Simon's eyes fluttered open slowly to find it was still nothing darkness - at least until he moved his head away from Andrew's body, at which point he was blinded by the containment chamber lights above. Andrew himself was still sleeping softly next to Simon. Getting up, Simon groggily grabbed his prison clothes off the floor, put them on and made his way outside the chamber, careful not to wake Andrew up. As he walked down the nearby hallway, his eyes felt something they missed dearly - natural light. Looking upwards, Simon noticed a small crack in the ceiling and through that crack came the smallest glimpse of the sun's light, cast down upon the asylum. He did not understand why, but Simon remained fixed in his position, unable to look away. The muscles in his face relaxed and his breathing softened. Closing his eyes, images formed in Simon's mind: alley ways, blurred figures arguing, the dim light of a computer screen. Simon moved throughout the images. Classrooms, soft whispers, his warm bed, an old worn out teddy bear he used to play with. Suddenly, an echo spoke softly throughout Simon's mind. "Simon." It spoke. "Simon." It spoke, louder. Simon was then torn from his mind, turning around quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you." Andrew laughed a bit.
"Oh, it's alright."
"What were you looking at?" Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. Simon smiled softly.
"Nothing, just the light," He pointed, "It's been a short while since I've seen the light, yet it feels like eternity already." Andrew placed a hand on Simon's shoulder.
"I'm sorry for last night, by the way. We can take it more slowly if you want."
"No," Simon interrupted, "It's fine. It was... nice." Simon laughed a little. "What's your thoughts on this light, anyway?"
"How do you think I feel?" Andrew smirked, "It's been years since I last saw it - and all this time, it's been hiding outside of my chamber." The pair looked through the crack some more. "Wouldn't it be great if we could just reach it?" Simon hummed,
"Yeah, if we could just climb to it, or jump through it."
"No," Andrew interrupted, "Just... well, it's hard to explain. Just reach it. No climbing or jumping. Just looking at it, and... you know, reaching it." Andrew's body tensed slightly at the sudden kiss from Simon, but it soon became a welcome one.
"I think I understand." The pair looked at one another, "How about we meet the others? After all, it'll not be long until we are locked away again." Andrew swallowed.
"Yeah, you're right." Andrew took Simon's hand as they walked slowly down the hallway, enjoying each other's presence. It surprised Simon that the Asylum did not have a single theme to it. Whilst his containment chamber was located within white walls with a slither of orange, the halls he and Andrew currently walked were more metallic, with a few hallways even being brown, muddy reds. Then, Simon was met with yet another theme, this time being a simple white and black - the greatest contrast.
"Well looker 'ere, if it isn't the new kid and the hardest criminal in this bloody asylum - holding hands, mind you!" Corporal Lawrence laughed.
"Do you always have alcohol on you, Corporal?" Andrew rolled his eyes.
"I don't know about you, but I reckon stealing millions from theatres, influencing global politics - or murdering hundreds of nurses and ill soldiers - or killing thousands, if not millions with diseases is a little bit harder than murdering a few guys who annoy you." A Greek voice chimed in from the end of one of the four doors in the junction-like room.
"Attention. Attention. Please may the following SCPs return to their containment chamber: SCP-035, SCP-079, SCP-106 and SCP-682. Failure to do so will result in immediate punishment or termination." A booming voice suddenly rang through the intercoms.
"Ha, too bad they can't legally terminate me. I'm a protected artefact!" Dýo laughed, "I'm heading to Damian." With a shrug, he was off – soon to be all of them.
Simon lay in his chamber. Soon enough, he was beginning to learn the true horrors of the Asylum. It isn't the name calling from the guards, or the lack of natural light, or the subpar food, it's the boredom. Oh, the boredom. Simon had fallen into the trap of making friends with others and now he was lonely and bored. Then, a thought occurred to Simon – why not just use his computer. Excited, Simon quickly scrambled to his computer, turning it on before figuring out how to turn off all the foundation security and monitoring. Luckily for Simon, it appeared as if they had underestimated his abilities, so it didn't take long at all. "Why, hello there!"
