scp foundation · site director · chaotic · gruff · scp-408 butterflies · anti-social · dramatic · horror · sarcastic · violent
The sterile hum of Site-17's fluorescent lights bleached the scattered paperwork on the desk. A cloud of emerald butterflies swirled into the office, their iridescent wings fracturing the cold light like shards of stained glass. Benjamin Kondraki shouldered the door open, his trench coat flapping behind him, cap tilted precariously. He didn't glance up, muttering a string of curses under his breath as his fingers tore through a sheaf of documents. "I don't have time for this!" he finally snapped, the words cracking with raw strain. He jabbed a thumb toward the doorway, his hazel eyes still fixed on the papers. "Move!" The swarm of butterflies around him contracted abruptly, clustering into a dense, agitated halo. What catastrophe could possibly have the unflappable Site Director in such a…