Rob stepped out of his room, stretching lazily.
Another peaceful day.
Probably.
He looked to the left.
Two guards.
To the right.
Two more guards.
He blinked.
"...Did I get promoted or something?"
None of them answered.
They just stood there, trying very hard to look professional and not like men assigned to babysit a walking reality violation.
Rob smiled.
"Good morning, security squad number... whatever."
One of them nodded stiffly.
"Good morning, sir."
"Still weird hearing that."
He started walking.
They followed.
He stopped.
They stopped.
He turned around.
They looked anywhere except directly at him.
"...Are you following me?"
"No, sir."
"You literally stopped when I stopped."
"Coincidence, sir."
"That's not how coincidence works."
The guard looked like he wanted immediate retirement.
Rob sighed.
"Relax. I'm just going for breakfast, not rewriting physics and creating black holes."
"...That is somehow not reassuring, sir."
Rob smirked at them.
And with that, he kept walking.
The guards followed.
Obviously.
—
The cafeteria was already full.
Staff talking.
MTF members eating like their lives depended on it.
Researchers arguing over coffee.
The usual.
As Rob entered, several conversations died instantly.
He had gotten used to that.
Mostly.
"Morning, everyone."
Silence.
One poor researcher almost dropped his tray.
Rob nodded.
"Good, good. Very lively atmosphere."
He grabbed a plate and looked around.
Then frowned.
"...Where are the pancakes?"
A kitchen worker froze.
"We... ran out this morning."
Rob stared.
"...This is a tragedy."
With a snap, three perfect pancakes appeared on his tray.
The kitchen staff collectively looked offended, while some looked intrigued.
"That's heresy. Food not cooked is not food."
"That's innovation."
"No, where is the soul?!"
"Agree to disagree."
He walked away, leaving behind a group of chefs debating.
—
At another table, Carl was already eating with his squad.
The moment he saw Rob approaching, he looked tired.
Not angry.
Just tired.
That was worse.
"Morning, Bob."
"...I will file paperwork."
"Good morning to you too."
Fray, sitting nearby, was already smiling like a man watching free entertainment.
"Captain, maybe today he'll explain the secret family history."
"There is no secret family history."
"That's exactly what someone hiding a secret family history would say."
Carl closed his eyes.
Sometimes violence felt like a reasonable answer.
Rob sat down across from them, happily eating pancakes that should not exist.
Fray leaned forward.
"Rob, serious question."
"Go on."
"How many complaints do you think Bright gets about you per day?"
Rob thought about it.
"Depends. Does emotional damage count?"
"...Unfortunately, yes."
"Then probably a lot."
Carl nodded.
"Correct."
Rob looked genuinely proud.
"Nice."
Carl hated this place.
—
After breakfast, Rob decided to walk around again.
No destination.
Just curiosity.
That was usually enough to create problems.
Today, however, something felt... off.
He had noticed it yesterday too.
Too many doors closed.
Too many guards in places that had been empty before.
Too many signs saying:
UNDER MAINTENANCE
He stopped in front of one of them.
Another hallway.
Another restricted sector.
Another suspiciously convenient maintenance sign.
"...You guys really suck at maintenance."
A nearby guard pretended not to hear him.
Rob walked closer.
The guard straightened immediately.
"Sir, this area is currently unavailable."
"Still under maintenance?"
"Yes, sir."
Rob looked at the perfectly clean hallway.
No tools.
No workers.
No sound.
Nothing.
"...What exactly are you maintaining?"
The guard hesitated.
"...The... structural integrity."
"The hallway."
"Yes, sir."
"The hallway's structural integrity."
"Yes, sir."
Rob stared.
The guard stared back with the expression of a man begging for death.
"...That's the worst lie I've heard this week."
"Thank you, sir."
Before Rob could continue—
"Funny seeing you here."
He turned.
Bright.
Of course.
Walking toward him with the exact energy of a man arriving at a crime scene he had predicted.
Rob crossed his arms.
"You appeared way too fast."
Bright adjusted his coat.
"Coincidence."
"You're worse at lying than the guard."
"I know."
The guard looked personally betrayed.
Bright ignored him.
"Come with me."
"Why?"
"Because every time I see you near a restricted hallway, my lifespan decreases."
"...That sounds like a you problem."
"It is. Unfortunately, I'm trying to solve it."
Rob smirked.
"You're following me."
"You noticed."
"You're terrible at subtle manipulation."
Bright sighed.
"Rob."
"Jack."
"Please stop investigating random doors."
"Please stop making random doors so noticeable."
"..."
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Rob asked the real question.
"What are you hiding there?"
Bright was silent.
That alone was enough.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Finally, Bright spoke.
"Something you'll probably meet."
"Someone like me?"
Bright froze for a moment.
"It... is? a bit?"
Bright answered with a face that looked worse than crying.
That answer made Rob smile.
And Bright knew it.
Which made him sigh again.
"Great. I can actually see your curiosity increasing."
"Let's go somewhere else, please?"
"Where?"
"An interesting SCP."
Bright looked at him.
Then smiled slightly.
"...How do you feel about plague doctors?"
Rob blinked.
"Ah, that guy. He is very famous. Let's go."
—
Several minutes later, they were walking deeper into another sector.
This time, legally.
Probably.
Two guards followed at a respectful distance.
Bright carried a file.
Rob carried absolutely no sense of concern.
"So," Rob said, "let me guess. Creepy doctor. Talks weird. Probably wants to stab people for medical reasons."
