doctor_roswell's tales and notes

Introduction & Roswell Constant Notes

Name: Finley Roswell
Nickname: "Finny" "Area 42"
Age: 29
Skin: pale and a little washed-out from excessive monitor use
Hair Color: brown with stress-bleached patch in left side of hairline
Everyday Hairstyle: undercut with bedhead fringe
Eye Color: grey
Freckles, Mole, or Scars: freckles, scar on leg from accident while with the White Rabbits

Positive Traits: determined,
Negative Traits:
Motivation: advancement of knowledge and continued survival of the human race
Fears: failure, being followed, claustrophobia
Subconscious Movements/Habits:
Nervous Tics:

Relationship with Parents: not in extensive contact, but has a good relationship
Sibling(s): one older sister, one younger brother
Sexuality: no romance, only RESEARCH
Gender: Agender
Pet(s): None - yet.

Weapons: doesn't normally carry them, but is proficient in most standard Foundation-issued weapons and combat training thanks to time spent in MTF, as well as own combat practice on break
Codename:
Outfit: black t-shirt/muscle tank, jeans/army pants, labcoat/leather jacket, combat boots

Backstory:

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Friendly/Useful/Helpful SCPs:

• SCP-005 (The Key)
• SCP-073 (Cain)
• SCP-131 (Eye Pods)
• SCP-187 (Double Vision)
• SCP-191 (Cyborg Child)
• SCP-294 (Coffee Machine)
• SCP-343 (God)
• SCP-348 (A Gift From Dad)
• SCP-458 (Pizza Box)
• SCP-500 (Panacea)
• SCP-662 (Butler's Bell)
• SCP-914 (The Clockworks)
• SCP-999 (Tickle Monster)
• SCP-1166 (Perfect Lab Specimen)
• SCP-1553 (Shadow Paint)
• SCP-1571 (Keeper of Treasures)
• SCP-2295 (Patchwork Bear)
• SCP-2332 (Light Butterfly)

Day Has Broken: Day 173

The Statue wanders alone, at the end of a world. Maybe not alone in the most general sense, but emotions like loneliness are meaningless to a creature made of concrete.

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Concrete, as a rule, does not melt like flesh does.

Much like the rocks and stones and crumbling buildings of the wasteland it finds itself in, it stays, waiting. It doesn't really know what it's waiting for, only that it hasn't come along yet, and it's getting kind of… bored.

So, on the fifty-seventh day of waiting, it gives a little scrape of hesitation, before it turns toward the door.

—

The melting flesh creatures it meets on its way through the gates gibber and howl like the ones it used to know, the ones that had kept it locked up. They make no sound as it snaps what is left of their bones, however.

Supremely unsatisfying. No crunch. No screaming, either. Just squish.

No repetitive sounds of weapons or little creatures running.

It's oddly quiet, disregarding the gibbering from the flesh mounds. Which is already strange. Normally there would be no more sound after the crunch, but they continue to groan, messy sounds that echo the old creatures that ran in terror or shot little pellets.

It turns its back, and makes its way through the break in the wall.

The Statue is free.

—

Why does the fire in the sky burn so bright?

The Roswell Constant: The Site-19 Incident

Sometimes, fate rips the velcro tabs of reality right open so that you can help yourself when it matters most.

Finley Roswell is not alone.

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