2 - Spaghetti - 2

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"Where the fuck am I..?" (y/n) questioned, looking left and right at the two split paths. It had been a couple of hours since they started their adventure, but not a single clue had popped up.

[Dr. Smith - Class C]

(y/n) read the name on the card key they picked up. 'Class C', they thought to themselves, gritting their teeth.

The SCP Foundation had personnel classifications, ranging from A to D. Most belonged in Class C, while some, like (y/n), were part of Class D - the rats used for experiments.

'Which is the worst part of everything,' (y/n) said inside their head. If they were at least Class C, they would be insured survival upon reaching Unit 5. Class D, however, was a different story.

"Fuck," (y/n) whispered, unable to keep in their anger. If they miraculously reached Unit 5, they could still be shot dead; then what was this all for?

'...I guess getting shot is better than having my flesh torn to shreds,' (y/n) consolidated, the thought being the only motivation to keep moving.

Taking small, quiet steps, (y/n) decided to stick with turning right. Lord knows what was down that dark path, but standing still wasn't going to do shit.

After what seemed like an eternity, (y/n) walked into a wider clearing with a giant metal gate and a sign up above that read "UNIT 3".

'Yes!' (y/n) exclaimed in their mind, jogging forward to place their card key. It wasn't Unit 5, but it was an advancement.

Be-beep!

The sensor sounded in response to the card key, followed by a robotic voice.

"Card denied. A 'Class B' card key is needed to enter. Please get clearance from a 'Class B' personnel."

'...Excuse me?' (y/n) almost blurted out, wide-eyed in shock. They looked down at the card they held. The 'Class C' carved into the surface seemed to mock them.

Gritting their teeth to contain the rumbling anger in their throat, (y/n) turned back around towards the hallway they came from. The only solution was to find a Class B card key.

Splat!

However, just when they turned around, (y/n) was met with a tall, white, lean figure, hunched over on an MTF member's corpse.

(y/n) froze - the thing plus the corpse weren't there before.

The white figure remained still and silent for a while. It just stared down at the corpse's face, before starting to hack away at it, grunting in between gruesome sounds. It kept going and going, making the corpse's face into spaghetti.

(y/n) covered their mouth with both hands, wobbling backward until they hit the metal gate. They felt their legs give up on them and slid down to the ground, trembling like branches in a tornado. What was happening right now? What were they witnessing?

The white monster continued dismembering the face until it was a lump of flesh. Perhaps satisfied with its work, it huffed before turning its head...

...and making eye contact with (y/n).

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