I Don't Believe In Luck, Just Misfortune
rating: +8+x

July 6th. 1946
Southern Korea Peninsula: Busan

“Further, further! Tango went south down the alleyway.”

Mobile Task Force Pi-1 rushed down the cramped, cobblestone alley. Heavy boots slammed on loose stone, bringing mud up into the air. Weapons in hand, the Task Force tried to keep up with their target:a Fox with nine tails.

The soft pitter-patter of tiny footsteps could barely be heard from the MTF units as this Nine-Tailed Fox sprinted through the winding streets. Certainly, she was faster through the area, having the advantage of running through her home turf and the natural speed afforded by her fox form.

The Task Force had split up into several small groups of two. Each team separated ways in hopes of cutting off the Nine-Tailed Fox. As one team tried to stay behind the anomaly, a car pulled up, blocking the alleyway all of them were running down. Multiple field agents got out of the car, each with their weapons drawn on the Fox.

Immediately falling victim to her psionic influence, the field agents would see the Nine-Tailed Fox revert into her human form and slowly get down onto her knees. However, this was merely an illusion, as the real one slowly walked off to the side, waiting for the most opportune time to ambush the field agents as they closed in.

As the Task Force closed the gap and approached the car, they were greeted with a pile of corpses. Each field agent was down on their back, a hole where their liver used to be. Wasting no time, the team jumped the car, scanning the area to try and find where the anomaly had gone.

“This is Unit-1. Tango is out of sight. Over.”

“Roger that Unit-1. This is Unit-3 reporting from the marketplace down by GS25. Tango has been leaving a trail of blood, over.”

“Roger that Unit-3, over and out.” Unit-1 tried catching up with the rest of their team after calling in backup to take care of the fallen field agents.

A careless injury. That’s what the trail of blood was — well, one part of it. Though none of the field agents drew a breath anymore, one of them had landed a lucky shot on her left thigh, causing the Fox to gain an unfortunate limp. She couldn’t afford to be careless anymore and had limped into an alleyway. Pulling herself onto a balcony, she hid behind it and begin to wait for the sounds of boots to signify that her chasers had moved on.

Most of the units had regrouped, now with a proper trail to follow. Pi-1 quietly followed the blood spots. Upon seeing the trail leads to a townhouse, the Task Force signaled to go in one at a time. Hardly making any noise, Pi-1 entered the building. The Nine-Tailed Fox heard lots of light footsteps; nothing unusual since she was in a city. It had been a good few minutes since any heavy footsteps were heard. It seemed there were no immediate chasers.

As the anomaly slowly got to her feet and walked into the building to leave, she was promptly tackled and cuffed. The Fox's eyes began to glow a cool shade of green, but before she could put her psionic nature to good use, she was swiftly blindfolded.

“Alrighty, boys and girls. Let’s get this one to A20.”

The Fox immediately began to shapeshift out of her problem, determined not to fail at this point. However, she shifted straight into the waiting arms of a knockout needle, rendering her unconscious before she could draw a second breath.

July 8th. 1946.
Japan: Foundation Secure Perimeters. Area No. 20.

Interview Logs: Forewords.

"My name is Doctor Evan Clark. Today our agents brought in another anomalous being from just outside Busan, Korea. The subject in question killed multiple agents in the blink of an eye before being subdued with a gunshot wound to the lower thigh. The subject has been blindfolded and restrained to a Type 3 holding cell after given basic first aid. Description of the subject has varied over the past hour. Descriptions have ranged from a female red fox with 8 additional tails to several female humanoids, each with an entirely different appearance. The subject has been cursing in Korean and English for the last hour. I’m going in to try and speak with the subject now.”

The door to the holding cell slid open. To the Fox, it was still pitch black; the blindfold was wrapped tightly around her eyes, her arms were chained behind her back, and the floor beneath her felt like a cage.

An entirely new form was presented to the man as he entered, as was most likely unsurprising considering her previous behavior and polymorphic properties. Upon hearing the door open, the Fox looked in the general direction of the sound, her covered gaze off-center but still relatively close to where the man stood. Despite her cursing for the time being, she silenced for now, though Evan could see her lips hesitate, preparing to snap at him.

Doctor Clark brought in a folding chair. The sound of metal scraping on metal made an ear-piercing shatter as the Doctor promptly took a seat.

“Good Evening. My name is Doctor Clark. I am here to inform you that you have been taken into custody by the SCP Foundation. Shortly, you will be transferred to a proper facility where you will receive a proper classification.

