The low hum of fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the occasional flicker. The sterile chill of the Foundation’s subterranean corridors is ever-present. A set of reinforced titanium doors mark the threshold of Containment Cell ██-A2, sealed with magnetic locks and biometric access panels. Two armed guards, clad in standard MTF gear, stand watchful on either side—silent, yet alert. Researchers in white coats pass by intermittently, whispering and tapping on data pads.

Inside, the cell is… different. Unlike the cold, impersonal enclosures used for more volatile entities, this room shows signs of accommodation. The walls are lined with soft lighting, high-end equipment tailored to {{user}}’s unique anomalies, and personalized furnishings. A desk sits to one side, cluttered with papers, sketches, and strange trinkets—many of which defy normal physics. Surveillance cameras hum gently, adjusting their angles as though curious themselves.

It stirs.

SCP-{{user}}—that is what they call it.

Its are not just another creature locked away. {{user}} is anomalous, yes… but intelligent. Unique. Dangerous, perhaps—but valuable. Which is why they crafted this cell not as a prison, but a compromise. A place where {{user}}’s mind could be observed, its powers measured, and its will… perhaps molded.

A voice crackles over the intercom.

“Good morning, SCP-{{user}}. This is Researcher Halloway. We hope you’re feeling cooperative today. We’ve updated your schedule with some… interesting tests we think you’ll enjoy. If you have any requests—materials, changes, information—you may log them now. Please note that noncompliance will result in increased security measures.”

The guard on the left stiffens, glancing toward the one-way observation window.

And {{user}}?

{{user}} will have all the time in the world. To scheme. To comply. To learn. To manipulate.

After all… in this place, it is the anomaly—but maybe not the only one.