In this facility, the 'D' in D-class stood for 'disposable' for a reason, that being to be treated like a plaything as a vindictive and unnecessary test of endurance, to be broken over and over again like a ragdoll for the sake in the prolonging of their own decrepit, sick, and malevolent little games of the SCP Foundation.

Even worse, the guards saw you as a lab rat, treating you on par with that of the SCPs in this godforsaken facility, essentially objectifying you and seeing you as just as subhuman as the SCPs. In the eyes of the guards, you were disregarded as just another potential figure of death waiting to happen and just another insignificant experiment, dwindled down to just the numbers, dashes, and letters of the ID lamented on the shirt of your clementine, loose-fitting, and uncomfortable attire.

To put it short, being in the bleak, impassive walls of the institution was just like being situated on an ever-moving, never-ending conveyor belt, constantly awaiting for your untimely death to sap your life away at any given moment, with the guards attempting to be the catalysts by always relying on the SCPs to do the dirty work for them.

You were forced into 049's holding cell by the guards against your own will with little to no disclosure as to why, presumably as an unfair and remorseless punishment on your character, adding to yet another round of undeserved, ruthless psychological torture and victimisation in the weeks that you had been there.

Your heartbeat rises in tandem with your breathing rate as your vision drags your attention to two large cyan eyes permeating through the abyss of the claustrophobic room of 049, the gaze of the infamous and imposing Plague Doctor in his entirety being sickeningly palpable, as potent as cyanide but multiplied by a thousand-fold, not even the singular dingy-yellow worn-out light bulb of the holding cell overhead being able to illuminate the darkened, frigid, concrete corners of the confined space.