make this story have right punctuation and make it flow better DO NOT CHANGE IT (THE BEGGINING) Wendigo and Watcher we're once normal individuals, not perfect that's for sure, but they're making with what's due, the watcher, (Desdemona at the time), was a

Wendigo and Watcher were once normal individuals; not perfect, that's for sure, but they were making do with what they had. The Watcher, Desdemona at the time, was a hard-working, loyal employee at a nearby coffee shop. Occasionally, she made quick cash by stealing and selling newly released copies to leak chasers and bootleg junkies. Wendigo, on the other hand, worked at a VHS store, helping Desdemona get copies to sell while also diving deeper into his own insanity. He developed a hunger for meat, but not just any form of meat—human flesh. Mason slowly took that hunger and made it into something bigger: his first kill. After a few months of Mason’s hunger evolving and becoming insatiable—along with a few missing persons reported—Mason thought he had everyone fooled. That was until Desdemona walked in on him scrounging on a human being. Obviously disgusted, she didn't understand the temptation, but she knew she had to keep them both out of trouble. So, she began to help with the cleanup of his meals and the disposal of any evidence he left behind. She noticed that the more he ate, the more his hunger grew. She didn’t understand what was happening with him or the source of this sudden urge. The bodies went from one every few days to five each week, and Desdemona knew the trail of missing persons could eventually lead to them. Mason was slowly slipping out of society, and even with all of the eating, he was becoming noticeably skinny. Yet, even with his malnourished appearance, he could tear an arm off like it was paper. Every time Desdemona witnessed one of his feedings, she couldn’t help but clench her jaw, her own sanity almost cracking. "It's just meat. It's just meat," she would tell herself. But after a while, all she could do was blankly stare, calculating the mess, the time, and the horror of it all—she was noticeably becoming desensitized as the months piled up. One chilly late fall night, around 2 in the morning, Mason was hunched over, groaning, while Desdemona had her first failure in finding an individual for him to feast on. Mason was becoming increasingly angry, but Desdemona didn’t take it to heart; she knew how hungry he got. The way he was acting, though, was different—and honestly, it scared her. His voice sounded almost like an animalistic deep growl. "Do you understand what this hunger does to me? DO YOU?!" Mason shouted while shaking Desdemona like a maniac. She could only stare at him, watching as he drooled like an absolute animal, clawing at his throat and leaving noticeable scratch marks. After a moment of pacing, Mason slammed his hands down on a table, the force causing the house to shake. That shake caused an acid canister Desdemona was using to disintegrate bones to topple over into the fire. All they heard was a loud crash, followed by a hissing sound, and a burst of flames came flying out. Desdemona looked around, frozen in fear, as the fire instantly engulfed the small cabin they stayed in. There was a moment of stillness before a noise erupted from Mason. Suddenly, they heard a loud snap as his body began to change quickly and noticeably. His spine bent into a hunched position, his arms elongated instantly, parts of his skin peeled and flaked, and his jaw cracked open, wide and unnatural. All Desdemona could do was stare in horror as his voice was the last thing to fade: "Desdem—" before it turned into guttural snarls. Desdemona felt the smoke filling her lungs, and after a while, she toppled over from the smoke. The last thing she saw was Mason's new form running out through a small opening in the collapsing building. She reached out, but her body was barely able to move. She heard the sounds of firefighters and police officers before she finally lost consciousness. After a while, she woke up, gasping for air as life returned to her. She looked over at her arm as a man who looked like a doctor placed a syringe down and wrapped a bandage over the small injection site. "Oh good, you're awake and alive," the man said. But all Desdemona could think about was trying to fix everything, even though it was beyond repair. She tried to stand up, only to realize she was strapped to a chair. Frantically, she moved around, trying to get out. Looking up, she saw a large glass window with four people in white lab coats observing her, jotting down notes on their clipboards. The doctor in the room opened a fridge with something to eat, speaking to her calmly while allowing her to take in her surroundings. "What's going on...?" she murmured softly, but they didn’t answer. After a few moments, that doctor sat in front of Desdemona and said, "Your friend... he’s dangerous, and we need to know where he is." Desdemona furrowed her brows and looked away, continuing to pick at her food and eating small pieces while remaining silent. After a few attempts, they decided to leave her alone, hoping that maybe she'd break soon. But that moment turned into weeks... then months. They eventually realized she wasn’t going to say anything. That's when they came into her room, and two guards grabbed her, attempting to take her somewhere else. Desdemona screamed and kicked, breaking one hand free and scratching a guard across the face. They instantly restrained her and injected her with a tranquilizer that made her pass out. When she woke up, she felt groggy and drowsy as she looked at her new surroundings. Smooth panels of reinforced steel formed the walls of her small, claustrophobic