The sixth beat was missed again.
Everyone froze.
The French horn player's eyes dimmed, like the life had drained from him.
Then, it happened.
He saw Them, and They saw him.
Not just one entity, but billions—billions of reflections, faces, thoughts. The impossible shape was a collection of infinite watchers. In their vision, there were antlers, glowing metal spheres, and icy rings, and even more beyond comprehension.
A twisted melody, a reversed symphony started to form. This being wasn't just watching. It was about to answer—with music. But not just any music—a response to the band's ritual.
He tilted his head.
The world leaned with him.
The timpani clapped…
The oboe played its final note…
The horn player took a breath…
Just fifty meters away, the stag, SCP-2845, watched through a warped and shaking reality.
Then, guided by instinct, the horn player blew out the final G-sharp.
The last note was played.
The horn player applauded.
And the Stag watched silently, its countless arms clapping like a divine audience asking for more. Seven more missed notes. One more song.
But then—He stopped.
The horrible ammonia stench vanished. So did His stare.
The Stag's rage melted away. His strange, reality-bending behavior came to a halt.
He stood still, unmoving at the mouth of the valley, like a stunned actor reliving a powerful performance.
In the soft drizzle, whispers began to rise.
Everyone stared at the godlike creature frozen in place—SCP-2845, no longer hostile.
Until a voice spoke clearly—
"Procedure 420-Perinaldo worked! SCP-2845's initial containment procedures were successful."
The voice was from James.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds…
Then—the world erupted.
A wave of celebration shook the globe.
Inside and outside the broadcast, the cheers roared like a tsunami.
Everyone in the Marvel Universe watching the screen felt like they had woken up from a surreal nightmare.
And then the truth hit them all at once:
"The Foundation has just contained a Supreme God."
Yes—
SCP-2845, the divine Stag, was contained.
And in that moment, the internet exploded:
> "WTF? It actually worked?!"
> "I swear I thought they were all gonna die!"
> "That guy missed a note! I thought it was over, but it turned out to be perfect?"
> "When all those eyes popped open, I nearly screamed! This is unreal!"
> "Bro, this was the Supreme Godhead! How did humans pull this off?!"
Meanwhile, at the Stark Industries Building, Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes stood frozen like statues.
It wasn't until the wave of cheers broke through the speakers that they snapped back to reality.
"Holy hell," Tony muttered. "They… actually did it?"
Colonel Rhodes nodded, eyebrows high. "It's like dancing on a razor blade… but yeah. They made it."
The two men looked at each other and sighed deeply.
At Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One watched quietly.
Even she couldn't believe that such a bizarre and seemingly foolish ritual had succeeded.
She finally understood what James meant when he submitted his proposal to the Ethics Committee.
SCP-2845—the Stag—was an ancient god, far beyond any physical form of containment.
But he had a flaw.
He was incredibly powerful... and incredibly stupid.
So the only way to "hold" him was through rituals—dark, twisted performances that tricked the god into believing that humans had divine power too.
There was no other way.
Not because they didn't try—but because the universe itself only allowed this one path.
Six rituals. None could be skipped.
In the deepest dimension of the cosmos, the Watcher Uatu stared at the screen, stunned.
How could such an absurd method fool a being like SCP-2845?
Still, he was relieved.
Because had this containment failed—
This universe might no longer exist.
But now, Uatu narrowed his eyes and said quietly:
"Gods can be tricked. But if they realize it… nothing will stop them. What will the Foundation do then?"
At S.H.I.E.L.D., the agents stood dumbfounded.
"So… this alien god… was trapped by a human stage act?" Natasha Romanoff said.
"Sounds like a twisted comic book plot," she added.
Nick Fury chuckled and let out a breath. "If James and the Foundation from that world could do it, then I believe we can too."
Then he smiled. "James did well."
"Yeah… but at what cost," Natasha murmured, her expression serious. "That was the Supreme Godhead. We don't need more like him."
The screen moved on.
Buildings sprouted around the Stag, fast as mushrooms after rain.
In just two days, Site-100 was complete.
February 3: Final containment procedures implemented.
February 19: The Foundation announced complete containment of SCP-2845.
It was over.
Then James appeared again.
With him was a long-lost face—O5-10, the mysterious supervisor.
She looked at James with complex eyes—pride, regret, admiration… and a touch of guilt.
Finally, she said, "I can't approve your project."
James simply nodded.
The supervisor groaned internally. Here we go again.
"I'll try to get more O5s to approve it," she muttered. "But no promises."
The live broadcast audience was furious:
> "WHAT project? Tell us already!"
But the screen shifted again.
James was back at Site-17, the usual cafeteria, beer in hand.
"Hey," said Lois, tossing an arm around him. "Where've you been? SCP-999's been waiting for you!"
James didn't reply.
Zyn looked at Lois. "You didn't hear? He's now an expert in the Department of Tactical Theology."
"What?!" Lois gasped. "You? James? YOU'RE the one being called the fifth legendary doctor?"
James took another sip of beer.
Lois shouted, "You've become like the Four Doctors of Apocalypse?! Bro, we were supposed to be a trio!"
Zyn added with a smirk, "Face it, Lois, you're dragging us down."
"WHAT?! Wtf—"
Lois nearly fell off her chair when Zyn showed her badge—she was now a high-level researcher.
"You too?!"
Lois gave up, slumping over her beer.
"Man… I was gonna brag today. Instead, I find out both of you are big shots now."
Still, considering how dangerous the SCP Foundation was—
The fact that these three survived for over ten years and rose in rank was almost a miracle.
Zyn looked at James and said, "SCP-999 missed you. And so did the female researchers, to be honest."
"Seriously?" Lois groaned. "Even the inmates care about looks now? What happened to regular people getting a chance?"
James ignored the chatter. "How's Dr. Kondraki?"
Suddenly, both Lois and Zyn tensed.
James noticed their silence and raised an eyebrow.
Finally, Lois spoke, "He… got suspended."
"Suspended?!" James said in disbelief.
Even the audience was stunned.
"Dr. Kondraki? What happened?"
At S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury frowned.
"Maybe he was right all along."
"You mean the O5 Council was targeting him?" Natasha asked.
Fury's face darkened. "No… it's something else. Something we forgot."
He turned to the screen and said one word:
"Rebirth Project."
Lois added grimly:
"It's not just Kondraki. Dr. Clef, Dr. Gears, Professor Kain… all suspended."
The viewers gasped.
Many remembered seeing those names earlier.
They were all on the Rebirth Project list.
James narrowed his eyes.
"So… it's really begun."
"Begun? What?" Lois asked.
James ignored her.
"What's the status of SCP-105?"
"Iris?" Zyn replied quietly. "She was transferred after a containment breach…"
James' eyes turned sharp.
The air went cold.
He downed his beer in one gulp and stood. "Sorry. I have to go."
Zyn stopped him. "Wait. If you want to see what happened, I can show you the video."
She called Lois, and the three rushed out.
The live chat exploded again:
> "Wait—is this about that girl James saved with a fake suicide?!"
> "She saved his life! No wonder he's acting like this."
Soon, they reached Zyn's office.
She inserted a tape.
The screen flickered.
And the first image that appeared…
Left James—and the entire Marvel Universe—completely stunned.
WTF?!
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