[D-9341] 0004

When John's eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the harsh light above him, he quickly realized he was cuffed to a table and in some kind of interrogation cell. He had a mind-shattering headache and a feeling of discomfort as the cuffs and shackles on his ankles were tighter than they should be. Discomfort racked his entire body from what was probably hours of sitting in the chair, completely unconscious, with the harsh light above beaming into his eyes.

John did not know how long he had sat in the cell for, but he figured it must have at least been a few hours, though in reality it was only one, and he was growing increasingly thirsty and hot due to the heat from the intense light above him. Eventually, however, someone finally entered the room.

A woman, one in a business suit with a folder and clipboard, as well as rather boxy glasses. She gave off the typical 'secretary' vibe, and John would not deny that his eyes weren't exactly focused on her face as she took her seat across from him. She briefly glanced at John as she opened the folder and began sliding several images and what looked to be a nearly empty paper with a small amount of information.

John looked at her questioningly.

For nearly an entire minute straight, the woman stared at John, looking him in the eyes unflinchingly before she finally spoke, pushing one of the papers forward, "Who are you?"

After a few moments of silence, she clarified, pointing at the paper with next to nothing written on it.

"This is everything we have on you. Officially, you didn't exist until our agents caught wind of you in Dallas. Who are you?" The woman demanded.

Annoyed, John responded with his own question, "Why should I even bother telling you people? I haven't even done anything wrong, and you people immediately threaten to kill me, imprison me, and are now interrogating me!"

"Calm down, D-9341. Failure to comply will result in the use of sedatives," The woman calmly responded, making John even angrier.

"Fuck you," John responded.

"That wasn't very nice," the woman replied, still stoic.

"What do you expect, bitch. You and your Foundation have done nothing to earn any sort of respect from me, especially with the behavior of your 'employees' and the hostility shown to me for being a 'D-Class.' I can recall over a dozen times I was threatened with 'Termination' or pain. You want any answers? Tough luck, bitch." John cursed and spat at the woman.

"I would comply, if I were you, D-9341. Failure to comply will result in your termination, and we will instead dissect you to see if we can discover how your anomalous trait works," She threatened, only proving John's point further.

"I'm done talking with you, bitch. If you and your bosses want any answers, I want to talk to someone else," John demanded.

Just when it looked like John had gotten on the woman's nerves and she was about to speak, she suddenly froze and reached out to her ear where there was a small visible earbud.

Frowning, the woman's eyes glared at John before she abruptly stood up and left the room, leaving behind what she had brought in.

A few minutes later, someone else entered the cell, this time being a man in what looked to be armor, a security guard. The only thing noticeably different about this man was that he wore more armor, but he did not wear a helmet.

"Who are you?" John asked somewhat defensively.

"Possibly the last person you speak to if you keep this up. The Foundation has no use for...uncoperative assets," the man spoke before introducing himself, "You may call me Jerry. I'm the SecDep Chief of this Site."

"SecDep? Asset?" John questioned cautiously.

"The Security Department," Jerry informed John as if it was apparent, before continuing, "As for being an asset, that's ultimately up to my bosses, your...anomolous trait, and how cooperative you are."

If John could cross his arms, he would; instead, he glared at Jerry.

"What exactly are you saying?" John asked, trying to get a more direct answer.

"If you can resist more than just 049's touch, the Foundation would like to hire you as a...Thaumial Agent. Your duties would be assisting the foundation in containing or diverting SCPs from the wider world, but before we can do such a thing, we first need to know who and what you are," Jerry informed John, as he set his hands on the files before him.

"And what's stopping you all from just offing me when I'm of no use to you? Or what if I am only immune to 049's touch?" John questioned.

Taking a few moments to think, Jerry spoke, "Even if it is shown that you are not immune to other SCPs, the Foundation would likely willingly hire you full-time to interact with 049 to prevent any future containment breaches regarding 049. The Foundation has had 049 contained for decades, but lately, he has become... impatient. However, since you have taken an apprenticeship with 049, measures have not needed to be taken to keep the Doctor calm and rational."

Jerry sighed before continuing, "Listen, you only have two options. You can either sign a contract and become an Agent for the Foundation, or we will have to contain or terminate you." 

"Both sound like terrible choices; I either am forced to be a slave to your foundation and a guinea pig, or die," John commented, Jerry noting the strange calm in the man's voice.

"That's your only option, I'm afraid," Jerry answered with a shake of his head.

"You have some shitty bosses," John flipped off the camera as Jerry struggled not to crack a smile at the man's antics.

"So, what's it going to be?" Jerry finally asked, "Will we be shaking hands, or would you rather take the other, much shorter path?"