D-Class subject 919-05 was a very, very bad man. Arrested, tried, and convicted of multiple counts of child abduction, rape, and first degree murder, 919-05 was on track for death row. The prison surgeon was standing at the end of the hall, and with him was the needle waiting to dig into his arm. The new correctional officers at his sides showed no mercy for the convict. They were tall, large men with no-nonsense attitudes, nothing like the officers in the other hall. In fact, their uniforms looked different as well. Suddenly, the hall disappeared from in front of him, and 919-05 was plunged into darkness.

He was caught literally red-handed, having just disposed of another victim in the woods near her home. At his trial, he expressed gratitude to the families of the victims for providing him with the children that fueled his perverse needs. There were no witnesses registered for his execution. His only remaining family was a father who wanted nothing to do with the sick man that his son had become; and the families of his victims didn't want to see another moment of the monster who took away their children so many years ago. The media followed his trial closely; covering 919-05's story up to a week after his execution was carried out.
Except D-Class subject 919-05 wasn't executed. Not yet. The Foundation had him.

“… and after careful review of the specific facts of the subject, the nature of the experiment, and the nature of SCP-919, permission for Experiment 919-23 is granted for Dr. Temke.”
“Thank you gentlemen. I believe that all the necessary requirements have now been met, so I won't waste any more of your valuable time…”
“One more thing, Doctor… we know about your niece. We've known for a few weeks now.”
The pallor on Dr. Temke's face increased significantly. They've already granted their permission, why would they go back on it now? This experiment could help so many tormented families…
“Oh?” was all he managed to squeak out.
“Just a warning. Follow the experiment protocols exactly. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”
The relief washed over him like a river. “Of course. Thank you.”
Dr. Temke left the boardroom, the sweat fogging his glasses, and his hands shaking.

