Per 
For SCP-096's OC
Written by Myzlplik for no particular reason
Class-D Personnel File
Designation: D-9905
Identity (before applied use of amnestics): Jack Ericsson
Facility Designation: Site-11
Crimes: Theft, destruction of property, assault, blackmail, handling of stolen goods
Physical Characteristics: Height; 175 cm, Weight; 70 kg. Commonly found wearing a beanie and boots. Has a scar on his left cheek and short brown hair.
Psychological Characteristics: A very light-hearted personality, attempts to be humorous, and avoids conflict. Can be found alone in his cell and is described as both a "side character" and the "life of the party." Currently undergoing further psychological evaluation by Doctor Palm due to evidence suggesting Disassosciattive Identity Disorder.
They call me the best. Anything you need within the Western Hemisphere I can get. Gum, shoes, diamonds, ammunition, places for the bodies, anything. They call me the "Blue Shadow," able to get in and get out clean. Rack an easy $100k each time.
I knew something was off when I got the job. A team. I hate teams. But a deal is a deal and in the criminal world, deals can get your head blown off. The plan was airtight, checked by the legendary Marquie himself. Yet we still failed.
The target: The Red Jacket. The location: The Mitz. They employed what could've been a thousand guards to protect a tiny 20-carat ruby as red as blood. The guards don't matter; the security system didn't matter; we had our way in.
The vent systems were thought to be too small for any human, but Kai found his way through. The laser fields were thought to be impossible to cross, but Quinn danced past them. The ruby was thought to be safe, but I got it. Kai took out the security guards, Quinn the lasers, I would rappel to the ruby while Rick covers me. Can't make a sound, can't touch the floor. Mission Impossible. The mission was possible. I was right next to the ruby, the glass was easy to cut, and I had the ruby in my hands. Until I didn't. The chances, the god damn mother flipping chances, of a disgusting little filthy rat falling through the hole that I came down in, that's all it took.
Alarms screamed from here to China. Guards swarmed the room faster like bees defending their hive. Weapons locked and loaded We knew it was over. The cops arrived just minutes later and I was taken away, separated from my team.
And that's what led me here. This shithole that nobody seems to know anything about. What is practically an entire functional society in this mysterious location, and nobody knows nothing. They don't even need us here. All we do is scrub and scrub and scrub. Escape attempts? Every person in an orange jumpsuit who even thought about leaving was killed, disappear, or forgot who they are completely. Mysterious objects, beings, and stuff that shouldn't exist are rumored to exist right here, but the hell if I know.
New people come in each month, followed by rigorous interviews and tasks. They keep the worst of the worst here, almost like this place is a super-supermax prison. I haven't seen the light of day in months or even years. We know nothing of the outside world, we know nothing about the facility we live in. The guards watch me closely after my last escape attempt. Everyone says I'm lucky I even survived. Nobody returns from the corridors that surround us. We all await our slow and painful deaths.
They used to call me the best. Now they don't call me anything.
