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Dr. Kondraki walked out of the smoking ruins of Site-19… carrying the Duke's skull.
Blood still dripped from the massive bone like rain off a blade. His coat was torn, burned, and soaked in grime. And yet, he strolled as if he were returning from a casual evening jog.
The moment this image flickered across the livestream feed, both worlds lost their minds.
The chat erupted like a volcano.
"WTF??? He actually DID IT?!"
"He killed the Duke and took his SKULL?!"
"This is so metal I need an exorcism!"
"Dr. Kondraki: breaks every law of physics, logic, and containment protocol—and walks away like a hero."
But amidst the awe and meme-worthy reactions, a sobering realization dawned on everyone.
This man had just turned Site-19 into a battlefield.
And he was just… leaving?
"Hold on. He's really walking away?"
"What about the dozens of breached SCPs??"
"Is he seriously not going to clean up any of this?"
Even inside S.H.I.E.L.D., where high-level agents had seen more anomalies than most living beings could comprehend, the silence was deafening.
Nick Fury stood stiffly, jaw clenched. His eye twitched once—a sign of deep, world-ending frustration.
"I told him to terminate 083," he muttered. "He terminated the entire facility."
No one replied.
Because the list of casualties hadn't even been updated yet.
682 had been released.
173 was loose.
Entire wings of Site-19 had been pulverized, imploded, or simply vanished.
And Kondraki? He just wiped his hands clean and strolled out like a rogue cowboy in a black comedy.
"I finally get what that old man meant," Fury murmured. "He said—'Looking back, it would've been cheaper to shoot Kondraki.' Now I understand."
At this point, the threat level of Dr. Kondraki had officially surpassed multiple Keter-level SCPs.
He was no longer just a doctor. He was a force of entropy.
And the video file ended.
The auditorium in Site-19 Headquarters descended into chaos.
A dozen researchers stood up at once.
"I can't believe this guy's our superior!" one doctor shouted. "He destroyed the largest Foundation base like it was his backyard sandbox!"
"I kind of want to call him a jerk and walk out," another muttered.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed behind the crowd:
"What are we all watching?"
The room went silent.
Everyone froze.
One doctor, still facing the screen, replied without thinking, "Just footage of our boss razing Site-19 to the ground with a goddamn lizard…"
"Oh. Sounds impressive."
Someone elbowed him, panic dawning. "Dude—dude, turn around."
"Huh? Why—?"
He turned.
And found himself face to face with Dr. Kondraki.
Still bloodstained.
Still holding the Duke's skull.
Smiling.
"Now that's a conversation I like to hear," Kondraki said cheerfully.
The doctor's soul visibly exited his body.
"I—I think I forgot something in the lab—I should—"
"Hey, don't run just yet." Kondraki slung an arm over his shoulder, grinning at the rest of the room. "Anyone want popcorn?"
Sweat instantly coated the terrified man's neck.
Fortunately, Kondraki only chuckled and waved him off. "Relax. I only eat vampire Dukes now."
The man nearly tripped in his hurry to escape.
Soon, the room cleared out, leaving only a few familiar faces: Dr. Clef, Dr. Bright, and James.
Even someone as shameless as Kondraki looked a little awkward.
"…What?" he said. "Wasn't the mission to terminate the Duke? I did that."
Dr. Bright walked up, clapped him on the back, and said with a smirk, "Oh, absolutely. You terminated him. And a cafeteria. And a floor. And our sanity."
He walked off, chuckling.
Dr. Clef followed, arms crossed, a lopsided grin on his face. "Next time I need a nuclear option, I'll give you a call."
That one stung.
Kondraki turned toward Dr. Gears, hoping for something less sarcastic.
"Hey, Gears, can I get at least a pat on the back?"
Gears looked him over, nodded solemnly, and said, "Congratulations."
"…That's it?"
But the man was already walking away.
Kondraki turned to the last remaining person—James, who was quietly collecting his notebook.
"What's with them?" Kondraki asked. "Why does it feel like everyone's acting like I nuked the building?"
James paused.
"Maybe because you did."
Kondraki frowned. "I call it strategic demolition."
James smirked. "Sure. And I call that a very public rebranding campaign."
Kondraki blinked. "Wait… what do you mean?"
James pointed up.
Kondraki turned—and froze.
A large banner hung above the room.
"CONGRATULATIONS, DR. KONDRADKI: FAMOUS AGAIN (AND STILL EMPLOYED?)"
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
James patted him on the shoulder. "You're trending across two universes. Enjoy the fame."
He turned and walked out.
Kondraki stared after him, caught between pride and the creeping dread of paperwork.
Moments later, in the hallway outside the conference room…
James was intercepted by a camera crew.
"Excuse me, sir," the interviewer said politely. "Mind answering a few questions?"
James gave a polite nod. "Depends on the questions."
"First—how would you assess the success of the 083 termination operation?"
James answered without hesitation. "The mission was successful."
The interviewer blinked. "Really? But what about Site-19's destruction?"
James' smile faded.
"I feel sorry for what happened to Site-19."
"Then, in your opinion," the reporter pressed, "is Dr. Kondraki a potential threat to the Foundation?"
The hall grew still.
James didn't speak for a moment.
Then, with calm finality, he replied:
"No comment."
He turned and walked off.
Back in S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury had been monitoring the conversation.
And he didn't like what he saw.
"…He's hiding something," Fury said quietly.
Victor Hale nodded. "He chose not to comment on a doctor who rode 682 and destroyed half a base. That's not nothing."
Fury didn't say it aloud, but one phrase kept echoing in his head:
"There is no Antimemes Division here."
Which was strange.
Because according to S.H.I.E.L.D. records—and several missing pages from their cross-dimensional Foundation liaison report—there had been an Antimemes Division once.
But now?
Nothing.
No records.
No logs.
No memory.
Just a strange absence.
One that made even Nick Fury uncomfortable.
Because when you forget something without realizing it…
It usually means someone doesn't want you to remember.
To be continued…