Sock and Doc

Chapter 1

The lights had dimmed and the alarms were blaring. For the Doctors it was a disaster. For the D-class it was a rare and risky chance of, what they thought would be, escape. For 035 it was fellow scps having fun toying with the unlucky foundation staff, but sadly he would not be able to join in the fun until he had a host. To his relief he didn't have to wait long because the door that lead to the hall could be heard. Some poor D-class who had been able to grab a card with a high enough clearance had blindly stumbled in while trying to avoid whatever was out and roaming the halls.

He looked like a completely average guy, no notable features. For a moment the mask questioned what got the man locked up in here but that was unimportant. All that mattered now was getting him to put the mask on. The scientists didn't fully understand stand how he could convince others to put him on and he wasn't completely sure either. They knew he was a telepath but that was just about it. But as usual the mask had coaxed the man into wearing him and he had suffered the consequences. 035 took a deep breath and stretched. 'It's so nice to be able to move around again.' He picked up the dropped keycard and walked out the door.

"What to do, what to do," he hummed aloud to himself as he absently wandered the halls. Red lights flashed and the alarms continued to shriek, although, they weren't the only sounds that echoed through the corridors. The sound of scraping concrete, sobs, and the occasional gunshot filled the air and the mask decided to avoid them. He knew some scps well enough to be considered friends or at least acquaintances but he was not looking forward to being attacked on sight. It was one of the downsides of being a mask, the others would think that he was just a D-Class and wouldn't hesitate to damage his host.

Trying to escape would be a waste of time, he knew that well enough. After so many attempts at leaving the facility he figured he knew every way out and that guards were at every exit.

"Well there has to be some staff or D-Class left, I don't think I've seen a body yet." He scanned the walls and floor for any sign of 106 incase he pulled them into his pocket dimension which would explain the lack of bodies. But the only corrosive liquid in sight was the occasional drips from the mask. Admittedly it was a little difficult to tell due to the floor being caked with dried blood.

035 shook his head. "Nah, he doesn't usually leave this much blood. So where the hell is everyone?" He began listing every scp he knew trying to find out what happened to the foundation personnel. He became so lost in his thoughts that he was unaware just how far into the foundation he had wandered. 035 stopped when he noticed that the pool of blood he had stepped in was relatively fresh, the edges had begun to dry while the middle was still wet.

He quickened his pace, admittedly he was curious as to where it would lead. It seemed like a lost cause until the obnoxious orange of a D-Class uniform caught his eye. If it could've his smile would've grown as 035 crept towards the lost D-Class. The person turned around and the mask was taken aback by the mans appearance.

He was zombie like. Dull eyes, sickly skin, dried blood formed a line down his shirt over his stomach. The pattern of blood would suggest an exact and clean cut, not your average haphazard slashes. 035 knew this, he'd been alive long enough to be able to tell and he'd seen his fair share of surgeries. At the simple thought of a cut with such precision 035's mind wandered. To someone he'd travelled with once, a doctor in fact.

He was once again dragged into his thoughts and memories. It had been god knows how long since he'd thought of the man but his memories were so clear, as if they only happened yesterday. He followed the zombie around for a moment before he turned to follow another D-Class with the same patterns of blood on his shirt. 035 continued turning to follow someone else when ever he saw them for awhile. Each person had similar patterns of blood on this shirt and each stain seemed fresher than the last.

The halls where quieter here which made it all the more startling when a shout could be heard through out the halls. 035 headed towards the sounds, how could he not? Perhaps if he could find the source of the screaming he would also be able to find who or what was leaving all these zombies around. He saw a brief flash of black fabric round a corner and heard a body fall to the floor.

Once he had rounded the corner he just stood and stared at the figure covered by its black cloak. It was hunched over the now dead man, scalpel in hand. The figure turned its head and its face was covered by a familiar beaked mask. The only thing 035 could clearly see was its eyes. Golden and shining even under the shadows the mask and hood cast over them. They were familiar, he knew those eyes, he knew the figure. He was speechless.

Eventually he found his voice. "Doc?"