David Eskobar's Personnel File (DECEASED)

Maria Jones looked at the items collected before her. There wasn't much left of it. Obviously most of the personal effects in his office no longer existed, given the circumstances under which he…well, the circumstances that brought her here. David was a friend, and Maria was going to discharge a final obligation towards him.

David Eskobar had no family to speak of, and few friends. He didn't particularly inspire friendship. It wasn't his fault, as much; he had had his stutter since childhood, and its severity was such that he never really opened up to many people. He and Maria had taken a liking to one another, perhaps mostly as two people who didn't have many other friends to speak of. Nothing romantic, mind you; she had always suspected David was gay, but ultimately was too shy to approach anyone of any sex. He lived alone, both in his dormitory and in his life in general.

Whether he died alone was unknown. Much of how he died was unknown.

Maria looked at the personal effects they shipped from the Site 38 dormitory. How it survived the bombing, nobody knew; it had certainly been hit, but the bomb failed to go off. Freak accident, they said. She would accept it.

One (1) collectible glass, reading "Tennessee Aquarium — Chattanooga" with a tarnished image of a dolphin.
One (1) leather wallet, with assorted contents
Two (2) bottles Kaluha brand coffee liqueur, unopened
One (1) bottle Barton brand vodka, half empty
One (1) Amazon Kindle Fire, badly scratched
One (1) TV/DVD/VCR combination unit, heavily yellow stains (presumed nicotine)
Three (3) men's dress shirts
Four (4) men's dress pants
One (1) black men's blazer
One (1) handwritten note, text illegible except for final line: "To My Love, Lisa"

Maria paused. Huh, she thought. Not gay after all. She would look into who Lisa was, see if it was somebody who needed to be told of what had happened. She guessed not; David had never had a girlfriend or wife the entire time Maria had known him. Whoever Lisa was, she hadn't been around for some time. She sighed, a tear falling down her cheek. She clenched her fists, repeated a mantra to herself, and continued.

One (1) text manuscript, heavily edited (LEVEL 3 CLEARANCE REQUIRED)
Forty-nine (49) file folders (LEVEL 4 CLEARANCE REQUIRED)

As the director of RAISA, she had that clearance; the files were spread out before her. The files were his researcher notes from his time at the Foundation. She'd be damned if she knew why he had a personal copy of his own files, let alone hard copies, but he was an odd one. She looked at the index before her:

SCPs Documented:
SCP-046 — "Predatory" Holly Bush
SCP-373 — Ghost Record
SCP-877 — University Microchips
SCP-878 — The Actor
SCP-961 — University Sundial
SCP-1080 — University Creche
SCP-1081 — University Speakers
SCP-1082 — The Whole Truth
SCP-1083 — University Skull
SCP-1084 — Damaged Mausoleum
SCP-1085 — Pound Off the Pounds!
SCP-1086 — Second-Brain Syndrome
SCP-1087 — White Tarsier
SCP-1173 — The Islamic Republic of Eastern Samothrace
SCP-1271 — Kickball Field, Sheckler Elementary
SCP-1380 — Room #16
SCP-1480 — Bus #64
SCP-1546 — University Cap
SCP-1680 — Tyler
SCP-1750 — Model TH-223
SCP-1783 — Cardboard Cutout Dog
SCP-1893 — The Minotaur's Tale
SCP-1963 — Very Funny Slingshot
SCP-1993 — Your Leg
SCP-1998 — Concentration Enhancer, Standard
SCP-1851-EX — Drapetomania
SCP-2780 — Temporal Anomaly, 618 Evergreen St.
SCP-2998 — Anomalous Transmission, 2485 MHz

Other reports authored:
Game Day, Part I: Smilers — In which a man has a very bad experience with a clown.
Year of the ManySCP-453 containment breach. Writ large.
The Red Woodsman — A recovery mission and a revolution.
The Happy Ending — Closing time for Site 19 in the 23rd century.
Cursed — Now at three four five dead SCPs and counting but ended by SCP-1022. NO FUN.
Hephaestus — If you're going to experiment, better know your gods. Also, fuck Ron Weasley.
Naptime — Quit looking. Somehow has used to have three times as many votes as the SCP it's based on.
Stare — Gotta do your job. It helps when you don't know how not to like it.
ScriptureSCP-962 gets a little too affectionate.
Love in Leetspeak — A demigod gets a crush.
Ghost — Just following orders. That makes it okay, right?
Stray — Here, kitty kitty. Here, kitty.
Protect — Even if it's not grimdark or evil, you secure, contain, ___.
Home — Mind your own business. I live how I want.
Fight — I don't see why we can't just get along.
∆K=([ϑK/ ϑx, [ ϑK/ ϑy], [ ϑK/ ϑz]) Or: Episiotometrics]
Groups of Interest entry for Alexylva University
Zen and the Art of [DATA EXPUNGED], a guide for all and sundry.

Three Conversations:
Conversation 1: Omicron — A man and his therapist talk about a dream.
Conversation 2: Numberless — Two agents chat about some missing persons.
Conversation 3: Decommissioning — The last occupant of Site 19 talks to an SCP that doesn't exist.

Parable of the Wayward Prince:
Prologue: Dramatis Personae
Act I, Scene I: Commencement
Act I, Scene II: Deontic
Act I, Scene III: Soliloquy
Intermission: Good Morning, Sunshine
Act II, Scene I: Repel
Act II, Scene II: Negotiation
Act II, Scene III: Denouement and Epilogue

Documents recovered concerning the Organization for the Recovery of Islamic Artifacts:
Of Mats and Masquerades
Of Teachers and Taxicabs
Researcher Eskobar is the two-time winner of the annual Personnel File Organization Efficiency Maintenance Award, which carries with it a monetary prize of US$10 and a small pin. The winning entry can be viewed here.

Like hell he didn't have a sense of humor, Maria thought. The PFOEMA was a running joke between the two of them; David claimed keeping a neat personnel file was the only thing he did that his superiors liked. Maria always joshed back, but knew as well as he did that it was true. David simply wasn't made to work for the Foundation; he knew it, and his bosses knew it.

The manuscript was the text of his old personnel file, a story of how he came to join the Foundation. Again full of little in-jokes, he never really liked it as much. Maria guessed it was because it never made her laugh.

Maria never found out what the deal was with that goddamn thornbush. She asked David, but he always said he would tell her later. He said he had to keep some stories for their retirement. When they would drink together and talk about old times.

In blue pen, Maria included a small note beneath the rest of the entries on that list:

03/12/12: Major SCP-877 containment breach. Site 38 destroyed during containment efforts. No survivors recovered. David Eskobar missing and presumed dead.

The tears began to fall in earnest then.

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