Syndicate of the Hallowed

Simple Plans

     Cory laid back into his seat, it's stiffness a reminder that it was not meant for sleeping. But even if he did want to try and sleep, his mind wandered elsewhere- General Flooper. Flooper was going to die soon, and Otis will replace him. Cory knew he couldn't just extend the life of a clone to avoid it. He didn't want to kill Otis either, he doesn't want to kill anyone. Just leaving before Otis classifies him isn't an option, the site would be stuck with Otis at the helm- a nightmare for sure. He needed someone more appealing as a site director, someone just as good as General Flooper. Minutes passed by as Cory was deep in thought. 'A replacement for Flooper'. He thought back to when Flooper was first promoted to General. He replaced the General who fell victim for SCP-966. Cory took a pause. The General who is still alive and at the base, only under the effects of an SCP. Effects that Cory can cancel out.

     Steps echoed throughout the hallway, the clicks of expensive oxfords. Professor Otis, dressed sharp without a spec of dust in sight, purple eyes that could kill, and an expression of frustration. The General was quite easy to manipulate, but there were somethings he wouldn't budge on. 'Every anomaly here should be in a cell, that's what the foundation does. It doesn't matter if it's "helpful".' Otis spitefully thought. Despite his influence with the 05, he still doesn't have full control over this site. And plenty of things needed fixing here. A noise beside his own footsteps echoed around the corner. Otis paused, there was no guard on patrol in this area. Booted footsteps grew more distant. He turned the corner and was rather surprised, he caught a glimpse of someone entering the file room.

     Cory entered the file room, his gaze locking onto the nearest computer. 'In and out, real quick.' he thought. All he needed was to know where the General was. He could prevent Otis from becoming Site director. Cory padded down his uniform, unsure of which of his seemingly hundreds of pockets contains his foundation ID. He lightly felt the rough outline through his thick gloves. He swiftly unzipped his pockets and shoved the card into the reader. The incident report of that day should tell him where the people affected by SCP-966 are kept.

     Otis was tempted to simply walk past the file room and assume that another unhinged doctor was using it. But those doctor's don't wear field agent gear- perhaps some childish onesie, but not tactical gear. The stark door stood before him, he entered. A wave of cold air filled his lungs, the file room was kept cold and dim to help preserve the old documents kept there. He briskly walked through the shelves, trying to find whoever went in. In front of one of the computers a field agent stood, back to Otis. The figure was wearing an Alpha Strike uniform and had unmistakable blonde hair. "Private Crater?".