Inside S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, silence reigned as the screen flickered with data that would chill the spine of any experienced agent.
"Threat Level: Black?"
Nick Fury frowned, staring at the designation on the mission file. He'd never seen that color code used before. But next to it, a note explained everything.
> [The 'Threat Level' system estimates how catastrophic an SCP object's breach would be.]
[There are seven levels: White, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange, Red… and Black.]
[Black ans: Global destruction is likely. Potential for XK-Class End-of-the-World event. Highest containnt priority. Most Black-level objects are classed as Keter.]
The room fell deathly silent.
Even the seasoned S.H.I.E.L.D operatives and hardened war veterans watching the live feed online collectively gasped.
The chat exploded.
> "Wait, GLOBAL destruction?! XK-class?!"
"That's end-of-the-world territory!"
"There's no way anyone's coming back from this… especially Jas. Poor guy is always in the middle of these things."
"Supre Deity? Is this thing a god?!"
As the buzz settled, more detailed protocols began appearing on the screen.
> [Standard Containnt Policy: As per Section 4.1 of the January Resolution, SCP-2845 must be jointly contained by the Foundation, the National Guard, the Departnt of State, Holand Security, and the United Nations Task Force "Blue Alpha".]
> [Containnt includes indefinite use of external consultants under Operational Policy 336.87b.]
[SCP-2845 data is classified Level 3 (High Security), monitored by Special Info Team 45.]
[The "CHATTERBOX" protocol is in effect to prevent misuse or weaponization by foreign powers.]
The inclusion of global agencies before any containnt even began shocked the viewers. This wasn't just a Foundation issue anymore—it was a global ergency.
And then—
> [Special Containnt Procedures: UNCONTAINED]
The word hit like a hamr.
Before anyone could question it, the screen shifted. An elderly man appeared—a high-ranking figure from the Foundation's Departnt of Tactical Theology.
"The Foundation has decided to construct Site-100 on-site to house and contain SCP-2845, once the initial containnt ritual is enacted," he declared.
The entire room—both within S.H.I.E.L.D and across the livestream—exploded.
> "They're building a new site just for one SCP?!"
"Is this god-tier entity that dangerous?!"
And then, the minister laid out the protocols.
**"There will be:
1. A central chamber containing SCP-2845 and 216 sub-entities. The atmosphere must be 96.3% hydrogen, 3.25% helium, and 0.45% ammonia. Temperature -110°C. Pressure: 2.3 bar.
2. Nine concentric rings choreographed by 'Ring-AJ'.
3. Six ritual compartnts aligned with key compass points, each with an engraved lead hexagram."**
The room was dumbfounded. These weren't scientific procedures—they were rituals. Magic circles. Ancient symbols.
Nick Fury narrowed his eye. "Rember... Tactical Theology runs this project."
The room nodded. It made sense. The Departnt of Tactical Theology didn't operate under scientific logic. They were theologians, occultists, and experts in divine containnt. If they said it worked, it probably did.
And then ca the strangest part yet.
"At the 60-degree ring," the minister said, "we will perform Procedure 410-Cassini."
"It involves containnt experts wearing six different emotion-thed masks: Joy, Anger, Sadness, Indifference, Fear, and Foolishness. The ritual is a farcical play, ending with 'Foolish' winning a riddle contest and proclaiming himself king. This is followed by a dice ga. The winner doesn't matter."
The chat nearly broke from the volu of ssages.
> "What the hell? A divine containnt ritual is… a cody play?"
"You can't make this up!"
"It's like SCP and Shakespeare had a weird baby."
The minister continued, unfazed by the disbelief.
"At the 120-degree ring: Procedure 420-Perinaldo."
This one seed more reasonable—
A live orchestral performance of Holst's OP32, complete with coordinated movents, vocal elents, and precise instrunts.
> "Okay, at least this sounds normal…"
"Music therapy for gods. Got it."
Then:
"Procedure 430-Epitheus: Gift exchange, each gift worth no more than $4.28. Followed by chanting and scattering grain around the circle."
"Procedure 440-Kassir: Tie feet with wool, drink olive oil, recite incantations while smashing stones."
The viewers were stunned into silence.
And then—
"Procedure 450-Cairo."
The words chilled the room.
"A D-Class subject is prepared. Symbols are drawn on his body using platinum-based ink. He is dressed in a blue cape, crown, and scepter. After chanting, a hand sickle is used to castrate the subject. The removed organs are placed in salt water while another chant is perford."
"Procedure 460-Omphalos: [DATA EXPUNGED]"
The room went cold. What started as bizarre now veered into horrifying. Sacrifice. Human rituals. Grotesque acts cloaked in ceremony.
> "This isn't containnt—it's worship."
"I… I don't know if I can keep watching."
"That's not science. That's madness."
Even hardened S.H.I.E.L.D agents looked away.
Nick Fury, however, remained calm—expression unreadable.
To him, D-Class personnel were already on death row. Their lives were already forfeit. Using them to save billions? That wasn't a question. It was an equation.
Still, sothing didn't sit right.
This wasn't appeasent. This was… theater. A twisted, disturbing theater.
Fury whispered, "This isn't about science or containnt. This is a show... a performance for a god."
And just then, the minister dropped the final bombshell.
"If containnt fails... the Foundation will detonate a nuclear device, lock down all global Foundation sites, and initiate Protocol 2845-XK1—
'Shoot Down the Moon.'"
The world lost its mind.
> "WHAT?!"
"SHOOT THE MOON?!"
"Is that even a real option?!"
The feed cut to black for a mont, then returned.
Inside the darkened hall, Jas stood quietly.
Beside him, a young man in clerical garb whispered nervously, "Jas? Weren't you assigned to Ritual 420-Perinaldo?"
Jas nodded.
The man hesitated, then asked, "Is it… is it really this bad?"
Jas didn't hesitate.
"It's worse."
Before he could speak again, the minister approached.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You need to report to the Ethics Committee."
Jas nodded.
He stood, gave one last look to the trembling priest, and walked out with the minister.
A mont later, the screen lit up with a new scene—
A eting room, sterile and suffocating. The Ethics Committee sat behind polished wood, their black suits pristine, their expressions like stone.
Jas entered without fear, eting their eyes.
One by one, they turned their gaze toward him.
And then, a voice spoke—asured, sharp, inescapable.
"Good morning, Mr. Jas. You are here to explain the containnt of SCP-2845... and justify what we are about to do."
---
End of Chapter 151.
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