The Class-D is the powerhouse of the cell

FDC Miami, Florida 11:34 a.m. 

Inside the prison holds many criminals. Most are petty crimes, but the truly serious ones are currently locked up in their cells. One of these inmates is currently relaxing on his bed. He has a white uniform, which means he's on death row. Two men approach his cell. One security guard and the other is a blonde man wearing a black suit carrying a brown handbag.

"Rise and shine, Jordan! You got a visitor." Jordan sits straight. His dark brown hair is braided and hangs below, covering his eyes. Despite that, he can clearly see the stranger.

"Who are you?" He sternly asks. The man analyzes him with his cold blue eyes.

"James Parker. A pleasure to meet you." He extends his hand. Jordan stands and cautiously shakes his hand. "I'm here to ask you a few questions if you don't mind? That means you should be excused." He directs it to the guard.

"Pfft. Y'all think you're so superior." He leaves.

"Are you part of the CIA or something?" Jordan doesn't understand what's going on.

"I'm just a curious man, that's all." He pulls out a folder from the handbag and opens it. "It says here you're being charged for first-degree murder. Can you tell me the events that led up to the incident?"

"I already told the cops and my lawyer everything. Go talk to them if you want to know."

"Trust me. I already did. I only want to hear it from the horse's mouth, as they say." Jordan looks away and takes a deep breath.

One week ago

It was morning in the Johnson residence. Jordan was making breakfast for his dad. A sunny side with two strips of bacon and toast. His father, Alexander Lopez, was locked up in his room for days. This worried Jordan as he has never seen him go out to eat or drink. He grabbed the utensils and noticed one of the kitchen knives was missing. Shrugging off as him or his mom misplacing it, he headed towards the study, where his father resided. He knocked on the door. 

"Hey dad, I made you breakfast." No reply. He grabbed the handle. To his surprise, it was unlocked. He slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Papers and documents were scattered on the desk and floor. The walls seemed to have been scratched by nails. There were words saying 'Hello', 'SCP', 'I'm sorry' and 'This thing is a Quiet Madness made' all over the walls. Unnerved by the scene, he laid the tray on the floor and slowly walked around the room. He checked the papers on the desk. It's mostly redacted. Only the title is readable. "SCP-3935?"

Suddenly, the door closed shut. Jordan turned around to find his father locking the door with a knife in hand. His hazel eyes were filled with fear and his body was shaking uncontrollably.

"Dad. What's going on?" He was afraid. Thinking of the worst possible scenarios. Alex mumbled something unintelligible. "It's okay, dad. J-Just drop the knife."

"T-T-They're b-back. The cheerleaders." He said. Then jerked his head to the side. "Hello!?"

"Please drop the knife and we can get you help." Jordan cautiously walked towards his father.

"No. I remember everything. They told 

me I would forget, but they lied!" He starts sobbing. "It's all my fault. I should've been there with her. Then maybe none of this would have happened." Jordan disarms the weapon.

"It's going to be all right. I'm here." He hugs him. 

"Behind you, Jordan!" He shouted. Everything happened too fast. All he remembered was a white blur and screams before passing out. When Jordan woke up, his father was on top of him.

"Dad?" He felt a warm liquid on his hand. It was the knife plunged deep in his father's chest. "D-Dad? Daaaad!" The police bust in.

"Put your hands up!" They commanded him. Jordan was in shock to process the events that occurred. 

Back in the present 

"And that's what happened." He finishes explaining his story.

"I see. And prior to this event, you had no knowledge of your father's occupation?" 

"All I knew is that he was a biologist. I don't know what the hell was in the documents or what got him to act that way." Tears fall down his cheeks. 

"Hmm. I believe you." Jordan is shocked.

"You do? People thought I was crazy when I told them about it."

"I'm a colleague of Alexander. He always told me how proud he was to have a son like you. Which is why I came down here to investigate." He puts the files away. "Listen to me, the laws here have deemed you a murderer when something outside the boundaries of humanity caused this. It's not much, but if you want to regain your freedom, you can join the Foundation as a Class-D personnel."

"Foundation? Class-D?"

"I know you're in an unstable mental state right now, but I hate to see an innocent man behind bars. This is all I can do within my position. I'll register you and relocate to Site-19 tomorrow. Please sign this form for me." He hands him a paper and pen. Without many options, he signs the document. "Thank you. Let's hope it gets approved. Be seeing you, sport." He grabs the paper. "Oh. Before I go, heed my advice. Try to keep your eyes open if you want to keep that neck of yours." He smiles and finally leaves.

"...What the fuck does he mean by that?"

The Next Cell

Jordan wakes up to the sound of soldiers approaching down the hall. They are armed with gray and black military uniforms. Their logo has a weird circle with three arrows pointing inside that he mildly recognizes. They open his cell.

