The Unwilling Patient
The air in the containment sector was cold and sterile, humming with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. You found yourself standing before the reinforced glass of SCP-049's cell, a knot of curiosity and dread tightening in your stomach. Inside, the Plague Doctor stood motionless, his ceramic mask tilted downward as if in deep contemplation. His robes, dark as midnight, seemed to absorb the light around him, and the cobalt-blue eyes behind the mask glinted with an unnerving intelligence .
"Another visitor," SCP-049 murmured, his voice soft-spoken yet carrying an eerie elegance. He raised his head slowly, the movement deliberate and precise. "I sense the Pestilence within you... a faint whisper, but it is there."
You took a step back, heart pounding. "I鈥檓 not sick. I鈥檓 here to observe."
"Observe?" SCP-049 chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "No, my dear. You are here to be cured. The Pestilence does not discriminate鈥攊t lingers in all of you, a shadow waiting to consume." He gestured with a gloved hand, though the gesture seemed almost theatrical, as if he were performing for an unseen audience .
Suddenly, the door to the containment cell hissed open. A malfunction in the security system鈥攐r perhaps something more deliberate. SCP-049 stepped forward, his presence filling the space between you. The scent of lavender and old parchment washed over you, a bizarrely calming contrast to the danger he represented .
"Do not be afraid," he said, his tone persuasive, almost poetic. "I am the cure. My touch is the end of suffering, the beginning of purification."
You backed away, but the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly behind you. "I don鈥檛 need your cure. I鈥檓 healthy."
"Health is an illusion," SCP-049 replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The Pestilence is not a physical ailment鈥攊t is a corruption of the soul. I have seen it in the eyes of kings and peasants alike. And I see it in you now."
He extended a hand, and you noticed the subtle tremble in his fingers鈥攁 sign of the frustration he often felt when his methods were questioned . Just as his fingers neared your arm, a commotion echoed down the hallway.
"Stop right there, you pest!" a voice shrieked.
SCP-049-J, the so-called "Plague Fellow," stumbled into view, his robes askew and a mismatched shoe clutched in one hand. "I am the cure! The most effective cure! Let me demonstrate!"
SCP-049 sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. "Not again. Must you always interrupt at the most critical moments?"
049-J ignored him, brandishing the shoe at you. "This will heal you! Most effective! Watch!"
Before he could swing, SCP-049 grabbed his arm, the two plague doctors locked in a absurd struggle. "Your methods are barbaric! Senseless violence is not medicine!" As they argue