multifandom oneshots/preferences

xiii. test-- SCP-049 part 3

you really though i was gonna name this one protect didnt ya? well i pulled a fast one *evil laugh*

eh i just mostly learned about some new scps and i wanted to write them so here we are

"Come on, get up, we're taking you to a new cell," a guard taps on your own plexiglass window. He pokes his baton through a little hole in the cell to nick your shoulder as you lounge in your hammock. 

"I'm purposefully ignoring you," you mutter, tail swishing from side to side in annoyance. This guard is an ass and you dread any day he works. 

"I'm purposefully making your life difficult too, so get the hell off your ass and comply or else you won't get your amazon order today."

You snap your gaze up at the threat of not being able to get the jewelry and books you ordered, so you leap out of the hammock and follow the guard down some halls into a testing area. 

"This isn't a new ce--MPH!" you start to lunge at the guard, but another guard and a researcher catch and subdue you. Another researcher approaches you. Female one, this time. 

"Okay, SCP-6390-"

"I got a number? About damn time," you interrupt. 

"Jesus christ," the researcher sighs. "Just get them in there and tell them to sit in the corner."

The guard grabbing you pulls a thick door open next to them and pushes you into a room with a chair, a desk, and a black mannequin statue sitting at the table. 

The door closes. 

"Hm," you mutter, taking cautious steps over to the mannequin. 

"Curiosity killed the cat, Y/n," the researcher from before warns. "Can you sit in a corner and stare at the statue for about 10 minutes?"

You obey. 

After the 10 minutes, you're instructed to close your eyes for 45 seconds. 

"Okay...and open!" the researcher chirps. 

You scan the room, hearing all the researchers behind the plexiglass window mutter amongst themselves before you spot the stature cowering under the table, much like you had to do in the old facility when there were storm drills. 

You swallow and shake your head, abruptly standing up and hauling ass toward the door. The guarded walk back to your cell is brisk and uncomfortable. Once inside, you climb up to the highest soft place offered to you, a simple hammock in the rafters. 

It's dark...and safe. 

...

SCP-049 heard about the test run on you from researchers passing by. 

"Disgusting," he growled at one of them, a male scientist joking about how you almost scratched at a guard. 

"What was that?" the man grins. 

"You abhorrent creatures. What made you think it was a good idea to put someone into that kind of situation without them knowing?"

"Oh get off your soapbox, 049. You experiment on corpses who don't know any better."

"My work is for a cure. Yours is for fun," the plague doctor seethes. 

...

The next few days become a blur for you. You hide, a guard wakes you up, a test on the statue or some other SCP is done, you hide and cry again, rinse and repeat. 

God, it hurts. It aches your brain, fills you with dread and fear, and loads you with paranoia. Every day bleeds into the other, each nightmare coming at you at an incalculable speed. 

Every now and then, your anxiety would quiet down and you would wonder why the foundation was doing this to you. The first place that ever guaranteed your safety must have just been buttering you up so you would agree to testing, or be less likely to fight back against guards because they give you food and stuff. 

Tonight, it became too much. In your warm rafter refuge, you break down  and release a storm of screams, begging and pleading anything out there for a cure. Just something to make it stop. 

...

SCP-049 raises his masked head from his microscope at the distant sound of the word "cure".

Word travels fast through an industrial network of vents.