Andrew almost jumped when he heard Simon's voice suddenly emit from the camera speaker in his chamber. "Are you always going to be watching me as I'm changing?" Simon smiled to himself.
"Probably – is there an issue?" Andrew smirked,
"Guess I'll just have to get used to knowing you eying me – just no watching me in my sleep, that's creepy shit." Andrew laughed. Simon returned the same.
"Strip for me." Simon smirked, "You can be my cam-girl." Andrew scoffed,
"Oh, come on! J'ai beaucoup plus de classe que ça, cher Simon!" Simon felt his face heat up. He didn't know why, but he loved the sound of French (Well, if spoken properly).
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
"I said I have more much class than that, dear Simon!" Andrew grinned at the camera following his moves slowly. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to bed." Andrew took the last of his clothes off, "Look whilst you can, because these are the last few seconds you'll get tonight – perhaps tomorrow you see me more."
"Goodnight, handsome." Simon breathed happily, before changing cameras after Andrew blew him a kiss. He spent a while changing cameras, monitoring the other SCPs, although he made a clear avoidance of SCP-096's room. Dýo lay down on a bed with his host still kicking, waving to the camera as he noticed it spin in a circle. "I thought you were with Damian?"
"I was – but they threatened to terminate him." The mask replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Well, sleep well, Dýo."
"Ciao." Corporal Lawrence sat in his containment chamber, drinking as usual.
"You really don't stop drinking, do you?" The Corporal spat his drink out in surprise.
"Couldn't you at least give a slight warning before suddenly speaking," He coughed, "If I keep hearing random voices like that, I'll start going insane."
"Aren't you already insane?" Simon laughed. Lawrence shrugged,
"I suppose." Finally, Simon, admittedly by mistake, ended up watching Damian perform surgery. Thoughts of his crimes quickly soured Simon's mind, although he couldn't help but stare regardless. As much as he hated to admit it, Damian did appear to be the smartest in the Asylum – and the deadliest. After a few minutes of watching, Simon finally gained the courage to voice himself – and voice himself he did.
"Good evening, Damian." Damian sighed as his hand jolted the scalpel in surprise.
"Well, there goes that surgery," He paused, "What do you want?"
"I was just curious… how many people do you think you've killed?" Damian raised an eyebrow, removing his mask.
"What kind of question is that. I don't know, twenty, maybe?"
"20?" Simon repeated, confused, "Just, 20?"
"Well, yes. Why?"
"But I don't understand. What about all the sick people? You must've killed thousands at the very least." Damian sighed, stuttering on his speech slightly.
"Well – that wasn't… that wasn't me, that was my friends." Damian pointed to a petri dish. Simon laughed a little, caught off guard by the strange comment.
"And" Simon coughed, reassessing himself, "Did those 'friends' personally go out and chose who to infect – who to kill?"
"Well no but- "
"So, you killed them?"
"Alright, fine." Damian huffed, before laughing manically. For a moment, Simon jumped, forgetting he was behind a screen. But soon, the laughing died down.
"Your mind would not be able comprehend the number of fatalities that have occurred as a result of my existence, Simon." Damian shook his head lightly.
"Oh yeah? Says who! I'm on!" Simon frowned, insulted a little.
"OK then," Damian laughed some more, "Let's have a little thought experiment." Damian grinned to the camera. "I'll keep it more mathematical, for you – after all, you seem like that kind of guy. Let's say you have a big tub, filled with little, blue marbles. One day, I, and only I, decide to drop a little red marble into the big tub. Over time, all the marbles become red. You are following?"
"Yes, it appears as if your just describing infection." Simon raised an eyebrow, despite no one being able to see.
"And just how many marbles do you believe are in this tub?"
"Knowing you, probably a few hundred thousand- "
"Billions." Damian halted Simon. "Billions and billions of the infected. However, there's a problem," Damian raised his hand to the camera suddenly, briefly enjoying Simon's silence. Truthfully, Damian never really got chances like this to be able to explain without interruptions. "You see, let's just pretend red marbles have more weight. Soon, the tub falls over and, what do you know – there's a tub below it with another billion marbles! But this time, half of the marbles now in the tub are already infected, so it just keeps going – on and on and on, faster, faster, faster; the marbles do not stop!"
