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|| What were a couple of thousand disposable ones to save the billions of other ones? ||

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You had heard the phrase "the opposite of love is not hatred but indifference" many times but you still wondered what it meant to feel like love was hate. There was annoyance, there was dislike, there was disdain, but never really "hate" that you felt. It would be easy to hate the situations you had been placed into but there was never enough time to do so.

To hate something, you would have to learn how to love first. You would need to know how to love something so much you hated it, hate something so much you loved it. You were never good at those types of things but a part of you wondered if you really hated the Foundation or if it was actually just indifference.

You weren't sure you would ever learn.

X.x.X

Finally, you were out of the pocket dimension.

You imagined that if you were any slower this time around, you may have been unable to walk with your injured ankle at all. That didn't mean you got out in any state that was suitable for surviving the rest of the breach though. It would be best for you to get a medkit or something to at least wrap your ankle or maybe a painkiller. Man, the pocket dimension couldn't have dropped you off at a storage room or something? Anywhere with things you could pick up and use? Seemed you would be starting here with nothing but the clothes on your back and the stolen keycard that still remained in your pocket.

The place you were spat out to was the corridor right after the checkpoint between Light and Heavy Containment. Judging by the design of the hall, you were definitely on the Heavy Containment side. The lights were still bright, far brighter than your previous experience with a containment breach. It seemed as though the facility wasn't too battered up... yet.

You mourned the loss of your S-Nav as you walked deeper into Heavy Containment Zone. You didn't exactly have a destination in mind but there was a place you wanted to check, assuming what you wanted to be there would be there. Then again, if all was right, you wouldn't be able to get in there with only a level 4 keycard. You checked your watch. It had been 5 minutes since the breach started. It felt so much longer when you were trapped in the pocket dimension.

You passed through a couple of halls, all completely empty at this point, and skipped past a few containment chambers before finally finding the one you were looking for. You pressed the button beside the nondescript door. 035's poster was plastered on the outside beside the door that lead to the control panel. Suspiciously, the door was already open... Well, you wouldn't have put it past 035 to have already somehow managed to convince someone to let him out. Similarly to his containment chamber at Site-19, this one also had sterile white walls.

White like snow. Clean. White and pure. Bleached clean until nothing can survive without being snuffed out, without being tamed. It was not rotten decay but it stifled you all the same. Maybe it would be better to be buried in the dirt and mould than to be virtuous and cleansed in the unnatural fluorescent lights.

You walked into the room with the control panel anyways. It was eerily reminiscent of the first time you met 035. With the exception of the table next to the control panel, the room was empty. You stepped in view of the window to check the back of the room. To your relief, there was indeed a door that should lead to a storage room once a code was entered.

"My, you look like you've been through quite an affair," an expected voice said from behind the glass.

You sighed. Ugh. You really didn't want to talk to 035 right now with the headache still present. You reached up to your nose to wipe away blood again. Yeah, you probably looked like you had gone through a blender or something. There was blood and a little bit of dirt on your blue jacket and the bottom pants leg that 106 had grabbed previously was ripped and dirty like it was corroded. Your bad ankle also didn't look great but eh, you could deal with it.

"035," you greeted if only out of politeness, "I see you've already convinced some poor soul to wear you."

035 laughed and gave you a spin as though he was a model showing off. Such a dramatic guy. "Just like when we first met, no? Though you are looking a little worse for wear."

Ah. You could always count on him to make snide comments. "Containment breaches are dangerous. Not that you'd know when you're trapped in your cell all the time."

Not that he'd know when he was one of the dangerous SCPs as well.

"As bold as ever, too."

"It keeps people on their toes," you jibed, making your way to the numbered keypad so you could get into the storage room. Let's see... It had been a long time since you'd had to remember codes for the facility. You didn't have any idea if this one would be the same as the one in-game either. Still, you'd rather die than ask 035 for help.

You were pretty sure you had read an SCP with the same number as the code... What was it? Something about a music box... Impatiently, you tapped the side of the keypad. There was a bit with an orangutan and non-sapient entities? Hm, it wasn't particularly infamous, the object itself wasn't a creature nor was it very long. It didn't start in the first two or three thousand and it definitely wasn't after the six thousand mark, then.

"Need help?" 035 teasingly offered.

"F*ck off," you told him sweetly and held your non-dominant hand up to flip him off. Hearing his voice only made your headache hurt more.

Music box, music box... Ah!

Quickly, you pressed the buttons for the code. 5731. Upon clicking enter, the door beeped and opened up. Silently, you applauded yourself. Within the storage room, there were two shelves, mostly empty except for a few stacks of paper, three water bottles and two medkits. A few boxes were also scattered around, largely unimportant. Hm. No SCP 500 pills, huh? It was to be expected since there was only a limited amount of it. There was no way the foundation was just going to leave them around randomly.

No matter, you could make do with the medkits. Using one of the water bottles, you washed your hands and cleaned the blood off your face. Next, you took one of the medkits, opened it and sat down so you could inspect your ankle. It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. You took off your shoe and sock before beginning to disinfect the area. The majority of the corrosion effect from 106 seemed to have been taken by the edge of your pants. You ripped the end of it and tossed it to the side. No use for that anymore.

Upon cleaning up the ankle, it looked to be more of a flesh wound than anything else. Not too much blood either. Hopefully, it wouldn't end up infected. You rummaged through the first aid kit to see if there was some sort of antibiotic cream. Ah, found it. Next was dressing and wrapping the wound. That was simple enough and you would say you got it done in record time.

