New Star In Marvel

After reading the classified file on SCP-239, everyone across the Marvel universe exhaled slowly. A collective breath of relief filled the air.

"Okay," someone muttered. "Her powers only work within a certain range."

But the relief didn't last.

Because when you think about it—even if her influence is limited in distance—just imagine her materializing in a bustling metropolis. The fallout would be catastrophic.

And the next few lines of the file only served to crank the tension back up:

[While conscious, SCP-239's self-preservation instinct renders her nearly invulnerable. The subject's skin can only be pierced by SCP-148.]

The moment they read that, viewers in the livestream room gained a much clearer understanding of SCP-239's reality-warping prowess.

To put it bluntly—

Anything within her sight becomes her kingdom. She is the sovereign.

But the real mystery was still unanswered: How in the world did the Foundation manage to contain such a being and put her into a coma?

[As a method of controlling the subject's ability, she has been told that she is a witch.]

[This suggestion, besides helping her cope psychologically, also made her believe she must recite a "spell" before using her power. The spells, of course, are pre-approved and provided by the Foundation.]

[This method aims to reduce the risk of uncontrolled power surges. Nonetheless, the subject is kept in a medically induced coma at all times to avoid even subconscious manifestations.]

This part of the document left everyone dumbstruck.

The disbelief was universal.

"…What?" someone in the livestream whispered.

"Did I just read that right? Did they… role-play with her?"

"Holy hell! This is the actual containment plan?"

"I'm dying here! Who was the genius that came up with that?"

"When you realize Foundation agents are LARPing with a child who can rewrite reality, it stops being scary and starts being ridiculous—hilariously so!"

At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, agents couldn't hold back their laughter. Even hardened field operatives chuckled.

Except for Nick Fury.

His expression was far more complicated.

Role-playing, sure. Nothing inherently wrong with that. But what if your "playmate" can rewrite the world because they believe in fairy tales?

That's not child's play. That's a ticking time bomb.

Seeing Fury lost in thought, Natasha asked, "Boss, what's with the frown? Isn't this containment method kind of genius? If it works, why worry?"

"Because you're only thinking about what happens when she plays a witch," Fury muttered grimly. "What happens if she decides she's a monster instead?"

Natasha's smirk froze.

The color drained from her face as the implication sank in.

At Stark Tower, Tony poured himself a generous glass of whiskey. "This," he said, "is why I don't like kids."

He gulped the drink and leaned back in his chair.

"Kids are unpredictable. One moment they're drawing crayon unicorns, the next they're imagining a sentient Santa Claus who breaks out of containment."

Colonel Rhodes chuckled. "Their creativity is boundless."

"Exactly!" Tony snapped. "That's the problem! Their minds don't have off switches!"

"I'd sedate her too," Tony added, arms behind his head. "I wouldn't want to be the guy who gets disintegrated because she thinks I'm mean."

Rhodes didn't respond. He was too busy rereading the file, especially the details about SCP-239's origins.

[Origin: SCP-239 came to the Foundation's attention shortly after the birth of [DATA EXPUNGED].]

[Approximately three hours after her birth, [DATA EXPUNGED] Hospital was leveled by a massive explosion of unknown cause. The official story blamed a gas leak. Foundation teams arrived soon after to secure the anomaly.]

[SCP-239 was the sole survivor. Over the next eight years, she was raised by the Foundation.]

[As of [DATA EXPUNGED], the subject is to remain in a medically induced coma until further notice. This order was authorized by [DATA EXPUNGED].]

The file ended there.

Yet the implications were explosive.

From the moment she was born, disaster followed. A newborn baby survived an incident that flattened an entire hospital. If that's not invincible, what is?

And what about her parents?

What kind of people gave birth to a walking, talking breach of causality?

Unfortunately, the file didn't say.

The livestream audience went silent for a moment, digesting the implications. The weight of this information made it clearer than ever—no wonder the Foundation had spent years failing to permanently contain SCP-289. And compared to 239, that case seemed tame.

