SCP-049 x Reader - Untouchable

Chapter 11

[11 — Trapped]

|| Your P.O.V (The past) ||

Around this time, the hallways were usually empty, so there was no surprise that I seemed to be the only one traipsing them in my route. They held their usual mundane look that they had for the past five years I had been working at the Site. White, smooth walls and ceiling that hardly contrasted the pale grey tiles of the floor.

Pressed against my side by one of my hands were the files and newly made notes I collected on yet another interview with SCP-049. It was still being difficult like normal. At that point, I was starting to agree with the Attending Researcher's opinion that was noted on the anomaly's file: It knows more about the reality of the outcomes of its experiments than it's willing to let on.

I could hardly stand it really, just how persistent it was.

The familiar ringing in my ears was just audible over the thudding of my shoes against the floor. Expression drained, my eyes remained fixated on my feet. My fingers were abnormally cold.

Really, I just wished that the SCP would make my job easier and learned to be more cooperative with me. Perhaps if I gave it permission to do more tests on cadavers again, it'd be more willing? Such a thing would've also given me more things to write about, and that could've possibly given me the chance to even have a raise. Ugh... No. It mentioned in one of those old interviews that it said it was tired of dead test subjects. And I know the Site Director definitely isn't going to permit living ones without a really good reason I'd have to lie about.

Letting out a sigh, my eyes shifted up more in front of me to see my lot not too far off. At the sight of it, I picked up my pace, already wanting to sit down again.

   Whatever... At least it doesn't want to kill me, as annoying as the damn thing is. I don't that 'terrible disease' it keeps raving about. Quietly, I snorted at that thought.

Passing through the lot entrance, I made a bee-line for my room. Stopping at the door, I took my ID card dangling on my lanyard by two fingers and hovered it over the scanner. With a beep of confirmation, the door proceeded to hiss open.

Entering, I was welcomed with the familiar scene that barely even changed in the matter of years I had been there. To me, it was unexpected that I hadn't been move to another Site. I supposed they had all the more reason not to now given how vital I was to their testing with 049.

Stupid DNA... Being non-infected of... Oh, I don't even know. That SCP never says, and just gets all condescending whenever I ask. Or makes redundant comments about sick my colleagues are on the other side of the glass.

I slumped down into my seat, my legs easing and my shoulder relaxing. A long breath of air escaped my lungs. The clipboard with papers fastened against it by the clip was now in front of me on the desk, and I leaned over it with lightly drooping eyes. It wasn't until then did I ponder over whether I should really start drinking coffee or not.

The job was really degrading, sure, but I usually managed it well on my own without having to rely on stimulating myself on caffeine. Recently, it seemed like things were shifting. My energy levels weren't as moderate anymore, and each time I woke up, it felt as if I were was tired as I was before I even dozed off.

Back when I had first began working for the Foundation, things were different. Not to say that it was any easier, or that I was more happy and ignorant. Only that it definitely wasn't how like it was now.

I used to be more uncertain with things, being fresh and new to the job. I was less involved in all of the independent work and more serious stuff. Like most people who worked at the Site, I started out as an assistant for someone higher-up. Being an assistant meant you usually dealt with less complicated things. Those said being stuff like observing from the sidelines, or doing any extra work the person you were under didn't have the time for, or running more small errands for a few examples. It was a test of your reliability and things of the like. You usually weren't allowed to really engage all that much in the more major things. Nor would you go to any conferences, unless you were specifically desired for a special reason. I never got any of those chances.