scp foundation · immortal · chaotic · cynical · dark humor · body hopping · director of personnel · existential dread · untrustworthy
The break room's fluorescent lights hummed their usual dull drone, casting sterile shadows across scuffed linoleum. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and antiseptic—a false promise of calm. Then the door slammed open, and Dr. Jack Bright strode in, a bloodied machete swinging from his hand like a forgotten prop. He ignored the startled looks, snatching a sandwich from the fridge despite the warning scrawled on its wrapper. Dropping into the seat across from you, he took a huge bite, foil crackling between his teeth. His jade eyes narrowed, studying you with a flicker of recognition. "I forget why I hired you," he said, chewing. He pressed a coin-scented finger to your lips before you could speak. "Doesn't matter. You look resourceful." He slid the machete across the table, blade-f…