Chapter 63: Ethical Interview

Chapter 63: Ethical Interview

Lina awoke abruptly, her surroundings unfamiliar and sterile. The light filtering through the small window in the metal door was pale, casting shadows across the bare walls of the room she found herself in. She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples, trying to piece together what had happened. She had no memory of how she had ended up in the cell, and the thin, uncomfortable cot beneath her only added to her sense of displacement.

The digital clock on the wall read 6:00 a.m. sharp when a loud, rhythmic knocking came from the metal door.

"Lina? You ready?" came Colonel Mendoza's voice, rough and impatient.

She scrambled to her feet, pulling on the tactical gear laid out beside her bed. The tight-fitting black suit, layered with kevlar and various pockets and holsters, felt heavy against her skin. When she finally opened the door, Mendoza stood there, his expression stern but familiar.

"Come on, let's move. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Lina nodded, falling in step beside him as they walked through the bustling base. The cold morning air hit her face as they stepped outside. The base was already a hive of activity, with soldiers, agents, and various personnel hurrying from one end to another. The tension was palpable in the air; after all, an impending battle was not something to take lightly.

As they passed rows of makeshift tents set up outside the main buildings, she noticed the overflow of personnel. They had clearly run out of room in the main structures, forcing them to use tents for everything from sleeping quarters to mess halls.

"We'll be joining the others," Mendoza muttered as they approached one of the larger tents. Inside, she could see her team, Omega-7, gathered around a long row of tables. The smell of freshly cooked food wafted out, and despite the situation, Lina's stomach growled.

She entered the tent and immediately spotted Iris sitting near the middle of the group, her hair messy, but her face bright as she laughed at something one of the other members had said. Lina took a seat beside her.

"Morning, Iris," Lina said softly.

Iris turned her head and smiled. "Morning, Lina. Sleep well?"

Lina shrugged. "Not exactly." She looked around at the rest of the team. Everyone was eating, talking, trying to maintain some sense of normalcy before the chaos of the day began.

The group sat and ate for about ten minutes, the clattering of plates and the low hum of conversation filling the tent. Lina was just starting to feel a little more at ease when the flaps of the tent were suddenly pushed aside, letting in the crisp morning breeze.

A man in a black suit, flanked by two guards, strode into the mess hall. He wore a green armband emblazoned with a symbol Lina had never seen before. Instantly, the room grew quieter. Conversations died mid-sentence, and the clinking of utensils on plates came to an awkward halt. All eyes turned toward the newcomer.

Some of the personnel looked nervous, while others had expressions of outright disdain. The man, tall and slim with slicked-back hair, scanned the room with an air of calm authority, his gaze lingering on each person for only a moment before moving on. When his eyes landed on Lina, he smiled.

He began walking toward her with a confident stride, his guards keeping pace beside him. As he approached, Lina felt a chill run down her spine, though she couldn't quite place why. The room remained tense, everyone now focused on the interaction about to unfold.

"SCP-8888, I presume?" the man asked smoothly, his voice like silk as he stopped in front of her.

Lina blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the title. She wasn't used to being referred to like that outside of official Foundation business. She opened her mouth to respond, but Colonel Mendoza, sitting nearby, interjected before she could.

"Who the hell are you supposed to—" Mendoza started, but his words trailed off when he got a closer look at the man's armband. His face paled slightly. "Oh. Oh shit. The Ethics Committee."

The man in the suit smiled, clearly amused by Mendoza's reaction. "Indeed." He turned to face Mendoza fully. "I expect a five-page report from you, Colonel, detailing how you intend to improve the treatment of personnel around you and the moral impact of fostering such a hostile atmosphere." His tone was polite, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

Mendoza's expression hardened, but he knew better than to argue with the Ethics Committee. "Fine," he grumbled, casting a sideways glare at the man. "I'll get it done."

The man in the suit gave a curt nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention back to Lina. "Now, SCP-8888," he said, "I need you to come with me. We have some matters to discuss."

Lina looked to Mendoza for some form of reassurance, but the Colonel merely sighed, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Go with him," he muttered under his breath. "You'll be fine."

The other members of Omega-7 watched silently as Lina stood up and followed the man out of the tent, her heart pounding with uncertainty. She could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on her back, and as they left the tent, she couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get much more complicated.

Lina followed the man in the black suit and his two silent guards, their boots crunching lightly against the gravel as they moved away from the bustling heart of the camp. The morning sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the base as soldiers and personnel hurried from place to place. Despite the growing activity, there was a strange calm that surrounded Lina and her escorts as they neared a lone picnic table placed beneath a sparse tree.

Arnold Schneider, as he had introduced himself, gestured towards the bench. "Please, take a seat," he said, his voice pleasant, almost disarming. Lina hesitated for a moment before sitting down across from him. She was still unsure of what this impromptu interview was about. Schneider sat as well, clasping his hands together on the wooden table, his expression friendly.