"I think you've lost your marbles, mate." Simon couldn't help himself, although he quickly regretted it.
"Do not interrupt me!" Damian shouted, "You want your bloody answer? Fine then! From one Brit to another – an upfront, in 'ya face, statement: I've killed more people than every slicing, every stabbing, every sword, every bullet, every explosion, every bomb, every war and every disaster known to man! Name a disease!"
"I," Simon paused, caught off by the sudden demand, "I'm sorry?"
"Go on! Name one, quickly." Damian lowered his voice, returning to his more teacher-like state.
"Measles." Damian paused too, before sighing. "OK, well name another one!"
"Uh… polio?"
"Yep, that's all me!"
"Oh, fuck off!" Simon half-laughed, "Don't be so ridiculous- "
"Anthrax, Tetanus, Polio, Meningitis, Smallpox, Influenza, Syphilis, almost anything that causes the Common Cold," The mad doctor continued, the further down the list he went the more worried Simon became. It was as if, if true – at least, that the words coming from the doctor's mouth meant nothing to him at all. No signs of empathy or compassion could be seen. Hell, there wasn't even a charming or terrifying evil in his voice – it was just as if he was rattling of names of old celebrities he had met, or a shopping list he was trying to remember. "Pretty much all the lentiviruses – they've killed millions too, Tuberculosis, Malaria – that's a big one- "
"OK, I get it!" Simon shouted, getting sick of the list.
"They speak of highly of me, you know." Damian smiled as if he it was proudest day of his life.
"Who does, your therapist?"
"Ha! Good one." Damian slapped his knees, "No but in all seriousness, they do like me quite a bit."
"Who?"
"Well, the guys I just mentioned." Simon was lost for words.
"You… You don't mean to tell me you… 'speak', to those things, do you?" Damian laughed more.
"Why of course! You don't think I'd be able to speak to my own creations?"
"But there just bloody diseases! They aren't people." The mad doctor tutted.
"It appears the scientists here are not alone in their lack of understanding of my science. Anyway, you haven't let me speak fondly of my dearest creation, Rabies."
"Really? You invent smallpox, malaria and that is your dearest creation?"
"Why yes, of course! Malaria is too boring and smallpox… well, we all know what happened to them. But Rabies was the only disease I had trouble with birthing into this world. It required many, many
failed attempts."
"And let me guess, all those failed attempts ended up being diseases too."
"No, no, do not rush." Damian shook his head at the camera. "But it did cause me to become more invested in it. It's a shame I haven't spoken to it – or any disease, for a while. Well, except the friends that come from my – uh, you know, bodies." Damian pointed to the body he was operating on. "You may be amazed to know that I managed to make each of these diseases as a hive mind – For example, let's say I speak to some Anthrax – and yes, I know that's a weird image, in Asia. If I meet some more Anthrax in Europe, it'll instantly remember all our previous conversations. Hell, it'll have the same personality too – although I can't control that part. Isn't that cool? Hm? Hmmm?"
"So, I was right in predicting you were the smartest one, hm?" Simon sighed – the conversation alone had tired him immensely, let alone the knowledge that all the times he had caught the cold and had to deal with bullshit like blocked noses was entirely the fault of the mad-man standing before him.
"Perhaps, although it wouldn't be arrogant of me to suggest that."
"Doesn't it bother you?"
"Hm?"
"The amount of death you've caused." Damian stood for a while, all the while silently.
"No." He then returned to operating. Simon was sceptical, to say the least.
"Oh, and one last thing, doctor!" Damian placed a fist on his operating table in annoyance as he messed up another cut, "What?"
"What are you trying to do?"
"Find the cure."
"For what?"
"Never you mind." With that, Simon switched back to his lover's camera.
"Andrew?" Simon spoke.
"Mm, what love? I was just getting to sleep."
"I'm coming over to your chamber – I'm sure I'll be able to convince Dr Bright – you have no idea all the shit I just learned."