Wheeler had no idea her actions were being witnessed by audiences across two universes.
She was just as stubborn as ever.
> "We won the war the day it began. When we first encountered SCP-3125, we built this bunker."
As if to strengthen her own resolve, she whispered to herself:
> "Hughes faked his death and isolated himself here to work undisturbed, while the rest of the Division bought time for this moment. I know I made this choice because it was what had to be done. I was the last piece. He was waiting for me."
The livestream audience froze.
Hughes? Alive?
---
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nick Fury slapped his thigh.
"I knew it! I knew Hughes wasn't dead!"
Natasha Romanoff rolled her eyes.
"Leon Lake figured that out ages ago."
But even she couldn't hide the faint excitement in her expression.
Even if it was only Wheeler's self-consolation, the very idea sparked hope across the Marvel world.
The Antimemetics Division hadn't been completely blind. They had been playing a long game for years.
Despair gave way to anticipation. Every viewer leaned closer to the screen.
---
On screen.
The airlock opened into an enormous chamber—an airplane hangar in scale.
The hot, stale air pressed down as Wheeler stumbled across the hectare of empty epoxy floor.
Dust clung to her shoes.
"Hughes!" she shouted, her voice echoing. "It's time!"
Her words ricocheted back from the walls, hollow and lonely.
No answer.
The audience's hopeful smiles froze. Unease gnawed at their hearts.
The chamber was empty.
---
The massive meme-amplification unit Hughes was supposed to have built was nowhere in sight.
And Hughes himself… was not here.
Wheeler's face twitched in confusion.
"Maybe… maybe the entire machine is hidden by antimemes?"
But she instantly shook her head.
"No. My mind is already reinforced with the strongest memory-serum ever made. If there was something here, I'd see it. And there's nothing."
Almost nothing.
At the center of the hangar stood a small outpost: some trestle tables littered with tools, a flat-tired military truck, and behind it, a squat machine wired to a heavy control panel.
---
Wheeler's breath caught.
"Hydrogen-bomb-level antimemes…"
Her voice trembled.
> "It's the Division's on-site nuke. Once activated, it will contaminate Site-41 and everything in range.
There will be no more Site-41. No more Antimemetics Division.
Anyone infected who escapes will be erased from the real world as if they never existed."
She closed her eyes in pain.
"This is the wrong machine…"
---
It could not destroy or contain SCP-3125. It couldn't even harm it.
It could only suppress the outbreak—delay the inevitable.
Whether fifty years, ten years, five… or tomorrow—SCP-3125 would return.
And when it did, human civilization would be devoured and replaced by something unspeakable.
---
Wheeler leaned on the ray gun for a long time.
Her thoughts were unreadable.
The O5 Supervisors on the other screen sighed heavily.
O5-10 spoke softly:
> "The pressure of information is overwhelming her. She can't bear it."
O5-1 muttered grimly:
> "Class-Z has been in her system too long. The brain damage is irreversible. No antidote. She has maybe an hour of lucidity left… then two or three hours in a vegetative state."
O5-2's voice cracked:
> "She failed…"
For a moment, both worlds fell silent.
She failed.
---
On screen.
Wheeler's soul seemed drained.
She whispered:
> "That's good. That's right.
I've lived so long, I've forgotten what the universe even is."
She dropped the ray gun with a clatter and sank to her knees.
Waiting for death.
Or a better idea.
---
Then—
Footsteps.
Da… da… da…
A figure approached the airlock.
It was Paul Kim.
Or something wearing his face.
The livestream audience tensed instantly.
The figure scanned the chamber, spotted the keycard slot, and entered.
---
In the next room, the not-Kim found Wheeler unconscious, the ray gun on the floor beside her.
It ignored the military truck, stooped, and picked up the gun.
It studied her face with a strange, alien expression.
Then it aimed—not at her—but at the airlock door.
---
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The anomalous weapon carved perfect holes into the steel.
First the inner door.
Then the outer.
Then the seals.
The barrier was gone.
And through the breach, SCP-3125's signals flooded in, overwhelming and familiar.
---
A crooked smile curled across not-Kim's lips.
Moments later, more figures entered—humans twisted into puppets, their expressions warped into masks of pity, resentment, and disgust.
They gathered around Wheeler's body.
---
The livestream erupted.
> "Damn it! Is this how it ends?!"
"They're all under SCP-3125's control!"
"Wheeler is alone… totally alone."
"She's done more than anyone could have. Don't forget—her opponent is Apollyon-class!"
"But after 4,000 lives… is this really the result?!"
---
To Be Continued…
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