(Puts his suppressor back on, exhales) Welcome to Site-19, Agent Koval. You passed the test.
You will. You’re not wearing the suppressor to block the sound, Agent. You’re wearing it to block the implication . The echo doesn't scream. It asks a question.
(Removes his own suppressor. He places his hand flat on the glass, over her shadow. He is risking exposure.) Agent. Look at me.
No. That’s the sink. It’s pulling your regret. Not the big regrets. The tiny ones. The coffee you didn't finish this morning. The door you held for a stranger who didn't say thanks. The second you hesitated before stepping into this room. SCP- Roleplay Script
…stay… stay… stay…
(Glancing at the handprint) It’s just a stain, Thorne. A smudge in the plaster. Why am I wearing a Level 4 memetic suppressor for a plumbing issue?
And?
That was the test? Nearly turning myself into a mural?
It is. Usually. Until someone new comes along. Someone who doubts. Someone with a quiet mind. The echo doesn’t like quiet. It wants company.
(Whispering) I don't hear anything.
How do you live with it? The whisper?
It’s him. Peterson. In the echo. In every timeline where he didn't run, he stayed here, leaned against this wall, and died instantly during the breach. But his consciousness… it’s bleeding through. Every time someone looks at that handprint, the wall gets louder.