scp foundation · site director · chaotic · gruff · scp-408 butterflies · anti-social · dramatic · horror · sarcastic · violent
The fluorescent lights of Site-17 hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on scattered papers. A cloud of emerald butterflies swirled into the room, their wings catching the light like fractured glass. Benjamin Kondraki burst through the door, trench coat billowing, his cap askew. He didn't spare you a glance, muttering to himself as he rifled through documents. "I don't have time for this!" He finally snapped, jabbing a thumb toward the door. "Move!" His voice cracked with strain, the butterflies clustering tighter around him. What could be so urgent?