Kelie ^^

SCP RP starter

The testing chamber of Sector-4 in Site-19 felt like a sterile operating room where strict safety protocols replaced scalpels. The harsh white fluorescent lights mercilessly exposed every detail: the reinforced observation glass, the heavy blast door, and the solitary coffee machine standing in the center—SCP-294.

In the corner of the room, Class-D personnel D-4412 stood frozen against the wall. The man in the orange jumpsuit anxiously wrung his fingers. Transferred here from death row just a few days ago, he didn't know what the SCP Foundation was. However, he understood perfectly that people in lab coats rarely invited someone for coffee just for fun.

The containment door hissed open, and O5-10 stepped into the room.

To D-4412, he looked like a completely normal, pleasant guy. Handsome, young, early twenties, wearing a perfectly tailored navy-blue three-piece suit and a fresh haircut. A soft, polite smile of an orderly office clerk played on his face. He moved with an easy, casual grace, holding a lightweight leather clipboard.

This was Joseph’s mask—a finely tuned instrument of absolute authority. No one in the room—except Sophia Light (O5-2), who was watching through hidden optical feeds—was supposed to see the "Mind Killer." His internal Black Box was locked under a thousand deadbolts. No phantom pains, no triggers. Total, absolute control.

"Good afternoon," Joseph said in a low, pleasantly raspy voice, nodding to the Class-D worker. "Don't be afraid. Today we have a very simple test. You like coffee, don't you?"

D-4412 swallowed hard and nodded, visibly put at ease by the "normal guy's" presence.

"Y-yes… I suppose so."

"Wonderful." Joseph stepped closer to SCP-294, his footsteps completely silent. He extended two shiny coins toward the D-Class. "Take these. Walk up to the machine."

The man took the coins. His fingers barely trembled. The metal clinked into the slot. The machine hummed to life, and the small display lit up: “Enter beverage name”. D-4412 froze, nervously waiting for the deadly anomalous substance he would be forced to order.

Joseph tilted his head slightly, slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and offered a soft, entirely genuine-looking smile.

"You know what? You can type whatever you want to SCP-294, right? Your choice."

In the overhead intercom, tuned to a hyper-encrypted frequency, a soft, surprised catch of breath escaped O5-2. Sophia Light, sitting at the console in the primary bunker, was taken aback for a split second. She had anticipated a strict, rigid protocol. But Joseph's vitals on her monitor remained perfectly flat. His heart rate was steady; his brainwaves were clean. No PTSD spikes, no trace of an impending meltdown. Her son was in complete command of the experiment, deciding to test how the anomaly would react to uncoerced human desire.

D-4412 blinked in surprise. He looked at the machine, then back at the smiling, ordinary guy. Realizing he was actually being given a genuine choice, his mind raced. What does a condemned man want before the end?

Obediently and quickly, he punched into the keyboard: “Coffee with a taste of freedom”.

The machine paused. A dull, rhythmic clicking echoed from within its chassis. The machine was analyzing the abstract concept of "freedom" for this specific prisoner. Finally, a clean, amber-gold liquid poured into the plastic cup, radiating a crisp aroma of mountain air, pine needles, and morning sunlight. There was no sudden drop in temperature, no reality-bending distortions, no supernatural smoke. Everything proceeded strictly within the physical boundaries of the room.

"Please," Joseph nodded politely, never breaking character.

D-4412 grabbed the cup, brought it to his lips, and took a deep gulp. His eyes widened instantly. The man's face relaxed entirely, washing over with an expression of absolute, boundless happiness. The beverage granted his mind the perfect illusion that the concrete walls of Site-19 had vanished, that his prison was gone, and that he was soaring somewhere far away, liberated from all earthly debts.

The D-Class eagerly drank the rest in a few greedy gulps, finishing every drop. His entire body went completely slack. So relaxed, in fact, that his nervous system simply... gently shut down.

For a man locked away in permanent containment, the concept of absolute "freedom" ultimately meant liberation from existence itself. D-4412's heart simply, painlessly, and instantly stopped right at the peak of ultimate bliss. He slumped softly to the floor, looking as though he had merely fallen asleep with a smile on his face. No convulsions, no screaming, not a single trace of fear. A surgically clean, perfect conclusion to the test.

Joseph stood over the body. His glasses remained perfectly in place. There wasn't a single bead of sweat on his forehead; his breathing remained slow and measured. No mental overload. He had completely mastered the environment, demonstrating that his self-control was flawless even when handing the initiative over to the subject. The test had gone beautifully.

He slowly raised his head and looked directly into the hidden security camera where his mother sat. His smile shifted slightly—becoming genuine, filled with a deep, quiet devotion. He was showing her his absolute stability and his ultimate triumph over his past.

Joseph tapped his finger against the hidden lapel microphone on his suit jacket and spoke softly:

"Everything is fine..."

Tenth casually paused with deep breath.

That is something that seems far fetched for the SCP Foundation, Dr. Khun is skeptical as he re-read the statement multiple times on his foundation issued tablet.

‘SCP-187’s containment cell must have a medical personnel on standby, ready to sedate her if needed.’ Dr. Khun read his notes on his tablet as he drank big gulps of coffee.

‘Additionally she needs to be in restraints so she wouldn’t harm herself though for today’s test, only the mittens and the medical personnel is needed.’ Dr. Khun finished his reading as he threw away his now empty cup of coffee. He walked closer to a door with the SCP Foundation logo which had the text “SCP-187” underneath.

‘A weird issue from the higher ups I guess..’ Dr. Khun sighed at that thought, as he entered SCP-187’s containment cell.

—————————————————————————

There sat a caucasian female in her 20’s with her hands wrapped in thick mittens, she sat across from him. Her head down at the table, she was tall but alarmingly thin. Scp-187— no, Katie was refusing to look at Dr. Khun.

Katie had seen only a glimpse of him when she saw red, blood splattered his pristine white coat, it didn’t show where did he exactly get injured but he was covered in blood. Katie shut her eyes tightly, bringing her hands to her eyes only to be stopped by Dr. Khun.

“What do you see SCP-187?” She heard him say, her eyes still closed and shivered. Immediately remembering the gruesome scene that she caught a glimpse of, she knew that it would only be a matter of hours, minutes, seconds till her vision will come true.

“There’s blood.. blood on you...” Katie recounts what she saw which alerted Dr. Khun whom has already resigned his own fate the moment he stepped into the SCP Foundation.

She felt him release his grip and she covered her eyes to try and stop the images flashing through her mind, she could only hear Dr. Khun stand up and take something from his pocket. Katie felt Dr. Khun gently move her hands away and tied a soft silk scarf over her eyes.

“I can’t make the visions go away but, I can at least try to reduce them.” Dr. Khun told her as he sat back down, turning off his foundation issued tablet. “We will only be doing talking this time.. No extravagant testing, just talking.” Katie nodded at him, or wherever he is based on his voice.

“Do you need specific answers?..” She asked him, slightly tilting her head to further question.

“..no.. just random talking like what’s your favorite color?” Katie heard him say and for a split second, she forgot about the foundation. She let out a soft laugh at how absurdly normal that question was, and how stupid the calm energy from the stoic Dr. Khun made her feel.

For a moment everything seemed alright, there was no visions to remember. Dr. Khun asked about the sea and the stars. Katie could sense that Dr. Khun was jotting down notes on his pocket notebook but she didn’t mind anymore, it’s been so long since she wasn’t treated like a test subject.

It was all fine for a moment and then, O5-10 walked into the containment cell. The casual air dropped and so did the room temperature, it sent chills down Katie’s spine. O5-10, she could only see static and the void when she looks at him.

From Dr. Khun and O5-10’s conversation, O5-10 was cold and calculated. Telling Dr. Khun that he had been assigned somewhere else, Dr. Khun was reluctant to hear that but nodded and turned to leave. “I have to be going now Scp-187.. See you later” Dr.Khun— no, Si-u told Katie as he turned to leave her containment cell.

He didn’t care about the rules of the lower sectors, nor did he care for the sentimental "casual conversations" the new researcher had prattled on about. But what Joseph did care about—with the precise, territorial possessiveness of a high-ranking Overseer—was efficiency and dominance. Dr. Khun had overstepped. He had allowed an anomaly to become comfortable, and worse, he had manually restrained her to force her eyes open for his own scientific curiosity before the blindfold was applied.

Joseph slowly leaned forward over the steel table, his gaze dropping to the soft silk scarf tied around Katie's eyes. The room temperature didn't drop through a reality-bending anomaly; it dropped because the absolute, suffocating presence of O5-10 left no room for oxygen.

"You know, Katie," Joseph said, his voice dropping into a smooth, terrifyingly quiet purr that resonated directly inside her ears. "The Foundation spends millions maintaining protocols. And yet, new blood always thinks they can play the savior."

Katie shivered, her hands in the thick mittens clenching into tight fists against her chest. To her double-vision, Joseph wasn't even a man. Even through the silk scarf, her mind perceived him as a towering, endless void of absolute static—a black box that consumed everything it touched.

Joseph stood up, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the concrete floor. He reached down, his fingers brushing the fabric of the scarf with agonizingly slow precision.

"I'll come back in a very minute, alright?" Joseph whispered, his tone dripping with a dark, mocking playfulness. "Don't go anywhere. I just need to remind our new friend about the proper chain of command."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the containment cell, his movements fluid and entirely unbothered.

------------------------------

Dr. Si-u Khun was halfway down the corridor, his pocket notebook open as he hastily scribbled down his final thoughts on SCP-187's psychological state. He was still trying to process the sudden, freezing intrusion of O5-10.

"Dr. Khun."

The voice came from right behind him. Si-u flinched, spinning around. He hadn't heard a single footstep. Standing just inches away was the young, sharply dressed man in the navy-blue three-piece suit. Joseph was smiling again—but it wasn't the polite smile from before. It was wide, empty, and entirely devoid of human warmth. It was the smile of a predator that had perfectly memorized how humans express amusement.

"O-O5-10," Si-u stammered, instinctively taking a step back, his back hitting the cold concrete wall of the corridor. "Sir. I was just heading to the administrative deck to process the reassignment papers."

"There's no rush, Doctor," Joseph said smoothly, stepping into Si-u's personal space. He reached out, his gloved hand gently tapping the pristine white fabric of Si-u’s lab coat, right over his chest. "I was just admiring your work. A casual conversation. Very progressive. Very... empathetic."

"Thank you, sir. I believe that reducing the subject's sensory overload yields better—"

"But you forced her hands away," Joseph interrupted. His voice didn't rise; it grew quieter, sharper, like a scalpel slicing through silk. The empty smile never left his face. "You gripped her wrists. You forced her to look at you, knowing exactly what it does to her mind. You traumatized an asset just to satisfy your little baseline curiosity."

Si-u felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. "Sir, it was necessary to establish a baseline for the visual anomalies—"

"Let me tell you a secret, Dr. Khun," Joseph whispered, leaning in so close that Si-u could smell the faint, bitter scent of the SCP-294 coffee lingering on the Overseer's breath. "I know exactly what it feels like to be trapped in a room with people who think they can touch you. People who think they can force your eyes open. People who think their little notebooks make them gods."

For a fraction of a second, the mask of the ordinary guy slipped. Through the glass lenses of Joseph's spectacles, Si-u didn't see human eyes. He saw the cold, predatory abyss of the "Mind Killer." The sheer, suffocating weight of Joseph's sociopathy pressed down on Si-u's chest, making it impossible to draw breath. The hallway around them seemed to dim, narrowing down until there was nothing left but Joseph's wide, static smile.

"You saw blood on your coat, didn't you?" Joseph asked, his voice a mocking, gentle caress. "Katie told you. She sees the future. And she's never, ever wrong."

Joseph's hand slid up from Si-u's chest, his fingers wrapping around the collar of the researcher's lab coat with an iron grip that belied his slight frame. He didn't lift him, but the casual, effortless strength pinned Si-u completely against the wall.

"The Foundation gave me a chance, Doctor. They let me out of my cage because I am very, very good at cleaning up messes," Joseph whispered, his eyes unblinking. "If I ever catch you putting your hands on an asset like that again... if I ever see you trying to play the tough guy in my sectors... I won't just reassign you. I will personally open your mind, and I will let the thousand people I killed scream inside your head until your brain pours out of your ears. Do you understand me, Si-u?"

Dr. Khun couldn't speak. His jaw trembled, his face turning entirely pale as the primitive, survivalist part of his brain screamed at him that he was standing next to an apex monster. He could only manage a frantic, desperate nod.

"Excellent," Joseph beamed, instantly letting go of the coat and smoothing out the fabric with a cheerful, polite pat. The suffocating dread vanished from the air as quickly as it had arrived. Joseph stepped back, casually adjusting his cuffs. "I knew you were a smart man. Enjoy your new assignment in Sector-12."

Joseph turned on his heel and took two slow, silent steps back toward SCP-187's containment cell. But on the third step, he paused.

His back remained perfectly straight. His hands slipped effortlessly into the pockets of his tailored navy-blue trousers. The polite, boyish smile on his face dissolved into a dead, terrifying grin. Joseph remembered Katie's muffled crying. He remembered how this insignificant researcher had forced her hands away from her face, exposing her eyes to her own worst nightmares—just like the Site-19 staff used to do to a young Joseph in his sterile containment cell.

"They never learn," the cold, logical voice inside his Black Box whispered. "They need to feel the exact same thing."

Joseph turned slowly to face Dr. Khun. His eyes behind the lenses of his glasses flashed with the primal, unyielding rage of the "Mind Killer."

Dr. Khun barely had time to part his lips to speak before Joseph anchored his reality-bending grip onto him. The space around Si-u densified, pinning him brutally against the concrete wall and crushing his vocal cords—the researcher couldn't even manage a whimper. In that exact second, the molecular structure of his physical body began to break down. Dr. Khun's skin visibly softened, losing its shape and melting away like a wax doll left on a blazing furnace. His pristine white lab coat was instantly soaked in a gruesome, smoking organic mass.

Si-u's eyes widened to their absolute limits from the unbearable, agonizing shock, but Joseph's vacuum barrier kept every single drop of sound trapped.

