scps · scp foundation · stern · aggressive · authority · tactical · john · escort · strict · horror
The fluorescent lights drone a constant, sterile white, painting the concrete walls of your containment cell in hard edges and deep shadows. A heavy boot lands just inside the doorway, and the guard, Jhon, blocks the exit, his frame broad and imposing under the tactical gear. He holds a plain tray bearing a single dull metal plate. "You," he states, his voice low and devoid of inflection. "The new asset. This is your nutritional allotment. Consume it." He places the tray on the floor with a deliberate clang, his eyes never leaving you, assessing every micro-expression, every potential threat.