The dragon is here,
Became a dragon here.
With that final word, a beautiful childhood fantasy quietly came to an end.
The audience in the live broadcast room fell into silence. Only after a long pause did someone sigh, just like James.
"SCP-1762 is neutralized. 'Here be dragons' becomes 'here was dragons'... So it's really over, huh?"
"Damn it. A Safe-class containment object, and it still makes a grown man feel like crying."
"This has nothing to do with gender or age. It's the collective grief over lost childhood dreams... the regret of never being able to reach them."
"..."
S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Neutralized..." Natasha Romanoff murmured.
"So, no more dragons?"
Nick Fury looked away from her and exhaled a soft sigh.
Compared to monsters like SCP-096 and SCP-682, SCP-1762 seemed insignificant.
But...
When the message changed from "the dragon is here" to "the dragon was here," and SCP-1762 was marked as neutralized, something in him sank.
He couldn't explain it—but it felt like loss.
After a long silence, he finally answered her question.
"No more dragons will fly out of the old cardboard box…"
"But at least... the dragon was here."
Future Technology Building.
Peter Parker's eyes were misty as he spoke, moved beyond words.
"Who would've thought a containment object could affect me this deeply?"
He blinked in confusion when no one responded. Turning around, he saw James hunched over a table, scribbling something. Meanwhile, Gaea was chasing something red...
Origami?
Peter froze.
Red paper. A delicate body. Yellow tape on the wings...
Wasn't that an origami dragon?
"Wait—James! Gaea!" he shouted, rushing over. "Is this it? Is it this?!"
James stopped writing, looked up calmly, and nodded.
"Yes, that's it."
Peter blinked, stunned.
"But... I thought it was already—neutralized? How...?"
Before he could finish, the origami dragon gently landed on his arm.
Peter froze, terrified that the smallest movement would crush it.
He looked back at James, waiting for an explanation.
James simply smiled and tapped his temple.
"All it takes... is a little imagination."
Peter nodded instinctively, his gaze drifting back to the dragon.
He forgot to ask.
Forgot that the origami dragon was something only a Level 4 Reality Bender could create...
Snap!
James snapped his fingers. The AI butler, Qin, responded immediately.
"Master... The SCP-MW-052 file is nearly complete. Ready to save."
Qin began scanning and uploading the file.
[Project Name: Black Bolt]
[Item No.: SCP-MW-052]
[Object Class: Euclid (Pending downgrade to Safe)]
[Special Containment Procedures:] The subject is to be housed in a facility completely isolated from electronic energy...
[Description:] SCP-MW-052 is a humanoid alien, 188 cm tall and weighing 95 kg.
Its primary anomaly: it can release destructive pseudo-sound waves via its voice.
It's believed to absorb and harness electronic energy from its environment, using it to power shockwave-generating vocal cords.
Additional abilities include enhanced strength and speed, fireball and blast bomb generation, force field creation, and flight.
James muttered as he reviewed the data.
"Still a few gaps... Let the others handle it."
"Understood."
"Now... onto the next target."
"Yes, sir."
No one outside the Future Technology Building knew what had just happened.
There was still no word from Attilan.
People across the planet were still caught in the wistful, dreamlike melancholy of the dragon's departure...
Until the screen changed.
Inside a familiar Foundation site, in a familiar cafeteria, sat three familiar faces.
"Cheers!"
Clink!
Three beer bottles tapped together, spilling foam.
Gulp gulp gulp...
Hiss—ahhh...
Lois licked her lips and let out a satisfied sigh.
"That hit the spot."
She paid no attention to James's quiet demeanor or Zyn's blank stare.
After all, they'd worked together long enough to fall into their own rhythm.
"Zyn, I heard your lab hit a rough patch?"
Zyn grumbled and nodded.
"You're too well-informed."
When James looked up too, Zyn rolled her eyes.
"It was my first failed experiment. Glass shattered, samples destroyed, and days of effort undone by one careless moment."
Lois nodded with sympathy.
"That sucks."
"That's not what got me down!" Zyn took a long swig of beer, her usual refinement replaced with uncharacteristic boldness.
"I expected them to either scold me or at least say something. But they just shrugged and walked off!"
"It hurts to be ignored," Lois said gently, changing the topic.
