Dr. Ronald Stimson sighed softly to himself, going deeper and deeper into the facility. The heavy briefcase chained to his arm made him wince with every step, the additional weight throwing him off balance enough to put a crick in his back, sending jolts of pain through him again and again. He didn't know why he'd been selected for this duty, only that he had been. An unfortunate case of circumstance, he supposed.
After all, he was one of the last ones left alive.
He never knew Site-19 ran so deep or so far underground. The elevator had stopped after his ears had popped, and the stairs seemed to keep going forever. Hours seemed to pass before they finally stopped, and he stared at a heavy iron door. His destination.
He opened it, wincing slightly as a blast of stale air hit his nose. He walked in, turning on the ventilation and closing the door behind him, hearing it lock with an echoing click of finality. He set the briefcase on the table and sighed heavily, detaching it from his wrist at last and opening it, pulling out a file folder and setting it on the table.
He sat down in front of it, knowing the procedure, and closed his eyes, breathing deep. It was a terrible risk. The worst one left. But it was all they had, now.
He opened the file and turned the first page.
Object Class: Euclid
Description: SCP-3245 is a cloud fro—

He closed it again, then reopened it.
Object Class: Euclid
Description: SCP-3246 is a dimension parallel to our own, accessible only by—

He closed it, sighing more deeply, shaking his head. "This is wrong… Why did they think this would work?"
Object Class: Keter
Description: SCP-3247 was first noted in 2046, when it leveled the city of Hiroshi—

He slammed it shut, holding his head in his hands. "No, god damn it!" he screamed. "I don't care! I don't care if they won, this isn't right! We can't just do this!"
He shoved the file away from himself, getting up and pacing the room. They were dead, of course. All those people now. Every last one mentioned in the report. Just like his friends. His family. Dead. And he'd as good as killed them.
He paced the room, wondering how quickly the population on the surface was dropping. How much longer they would last. He closed his eyes, the stress of just breathing making him ache. He walked to the papers, reaching down and picking them up, sitting back down at the table.

Object Class: Keter
Description: SCP-4474 was first observed in 1864, when an event believed to be the Biblical rapture—

He hated himself.

Object Class: Euclid
Description: SCP-6449 first contacted the Foundation after becoming aware of his omniscience and realizing that he was a danger to the unive—

He wanted to die.

Object Class: Safe
Description: SCP-8140 was captured by the Foundation in 2018 after his production run of Mister Ender caused—

He was sure he deserved it by now. Positive of it. Completely positive.

He stared at the ceiling. He was sure, sometime in the past, he'd heard screaming somehow. Screaming from the top of the world. Claws scratching at the door at one point. Felt himself choke for an instant. But he was almost done. He closed his eyes, blinking so he could see again, and closed the file, opening it slowly.
Object Class: Keter
Description: Look what you did, Ronald. They're gone now. All of them.

He stared at the short page. He had to be hallucinating. Wasn't there one of these that would make you go crazy if you just knew about it? Had he been infected?
Object Class: Keter
Description: You ended the world, Ronald. This was a stupid plan when they came up with it, and you knew it.

He closed it again, gagging slightly. Then opened it.
Object Class: Keter
Description: You wanted this. You wanted this almost as much as I did. Things would have been fine, you know? Perfectly fine. But they were too proud. And you were too willing. And now, look at what you did. Your wife. Your family. Everyone and everything you ever loved. Thank you, Ronald. Thank you. Now, there's just one loose end.

He closed it, then opened it again, hands shaking.
Object Class: Thaumiel
Description: It's right next to you, Ronald. Loaded. Waiting. Go ahead. You know what to do.

Stimson turned, looking down at the revolver. He reached for it, picking it up and cocking the trigger, his face ashen. Almost automatically, he put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger, ending the last human life on the planet with a sudden thrash, sending the papers flying away from him, landing on the floor near his foot, the first page open again…
Object Class: Keter
Description...