But I let that tense twisting in my gut – the pained useless feeling – get in the way.

Especially now that I knew it wasn't just me imagining myself a hero, I felt duty bound to help.

The only real problem was that I knew were I to ask how I could help, I would be sent back to my rooms. And once I was honest with myself, I had no idea what I could possibly be dealing with by putting myself in such a situation.

–

SCP-096 is normally extremely docile... however, when someone views SCP-096's face, whether it be directly, via video recording, or even a photograph, it will enter a stage of considerable emotional distress. SCP-096 will cover its face with its hands and begin screaming, crying, and babbling incoherently. Approximately one (1) to two (2) minutes after the first viewing, SCP-096 will begin running to the person who viewed its face (who will from this point on be referred to as SCP-096-1).

–

I was mainly wandering the halls by that point, hoping to run into someone I knew that would let me give some assistance. It seemed a waste not to use my abilities, something I knew some of the agents had thought before, judging by how they looked at me.

However, as the evacuation notice went off, I didn't run into many people. The agents that did pass me were in such a hurry to leave that they barely had time to look at me, let alone realize I wasn't one of them.

–

Documented speeds have varied from thirty-five (35) km/h to [ ][] km/h, and seems to depend on distance from SCP-096-1. At this point, no known material or method can impede SCP-096's progress. The actual position of SCP-096-1 does not seem to affect SCP-096's response; it seems to have an innate sense of SCP-096-1's location.

–

I rounded a corner to see Agent Coulson through the doorway at the end of the hall, standing in the middle of one of the large atriums. He had his gun out, pointed straight at me.

"Coulson, it's me!" My hands shot up, palms toward him.

To my surprise, he didn't lower his gun. But he didn't follow when I moved out of the line of fire, so I assumed he wasn't aiming for me.

"Get out of here, Steve." He said, and his voice was flat, serious.

"I can help," I started trying to explain, but it sounded extremely juvenile now.

"Now, Cap." There was hint of panic in the two words that was extremely unlike him. Coulson was the one who was always calm, always in control.

"I-"

Whatever I may have said to try and convince him was forgotten as the wall exploded outward in front of me.

I fell into a crouch, covering my head out of reflex as the debris showered across my shoulders.

The dust was still settling when I looked up, coughing as I inhaled the gritty air. A strange sobbing sound was coming from where the hole in the wall was – and I saw a figure hunched over itself, long skeletal limbs wrapped around its head as if hiding its face.

I wasn't sure if it had noticed me – or Coulson for that matter.

But then it looked up at him and screamed.

Coulson began firing, and I could see its head jerk back as he loaded bullets into its skull. But it straightened, scrambling over the broken wall, and I could see it was going to attack him. It seemed to be trying to cover its face still, beginning to run at an awkward gait as it stumbled over the debris.

Bullets may not have been able to stop it, but I could try to hold it back.

Leaping out from my place on the floor, I wrapped my arms around its neck and pulled back hard. It shrieked, shrill and broken in my ear and clawed at my hold on it, scratching long bloody marks down my skin. I gritted my teeth, and tried to walk backward with it awkwardly bent towards me.

For a moment, I thought I had it. It seemed to be going limp against me, and I was just looking over its bony shoulder to flash Coulson a smile when it somehow managed to break free of my hold and knock me on my back before sprinting towards its original target. Coughing as I tried to draw in breath, I pulled myself up to my hands and knees to try again, but it had reached impossible speeds and I no longer had any hope of catching it.

Coulson's clip had run out of bullets, and he slowly lowered his gun and stood there, waiting.

Why didn't he do anything?

I half expected time to slow down as Coulson began screaming, but it didn't.

I saw everything clearly regardless.

I watched in shock, unable to move, to do anything.

Strong hands gripped me under my arms from behind, dragging me backwards. When I looked blankly over my shoulder, it was Clint who had me in his firm grip, eyes screwed shut as he stumbled backwards, pulling us both around the corner.

He propped me up against the wall, where he opened his eyes, blinking against the light as he stood bent over in front of me, hands on his knees.

I felt like I had a head injury, dazed and confused.

"Why didn't he do anything, Clint?" Talking felt strange, slow and thick.

He met my eyes for a moment before he just shook his head, and then let it drop, not even bothering to support its weight anymore.

–

Upon arriving at SCP-096-1's location, SCP-096 will proceed to kill and [DATA EXPUNGED] SCP-096-1. 100% of cases have left no traces of SCP-096-1. SCP-096 will then sit down for several minutes before regaining its composure and becoming docile once again.

"What happened?"

Agent Romanov had been sitting next to me on my bed for quite some time – I wasn't sure how long. She hadn't said anything, waiting for me to speak first. I had the feeling she knew I would ask her, that she knew I trusted her to give me a straight answer.

"Another SCP decided it would be fun to let oh-nine-six out of containment. Coulson was standing right there when the door opened." Her voice dropped lower. "He didn't have a chance."

"What other SCP?"

"Calls himself Loki. Likes a good prank. Or at least, that's what he says. I don't find his sense of humor appealing."

Neither did I.

I sighed heavily, trying to let out some of the weight that had settled deep inside my bones, scrubbing a hand through my hair.

"I should have done something more," I muttered. "I failed him."

Agent Romanov snorted. She wasn't exactly the sympathetic type.

"It's hardly your fault."

"You watched the tape, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Then you know that isn't true."

Her frustration with my guilt was tangible; I could almost feel her rolling her eyes.

"Steve, we've shot oh-nine-six with the heaviest artillery we have, and it didn't stop. There's no reason why you should have been able to hold him back. He's unstoppable in every meaning of the word."

She met my gaze for as long as I let her, before I turned to look the other way. I appreciated her sentiments, but only to a certain point.

"You don't have to lie to me, Agent Romanov. We both know that I should have been more alert. This is my burden. I just have to take it."

"Oh, give it a rest, Rogers."

She laid a none-too-gentle hand on my cheek and turned me back to her as she snapped out her response. Her mouth and brows had flattened into exasperated lines.
She relaxed somewhat, sighing to calm herself before she raised her eyebrows, daring me to contradict her once again, and leaned in closer.

From what I remembered, I only had two frames of reference to go by.
But I didn't exactly need more than that to recognize that Agent Romanov was one hell of a kisser.