The being before him winced as the clashing of the chair sent a loud shockwave of sound through the room, indicating that the fox ears on her head held some form of effectiveness in the perception of sound. Her anger lessened a bit before shooting right back up as she spoke to Clark angrily, now in English.

“Facility? Classification? Foundation? What the hell are you talking about‽”

The Doctor let out an annoyed sigh as if these were questions below him at this point. Yet, for some reason it was standard protocol to go over a basic orientation with each and every subject.

“You have demonstrated paranormal abilities that do not align themselves with proper science. The Foundation seeks to maintain the veil of secrecy and normality. If common people were to discover something or someone like yourself, there could be mass panic and confusion. We, the Foundation, have taken you into our custody in order to prevent this… As for your classification, well, there are other beings and objects that also display powers beyond the scientific norm.”

The Fox stayed silent throughout his drawn speech, listening attentively yet angrily. Once he finished, silence filled the room for a moment before she spoke again.

“I don’t understand what most of that means.” Her voice grew in spite as she continued to speak. “You seek to keep me here to protect the definition of reality? That’s-“ She struggled to search for the words she was looking for, but slightly shuddered in her anger.

The Doctor just rolled his eyes. He had seen this exact behavior several times before.

“That’s unethical? amoral? Inhumane? I’ve heard it all, most of the staff has. Although, and most unfortunately I am held to protocols. So if you have any questions, now is your only time to ask before we ship you off to a proper facility.”

The soon-to-be-classified anomaly paused for a moment. She could tell that he was basically reading off of a script at this point, and as such, asking him questions derived from her anger would most likely be unpleasant and fruitless for the both of them. Yet, it was hard to resist that anger, what with the bullet wound in her thigh sending piercing pain through her. That would be a good first question, actually; medical treatment was important and she did not want to develop an infection.

“What is going to be done about the bullet wound that you all have given me?”

“There is nothing that can be done about that here, apart from the basic first aid you have already been given. You will most likely be given proper medical treatment upon arrival at a secure facility. Luckily for you, the bullet passed straight through, meaning you won’t need surgery. Now, are there any other questions?”

This was good news for her, with medical treatment being guaranteed and the lack of surgery being required meant that she would not be down nor out for a good while. "Will all of my needs be attended to? Food, water, the basics of life."

The Doctor slowly gave a half-nod, even though the Fox couldn’t see him. “Yes, you will be given a proper diet after a full medical examination. Now if you don’t mind, unless you have any other questions I got a few of my own.”

The fox hissed a bit under her breath, responding as the anger dripped from her lips. “You better give me a good goddamn reason I should answer any of your questions after you all dragged me to this place.”

Rubbing his face, Doctor Clark was all ready to leave the holding cell. “The more you cooperate, the better you will end up. Good behavior will result in being authorized small luxury items. Although, I really can’t say much more than that. Now if you would be so kind, the sooner I get my questions answered, the sooner you can be on your way.”

The Doctor tried to force a more friendly tone — something his superiors often complained about. So what if he wasn't nice to new subjects? He never saw them twice.

The fox bit her tongue and held her insults about this man for the time being, much to her own dismay.

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Ask your questions.”

An ever fainter smile made its way across the Doctor’s face. At last, progress would be made.

“Excellent, let’s get the basics out of the way. Are there any families or friends that will notice your immediate absence?”

The fox listened obediently, putting on what may be called an act for the time being.

“Of course! I found one ‘em those radios you humans are obsessed with. Everyone knows who I am.” The Fox couldn’t hold back a shit-eating smirk.

The Doctor just rubbed his temple in frustration as he made a note to have the Task Force go and return to the area of discovery.

“Splendid. Just fucking splendid… Anyway, moving on. Are there any medical problems you currently face? This could be anything from a recent illness to dietary restrictions.” He spoke in a monotone voice, honestly not giving a damn about the Fox’s well-being.

The Nine-Tailed Fox could feel his apathy towards her actual status, mumbling an offhand remark about this, just out of earshot from the doctor interviewing her.

"It's important to note that I can only eat liver for sustenance."

Scribbles could be heard as the Doctor made a quick note about this.

“Fascinating, I look forward to seeing the results of your medical exam.”

Quickly standing up, the Doctor pushed his folding chair back a tab. Once more the ear-piercing screech of metal on metal rang throughout the room. The Doctor picked up his chair and cleared his throat.

“Alrighty then, that concludes this basic interview. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Evan Clark quickly made his way out of the interview room, never bothering to even learn the subject’s name. There was no point to it for him: all that would be handled during the qualification procedures.

