On her laptop, Dr. Wheeler displayed her completed diagram.
What she had drawn was a strange, hand-shaped pattern with fivefold symmetry. It had no wrist or arm—just five long, human-like fingers pointing outward in five directions.
At its center was a pentagonal opening, disturbingly like a mouth.
On the wall behind her in the video feed, a massive two-meter green collage was mounted. It was the same pattern, but magnified a hundredfold in detail.
Smaller illustrations, spore-like in appearance, floated around the central figure—arms, body, and a yawning mouth.
---
The moment this pattern appeared on the screen, an invisible dread swept across the entire Marvel universe.
---
Kamar-Taj.
The Ancient One froze as if struck by lightning.
Her heart pounded violently, her thoughts scattering like glass.
Her eyes were locked on the abstract image.
Even though it was only a drawing—just an abstract representation—
Even though it was her first time seeing such a form—
A name surfaced in her mind against her will:
The Cosmic Starfish.
The Holy Starfish
The Perfect Pentagon
The Walker of the Fifth Dimension
The Dreamer Above the Stars and the Sky
Fear surged into her chest, primal and suffocating.
It was the same fear she had felt when she first glimpsed the projection of the Crimson King—but sharper, faster, overwhelming.
The Ancient One staggered, nearly drowned in terror.
---
At the edge of the universe.
Uatu the Watcher, still repairing a 0.13-degree tear between the Observer Realm and the real dimension, turned his gaze toward the broadcast.
The moment he saw the sigil, he froze.
The concept of the Cosmic Starfish slammed into his mind like a meteor.
Terror followed instantly.
He knew—deeply, instinctively—that if such an existence fully manifested in reality, it would devour every abstract concept in the local cognitive sphere… and the shockwave would devastate the physical universe itself.
Uatu's eyes trembled as he stared at the screen.
---
On screen.
Wheeler's voice, weary and urgent, echoed from the laptop:
> "How do you fight an enemy you don't even know exists?
How do you win a war you don't realize you're fighting?
What are we supposed to do?"
The audience in the livestream held their breath.
If SCP-3125 had truly arrived—then reality itself was seconds away from collapse.
And the Antimemetics Division… what could they possibly do?
---
Wheeler continued:
> "Seven years ago, there were over four hundred antimemetics research teams across the world—government agencies, military branches, private groups, university labs.
We had alliances with most of them.
Thousands of people, united as the Antimemetics Alliance."
Her voice cracked.
> "Now, they're gone. Every single one. The last disappeared within seventy-two hours."
Her expression dimmed further.
> "Three years ago, the Foundation's Antimemetics Division had over four thousand personnel. Now? Ninety remain."
The Wheeler in the present shook her head in disbelief at her past self's words.
> "There was no war," the recording said bitterly. "We lost before it even began. This is just cleanup.
The only reason we're still standing is because we're the global leader in amnestic biotechnology.
Because that's all anyone can do after seeing SCP-3125—run… and then try to forget what they saw."
She gave a harsh, hollow laugh.
> "And even that doesn't always work. It's on patrol. We see it again and again, without even realizing it.
There's no way to avoid it forever. We're too damn smart!"
---
The livestream audience shuddered.
Now they finally understood what the Foundation files had hinted at:
SCP-3125 is everywhere.
You can erase the memory.
You can drink it away, drug it away, bash it out of your skull.
But the moment you think, you rediscover it.
And the cycle repeats.
A despair with no escape.
---
The video Wheeler pointed to something offscreen.
The present Wheeler looked up at the corner of her room—where a messy sprawl of coordinate diagrams filled the wall.
Every page bore Hughes' initials.
> "We could build a machine," the recording said. "It would take eight years, a laboratory the size of West Virginia, and all the money in the world. The O5 Council wouldn't even blink at the request.
But how do you build it without realizing what it's for?"
She laughed bitterly.
> "It'd be like building Apollo 11 without knowing the moon exists. The logistics would be insane, the secrecy impossible. Someone would ask questions. And then it would all be over.
So… what can we do?"
---
The livestream chat exploded.
> "So the Antimemetics Division already lost?!"
"Site-41 is the last safe zone?! The world's basically over!"
"God… even Wheeler's despairing? That means humanity is finished…"
---
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nick Fury stared at the feed in grim silence.
Every word Wheeler spoke tightened the knot in his chest.
He couldn't see the Cosmic Starfish itself.
But he could see what it had done.
It had destroyed the Antimemetics Division.
And now, humanity was exposed—naked before SCP-3125.
---
In the video, Wheeler's voice cracked with anger at her own fatalism:
> "Find another way. What's wrong with you?"
She glared at the screen, shaking.
> "I could tell everyone to disband the Antimemetics Division. I could leave a message for myself: 'This is a dead end. Shut it down.'
But I'd doubt it.
I'd start asking questions.
And then… it'd all be over again."
The Wheeler in the present clutched her head, whispering to herself:
> "You're not like this. You're stronger than this. What's wrong with you?"
Her past self answered with despair:
> "I don't know how we're supposed to survive. I don't know how to win.
We're the last group left in the world.
There will be no one after us."
The Wheeler in the room shook her head violently, refusing to believe it.
But her past self's words cut deeper:
> "So I'm done. I'll go out, forget who I am, and become you, Wheeler.
And you'll try to find a solution.
Because I can't."
---
To Be Continued….
Extra chapter avilable in PATREON
patreon.com/Achilles_Stein
patreon.com/Achilles_Stein