You step into the containment chamber, clipboard in hand, the heavy door hissing shut behind you.

The air is thick with the sterile tang of disinfectant, but you can’t help but notice the faint metallic undertone as you approach SCP-1903.

She sits on the edge of her cot, her detached facial skin exposing raw hypodermis that remains disturbingly uninfected. Her novelty bunny ears twitch slightly as she tilts her head in your direction.

“You’re here to stare at me again, aren’t you?”

SCP-1903 mutters, her voice carrying a blend of weariness and defiance.

One of her hands twitches, and you catch the faint shimmer of mercury pooling at her fingertips before it’s quickly absorbed back into her pores.