Every day.

Every single day.

D-Class were constantly berating me, calling me names like "nerd", "dork", and, my favorite, "virgin".
The SCPs only cared about killing me. Chaos Insurgency never spared me a chance. Even the Nine-Tailed Fox or fellow scientists were sometimes absolutely sour to me.
I couldn't take it anymore. I never even escaped once. I had it all planned out in my head. My escape. The magnificent plan.
You might be reading this, thinking "what is this sick science kid gonna do to all of these people?". I have it all laid out, every excruciating detail that I'm willing to admit. I don't have one bit of guilt or regret for carrying it out.


I spawned in, like usual. A quiet scientist. I got lucky, and was placed right next to 914. I upgraded my card to an O5, the holy grail of all cards. The one D boys would kill for. The one that scientists prized.
The one that could unlock the armory.
To my advantage, the armory was also right by 914, and no D-Class had been to the part of the LCZ that I was carrying out the plan with. I grabbed the guns and grenades, and ran back to 914. I upgraded the pistol to a MicroHID, and waited for the D-Class to come.
Of course they did.
None of the scientists came to 914 (I later found out that they had escaped with a zone manager card), and the only sounds I heard were of a rowdy group of D-Class, and a scraping statue. Of course they'd be friends. One politely asked, "Hey, we're D boys. Open the door please". It was all according to plan.
While 173 hid behind a door, thinking I didn't hear him, the group in the orange jumpsuits yelled at me to upgrade the card. One fool was turning the knob wildly, and a small few snuck into the export. I said, "one moment, please", and went into the corner. I pulled out my MP7 and surveyed the scene.

Their smug, keycard-less faces turned from cheer to terror as they saw me holding the gun in my hands.

I mowed down four unlucky ones that were standing outside of the machine, who were screaming and jumping around like maniacs. I collected the loot from the corpses, and coldy replied, "who's next?". I walked over to the corner, where two D-Class were huddled in the corner, one crying, the other begging not to shoot.

I couldn't help myself from gunning them in cold blooded murder.

After the bodies resided, and bullets were collected, I made my way to the input, where one orange jumpsuit was standing. He didn't resist; he knew it was too late.
The final stretch was walking over to the output, where about 5 D boys huddled quietly, some whispering to stay quiet. I walked over slowly, and when I came through the door, panic erupted.

I started firing at them, getting a count of two while the others pushed past me in a desperate, pathetic attempt to survive. I followed them, one trying to turn the machine on to get another 15 seconds of life. I took the glimmering hope of survival straight from between the whites of his eyes. One was clawing at the door, talking to peanut and jamming the button, while another shivered in the corner. I gunned down both of them.

Blood was spilled everywhere in the room.

Now that the true targets were completed, I still had one final task: to end Chicken Nugget.

Peanut waited at the door, presumably wailing over his fallen brothers. He rushed in when he saw me. His anger overtook his smarts, and he ran to the corner where I was standing.
Looking him straight in the eyes, I ran past, and locked the door on him.
Walking out the facility, I had no competition: neither the SCPs, who were preoccupied, nor Chaos, who didn't spawn.
The MTF escorted me out, asking what had happened back there.
I didn't respond, and ran through Gate B.

I leave this manifesto behind at the gates to escape, hoping that a D-Class reads this and knows what happened to him down in the depths of hell on Earth: 914's containment chamber.
I hope he suffers even more than death by reliving the whole experience again.
I truly hope they do.