682 — The Product of a Loophole in the Law
"Are you insane? You actually accepted a mission like this?"
"Yeah, if that thing kills hundreds in one go, wouldn't it wipe you out instantly? You're just a regular guy!"
"Have all of you forgotten what the 'D' in D-Class stands for? Disposable! They don't even get a say in the matter!"
"Sigh… I wanted to see more of this anomaly, but I guess this is where it ends for him."
The livestream exploded with frantic comnts.
Thousands of viewers vented their shock, disbelief, and horror.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
Inside the high-tech operations center, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents exchanged nervous glances. Wide-eyed and tense, no one dared speak first. Even for them—who had seen their fair share of superpowered lunacy—this was a bit much.
The only one who remained composed was Nick Fury.
He narrowed his one good eye, silently watching the screen. His gaze, however, had shifted.
Previously, he had dismissed Jas as another eager idiot playing soldier.
Now?
He nodded ever so slightly.
Good.
He follows orders. That's the first rule of being a soldier.
But unfortunately… it might also an the end of his story.
Stark Industries
Tony Stark stared at the display in disbelief, his glass of scotch forgotten beside him.
"Damn… this guy either has a death wish or no understanding of fear," Tony muttered. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the armrest.
"A guy like that? Sure, he's got guts. Maybe even genius-level instincts. But he's also a fool."
Despite his words, Tony's tone held an undercurrent of admiration. There was sothing oddly heroic about Jas's calm acceptance of the suicide mission. It struck a chord, even in soone like Stark.
"JARVIS," he called out.
"Yes, sir?"
"Bring my aged whiskey. The rare one. I'm going to toast this lunatic—Jas. Never t him, but he's earned it."
Stark swirled the glass in hand, eyes never leaving the screen.
By now, nearly everyone who watched had accepted a grim reality:
The Foundation didn't lie.
Their files were dead serious. If they said SCP-682 was unkillable and extrely dangerous, it was the absolute truth.
Which made what Jas was doing completely mad.
The next scene flickered onto the screen.
Jas was dressed in a standard orange jumpsuit, sitting quietly aboard a high-tech aircraft. The cargo hold was full of other D-Class personnel wearing the sa orange suits. Nervous glances and clenched fists filled the cramped space.
Along with them were several researchers in white lab coats, a handful of heavily ard agents, and the unmistakable presence of the Mobile Task Force—elite soldiers in jet-black tactical gear, ard to the teeth.
But the most peculiar individual was neither D-Class nor soldier.
A tall, lean man in his late 30s stood among them. He had black hair, gray eyes, and olive-toned skin. Nearly two ters tall, his body was a canvas of tattoos—arcane symbols and cryptic imagery stretching from his neck to his wrists.
He had to be from the Foundation.
Yet, oddly enough, the other agents kept a safe distance from him, watching him warily as though he were a threat himself.
Mission Drop Zone
The transport landed with a jolt, the rear hatch opening with a tallic hiss.
Jas and the others were ushered out into a bleak, crumbling industrial zone. A decaying, abandoned factory lood before them like a tombstone.
A man in a pristine white coat approached the D-Class group.
"SCP-682 is currently digesting after a recent feeding," he announced in a cold, clinical tone. "It's hiding inside that factory."
He pointed toward the rotting building.
"Your mission is to enter the factory and lure it out."
For a mont, the world went silent.
Then—
"What?!"
Viewers across the Marvel universe were stunned.
They had to have misheard.
The Foundation was seriously sending these unard civilians in to lure out an unstoppable killing machine?
Were they out of their minds?
Even if D-Class were considered disposable, this was insane!
It wasn't a mission—it was an execution.
As expected, chaos erupted almost imdiately on-screen.
The D-Class personnel panicked. Their brainwashing might have numbed them, but not enough to override survival instinct.
"You've got to be kidding !"
"This is suicide!" one burly man shouted, fists clenched, face red with fury.
The rest joined in, a chaotic chorus of desperation and anger.
The agents didn't hesitate.
Oink-oink—multiple safeties clicked off.
Dozens of rifles were raised, aid directly at the orange-clad n.
Silence fell like a hamr.
The burly man glared at the white-coat researcher. "You really an to send us to our deaths?"
The researcher didn't even blink. "That's correct. I am."
"You—!"
"Complete the mission… or die right now."
The tension was razor-sharp. One wrong move and the bullets would fly.
Then, a researcher monitoring the equipnt suddenly turned pale.
"Oh no—682 has been alerted!"
The words had barely left his mouth when—
ROOOOAAARRR!!!
A monstrous howl erupted from within the factory.
Everyone froze.
Even through the screen, viewers felt their hearts skip a beat.
The soundwave hit them like a thunderclap.
The next mont, a hulking shadow exploded through the factory wall.
BOOM!
Debris flew everywhere as a monstrous figure, faster than anyone could react, surged forward like a runaway freight train. The stench of death and rot filled the air.
The two D-Class mbers closest to the impact were torn apart instantly—sliced cleanly in half before they could even scream.
The beast's montum plowed a deep trench into the ground, scattering bodies and rubble alike.
ROAR!!!
Another deafening bellow shook the air.
Finally, the creature stood fully revealed.
And the entire world watching went cold.
It was like a nightmare co to life.
A monstrous fusion of crocodile and lizard, towering over six ters tall, its body was a grotesque mass of bulging muscles and armored hide. Its skin was brownish-black, segnted with deep ridges, and looked as if it had been carved from stone.
Thick armor-like scales ran along its limbs and back, each plate tougher than steel.
Gills, or sothing like them, flexed around its thick neck.
Its gaping mouth was filled with jagged, needle-sharp teeth, several still stained with chunks of red flesh.
But the most terrifying thing was its eyes.
Twin orbs filled with hatred, fury, and unrelenting malice. Just one glance felt like staring into the abyss—a predator whose very existence defied reason.
The livestream chat fell dead silent.
Then erupted all at once:
"This… this is the Immortal Evil Lizard?"
"Is this even real?"
"That thing looks like it eats tanks for breakfast—how do you contain sothing like that?!"
S.H.I.E.L.D. Command
Even Nick Fury flinched.
He had seen gods. Monsters. Alien invasions.
But 682… that thing triggered sothing primal.
It wasn't just dangerous. It was… wrong.
Elsewhere, in a private facility…
A man in an immaculate suit leaned forward, staring at the screen with near-religious awe.
He wasn't afraid.
He was fascinated.
To him, 682 wasn't a monster.
It was a masterpiece.
"A miracle of existence," he whispered. "A gift from the Creator… or perhaps a loophole in reality itself."
Extraordinary Chat Group
[Deadpool]: Dude… you call that a lizard?
[Ant-Man]: Kinda rude to mock your own species, isn't it?
[Captain Arica (Steve Rogers)]: Hiss… This thing is extrely dangerous. It's not sothing anyone without powers should face.
[Iron Man (Tony Stark)]: The only proper answer to mutation is tech. Biology is so… 20th century.
[Ancient One]: I sense sothing deeper from this entity. It's tied to the very laws of reality. Be warned—its true terror is not just its strength… but its nature.
Kamar-Taj
After sending her ssage, the Ancient One placed her hands behind her back, eyes locked on the projection of 682.
A rare expression crossed her face—genuine concern.
This wasn't just a creature of muscle and blood.
This was sothing born from a break in the fabric of order.
Back on screen, SCP-682 roared again—and began its massacre.
Blood and screams echoed across the battlefield.
And Jas—still breathing, still alive—stood frozen before the storm.
But unlike the others…
He didn't run.
He clenched his fists and stepped forward.
And millions held their breath.
To be continued…
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