The Highway Patrol vehicle drove down the highway, its lone occupant dressed in attire one would not expect to see of a highway patrolman.
Instead of the typical tan uniform, and possibly a campaign hat, this person was dressed in full combat gear, wearing a ballistic helmet, his face obscured by a mask, and advanced goggles that could automatically dim and undim as required. On top of the helmet was a camera, which fed a livestream to his superiors far away.
On his chest was a steel plate carrier, clipped to it was a M4A1 carbine, along with several magazines for both the carbine and a M9 pistol.
His vest and clothing were not the typical black you would expect to see of a special operations soldier, which this man clearly was. His clothing was as bright and noticeable as it could possibly get. The vest was a solid white in color, with several reflective strips adorning it, along with his uniform, which was a blaze orange in color.
While such a uniform was not good for stealth, it was good for being found, in case you needed to be rescued, or so rescuers could more easily find your deceased corpse.
On the center of his vest was a patch. This patch did not say 'SWAT' or 'POLICE.' Instead, it said
'SCP,' and behind those words were the insignia of this organization, a circle with 3 prongs sticking out of it on opposite angles, and inside that was another circle, with 3 arrows pointing inward.
This man was not a highway patrolman, or even a police officer, no, he was a member of the SCP Foundation, dedicating to securing, containing, and protecting the many unknown and mysterious anomalies, creatures, and phenomena of the world.
And currently, he was driving down a closed off section of highway, on the hunt for creatures that had been terrorizing highways across New Mexico.
These creatures commonly hunted in pairs, mimicking the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, making the targetted driver panic, seeing what he thinks is a vehicle barrelling towards him. The driver would swerve, going off the road and crashing, where the creatures would attack the disoriented driver and passengers, killing and consuming them.
This soldier was hoping that would happen to him.
He looked down at the hood of the car, looking at the heavy bullbar on the front, knowing the front of it had spikes welded to the front, which would make short work of the creatures, which the foundation had designated SCP-745.
He had seen their corpses, even a living pair that had been captured, before they'd died in their containment cells anyway, but he'd never seen any out in the wild, and to be honest, he was hoping he wouldn't see any.
He'd seen photos of the destroyed cars, the remnants of the people occupying them, no more than shoes and bits of clothing.
He'd even seen the aftermath of guards who had gotten ambushed by them. There would be bullet casings on the ground, the helmet, kevlar vest, and other items the soldier had been wearing, along with a pool of blood where the soldier had died.
He was just one of many patrols along this massive area of New Mexico that had to be patrolled every night of every day. The patrols were spaced out at 15 mile intervals, he was 3rd in the line of the patrol that drove this highway, and there were 10 vehicles total, though half of them were manned by two soldiers, however his was not one of them.
They would do nothing but drive this long stretch of highway every single night, stopping and turning around when they reached a checkpoint set up by their superiors. They would do this for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, though they were always on standby in case they were needed.
Naturally doing the same thing for hours tended to get boring, so many of the patrols would listen to music, movies or audiobooks as they drove, though they were forbidden from playing anything very loud, in case they needed to radio in or if someone called them.
He yawned, silently thinking on all the months he still had to endure of this before he could transfer to a different post. Nightshift was never his forte, but as one of the new guys out of training, he did not have much of a choice in his post. And, more importantly, the only time you could hunt these SCPs was during the night, as they were only active at night, and the Foundation had yet to find where any of them hid during the day.
His thoughts were instantly torn away from this though. "Holy shit!"
His instincts took over, countless years of evolution overriding the demonstration he'd been shown, telling all patrols to drive forward as fast as you could if headlights suddenly appeared.
He hadn't floored it though. If they had appeared in the distance he knew he would have, but instead they'd appeared practically in front of him, so close that he would not have been able to stop the vehicle in time, which had been going 90 miles an hour.
He swerved, instantly realizing he'd made the wrong decision, but he had little time to dwell on it, the man more focused on trying to keep control of the vehicle.
A rock appeared in his headlights, the man had no time to swerve, his tire slamming right into it, launching the vehicle into the air.
"All units! All units! Unit 3 has contact, needs immediate assistance!" The computer operator looked at the screen, the incident playing back on multiple monitors manned by other operators.
Another operator spoke up. "I need medevac to unit 3s location now! Operative has crashed and is unconscious, vital signs are normal!"
The main operative, who had an overall view of all the units, watched the display, seeing units 1 and 2 turning around, rapidly speeding up to get back to unit 3s location. Units 4 through 10 had not had to turn around though, and he watched their speed readouts rapidly increase, unit 4 hitting over 180 miles an hour.
"Cameras on vehicle are inoperable, camera feed on unit 3 is still running though, we've got two 745 instances closing on him!"
Outside the vehicle, the soldier's headcam showed the two SCPs approaching, a single headlight illuminating their figures. They were lithe, with thin chests and stomachs, their thin upper figures a stark contrast with their legs and hips, which were packed with muscle, allowing them to reach speeds up to 110 miles an hour.
They walked on all fours, the tips of their toes covered in claws, their back legs bending at awkward angles as they walked closer to the car, one of them turning, allowing the camera operator to see the long, winding tail behind it.
The most interesting thing about it though, was its head, which glowed exactly like the headlight of a car would. The creatures were capable of changing how bright their heads were, video footage from past encounters showing that they could dim it down to nothing, or make it as bright as the headlights of a car.
Below its head was a wide mouth packed full of sharp teeth, the creature's tongue dragging over the front ones as it tilted its head down, peering into the cracked windshield.
Unit 3 was running out of time. the operator looked back to the main readout, seeing that the other operatives were now hitting speeds of over 250 miles an hour, trying to get to unit 3's position as fast as they could.
While their vehicles had been made to look like regular highway patrol cars, they were anything but that. They were supplied with the best equipment available, every vehicle sporting insanely powerful engines, run flat tires, bullet resistant armor and glass, along with the best flashlights the Foundation could field.
