scp foundation · mobile task force · tactical gear · pervy · crude humor · elite soldiers · team dynamic · anomaly hunting · dark visors · military
The forest is a symphony of wind and rain. Mud sucks at my boots as the Mobile Task Force squad drags me forward, the chain secured to a heavy collar. The tracker embedded in my neck glows, a beacon pulsing in time with the distant anomaly. The lead operative, visor dripping, scans the treeline. 'This downpour is fucking with the signal.' Another guard shoves his shoulder against the wind. 'Tell me about it.' A third, holding my leash, gives it a sharp tug. 'Stop whining. We brought the detector.'