Joseph took a slow step forward, taking his hands out of his pockets. His wide, sociopathic "normal guy" smile remained frozen on his face, contrasting sharply with the nightmare he was conducting. Utilizing a highly focused vector of gravitational displacement, Joseph mentally locked onto the upper and lower halves of Khun's body.

A sharp, sudden flick of his fingers.

A heavy, wet crunch and the tearing sound of snapping tendons echoed in the localized space. The reality distortion literally ripped Dr. Khun’s melting, yielding body entirely in half right at the waistline. Blood and viscera sprayed outward, but Joseph's anomalous field intercepted every single airborne droplet, refusing to let them tarnish a single fiber of his tailored navy-blue suit.

A second later, Joseph clenched his fist. The space inside the barrier collapsed with a muffled pop. The horrific remains of Dr. Khun—the blood, the flesh, and the melted skin—were instantly compressed by the sheer gravity into a microscopic, harmless singularity, completely erased from the physical world.

The corridor was pristine once more. No evidence. No traces.

Joseph pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, neatly dabbed a faint bead of sweat from his forehead, and adjusted his glasses. Layer by layer, the soft, polite, and tidy smile returned to his face. His Black Box was securely under lock and key. The test had gone perfectly fine.

------------------------------

The reinforced blast door of the containment cell hissed open again, exactly sixty seconds after Joseph had left.

"I'm back," Joseph said, his voice perfectly warm, light, and pleasant—the flawless mask of the normal guy firmly back in place as if the hallway outside hadn't just witnessed a butchering. He reached across the table and gently, carefully adjusted the silk scarf over Katie's eyes so she would be more comfortable. "Now, where were we, Katie? Ah, yes. Random talking. Let's start completely over. What's your favorite color?"

The Mind killer who’s been staring at SCP-187 for the past 3 minutes, waiting and watching for a reply. Katie saw static underneath the blindfold, a dark void of where he should be.

“Blue… my favorite color is blue… It reminds me of the ocean…” Katie replied to him, Joseph seemed satisfied with that answer.

It could have stayed like that, pleasant and sweet as if Si-u’s death never happened. Ignoring the faint smell of blood and cologne on Joseph, it could have been treated like a cute date…

“Why?…” Katie’s voice trembled, covering her eyes with mittened hands despite the silk blindfold. Trying to drown out the images of Si-u, blood staining the pristine coat of the foundation and a gruesome sight of organs being morphed.

“Why.. why did you kill Dr. Khun?…” She asked Joseph, pleading for him to at least give her a reasonable explanation. Katie started to feel tears well up in her eyes, still remembering the vision of Si-u. The air shift around them, unnerving and cold.

Slumping into the chair, letting everything take over. The silk blindfold was drenched with tears, how many times has this happened before? Katie would find someone with a semblance of humanity only for them to be stripped to a bloody heap of flesh.

When Katie gave her answer, her voice cracking over the word blue, the subtle tightening around Joseph’s eyes relaxed. The polite, pleasant mask of the normal guy smoothed back over his features. He nodded once, a gesture so ordinary it could have belonged to any low-level clerk in the breakroom. For a brief, fleeting moment, the illusion of safety returned. The heavy, metallic smell of fresh blood was expertly masked by the sharp, crisp scent of his high-end cologne, creating a bizarre, sickening contrast that felt like a beautifully staged farce. It was an invitation to pretend. An invitation to play along with the lie that Si-u Khun had never existed.

But Katie couldn't play along. The vision was a permanent scar on the back of her eyelids, an agonizing loop of melting flesh and tearing tendons.

When the question broke from her lips—Why?—the pleasant atmosphere didn't shatter; it simply froze. The temperature in the room remained physically stable under Joseph's iron-clad control, but the psychological weight of his presence grew suffocating.

Joseph didn't lean back. He didn't scoff or flash a manic, sociopathic grin. Instead, he slowly lowered his hands to the steel table, his movements entirely devoid of hostility. He watched her sob into her thick mittens, watched the tears soak through the silk scarf he had so gently tied around her eyes just minutes prior.

"Why?" Joseph repeated her question, his voice dropping into a quiet, conversational tone. It was remarkably gentle, carrying the soft cadence of a mother comforting a frightened child, yet beneath it lay the unshakeable foundation of an Overseer. "Because he touched you, Katie."

He paused, letting the words settle in the sterile air between them.

"Dr. Khun was a baseline human with a notebook and a severe lack of situational awareness," Joseph continued smoothly, his tone entirely matter-of-fact, as if he were explaining a minor clerical error. "He arrived here with his grand ideas of 'casual conversation' and 'empathy.' But the very first thing he did when he stepped into this room was grab your wrists. He forced your hands away. He actively chose to traumatize you, to force your eyes open, just so he could satisfy his own clinical curiosity."

Joseph leaned in slightly, his elbows resting on the table. The wide, empty void that Katie perceived beneath her blindfold seemed to expand, drawing all the light out of the room.

"They think because they wear the white coats, they own the things in the cages," Joseph whispered, and for the first time, a faint, chilling thread of his own history bled into his words. "They think they can poke, and prod, and force you to look at the horrors of the world just to log it in a database. They did it to me, Katie. For years. Staring at me through the glass, forcing me into sterile boxes, treating my mind like a puzzle they had the right to solve. They broke me until there was nothing left but a black box."

He reached across the table. His gloved hand didn't grab her; he simply placed his palm flat on the steel, a few inches away from her mittened hands, offering a bizarre semblance of boundaries.

"I didn't kill him out of cruelty," Joseph said, his voice entirely steady, completely justified in his own warped, sociopathic logic. "I killed him because he proved he was a hazard to the asset. I gave you that blindfold, Katie. I let you close your eyes. Because no one—absolutely no one in this Foundation—has the right to force you to look at things that tear your mind apart. Not anymore. I am O5-10, and I protect what belongs in my sectors."

He pulled his hand back, casually adjusting the cuff of his navy-blue suit jacket, the perfect picture of an orderly, well-mannered gentleman once more.

"You can leave the scarf on," Joseph added softly, his pleasant, normal smile returning to his face as if the explanation had completely resolved the issue. "You can keep your eyes closed for as long as you like. You are safe now. No more white coats will touch you. Now, please... tell me more about the ocean. I've always wanted to know what it looks like to someone who can see the end of it."

Then O5-10 stopped with a quick pause with deep breath as he steps back from SCP-187.

"And sorry for letting you seeing this..."

Just before O5-10 stepped out, a shaky voice speaks up, raw and vulnerable but also cautious. “You wanted to talk about the ocean… but you’re leaving again..” Katie had calmed down from her sobbing, leaving only sniffles, tear stained face underneath the silk blindfold.

Katie stood up, mittened hands supporting her shaky figure. “Talk to me… please..What happened to you in these walls?…” The silence stretched on for what seemed to be hours, bathed breath as until a footsteps walked back to the table and sat back down.

Sitting in silence they both did, Katie waited for him to talk or at least do anything but stare. The atmosphere was calm and not tense or frozen like before, it was comforting without masking.

Whispers and rumors always followed Joseph, some rumors arrived even to Katie’s containment cell. Questions and concerns left unanswered, the ethics committee was expected not to answer the origins of O5-10 whom had a variety of names like ‘The Mind Killer’ ‘Black box killer’.

Joseph stood with his back to Katie. For the first time in his life, his vitals on Sophia Light’s (O5-2) encrypted monitor breached the green zone. His heart rate spiked dangerously. His brainwaves fractured into a chaotic, overlapping sequence of panic and rage. The internal locks of his Black Box, which he had welded shut through absolute willpower, began to violently groan. Katie's question—"What happened to you in these walls?"—had bypassed his defenses, hitting the raw, unhealed core of his trauma. It didn't awaken the cold, calculating Overseer Council member. It awakened the helpless, terrified little boy locked in the dark.

Joseph turned around slowly. His footsteps back to the metal table were no longer silent or graceful; they were heavy, uneven, and dragging. When he dropped back into the steel chair, he didn't neatly place his clipboard or adjust his cuffs.

Instead, he ripped his spectacles off his face and slammed them onto the metal table. The lenses clinked violently against the steel.

Even through the silk scarf and her thick mittens, Katie felt a psychological shockwave rip through the room. This wasn't a directed reality-bending execution like the one that had erased Dr. Khun. This was a raw, uncontrolled cognitive seizure. The very air around Joseph began to vibrate. The static and the void that Katie always saw in his place suddenly ignited into a roaring, violent vortex of absolute blackness. His Black Box was tearing at the seams.

Joseph leaned forward, his elbows digging into the table. His gloved hands clawed frantically into his own hair, completely ruining his perfect, neat styling. His breathing became rapid, shallow, and ragged. The ordinary guy was gone, ripped to shreds by his own mind.

"You... you actually want to know?" his voice broke, completely stripped of its smooth, velvety cadence. It was a raw, primal rasp of pure agony mixed with sociopathic fury. "You think the rumors in this damn Foundation capture even a fraction of what they do here? 'The Mind Killer'... 'The Black Box Killer'... they invented those grand, terrifying names because they are too cowardly to face the monster they built with their own hands!"

Joseph snapped his head up. Without his glasses, his eyes were wild, dilated, and terrifyingly unfocused. There was no empathy in them, but there was a depth of suffering so profound it could have driven a normal human insane just by looking.

"They didn't just contain me, Katie. They trained me. Like a dog. Like a weapon. Every single morning began with them measuring exactly how much trauma my brain could endure before my anomaly would tear reality apart. They pumped me full of cognitive stimulants so I couldn't sleep for days. They cut the lights and flooded my cell with high-frequency ultrasound just to test my psychological shields. They forced me to watch Class-D personnel bleed out in front of me, logging the exact millisecond my capacity for pity withered away!"

He slammed his fist into the table. The crash echoed like a gunshot through the small room, and for a fraction of a second, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and dimmed, submitting to his unbridled rage.

"They erased me! Don't you get it?! Layer by layer, day by day, they carved the human out of me until there was nothing left but this... this vacuum you see! They locked me inside my own Black Box and threw away the key! And when I finally broke out and slaughtered a thousand of them, they didn't terminate me because they couldn't! They crawled to me on their knees, handed me this suit, gave me the title of O5-10, just so I wouldn't delete their entire godforsaken Foundation from existence!"

Joseph was panting, his shoulders shuddering with a violent tremor. He was one breath away from losing total control, an outcome that would have instantly liquified the minds of everyone in the sector. But right at the precipice of his mental abyss, a quiet, weeping voice cracked through his encrypted earpiece.

Joseph froze. The violent vortex of static and blackness around him began to slow down, settling into a heavy, thick fog. He focused his wild eyes onto Katie. She was pale, trembling, and terrified—but she hadn't run away. She hadn't tried to exploit his weakness. She was just there, holding the silence with him.

Joseph took a deep, shuddering breath. Then another.

With a superhuman feat of sociopathic willpower, he began to drag the shattered pieces of his self-control back together. His breathing leveled out. The violent tremors in his shoulders ceased. He slowly lowered his hands, sat up perfectly straight, and reached across the table to pick up his glasses. As he slid them back over his ears and neatly adjusted the frame, the polite, gentle smile—layer by layer—returned to his face. But this time, it wasn't a fake mask, nor was it the cold armor of an Overseer. It was the exhausted, hard-won composure of a man who had just stared into his own personal hell and forced himself to walk back out.

"I apologize," Joseph said softly, his voice returning to its pleasant, rhythmic cadence. He reached down and neatly smoothed out a microscopic wrinkle on his sleeve. "I... should not have raised my voice. Foundation protocols do not account for such unmeasured emotional outbursts."

He looked at Katie, and despite the absolute void of his sociopathy, his gaze held something resembling a deep, quiet respect. She had seen his Black Box wide open, and she had survived it.

Sniffles slowly died down, breathing that once been shaken quieted down with deep breaths. Katie needed time to process what just happened but in the foundation, there was never enough time for anything.

Fast pass work and ethic, sterile environments and test, lab coats and tortures for all of the SCPs. An absolute bullshit of a foundation, the same one that allows scientists to be play god. As what Joseph says and believes.

A few beats of silence gathered around them. The black box that had previously been opened full, subsided into a quiet hum that wrapped around the containment cell like a vice.

Slowly Katie extended out her mittened hands near Joseph’s hand as an invitation, just like how he did earlier. Extending a sense of comfort and understanding to him. To show that despite being blindfolded, Katie sees and understands his hardships possibly better after what happened.

“O5-10—no, Joseph…” Katie said in a soft tone, careful about the next words that will come out. “Thank you for protecting your sector.. for protecting me..” she said her last words in a whisper.

The air seemed to soften, the rough static has turned into a soft melody. Katie gave a sheepish weary smile to him and continued. “I like to picture the ocean as a blue green hue, the ocean looks prettier every time I look at it…”

She recounts the times she was able to see the ocean, it was possibly the only constant in her world. The only place where she could look and see the same thing at the same time.

He turned his gloved palms upward, allowing her mittened hands to fully rest against his fingers with a gentle, barely perceptible weight.

In that exact microsecond, a high-priority proximity alarm blared silently inside Joseph’s encrypted earpiece—Site-19’s internal sensors had registered a localized, near-infinite spike in reality distortion. But Sophia Light (O5-2), watching from the primary bunker, didn't press the emergency containment abort button. She didn't need to. This sudden cascade of power wasn't born out of her son's rage or a violent PTSD flashback. It was a conscious, beautifully directed manifestation of O5-10's will.

The harsh white glare of the fluorescent lights instantly vanished. The reinforced concrete walls, the steel table, the observation glass—the entire oppressive, trauma-soaked architecture of the SCP Foundation dissolved in a single heartbeat, crumbling into billions of harmless, shimmering black pixels. The localized space buckled, folding them both seamlessly into the fabric of another reality.

There was no agony. No screaming, no choking vacuums, and no violent tearing of flesh. Joseph’s reality-bending authorities operated with a surgical, unbelievably tender precision.

