Decapitate the Viper - SCP Foundation

Holding the dark brown briefcase in his hands, Andrew entered the oval office. There were paintings of famous and not so famous artists on the walls, and a shelf with a coffee machine standing on it was built into the wall. The huge white round table with chairs spread around and two middle-aged men met him, they nodded to Andrew as a greeting. One of them was sitting already, the second, leaning against the wall, lit a pipe.

There wasn’t any sense to tell that smoking in this place, without any window and with a weak and dysfunctional ventilation system, didn't leave behind a good odour. Acrid cigarette smoke punched Andrew in the nose at once when he took a first breath. His eyes went black and legs were a little shaky.

The man, who was the source of this foul stench probably didn’t even guess that he disturbed others. But even if this thought flashed through his head, he would immediately dismiss it.

Finally, he finished with air pollution, sat down at the table and opened his briefcase that was laid out on it in advance. There were a lot of things there: the whole stack of all sorts of documents, a hole on the left side for a small penknife, the big yellow button and numbers of different devices of unknown function.

Andrew wasn’t in a hurry to open his one, he didn't even want to show it to not raise unnecessary suspicion. The only reason for it was that the contents of his briefcase was in stark contrast to the standard kit of GOC high society paraphernalia. At least in that instead of the regular things there was an incredibly powerful explosive device embedded inside it that could tear apart any human in the radius of ten meters.

Putting his bag, Andrew with a relaxed appearance left the room and wandered slowly to the direction of the restroom. When he found it among an extensive corridor network and entered inside, he approached the sink and looked at the mirror.

It was like a ritual that he repeated day-by-day, looking at his own face.

Andrew was a Foundation’s agent, who was embedded into the hierarchy of GOC, which has recently been gaining momentum at an alarming rate, several years ago.

He started from the lowest rung, going higher and higher gradually, and, finally, he got into the military command headquarters. The assignment of operative was to decapitate it, that would cause irreparable damage to hostile organization.

Agent touched his stubble, then shifted his gaze to eyes. He noticed that the cornea of the right, blind eyeball became even more blurry and began to look like the eye of a dead fish. Time hasn’t spared other parts of his face too: the sparse grey was beginning to show in hair, the skin became much rougher, there were a lot of wrinkles on it.

Finally, he finished to peer his aged face, put his hand under the sink, and, fumbling for the button, pressed it. With that done, the walls near the toilet suddenly began to part, revealing the long corridor leading outside. It was intended to be used by the high command in case of emergencies, but the agent decided to use it to his advantage.

Approximately after about ten minutes of straying, Andrew did find a ladder to the top and climbed up revealing a one-way hatch hidden behind a large amount of all sorts of vegetation.

Meeting should have already started without an agent – his “colleagues” did that sometimes when he was out or late.

Andrew took out the detonator hidden under his sweatshirt and then pressed the button without delay. An explosion was heard in the distance, announcing that the operation had been completed.