Bang!
Without hesitation, James lunged forward, his clawed hand gripping the boy's neck with brutal force.
Crack!
A chilling sound echoed through the air—the distinct, sickening snap of bones breaking. In the next instant, the boy, who had stood just moments ago radiating arrogance and menace, collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been severed. His eyes glazed over, lifeless.
He... was dead?
For a few seconds, the entire live broadcast room was silent. The viewers—hundreds of thousands of them—stared at their screens in disbelief, unable to process what had just happened. Then the chat exploded into a frenzy.
"He... just died like that? Seriously?"
"What's a reality anchor?!"
"Wait—so this thing can neutralize reality-bending powers?"
"Holy crap! James is insane! His arm was mangled into a pretzel and he didn't even flinch?"
S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters
Inside the observation room, agents watched the live feed with intense focus.
Natasha Romanoff squinted at the monitor. "He broke the vertebrae right where it connects to the brainstem," she said, voice tinged with admiration and concern. "It was a single, fatal strike—clean and terrifyingly accurate."
Nick Fury crossed his arms, shaking his head slowly. "So that was his plan..."
Now, it became clear to them. James had deliberately used heavy firepower to mislead the enemy—to force the boy into thinking he was in complete control. But once close enough, James had relied not on raw power, but on strategy and precision. The reality stabilization anchor had suppressed the boy's abilities just long enough for James to physically assassinate him.
A reckless gamble.
Fury's brow furrowed. "The enemy was a reality twister," he muttered. "If that kid had sensed James even a second earlier, he would've turned him into a pulpy smear of meat—just like all those poor souls we saw earlier."
Even now, watching James cradle his blood-soaked, disfigured left arm on the screen, everyone in the room winced.
Back in the room on the screen.
Jack sprinted over to James, his eyes wide with shock and worry as he saw the gruesome state of his partner's arm.
"Holy shit, man! You are a complete lunatic!" Jack gasped.
Sweat trickled down James's face, but he still managed a wry grin. "But we pulled it off, didn't we?"
Jack gave a shaky laugh, clearly torn between awe and horror. "I take back everything I said before. You're a full-blown madman."
Just then—
BOOM!
A deep, rumbling roar shook the building—the sound of helicopter engines outside, fast and heavy.
Bang!
The room's door was kicked open with violent force. A figure stepped inside, casual yet imposing. But something was wrong—no matter what angle the live broadcast camera caught him from, viewers couldn't make out his face. His features remained blurred, obscured by some strange interference.
He wore a faded, yellowish-white lab coat and a black top hat. Resting in the crook of his arm was a worn-looking shotgun.
"What the hell?! Dr. Clef?!" Jack blurted out.
Dr. Clef?
Viewers were stunned. They stared at the man with the top hat and shotgun and couldn't reconcile him with the image of the usual well-dressed, composed researchers of the SCP Foundation.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Natasha Romanoff frowned. "Strange... why can't we see his face?"
Maria, the usually silent assistant, hesitated before offering a guess. "Could it be the system censoring it?"
Natasha blinked. "Why would the system censor a doctor's face?"
Nick Fury was silent. Then, his expression darkened.
"Unless... he's not just a doctor."
His voice was low. "What if he's also a reality bender?"
Back at the scene.
Dr. Clef walked straight toward James and Jack, the shotgun still tucked lazily under his arm.
"Damn. Looks like we're late," he said with a low chuckle.
Behind him, a squad of fully armed Mobile Task Force operatives and Foundation agents flooded into the room, securing the scene. All eyes were on the corpse of the boy—once a powerful threat, now lifeless and still.
Clef gave a low whistle. "A Level 2 reality bender... in the third stage of development, no less."
He turned to James, nodding slowly. "Gotta say, I'm a little surprised at how cleanly you wrapped this up."
Jack stepped forward with a proud grin, only to deflate a bit. "To be fair... it was mostly the boss here."
Clef crouched down beside the boy's corpse. He checked the neck, the angle of the break, the blood pooling around it. Then he stood and inspected James's twisted, bloodied arm.
"Good work," Clef said finally. "It's not often that someone in the Mobile Task Force manages to take down a reality bender solo."
He added with a bit more weight in his voice, "Especially one who was about to reach Level 3."
"Level 3?" Jack repeated, eyebrows raised.
Sensing the confusion, Clef scratched his head and muttered, "Damn, didn't your instructor brief you on the classifications?"
Jack gave a sheepish laugh. "Uh... we've been with the Task Force for less than a month."
That earned a wide-eyed stare from Clef.
"You're telling me a rookie took down a nearly fully evolved Level 2 reality bender?"
He took a long puff from a cigar he pulled from his coat pocket, then exhaled a perfect smoke ring into the air.
"Reality benders," he began, "differ from person to person. Some are subtle, some dramatic. The powers vary wildly—but they all stem from the same principle: the ability to impose their will upon reality itself."
He gestured at the corpse on the floor.
"This one was already dangerous. At Level 2, a reality bender's abilities can surpass normal human limits significantly. But they're not invincible. If their will isn't fully formed—or if they're caught off-guard like just now—they can still be killed."
Jack leaned forward eagerly. "What happens at Level 3?"
Clef's eyes narrowed.
"A Level 3 reality bender—also classified as Level 3U—is dangerous not because of what they intend to do, but because they no longer fully understand or control their powers."
He blew another puff of smoke, then continued.
"Take SCP-CN-102, for example. Supersonic Girl. She once tried to win a sprint race by simply 'running faster.' The result? She broke the sound barrier—just by wishing it. If she so much as thinks about hurting someone, they die. Instantly. Not from trauma or energy—but from reality collapse."
That last phrase echoed.
Reality collapse.
The entire live broadcast room went dead silent.
"A single thought... can collapse reality?!"
"You're joking, right?"
"That's not science—that's magic!"
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nick Fury stared at the screen, dumbfounded.
He'd seen speedsters before. Metahumans who could outrun bullets. Enhanced beings who could phase through solid walls. Some could manipulate molecular acceleration. But this?
A thought so potent it could shatter reality itself?
This wasn't science anymore. This was bordering on godhood.
And this Supersonic Girl?
Only a Level 3?
Fury swallowed hard. "What the hell kind of world have we stepped into...?"
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