"Come." The woman commands. He nervously accepts. As they escort him out, he notices other inmates coming along. Once outside, they are put in a prisoner transport vehicle and drive off while having two vehicles from the front and back. There's a television at the front of the bus. It's showing a video about how great it is to be a Class-D personnel. He catches the very unpleasant undertone from the footage.

"What fucking bullshit is this?" The brunette inmate next to him says. "Sounds like we're going to another prison, am I right?" He looks at Jordan.

"Y-Yea. Crazy."

"Fuck man. Might as well kill us on the spot, why don't they." He chuckles. "Names Robertson. You can call me Rob. Also Robby, Roberto, or Robster if you're into the whole brevity thing. What's yours?"

"It's Jordan."

"Yooo! Nice to meet you, Jojo! Hope you don't mind me calling you that. I've never had a friend to fill in my weebness." Jordan is weirded out by his friendly demeanor.

"Friend?"

"Yes man! We're gonna be stuck together for a while. So I might as well get comfortable with a bus buddy. So what are you in for?"

"I don't want to talk about that." 

"Smart. I respect that. I only ask cause you don't seem the type of nigga that would harm a fly!" He burst out laughing.

"Back at ya."

"Hah! Aren't we all? Except for that fucker in the front. He molested his kids before one of them spilled the beans to their mom. Then proceeded to murder his family. Fucked up shit. I'm surprised he's still alive." Jordan listens to his rambles the whole way.

Site-19

Upon arriving, they extract his blood, take pictures, hand him an orange uniform and a piece of paper. The guards escort him into his chamber and close the sliding metallic door.

His room is about the same size and style of a cell. A bed, toilet, sink and even a small table. The walls are pure white, with the only light source being the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 

"So much for a change of scenery." Jordan grumbles as he sits on the bed. He examines the clothes on him. It looks like a stereotypical prisoner's uniform. The front and back has 'D-9834' imprinted. He reads the paper. 

It has the procedures, warnings and what he will be addressed as from now on. What he is more focused on is the passage that states if he is fully cooperative, then he will earn freedom by the end of the month.

"So all I have to do is survive a month. Doesn't sound too bad. Then maybe I can finally find out what happened to him." He thinks back on the events. Then it clicks. "Hold on. SCP? That was what the document was called. And that guy was his colleague. Did he used to work here? Why didn't he tell me?" The more he processes, the more confusing it is. Hours pass when the door opens.

"Slowly come to the door." The guard commands. Jordan follows the door. There's another guard. "We're taking you for the orientation. We are authorized to shoot. So try not to do anything stupid." Jordan nervously nods. 

They walk through hallways of four corridors. The building is too complex for Jordan to memorize.

"Um, excuse me? When am I allowed to contact my mom?" He asks. It falls on deaf ears. They arrive at their destination. It's a big room with rows of tables filled with inmates in the same uniform. There's a projector hanging from the ceiling. A desk and a white board is in front. He is seated in one and they handcuff his right arm on the table.

"Hey guys. Try to be more gentle. We still have rights." The person next to him says to the guards. It's Robert. "Well I'll be a stupid motherfucker! If this doesn't prove we were destined to be friends, then God himself will shoot me right now." He chuckles.

"Quiet. The class is about to start." The guard says before walking.

"Pssst." Rob captures Jordan's attention to look under his right sleeve. It's a handmade lockpick. He winks at Jordan. 

"You're going to get yourself killed." He whispers.

"Don't worry. It's only for emergencies." Rob responds. An inmate breaks free and tries to escape. He is immediately showered in bullets, killing him instantly. The room is deathly silent. The guards quickly dispose of the body. Jordan is getting nausea, while Robert is in complete shock.

"Only one? That's a new record." The researcher says as he steps inside. It's James. He's wearing a white coat and glasses. "You all don't know this, but it's still morning. Good morning." He sits on the desk. "Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why am I in another prison? Fear not. This is a research facility. We conduct experiments to further understand how to contain objects. What we do is extremely serious and for the betterment of mankind." He turns on the projector. It shows the symbol of the Foundation. "All of you have been selected for the purpose to aid us in this research. First off, raise your hands if you believe in the supernatural?" Most people raise their hands. Jordan and a small minority keep theirs down. "I see. D-9834, explain your belief."

"Um...I don't believe that ghosts exist or anything. It's just that we currently lack the technology or science to understand it."

"I respect that view and it is actually correct. There's always a scientific explanation to every phenomenon. No matter how alien or ridiculous it can be." He presses the button to go to the next page, showing monstrous creatures. "These monsters are one hundred percent real. That is the secret the Foundation hides from humanity. Which is why it is important you all cooperate. Not just for the cause, but for everyone's safety. Follow every single order to the letter and in one month, you'll be free. Although, the jobs can be extremely dangerous even in the best conditions. I can't guarantee you'll be alive, so try your best to prevent that. Also, read every file given and imprint it to your mind. It might save lives. Remember, knowledge isn't what breeds chaos, it's confident ignorance."