Qya

The DM describes the environment.
The players describe what they want to do.
The DM narrates the results of the adventurers’ actions.
That is the power of the dungeon master.
I can sneak right past security, Slip poison into the site directors coffee machine, Slip out without leaving a trace.
But what if somebody does see me?
Thats what amnestics are for.
The foundation switched to an easy, Non-anomalous easy-to-reproduce amnestic. So of course, I had to steal the recipe.

I hear a footstep around the corner. I take out my Class-F amnestic needle and clench it tightly. The leather on my gloves warm against the plastic. An armed guard walks right past me. I sneak behind and in the blink of an eye, His keycard is gone. Doesn't even notice.
Poor guy.
He's gonna get stuck in this corridor with no way out.
I walk across the corridor and into the site directors office.
Time to have some fun.
I slip a mix of amnestics and slime from SCP-999 into his coffee mug. The mix melts into the cup before you can spot it.
"Can I help you?"

I feel a gun pressed against my back.
That. . . isn't the insurgency. . .