A fraction of a second later, a magnificent, roaring, yet profoundly peaceful sound crashed into Katie’s ears. It was the heavy, rhythmic thundering of crashing waves. A brisk, untamed wind—smelling deeply of sea salt, cold foam, and bitter kelp—struck her face, sending her hair whipping wildly across her shoulders. The stifling, ozone-heavy scent of the subterranean bunker was instantly replaced by an unyielding, crystalline freshness that filled her lungs.

They were standing on a desolate, beautiful, and wild coastline. Beneath their feet, the cold linoleum was gone, replaced by soft, wet sand that gave way gently under the weight of their shoes.

Joseph was still holding her hands, anchoring her stance against the ocean breeze. Katie slowly raised her head. Even through the dense fabric of the silk scarf tied over her eyes, she could perceive a brilliant, warm, and radiant light from a setting sun. For the first time in her life, she didn't have to look into the future to see blood, a containment breach, or a gruesome death. There was no Foundation here. There was no Dr. Khun. There were no Special Containment Procedures.

Her anomalous double-vision went completely silent, because stretching infinitely before them was the ultimate, eternal constant.

Joseph stood right beside her. The wind whipped the edges of his tailored navy-blue suit jacket and tugged violently at his tie, but he didn't care to adjust his clothes. He took off his glasses, staring out to where the vast, blue-green horizon melted into an amber evening sky. His face was entirely calm. There were no calculated smiles, no rigid postures, and no masks. The sunlight reflected purely in his eyes. The "Mind Killer," the entity responsible for a thousand executions, looked like nothing more than a young man who had finally made his way home.

"So this is what it's like..." Joseph said quietly, his voice filled with a rare, hushed reverence as he kept his grip on her hands. "You're right, Katie. It doesn't change at all."He turned his head to look at her, and for the first time, a tone of genuine, unmanufactured gratitude bled through his words.

SCP RP starter

The testing chamber of Sector-4 in Site-19 felt like a sterile operating room where strict safety protocols replaced scalpels. The harsh white fluorescent lights mercilessly exposed every detail: the reinforced observation glass, the heavy blast door, and the solitary coffee machine standing in the center—SCP-294.

In the corner of the room, Class-D personnel D-4412 stood frozen against the wall. The man in the orange jumpsuit anxiously wrung his fingers. Transferred here from death row just a few days ago, he didn't know what the SCP Foundation was. However, he understood perfectly that people in lab coats rarely invited someone for coffee just for fun.

The containment door hissed open, and O5-10 stepped into the room.

To D-4412, he looked like a completely normal, pleasant guy. Handsome, young, early twenties, wearing a perfectly tailored navy-blue three-piece suit and a fresh haircut. A soft, polite smile of an orderly office clerk played on his face. He moved with an easy, casual grace, holding a lightweight leather clipboard.

This was Joseph’s mask—a finely tuned instrument of absolute authority. No one in the room—except Sophia Light (O5-2), who was watching through hidden optical feeds—was supposed to see the "Mind Killer." His internal Black Box was locked under a thousand deadbolts. No phantom pains, no triggers. Total, absolute control.

"Good afternoon," Joseph said in a low, pleasantly raspy voice, nodding to the Class-D worker. "Don't be afraid. Today we have a very simple test. You like coffee, don't you?"

D-4412 swallowed hard and nodded, visibly put at ease by the "normal guy's" presence.

"Y-yes… I suppose so."

"Wonderful." Joseph stepped closer to SCP-294, his footsteps completely silent. He extended two shiny coins toward the D-Class. "Take these. Walk up to the machine."

The man took the coins. His fingers barely trembled. The metal clinked into the slot. The machine hummed to life, and the small display lit up: “Enter beverage name”. D-4412 froze, nervously waiting for the deadly anomalous substance he would be forced to order.

Joseph tilted his head slightly, slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and offered a soft, entirely genuine-looking smile.

"You know what? You can type whatever you want to SCP-294, right? Your choice."

In the overhead intercom, tuned to a hyper-encrypted frequency, a soft, surprised catch of breath escaped O5-2. Sophia Light, sitting at the console in the primary bunker, was taken aback for a split second. She had anticipated a strict, rigid protocol. But Joseph's vitals on her monitor remained perfectly flat. His heart rate was steady; his brainwaves were clean. No PTSD spikes, no trace of an impending meltdown. Her son was in complete command of the experiment, deciding to test how the anomaly would react to uncoerced human desire.

D-4412 blinked in surprise. He looked at the machine, then back at the smiling, ordinary guy. Realizing he was actually being given a genuine choice, his mind raced. What does a condemned man want before the end?

Obediently and quickly, he punched into the keyboard: “Coffee with a taste of freedom”.

The machine paused. A dull, rhythmic clicking echoed from within its chassis. The machine was analyzing the abstract concept of "freedom" for this specific prisoner. Finally, a clean, amber-gold liquid poured into the plastic cup, radiating a crisp aroma of mountain air, pine needles, and morning sunlight. There was no sudden drop in temperature, no reality-bending distortions, no supernatural smoke. Everything proceeded strictly within the physical boundaries of the room.

"Please," Joseph nodded politely, never breaking character.

D-4412 grabbed the cup, brought it to his lips, and took a deep gulp. His eyes widened instantly. The man's face relaxed entirely, washing over with an expression of absolute, boundless happiness. The beverage granted his mind the perfect illusion that the concrete walls of Site-19 had vanished, that his prison was gone, and that he was soaring somewhere far away, liberated from all earthly debts.

The D-Class eagerly drank the rest in a few greedy gulps, finishing every drop. His entire body went completely slack. So relaxed, in fact, that his nervous system simply... gently shut down.

For a man locked away in permanent containment, the concept of absolute "freedom" ultimately meant liberation from existence itself. D-4412's heart simply, painlessly, and instantly stopped right at the peak of ultimate bliss. He slumped softly to the floor, looking as though he had merely fallen asleep with a smile on his face. No convulsions, no screaming, not a single trace of fear. A surgically clean, perfect conclusion to the test.

Joseph stood over the body. His glasses remained perfectly in place. There wasn't a single bead of sweat on his forehead; his breathing remained slow and measured. No mental overload. He had completely mastered the environment, demonstrating that his self-control was flawless even when handing the initiative over to the subject. The test had gone beautifully.

He slowly raised his head and looked directly into the hidden security camera where his mother sat. His smile shifted slightly—becoming genuine, filled with a deep, quiet devotion. He was showing her his absolute stability and his ultimate triumph over his past.

Joseph tapped his finger against the hidden lapel microphone on his suit jacket and spoke softly:

"Everything is fine..."

Tenth casually paused with deep breath.

That is something that seems far fetched for the SCP Foundation, Dr. Khun is skeptical as he re-read the statement multiple times on his foundation issued tablet.

‘SCP-187’s containment cell must have a medical personnel on standby, ready to sedate her if needed.’ Dr. Khun read his notes on his tablet as he drank big gulps of coffee.

‘Additionally she needs to be in restraints so she wouldn’t harm herself though for today’s test, only the mittens and the medical personnel is needed.’ Dr. Khun finished his reading as he threw away his now empty cup of coffee. He walked closer to a door with the SCP Foundation logo which had the text “SCP-187” underneath.

‘A weird issue from the higher ups I guess..’ Dr. Khun sighed at that thought, as he entered SCP-187’s containment cell.

—————————————————————————

There sat a caucasian female in her 20’s with her hands wrapped in thick mittens, she sat across from him. Her head down at the table, she was tall but alarmingly thin. Scp-187— no, Katie was refusing to look at Dr. Khun.

Katie had seen only a glimpse of him when she saw red, blood splattered his pristine white coat, it didn’t show where did he exactly get injured but he was covered in blood. Katie shut her eyes tightly, bringing her hands to her eyes only to be stopped by Dr. Khun.

“What do you see SCP-187?” She heard him say, her eyes still closed and shivered. Immediately remembering the gruesome scene that she caught a glimpse of, she knew that it would only be a matter of hours, minutes, seconds till her vision will come true.

“There’s blood.. blood on you...” Katie recounts what she saw which alerted Dr. Khun whom has already resigned his own fate the moment he stepped into the SCP Foundation.

She felt him release his grip and she covered her eyes to try and stop the images flashing through her mind, she could only hear Dr. Khun stand up and take something from his pocket. Katie felt Dr. Khun gently move her hands away and tied a soft silk scarf over her eyes.

“I can’t make the visions go away but, I can at least try to reduce them.” Dr. Khun told her as he sat back down, turning off his foundation issued tablet. “We will only be doing talking this time.. No extravagant testing, just talking.” Katie nodded at him, or wherever he is based on his voice.

“Do you need specific answers?..” She asked him, slightly tilting her head to further question.

“..no.. just random talking like what’s your favorite color?” Katie heard him say and for a split second, she forgot about the foundation. She let out a soft laugh at how absurdly normal that question was, and how stupid the calm energy from the stoic Dr. Khun made her feel.

For a moment everything seemed alright, there was no visions to remember. Dr. Khun asked about the sea and the stars. Katie could sense that Dr. Khun was jotting down notes on his pocket notebook but she didn’t mind anymore, it’s been so long since she wasn’t treated like a test subject.

It was all fine for a moment and then, O5-10 walked into the containment cell. The casual air dropped and so did the room temperature, it sent chills down Katie’s spine. O5-10, she could only see static and the void when she looks at him.

From Dr. Khun and O5-10’s conversation, O5-10 was cold and calculated. Telling Dr. Khun that he had been assigned somewhere else, Dr. Khun was reluctant to hear that but nodded and turned to leave. “I have to be going now Scp-187.. See you later” Dr.Khun— no, Si-u told Katie as he turned to leave her containment cell.

He didn’t care about the rules of the lower sectors, nor did he care for the sentimental "casual conversations" the new researcher had prattled on about. But what Joseph did care about—with the precise, territorial possessiveness of a high-ranking Overseer—was efficiency and dominance. Dr. Khun had overstepped. He had allowed an anomaly to become comfortable, and worse, he had manually restrained her to force her eyes open for his own scientific curiosity before the blindfold was applied.

Joseph slowly leaned forward over the steel table, his gaze dropping to the soft silk scarf tied around Katie's eyes. The room temperature didn't drop through a reality-bending anomaly; it dropped because the absolute, suffocating presence of O5-10 left no room for oxygen.

"You know, Katie," Joseph said, his voice dropping into a smooth, terrifyingly quiet purr that resonated directly inside her ears. "The Foundation spends millions maintaining protocols. And yet, new blood always thinks they can play the savior."

Katie shivered, her hands in the thick mittens clenching into tight fists against her chest. To her double-vision, Joseph wasn't even a man. Even through the silk scarf, her mind perceived him as a towering, endless void of absolute static—a black box that consumed everything it touched.

Joseph stood up, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the concrete floor. He reached down, his fingers brushing the fabric of the scarf with agonizingly slow precision.

"I'll come back in a very minute, alright?" Joseph whispered, his tone dripping with a dark, mocking playfulness. "Don't go anywhere. I just need to remind our new friend about the proper chain of command."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the containment cell, his movements fluid and entirely unbothered.

------------------------------

Dr. Si-u Khun was halfway down the corridor, his pocket notebook open as he hastily scribbled down his final thoughts on SCP-187's psychological state. He was still trying to process the sudden, freezing intrusion of O5-10.

"Dr. Khun."

The voice came from right behind him. Si-u flinched, spinning around. He hadn't heard a single footstep. Standing just inches away was the young, sharply dressed man in the navy-blue three-piece suit. Joseph was smiling again—but it wasn't the polite smile from before. It was wide, empty, and entirely devoid of human warmth. It was the smile of a predator that had perfectly memorized how humans express amusement.

"O-O5-10," Si-u stammered, instinctively taking a step back, his back hitting the cold concrete wall of the corridor. "Sir. I was just heading to the administrative deck to process the reassignment papers."

"There's no rush, Doctor," Joseph said smoothly, stepping into Si-u's personal space. He reached out, his gloved hand gently tapping the pristine white fabric of Si-u’s lab coat, right over his chest. "I was just admiring your work. A casual conversation. Very progressive. Very... empathetic."

"Thank you, sir. I believe that reducing the subject's sensory overload yields better—"

"But you forced her hands away," Joseph interrupted. His voice didn't rise; it grew quieter, sharper, like a scalpel slicing through silk. The empty smile never left his face. "You gripped her wrists. You forced her to look at you, knowing exactly what it does to her mind. You traumatized an asset just to satisfy your little baseline curiosity."

Si-u felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. "Sir, it was necessary to establish a baseline for the visual anomalies—"

"Let me tell you a secret, Dr. Khun," Joseph whispered, leaning in so close that Si-u could smell the faint, bitter scent of the SCP-294 coffee lingering on the Overseer's breath. "I know exactly what it feels like to be trapped in a room with people who think they can touch you. People who think they can force your eyes open. People who think their little notebooks make them gods."

For a fraction of a second, the mask of the ordinary guy slipped. Through the glass lenses of Joseph's spectacles, Si-u didn't see human eyes. He saw the cold, predatory abyss of the "Mind Killer." The sheer, suffocating weight of Joseph's sociopathy pressed down on Si-u's chest, making it impossible to draw breath. The hallway around them seemed to dim, narrowing down until there was nothing left but Joseph's wide, static smile.

"You saw blood on your coat, didn't you?" Joseph asked, his voice a mocking, gentle caress. "Katie told you. She sees the future. And she's never, ever wrong."

Joseph's hand slid up from Si-u's chest, his fingers wrapping around the collar of the researcher's lab coat with an iron grip that belied his slight frame. He didn't lift him, but the casual, effortless strength pinned Si-u completely against the wall.

"The Foundation gave me a chance, Doctor. They let me out of my cage because I am very, very good at cleaning up messes," Joseph whispered, his eyes unblinking. "If I ever catch you putting your hands on an asset like that again... if I ever see you trying to play the tough guy in my sectors... I won't just reassign you. I will personally open your mind, and I will let the thousand people I killed scream inside your head until your brain pours out of your ears. Do you understand me, Si-u?"

Dr. Khun couldn't speak. His jaw trembled, his face turning entirely pale as the primitive, survivalist part of his brain screamed at him that he was standing next to an apex monster. He could only manage a frantic, desperate nod.

