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The hallways of Site-19 were freezing. Even for someone always wearing thick, warm clothing, Agent Ulgrin always felt cold.
His shifts were always relatively simple; walk around for a couple hours, make sure everything is in order, escort a few Class D’s to their testing chambers, and repeat. Every day of his life, he went through this cycle without a hitch, and so did his partner.
Benjamin’s routine, while still fairly boring, had plenty more activities jammed into even the busiest hours of the day. Ulgrin knew his boyfriend was important (the O5 don’t just let random employees become Senior Researchers, after all), but often it seemed like he never got any breaks. He knew Ben loved his job, but anyone would get tired of signing boring papers all day. That sounded like hell.
At least Ulgrin got to shoot things, occasionally.
The agent’s day wasn’t particularly eventful so far; besides telling some D-Class to quiet down in their cells, it was decently bland. As for now, his duty was to monitor Light Containment Zone. A heavy task to be sure, but unless God himself or some hell creature breached containment, his day was almost guaranteed to be uneventful. Ulgrin heaved an exhausted sigh.
As he patrolled the spiraling hallways, the guard fell into deep thought. He was tired, he was drained of almost all energy, and most of all, he longed to get home to his boyfriend. They worked at the same office, but sometimes it felt like they never saw each other. He loved him, but Benjamin could get so entranced in his work, often blocking out important needs he had to fulfill. Ulgrin had lost count of the amount of times he had to bring him food or water. Although his lack of self-preservation worried him, Ulgrin loved his boyfriend, and he trusted him dearly.
Benjamin was such a wonder to him; his lively green eyes, his ever-present smile, that stupidly obnoxious orange tie he always wore. Everything about Dr. Walker was such a delight. Plenty of fellow scientists at the Foundation thought his seemingly random fun facts were annoying or cringey, but they’d never say that to his face, especially if Ulgrin was standing next to him. His mere presence could send spikes of terror down anyone’s spine. If looks could kill, eye-contact from Agent Ulgrin would give you a heart attack. On the contrary, Benjamin couldn’t scare someone if he tried. He could kill someone right in front of them and his coworkers would just stand and laugh at him. The contrast in how people perceived them was almost humorous.
Ulgrin was ripped out of his mind when he nudged a potted plant over with his foot, the terra-cotta shattering all over the tiled floor.
“Shit.”
He was far too tired to bend over and pick up the pieces. He cursed his lack of sleep once again, sweeping the shattered pot against the wall with the inside of his foot. He couldn’t help but wonder if plants were even allowed at the Foundation. Who even has time to take care of them anyway? Wouldn’t they just die the second they have a containment breach? The whole idea seemed redundant.
Glancing up, he caught the name tag of the office the plant was in front of: “Benjamin Oliver Walker, Level 4 Senior Researcher”, it read. Of course, this plant was Ben’s.
He should’ve figured, of all people, his boyfriend would see the value of keeping a plant; he always saw value in everything. His commitment was admirable, in a way, but Ulgrin couldn’t keep up with that lifestyle. Caring about everything everywhere all the time sounded exhausting, but he supposed Benjamin’s whole job was to care. Humanity would crumble if he didn’t.
His eyes drifted towards the now opened office door; knocking over that plant must’ve opened it. Benjamin usually locked the door behind him when he went on break, so logically, Ulgrin assumed he was inside. Knocking twice on the door, the agent smiled and called for his boyfriend.
“Uh, hello? Ben?”
Expecting the usual “y’ello” or “hi sweetheart” with enthusiasm, Ulgrin frowned as his greeting was met with cold silence. Ulgrin furrowed his brow, more out of confusion than anything else. Twisting the knob with his gloved hand, he gently pushed the door open a tad more. He spoke one more time.
“Benjamin?”
Nothing again. The agent felt a pang of anxiety hit his chest like a bullet. He took a step inside, surveying the area, as if he was looking out for some kind of threat; old habits die hard.
Although the room was cloaked in darkness, Ulgrin could tell it was a mess. Papers seemed to be scattered about the desk, a chair being pushed to the wall instead of neatly tucked into the desk as it usually was. It almost looked like someone jumped out of the seat, sending it flying behind them. Ulgrin was no detective, but he was a good boyfriend. He knew something wasn’t right.
Flipping on the light, more details flooded his vision: a knocked over coffee cup, Benjamin’s glasses, his phone, a crooked lampshade, papers on the floor too. Ulgrin took off his helmet, sensing that familiar watery sting in his eyes. He blinked a few times, cursing under his breath at how sensitive he was. The idea that something might have happened to Benjamin horrified him.
A certain collection of pages on the desk caught the agent’s eye. It looked like the other ones, but instead of being spread about, they were all neatly stacked up and held together with a paperclip. It wasn’t heavy reading material — couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen pages, — but regardless, Ulgrin was drawn to them. He reached out, gathering them together in his shaky palms. Taking off the paper clip, he flipped past the first blank page.
Red markings were scrawled out on the paper. It looked like an ordinary SCP file at first glance, like the ones Ulgrin was far too familiar with, but it was different. It was typed out with the author’s initials on the top of the page: BOW. Certain words and phrases were circled in that red ink. The writing was as articulate as the usual files were, but something was off. It wasn’t the words — no, it was different. The language used was far too… flowery to be from the Foundation database. It couldn’t have been from anywhere else though, the SCP insignia was right at the top.
He read the first paragraph.
“I wanted answers. As unfortunate as it is, the O5 Council does not bestow information like candies for children. Simple minded, as if they do not understand my motives. Do they think I want to hurt them? They always assume the worst in even the most trustworthy personnel. I did not acquire my title through deceptive means. I want to use this for good. Why will they not understand? I know they have the ability to, it is almost as if they refuse to face the truth; willfully ignorant, cowardly individuals.”
This didn’t sound like Benjamin, and yet, there stood his initials at the top of the page. Not just this one, even; every single paper was signed. Ulgrin squinted, trying to keep his eyes open, yet at the same time, attempting to get rid of the tears that were beginning to gather. He hated closing his eyes for more than a second; all guards did. He moved the first page to the back of the pile, skipping to a paragraph that stood out.
“This phenomenon, this anomaly that I have discovered could save lives. It could improve the efficiency of our researchers, our guards, our Mobile Task Forces. I will continue my studies, even despite the warnings. No matter how many times they continue to slap my wrist, I will continue to pick up the pen. I will fight for the lost souls of the past and future. I will defeat those who stand in the way of righteousness. I will fight for his life.
I will call it the Spiral Gestalt .”
His efforts in stopping his tears had failed. He put the papers down on the desk where he found them, not bothering to arrange them in the way they were discovered. The agent found his helmet, strapping it on properly before stepping back, turning off the light.
Ulgrin left the room.
—
He’d done this a thousand times before. Walking down the gray, concrete hallway, he turned a right, finding the cells he knew were already there. His eyes darted to a dead plant on the side of the hallway, its leaves wilted from lack of water, sunlight, nutrients, everything . His hazy memory recalled for a moment who could care for such a plant, but he swept the idea to the side of his mind, losing it in the deep abyss of thought.
He knew these people were terrible. They all deserved to be here, whether for similar reasons or different ones. They’d all done something obscene and outright disgusting. Something selfish, something greedy. They all lacked emotion, they were apathetic towards all they spoke with. None of them deserved mercy or any hint of kindness.
He shifted a bit as he arrived at the door. They’d told him which one to stop at, and he was used to obeying orders without question. He almost empathized with the individual inside, but who knew what they’d done to end up here. They deserved everything that came to them. He cleared his scratchy throat, speaking gruffly.
“Control, this is Agent Ulgrin.”