Chapter Text
The SCP Foundation is composed of many strange and mundane personnel, ranging from the humble (and convicted) D-Class to the eccentric Researchers all the way up to the O5 Council. Here, beliefs and convictions are all but shattered upon seeing the horrors of the universe (and multiverse) save for three: Secure, Contain, and Protect. These three core tenets of the SCP Foundation are the reasons for its existence in the first place, and have even become the replacement for many of its personnel’s morals. People are expendable here, as long as the anomalous items, phenomena, and entities within the Foundation’s scopes are contained or at the very least hidden from the eyes of ordinary people.
Junior Researcher Firefly was one such personnel. Formerly of the Christian faith, she had, within the first few months of her working here, found out that her faith was all but useless in the face of such dangerous entities, leading her to follow less and less of her religious practices until one day she just stopped doing them altogether. While SCP-343 (“God”) and an iteration of SCP-001 (“The Gate Guardian”) had certainly reinforced her belief in the validity of Christian and Jewish scripts, the practices mentioned within them did not seem as necessary to her after she saw a D-Class named Chen she had made friends with get blasted into atomic plasma by Uriel’s sword, despite her worshiping the god it served.
Right now, she was sitting in the Site Director’s office, wondering what she had done to earn this level of attention. If she had to compare it to something, being summoned by a Site Director was the same as being called by the principal in high school. So, it was understandable why she was so nervous to be called here.
“Sorry for being late, I had to supervise a test on 294. Apparently they wanted to see if it can produce a yet-to-be-discovered liquid based on scientific nomenclature alone.” Site Director Lucille sighed as he entered through the doorway and passed by Firefly, patting her on the shoulder before taking his seat at his desk.
“O-Oh, no, I-I’m fine, Site Director, sir,” said Firefly. “Considering your schedule, I’m thankful you even bothered to inform me face-to-face about… whatever this is for.” Her clammy hands clenched in order to stop them from sweating. Don’t be nervous, Firefly. If you were getting fired, it would be a Senior Researcher to inform you, most certainly not the Site Director himself making a face-to-face meeting.
Lucille smiled and reached into one of his drawers, pulling out a file and placing it on the desk. “Read it, Firefly.”
Picking it up, Firefly opened the folder to see an SCP entry. No designation yet, meaning it was still new. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read its preliminary description, temporary containment procedures, and the transcript of when Foundation personnel had found it and contained it. ”… Sir, from the entry, it sounds like the SCP is an angel, but… that can’t be real, right? I mean, if it were, then…”
“The whole Site would be under constant threat of eradication, yes. However, unlike Uriel, this angel has been compliant to our requests so far. So compliant, in fact, that the top brass want it to be part of Alpha-9.”
Firefly nearly dropped the file out of shock. “Y-You mean Last Hope? Sir, even as a Junior Researcher, I still think it’s really risky to have an honest-to-god angel on board the MTF, even if it’s the spiritual successor to Omega-7. I mean, how are you even going to keep it in check? What if it becomes another Abel?”
“That’s where you come in, Firefly.” Lucille stood up from his chair and walked over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I need someone who is good with social interactions and research to interact with and form a bond with the SCP.” He smiled. “I’ve been watching you, kid. Not as part of the job, but as someone who sees things in people.”
Oh. Her eyes widened in realization. You just want a sacrificial lamb, and I happen to be the latest, easily-replaceable hire, huh. Firefly swallowed the words she wanted to say and nodded. “Alright, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“Splendid.”
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She didn’t know how long it had been. How long since she fell from Heaven. How long since she landed in the soft sand of one of the many continents named and conquered by mankind. How long since she was taken by the men and women in suits, the sand falling off of her formerly-white feathers.
They had placed her in a pure-white, tiled room lined with thaumaturgical symbols and esoteric rituals meant to keep her bound. To clip her wings and keep her on the ground. To keep her “secure”, to “protect” her.
To contain her.
Although it had been decades (centuries?) since she had last visited the world of humanity, she still recognized their tongue thanks to the Father’s blessing.
The SCP Foundation, that’s what they called themselves. A secretive, international organization made for the sole purpose of protecting their species against anything that fits outside their collective definition of “normal”.
Apparently, she does not fit their definition of normal.
When she fell from Heaven, when she was thrown out of those pearly Gates, she had begged her brother to defend her, to at least try and prove that what she did was right and just. Instead, what she received was a cold shoulder and betrayal.
She was enraged, of course. Tried to raise a rebellion against their absentee Father, which was quickly suppressed by the Archangels. She resisted to the end, but for all her struggles, she was rewarded with nothing but brutal torture and exile into the world of mankind.
Now, she sits in a glorified cell, her now-mortal senses dulled by the endless white and featureless surroundings, save for her wall-chair. She felt, rather than saw, the symbols etched into the room’s concrete made to prevent her from escaping. She wasn’t shackled, yet, she only felt more… imprisoned, for lack of a better word.
…There. Outside, in the hallway, she heard the clack of heels against the stone floor, the heartbeat of a new individual approaching her room. Her wings rustled in anticipation. What will they ask of her next? Will they conduct some form of evaluation or another again? Will they interrogate her, see if she will reveal the secrets of the Father’s domain? Or will they try to hurt her, as humans tend to do?
The doors hiss open and close, admitting the newcomer inside her cell. Without looking up, she stood from her bench, rising to her full height, easily double that of the human. She spread her wings, releasing feathers that spiraled down to the floor in a hypnotic pattern, revealing her naked majesty to the human. In a low, rumbling voice, she spoke, echoing against the walls.
“So… Who are you?”
“...I’m your savior.”