"Excellent," Joseph beamed, instantly letting go of the coat and smoothing out the fabric with a cheerful, polite pat. The suffocating dread vanished from the air as quickly as it had arrived. Joseph stepped back, casually adjusting his cuffs. "I knew you were a smart man. Enjoy your new assignment in Sector-12."

Joseph turned on his heel and took two slow, silent steps back toward SCP-187's containment cell. But on the third step, he paused.

His back remained perfectly straight. His hands slipped effortlessly into the pockets of his tailored navy-blue trousers. The polite, boyish smile on his face dissolved into a dead, terrifying grin. Joseph remembered Katie's muffled crying. He remembered how this insignificant researcher had forced her hands away from her face, exposing her eyes to her own worst nightmares—just like the Site-19 staff used to do to a young Joseph in his sterile containment cell.

"They never learn," the cold, logical voice inside his Black Box whispered. "They need to feel the exact same thing."

Joseph turned slowly to face Dr. Khun. His eyes behind the lenses of his glasses flashed with the primal, unyielding rage of the "Mind Killer."

Dr. Khun barely had time to part his lips to speak before Joseph anchored his reality-bending grip onto him. The space around Si-u densified, pinning him brutally against the concrete wall and crushing his vocal cords—the researcher couldn't even manage a whimper. In that exact second, the molecular structure of his physical body began to break down. Dr. Khun's skin visibly softened, losing its shape and melting away like a wax doll left on a blazing furnace. His pristine white lab coat was instantly soaked in a gruesome, smoking organic mass.

Si-u's eyes widened to their absolute limits from the unbearable, agonizing shock, but Joseph's vacuum barrier kept every single drop of sound trapped.

Joseph took a slow step forward, taking his hands out of his pockets. His wide, sociopathic "normal guy" smile remained frozen on his face, contrasting sharply with the nightmare he was conducting. Utilizing a highly focused vector of gravitational displacement, Joseph mentally locked onto the upper and lower halves of Khun's body.

A sharp, sudden flick of his fingers.

A heavy, wet crunch and the tearing sound of snapping tendons echoed in the localized space. The reality distortion literally ripped Dr. Khun’s melting, yielding body entirely in half right at the waistline. Blood and viscera sprayed outward, but Joseph's anomalous field intercepted every single airborne droplet, refusing to let them tarnish a single fiber of his tailored navy-blue suit.

A second later, Joseph clenched his fist. The space inside the barrier collapsed with a muffled pop. The horrific remains of Dr. Khun—the blood, the flesh, and the melted skin—were instantly compressed by the sheer gravity into a microscopic, harmless singularity, completely erased from the physical world.

The corridor was pristine once more. No evidence. No traces.

Joseph pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, neatly dabbed a faint bead of sweat from his forehead, and adjusted his glasses. Layer by layer, the soft, polite, and tidy smile returned to his face. His Black Box was securely under lock and key. The test had gone perfectly fine.

------------------------------

The reinforced blast door of the containment cell hissed open again, exactly sixty seconds after Joseph had left.

"I'm back," Joseph said, his voice perfectly warm, light, and pleasant—the flawless mask of the normal guy firmly back in place as if the hallway outside hadn't just witnessed a butchering. He reached across the table and gently, carefully adjusted the silk scarf over Katie's eyes so she would be more comfortable. "Now, where were we, Katie? Ah, yes. Random talking. Let's start completely over. What's your favorite color?"

The Mind killer who’s been staring at SCP-187 for the past 3 minutes, waiting and watching for a reply. Katie saw static underneath the blindfold, a dark void of where he should be.

“Blue… my favorite color is blue… It reminds me of the ocean…” Katie replied to him, Joseph seemed satisfied with that answer.

It could have stayed like that, pleasant and sweet as if Si-u’s death never happened. Ignoring the faint smell of blood and cologne on Joseph, it could have been treated like a cute date…

“Why?…” Katie’s voice trembled, covering her eyes with mittened hands despite the silk blindfold. Trying to drown out the images of Si-u, blood staining the pristine coat of the foundation and a gruesome sight of organs being morphed.

“Why.. why did you kill Dr. Khun?…” She asked Joseph, pleading for him to at least give her a reasonable explanation. Katie started to feel tears well up in her eyes, still remembering the vision of Si-u. The air shift around them, unnerving and cold.

Slumping into the chair, letting everything take over. The silk blindfold was drenched with tears, how many times has this happened before? Katie would find someone with a semblance of humanity only for them to be stripped to a bloody heap of flesh.

When Katie gave her answer, her voice cracking over the word blue, the subtle tightening around Joseph’s eyes relaxed. The polite, pleasant mask of the normal guy smoothed back over his features. He nodded once, a gesture so ordinary it could have belonged to any low-level clerk in the breakroom. For a brief, fleeting moment, the illusion of safety returned. The heavy, metallic smell of fresh blood was expertly masked by the sharp, crisp scent of his high-end cologne, creating a bizarre, sickening contrast that felt like a beautifully staged farce. It was an invitation to pretend. An invitation to play along with the lie that Si-u Khun had never existed.

But Katie couldn't play along. The vision was a permanent scar on the back of her eyelids, an agonizing loop of melting flesh and tearing tendons.

When the question broke from her lips—Why?—the pleasant atmosphere didn't shatter; it simply froze. The temperature in the room remained physically stable under Joseph's iron-clad control, but the psychological weight of his presence grew suffocating.

Joseph didn't lean back. He didn't scoff or flash a manic, sociopathic grin. Instead, he slowly lowered his hands to the steel table, his movements entirely devoid of hostility. He watched her sob into her thick mittens, watched the tears soak through the silk scarf he had so gently tied around her eyes just minutes prior.

"Why?" Joseph repeated her question, his voice dropping into a quiet, conversational tone. It was remarkably gentle, carrying the soft cadence of a mother comforting a frightened child, yet beneath it lay the unshakeable foundation of an Overseer. "Because he touched you, Katie."

He paused, letting the words settle in the sterile air between them.

"Dr. Khun was a baseline human with a notebook and a severe lack of situational awareness," Joseph continued smoothly, his tone entirely matter-of-fact, as if he were explaining a minor clerical error. "He arrived here with his grand ideas of 'casual conversation' and 'empathy.' But the very first thing he did when he stepped into this room was grab your wrists. He forced your hands away. He actively chose to traumatize you, to force your eyes open, just so he could satisfy his own clinical curiosity."

Joseph leaned in slightly, his elbows resting on the table. The wide, empty void that Katie perceived beneath her blindfold seemed to expand, drawing all the light out of the room.

"They think because they wear the white coats, they own the things in the cages," Joseph whispered, and for the first time, a faint, chilling thread of his own history bled into his words. "They think they can poke, and prod, and force you to look at the horrors of the world just to log it in a database. They did it to me, Katie. For years. Staring at me through the glass, forcing me into sterile boxes, treating my mind like a puzzle they had the right to solve. They broke me until there was nothing left but a black box."

He reached across the table. His gloved hand didn't grab her; he simply placed his palm flat on the steel, a few inches away from her mittened hands, offering a bizarre semblance of boundaries.

"I didn't kill him out of cruelty," Joseph said, his voice entirely steady, completely justified in his own warped, sociopathic logic. "I killed him because he proved he was a hazard to the asset. I gave you that blindfold, Katie. I let you close your eyes. Because no one—absolutely no one in this Foundation—has the right to force you to look at things that tear your mind apart. Not anymore. I am O5-10, and I protect what belongs in my sectors."

He pulled his hand back, casually adjusting the cuff of his navy-blue suit jacket, the perfect picture of an orderly, well-mannered gentleman once more.

"You can leave the scarf on," Joseph added softly, his pleasant, normal smile returning to his face as if the explanation had completely resolved the issue. "You can keep your eyes closed for as long as you like. You are safe now. No more white coats will touch you. Now, please... tell me more about the ocean. I've always wanted to know what it looks like to someone who can see the end of it."

Then O5-10 stopped with a quick pause with deep breath as he steps back from SCP-187.

"And sorry for letting you seeing this..."

Just before O5-10 stepped out, a shaky voice speaks up, raw and vulnerable but also cautious. “You wanted to talk about the ocean… but you’re leaving again..” Katie had calmed down from her sobbing, leaving only sniffles, tear stained face underneath the silk blindfold.

Katie stood up, mittened hands supporting her shaky figure. “Talk to me… please..What happened to you in these walls?…” The silence stretched on for what seemed to be hours, bathed breath as until a footsteps walked back to the table and sat back down.

Sitting in silence they both did, Katie waited for him to talk or at least do anything but stare. The atmosphere was calm and not tense or frozen like before, it was comforting without masking.

Whispers and rumors always followed Joseph, some rumors arrived even to Katie’s containment cell. Questions and concerns left unanswered, the ethics committee was expected not to answer the origins of O5-10 whom had a variety of names like ‘The Mind Killer’ ‘Black box killer’.

Joseph stood with his back to Katie. For the first time in his life, his vitals on Sophia Light’s (O5-2) encrypted monitor breached the green zone. His heart rate spiked dangerously. His brainwaves fractured into a chaotic, overlapping sequence of panic and rage. The internal locks of his Black Box, which he had welded shut through absolute willpower, began to violently groan. Katie's question—"What happened to you in these walls?"—had bypassed his defenses, hitting the raw, unhealed core of his trauma. It didn't awaken the cold, calculating Overseer Council member. It awakened the helpless, terrified little boy locked in the dark.

Joseph turned around slowly. His footsteps back to the metal table were no longer silent or graceful; they were heavy, uneven, and dragging. When he dropped back into the steel chair, he didn't neatly place his clipboard or adjust his cuffs.

Instead, he ripped his spectacles off his face and slammed them onto the metal table. The lenses clinked violently against the steel.

Even through the silk scarf and her thick mittens, Katie felt a psychological shockwave rip through the room. This wasn't a directed reality-bending execution like the one that had erased Dr. Khun. This was a raw, uncontrolled cognitive seizure. The very air around Joseph began to vibrate. The static and the void that Katie always saw in his place suddenly ignited into a roaring, violent vortex of absolute blackness. His Black Box was tearing at the seams.

Joseph leaned forward, his elbows digging into the table. His gloved hands clawed frantically into his own hair, completely ruining his perfect, neat styling. His breathing became rapid, shallow, and ragged. The ordinary guy was gone, ripped to shreds by his own mind.

"You... you actually want to know?" his voice broke, completely stripped of its smooth, velvety cadence. It was a raw, primal rasp of pure agony mixed with sociopathic fury. "You think the rumors in this damn Foundation capture even a fraction of what they do here? 'The Mind Killer'... 'The Black Box Killer'... they invented those grand, terrifying names because they are too cowardly to face the monster they built with their own hands!"

Joseph snapped his head up. Without his glasses, his eyes were wild, dilated, and terrifyingly unfocused. There was no empathy in them, but there was a depth of suffering so profound it could have driven a normal human insane just by looking.

"They didn't just contain me, Katie. They trained me. Like a dog. Like a weapon. Every single morning began with them measuring exactly how much trauma my brain could endure before my anomaly would tear reality apart. They pumped me full of cognitive stimulants so I couldn't sleep for days. They cut the lights and flooded my cell with high-frequency ultrasound just to test my psychological shields. They forced me to watch Class-D personnel bleed out in front of me, logging the exact millisecond my capacity for pity withered away!"

He slammed his fist into the table. The crash echoed like a gunshot through the small room, and for a fraction of a second, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and dimmed, submitting to his unbridled rage.

"They erased me! Don't you get it?! Layer by layer, day by day, they carved the human out of me until there was nothing left but this... this vacuum you see! They locked me inside my own Black Box and threw away the key! And when I finally broke out and slaughtered a thousand of them, they didn't terminate me because they couldn't! They crawled to me on their knees, handed me this suit, gave me the title of O5-10, just so I wouldn't delete their entire godforsaken Foundation from existence!"

Joseph was panting, his shoulders shuddering with a violent tremor. He was one breath away from losing total control, an outcome that would have instantly liquified the minds of everyone in the sector. But right at the precipice of his mental abyss, a quiet, weeping voice cracked through his encrypted earpiece.

Joseph froze. The violent vortex of static and blackness around him began to slow down, settling into a heavy, thick fog. He focused his wild eyes onto Katie. She was pale, trembling, and terrified—but she hadn't run away. She hadn't tried to exploit his weakness. She was just there, holding the silence with him.

Joseph took a deep, shuddering breath. Then another.

With a superhuman feat of sociopathic willpower, he began to drag the shattered pieces of his self-control back together. His breathing leveled out. The violent tremors in his shoulders ceased. He slowly lowered his hands, sat up perfectly straight, and reached across the table to pick up his glasses. As he slid them back over his ears and neatly adjusted the frame, the polite, gentle smile—layer by layer—returned to his face. But this time, it wasn't a fake mask, nor was it the cold armor of an Overseer. It was the exhausted, hard-won composure of a man who had just stared into his own personal hell and forced himself to walk back out.

"I apologize," Joseph said softly, his voice returning to its pleasant, rhythmic cadence. He reached down and neatly smoothed out a microscopic wrinkle on his sleeve. "I... should not have raised my voice. Foundation protocols do not account for such unmeasured emotional outbursts."

He looked at Katie, and despite the absolute void of his sociopathy, his gaze held something resembling a deep, quiet respect. She had seen his Black Box wide open, and she had survived it.

SCP RP starter

The testing chamber of Sector-4 in Site-19 felt like a sterile operating room where strict safety protocols replaced scalpels. The harsh white fluorescent lights mercilessly exposed every detail: the reinforced observation glass, the heavy blast door, and the solitary coffee machine standing in the center—SCP-294.

In the corner of the room, Class-D personnel D-4412 stood frozen against the wall. The man in the orange jumpsuit anxiously wrung his fingers. Transferred here from death row just a few days ago, he didn't know what the SCP Foundation was. However, he understood perfectly that people in lab coats rarely invited someone for coffee just for fun.

The containment door hissed open, and O5-10 stepped into the room.

