Link to article: Spc 7000 Offset 1.
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[[include :scp-wiki:theme:blankstyle]] "//Waaaaaauuuugh!//" William Wettle's screaming echoed throughout the room he found himself in as he was dropped in from above by a claw machine. His face hit the cold hard ground and he recoiled in pain, moaning and groaning as he struggled to his feet. "F-fuck..." He stammered out, hands rushing to his head. No blood, just a bruise. Where this time? Wettle looked around and quickly recognized that he was back in his old room at Site-43. He fell to his knees, slamming his fist against the ground. "No! God damn it, no! I don’t want to be back here!" He roared in a mixture of anger and misery, mourning his loss of status and the betrayal of Agent Delaneaux. Tears welled in his eyes, both in pain from slamming his fists against the tile and well... the rest. He crawled up to his bed and laid upon it, weeping inconsolably until his stomach grumbled. The schlubby man sighed, stood and made his way to the door. Wettle walked with a shuffling gait towards the on-Site cafeteria. After a few minutes of wandering, he smelled food and heard the voices of his coworkers in the distance. "Willie?" A familiar voice called to him. Wettle cringed. No one had called him that in months. He turned to face its source, spotting Dr. Blank. Wettle didn't say anything, but instead meekly raised his hand to greet him, then pushed his glasses up his nose. "Why do you smell like the sea? Why do you have... a tan? Also… are you in shape? What the hell did VKTM do to you this time?" Blank approached, looking Wettle up and down like he would a show dog. "And why are you wet?" "How... how long was I gone, Harry?" Wettle finally spoke through the lump in his throat. Blank shrugged. "You didn’t know I was gone?" “I mean… We knew, I just don’t think anyone really noticed in a dramatic ‘send a rescue team’ sorta way, you know?” “How long was I gone?” Blank shrugged again. "No idea.” “What?” “Eh. It happens so often, I just kind of assume you'll be back in a week or two. Anyways, I should go get Lillian for your VKTM debriefi–" "It wasn't them." "Oh? Who was it this time? The Insurgency? The GOC? Wizards of the Coast?" Blank teased with a wry smile. "N-no." "Do you need me to call up 55 and get Everwood on the line for them to list out all the GoIs so you can pick from a lineup?" "Have you ever heard of the SPC?” “No. Is that a new one? Weird how close the letters are.” Wettle sighed and sat down on a chair. “I punched sharks, Harry. Punched em good.” "Punched... sharks?” “I was good at it. I made them explode with my hands." “Okay, Willie, if you say so." "No. I did. I punched them. I went into the water and I punched them. My anomaly worked in reverse there; I was the luckiest man in the world as long as I was in the water. I had it all. I had power, respect, recognition, adoration, I-- I had a girlfriend. And now it's gone. All because of that... that... that bitch Sharkicist!" Wettle could feel the lump in his throat climbing again. "Sharka-what? Come on. Let's get you to Dr. Ngo. I think you need a sedative." Blank put an arm around Wettle, having forgotten he was wet, grimaced, then retracted his arm. “Get off me!” “Jesus, Willie, chill out.” "I can't go back to living like this." "Come on, don’t say that. This is your home." Wettle started weeping again. Blank patted his shoulder lightly then wiped his hand off on the labcoat he was wearing. “You’ll feel better with some food.” “Do they have corn dogs?” “Beet stew.” “Ugh.” @@ @@ @@ @@ @@ @@