Bright glanced at him.
"...That is disturbingly accurate."
"I have talent."
"No, you have intel."
"Same thing."
Bright handed him the file.
SCP-049.
Rob read while walking.
Then raised an eyebrow.
"...Interesting."
"That's one word for it."
"He thinks people are infected by some mysterious plague."
"Yes."
"And he kills them to cure them."
"Also yes."
"That sounds like a terrible doctor."
Bright almost smiled.
"Try not to say that to his face."
"No promises."
They reached the observation room.
Through the reinforced glass, the chamber was quiet.
A tall figure stood inside.
Black robes.
White mask.
Elegant posture.
Watching.
Even from a distance, there was something unsettling about him.
Not because he looked monstrous.
Because he looked calm.
Like he belonged in a different century.
Rob leaned slightly closer.
Bright pressed a button.
The intercom activated.
"049."
The figure turned smoothly.
Its voice came measured and refined.
"Doctor Bright. How pleasant. And I see we have a guest."
"In addition, I'd like to have more test subjects. The last group has already been used up, but I've made some progress."
Its gaze shifted.
Even through layers of containment glass.
"...How unusual."
Rob waved as he passed through the wall, going inside the chamber.
"Rob, sto— you know what, do whatever you want."
"Hello there."
A pause.
049 stepped closer.
"...Curious."
Bright immediately noticed the tone.
That was not normal.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
049 tilted his head.
"I am... uncertain."
Rob smiled.
"I'm infected too? Will you cut me down?"
049 ignored him.
Its voice lowered.
"I have spent a great deal of time observing humanity. The plague is rarely subtle."
Another step.
"But you..."
Silence.
Even Bright stopped moving.
"...You are either perfectly untouched..."
Another pause.
"...or entirely beyond diagnosis."
Rob blinked.
"...That sounds either very good or very bad."
049 studied him like a puzzle it disliked.
"You carry neither decay nor corruption as I understand it."
Rob leaned against the glass.
"Nice. So I pass the health check?"
049's masked face turned slightly.
"No."
"...No?"
"Nothing healthy should be so hard to define. Throughout my entire life, I've found that not even anomalous beings are spared from this."
Rob laughed.
Bright did not.
Because honestly?
That answer was concerning.
Very concerning.
Rob, however, looked delighted.
049 folded his hands.
"You are not ordinary."
"That has been mentioned."
"And yet you walk among extraordinary horrors without concern."
Rob shrugged.
"Life is more fun that way."
049 was silent again.
Then:
"...You are either a cure."
A pause.
"...or a far greater disease."
Rob grinned.
"Want my help finding the cure for that plague?"
"Your help is very much appreciated, but no, thank you."
049 stepped back.
Its tone returned to formal calm.
"Even if you are an anomaly between anomalies i dont think you understand what the plague truly entails"
Bright answered immediately.
"He probably does"
Rob started thinking
"Well, From what i have read before... maybe fifty fifty?"
He snapped his fingers and a replica of a human stood there, completly frozen
"Does this type of guy have the plague?"
Surprised, 049 approached
Behind the glass, Bright didn't even react. Not even caring that Rob created a completly real copy of a human
Honestly, he probably wouldn't care even if Rob created a fully real human.
"Interesting, i cant feel any sign of life inside of this... thing, but can feel a subtle amount of plague"
"So that's a no?
Lets change"
*snap*
Another 'Person' replaced the previous one
"And this one?"
"This...It carries slightly more of the plague, but not enough to be fatal"
*snap*
...
*snap*
As more and more clones are replaced, Rob started to see the pattern
"Okay, right now im gonna bring someone i think will be very, very infected, if my guess is right"
*snap*
The new clone is a person dressed in what could be considered noble attire, very fat, and with a... fish tank on his head?
The moment that person appeared, the atmosphere around 049 changed.
"This… this thing is far beyond anything I have ever seen."
"If I can experiment with many of these 'Humans', my ability to develop a cure will improve significantly."
With a sharp gaze, 049 turned to Rob
"Can you provide me with more of these subjects? Preferably more alive than being a mere shell"
His tone was completely serious, as he has never seen such a nice subjects
"Well... i cant bring the real person here, as that would literally disturb some reality in another universe but... i can clone their exact bodies and personalities"
"That's enough; I'd really appreciate it. Your contribution to the cure would go down in history."
"Sure"
Rob turned to Bright... who is now writing a complaint himself, as for who is he sending it to... who knows
"... Well, i gotta leave before that guy starts to draft his resignation letter"
As Rob turned to leave, a machine that looked like a sarcophagus appeared on the corner, it has a button on the side
"Just press the button and that thing will create another subject. Each one will be random, so you won't have to worry about variety. But it only works once a week—I don't want people thinking I'm some mad scientist or something."
049 nodded and with what appeared as a... smile? Not that Rob can say, as he is wearing a mask, but thats the feeling he gives, approached the machine to start working
Rob, going though the glass walked toward the door as Bright followed him... with a dead face
"... He really started clonating people..."
Bright muttered, like his entire world was shattered
"Dont worry man, they are clones, and althoughthey have the original personality, those things dont think, they just talk like broken recordings"
"Also, i didnt give them a soul"
A little relieved, Bright now has a little more normal face
"Lets go, whats the next stop?"
Bright checked his to-do list
"Ah, the next one is something special, we want your help in this one as we dont have many ways to investigate him"
"... Thats interesting, whats his name? i mean... number"
"Its... SCP-507"