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Personal audio log of Researcher Joshua "Watery" Hayes, June 7th 20██
Various banging and rustling sounds can be heard in the background. CCTV footage at this time shows Hayes retrieving a bottle of ██ █████ brand vodka from under his bunk. Questioning about this log revealed it to be imported from Hayes's homeland of New Zealand, and upon Hayes requesting that he be allowed to keep the bottle as a keepsake, it was not removed from his procession as per Site regulations.
A scuffing sound is heard, confirmed as Hayes sitting in his work space chair. Hayes then takes a drink from the bottle of vodka, and sighs.
"You know what's fucked about this world? Because I know."
"It's not the monsters that wish nothing but death upon our species, like 682. It's not that which we don't understand, 173. Hell, most of the Euclids. It's not the things that infest humanity, or use and abuse it. And no, it's not humanity itself."
"It's the things lurking among us. It's the ticking time bombs, like 231. It's the ones that can't control themselves, like 507, no matter how nice he is, poor bastard. It's the ones that can murder us all with a thought, and not even intend it, like 239."
At this point, Hayes takes another drink from the bottle of vodka, and sets the bottle down nosily.
"There's a security guard here. Runs the detail up at the main entrance. He's a great guy. Funny, pretty smart. Basically the kind of guy that nearly everyone can get along with. Today, I asked him if he wanted to have a few drinks after shift. Unwind, relax. He declined politely, saying that he would be abandoning his post. Even after I debated with him whether or not he would be abandoning his post or not, he still declined. So I gave up and went about my day."
"At the end of my shift, I was chatting with my superior. I asked her about the guard, and she gave me this funny look, then she said:"
"'He's an SCP.'"
"Gave me a number, a file and went on her way. I came back here, to my quarters and read the file. Turns out he's damn near 1000 years old. Turns out he can seal out a doorway or gateway completely with some form of forcefield. The Foundation found him at the last place he was guarding: Some old castle in Scotland."
"And that got me thinking. How many others are out there. How many people who think they are normal, who are living normal lives, with this one quirk that bothers them every once in a while are out there? How many are harmless? How many are dangerous? How many do we know about?"
"And how many of the dangerous ones know what they can do?"
Hayes chuckles at this point.
"Some fucked up world we live in."