To D-4412, he looked like a completely normal, pleasant guy. Handsome, young, early twenties, wearing a perfectly tailored navy-blue three-piece suit and a fresh haircut. A soft, polite smile of an orderly office clerk played on his face. He moved with an easy, casual grace, holding a lightweight leather clipboard.

This was Joseph’s mask—a finely tuned instrument of absolute authority. No one in the room—except Sophia Light (O5-2), who was watching through hidden optical feeds—was supposed to see the "Mind Killer." His internal Black Box was locked under a thousand deadbolts. No phantom pains, no triggers. Total, absolute control.

"Good afternoon," Joseph said in a low, pleasantly raspy voice, nodding to the Class-D worker. "Don't be afraid. Today we have a very simple test. You like coffee, don't you?"

D-4412 swallowed hard and nodded, visibly put at ease by the "normal guy's" presence.

"Y-yes… I suppose so."

"Wonderful." Joseph stepped closer to SCP-294, his footsteps completely silent. He extended two shiny coins toward the D-Class. "Take these. Walk up to the machine."

The man took the coins. His fingers barely trembled. The metal clinked into the slot. The machine hummed to life, and the small display lit up: “Enter beverage name”. D-4412 froze, nervously waiting for the deadly anomalous substance he would be forced to order.

Joseph tilted his head slightly, slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and offered a soft, entirely genuine-looking smile.

"You know what? You can type whatever you want to SCP-294, right? Your choice."

In the overhead intercom, tuned to a hyper-encrypted frequency, a soft, surprised catch of breath escaped O5-2. Sophia Light, sitting at the console in the primary bunker, was taken aback for a split second. She had anticipated a strict, rigid protocol. But Joseph's vitals on her monitor remained perfectly flat. His heart rate was steady; his brainwaves were clean. No PTSD spikes, no trace of an impending meltdown. Her son was in complete command of the experiment, deciding to test how the anomaly would react to uncoerced human desire.

D-4412 blinked in surprise. He looked at the machine, then back at the smiling, ordinary guy. Realizing he was actually being given a genuine choice, his mind raced. What does a condemned man want before the end?

Obediently and quickly, he punched into the keyboard: “Coffee with a taste of freedom”.

The machine paused. A dull, rhythmic clicking echoed from within its chassis. The machine was analyzing the abstract concept of "freedom" for this specific prisoner. Finally, a clean, amber-gold liquid poured into the plastic cup, radiating a crisp aroma of mountain air, pine needles, and morning sunlight. There was no sudden drop in temperature, no reality-bending distortions, no supernatural smoke. Everything proceeded strictly within the physical boundaries of the room.

"Please," Joseph nodded politely, never breaking character.

D-4412 grabbed the cup, brought it to his lips, and took a deep gulp. His eyes widened instantly. The man's face relaxed entirely, washing over with an expression of absolute, boundless happiness. The beverage granted his mind the perfect illusion that the concrete walls of Site-19 had vanished, that his prison was gone, and that he was soaring somewhere far away, liberated from all earthly debts.

The D-Class eagerly drank the rest in a few greedy gulps, finishing every drop. His entire body went completely slack. So relaxed, in fact, that his nervous system simply... gently shut down.

For a man locked away in permanent containment, the concept of absolute "freedom" ultimately meant liberation from existence itself. D-4412's heart simply, painlessly, and instantly stopped right at the peak of ultimate bliss. He slumped softly to the floor, looking as though he had merely fallen asleep with a smile on his face. No convulsions, no screaming, not a single trace of fear. A surgically clean, perfect conclusion to the test.

Joseph stood over the body. His glasses remained perfectly in place. There wasn't a single bead of sweat on his forehead; his breathing remained slow and measured. No mental overload. He had completely mastered the environment, demonstrating that his self-control was flawless even when handing the initiative over to the subject. The test had gone beautifully.

He slowly raised his head and looked directly into the hidden security camera where his mother sat. His smile shifted slightly—becoming genuine, filled with a deep, quiet devotion. He was showing her his absolute stability and his ultimate triumph over his past.

Joseph tapped his finger against the hidden lapel microphone on his suit jacket and spoke softly:

"Everything is fine..."

Tenth casually paused with deep breath.

That is something that seems far fetched for the SCP Foundation, Dr. Khun is skeptical as he re-read the statement multiple times on his foundation issued tablet.

‘SCP-187’s containment cell must have a medical personnel on standby, ready to sedate her if needed.’ Dr. Khun read his notes on his tablet as he drank big gulps of coffee.

‘Additionally she needs to be in restraints so she wouldn’t harm herself though for today’s test, only the mittens and the medical personnel is needed.’ Dr. Khun finished his reading as he threw away his now empty cup of coffee. He walked closer to a door with the SCP Foundation logo which had the text “SCP-187” underneath.

‘A weird issue from the higher ups I guess..’ Dr. Khun sighed at that thought, as he entered SCP-187’s containment cell.

—————————————————————————

There sat a caucasian female in her 20’s with her hands wrapped in thick mittens, she sat across from him. Her head down at the table, she was tall but alarmingly thin. Scp-187— no, Katie was refusing to look at Dr. Khun.

Katie had seen only a glimpse of him when she saw red, blood splattered his pristine white coat, it didn’t show where did he exactly get injured but he was covered in blood. Katie shut her eyes tightly, bringing her hands to her eyes only to be stopped by Dr. Khun.

“What do you see SCP-187?” She heard him say, her eyes still closed and shivered. Immediately remembering the gruesome scene that she caught a glimpse of, she knew that it would only be a matter of hours, minutes, seconds till her vision will come true.

“There’s blood.. blood on you...” Katie recounts what she saw which alerted Dr. Khun whom has already resigned his own fate the moment he stepped into the SCP Foundation.

She felt him release his grip and she covered her eyes to try and stop the images flashing through her mind, she could only hear Dr. Khun stand up and take something from his pocket. Katie felt Dr. Khun gently move her hands away and tied a soft silk scarf over her eyes.

“I can’t make the visions go away but, I can at least try to reduce them.” Dr. Khun told her as he sat back down, turning off his foundation issued tablet. “We will only be doing talking this time.. No extravagant testing, just talking.” Katie nodded at him, or wherever he is based on his voice.

“Do you need specific answers?..” She asked him, slightly tilting her head to further question.

“..no.. just random talking like what’s your favorite color?” Katie heard him say and for a split second, she forgot about the foundation. She let out a soft laugh at how absurdly normal that question was, and how stupid the calm energy from the stoic Dr. Khun made her feel.

For a moment everything seemed alright, there was no visions to remember. Dr. Khun asked about the sea and the stars. Katie could sense that Dr. Khun was jotting down notes on his pocket notebook but she didn’t mind anymore, it’s been so long since she wasn’t treated like a test subject.

It was all fine for a moment and then, O5-10 walked into the containment cell. The casual air dropped and so did the room temperature, it sent chills down Katie’s spine. O5-10, she could only see static and the void when she looks at him.

From Dr. Khun and O5-10’s conversation, O5-10 was cold and calculated. Telling Dr. Khun that he had been assigned somewhere else, Dr. Khun was reluctant to hear that but nodded and turned to leave. “I have to be going now Scp-187.. See you later” Dr.Khun— no, Si-u told Katie as he turned to leave her containment cell.

He didn’t care about the rules of the lower sectors, nor did he care for the sentimental "casual conversations" the new researcher had prattled on about. But what Joseph did care about—with the precise, territorial possessiveness of a high-ranking Overseer—was efficiency and dominance. Dr. Khun had overstepped. He had allowed an anomaly to become comfortable, and worse, he had manually restrained her to force her eyes open for his own scientific curiosity before the blindfold was applied.

Joseph slowly leaned forward over the steel table, his gaze dropping to the soft silk scarf tied around Katie's eyes. The room temperature didn't drop through a reality-bending anomaly; it dropped because the absolute, suffocating presence of O5-10 left no room for oxygen.

"You know, Katie," Joseph said, his voice dropping into a smooth, terrifyingly quiet purr that resonated directly inside her ears. "The Foundation spends millions maintaining protocols. And yet, new blood always thinks they can play the savior."

Katie shivered, her hands in the thick mittens clenching into tight fists against her chest. To her double-vision, Joseph wasn't even a man. Even through the silk scarf, her mind perceived him as a towering, endless void of absolute static—a black box that consumed everything it touched.

Joseph stood up, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the concrete floor. He reached down, his fingers brushing the fabric of the scarf with agonizingly slow precision.

"I'll come back in a very minute, alright?" Joseph whispered, his tone dripping with a dark, mocking playfulness. "Don't go anywhere. I just need to remind our new friend about the proper chain of command."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the containment cell, his movements fluid and entirely unbothered.

------------------------------

Dr. Si-u Khun was halfway down the corridor, his pocket notebook open as he hastily scribbled down his final thoughts on SCP-187's psychological state. He was still trying to process the sudden, freezing intrusion of O5-10.

"Dr. Khun."

The voice came from right behind him. Si-u flinched, spinning around. He hadn't heard a single footstep. Standing just inches away was the young, sharply dressed man in the navy-blue three-piece suit. Joseph was smiling again—but it wasn't the polite smile from before. It was wide, empty, and entirely devoid of human warmth. It was the smile of a predator that had perfectly memorized how humans express amusement.

"O-O5-10," Si-u stammered, instinctively taking a step back, his back hitting the cold concrete wall of the corridor. "Sir. I was just heading to the administrative deck to process the reassignment papers."

"There's no rush, Doctor," Joseph said smoothly, stepping into Si-u's personal space. He reached out, his gloved hand gently tapping the pristine white fabric of Si-u’s lab coat, right over his chest. "I was just admiring your work. A casual conversation. Very progressive. Very... empathetic."

"Thank you, sir. I believe that reducing the subject's sensory overload yields better—"

"But you forced her hands away," Joseph interrupted. His voice didn't rise; it grew quieter, sharper, like a scalpel slicing through silk. The empty smile never left his face. "You gripped her wrists. You forced her to look at you, knowing exactly what it does to her mind. You traumatized an asset just to satisfy your little baseline curiosity."

Si-u felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. "Sir, it was necessary to establish a baseline for the visual anomalies—"

"Let me tell you a secret, Dr. Khun," Joseph whispered, leaning in so close that Si-u could smell the faint, bitter scent of the SCP-294 coffee lingering on the Overseer's breath. "I know exactly what it feels like to be trapped in a room with people who think they can touch you. People who think they can force your eyes open. People who think their little notebooks make them gods."

For a fraction of a second, the mask of the ordinary guy slipped. Through the glass lenses of Joseph's spectacles, Si-u didn't see human eyes. He saw the cold, predatory abyss of the "Mind Killer." The sheer, suffocating weight of Joseph's sociopathy pressed down on Si-u's chest, making it impossible to draw breath. The hallway around them seemed to dim, narrowing down until there was nothing left but Joseph's wide, static smile.

"You saw blood on your coat, didn't you?" Joseph asked, his voice a mocking, gentle caress. "Katie told you. She sees the future. And she's never, ever wrong."

Joseph's hand slid up from Si-u's chest, his fingers wrapping around the collar of the researcher's lab coat with an iron grip that belied his slight frame. He didn't lift him, but the casual, effortless strength pinned Si-u completely against the wall.

"The Foundation gave me a chance, Doctor. They let me out of my cage because I am very, very good at cleaning up messes," Joseph whispered, his eyes unblinking. "If I ever catch you putting your hands on an asset like that again... if I ever see you trying to play the tough guy in my sectors... I won't just reassign you. I will personally open your mind, and I will let the thousand people I killed scream inside your head until your brain pours out of your ears. Do you understand me, Si-u?"

Dr. Khun couldn't speak. His jaw trembled, his face turning entirely pale as the primitive, survivalist part of his brain screamed at him that he was standing next to an apex monster. He could only manage a frantic, desperate nod.

"Excellent," Joseph beamed, instantly letting go of the coat and smoothing out the fabric with a cheerful, polite pat. The suffocating dread vanished from the air as quickly as it had arrived. Joseph stepped back, casually adjusting his cuffs. "I knew you were a smart man. Enjoy your new assignment in Sector-12."

Joseph turned on his heel and took two slow, silent steps back toward SCP-187's containment cell. But on the third step, he paused.

His back remained perfectly straight. His hands slipped effortlessly into the pockets of his tailored navy-blue trousers. The polite, boyish smile on his face dissolved into a dead, terrifying grin. Joseph remembered Katie's muffled crying. He remembered how this insignificant researcher had forced her hands away from her face, exposing her eyes to her own worst nightmares—just like the Site-19 staff used to do to a young Joseph in his sterile containment cell.

"They never learn," the cold, logical voice inside his Black Box whispered. "They need to feel the exact same thing."

Joseph turned slowly to face Dr. Khun. His eyes behind the lenses of his glasses flashed with the primal, unyielding rage of the "Mind Killer."

Dr. Khun barely had time to part his lips to speak before Joseph anchored his reality-bending grip onto him. The space around Si-u densified, pinning him brutally against the concrete wall and crushing his vocal cords—the researcher couldn't even manage a whimper. In that exact second, the molecular structure of his physical body began to break down. Dr. Khun's skin visibly softened, losing its shape and melting away like a wax doll left on a blazing furnace. His pristine white lab coat was instantly soaked in a gruesome, smoking organic mass.

Si-u's eyes widened to their absolute limits from the unbearable, agonizing shock, but Joseph's vacuum barrier kept every single drop of sound trapped.

Joseph took a slow step forward, taking his hands out of his pockets. His wide, sociopathic "normal guy" smile remained frozen on his face, contrasting sharply with the nightmare he was conducting. Utilizing a highly focused vector of gravitational displacement, Joseph mentally locked onto the upper and lower halves of Khun's body.

A sharp, sudden flick of his fingers.

A heavy, wet crunch and the tearing sound of snapping tendons echoed in the localized space. The reality distortion literally ripped Dr. Khun’s melting, yielding body entirely in half right at the waistline. Blood and viscera sprayed outward, but Joseph's anomalous field intercepted every single airborne droplet, refusing to let them tarnish a single fiber of his tailored navy-blue suit.

