Link to article: Shitty Morning.
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[[include :scp-wiki:theme:dark]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] It was 10:03 AM when the Administrator, the enigmatic figure at the top of the Foundation, sprinted down the pristine hallways of Site-01. No one dared to stop him. They thought he was on a mission, as he often seemed to be. This was the Administrator after all, the boss among bosses, the one who could bend the O5 Council to his will with a single raised eyebrow. If he was running, there had to be a world ending reason behind it. However, on that day, the truth was very different. Two hours prior, the Administrator had enjoyed something from the Site’s cafeteria, what he would later describe as "an Apollyon class breakfast burrito." By the time the first cramps hit, he dismissed it as stress. By the second wave, he was canceling meetings with O5s citing "urgent matters requiring immediate attention," which was technically not a lie. By the third, all sense of protocol had shattered. In an impressive show of speed for someone known more for his administrative prowess than his athletic ability, the Administrator abandoned everything to dash for the nearest restroom. But as fate would have it, the labyrinthine corridors of Site-01 offered no quick relief. And now, here he was, crouched behind a potted plant in a corridor, with parts of his legendary brown overcoat darker in color due to a containment breach in the lower end of his digestive system. Another cramp hit. The Administrator's jaw clenched. In his decades of service, he had authorized countless termination orders, approved experimental procedures that violated several laws of physics, but nothing had prepared him for this. He briefly considered declaring his digestive system an anomaly and having it surgically removed for containment. The thought was almost tempting, but the paperwork would be a nightmare. The potted plant wouldn't provide cover forever. He needed a plan. The nearest bathroom was two corridors away, past a main security checkpoint, and right next to the weekly meeting room of the Ethics Committee which offered an embarrassing potential audience. This was too risky. Instead, he decided to make a break for his office where he kept a change of clothes for emergencies. Though, when he prepared that contingency, he was thinking more along the lines of coffee stains; and although the color is similar, his current condition was way more damaging for personal dignity. ------ He risked a glance around the corridor with his neck craning out from behind the plant like a cautious giraffe surveying the savanna. It was momentarily clear; no guards, no researchers, no nosey containment specialists. Clutching the edges of his brown coat in a stealth mission, the Administrator scurried from behind the plant. "At least my luck seems to be turning," he thought. "At least the path to the office seems to be clear." He had a glimpse of hope. But if there was one universal truth about Site-01, it was that something would inevitably go wrong whenever the Administrator really, really needed a moment of privacy. And sure enough; //BWAAAAP!// A harsh siren erupted across the facility, accompanied by flashing red lights. An automated voice cut through the silence. "Alert! Containment breach in Sector-6. All personnel, please proceed to the nearest evacuation route." The Administrator froze, torn between cursing fate, cursing the burrito, cursing the cafeteria staff, and cursing whatever cosmic deity decided that ironically timed alarms were a necessity. His internal monologue of profanity was interrupted by the sight of a fully armed Alpha-1 squad around the corner. If he looked pathetic before, now he looked downright pitiful; clinging to his coat like a security blanket and desperately trying to avoid eye contact with some of the most highly trained agents in the Foundation. Leading the Alpha-1 squad was Commander Greaves, a man whose tactical vest had more pockets than some countries had soldiers. His gaze locked immediately on the Administrator with the kind of intensity usually reserved for particularly dangerous anomalies. The Administrator knew the standard protocol: if there’s a breach, the VIPs like him get whisked away to safe rooms. Great news for him under any other circumstance. Not so great when his laundry situation was still in a questionable state and the safe rooms were lacking in both spare pants and air freshener. The Alpha-1 squad was coming closer. He briefly thought about running for a few seconds, but his office laid before that corridor, and running meant getting away from safety. "Sir!" Commander Greaves' voice boomed across the corridor. "We need to get you to safety, now! Please follow us." The Administrator briefly evaluated his options; saying he fell down onto a used coffee grounds might explain the color of his coat and pants, but wouldn't do much to explain the smell. Saying the plumbing had failed due to an issue with the sewers at the exact same time could explain both, but sounded extremely implausible. "Greaves, I have a situation." he said, admitting defeat. "I need to go to my office first." "Sir, there's a containment breach! It's not safe." Greaves responded with his loud and serious voice, with his nose sniffing the air for an unexpected foul smell at the same time. ------ Before they could finish their dialogue, a horde of researchers, an evacuation squad, poured through the hallways behind them. The Administrator felt his pulse spike again, thinking how much worse could this day possibly get. He immediately regretted this thought, knowing the universe's tendency to treat such questions as challenges. By that time, Greaves' eyes had slowly moved towards the lower end of the Administrator's coat. His brows shot up, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as if he’d swallowed a bitter pill. Then he drew a slow breath before quickly regaining his usual serious posture. The evacuation squad was coming closer now. Suddenly, Greaves raised his rifle and pointed it towards the Administrator. "The escaped anomaly is impersonating the Administrator!" he shouted. In that split second, the Administrator’s heart plummeted like an anvil in a cartoon, as it seemed like the universe did treat his previous thought as a challenge and decided to accept it. "What the fuck?!" he blurted, too stunned to say anything meaningful. The evacuating staff members pressed themselves to the walls in order to avoid the line of fire while watching the scene unfold with widened eyes. "Secure the entity! We'll take it back to its containment cell!" Greaves ordered to his team. An agent reluctantly took out his handcuffs, while two other agents held the Administrator, trying very hard to find a spot on his coat that wasn't compromised. "Greaves, how dare you! You traitorous dog!" The Administrator's focus had completely shifted, forgetting about his situation entirely. "You found a perfect moment and made your move, didn't you? This is a coup attempt! Who's behind this? Who's holding your leash, you bitch!?" The Administrator continued his yelling, while being taken away by the Alpha-1 squad, with the evacuating staff observing the scene with disbelief. ------ "It was Four, right? That bastard! I knew he always wanted to rule the Foundation himself!" The Administrator was still yelling as the team took him to an empty containment chamber. Greaves quickly shut the door behind them, and turned around to the team members. "Is there any cameras in this room?" he asked with an unnaturally calm voice, while trying to observe the corners of the chamber. After getting a negative response, he took out the keys to the handcuffs, and removed them from the Administrator with precision. "Sir," Greaves began, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His gaze turned downward. "I’m sorry. There was no time, this was the best I could come up with." The Administrator blinked, struggling to piece together what had just happened. The mention of "sir" threw him off. Was this some bizarre hallucination brought on by the spiciness of that burrito? He turned to Greaves, both as an attempt to speak face to face, and as an instinct to hide the mess in his back. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but nothing came out. "We'll tell everyone it was a shape shifting anomaly that escaped, and the real Administrator was already in a secure room." The Administrator’s eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Greaves without blinking. For a moment, silence hung between them. Then his sharp voice broke through, "You… you framed me for my own containment?!" Greaves allowed himself the smallest of smirks. "I had to save your ass, sir. Literally. No one will question why the 'Administrator' in the corridor smelled like a Class-A biohazard or looked half out of his mind. Everyone will assume it was the anomaly all along." For a moment, the Administrator could only stand there, staring at Greaves. Then he let out a slow, weary sigh and ran a hand down his face. "Good… good thinking," the Administrator muttered finally. He studied Greaves a moment. "And, uh… let’s keep the part about me blaming O5-4 between us, yes?" "Of course, sir," Greaves nodded, sounding deeply proud that he had managed to salvage the Administrator’s day, even if that day was, to put it mildly, a literal pile of shit. The burrito, meanwhile, was quickly and permanently removed from the cafeteria menu. Some things, after all, were too dangerous even for the Foundation. 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