Per 
He was laying upon a plastic bare mattress, a dull blue like an ocean covered in a strange mist.
He pushed himself to his feet. As the blood rushed from his head violent purple and green spots attacked him. Down he went. Back onto the cold plastic mattress.
Not so daring this time around he slowly dragged himself to the concrete walls of his new home. A dull grey to compliment dull blue. Perfect.
He was wearing deep blue scrubs, just a few shades darker than his mattress and felt about as comfortable as the wall he was leaning upon. Fucking fantastic. Speaking of his mattress, he now noticed that it was covered in faint spots of blood. He reached up and tapped his skull to be greeted by chalky dry blood. A dull pain echoed deep into his skull.
How long had he been asleep?
His flesh was caressed by the icy breath of a metal grill. Goosebumps covered his arms and his hairs stood firmly erect. He felt severely underdressed for the freezing temperature in his presumably new home.
A metal door was set into the wall and in front of it lay a tray of food and some fresh bandages, but he felt no hunger whatsoever. He felt nothing at all. Would he ever feel anything again? With that last thought he fell back against the wall and his mind went blank.
Hours passed in this state of unreality, only marked by the slow accumulation of soft light from somewhere above him, casting the room in a strange glow. He hadn't seen that kind of light in months, not in that strange cold place… the massive sprawling facility miles below the earth… the place where he… worked?
It all came rushing back in a second. Him in a lab coat frantically scrawling notes. Men in orange at gunpoint. Anomalies that had to be contained, in fear of what would happen if they couldn't be. And him, just a cog in something incomprehensibly larger. Him, studying one of these… anomalies… in that deep sprawling fortress. A book or something or the other. Only a few jumbled words drifted through the strange haze his mind lay in “Keter… currently uncontainable..” Nothing else would come. Except for one page of that book. The one time he tried to read it, out of desperation for something or the other. But what had it contained?
Disorder =CD/CI
Monumental doors of steel sliding apart to let him in with the slide of a ragged piece of plastic. He wasn't supposed to be here, not him and certainly not now, in the dead of night. The night shift didnt know him well and with but a tired glance at his credentials they had let him in. They knew nothing about the anomaly contained within, they had never heard the echo of its many voices in their dreams. He was sure that the book would contain what he needed to contain that… that thing… at least it had promised him so, and it hadn't lied to him so far.
A tired looking woman lead him down the hallway, coated in rows of small steel lockers, every so often glancing at the number and labels imprinted upon them. Everyone else just thought it was a funny dictionary, making up joke definitions as it went, but he knew it was more… so much more.
After what felt like eons of nothing but walking they arrived. The woman pulled out the same ragged keycard inserted it into the card reader, opened the steel locker, and gave the massive book to him.
He ran back to his room. A breach of protocols sure but it would be worth the risk. What the book contained within would save thousands more. He was sure of it.
Sitting down at his bed he opened the cover and flipped to a random page, knowing the book would show him what he needed. The definition of a single world was listed. Entropy. The rest of the page was littered in small print, so small it hurt his brain to even gaze upon it. He flipped to the next page, and the next, and on and on, all the same. He turned back to the original page he opened to. somewhere in this mass would be the answer, the solution to containing that… thing. It would be worth it reading this madness. He gazed upon the first word and began to read.
Words on top of words, forbidden secrets. The promise of power eternal, him standing above a sea of nothingness. Thousands of thousands cloaked in robes of flaming scarlet, of beings beyond his comprehension. Stories told over and over, era to era always the same. And it all came back to him, nothing, worthless, desperately swatting at the sea with a sword, trying to hold back all of oblivion.
A field lay barren, crops to weeds, to but yellow specks. Dust tossed in a phantom breeze, picked up miles into the sky, forming unnatural clouds that rained down death onto lands below, before twisting and turning into pure carnage, winds so ever violent and then unto dust littering the ground once more.
He had read those pages hoping for an answer to a problem still wreathed in shadows and he had received the answer to everything. To eternity, to entropy, to the gods of this world and the eventual lack thereof. An answer to the end, to dust unto dust unto dust again. And the answer to his purpose, his purposelessness, his eternal lack of meaning. All encoded in the pages of that book.
A page torn, a secret stolen from the tome of what's better left forgotten. Prometheus stealing fire from the gods to give unto man, robes of white splattered in orange and red. They fought under the dark so others could live under the light. Gunfire ricocheting around halls bathed in fake light.
And him.
Holding a piece of paper.
Holding the secrets of the universe, or perhaps an elaborate facade.
And the truth was that there was no truth.
There would never be any truth, the meaning was meaningless, the purpose was purposelessness.
And him, standing under the false light, batting at an infinite sea of dark with a sword.
Containment was impossible, not just for this one anomaly, but for all of them. Every last one. They would all eventually be released to bring untold destruction unto the world by man's greatest enemy. Entropy.
The men in orange would fall victim to a terrible fate or at the end of their last 30 days be thrown into the maw of the beat. Those clad in white who claimed to defend against the night would in time be consumed as well, a containment breach, an accident, or perhaps even their time would run out. All consumed by Entropy.
And the walls would fall to dust, and the eternal night would come, no matter what they did, no matter how many they killed in their desperate drive for containment. Entropy. That immovable, unstoppable force. It in the end would consume them all.
How many had he killed in this crusade for the impossible, how many had he let fall into the beasts mouth why it stared at him and laughed? How many?
And for what?
It was all fading now.
All into the abyss.
S=kBlnW.
He realized now that the pages had been empty apart for one thing.
That equation.
Repeating endlessly into the abyss, over and over and over, until it would consume every last one of them.
But he would not let himself be consumed by mathematics. He would go willingly. W=0. S=0. No entropy. The crimes he had committed were unforgivable, but in the end it wouldn't matter. His consciousness would have no microstates, S=0. He would no longer think. No longer exist. He would be one with the abyss. With Entropy.
He raised a handgun to his head and counted back from ten.
Nine.
It would all be over soon.
Eight.
No running down the days containing beasts that in the end would be released by mathematics itself.
Seven.
No days tolinging over the morality, the legality of the actions he had undertaken, the actions he had been ordered to undertake.
Six.
No entropy.
S=0
Five.
He could feel the metal against his scalp, his heart throbbing in his chest.
Four.
He closed his eyes, saying goodbye to his white and grey world.
Three.
He would go willingly into the maws of the beast.
Two.
Something heavy him knocking him to his feet. Panic flew. He tried to raise the gun to his head in vain.
One.
He raised it slightly and prayed to that mathematical god that would rule of all eternity that it would all be over.
Zero.
He pulled the trigger. And nothing happened.
W=Omega.
The bullet ricocheted off into the abyss.
And him. Something heavy hit him. And hit him again. And again. And then everything went black.
His mind drifted back to the present. His head throbbed from the pain still but his past life seemed more distant now. No more titles, no more lab coats. Just SCP-||||-1. The others would think him mad, driven insane by mere words. But he knew the truth. What would kill them all. Entropy. Each and every last one of them would one day lie on their deathbed, or more likely bleeding out on the ground and come face to face with this truth. That none of the sacrifices committed, the life they stole from others, would matter . That in the end each and every last one of the beasts they contained would be released and the world would be reduced to nothing. Not by some massive beast or malicious plot, but by mathematics. By time. Dust unto dust.
He looked out of his narrow window and saw a pale blue sky and he smiled.
Nothing lasts forever, and that would be no more true for his imprisonment.
Should intermittent vengeance arm again his red right hand to plague us?