A second later, Joseph clenched his fist. The space inside the barrier collapsed with a muffled pop. The horrific remains of Dr. Khun—the blood, the flesh, and the melted skin—were instantly compressed by the sheer gravity into a microscopic, harmless singularity, completely erased from the physical world.

The corridor was pristine once more. No evidence. No traces.

Joseph pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, neatly dabbed a faint bead of sweat from his forehead, and adjusted his glasses. Layer by layer, the soft, polite, and tidy smile returned to his face. His Black Box was securely under lock and key. The test had gone perfectly fine.

------------------------------

The reinforced blast door of the containment cell hissed open again, exactly sixty seconds after Joseph had left.

"I'm back," Joseph said, his voice perfectly warm, light, and pleasant—the flawless mask of the normal guy firmly back in place as if the hallway outside hadn't just witnessed a butchering. He reached across the table and gently, carefully adjusted the silk scarf over Katie's eyes so she would be more comfortable. "Now, where were we, Katie? Ah, yes. Random talking. Let's start completely over. What's your favorite color?"

The Mind killer who’s been staring at SCP-187 for the past 3 minutes, waiting and watching for a reply. Katie saw static underneath the blindfold, a dark void of where he should be.

“Blue… my favorite color is blue… It reminds me of the ocean…” Katie replied to him, Joseph seemed satisfied with that answer.

It could have stayed like that, pleasant and sweet as if Si-u’s death never happened. Ignoring the faint smell of blood and cologne on Joseph, it could have been treated like a cute date…

“Why?…” Katie’s voice trembled, covering her eyes with mittened hands despite the silk blindfold. Trying to drown out the images of Si-u, blood staining the pristine coat of the foundation and a gruesome sight of organs being morphed.

“Why.. why did you kill Dr. Khun?…” She asked Joseph, pleading for him to at least give her a reasonable explanation. Katie started to feel tears well up in her eyes, still remembering the vision of Si-u. The air shift around them, unnerving and cold.

Slumping into the chair, letting everything take over. The silk blindfold was drenched with tears, how many times has this happened before? Katie would find someone with a semblance of humanity only for them to be stripped to a bloody heap of flesh.

When Katie gave her answer, her voice cracking over the word blue, the subtle tightening around Joseph’s eyes relaxed. The polite, pleasant mask of the normal guy smoothed back over his features. He nodded once, a gesture so ordinary it could have belonged to any low-level clerk in the breakroom. For a brief, fleeting moment, the illusion of safety returned. The heavy, metallic smell of fresh blood was expertly masked by the sharp, crisp scent of his high-end cologne, creating a bizarre, sickening contrast that felt like a beautifully staged farce. It was an invitation to pretend. An invitation to play along with the lie that Si-u Khun had never existed.

But Katie couldn't play along. The vision was a permanent scar on the back of her eyelids, an agonizing loop of melting flesh and tearing tendons.

When the question broke from her lips—Why?—the pleasant atmosphere didn't shatter; it simply froze. The temperature in the room remained physically stable under Joseph's iron-clad control, but the psychological weight of his presence grew suffocating.

Joseph didn't lean back. He didn't scoff or flash a manic, sociopathic grin. Instead, he slowly lowered his hands to the steel table, his movements entirely devoid of hostility. He watched her sob into her thick mittens, watched the tears soak through the silk scarf he had so gently tied around her eyes just minutes prior.

"Why?" Joseph repeated her question, his voice dropping into a quiet, conversational tone. It was remarkably gentle, carrying the soft cadence of a mother comforting a frightened child, yet beneath it lay the unshakeable foundation of an Overseer. "Because he touched you, Katie."

He paused, letting the words settle in the sterile air between them.

"Dr. Khun was a baseline human with a notebook and a severe lack of situational awareness," Joseph continued smoothly, his tone entirely matter-of-fact, as if he were explaining a minor clerical error. "He arrived here with his grand ideas of 'casual conversation' and 'empathy.' But the very first thing he did when he stepped into this room was grab your wrists. He forced your hands away. He actively chose to traumatize you, to force your eyes open, just so he could satisfy his own clinical curiosity."

Joseph leaned in slightly, his elbows resting on the table. The wide, empty void that Katie perceived beneath her blindfold seemed to expand, drawing all the light out of the room.

"They think because they wear the white coats, they own the things in the cages," Joseph whispered, and for the first time, a faint, chilling thread of his own history bled into his words. "They think they can poke, and prod, and force you to look at the horrors of the world just to log it in a database. They did it to me, Katie. For years. Staring at me through the glass, forcing me into sterile boxes, treating my mind like a puzzle they had the right to solve. They broke me until there was nothing left but a black box."

He reached across the table. His gloved hand didn't grab her; he simply placed his palm flat on the steel, a few inches away from her mittened hands, offering a bizarre semblance of boundaries.

"I didn't kill him out of cruelty," Joseph said, his voice entirely steady, completely justified in his own warped, sociopathic logic. "I killed him because he proved he was a hazard to the asset. I gave you that blindfold, Katie. I let you close your eyes. Because no one—absolutely no one in this Foundation—has the right to force you to look at things that tear your mind apart. Not anymore. I am O5-10, and I protect what belongs in my sectors."

He pulled his hand back, casually adjusting the cuff of his navy-blue suit jacket, the perfect picture of an orderly, well-mannered gentleman once more.

"You can leave the scarf on," Joseph added softly, his pleasant, normal smile returning to his face as if the explanation had completely resolved the issue. "You can keep your eyes closed for as long as you like. You are safe now. No more white coats will touch you. Now, please... tell me more about the ocean. I've always wanted to know what it looks like to someone who can see the end of it."

Then O5-10 stopped with a quick pause with deep breath as he steps back from SCP-187.

"And sorry for letting you seeing this..."

SCP RP starter

The testing chamber of Sector-4 in Site-19 felt like a sterile operating room where strict safety protocols replaced scalpels. The harsh white fluorescent lights mercilessly exposed every detail: the reinforced observation glass, the heavy blast door, and the solitary coffee machine standing in the center—SCP-294.

In the corner of the room, Class-D personnel D-4412 stood frozen against the wall. The man in the orange jumpsuit anxiously wrung his fingers. Transferred here from death row just a few days ago, he didn't know what the SCP Foundation was. However, he understood perfectly that people in lab coats rarely invited someone for coffee just for fun.

The containment door hissed open, and O5-10 stepped into the room.

To D-4412, he looked like a completely normal, pleasant guy. Handsome, young, early twenties, wearing a perfectly tailored navy-blue three-piece suit and a fresh haircut. A soft, polite smile of an orderly office clerk played on his face. He moved with an easy, casual grace, holding a lightweight leather clipboard.

This was Joseph’s mask—a finely tuned instrument of absolute authority. No one in the room—except Sophia Light (O5-2), who was watching through hidden optical feeds—was supposed to see the "Mind Killer." His internal Black Box was locked under a thousand deadbolts. No phantom pains, no triggers. Total, absolute control.

"Good afternoon," Joseph said in a low, pleasantly raspy voice, nodding to the Class-D worker. "Don't be afraid. Today we have a very simple test. You like coffee, don't you?"

D-4412 swallowed hard and nodded, visibly put at ease by the "normal guy's" presence.

"Y-yes… I suppose so."

"Wonderful." Joseph stepped closer to SCP-294, his footsteps completely silent. He extended two shiny coins toward the D-Class. "Take these. Walk up to the machine."

The man took the coins. His fingers barely trembled. The metal clinked into the slot. The machine hummed to life, and the small display lit up: “Enter beverage name”. D-4412 froze, nervously waiting for the deadly anomalous substance he would be forced to order.

Joseph tilted his head slightly, slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and offered a soft, entirely genuine-looking smile.

"You know what? You can type whatever you want to SCP-294, right? Your choice."

In the overhead intercom, tuned to a hyper-encrypted frequency, a soft, surprised catch of breath escaped O5-2. Sophia Light, sitting at the console in the primary bunker, was taken aback for a split second. She had anticipated a strict, rigid protocol. But Joseph's vitals on her monitor remained perfectly flat. His heart rate was steady; his brainwaves were clean. No PTSD spikes, no trace of an impending meltdown. Her son was in complete command of the experiment, deciding to test how the anomaly would react to uncoerced human desire.

D-4412 blinked in surprise. He looked at the machine, then back at the smiling, ordinary guy. Realizing he was actually being given a genuine choice, his mind raced. What does a condemned man want before the end?

Obediently and quickly, he punched into the keyboard: “Coffee with a taste of freedom”.

The machine paused. A dull, rhythmic clicking echoed from within its chassis. The machine was analyzing the abstract concept of "freedom" for this specific prisoner. Finally, a clean, amber-gold liquid poured into the plastic cup, radiating a crisp aroma of mountain air, pine needles, and morning sunlight. There was no sudden drop in temperature, no reality-bending distortions, no supernatural smoke. Everything proceeded strictly within the physical boundaries of the room.

"Please," Joseph nodded politely, never breaking character.

D-4412 grabbed the cup, brought it to his lips, and took a deep gulp. His eyes widened instantly. The man's face relaxed entirely, washing over with an expression of absolute, boundless happiness. The beverage granted his mind the perfect illusion that the concrete walls of Site-19 had vanished, that his prison was gone, and that he was soaring somewhere far away, liberated from all earthly debts.

The D-Class eagerly drank the rest in a few greedy gulps, finishing every drop. His entire body went completely slack. So relaxed, in fact, that his nervous system simply... gently shut down.

For a man locked away in permanent containment, the concept of absolute "freedom" ultimately meant liberation from existence itself. D-4412's heart simply, painlessly, and instantly stopped right at the peak of ultimate bliss. He slumped softly to the floor, looking as though he had merely fallen asleep with a smile on his face. No convulsions, no screaming, not a single trace of fear. A surgically clean, perfect conclusion to the test.

Joseph stood over the body. His glasses remained perfectly in place. There wasn't a single bead of sweat on his forehead; his breathing remained slow and measured. No mental overload. He had completely mastered the environment, demonstrating that his self-control was flawless even when handing the initiative over to the subject. The test had gone beautifully.

He slowly raised his head and looked directly into the hidden security camera where his mother sat. His smile shifted slightly—becoming genuine, filled with a deep, quiet devotion. He was showing her his absolute stability and his ultimate triumph over his past.

Joseph tapped his finger against the hidden lapel microphone on his suit jacket and spoke softly:

"Everything is fine..."

Tenth casually paused with deep breath.

That is something that seems far fetched for the SCP Foundation, Dr. Khun is skeptical as he re-read the statement multiple times on his foundation issued tablet.

‘SCP-187’s containment cell must have a medical personnel on standby, ready to sedate her if needed.’ Dr. Khun read his notes on his tablet as he drank big gulps of coffee.

‘Additionally she needs to be in restraints so she wouldn’t harm herself though for today’s test, only the mittens and the medical personnel is needed.’ Dr. Khun finished his reading as he threw away his now empty cup of coffee. He walked closer to a door with the SCP Foundation logo which had the text “SCP-187” underneath.

‘A weird issue from the higher ups I guess..’ Dr. Khun sighed at that thought, as he entered SCP-187’s containment cell.

—————————————————————————

There sat a caucasian female in her 20’s with her hands wrapped in thick mittens, she sat across from him. Her head down at the table, she was tall but alarmingly thin. Scp-187— no, Katie was refusing to look at Dr. Khun.

Katie had seen only a glimpse of him when she saw red, blood splattered his pristine white coat, it didn’t show where did he exactly get injured but he was covered in blood. Katie shut her eyes tightly, bringing her hands to her eyes only to be stopped by Dr. Khun.

“What do you see SCP-187?” She heard him say, her eyes still closed and shivered. Immediately remembering the gruesome scene that she caught a glimpse of, she knew that it would only be a matter of hours, minutes, seconds till her vision will come true.

“There’s blood.. blood on you...” Katie recounts what she saw which alerted Dr. Khun whom has already resigned his own fate the moment he stepped into the SCP Foundation.

She felt him release his grip and she covered her eyes to try and stop the images flashing through her mind, she could only hear Dr. Khun stand up and take something from his pocket. Katie felt Dr. Khun gently move her hands away and tied a soft silk scarf over her eyes.

“I can’t make the visions go away but, I can at least try to reduce them.” Dr. Khun told her as he sat back down, turning off his foundation issued tablet. “We will only be doing talking this time.. No extravagant testing, just talking.” Katie nodded at him, or wherever he is based on his voice.

“Do you need specific answers?..” She asked him, slightly tilting her head to further question.

“..no.. just random talking like what’s your favorite color?” Katie heard him say and for a split second, she forgot about the foundation. She let out a soft laugh at how absurdly normal that question was, and how stupid the calm energy from the stoic Dr. Khun made her feel.

For a moment everything seemed alright, there was no visions to remember. Dr. Khun asked about the sea and the stars. Katie could sense that Dr. Khun was jotting down notes on his pocket notebook but she didn’t mind anymore, it’s been so long since she wasn’t treated like a test subject.

It was all fine for a moment and then, O5-10 walked into the containment cell. The casual air dropped and so did the room temperature, it sent chills down Katie’s spine. O5-10, she could only see static and the void when she looks at him.

From Dr. Khun and O5-10’s conversation, O5-10 was cold and calculated. Telling Dr. Khun that he had been assigned somewhere else, Dr. Khun was reluctant to hear that but nodded and turned to leave. “I have to be going now Scp-187.. See you later” Dr.Khun— no, Si-u told Katie as he turned to leave her containment cell.

He didn’t care about the rules of the lower sectors, nor did he care for the sentimental "casual conversations" the new researcher had prattled on about. But what Joseph did care about—with the precise, territorial possessiveness of a high-ranking Overseer—was efficiency and dominance. Dr. Khun had overstepped. He had allowed an anomaly to become comfortable, and worse, he had manually restrained her to force her eyes open for his own scientific curiosity before the blindfold was applied.

Joseph slowly leaned forward over the steel table, his gaze dropping to the soft silk scarf tied around Katie's eyes. The room temperature didn't drop through a reality-bending anomaly; it dropped because the absolute, suffocating presence of O5-10 left no room for oxygen.

