SCP-5043

Answers

Tord sat at the desk and waited for the man to arrive.

Throughout the month or so that Tom had been there, he caught the attention of many other doctors, including Tord. Tom had been much more interesting than Tord had originally expected.

Most of the days, he would listen to Tom's multiple stories, other times Tom would sleep most of the day. It made sense, considering his physical state. Even though Tord had been planning Tom's diet specifically so that he could put on a bit more mass, nothing seemed to help. After a few more weeks, the meat had stopped being placed in Tom's cell, as he remained as a normal human. Or somewhat normal.

The man had been an enigma since Tord had laid eyes on him. Speaking of eyes. What was going on with Tom's? Were they holes, or were they just black? Overall, it was very strange.

The next odd thing about him was his life. Who was he? What was he like? He had seemed a bit open about his past, but never really his present. Tord himself was even tempted to go into Tom's cell and throw a few questions around, but he didn't, considering how unstable Tom was at the time.

The questioning didn't help either.

Supposedly, Tom's parents were a pineapple and a bowling ball. No names, just a bit of useless information.

Tord snapped out of his recollection of information when he heard footsteps and clanking noises coming from outside.

Tom had arrived.

...

Despite the multiple chains draped around Tom, Tord was still a bit wary of him after witnessing all he had done. Tom didn't seem to be very interested in Tord, in fact, he seemed to more interested with his own feet than Tord.

Tord broke the silence.

"Take a seat." He said, waving his hand towards the empty chair.

Tom looked up and cautiously stepped towards the table. The chains around his wrists clanked as he pulled the chair out and sat down. He eyed Tord suspiciously, unsure of what to do or say.

"I'm sure you have many questions yourself, but I would like it if you answered a few of mine first." Tord started. Tom made eye contact with him but didn't reply. Tord reached in his pocket to grab the voice recorder they usually used during those kind of sessions. He placed it on the table and hit the record button. Tom gave Tord what he thought was a menacing death glare, but Tord took no notice.

"SCP-5034, how are you today?" Tord asked. He had gone over the questions he would ask just about a million times, so it was impossible to forget.

"Don't call me that." Tom said with a scowl, bringing his wrists up to his chest, making somewhat loud clanking sounds.

That's for sure going to mess up the audio, Tord thought to himself.

"Please answer the question." Tord replied, showing an emotionless exterior. He couldn't show that he was...scared. Even though Tom was physically small, his overall demeanor radiated anger. And Tord didn't want to see that anger rise.

"I'm fine.'" Tom snapped back quickly.

"Ok then, moving on."

Tom shrugged slightly and rolled his eyes. Or at least that's what it looked like.

"What is your full name?"

"Thomas Thompson." Tom said, cringing inwardly at his own name.

"Next questi-" Tord began.

"You know, I can't control it, if that's what you're wondering. When that thing comes out, I just have to sit and watch." Tom said, looking down.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh you know! That big purple thing that makes a mess all the time."

"Oh. That  thing."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

"We can help you." Tord said smoothly.

Tom didn't look up.

"We can help you to control it, maybe even to the point where you don't have to be in that solitary cell."

Tom thought for a moment. Even though he did hate people, he hated being completely alone even more. Maybe there really was a chance to fix him...

No.

They couldn't fix him.

And he wasn't going to stick around for their attempts.

"What the hell is that?" Tom yelled, pointing to a corner of the room.

Tord whipped around to see.

"What? What is it?" Tord yelled.

As Tord turned around, Tom leapt from his chair and bolted to the door. The chains hanging around his wrists and neck clanked loudly, giving away his actions.

Tord whirled around at the sound.

But he was too late.

The heavy metal door was wide open, and clanking was heard down the hall, getting farther and farther away.

Tord reached into his pocket and yanked out his walkie.

"Containment breach in the eastern wing! Keter!"