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Wilson stared at the door in front of him, slowly reading the faded text on the door, over and over again.

"SCP-055".

He wondered how his life had gotten to this, being a lab rat for a group of bureaucratic zoo-keepers. A few months ago he was just a policeman in downstate Nebraska. He had what some might call "The American Dream", a wife, two kids and a dog. Then it happened.

It was a warm night in June, he was doing his night shift patrol, just another twenty minutes and he'd be home. He took a shortcut down Ripley avenue and saw a group of teenagers, knocking over trashcans and hitting them with a baseball bat. He sighed in annoyance and parked the car. He climbed out.

"All right, I don't want to make this any longer than it needs to be, so you kids run off and I won't take you back to the station," Wilson said. The kids laughed.

The tallest of the crew walked up to him. He was skinny, black hair, like a bully in one of those Japanese TV shows his wife always watched. The kid spoke, while pulling a blade from his pocket. "You think we're scared of you?"

Wilson looked at the boy with an unimpressed look on his face. He took out his gun, something Wilson would deeply regret later. Wilson turned off the safety and pointed it at the lad, who now had a started look in his eyes. "Threatening an officer I see. Now you and all your little friends are going down to the station. Good going pal,"

The boys bean to plead, "No, please! I'm sorry! Don't call my parents!" the others began to chatter in frustration. Wilson waved his gun around and they quickly stopped. "I'm gonna say this once and only once," Wilson quickly began to swivel his gun back in the direction of the boy. "Get in the c-".

Bang.

Court date. Guilty. Death-sentence.

The week before the injection, a man in a suit walked into his cell. He was given an offer, work for this organization for a month and be a free man. Who would refuse?

Day one: He's made to clean up blood and poop from the floor of a giant, metal room, with a really messed-up-looking statue in the corner. There were two other guys, staring at it. One sneezed, he heard a crack and there was a dead body on the floor.

Day two: Wilson is tied to a chair and injected with a vile of murky water. He feels a tingling in his sides and the flesh of his right arm fell off, revealing some kind of brass extension.

Day three: Today.

Wilson was pulled back into reality by the sound of crackling, coming from the speaker above the door.

"D-19.4412, you may enter,"

The door buzzed, then opened.Wilson looked at his right hand, a brownish-yellow clockwork mess. He clutched it into a fist, took a deep breath, and Wilson Tannahay entered the unknown, yet again.