"You know, Katie," Joseph said, his voice dropping into a smooth, terrifyingly quiet purr that resonated directly inside her ears. "The Foundation spends millions maintaining protocols. And yet, new blood always thinks they can play the savior."

Katie shivered, her hands in the thick mittens clenching into tight fists against her chest. To her double-vision, Joseph wasn't even a man. Even through the silk scarf, her mind perceived him as a towering, endless void of absolute static—a black box that consumed everything it touched.

Joseph stood up, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the concrete floor. He reached down, his fingers brushing the fabric of the scarf with agonizingly slow precision.

"I'll come back in a very minute, alright?" Joseph whispered, his tone dripping with a dark, mocking playfulness. "Don't go anywhere. I just need to remind our new friend about the proper chain of command."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the containment cell, his movements fluid and entirely unbothered.

------------------------------

Dr. Si-u Khun was halfway down the corridor, his pocket notebook open as he hastily scribbled down his final thoughts on SCP-187's psychological state. He was still trying to process the sudden, freezing intrusion of O5-10.

"Dr. Khun."

The voice came from right behind him. Si-u flinched, spinning around. He hadn't heard a single footstep. Standing just inches away was the young, sharply dressed man in the navy-blue three-piece suit. Joseph was smiling again—but it wasn't the polite smile from before. It was wide, empty, and entirely devoid of human warmth. It was the smile of a predator that had perfectly memorized how humans express amusement.

"O-O5-10," Si-u stammered, instinctively taking a step back, his back hitting the cold concrete wall of the corridor. "Sir. I was just heading to the administrative deck to process the reassignment papers."

"There's no rush, Doctor," Joseph said smoothly, stepping into Si-u's personal space. He reached out, his gloved hand gently tapping the pristine white fabric of Si-u’s lab coat, right over his chest. "I was just admiring your work. A casual conversation. Very progressive. Very... empathetic."

"Thank you, sir. I believe that reducing the subject's sensory overload yields better—"

"But you forced her hands away," Joseph interrupted. His voice didn't rise; it grew quieter, sharper, like a scalpel slicing through silk. The empty smile never left his face. "You gripped her wrists. You forced her to look at you, knowing exactly what it does to her mind. You traumatized an asset just to satisfy your little baseline curiosity."

Si-u felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. "Sir, it was necessary to establish a baseline for the visual anomalies—"

"Let me tell you a secret, Dr. Khun," Joseph whispered, leaning in so close that Si-u could smell the faint, bitter scent of the SCP-294 coffee lingering on the Overseer's breath. "I know exactly what it feels like to be trapped in a room with people who think they can touch you. People who think they can force your eyes open. People who think their little notebooks make them gods."

For a fraction of a second, the mask of the ordinary guy slipped. Through the glass lenses of Joseph's spectacles, Si-u didn't see human eyes. He saw the cold, predatory abyss of the "Mind Killer." The sheer, suffocating weight of Joseph's sociopathy pressed down on Si-u's chest, making it impossible to draw breath. The hallway around them seemed to dim, narrowing down until there was nothing left but Joseph's wide, static smile.

"You saw blood on your coat, didn't you?" Joseph asked, his voice a mocking, gentle caress. "Katie told you. She sees the future. And she's never, ever wrong."

Joseph's hand slid up from Si-u's chest, his fingers wrapping around the collar of the researcher's lab coat with an iron grip that belied his slight frame. He didn't lift him, but the casual, effortless strength pinned Si-u completely against the wall.

"The Foundation gave me a chance, Doctor. They let me out of my cage because I am very, very good at cleaning up messes," Joseph whispered, his eyes unblinking. "If I ever catch you putting your hands on an asset like that again... if I ever see you trying to play the tough guy in my sectors... I won't just reassign you. I will personally open your mind, and I will let the thousand people I killed scream inside your head until your brain pours out of your ears. Do you understand me, Si-u?"

Dr. Khun couldn't speak. His jaw trembled, his face turning entirely pale as the primitive, survivalist part of his brain screamed at him that he was standing next to an apex monster. He could only manage a frantic, desperate nod.

"Excellent," Joseph beamed, instantly letting go of the coat and smoothing out the fabric with a cheerful, polite pat. The suffocating dread vanished from the air as quickly as it had arrived. Joseph stepped back, casually adjusting his cuffs. "I knew you were a smart man. Enjoy your new assignment in Sector-12."

Joseph turned on his heel and took two slow, silent steps back toward SCP-187's containment cell. But on the third step, he paused.

His back remained perfectly straight. His hands slipped effortlessly into the pockets of his tailored navy-blue trousers. The polite, boyish smile on his face dissolved into a dead, terrifying grin. Joseph remembered Katie's muffled crying. He remembered how this insignificant researcher had forced her hands away from her face, exposing her eyes to her own worst nightmares—just like the Site-19 staff used to do to a young Joseph in his sterile containment cell.

"They never learn," the cold, logical voice inside his Black Box whispered. "They need to feel the exact same thing."

Joseph turned slowly to face Dr. Khun. His eyes behind the lenses of his glasses flashed with the primal, unyielding rage of the "Mind Killer."

Dr. Khun barely had time to part his lips to speak before Joseph anchored his reality-bending grip onto him. The space around Si-u densified, pinning him brutally against the concrete wall and crushing his vocal cords—the researcher couldn't even manage a whimper. In that exact second, the molecular structure of his physical body began to break down. Dr. Khun's skin visibly softened, losing its shape and melting away like a wax doll left on a blazing furnace. His pristine white lab coat was instantly soaked in a gruesome, smoking organic mass.

Si-u's eyes widened to their absolute limits from the unbearable, agonizing shock, but Joseph's vacuum barrier kept every single drop of sound trapped.

Joseph took a slow step forward, taking his hands out of his pockets. His wide, sociopathic "normal guy" smile remained frozen on his face, contrasting sharply with the nightmare he was conducting. Utilizing a highly focused vector of gravitational displacement, Joseph mentally locked onto the upper and lower halves of Khun's body.

A sharp, sudden flick of his fingers.

A heavy, wet crunch and the tearing sound of snapping tendons echoed in the localized space. The reality distortion literally ripped Dr. Khun’s melting, yielding body entirely in half right at the waistline. Blood and viscera sprayed outward, but Joseph's anomalous field intercepted every single airborne droplet, refusing to let them tarnish a single fiber of his tailored navy-blue suit.

A second later, Joseph clenched his fist. The space inside the barrier collapsed with a muffled pop. The horrific remains of Dr. Khun—the blood, the flesh, and the melted skin—were instantly compressed by the sheer gravity into a microscopic, harmless singularity, completely erased from the physical world.

The corridor was pristine once more. No evidence. No traces.

Joseph pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, neatly dabbed a faint bead of sweat from his forehead, and adjusted his glasses. Layer by layer, the soft, polite, and tidy smile returned to his face. His Black Box was securely under lock and key. The test had gone perfectly fine.

------------------------------

The reinforced blast door of the containment cell hissed open again, exactly sixty seconds after Joseph had left.

"I'm back," Joseph said, his voice perfectly warm, light, and pleasant—the flawless mask of the normal guy firmly back in place as if the hallway outside hadn't just witnessed a butchering. He reached across the table and gently, carefully adjusted the silk scarf over Katie's eyes so she would be more comfortable. "Now, where were we, Katie? Ah, yes. Random talking. Let's start completely over. What's your favorite color?"

Scary Night

The vault room was a tomb of cold steel and flickering electronics. Four syndicate mercenaries, draped in tactical gear, huddled around the main terminal.

"Almost through," the hacker gritted out, his fingers dancing over the keypad. "Just one more layer and we’re—"

He entered the final digit. Instead of a click, the entire building shuddered with a deep, vibrating hum that rattled their teeth. The overhead white lights flickered once and died, replaced instantly by a pulsing, strobe-like blood-red emergency glow.

"Fuck, what’s this?" the leader hissed, his voice cracking as he raised his rifle.

One merc, standing by a massive marble pillar, felt a sudden, unnatural rush of air from above—as if the space itself had collapsed. He jerked his head up, his flashlight beam slicing through the gloom.

It happened in exactly one second.

From the absolute void of the high ceiling, a pale, bare hand shot down. It clamped around the merc’s throat with the force of a hydraulic press.

"FU—!!"

His scream of pure terror was cut off mid-breath. His hundred-kilogram frame, body armor and all, was yanked upward into the darkness as if he were a ragdoll caught in a snare. His boots vanished into the shadows before the others could even blink.

A sickening, dry CRACK echoed from the rafters—the sound of a thick branch snapping. But there was no wood in the bank. Those were his cervical vertebrae.

A moment later, the merc’s limp body plummeted back down, slamming onto the polished marble floor with a heavy, wet thud right in the center of a red light. His head was twisted at an impossible angle, his eyes wide and glassy with the shock of a death he never saw coming.

High above, perched on a steel beam, a silhouette leaned into the red glow. Dante Wheeler looked like a ghost of old Viltrum: his breathing was heavy and ragged, and the thick black paint around his eyes was smeared by sweat and tears, running down his face like oil. He wasn't cracking jokes like his father; he was simply watching.

"That's not Vision Guy..." the hacker whispered, his legs giving out. "Something... just killed him..."

"Shit!-" the leader screamed, dropping his bag and bolting for the exit.

Dante stood completely still against the wet brick wall, his back to the street. He had retreated into the darkness to slip away, but her soft footsteps had followed him right into the trap.When he slowly turned his upper body to face her, the breath completely left Lunette’s lungs.

In the pitch-black shadows of the alley, the thick greasepaint smeared across his eyes didn't look like makeup anymore. With the absolute lack of light, it looked like two hollow, infinite void holes carved violently into his skull. The flickering white strobe of a faulty streetlamp at the mouth of the alley caught the red double "V" on his chest, throwing jagged, broken shadows against the brick behind him. To Lunette, he didn’t look like a human vigilante hiding from the law. He looked like a terrifying fallen angel—a silent, vengeful ghost that had materialized out of the city's concrete.

“LEON! That is no way to talk to Miss Mun!!” The first bodyguard barked at the second in annoyance. “I swear, this Leon kid will be the death of me…” They sighed as they rubbed their temples. The first bodyguard was an older gentleman with dirty blonde hair and sharp features named Idris, he’d been Lunette’s Bodyguard since she was little and he sees her as his daughter.

Meanwhile the second bodyguard was the same age as Lunette, being one of the student-bodyguards of Lunette also means he’d be more casual with her since they see each other on campus a lot. Leon rolled his green eyes playfully at Idris, leaning towards Lunette to whisper. “Is he bothering you, queen?” 

Lunette couldn’t help but sniffle out a giggle as they get into the SUV, Idris was driving while Leon was next to Lunette. Leon got comfortable next to Lunette who’s wrapped up with the blanket, leaning in close to whisper. “Seriously though..Are you okay? Do we need to dispatch anyone to check out this place?” He asked in a low and dangerous tone, ready to strike first no matter who is the enemy.

She smiled at him and nodded, looking out of the window to watch the rain pour down. The city was beautiful with the lights and the rain pouring down the buildings like a mirage of colors. In Lunette’s eyes, everything and anything can be beautiful if you learn to look correctly. Though there was something that she was wondering about, “How did you two get alerted that I needed help? Usually you just let me run around til I willingly come back” she asked curiously to Leon next to her as he avoided eye-contact.

There was a few seconds of silence until Idris spoke up from behind the wheel. “Your heart rate was out of control miss, we thought you needed help..” Upon that confession, Lunette died silently in her seat, she knew why her heart beat was out of control and it wasn’t just out of fear but from curiosity.

She wore a tank top which was dirty from charcoal and sweat pants littered with evidences of previous paints stains and now charcoal. “How long is this going to take?!” Lunette yelled to no one in particular, frustration evident in her face as she checks her progress and sees that she’s only 15 seconds into her 2 minute charcoal animation. She grabbed her milk tea and sat down on the floor, contemplating if she should try and finish at least 1 minute of animation until the dawn of morning or should she just take shower and call it a day. While Lunette was contemplating, she heard a ding from her front door and immediately went into panic mode as the door opened to reveal Dante…

Through the doorway stepped the ghost she had been chasing.Dante was in full, terrifying gear. The matte-black tactical suit absorbed the warm ambient light of her apartment, making the red double "V" on his chest look like a sharp, metallic fracture in the room's reality. The dark gray leather jacket still carried the faint, crisp scent of the night rain and fresh ozone. But it was his face that made the breath completely hitch in her throat. The thick, pitch-black greasepaint smeared across his eyes transformed his gaze into two hollow, bottomless voids cutting through the dim light of her desk lamp.

He didn't make a sound. He just stood there, towering over the entryway, looking like a fallen angel who had bypassed her building's high-end corporate security without breaking a sweat.

His hollow gaze swept the room with tactical precision. He didn't look at her high-end tech. He looked at the chaos. He took in the littered takeout containers, the half-empty wintermelon milk tea, and the endless sheets of translucent paper scattered across the floor. Finally, the two dark voids of his eyes locked onto Lunette.

She was a complete contrast to the sleek, corporate daughter of Midnight Enterprises he had seen before. Her hair was messy, her tank top was covered in black dust, and a smudge of dark charcoal was pulled across her cheek.

Dante slowly closed the door behind him. The lock engaged with a heavy thud. He didn't drop into a stance, and he didn't raise his hands. He just walked deeper into her space with a slow, heavy, and unbothered stride, completely farming the aura of the apartment until her stressful art studio felt like a high-stakes GDA interrogation room.

He stopped exactly three feet from where she sat paralyzed on the floor. Up close, he loomed like a monument of wet leather and iron. He slowly leaned his upper body down, bringing his hollow, painted face inches from hers.

"You've been leaving pieces of paper all over my sector, princess," Dante said. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated right through her ribcage, completely flat and devoid of human warmth.

He glanced down at the animation desk, his sharp senses instantly reading the frantic, repetitive charcoal frames. A ghost of a sarcastic smirk flickered at the edge of his lips.

"Is this what Midnight Enterprises spends its resources on? Crying over a fifteen-second cartoon at two in the morning?" He straightened back up, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He reached into his leather jacket, pulled out the sleek, crisp Valentine's invitation she had left for him nights ago, and casually tossed it onto her lap. It landed right next to her charcoal pencils.