Back in the command room, Lois pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is insane."

Zyn added nervously, "If we use the wrong method to contain her, or if she wakes up unexpectedly… the whole site could be vaporized."

Lois turned toward James. "So? What's your plan?"

James shrugged and motioned toward the conference table, where Dr. Clef and Dr. Kondraki were already locked in a heated debate.

"Plans," he said. "They're arguing over it right now."

Lois sighed heavily.

"These two can't go five minutes without screaming at each other."

Zyn grinned. "Honestly, I still don't get how Clef and Kondraki didn't kill each other years ago. And how on Earth are Bright and Gears actually friends?"

On the screen, the argument between Dr. Clef and Dr. Kondraki was heating up.

Dr. Clef, arms crossed and unimpressed, snapped, "Whose bright idea was it to tell her about Santa Claus and then say he's not real?"

He glared. "Congratulations. Now we've got a rogue SCP that doesn't exist... but also does."

Dr. Kondraki's expression darkened. "Still better than challenging a Level 4 reality bender with a damn knife."

Clef's face turned red. "You—!"

"You b—!"

BANG!

A sharp knock silenced the room as the executive slammed the table.

"That's enough!"

Both doctors fell quiet. Grudgingly, they returned to their seats.

The executive shot daggers at Clef. "We called this meeting to solve problems, not create new ones! SCP-239 is bad enough!"

Clef muttered something under his breath, but then stood and raised his voice.

"SCP-239 is an unacceptable security risk. She has potential as a containment tool—but history proves the Foundation cannot control reality-benders. We have SCP-953 as a tragic reminder."

No one interrupted.

Kondraki simply turned his head away.

"So here's my proposal," Clef continued.

"We craft a device using SCP-148. Its properties will allow it to pierce her normally impervious skin."

Everyone's breath caught.

"And this device will be used to…?" asked a voice hesitantly.

"To kill her," Clef stated flatly. "While she is unconscious. Before she wakes. The executor will carry SCP-668 to minimize risks."

Kondraki scoffed. "Easier said than done. What if the procedure fails? What if she wakes up? Then what? Game over?"

Clef didn't flinch.

"Yes, the risk is real. If she wakes up and believes the attacker is a friend... she could change reality and make herself immune again—or worse."

He paused.

"For this reason… I volunteer to perform the termination myself. Review my personnel file. My [DATA EXPUNGED] should allow me to remain anchored even if she alters reality."

He stared at Kondraki.

The room froze.

Kondraki stood, incensed. "If anyone thinks I'm scared of this insane plan, count me in!"

The livestream exploded with chatter.

"W-What?!"

"Are these scientists or MTF brawlers?!"

"I've seen less aggression in D-Class riots!"

"The Foundation's built different!"

"Dr. Clef—certified menace!"

"My sword belongs to Dr. Kondraki now!"

Even in the superhero chat group, reactions were flying in.

[Deadpool]: Yo, I think James is out of his mind for getting involved in this mess.

[Tony Stark]: When there are anomalies, they're the threat. When there aren't, it's these two psychos.

[Steve Rogers]: What is SCP-148 anyway? Magical alloy? Can it pierce my shield?

[Hulk]: Dunno, but I bet SCP-239 can turn your shield into marshmallows.

At S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha groaned. "These two maniacs are nuts! And James? He's no better!"

Fury remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the screen. His mind was spinning, stuck on one detail—something Clef mentioned.

Santa Claus.

The Foundation told 239 a fairy tale. And because she believed it, a version of Santa manifested... and eventually went rogue.

It reminded Fury of another anomaly: SCP-1762.

A harmless containment where belief summoned magical origami dragons. Wholesome. Innocent.

But 239?

Her "fairy tale" warped into a threat.

The danger wasn't just her power—it was her imagination.

And now, Clef's proposal had been heard.

But would it be accepted?

And more importantly...

Could it succeed?

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