Now it made sense.
Finally, the audience in the global live broadcast understood what Dr. Kondraki had meant when he said, "If you don't handle this well, you'll get dragged into an O5 mess."
Because the subject they were dealing with wasn't just any SCP.
It was the daughter of O5-12.
The entire livestream erupted.
> "Wait WHAT?! That's whose daughter?!"
> "You're telling me that Safe-class anomaly belongs to an O5?!"
> "Man, forget Keter. This is political containment!"
As if that wasn't shocking enough, Dr. Kondraki leaned back in his chair and said coolly:
> "Strictly speaking... I brought this trouble on myself."
James—formerly known as Lin Lang—raised an eyebrow. "Are you referring to... the SCP-083 execution incident?"
Kondraki went quiet.
He lit another cigarette. Inhaled deeply.
And exhaled slowly.
"Yeah," he muttered, "that time."
At that moment, Marvel audiences felt a chill. That incident was infamous.
Dr. Kondraki's unauthorized termination of SCP-083 had nearly destroyed Site-19.
Dozens of anomalies were affected.
SCP-682 itself broke containment.
Even high-yield conceptual weapons failed to contain the chaos.
But now… was there more to it?
James pressed, "Dr. Gears once wrote that you tried to ride SCP-682 during that breach."
Dr. Kondraki scratched his head and looked away.
No answer.
Which, of course, was its own answer.
Marvel agents went wide-eyed.
> "You're kidding me—he actually rode 682?"
> "That's so unhinged it just might be real."
Even James seemed stunned. "So... you caused the breach on purpose?"
"Not exactly how Gears described it, but... close enough," Kondraki admitted. "Yeah. I released 682. Intentionally."
He said it like he was confessing to skipping breakfast—not releasing a murder lizard.
James narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
The air thickened as Kondraki crushed his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray.
Then he spoke:
> "Because I realized the O5 Command was pulling my strings like I was some marionette."
James blinked. "So... you released a planet-killing lizard because the O5 were micromanaging you?"
"No. Not just that," Kondraki snapped. He was agitated now, fishing for another cigarette and failing. "People get picked—manipulated. Some get promoted just to be used. And when the game's over, they're discarded. Forgotten. Suicides, mutinies, quiet terminations."
The broadcast room went silent.
Even SHIELD's agents looked at each other, disturbed.
Kondraki's voice was rising now. "Clef? He's a great example. His insane Termination Log proposal? Approved by O5-7. My own plan in 'The Duke's End'? Approved by the Council."
He leaned forward with a bitter grin.
> "Tell me. Why would a Council of godlike administrators repeatedly try to kill their own top-level researchers—and fail?"
James said nothing.
Kondraki's expression darkened.
> "Because they didn't try."
His tone shifted, becoming ice-cold.
> "The O5 Council 'adopts' high-level staff. Uses them. Gives them just enough leash to make noise, attract attention. Then disavows them."
> "They sign off on dangerous plans, let them crash and burn—and clean up afterward."
The world watching froze.
Even cosmic beings like Uatu were unnerved.
SHIELD's Nick Fury sat forward, expression unreadable. He was drawing dangerous parallels.
Dr. Kondraki had just cracked open the core of the Foundation's structure.
And it didn't look noble.
> "The O5 Council isn't unified," he continued. "Some are manipulators. Others are clueless. Some just don't care."
The livestream comments exploded.
> "Wait, there's division within the O5?!"
> "So they're not an omniscient council? Just... squabbling gods?"
> "No wonder some anomalies never get resolved."
Kondraki sighed and slouched in his chair. "At first, I accepted it. Went along with it. But then... I found out the truth."
James watched him. "And?"
"I fought back," Kondraki said. "That's what the 083 breach really was. A message. To them."
He looked down.
"They heard it. Omega-7 was shut down. Kain's Olympian Initiative? Gone. The Egg Walker? Shelved. Every single weaponization project—terminated."
He chuckled bitterly.
> "Even my butterfly project. They stuck it in a greenhouse."
James finally spoke, voice steady: "So. What do you want from me?"
Kondraki stood, resting a hand on James' shoulder.
> "You're young. Smart. I watched you rise from nothing."
He smiled faintly.
> "Just promise me—if you ever become an Overseer… don't become one of them."
James didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Kondraki handed him a sealed file.
"If you've got time," he said, "go check out this guy. They destroyed an entire site trying to contain him."
James raised an eyebrow. "Destroyed a site?"
Even the audience recoiled.
> "WHAT?"
> "You failed to contain him and lost a whole site?!"
James opened the file later that night, back in his dorm.
The header read:
> [Project Name: The Old Man Whose Origin Is Unknown]
[Item #: SCP-1440]
[Object Class: Keter]
Keter.
That word hit like a punch to the chest.
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents groaned audibly.
Natasha scowled at the screen. "Keter again? Does this guy attract anomalies or what?"
Nick Fury sighed. "He's a Level 4 researcher now. What did you expect?"
> "With great clearance comes... more paperwork," Fury muttered.
James flipped through the file.
> [Special Containment Procedures:]
SCP-1440 is currently uncontained.
Attempts at containment have led to massive structural losses.
Monitoring and avoidance is the current protocol.
James paused.
SCPs that were uncontainable weren't new. But this felt different.
He kept reading.
> [Description:]
SCP-1440 is an elderly male, origin unknown. Appears to be 80–90 years old, though has shown no aging since first contact over fifty years ago.
> Whenever asked about name, place, or time of birth, SCP-1440 refuses to answer—or possibly does not remember.
James frowned.
> "Another immortal?"
The Marvel audience had the same thought.
> "Bro, immortality is getting crowded."
> "682, 343, now this guy?"
But then—
James reached the next line.
> [SCP-1440's anomalous properties begin manifesting within days of contact with human settlements or artificial constructs.]
> [He exerts a negative field—a kind of entropy—that causes collapse. People. Machines. Entire cities.]
> [The only objects unaffected are SCP-1440 himself and his belongings.]
James nearly dropped the file.
He wasn't just immortal. He was a walking apocalypse.
SHIELD's monitors beeped.
Natasha read aloud, horrified:
> "Any human or human-made structure near SCP-1440 for an extended period... will eventually be destroyed."
Nick Fury leaned back in his chair.
"He doesn't kill people. The universe does it for him."
James turned to the last page.
A brief mission report.
SCP-1440 had passed through a Foundation site.
Within six days, every automated system failed.
Security personnel died mysteriously.
By Day 10—the entire site collapsed.
James closed the file slowly.
He stared ahead.
Then said what everyone was thinking:
> "This isn't just a containment issue."
> "This is a walking curse."
---
To be continued...
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