919-05 was right there in front of him. An IV drip provided the necessary paralytic to keep him from moving too much, but he could still speak. And boy did he speak. He cried, he screamed, he begged, he threatened to call his lawyer. Not surprisingly, after that last request was denied, he started to calm down a bit and tried to assess his surroundings. There wasn't much to see. He was strapped to a wheelchair, and could barely move his arms and legs. His head kept flopping side to side as he surveyed his new prison. It was as if his neck muscles were just too tired to hold up his head. There was no light except for a lone bulb directly above his head, making him sweat and squint. The stinging sweat dripped right into his eyes and blurred his vision. From what he could see, there was a large black curtain in front of him. He couldn't see what it was covering, but it was tall. To the right and slightly behind the curtain was a chair. It was one of those fancy ones with upholstered arms and made of leather. Far behind both of those were two guards, dressed just like the men who were taking him to the chamber at the end of the hall. That was three days ago.
A door opens out of view of 919-05, and a tall man in a lab coat walks in and sits in the chair next to the curtain. The man looks through several pieces of paper on a clipboard, and then locks his gaze onto 919-05. His eyes stare intently at 919-05, seeming to look beyond the eyes at the pathetic little man paralyzed in the wheelchair.
After a few seconds, 919-05 speaks.
“I want my lawyer,” he says with a tremble. “I want my lawyer right now, and I won't talk to you.”
The doctor adjusts his glasses and looks at his watch. He takes a pen out of his pocket and says, “You were convicted of killing almost a dozen children over the last two years. Where are their bodies?”
“Fuck you,” says 919-05. “I want my lawyer.”
“Please answer the question.” Dr. Temke wipes his forehead with a handkerchief, gripping his pen tightly with the other hand. “Where are the children hidden? All of them. Did you bury them?"
"I want my lawyer…"
"Burn them?"
"My lawyer. I want my lawyer now…"
"Where are they?! Where is Angie? WHERE IS MY NIECE?!”
“I said I want my lawyer. Who the hell are you?! I WANT TO SEE MY FUCKING LAWYER! I WANT TO SEE HIM NOW!” 919-05 screams, the anger and fear easily visible in his eyes.
“You don't have a lawyer. You…you were executed three days ago, and dead men don't get lawyers.” Dr. Temke stands up and takes a step to the side of the black curtain.
“I'll ask you once more, where are the kids' bodies? They deserve proper burials.”
“I want to see my lawyer,” is all 919-05 mutters.
“I'll show you something worse.” At this Dr. Temke pulls down on the curtain, showing a large ornate mirror, reflecting back to 919-05 just his own image.
Dr. Temke takes a step away, reaching into his lab coat. He pulls out a gun and points it directly at 919-05's stomach, his finger twitching with anticipation. The fear in 919-05's eyes crescendos, and he stares directly at the gun. For the first time, he doesn't say anything and just breathes in heavily, possibly wondering why he hasn't been shot yet. Seconds feels like hours, but after a short while the silence is broken. Not by 919-05. Not by the Doctor. Not even by the imposing guards in the corners. The sound comes from right in front of 919-05. From the mirror.
“Please…don't go…please stay…”
919-05's jaw drops, but his surprise is interrupted as an explosion shatters the silence, followed by a pain in his stomach that feels like he just swallowed a piece of red-hot coal. He manages to look up and see the smoke curling up from the barrel of the gun. The pain is intense, and 919-05 starts screaming. The IV drip is barely keeping him from moving.
Dr. Temke suddenly changes track. He throws the gun on the floor and turns to look at the mirror.
“Please…keep him here. Don't take him away.”
“I will,” says the Doctor. “Tell me, can you move? Can you shake your feet for me?”
“No, I can't. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. Please don't take him away. I can try again. Give me a minute and I can try moving them again. Don't take him away. Please…” the reflection pleads.
“I won't. It's okay, just answer the questions, okay? Are you shot? Look at your stomach. Have you been shot?”
“No, I'm okay, I haven't been shot.”
Dr. Temke takes out a tape recorder and turns away, “919-05A seems to suffer the same disadvantages as 919-05 prior to losing synchronicity. Any physical damage done to 919-05 after losing synchronicity does not seem to be reflected in 919-05A. Sweat from the light and interrogation is still visible on…”
919-05 lets out a low moan, breaking the Doctor's concentration. The Doctor stares at him, and then quickly turns his gaze back to the reflection.
“…is still visible on 919-05A's forehead. All physical characteristics are identical prior to the gunshot made approximately 15 seconds after exposure."
He pauses to clear his throat. "This man…you…you murdered and raped several children, and then hid their bodies. Where are they?”
“Please don't take him away. They're in an old storm shelter; 6 miles west off of mile marker 23 on Route 11. You're not going to take him there, are you?… It's near where my dad used to have a cabin when I was younger. He can still show you where…”
919-05 lets out a loud moan and tries to speak. Dr. Temke's head whips around to look at him. He bends down and picks up the gun, pointing it right at 919-05's skull. 919-05 looks up at the man in the lab coat, and at the gun in his hand. His vision is blurred and his mind is fuzzy, but he knows this is something…different. Something horrifying.
“Wha…Who are you…”
Dr. Temke pulls the trigger, terminating 919-05 immediately. He gasps at how easy it was, and how immediately 919-05 just slumps down. A few seconds pass. He looks up at the camera that was stationed behind 919-05.
“Well? What does the father say? Is it there?”
A few more seconds pass. Static, and then a voice fill the room, “Yeah…he says he hasn't been there in almost a decade, but it's not far from one of our stationed agents. We're sending him over now.”
“Please…keep him here.”
Dr. Temke looks up and sees 919-05A still staring intently at the body of the terminated D-Class.
“Right…we've still got some questions for you…”

An hour later, Dr. Temke puts down his pen. He looks across the room at the body of the man who took away his only niece's life. The man was given an extra three days to live, and his contribution to this experiment greatly improved the understanding of the nature of SCP-919. That thought is secondary. The only thing he truly feels is the relief at getting to pull the trigger. He knows he will have to submit himself to psychiatric evaluation after this. That and a mandatory 2-week vacation were prerequisites of the experiment he agreed to.
“Uh, Dr. Temke? We've got some news.”
Dr. Temke sits upright and stares intently at the camera. 919-05A does the same.
“Yeah…we found the bodies. We found all eleven of them. Right where 919-05A said they were. ”
“See! I told you I could help! Please leave him here; I can't do anything else to anyone. I can just sit here, now.” 919-05A hasn't changed during the entire ordeal. He hasn't said anything new but the truth. He hasn't changed his demeanor or attitude. He's still the same subject he was when he was first brought into existence.
There is nothing new to learn here.
Dr. Temke stands up and walks back to the door he came in through. As he leaves, he turns to one of the guards.
“Get someone down here to clean up. I need the body sent to Autopsy, and SCP-919 returned to the containment cell.”
At this, 919-05A starts screaming and thrashing in his bonds. “PLEASE! OHGODOHGODOHGOD…PLEASE NO! NO! YOU PROMISED! DON'T TAKE HIM AWAY! OH GOD NO NO NO!”
The guard moves towards the mirror and starts picking up the black curtain from the floor. Dr. Temke ignores the pleas of the scared reflection and walks out of the door, letting it slowly shut behind him.
He can hear 919-05A screaming all the way down the hall.
As he turns the corner, the screaming abruptly stops.