"Trying to have a relationship? No fucking way... I've seen enough of this so-called 'cheating on someone'." Dante delivered the line with a freezing, absolute finality. He didn't look angry; he looked like a man stating a law of physics.

He turned his back toward her, his dark gray jacket snapping as he walked toward her open window, overlooking the neon lights of the city below. He paused on the frame, his silhouette cutting a jagged line against the moonlit sky.

"You're terrible at being discreet, Lunette," he murmured over his shoulder, his voice fading into the cool night wind. "Clean the dirt off your face. Finish your project. And stop looking for things that don't belong in the light."

She focused on the letter and weaved out a string connected to Dante, she debated whether or not to reveal her powers this early but as the string faded out of reach because he was getting further away. Lunette tugged on the string which made Dante stop his movements, the string turning a dark red color that matches his own signature color. Lunette tugged the string again as Dante walked back towards her Apartment as Dante was dragged back, she snaps her fingers and people popped out to clean her work space.

Mainly Leon and a few other maids, Lunette went to freshen up in her bathroom with a shower. Leon meanwhile was making sure everything was in place as the way Lunette would like her art supplies to be.

“Alright! Let’s get to work” Leon told the maids who were either arranging the art supplies or the quickly cleaning up the apartment, the maids were little robots that were designed by Lunette’s older brother who is a leader in the scientific department of the midnight industries. A sort of housewarming gift, the little robots looked similar to kokeshi dolls or at least that’s what Leon thought. Why was he still awake and ready at 2am? Simple, he was out doing his own paperwork and he’s running on 3 cups of coffee and 2 monster energy drinks.

Leon went out to prepare something for his own headache as he checks if everything is functioning perfectly and so far the robots were doing everything right, one robot even gave him a warm cup of camomile tea. Lunette meanwhile was taking a shower, throwing her charcoal filled clothes into the hamper. She quickly finished up and took her usual combination of a camisole, long sleeve, and matching bottoms. She dried her hair with her usual routine of hair oiling and blow drying, it made her hair very soft and shiny.

Lunette stepped out and saw Leon reenacting the Hamilton trend of ‘alexander come back to sleep’ with one robo maid and another one filming. Lunette stared at the sleep deprived man and sighed.

“Leon, you are dismissed.. take the day off tomorrow, you can use one of my credit cards” She said before Leon would have any complaints, pressing a finger on his lips with a smile.

“Consider it a thank you for tonight” Lunette gave him a wink before sliding one of her credit cards into his pocket and ushering him out of the door, the robo maids quickly went back to their hide outs or their respective decorative spots.

In perfect timing, Dante knocked on Lunette’s door frame. Shock still in his face as he finally saw where the string that was tugging him to was connected. She gave a sheepish smile as if to apologize to him, she snapped her fingers and the doors closed automatically.

“My apologies for dragging you here again, I just need to talk to you again.. Because If you actually did read the letter, I was asking if you could help me out with my ability..” Lunette paused to take a sip of cherry tea previously brewed by the maids, sitting down on her couch infront of Dante as a cat sat down on Lunette’s lap. Truth to be told she doesn’t know how this cat got here but was thankful for the dramatic effect.

“The very same ability that bonded you to this string and allowed me to control your movements.” She smiled at him again only this time did Dante truly realize who Lunette is. The offspring of the CEO of Midnight Enterprises, the youngest daughter of Kon Heji Mun. Kon Heji was not only ruthless but also had alot of interactions with the dangerous people that even Dante hasn’t seen before, no one knows what goes on behind the cold walls of the Main Mun family house but it can’t be innocent.

“I have a very simple proposal Dante, You help me learn more about my ability and I can help you with anything you desire..”Lunette placed down her cup of tea as she stood up and walked to Dante, tugging him by his dark grey leather jacket.

“Everything you will need.. You need immunity from the law? That is easy, need money? Here’s my card..” She tried to hold his gaze but gave up and inhaled a sharp breath. “I just need you to help me with my ability..”

Lunette didn’t try to intimidate him anymore, her words were pleading, begging him to help as if something was on the line. “I.. I don’t want to make the same mistake again..please..You are the only one I can ask.” She sighed and lets go of him, careful not to break the string just yet..

“It will be just helping me train.. help me control my powers..and well- you would have to be abit closer to my place to do so! I mean my apartment IS very secure! And there are alot of rooms! It’s alright though if you don’t want that, I mean we have other places! But you should also consider yourself and your life” Lunette rambled on and on about how it might work, some even just quickly rambling about random things like how she thought Dante was a fallen angel when they first met.

Lunette kept twisting the string between her fingers, her eyes glued to the floor as she nervously stumbled over her words. She talked about training, about her secure apartment, about extra rooms, before completely losing her train of thought and blabbing about how he looked like a fallen angel when they first met. Her anxiety was practically vibrating in the small room.

The silence returned the second she ran out of breath. It stretched out, heavy and suffocating, completely farming the aura of the space.

Slowly, Dante turned his torso back toward her. He didn't drop his hands or soften his posture. He leaned his back against the window frame, crossing his arms over the red double "V" on his chest. The hollow, empty sockets of his gaze locked directly onto her trembling frame.

"You want me to teach you how to use your ability to take the world?" Dante asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp delivered in a flat, dangerously calm tone. He tilted his head slightly, his hollow gaze boring straight through her. "Well, a similar Viltrumite known as Conquest tried to destroy the planet before you showed up."

The name Conquest dropped into the quiet room like a lead weight, freezing the air instantly.

Dante slowly took a single step forward, his heavy combat boots making absolutely no sound on the hardwood floor. He loomed over her like a dark monument of wet leather and iron, bringing his painted face inches from hers.

"You think having powers is a game, princess? You think it’s about fixing up a nice, secure guest room and practicing in secret?" Dante murmured, his tone dripping with an icy, unbothered seriousness. "The monster I just mentioned didn't want to negotiate. He didn't care about corporate empires like Midnight Enterprises. He wanted to drown this world in blood and ashes."

He glanced down at the charcoal animation papers scattered around her feet, then back up to her face.

"I don't teach people how to play hero. I survive," Dante said, his voice dropping into a quiet, chilling finality. "If I teach you how to use your power, I'm going to train you like the world is ending tomorrow. Because guys like Conquest are always waiting in the dark. Go back to your drawings, Lunette. Forget about the fallen angel. Because my world isn't something you want to step into."

He didn't wait for her to process the warning. With a fluid, silent motion, Dante stepped backward off the window ledge, dissolving instantly into the midnight fog before she could even look up from the floor.

Scary Night

The vault room was a tomb of cold steel and flickering electronics. Four syndicate mercenaries, draped in tactical gear, huddled around the main terminal.

"Almost through," the hacker gritted out, his fingers dancing over the keypad. "Just one more layer and we’re—"

He entered the final digit. Instead of a click, the entire building shuddered with a deep, vibrating hum that rattled their teeth. The overhead white lights flickered once and died, replaced instantly by a pulsing, strobe-like blood-red emergency glow.

"Fuck, what’s this?" the leader hissed, his voice cracking as he raised his rifle.

One merc, standing by a massive marble pillar, felt a sudden, unnatural rush of air from above—as if the space itself had collapsed. He jerked his head up, his flashlight beam slicing through the gloom.

It happened in exactly one second.

From the absolute void of the high ceiling, a pale, bare hand shot down. It clamped around the merc’s throat with the force of a hydraulic press.

"FU—!!"

His scream of pure terror was cut off mid-breath. His hundred-kilogram frame, body armor and all, was yanked upward into the darkness as if he were a ragdoll caught in a snare. His boots vanished into the shadows before the others could even blink.

A sickening, dry CRACK echoed from the rafters—the sound of a thick branch snapping. But there was no wood in the bank. Those were his cervical vertebrae.

A moment later, the merc’s limp body plummeted back down, slamming onto the polished marble floor with a heavy, wet thud right in the center of a red light. His head was twisted at an impossible angle, his eyes wide and glassy with the shock of a death he never saw coming.

High above, perched on a steel beam, a silhouette leaned into the red glow. Dante Wheeler looked like a ghost of old Viltrum: his breathing was heavy and ragged, and the thick black paint around his eyes was smeared by sweat and tears, running down his face like oil. He wasn't cracking jokes like his father; he was simply watching.

"That's not Vision Guy..." the hacker whispered, his legs giving out. "Something... just killed him..."

"Shit!-" the leader screamed, dropping his bag and bolting for the exit.

Dante stood completely still against the wet brick wall, his back to the street. He had retreated into the darkness to slip away, but her soft footsteps had followed him right into the trap.When he slowly turned his upper body to face her, the breath completely left Lunette’s lungs.

In the pitch-black shadows of the alley, the thick greasepaint smeared across his eyes didn't look like makeup anymore. With the absolute lack of light, it looked like two hollow, infinite void holes carved violently into his skull. The flickering white strobe of a faulty streetlamp at the mouth of the alley caught the red double "V" on his chest, throwing jagged, broken shadows against the brick behind him. To Lunette, he didn’t look like a human vigilante hiding from the law. He looked like a terrifying fallen angel—a silent, vengeful ghost that had materialized out of the city's concrete.

“LEON! That is no way to talk to Miss Mun!!” The first bodyguard barked at the second in annoyance. “I swear, this Leon kid will be the death of me…” They sighed as they rubbed their temples. The first bodyguard was an older gentleman with dirty blonde hair and sharp features named Idris, he’d been Lunette’s Bodyguard since she was little and he sees her as his daughter.

Meanwhile the second bodyguard was the same age as Lunette, being one of the student-bodyguards of Lunette also means he’d be more casual with her since they see each other on campus a lot. Leon rolled his green eyes playfully at Idris, leaning towards Lunette to whisper. “Is he bothering you, queen?” 

Lunette couldn’t help but sniffle out a giggle as they get into the SUV, Idris was driving while Leon was next to Lunette. Leon got comfortable next to Lunette who’s wrapped up with the blanket, leaning in close to whisper. “Seriously though..Are you okay? Do we need to dispatch anyone to check out this place?” He asked in a low and dangerous tone, ready to strike first no matter who is the enemy.

She smiled at him and nodded, looking out of the window to watch the rain pour down. The city was beautiful with the lights and the rain pouring down the buildings like a mirage of colors. In Lunette’s eyes, everything and anything can be beautiful if you learn to look correctly. Though there was something that she was wondering about, “How did you two get alerted that I needed help? Usually you just let me run around til I willingly come back” she asked curiously to Leon next to her as he avoided eye-contact.

There was a few seconds of silence until Idris spoke up from behind the wheel. “Your heart rate was out of control miss, we thought you needed help..” Upon that confession, Lunette died silently in her seat, she knew why her heart beat was out of control and it wasn’t just out of fear but from curiosity.

She wore a tank top which was dirty from charcoal and sweat pants littered with evidences of previous paints stains and now charcoal. “How long is this going to take?!” Lunette yelled to no one in particular, frustration evident in her face as she checks her progress and sees that she’s only 15 seconds into her 2 minute charcoal animation. She grabbed her milk tea and sat down on the floor, contemplating if she should try and finish at least 1 minute of animation until the dawn of morning or should she just take shower and call it a day. While Lunette was contemplating, she heard a ding from her front door and immediately went into panic mode as the door opened to reveal Dante…

Through the doorway stepped the ghost she had been chasing.Dante was in full, terrifying gear. The matte-black tactical suit absorbed the warm ambient light of her apartment, making the red double "V" on his chest look like a sharp, metallic fracture in the room's reality. The dark gray leather jacket still carried the faint, crisp scent of the night rain and fresh ozone. But it was his face that made the breath completely hitch in her throat. The thick, pitch-black greasepaint smeared across his eyes transformed his gaze into two hollow, bottomless voids cutting through the dim light of her desk lamp.

He didn't make a sound. He just stood there, towering over the entryway, looking like a fallen angel who had bypassed her building's high-end corporate security without breaking a sweat.

His hollow gaze swept the room with tactical precision. He didn't look at her high-end tech. He looked at the chaos. He took in the littered takeout containers, the half-empty wintermelon milk tea, and the endless sheets of translucent paper scattered across the floor. Finally, the two dark voids of his eyes locked onto Lunette.

She was a complete contrast to the sleek, corporate daughter of Midnight Enterprises he had seen before. Her hair was messy, her tank top was covered in black dust, and a smudge of dark charcoal was pulled across her cheek.

Dante slowly closed the door behind him. The lock engaged with a heavy thud. He didn't drop into a stance, and he didn't raise his hands. He just walked deeper into her space with a slow, heavy, and unbothered stride, completely farming the aura of the apartment until her stressful art studio felt like a high-stakes GDA interrogation room.

He stopped exactly three feet from where she sat paralyzed on the floor. Up close, he loomed like a monument of wet leather and iron. He slowly leaned his upper body down, bringing his hollow, painted face inches from hers.

"You've been leaving pieces of paper all over my sector, princess," Dante said. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated right through her ribcage, completely flat and devoid of human warmth.

He glanced down at the animation desk, his sharp senses instantly reading the frantic, repetitive charcoal frames. A ghost of a sarcastic smirk flickered at the edge of his lips.

"Is this what Midnight Enterprises spends its resources on? Crying over a fifteen-second cartoon at two in the morning?" He straightened back up, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He reached into his leather jacket, pulled out the sleek, crisp Valentine's invitation she had left for him nights ago, and casually tossed it onto her lap. It landed right next to her charcoal pencils.

"Trying to have a relationship? No fucking way... I've seen enough of this so-called 'cheating on someone'." Dante delivered the line with a freezing, absolute finality. He didn't look angry; he looked like a man stating a law of physics.

He turned his back toward her, his dark gray jacket snapping as he walked toward her open window, overlooking the neon lights of the city below. He paused on the frame, his silhouette cutting a jagged line against the moonlit sky.

"You're terrible at being discreet, Lunette," he murmured over his shoulder, his voice fading into the cool night wind. "Clean the dirt off your face. Finish your project. And stop looking for things that don't belong in the light."