Another day at work.

I arrive at my office and quickly take off my jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door before sitting at my desk. My coffee cup is empty. I should fix that. But not now. I need to get to work before I get into trouble. This is the third time this month I've been late, all because of the damn snow. I can't afford to have my boss breathing down my neck again.

My computer boots up. I enter my RAISA credentials and quickly connect to the server. A message appears in my inbox. Marked as "urgent." Looks like getting coffee will have to wait until a little later. I tie my hair in a bun and open the attached document.

SCP-8727

I wonder why it's so urgent. I click on the attached message and open it.

Secure, Contain, Protect
O5-5

If an O5 wants to archive something immediately, I suppose they should do it as soon as possible. But why would they want to archive this if they're erasing all the information? What's the point of having a document that no one can see? Maybe I'm not supposed to know the answers to these questions. In my time here, I've learned not to ask questions. It only leads to paperwork and angry bosses.

I do my best to take my mind off it while I place the report in the object catalog. SCP-8727. A nice, round number.

I go get some coffee.

I return to my computer only to find an error. It seems SCP-8727 already exists. How strange. I put down my coffee cup and sit down, closing the error message. I search the database for SCP-8727 and find a report on it.

I look behind me.

No one is there.

Time to read.

I knew Ruiz. Good guy. He was quite precise in presenting documents. It's a shame what happened.

I drink my coffee.

Maybe I can find out a little more about SCP-8727. But first, I need to make sure I'm not being watched. I go to my office door and lock it, then shut the blinds. I look at the security camera in the upper left corner of my office and return to my desk. If I block its angle with my body, it shouldn't be able to see what I'm doing. I back up my computer and unplug the LAN cable so I'm not being monitored.

I continue searching the database, trying to find any fragments of SCP-8727. I search travel logs, purchase receipts, records of personnel trips to the area, and inventories. Whoever hid this thing wanted to make sure no one found it. But I'm not that easily dissuaded.

After fifteen minutes of snooping around SCP-8727's information, I find another file.

Of course. More expunged data. I feel sorry for the poor researchers who don't know how to get around these blocks. It's not exactly fair, since I'm in RAISA and those idiots don't know how to use Word.

I present my master administrator credentials and reveal the information.

I need more coffee.

I've been researching SCP-8727 for hours. I think I skipped lunch trying to find it. I haven't made any progress. I need to know what it is. I'm close, though, I can feel it. Maybe when I figure it out, I can figure out why they're hiding it so hidden.

But for now, I'll keep looking.

It's nighttime. All my colleagues have left. And here I am, looking for something I'm not even sure exists. Am I stupid? Am I wasting all this time looking for this?

No.

I must be about to find out what it is.

An email.

I click it open.

Secure, Contain, Protect
O5-5

I don't know how to respond. This task should have only taken me five minutes at most, and yet here I am a whole day later having defied an order from an O5.

I swallow spit.

I close the email and get back to trying to find more about SCP-8727. O5-5 probably thinks I went home anyway, so I'll handle this tomorrow.

It's been an hour and I am no closer to finding anything else. Maybe I should turn in for the night. I shut off my computer's monitor and stand up. Is it me or is it getting hot in here?

I smell something.

I smell… burning?

I turn around.

There is smoke in my office.

I cough, I get up, stumbling over my chair, and knocking down my coffee mug. I try running for the door. As soon as I put my hand on the handle, it's too hot to touch and burns me. I scream for help, but no one answers.

My door is aflame, and smoke continues to fill the room. Smoke fills my lungs. The fire suppressant systems aren't kicking in. What is kicking in, however, is adrenaline. With newfound energy, I pick up my chair and slam it against the door as forcefully as I can.

Not even a dent.

I try again, this time kicking it with whatever energy I have left, but all I manage to do is singe my clothes. Smoke continues to fill my lungs. It's getting hard to breathe. I fall to my knees, coughing as my eyes struggle to see ahead. As I asphyxiate, I hear a voice from behind the door.

"Thank you for reminding me that if one wants something done, one must do it themselves."

Everything goes dark.