The audience watching the live broadcast were stunned when James seemed to go completely idle for a period of time.
No more white-coated researchers were issuing missions. There was no need for him to interact with those terrifying containment objects. The only thing that felt off was the shift in the way the other D-Class personnel at the base started to look at him.
Wherever James went, D-Class personnel made an effort to avoid him. Their expressions carried the unmistakable look of fear, as though they were looking at a dead man walking.
"I heard this guy actually volunteered to join that madman Dr. K's mission..." one whispered.
"Too many D-Class personnel died in the last containment mission. That guy's share of it isn't enough to cover his life..." another muttered.
"Insane! This guy is a lunatic!" a third person remarked.
The live audience quickly pieced things together. It was after James agreed to join Dr. Kondraki's mission that the attitude toward him began to shift so drastically.
The audience was now curious: What exactly was Dr. Kondraki's mission? What was so terrifying about it that it made people so fearful?
Just then, the screen cut to black.
A few moments later, the familiar gruff voice of Dr. Kondraki echoed over the speakers, accompanied by the sound of a roaring engine. In the video, he was wearing his signature khaki windbreaker, a baseball cap perched on his head, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
If anything, he looked less like someone heading into a life-threatening situation and more like a man preparing for a weekend getaway.
In front of him stood eight D-Class personnel clad in bright orange jumpsuits. Among them was James.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. Kondraki's voice was heard, his cigarette almost an extension of himself, "Welcome to this containment mission!" He grinned widely. "Whether you're a warrior who joined voluntarily or an unlucky soul who was chosen, I want to make one thing clear: you are all going to die!"
The bluntness of Dr. Kondraki's words stirred up chaos among the D-Class personnel. One middle-aged woman started sobbing uncontrollably, while others stood fuming in anger. Only James and a young man standing beside him remained calm.
The boy, appearing no older than 20 and about 1.7 meters tall, had an average face. His features were pale, and it was clear that fear had gripped him. But despite his fear, he held it together and didn't break down.
James, noticing the boy's composure, regarded him with a brief look of curiosity. The boy blinked back at him before quietly whispering, "Hey, I heard you volunteered for this mission too?"
James gave a simple nod, not offering much else. He wasn't one to speak unnecessarily. But the audience watching the live feed was left in a state of shock.
Not only had James volunteered for the mission, but this young man had done so as well?
Among the crowd of D-Class personnel, a frustrated bearded man spoke up, his voice carrying over the roar of the engine.
"Why do we have to die? Why do you maniacs get off so easily, letting us die like this?" he shouted, gesturing at Dr. Kondraki. "In the last containment experiment alone, over a hundred people died because of you!"
His words echoed in the air, piercing through the tension. "Compared to the blood debt we carry, you're nothing but an executioner—an executioner who's responsible for the deaths of countless people!"
The room fell silent as the D-Class personnel paused in shock. The question hung in the air, clear and cutting. Even the audience watching the broadcast couldn't help but pause and reflect.
After a moment's thought, the superheroes in the super chat group couldn't help but discuss the matter.
[Tony]:To be honest, this reminds me of the innocent people who died because of me in those catastrophic accidents...
[Steve]:Some deaths are unavoidable, but I feel sorry for those who perish in unforeseen circumstances. But... at least we saved more people, didn't we?
[little Spider-Man]:But even if those D-Class personnel don't have human rights, the agents and researchers shouldn't have died in vain, right?
At SHIELD headquarters, Nick Fury watched the conversation unfold in the chat group. His thoughts were already churning.
He remembered hearing Dr. Kondraki mention something about a department called the Ethics Committee. Could this committee be responsible for evaluating the moral and ethical implications within the Foundation? He was eager to learn more, but he was also intrigued about how Dr. Kondraki would respond to such a direct challenge.
To everyone's surprise, Dr. Kondraki didn't respond with any form of guilt or explanation. Instead, he simply shrugged and gave a short reply:
"Yes, I am an executioner."
The gravity of his words hung in the air. Everyone around him seemed to shrink back as they were stared down by his cold, unfeeling gaze. The room was stiflingly quiet, as if the chill of his words had frozen them all in place.
Subtly, a strange, almost imperceptible sound filled the air—like the delicate flap of butterfly wings. But before anyone could fully process the sensation, Dr. Kondraki turned and walked toward the mobile task force and agents standing nearby.
A moment later, his hearty laughter echoed through the surroundings.
"My chosen warriors," Dr. Kondraki announced, his voice brimming with mock enthusiasm, "there's no doubt in my mind that you all have strong religious convictions." He grinned wider, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Remember, when you encounter those damned things later, don't hesitate. Use your silver bullets and blast them to pieces—no mercy."
Inside SHIELD, the agents were still reeling from the events unfolding on the screen.
"Uh, this Dr. Kondraki... is really something else," one of the agents muttered under his breath.
"But in the end, they're trying to protect humanity, right?" another agent responded.
Nick Fury, however, didn't respond to the chatter. Instead, he stroked his chin thoughtfully, his gaze narrowing.
"Religious beliefs, silver bullets..." He murmured. "Could it be that the anomaly this time is a vampire or a werewolf?"
Maria, his assistant, rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Director, that's pure fantasy—there's no scientific basis for any of that. It's all made up by those authors."
Nick Fury shot her a sidelong glance before shaking his head.
"Don't you see? There's no such thing as impossible in this world. I think it's outrageous too, but... have you ever considered that none of the containment methods we've seen so far are exactly scientific?"
Perhaps to validate his suspicions, a file finally appeared on the screen. The audience collectively leaned forward, eager to read more.
[Project Name: Death Gate]
[Object Class: Keter (Presumed Neutralized)]
Nick Fury's eyes widened in surprise. Neutralized? Another new level of containment. And this one was labeled as Keter class.
He couldn't help but recall the last time SCP-682 had appeared on screen. That monster, which was immortal and constantly evolving, had also been classified as Keter. If Death Gate was also classified as Keter, then it could be just as dangerous—if not worse.
The file continued:
[Special Containment Procedures: Outpost 54 has been established on the land surrounding SCP-1983 and disguised as a chemical factory. The 'factory' building serves as barracks for Mobile Task Force Chi-13 ChoirBoys.]
[All entrances into Outpost 54 are to be guarded at all times. Personnel are to refer to Document 1983-12 for official instructions on how to deal with any overly curious civilians.]
The live broadcast went silent for a moment. The weight of what had been revealed hung heavy in the air. The Death Gate. SCP-1983. A Keter-class anomaly, possibly more dangerous than anything the Foundation had ever faced.
Nick Fury's mind raced. What kind of anomaly could require such extreme measures? What was waiting behind that so-called "Death Gate"? And most importantly, what role would James play in this upcoming mission?
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