The worst day for the SCP Foundation

And let the whole world wait, or the beginnings of some D-class

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The only surviving member of Class D begins to look for a way out. SCP-049 and SCP-035 simply walked around on the floor below.
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SCP-173's cell was in the process of being cleaned when a loud siren wailed and a voice over the intercom announced an intrusion. Two D-class personnel in orange jumpsuits alternately blinked at the sculpture while using the other mop to wipe the mixture of blood and feces from the floor. Scientists observed this process, just in case fixing the behavior of the statue.

A sudden hum from the lower floors caused the lights to flicker, causing eye contact with the object to break and SCP-173 killing two D-class personnel. Loud screams and gunshots were heard in the darkness. Soon the lights came on again, illuminating the lone survivor, the same D-Class that had been cleaning the containment cell. The guards and scientists lay on the ground with their necks twisted. And the SCP itself disappeared into the ventilation shaft.

Poor D-9341 ran as fast as he could from where the sculpture was kept. Loud noises came from the lower floors, frightening the man even more. His breath began to hitch, and his lungs burned unpleasantly, but he continued to run through the gray corridors without looking back. To stop meant to die.

Some doors opened and closed easily, while others required a special key card, which was just what he was looking for. Well, at least he tried.

Running out into another corridor, he noticed two doors. Without thinking twice, D entered the door on the left. He was greeted by white cabinets and shelves with papers describing some of the SCPs, various boxes of useless documents, one battery, and a Level 1 keycard. Entering the door, which was in the same room, he went out into another corridor with a door opposite and two on the sides. The guy decided to look in the door opposite and again he was met by bedside tables, shelves with drawers and a door. Passing through the door again, he saw a corridor identical to the previous one. Confused, he entered the door opposite. And then again. Again. Again.

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Things were a little worse on the fourth floor than on the third, but better than on the fifth. Due to the stupidity of scientists looking into SCP-096's face during a panic, the walls were covered in blood and resembled Swiss cheese. The Shy Guy destroyed almost all the walls during the rampage. All the people on the floor were killed almost immediately after the siren went off.

But one particular object did not really like this alignment. In the chamber, completely filled with black liquid, a broken cube of reinforced glass stood in the center on a metal plinth. The shy guy made his way into this remote corner of the complex as well. There was a small hole in the dirty wall the size of a large fist, the fragments of which shattered the pedestal almost to smithereens. The hole is too small to escape through. And that was the most disappointing.

A man in orange overalls lay on the floor next to broken glass, staring up at the ceiling. He wore a porcelain mask over his face, from the eye sockets and from the mouth of which oozed the same black liquid that covered the walls of the cell. SCP-035 was bored. Very boring. While most of the test subjects emerged from their containment cells and tried to escape, he was locked in here for a long time. And all that remained for him was to splash in the black liquid and wait for some unfortunate person to pass by his cell and "persuade" him to open the door. And he wanted to see his old friend. And perhaps he preferred to meet him rather than run away. But this is only possible.

But why was it locked now even when all the doors were open 079? Well, partly, or maybe not entirely, is my fault. In the past, he so often brainwashed scientists to free him, read their memories of top secret documents and then blurted them out to scientists with a lower level, drove qualified employees crazy and urged them to commit suicide, just gave them false information, and that's even not a complete list. And his countless attempts to break containment, in which almost all the lower floors were filled with a black, caustic liquid, is not worth talking about. Yes, once it was more flawed than the same Invulnerable Reptile. But, unfortunately, the director of the zone quickly got tired of this and, on his instructions, the Mask's camera was moved to the farthest corner of the fourth floor and disconnected from the general door system. Cell 035 can now only be entered with a Level 5 card, special testing clearance from the Site Director or members of the O-5 Council, and after a series of mental health tests. That is, no one has visited it for a very long time.

But how did he get this body? Yes, SCP-035 himself was shocked when a dead D-class fell into his cell from the ceiling. Dirty brown hair, pale skin with many cuts and cracks, gouged eyes, missing a few fingers. Not a very good copy, but in this situation there is no choice.

But there was no point in this body if he couldn't walk around the complex.

Suddenly, 035 heard footsteps in the hallway. Calm, unhurried steps approached his cell. Here you do not need to be able to read minds to find out whose steps these are. Although the Mask would never be able to read his mind. This particular "person" was beyond his ability.

There was a muffled sound of a door opening in the observation room. A few seconds later, a familiar figure appeared behind the double-sided glass, dressed entirely in black. The robe covered the tall man's body from head to toe, his face was completely covered by the plague doctor's mask, and only cold golden eyes looked at the Mask of Possession.

"Doc, I'm very glad to see you again. When did we last see each other?" Mask gave a theatrical exclamation and rose from the dirty floor.

SCP-049 ignored Mask's question, simply shaking his head at his old friend's usual antics and responding. "I'm glad to see you too, my friend."

"Can you let me out first? I would like to talk to you in a more pleasant environment", said 035. Calling the blood-stained corridors a pleasant environment might sound strange, but then again, there is no choice.

The plague doctor immediately pulled the right lever on the panel, and the doors to the containment chamber opened. Half covered in black slime, SCP-035 retreated to the exit, where 049 was already waiting for him.

"Well, tell me, how are you? How is the development of a cure for pestilence coming along? How many patients could you cure?" Mask asked with his usual vigor. His loud voice contrasted sharply with the screams of random scientists and guards who stood in the way of 096.

"What can I say my friend? Scientists have stopped supplying me with sick people, lately I have cured a lot less patients. And it seems that I have not made any progress in creating a cure. My hands are failing." SCP-049 spoke in a slightly mechanical tone. His quiet and calm voice was completely different from Mask's energetic and loud voice. But even with the shaking roar and growl from the lower floor and the loud screams from the upper floor, 035 could hear him perfectly.

"Do not despair. I'm sure you'll be all right, doc. You just need more time." Mask spoke encouragingly. Meanwhile, somewhere nearby, loud screams were heard, which were accompanied by obscene words and shots.

"I don't know. How long will it take to create a cure? I don't even know where to start." There was no sadness in his voice, but Mask knew better when someone was disappointed in themselves.

"Don't think about it, think about how many patients you will save after you create your drug." Mask spoke happily and gesticulated with his hands. Frightened screams were heard again from the upper floors.

The plague doctor was silent. They walked through the bloodied dark gray corridors in complete silence. For Doc, the silence was pleasant and comfortable, and he enjoyed it because he knew it would be destroyed in a few seconds. For Mask, the silence was annoyingly boring, his fingers twitching with eagerness to break it, which he did.

"So where do we go next, doc?" Leaning towards 049, Mask asked.

"Wherever there are patients who need my treatment." The doctor answered.

They walked forward, talking and reminiscing about their old days, until they came across an elevator leading to the third floor. The dead guard without a lower body lay on his stomach and reached for the elevator doors. The insides of his body were torn out and as if gnawed, and his head was crushed like a walnut. The walls to the ceiling were covered in blood. After exchanging glances with each other, 049 pressed the call button and they began to wait for the elevator.

"I wonder who it is his so?" Not expecting an exact answer, the Plague Doctor asked.

"Probably 096." Mask replied with a shrug.

"Hmm, usually he's not so ceremonious with" victims ". The doctor answered thoughtfully.

The elevator made a dinging sound and the doors slid open. In the elevator car, the picture was even worse. Bloody mess from torn off arms and heads with deep teeth marks on them. White walls stained with blood and claw marks. The two looked at each other again and, having no other options, entered the elevator. Pressing the right button, they went to the top floor.

But what happened in that elevator anyway?