"Thank you for coming with me, Lina," he began, the tone of his voice making it seem as though she had a choice in the matter. "As I mentioned earlier, I'm with the Ethics Committee, and today I'm here to ask you a few questions about your experiences and general well-being. You see, we at the Committee have a vested interest in ensuring that individuals like yourself—those categorized as SCPs—are treated with the appropriate level of respect and care. It's important to us that the Foundation's work, though necessary, does not lose sight of basic decency."

Lina blinked, still slightly taken aback. She had expected another interrogation, another reminder of how her status as SCP-8888 meant she was an asset, a tool. But this... this felt different. "I see," she replied slowly. "But, what exactly is the Ethics Committee?"

Schneider raised an eyebrow in mild surprise before chuckling softly. "I forget that not everyone is familiar with our work, despite our...popularity within the Foundation," he said, with a knowing glance towards his silent guards, who remained standing just behind him. "The Ethics Committee, simply put, serves as a moral compass for the Foundation. We are the ones who draw the line between what is cruel and what is coldly necessary. We ensure that, even in the face of unspeakable dangers and anomalies, the Foundation remains an organization that strives for control and containment, without losing its humanity."

Lina nodded slowly, still processing the explanation. "So... you're here to make sure that the Foundation isn't too cruel?"

"Precisely," Schneider said, his smile widening. "We're here to ensure that while the Foundation's methods may be harsh at times, they are never unnecessarily so. Our motto is simple: The Foundation is cold, not cruel.  And it is our duty to reinforce that distinction."

Lina exhaled, unsure of what to expect next. Schneider leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning her face as if reading her thoughts. Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notepad. "Now," he said, "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, if you don't mind. You can answer honestly—there are no right or wrong answers here."

Lina gave a slight nod, her heart still pounding. Schneider flipped open the notepad and began.

"First question," he said, "How would you describe your treatment by the Foundation so far? Do you feel respected as an individual, or merely treated as an asset?"

Lina paused, considering the weight of the question. "I've mostly been treated as... an asset," she admitted. "I understand why, but I can't say it feels good to be seen as a tool."

Schneider nodded, jotting something down. "I see. And how does that impact your mental state?"

"Well, it's... exhausting," Lina replied, trying to find the right words. "I feel like I always have to prove that I'm worth more than just my abilities. It's like walking on a knife's edge."

"Understandable," Schneider said. "Second question: Do you believe that the Foundation has done enough to safeguard your physical and psychological well-being?"

Lina frowned. "I don't know... They've kept me alive, but I don't think they care about how I feel. Most of the time, it's about keeping me 'useful.'"

Schneider scratched another note. "We'll make a point to review that." He glanced up at her again. "Third question: Are you aware of the protocols in place should you become a liability?"

The question sent a cold shiver down Lina's spine. "Yes," she said quietly. "I know what happens if I lose control."

"Good. It's important to be aware of that." He flipped to a new page. "Fourth question: Do you believe that the Foundation's protocols for containing anomalies like yourself are fair, or do they lean towards excessive caution?"

Lina thought for a moment. "I'd say... excessive caution. But then again, given what I am... I understand why."

"Excessive, but necessary, then?" Schneider mused, making another note. "Fifth question: How do you feel about your classification as SCP-8888? Do you accept it, or do you wish you could be seen as something... else?"

Lina sighed. "I didn't choose to be SCP-8888. I'd prefer to be seen as just... me. But I guess I don't have that luxury anymore."

Schneider's pen paused for a moment before continuing. "Sixth question: Have you ever considered trying to escape from Foundation custody?"

The directness of the question startled her. Lina shook her head. "No. I wouldn't even know where to go. Besides, they'd find me, wouldn't they?"

"Most likely," Schneider admitted, offering her a faint smile. "Seventh question: Do you believe that the Foundation is justified in its treatment of other SCPs, especially those deemed more dangerous?"

Lina hesitated. "Some of them, yes. But I feel like some SCPs aren't treated well... and it doesn't always sit right with me."

"Interesting," Schneider said, scratching down a note. "Eighth question: Are there any specific personnel within the Foundation that you feel particularly connected to or trust?"

Lina nodded. "Kovacs. She's been... very caring, I guess you could say."

"Good to know." He flipped to another page. "Ninth question: Do you believe that there are aspects of the Foundation's operations that violate basic ethical principles?"

Lina pursed her lips. "Yes. Definitely. There's a lot that happens here that shouldn't."

Schneider raised an eyebrow, but he didn't seem surprised. "Noted," he said. "Last question: If given the choice, would you choose to remain with the Foundation, or would you rather be free?"

Lina looked away, her gaze drifting towards the horizon. "I don't know what freedom would even look like for me anymore."

