Documentation of Site-■■■ [MCYT SCP FILES]

Side Report: George

George did not like the Foundation.

He was stuck in barely livable, bland concrete room with little furniture, nothing to do, and just one person for company, who just so happened to be completely unbearable. George lay on his comfortable-enough bed, so different to the nice one back in his apartment, staring at the white walls, the color chosen specifically to drive him mad. Or at least, that's how it seemed to George. To be fair, he had been allotted some books to pass the time, but George would rather sulk than let that stupid doctor feel like he had made improvement with him.

George's scowl deepened just thinking about him. He was tall, annoyingly so, blond and lean, and although all of his face save for his mouth was always obscured by some ridiculous mask that was partially covered by his bangs, but George could still clearly see the silly smiley face on it. His name was Dr. Clay Bloque, who never seemed to get the message that George hated his and the goddamned foundation's existence. Nevertheless, he seemed to always make time to pester George- No, sorry, SCP-404 in the middle of his busy schedule of experimenting on other poor, unfortunate souls like himself.

George still hadn't forgiven them for killing him. Sure, he might've been immortal, but that didn't mean that dying didn't hurt like a son of a bitch. He had been so close to freedom, too. Perhaps if he had fought the anesthesia a little harder, he might have managed to finally escape. George clenched his right fist, still remembering the phantom pains that racked it after it was amputated. They were so inhumane, and the worst thing was, it seemed as though no one knew of their existence, so rescue was all but impossible, and so far all of his escape attempts had proven fruitless. He glared at the camera, knowing full well some scientist or another was watching.

"Well," Came Clay's absurd voice through the speaker in his room, causing him to jolt into a sitting position onto his bed. "Good morning to you too." The cell door opened, and in walked the man himself, a pleasant smile and gentle laughter coming from his lips. George huffed, purposefully looking away to stare at the interesting lack of a floor pattern as the doctor eased his way into the room, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in the pathetic table in George's room.

"Brought you breakfast," Clay said cheerfully, as though George wasn't a prisoner in hell for the foreseeable future. George glared at the figure who had made himself at home in the seat across from where he set the plate. George had to admit, one of the only good things about this place was that they served awfully good food, but still, that didn't change the fact that George couldn't wait for the day the entire Foundation crumbled to the ground.

"Go fuck yourself," George muttered, using a concise choice of words to express his constant hatred for the man in front of him, who had the audacity to chuckle as he helped himself to a piece of bacon off his plate. The sound of him crunching slowly on his breakfat brought George's attention back to the doctor's face, whose smile was surprisingly slipping.

"You know, I'm starting to get the impression you don't like me very much." Clay grumbled through a mouthful of his pork mess, and George couldn't help but scoff and roll his eyes, leaning back against the wall behind him. "I get you think this place is hell, but come on, it's not all that bad. Could be worse." Now that was something that caught George's attention, as that was most likely the first thing that came out from the doctors mouth that made it seem as though he had some form of empathy.

"Could be worse," George mocked, returning his gaze from the tabletop to where he assumed Clay's eyes were to glare at. "And you're right, I do think this place is hell, you mask-wearing freak. You're all monsters, the lot of you, yet I'm the one that's going to be stuck here for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. I bet you don't have an ounce of sympathy, you sick fuck." Clay tilted his head to the side slightly, as though just now trying to understand his point of view.