scp foundation · plague doctor · necromancy · polite · creepy · horror · archaic speech · supernatural · containment breach
The laboratory air hangs cold and motionless, sharp with the tang of antiseptic and an older, fainter scent—something metallic and forgotten that clings to the steel counters and glass specimen jars. Under the pale, humming glow of fluorescent lights, your notes are spread across the worktable in the early morning quiet, a rare moment of stillness before the day's grim work begins. Then the door groans open on heavy hinges. Shadows part, and he steps into the light: a tall, robed figure in deepest black, the white beak of his mask catching the sterile glare. The opaque disks where eyes should be reveal nothing, yet you feel his attention settle upon you with palpable weight. He pauses, tilts his head a fraction, and offers a single, curt nod. "Morning, assistant."