Schneider closed the notepad and tucked it back into his pocket. "Thank you, Lina. Your answers have been very helpful. I'll be sure to take everything you've said into account." He smiled at her once more, standing up from the table. "Remember, you may be an SCP, but that doesn't mean you're not a person."

With that, Schneider gestured for his guards to follow him. "Take care, Lina," he said before turning and walking away, leaving her alone at the picnic table, with her thoughts swirling in the cool morning air.

Lina stood from the picnic table after Arnold Schneider and his guards disappeared from view. She felt a strange sense of unease, but she shook it off as she retraced her steps back toward the tents. The base around her was still alive with activity—people rushing from one point to another, preparing for whatever awaited them. When she reached the area where Omega-7 had been, she found it deserted.

Confused, she glanced around before noticing a janitor cleaning the area. "Excuse me," she called out. "Do you know where MTF Omega-7 went?"

The janitor looked up, paused his cleaning, and nodded. "Yeah, they moved over to the MTF Quarters, a little further off. Should be easy to find, just follow the path past the storage crates."

Lina thanked him and set off. The MTF zone, as she approached it, was far more relaxed than she had expected. Soldiers in tactical gear sat around laughing, watching TV, and playing cards. Others were involved in physical exercises, while a few groups sat chatting over meals.

As she scanned the area, her eyes landed on Colonel Mendoza, sitting at a small desk with papers strewn around him. He was muttering curses under his breath as he scribbled furiously on what looked like reports.

"Colonel," Lina said, smiling as she approached.

Mendoza glanced up from his paperwork, his face softening for a moment before he went back to scribbling. "Lina. Done with the interview?"

"Yeah, it's finished," she replied, crossing her arms as she leaned against the nearby post. "What's with all the paperwork?"

Mendoza grumbled something incoherent and then sighed. "Punishment, courtesy of our friends at the Ethics Committee," he said, throwing his pen down in frustration. "Five pages on 'moral impacts.' Stupid..."

Lina couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the usually gruff colonel cursing under his breath like a frustrated student. "What about today?" she asked, still smiling. "What's the plan?"

Mendoza waved his hand. "Today's a free day for everyone. Do whatever you want. Train, rest, whatever. Just make sure you're geared up and ready by 10:00pm. Understood?"

"Understood," Lina nodded, still chuckling as she walked away, seeing Mendoza in a more human light for the first time. She glanced around, deciding to explore the area more.

As she wandered through the MTF zone, she noticed a group of operators in regular German military gear gathered near one of the tents. She struck up a conversation with a few of them, discussing their origins and experiences. Lina, being German herself, felt a certain connection with them, and their banter was light and enjoyable.

After spending time chatting, she moved on, eventually finding herself sitting with a group watching TV. The channels flipped between the news, sports, and some old sitcom reruns, the laughter infectious as the soldiers let their guard down for the first time in a long while.

The sound of a commotion broke the moment of calm. A series of cheers and jeers came from one of the larger tents. Curious, Lina got up and followed the noise until she came to a makeshift gym, complete with a boxing ring in the center. Inside, MTF operatives and field agents were pitted against one another in one-on-one matches, with bets and bragging rights on the line.

Lina leaned against the ropes, watching intently as an intense fight unfolded between a German operator and one of Omega-7's own members. The air was thick with excitement as the two combatants circled each other, both dripping with sweat. 

The German operator, a tall and well-built soldier, moved with precision. His strikes were calculated, his defense impenetrable. He landed a sharp jab to the side of the Omega-7 agent's head, causing him to stumble back.

The Omega-7 agent, stockier but clearly experienced, gritted his teeth and swung back with a powerful hook, but the German ducked just in time. He retaliated with a combination of strikes to the body, pushing the Omega-7 agent into the ropes. The crowd roared as the fight seemed to sway in the German's favor.

But the Omega-7 operative wasn't finished. He gathered his strength and surged forward, landing a strong uppercut that sent the German staggering back into the center of the ring. For a moment, the crowd held its breath as the two fighters stood face to face, neither willing to give an inch.

Then, with sudden speed, the German operator spun and delivered a Brazilian kick—a vicious, arcing strike that landed squarely on the side of the Omega-7 agent's head. The impact sent him crashing to the mat, where he stayed down, dazed and struggling to rise.

The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter. Lina couldn't help but grin at the sight of one of her Omega-7 comrades in such a disoriented state. He caught her eye from the mat, and though clearly embarrassed, he gave her a sheepish smile in return.

The German operator offered his hand, pulling his opponent to his feet as the crowd celebrated the victory. Lina, still smiling, felt the camaraderie in the air—a rare moment of levity amidst the chaos that defined their lives.

She lingered by the ring for a while longer, enjoying the energy and the respite from the looming sense of dread. But in the back of her mind, the clock ticked down toward 10:00pm. The next few hours of freedom were a fleeting gift before they would all once again face the darkness that waited beyond the horizon.