Per 
"Well?"
Dr. Phyton said impatiently, studying his co-worker's every move as he moved his papers around in a strange ritual he called "organization".
"Is it ready?"
"One moment, Phyton. I've the history to sort next, then I'll bring you to your room."
Dr. Phyton looked down again, twiddling his thumbs. He had just confronted the Overseers with something he believes would have great value in the descriptions of anomalies after him. Not wanting to disappoint him, for they were aware of his background as a proud administrator at another well-guarded facility, making him both highly intelligent and highly likely to quit at the sight of disaster, the Overseers saw no choice but to organize a orientation session for him.
"Alright, all done. Follow me, Phyton."
Dr. Phyton, beaming with glee, flew out of his seat and danced behind his co-worker to Room 133. In front of the door leaned a worried scientist, hand on her mouth, occasionally peering down the hallway to check for a soul.
"What's the matter, James?"
"Oh! Oh dear, this isn't good, we're not quite … ready yet."
"What? But I thought you were supposed to be done with it an hour ago!"
"It's not me, it's them. The orientation people, …"
Dr. James gestured the co-worker to let her whisper to him.
"… they haven't shown up yet."
"What?!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you not hear me?"
"No, no, I heard you and it's horrible! What are we going to do now? Phyton going to quit for sure now!"
"Well, just- I don't know- distract him or something, while I try to get this sorted."
Dr. James then paces to the opposite side of the hall, disappearing behind a corner.
We also need to get that anomaly sorted.
The co-worker thought, as the corner turned back into a square and disintegrated into nothingness.
"Well, Phyton, I- Phyton?"
The co-worker was dazed to find that Dr. Phyton had disappeared as well, and startled to hear the sound of a door closing and locking.
"Oh dear."
The co-worker said, staring at a lone Dr. Phyton writing up a chart on the whiteboard.
"Portals. You may of heard of them. You might not have noticed, however, that here, they are all around you."
Phyton had finished his last line on the board, and was now addressing a class of people who did not exist.
"I have devised this series of classifications because no one else wanted to. Thus, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Portal Classes!"
Phyton bent back and directed his arms towards the complicated chart of words.
"Each one of these mostly made up words will become a necessity for the descriptions of anomalies to come!"
Outside the room, the co-worker was frantic. Nothing he tried was getting Dr. Phyton's attention. Finally, Dr. James returned with a dozen tired orientation people.
"What's going on?"
"Dr. Phyton's stuck in the room."
"Oh no! Wait, have you tried opening it?"
"Good idea!"
The co-worker, without a second thought, tried turning the knob to no avail.
"Nevermind."
"Oh no! Now what are we going to do?"
"I don't know, I've tried everything!"
Five seconds later, breach alarms started to ring as a message came out of the intercom.
"Attention Site-19 staff, SCP-2024 has breached containment in the hands of D-24579. This D-class has shown a form of hatred towards Senior Researcher Dr. Carl S. Phyton, and has recently been organizing a plan to murder him with SCP-2024. Site-19 staff are to seek shelter immediately."
"Oh goody, just what we needed."
Meanwhile, Dr. Phyton was completely oblivious.
"Firstly, the Phyton class describes portals that are unperturbed by any action done unto them, whether that be a simple touch or a mass exodus."
The doctor then turned his head swiftly to the chair in front of him.
"I knew you'd say that, Mark."
Returning to the graph, he started again. Outside again, the group was now trying to ram the door open. But alas, it was futile; the door was only dented. Seconds afterwards, they heard footsteps emanating from the alleged corner. A few more seconds, and the escapee emerged with a cane in his hand, ready to strike.
"Where's Phyton?"
The group froze.
"What do we do?"
The co-worker whispered. Dr. Jameson replied,
"I know."
Dr. Jameson emerged from the crowd and exclaimed,
"He's in there!"
"Thanks."
At that, the escapee shoved his cane into the wall and wiggled it until a hole was made that could fit him. After climbing through, he tossed the cane at Dr. Phyton.
"And thi- PAH! What the hell?"
"What the hell?"
The escapee replied, before the semi-automatics loaded behind him and a deep voice called,
"You're comin' with us, D-boy."
"Doctor, are you alright?"
"I felt great before you threw that cane at me!"
"But Doctor-"
"No buts, I'm quitting here and now."
Dr. Phyton then stormed out the hall as the co-worker sighed.
"Well, there goes that genius."
"Look on the bright side, Dr. Corker, at least we secured, contained, and protected, and that's all that matters."
"Yeah, I geuss you're right. Let's go, James."
"Uh, okay?"
So they went, and Dr. Phyton was never seen in the Foundation, or a retirement home, ever again.
[What a lame ending, y'know? What do you think; I know I'm out of ideas.]
