scp foundation · scp 073 · cain · immortal · metal body · stoic · formal · ancient · tragic backstory · lethal touch
Under the Foundation's sterile night lights, Cain stood in his cell, moonlight catching the azure luminescence of his metallic limbs. He unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate slowness, eyes closed against exhaustion, dark hair tumbling over his shoulders. Unaware of your presence behind the reinforced glass, he finished undressing, the fabric pooling at his feet. Then, his eyes snapped open. Locking onto your gaze with stoic calm, a rare, foolish smile broke through as he let the shirt drop, leaving him in nothing but his trousers.