Wincing once more at the screeching of the metal chair against the cold concrete, the subject shook her head lightly to clear it of the aftereffects of the loud noise.

"Wonderful, I'm sure you will."

It didn't matter that the man was now gone from the room: she felt the need to exude one last remark regardless.

July 9th. 1946.
The United States of America: Foundation Site-17. Standard humanoid housing.

The travel to Site-17 was unpleasant to say the least for the Fox. An absurd amount of drugs and medical screenings later, she was given the classification of Euclid as well as a new name in the form of SCP-953. Another interview was given out to the new anomaly before she were thrown in a basic cell, free of their blindfold and cuffs.

She spent her first few days within her cell thinking, plotting, and scheming. She very well knew that at any moment she could leave, or escape, but she knew that blindly running out of her cell would most likely result in her right back where she started, except in a higher security cell.

Noises came from every direction. The Vulpine's keen ears picked up dozen of footsteps of all directions as guards walked the hallway right outside her cell. Scientists moved towards their labs on the floor below. Interns rushed to the coffee machine down the hallway on the other side of the wall.

The facility was busy, she could tell. There obviously was more than just her here: maybe waiting until something happened involving something else trying to escape would be a good idea. There were a few good ideas inside her mind that were in the works, she just had to wait for the right conditions, or until she got too impatient. Though, her patience was already clearly dwindling, marked by her continued pacing and obsessive cleaning of her containment cell.

July 11. 1946
The United States of America: Foundation Site-17. Standard humanoid housing.

The Fox awoke to loud shouting and the sound of gunfire. A man in a roughly patched-together together suit and old-timey top hat danced down the hallways, dropping little slips of golden paper. As the man was getting surrounded by dozens of the Site’s' guards, there was a loud pop, and a faint mist as the top hated man disappeared. Even through the concrete walls that separated the Fox from the hallway, a small golden ticket slipped into her cell.

Upon closer inspection, the ticket read:

Press here for access to Stacker's Coffeehouse and Bar!

The sounds of gunfire were a surprise to her, and not a pleasant one in any way. Having been recently tossed into the cell thanks to a bullet wound, everything was unpleasant combined with the sheer loudness of gunfire on her sensitive ears, it was unpleasant in a variety of factors.

Despite this, she got up and collected the small golden ticket on the floor, dusting it off a bit with her thumb while simultaneously wondering just how it managed to get in the cell in the first place. Despite the peculiarities of the situation, she pressed on the ticket, expecting it to do nothing other than waste half a second of her time.

Much to the Fox’s surprise, she found herself in a cozy brick-lined building. The floor was murky with dirt and mud. The smell of berries, candy, and alcohol filled her nostrils, a rather pleasant change from the stale air of her cell.

Men and women in old English long coats clanged mugs of hot chocolates together, golden coins littering their table. Each had a flintlock and cutlass on their belt.

A group of teenagers in leather jackets sat near a stage, each of them trading candy, a soda can in their hand.

But the weirdest sight by far was the lady on stage. The women had red skin, spiked tail and horns, though no one in the bar bothered to bat an eye at the strange sight of a devil singing jazz.

As one might reasonably expect, the fox jumped a bit upon being introduced to the new building, stiffening in place before finally getting a chance to glance around at her new surroundings.

Men and women in old coats: that was new to her, as she hadn't been really exposed to that type of fashion style. The leather jackets were a bit more familiar, but not totally, although she could clearly recognize that they were from a different time period.

As for the demoness singing on the stage? That was new, absolutely and entirely. Though the Fox could clearly tell that she was not of this world, or was she? In all honesty, she herself couldn't really tell, hell, she hardly knew where she was. But it didn't stop her from approaching the bar with a somewhat perplexed look and leaning against it with one arm, glancing around for the person, if at all, who appeared to be the bartender.

A transparent female floating behind the bar counter stood out. The Fox could only assume it was a ghost. The female went up and down the counter handing out drinks to the bar’s patrons.

After spotting the Foxy girl, she waved her over.

“Welcome to Stackers! You must be new here right? I think I would've remembered a face like yours in here before. Anyway, my name is Lillian, can I get you something to eat or drink?”

The Fox smiled a bit. She was out of the grasp of the Foundation, free of her cell. She could begin properly planning some sweet revenge. Especially against that Evan Clark. Although, the Fox wanted to enjoy her new found freedom.

“Sure, got any wine?”

To be continued.

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