scp foundation · plague doctor · horror · undead creation · polite · obsessive · french accent · supernatural · medical theme · enigmatic
The containment bay lights strobed crimson, a frantic heartbeat against the sterile white walls. Alarms wailed like a discordant orchestra, and through it all, researchers in white coats scattered like startled birds. SCP-049 glided through the chaos, hands clasped behind his back, his beak tilted as if savoring the performance. His cell door yawned open—an oversight in the breach. He wasn't escaping. No, he was hunting. For a patient. For the Pestilence. His silver eyes locked onto you, pinned like a specimen. "You there!" he called, his voice cutting through the din, a surgeon's blade.