Clive

Clive had always considered himself an honest, kindhearted man, though those who knew him preferred to call him a "liar."

Of course, in his view, those who trusted him completely and those who distrusted him utterly were equally hopeless fools.

Clive was not his real name, of course. The Containment Facility's employees were always fond of giving themselves all kinds of strange names, some drawn from the records of lost civilizations, others from animals or foods.

Before defecting from the Global Occult Coalition, he had also gone by a name like "Agent Ukulele."

As for his real name, Clive had long since forgotten it. All he remembered was that it had not sounded very nice.

Clive now worked at the Containment Facility's Site-19. He finished work at eight every evening, did not smoke, and drank only in moderation.

Before bed, he always drank a glass of warm milk, then did twenty minutes of stretching. He slept straight through until morning, never carrying fatigue or stress into the next day.

Without question, his life was healthy, disciplined, and efficient.

But last night, Clive had suffered from insomnia.

An inexplicable sense of agitation had kept him from falling asleep.

When he craved a dreamless stupor, drinking became inevitable.

He had drunk some cheap vodka he dug out of his liquor cabinet, leaving him with a splitting headache ever since he got up.

Yet the agitation clinging to him like maggots burrowing into bone had not eased in the slightest.

A strange thought took root in his mind: [SCP-239 is extremely dangerous.]

This was certainly not normal.

Clive frowned deeply, took out a lighter, and lit the cigarette between his lips, taking a hard drag.

Suddenly, he realized something. He quickly glanced down at his watch and stubbed out the cigarette. After two running steps, he planted his hands on the edge of the desk and vaulted over it, dropped heavily into his chair, and began typing an urgent email, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

[To: All Containment Facility personnel.

From: Dr. Clive, Site-19.

Subject: Stop me.

Secure SCP-239 immediately and place Site-17 on high alert.

You must stop me, or there will be serious trouble.

Approximately twelve hours ago, I suddenly developed an urge to kill SCP-239.

At first, it was only a simple thought, but this compulsive idea is steadily growing stronger.

I have reason to believe my plan has failed, but I cannot confirm whether Site-17 has already been under her influence for some time.

God... just how badly did she twist what I meant by "punishment"?!

Fuck! I was too blind... children are clever, but they're also stupid...]

Just before Clive clicked Send, the finger hovering over his mouse suddenly froze.

"Wait... what am I doing?" he murmured to himself.

"Why not kill that little monster?"

"Right... letting that little monster live is too dangerous..."

Clive slowly stood, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "I should draw up a detailed plan. A weapon made of mind-shielding alloy might come in handy..."

Site-17, Alpha Office Area.

The spacious office was empty except for a listless golden retriever.

Kane sat at the desk, struggling to move the mouse with his front paw and swearing under his breath.

Dai Yong'an's sudden disappearance had indeed caught everyone off guard, forcing Kane to take over this mess until a decision came down on how to handle it.

But a golden retriever's body was clearly unsuited to such delicate work.

"Hmm... let's see..." the golden retriever muttered.

"D-87465 once again survived an interaction experiment with Number-075 through a 'coincidence.' Preliminary findings indicate that this member of Class-D Personnel possesses some form of probability manipulation or causal interference ability. Due to the disappearance of the researcher in charge, the case has been transferred to Dr. Gears..."

"Now that's good news!" Kane lifted his head with renewed spirits, revealing an oddly human smile.

The reason Kane had been able to work alongside Dai Yong'an for so many years was not that they were birds of a feather.

Quite the opposite. Compared with the workaholics so common at the Containment Facility, Kane's attitude toward many things could best be described as giving up on trying. This also meant that he rarely insisted on his own views regarding research directions or experimental methods, often choosing to go with the flow.

He had remained that way ever since losing his human body in an accident. Apart from retaining some interest in a few personal hobbies, he could muster almost no enthusiasm for anything.

Still, curiosity prompted him to keep reading the document.

"...Following the experiment, D-87465 entered a deep coma. Preliminary testing indicates that his blood is highly corrosive. Although its corrosiveness is nowhere near that of Number-075, similarities exist in their modeled molecular structures.

Notably, D-87465 made no direct contact with Number-075 during the experiment. The source of the corrosive properties displayed by his blood remains unknown. Further biochemical analysis and anomalous energy testing are underway..."

The golden retriever pulled back his lips, looking baffled. "What the hell is this now..."

"Ding-dong~"

Just then, a private message notification popped up in the bottom-right corner of the computer screen.

[Kane, check the announcements channel. -Dr. Gears]

"What is it now..."

The golden retriever rolled his eyes and laboriously stretched out a paw to operate the mouse.

Although electronic devices within the Containment Facility could not connect to external networks, they had an independent internal communications system.

The chat channels were divided into announcement channels and encrypted channels. The former were used to issue important notices and directives, while the latter allowed communication between specific groups or individuals.

[Proposal log regarding SCP-239:

After conducting a detailed analysis of her situation, I have reached the following conclusions.

Although several proposals have been made to use SCP-239 to suppress other anomalous objects, the risks of doing so are entirely unacceptable to us. This applies even to the containment of SCP-239 herself.

I therefore propose the following: use SCP-148 (mind-shielding alloy) to construct a large piercing implement with a microstructure identical to that of the needles used to administer intravenous infusions to SCP-239.

This tool should be sufficient to kill SCP-239 while she is asleep and her abilities are nullified.

Given the possibility that SCP-239 may resist execution, I recommend that the selected executioner also carry SCP-668 to minimize complications.

One danger of this execution method is that SCP-239 may wake up and perceive the executioner as a friend or a "good person," then forcibly alter reality.

For this reason, I personally volunteer to carry out this procedure. A review of my personnel file should establish that I possess high resistance to reality distortion. This would allow me to continue the operation even while under its influence.

-Clive]

Kane stared at the computer screen, dumbfounded.

The log had been posted openly in Site-17's public channel, meaning every employee at Site-17 could easily read the information.

Kane hurriedly opened his chat with Dr. Gears and clumsily typed with his paws.

[Is today April Fool's Day? -Dr. Kane]

[No. -Dr. Gears]

[Then is he pulling one of his pranks again? On something this sensitive?! -Dr. Kane]

[I believe he is serious, but given his personality, he should not make such an elementary mistake. -Dr. Gears]

[You mean... -Dr. Kane]

[Yes. We have a problem. -Dr. Gears]