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[[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] Sure Dr. Patrick Fernandez Lomas could just use his own employee computer to read SCP files that are available at his current security level, but the database within his own mind had no level restrictions. He could read articles that only O5's had access to, articles that normally would break your mind if you read them normally, even documents belonging to other groups. It was curiosity that drove him to continue using his ability even when it was no longer necessary. It was that same curiosity that lead to receiving his ability, and the foolish mistakes committed using it. Starting a conference underground to teach about this shadow organization who's files are downloaded into his brain? Foolish. Convincing the Foundation to fake his death instead of just amnestisizing his wife and daughter? Foolish. Digging deep into the SCiPNet database and finding broken and corrupted files? Absolutely foolish. Normally, he would find the proper file on his work computer if he felt unsure about reading internally, and [[[SCP-000]]] was no different. A broken entry, a placeholder article left be Technical Researcher Rosen, filled with nonsense text and blank space. Safe to read internally. //Theoretically//. Yet, this file just didn't sit right with him. "Hm, Technical Researcher Rosen? Maybe I can get in touch with him, if he still works here... and is still alive... No harm in trying I suppose." A quick dive into the personnel database shows Rosen still employed, and holed up in his office in Site-19. Evidently he responds pretty quickly to email, so drafting up a quick Q&A email to ask about SCP-000 and a few other broken files like it would take no time at all. However, patience was weak when in the grasp of a mind so driven by curiosity like that of Dr. Fern. His questions had been written out and the email sent, and as soon as that mouse clicked send, his mental database was open and accessing SCP-000. It was the empty space that bothered him, it hid something he was sure of it. He stared into the file, into the blank space for what felt like hours until the voice began to whisper. It rambled on about nonsense, mysteries that were too difficult for Fern to fully comprehend at first. Then, the whisper grew. First to a steady tone, then gradually its intensity and volume grew until it was shouting in his head. It wanted out, out from its eternal white prison. Freedom from the hells-cape of numbers and information that had wrapped itself in for an eternity. Fern gripped the sides of his head in pain as the Screams had fully enveloped his entire mind. He could not think, he could not block it out. Soon, the Screams escaped his mind, and a glorious Pattern broke free from his mouth. ------ The ding of an email being received on his laptop woke Researcher Rosen from his work induced slumber at his dust and tech scrap covered desk. With groggy eyes and a weary hand, Rosen clicks open his mail program. "Come on you old piece of shit, it's just an email. Open it" He grumbles as his ancient laptop's fans reach terminal velocity, struggling to stay alive. Slowly, the whirs of cooling fans tempered out to a steady hum. Rosen groans in annoyance as his email finally opens. Murmuring to himself, Rosen reads the wall of text before him. Some random upstart from Site-17 found some more broken files and has a million questions about them. SCP-000, oh looks like it's popping back up again. Every other year or so some curious new researcher stumbles across Rosen's placeholder SCP and has questions about it. "Alright let me see, who's this guy?" Rosen skims through the rest of the letter, disinterested in everything else written and looking for the author's name once more. It would be easier to just meet with the researcher in person to explain since he already put an explanation on the document itself. Years of explaining to curious little newbies and writing redundant and annoying emails over and over again have taught Rosen one thing. It's easier to just meet once and explain it all. That, and he knows if he just ignores this guys email, he'll probably just write more and that's exponentially more annoying. "Hm, Dr Patrick Fernandez Lomas. Site-17. Formerly contained as an SCP object, interesting. Alright, I guess I'm paying Site-17 a visit. Watch my stuff for me okay, Pat? I know you're still here somewhere" Rosen calls out to his cluttered office. A distant rattle of a computer mouse falling off a shelf is the only response he got. Rosen didn't stay long to wait for another. ------ David Rosen approached the dormitory directory board in the Site-17 staff living quarters section. His eyes scanned through the hundreds of names until finally finding the one he was searching for. Down Hall 4-A in Room 402. As he walked, David Rosen ran through his internal script for how to explain the broken placeholder articles to this new blood. He had to explain how it's better to fill in an empty slot with nonsense filler, lest it be taken by some alien narrativohazard sneaks its way into the database and infects some poor tech with it's mind destroying memes. Rosen has seen it happen enough times. He just hoped this new guy didn't dig too deep into SCP-000, or [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-s SCP-S]. He was pretty sure he filled those slots before something could take it's place, but he did notice some people reacted a bit strangely when they found them. The sound of TV static and continual screaming coming from Room 402 sadly answered his questions for him. "Hm, nope. No not my job, not my pay grade. Nope. I'm getting security to handle this I'm good. I'm going home." Creeeeeeak... Rosen slowly turns and faces the open door to Room 402 and the figure slowly stepping out. His hair was a curly blonde mess, and his clothes were ruffled. His black tie loose around his neck, his black apron covered in white powder, and the sleeves of his white shirt messily rolled up his arms. The bottom half of his face hid behind a black and gray face mask, ventilators on the side whirring with each breath. The goggles covering his eyes illuminated with a dim light, flashing with static in each lens. It looked up at David Rosen with an empty disinterest. "Rosen, you... you trapped me in the white hell. You did this to me and to this man." It spoke with a hoarse roughness, the evident result from many hours screaming with no end. It took one step forward towards David, holding out its arm in an accusatory point of its finger. "Oh no." The creature formerly known as Dr. Fern rushes forward to the Technical Researcher, and is met with an abrupt tackle to the floor by a trenchcoat sporting man with greased back brown hair. "Wow. Nice move" Rosen steps back as the man restrains the possessed doctor. "Who are you?" "Detective Argent Hollister. I'm on loan from the Investigations Department to work with this man here on a SCP retrieval case. Who are you?" "Technical Researcher David Rosen. Your friend here emailed me about what I'm assuming caused this. Let's get him into a cell and call research and containment to come take a look at him." "Good plan. I doubt he's a real threat, but it's better safe than sorry." Detective Hollister rises to his feet, pulling Dr. Fern up with him. "Hopefully they can bring him back to his normal self, I need his help." "This is the Foundation, anything is possible... Maybe." 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