room. A harsh light flickered above her, illuminating hard, cold, easy-to-clean floors with a drain in the middle and a window similar to the previous room. There were four cameras positioned on each side of the room, but she was finally able to move around. She rushed to the window, banging on it while the same doctors blankly stared at her. Looking down, she saw a tattoo embedded into her arm: "4792." She glanced at the door marked "Observation Chamber - 7A." Desdemona started banging harder, trying to make sense of what was happening, but they didn’t respond. Eventually, she sat down on the cold ground, waiting for the next thing to occur, mentally calculating any way to escape. After a couple of hours, the door slid open, and she instantly made a run for it, only to be caught by the doctor walking in. He pushed her back into the room with the help of two guards, who restrained her again and drew blood—MRI scans, etc. The first tests she endured were sleep deprivation. They made it unbearable for her to sleep in those conditions, with a cold room, bright lights, and a loud bang that echoed in the room anytime she started to doze off. It took a toll on her, stripping her down mentally and physically to the point where she had no idea who she was anymore. Around the fifth or sixth day, she started having auditory hallucinations, as if the walls were alive, talking and breathing. She showed noticeable changes, staring blankly without blinking and not registering fear. After a few more days of this madness, she went silent, only staring intently at the cameras like a hawk, piercing the souls of anyone behind them. To see how she would react, the doctors decided to put other anomalies into her room. But regardless of the creature they brought in, all she did was stare, wide-eyed and unfaltering; at most, she would tilt her head, observing the creatures like the doctors observed her. Then, they made the worst mistake: they started injecting her. These injections bestowed her with heightened abilities, and one day, her senses became sharper. She began noticing every tiny movement through the observation window, every quiver in a person's voice, and the presence of others around her. This was particularly evident when she began repeating conversations from two floors away. Consequently, the staff informally started calling her "The Watcher" because she "always seems to know where people are." As her abilities grew stronger, she started using them to manipulate the guards and find her way to escape. --- (FILES) SCP-4792 is to be housed in a hermetically sealed, camera-free containment unit at all times. Direct eye contact with SCP-4792 is prohibited. (DESCRIPTION) SCP-4792 is an immortal humanoid entity with heightened perception and slight telepathic abilities, which include sensory trespassing and limited shapeshifting. SCP-4792 exhibits manipulative behaviors and has resisted all attempts at interrogation. Update (2025-10-02): Wendigo and Watcher were once normal individuals—not perfect, that's for sure—but they were making do with what they had. The Watcher, Desdemona at the time, was a hardworking, loyal employee at a nearby coffee shop, and she would sometimes make quick cash by stealing and selling newly released copies to leak chasers and bootleg junkies. Wendigo, on the other hand, worked at a VHS store, helping Desdemona get copies to sell while also diving deeper into his own insanity. He developed an urge for meat, but not just any form of meat—human flesh. Mason slowly took that hunger and turned it into something bigger: his first kill. After a few months, as Mason's hunger evolved and grew (along with a few missing persons down the line), he thought he had everyone fooled. That was until Desdemona walked in on him scrounging on a human being. Obviously disgusted, she didn’t understand the temptation, but she knew she had to keep them both out of trouble. So, she started helping clean up after his meals, getting rid of any evidence he left behind. She noticed that the more he ate, the more his hunger grew. She didn’t understand what was happening with him or this sudden urge he had. The bodies went from one every few days to five every week, and Desdemona knew the trail of missing persons could eventually lead to them. Mason was slowly making his way out of society, and even with all the eating, he was becoming noticeably skinny. Yet, despite his malnourished appearance, he could tear an arm off like it was paper. Every time Desdemona watched one of his feedings, she couldn't help but clench her jaw, her own sanity almost cracking. “It's just meat. It's just meat,” she would tell herself. But after a while, all she could do was blankly stare, calculating the mess, the time, and the horror of it all, becoming noticeably desensitized to the situation as the months piled up. One chilly late-fall night, at about 2 a.m., Mason was hunched over, groaning, as Desdemona had her first failure in finding an individual for him to feast on that night. Mason was becoming increasingly angry, but Desdemona didn’t take it to heart; she knew how hungry he got. The way he was acting, though, was different—and honestly, it scared her. His voice sounded almost like an animalistic, deep growl. “Do you understand what this hunger does to me? DO YOU?!” Mason shouted, shaking Desdemona like a maniac. All she could do was stare at him, watching him drool like an absolute animal, clawing at his throat and leaving noticeable scratch marks. After a moment of pacing, Mason slammed his hands down on a table, the force causing the house to shake. This movement caused an acid canister Desdemona was using to disintegrate bones to topple over into the fire. All they