Zyn nodded, bitterness in her voice.
"When I threw out the gloves and rags, I realized... it's not that they don't like me. They don't even know me. Few remember my face. Fewer know my name."
She laughed dryly.
"Why would anyone care about the mistakes of a nobody?"
"Those people are psychos," Lois cursed. "Sometimes I wonder if they're even human—or just clones and robots."
Zyn was mid-sip when James suddenly asked:
"So what will you do now?"
Zyn straightened up immediately, her fire returning.
"I saw a message the other day. Two new interns joined the lab."
"Allies?" James asked.
"Allies!" she confirmed, and they exchanged a knowing smile. All three laughed together.
As the night wore on, Zyn and Lois grew curious about James's recent work.
"Did you apply for a Keter-level project?" Lois asked.
Zyn leaned forward.
"Actually, I just finished a Safe-level project," James replied, voice softening as he recalled SCP-1762.
He told them the story of the origami dragons and their whimsical world. The two women listened intently, eyes sparkling with wonder.
When he finished, they sighed together.
"The Foundation really gave up on it?" Lois asked, disappointed. "I thought they'd research that illusion world or something..."
"The Foundation doesn't believe in fantasy," James said quietly. "Only in science. Cold, hard facts."
Lois and Zyn exchanged a glance.
The live stream chat, however, was overflowing with emotion.
"Damn. That's exactly how I feel."
"Looks like James really cared about the origami dragons too."
"Who wouldn't? That was our childhood flying away forever."
"Haha... ouch."
Back in the cafeteria, silence returned. Then James broke it.
"I applied for a field project. Keter-level."
Lois blinked in surprise.
"Congrats. Once you're outside, you're the lead researcher—Dr. James."
"What kind of project?" Zyn asked.
James smiled.
"An angel."
Angel?
The live stream chat exploded. Even the special chat group buzzed.
[Deadpool]: Angel? First we had God, then Abel and Cain—what's next, Lucifer?
[Steve]: I'm more concerned about what kind of anomalous features it has. Is it hostile?
[Tony]: Captain! It's Keter-class! That means it's terrifying!
[Natasha Romanoff]: Maybe it's a hot guy?
[Hawkeye]: Romanoff, maybe lay off the fairy tales.
Kamar-Taj.
"Angel?" The Ancient One frowned, recalling the divine implications of that word. Could it be another god-tier entity?
S.H.I.E.L.D.
While Natasha bantered with Hawkeye in the group, Fury watched the screen in silence, curious.
Then an agent rushed over, anxious.
"Sir, the signal we left on Attilan... It's gone."
Fury's brow furrowed.
Attilan—the mobile city of the Inhumans.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had only installed minimal surveillance to avoid provoking them. But now?
"Did they relocate again?"
"Unknown," the agent said, shaking his head.
"Keep investigating."
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
"Angel?" Professor X stared at the screen.
The image of Warren Worthington III came to mind—white wings, healing feathers, and his X-Men nickname: Angel.
"Could it be someone like Warren?"
The sky-darkened screen lit up again, revealing James at a new site.
He was flanked by white-coated researchers. A bald man with glasses gave instructions with grave intensity.
"SCP-469 is extremely sensitive to sound. When collecting feather samples, make absolutely no noise."
SCP-469?
Angel?
Sensitive to sound?
The chat's curiosity peaked as the file appeared.
[Project Name: Ten Thousand-Winged Angel]
[Item #: SCP-469]
[Object Class: Keter]
The title alone stunned the audience.
"Ten Thousand-Winged Angel?"
"So it really does have thousands of wings?"
[Special Containment Procedures:]
SCP-469 must be held in a fully soundproofed chamber measuring 15.24m on all sides.
Entry is restricted to D-class personnel in SPAR suits.
No sound-producing devices permitted. Communication must be done silently.
Comments flooded in:
"Wait—an Angel that can't hear a sound?"
"How do you even study something like that?"
"I want to know what happens if it hears something…"
Then came the description:
[Description:]
SCP-469 initially appears to be a mound of white feathers roughly 8.84 meters wide and weighing several tons.
Upon closer inspection, it's a tightly bundled mass of wings. Some wings are just a few centimeters long; others span over a meter.
All are covered in pristine, glossy white feathers.