Maybe trying to clean your wounds in a sketchy storage room wasn't the best idea but you were kind of pressed for time.

You slipped your sock and shoe back on and washed your hands again. Hmm, were one of the bottles in the medkit painkillers? You picked up the various bottles and checked the labels. Nope, no, not that one, or that one... The foundation really did pack a lot of things in their medkits, you thought as you set another item aside. You understood why though, better to be overprepared than underprepared. Finally, you found a bottle with the label still attached to it that read "ibuprofen". The corner of a small red sticker that was probably the price tag was half-peeled.

There were quite a few pills left when you opened the bottle. Because you weren't a weirdo who took pills dry when water was an option (that was to say, like a normal person), you gulped down a single pill with the water from a water bottle that you didn't use to clean your hands with. You probably would have just taken the pill dry if there wasn't water but nobody needed to know that.

It wouldn't be possible for you to take an entire medkit with you, unfortunately, so you settled for just taking everything out of it and tucking what could be useful in the pockets of your blue jacket. Thank goodness for large pockets. Now that your injuries were mostly taken care of, you get get the f*ck out of 035's cell. You were pretty sure he was saying some things while you were patching yourself up but you weren't paying attention.

"Feeling better now?" 035 commented as you walked out of the storage room.

"Only slightly." You sighed and stretched your arms out. "It's like I only got hit by a car compared to a train. Nevertheless, I can't stick around too long."

"You're leaving so soon again." His mask shifted from the smiling version to the frown.

You gave him a scathing look as you walked towards the glass and put a hand on the table in front of it. "Do you want 106 or any other SCP to come barging in here?"

"So that's where you were..." he muttered. "No matter. We had a delightful conversation last time, didn't we? Won't you let me out so we can speak a little more?"

What the heck was this guy going on about? The last time the two of you had spoken, he killed you. Several times. Not that he knew that, probably. Either way, it certainly wasn't a 'delightful conversation' and you absolutely did not want to let him out to 'speak a little more'. You pretended to think about what he said. "And how would letting you out benefit me?"

Jesters were performers at heart. They danced, they sang, they joked and often, perhaps most importantly, they were clever. Very clever. You were reminded of this as 035 eagerly painted scenes upon scenes with his words alone. Had you been anyone else, you may have been moved. But, you were no reigning monarch who laughed at fools, you were no groundling who looked up to the stage for a glimpse of the actors, no. Truthfully, you were nothing at all.

"035," you interrupted. He stopped speaking, dark ooze dripping from his limbs. "Won't you take at yourself?"

The mind was strong but the flesh was weak. All human bodies decayed eventually. Flesh and bones, meat and tissue, everything would fall apart. Maggots and flies drawn to the rot, eating away at the body.

"There's almost nothing left. If I let you out now, what use would you be to me?" You smiled. "I have no interested in things that can't help me."

And that was the truth, wasn't it? You would justify it to yourself in this way and pretend nothing else mattered at all. There was nothing you needed from him or anyone else if they didn't help you. An exchange. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, you were not kind enough (couldn't be kind here) to do things so selflessly.

It was easier this way. If you were kind, if you gave your heart to every person who crossed your path, there would be nothing left of you. Monsters lived here. So, you would bury your little feelings deep until nothing could be seen or heard. To blend in with the monsters, you had to pretend to be just as heartless as them.

(But in truth, maybe you just disliked 035.)

"Until the next time. Goodbye, 035."

Without hearing his response, you turned and departed from his containment chamber. You were tired. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since you got out of the pocket dimension. Everything would have been so much simpler had you stayed dead the first time. Humans, normal people like you, really weren't made to handle things like this.

The intercom buzzed on.

You paused.

Faintly, you could hear the background static of the intercom as someone breathed heavily. They sounded disoriented as they slurred and stammered out question after question, growing increasingly panicked. There was a lull in sound, then, mechanical whirring. The person over the intercom screamed.

The foundation was cold, not cruel. But, you could understand how someone could mistake it.

D-Class were disposable, often inmates on death row but not always. Hadn't you read about Protocol 12? It stated that in "times of duress", recruitment from other sources was allowed. What were some of the examples given? Oh, right, "political prisoners, refugee populations, and other civilian sources". Really, who knew what D-Class came from where unless you asked personally?

Human lives were short and fickle. What were a couple of thousand disposable ones to save the billions of other ones? You knew the reasoning, of course you did, that the foundation used to justify their means. None of it mattered to you. All you had to do was bury your heart and move on even when lingering in the past was the only thing you knew how to do.

The familiar warble of 106 passing through walls came over the intercom after the one who got their leg broken started whimpering. 5 seconds. Then, the intercom cut off. You stood there, wished for a kinder fate, and walked away.

Well, that solved the 106 problem.

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New SCPs in this chapter:

SCP 5731

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Published: November 30, 2022

Word count: 2,340

Death Counter: 20

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A reminder that MC is an unreliable narrator, they will lie to the people they're talking to, they will lie to you, they will lie to themselves! Chapter was supposed to have other things but 035 and MC just started talking. And talking. And I wasn't about to stop them so. Anyways, hi yes, I'm still alive. Lowkey want to pitch myself off a cliff because of school but I'll probably survive. Thanks for reading!