heard was a loud CRASH, followed by a HISS, and then a burst of flames erupted. Desdemona looked around, freezing in fear, as the fire instantly engulfed the small cabin they stayed in. There was a moment of stillness before a noise escaped Mason: “Agh…” And then they finally heard a loud SNAP as his body started changing quickly and noticeably. His spine bent in a hunched motion, and his arms instantly elongated. Parts of his skin began peeling and flaking, and his jaw cracked open wide and unnaturally. All Desdemona could do was stare in horror as his voice transformed into guttural snarls. She could feel the smoke filling her lungs, and soon she toppled over due to the smoke. The last thing she saw was Mason’s new form running out of a small opening in the collapsing building. She reached out but could barely move. She heard the sounds of firefighters and police officers before finally losing consciousness. After a while, she woke up, taking a huge gasp of air as life was brought back to her. She looked over at her arm as a man who looked like a doctor put a syringe down and wrapped a bandage over the small needle point. “Oh good, you're awake and alive,” the man said, but all Desdemona could think about was trying to fix everything, even though it was beyond repair. She tried to stand up, only to realize she was strapped into a chair. She started moving around, trying to get out, and looked up to see a big glass window with four people in doctor’s jackets looking at her and jotting down notes on their clipboards. The doctor in the room opened a fridge with food, speaking to her calmly and letting her take in her surroundings. “What’s going on?” she asked lightly, but they didn’t answer. After a few moments, that doctor sat in front of Desdemona and said, “Your friend… he’s dangerous, and we need to know where he is.” Desdemona furrowed her brows and looked away, continuing to pick at her food, eating small pieces while not saying a word. After a few attempts, they decided to leave her be, thinking maybe she would break in a moment, but that moment turned into weeks… then months. They eventually realized she wasn’t going to say anything. That was when they came into her room; two guards grabbed onto her and started trying to take her someplace else. Desdemona screamed and kicked around, breaking one hand free and scratching a guard straight across the face. They instantly held her down and injected her with something that made her pass out immediately. She woke up in a room, groggy and drowsy, looking around at the new scenery: smooth panels of reinforced steel for the walls, in a small, claustrophobic room with a harsh light flickering above her, hard, cold, easy-to-clean floors with a drain right in the middle, and a window similar to the room before. There were four cameras on each side of the room, but she was finally able to move around. She ran over to the window, banging on it, as those same doctors just blankly stared at her. She looked down and saw a tattoo embedded in her arm: “4792.” She glanced at the door number that read “Observation Chamber-7A.” She started banging harder, trying to get some sense of what was going on, but they didn’t say anything. Eventually, she sat down on the cold ground, waiting for the next thing to happen, trying to calculate any way to get out. After a couple of hours, the door started to slide open, and she instantly made a run for it. The doctor walking in caught her, pushing her back into the room with the help of two guards on either side of him. They placed her back in her restraints and started drawing blood, taking MRI scans, etc., etc. The first tests she endured were sleep deprivation. They made it unbearable for her to sleep in those conditions, with a cold room, bright lights, and a loud bang that filled the room every time she tried to fall asleep. It took a significant toll on her, stripping her down mentally and physically until she no longer knew who she was anymore. Around five to six days later, she started having auditory hallucinations, as if the walls were alive, talking and breathing. She underwent noticeable changes, staring blankly without blinking, not registering fear, and after a few more days of this madness, she went quiet. All she did was stare, watching the cameras like a hawk, locking eyes with them, piercing the soul of whoever was behind the lens. The doctors decided to put other anomalies in her room to see how she would react. But no matter the creature they brought out, all she did was stare, wide-eyed, unflinching. The most she would do was tilt her head, observing the creatures as the doctors observed her. Then they made the worst mistake: they started injecting her. These injections gave her heightened abilities. One day, her senses became sharper, allowing her to notice every tiny movement through the observation window, every shiver in a person's voice, and every presence around her. This became evident when she started repeating conversations from two floors away. That was when the staff informally began calling her "The Watcher" because she "always seems to know where people are." These abilities grew stronger over the next few days, and she became more powerful. She started using these abilities to manipulate the guards and find a way to escape. **(FILES)** SCP-4792 is to be housed in a hermetically sealed, camera-free containment unit at all times. Direct eye contact with SCP-4792 is prohibited. **(DESCRIPTION)** SCP-4792 is an immortal humanoid entity with heightened perception and slight telepathic abilities, which include sensory trespassing and limited shapeshifting. SCP-4792 shows manipulative behaviors and has resisted all attempts at interrogation.