I'd originally planned to deal with this group later. Taylor Hebert was my initial priority, but once I began looking around, my plans changed. Taylor, despite being the protagonist of what would have been this world's story without my intervention, was not an overly pressing concern. She still experienced hardship at the hands of the 'Trio', but it was nothing she couldn't overcome.

I could have split myself to help her while dealing with this problem simultaneously, but I was hesitant to do that. I wanted to help, not to replace people's ability to help themselves. Fixing every problem in the world was within my power. As a matter of fact, I could do it with a snap of my fingers. Thanos's infinity stones were paperweights when compared to my capabilities, but would my doing so make life meaningless? It was the endless debate of free will, and I did not consider myself a wise enough individual to conclusively say if one path was wholly right or wrong. I could spread fish to all, ending world hunger, but I would rather teach everyone to fish, showing them how to end world hunger themselves.

I may have been 343, but some of his way of thinking must have bled over. I didn't see myself as a god deserving of worship, just a being willing and able to help.

So I would not fix everything. I would travel as a man, albeit a gifted one, and right wrongs in front of me, leaving time to enjoy myself and let others conquer their own hardships.

Despite what the story SCP-343 came from said, I was not God. A god? Certainly, but I would not subsume everything under my great Plan. I would lay the foundations to bring about a brighter tomorrow, then I would allow others to build upon those foundations.

That began by completing my current objective.

In the street around me, people went about their lives, driving to work or walking to get lunch. None of them had any idea of the danger they would have been in had I not been present. Even now, I felt a foreign power attempting to force the windshields of the nearby vehicles, the glass panes in the storefronts to explode. I simply didn't allow it. This was what I'd come to stop, and stop it I would.

X

This wasn't right. Shatterbird's voice was supposed to shake the city to its core, announcing their arrival to all of its occupants. Instead, when she tried to sing, Shatterbird found her voice refusing to make sound. When she reached out with her power, she felt an unseen force unseating her hold on the glass of the city. Something was very wrong.

"Shatterbird, what is the–"

"Something is blocking my power." Shatterbird growled, snarling at nothing.

A small smile tugged at Jack Slash's lip. "Is that so? It seems we may have found someone interesting. I'd very much like to see this one. We'll have to track them down somehow."

"I'll save you the trouble."

As one, the four present members of the nine turned to face the new arrival. He was old, his back arched as if a lifetime of hardship weighed him down. Long, black bangs fell in front of wrinkled, sandy skin. He wasn't wearing a mask. Brave, or perhaps foolish?

Shatterbird hadn't seen or heard him approach. A Stranger? He was part of a group then. It was very uncommon for a Stranger to trigger with Trump powers. There was at least one other cape in the area who was blocking her power.

"No, that's me as well. I find myself opposed to pointless, wanton slaughter. I will not allow you to attack this city as you've planned."

Shatterbird opened her mouth to speak, but Jack beat her to the punch.

"Oh? And who are you to stop us? It's rather rude not to introduce yourself, you know?" Jack was sauntering forward, a switchblade idly spinning in his grasp as he approached the old man.

"I have been calling myself 343. I suppose that is the name I will continue offering in response to that question." the old man said, not noticeably reacting to one of the world's most infamous villains walking towards him.

"Your cape name is a number? I don't think I've heard of anyone like that before. Does your power work based on numbers?" Bonesaw asked, head tilted curiously from where she sat on the Siberian's shoulders.

The old man looked past Jack at Bonesaw and the Siberian. He frowned, an expression of abject sorrow falling across his face. "I am sorry for what happened to you, too both of you. I will make it right."

The Siberian collapsed, spilling an unconscious Bonesaw to the ground right next to her.

Shatterbird leapt up and away from the Siberian, into the air away from the old man. Since the death of Hero, nothing had ever been able to affect the Siberian. This geezer was dangerous.

Shatterbird reached out to the area around her, willing the glass to surge towards the old man and tear him apart. Not a single fragment answered her call. Her power was still blocked.

"I originally intended to give all of you a chance, Jacob. Then I looked back and saw what you did to that young girl to mold her into a monster. I've changed my mind." the old man said, his tone filled with sorrow.

"Well now, that's awful–" Jack's legs crumbled. He fell with a meaty splat against the ground, dead eyes staring skyward.

"Jack!" Shatterbird cried, flying down to check on the artist she'd grown to love. He couldn't be dead. This was another of his games. Any second now he'd–

Shatterbird collapsed atop Jacob's body, her last breath leaving her breast.

X

I liked to think redemption was possible for anyone. I wanted Jack Slash to prove that theory. Instead, I saw a pit of despair so great the only solution was to excise it from the rest of reality. He, William Manton, Hatchet Face and Shatterbird were beyond redemption, but hopefully the rest weren't.

Flexing my power, I watched as the scenery around me changed. Bonesaw, The Siberian, a bundle of inert metal and an unconscious mass of flesh, scales and limbs surrounded me in the open field I'd brought us to.

I started with Bonesaw. All of the 'improvements' she'd made to herself were undone along with Jacob's power-assisted brainwashing, leaving her as close as was possible to the girl she was before the Nine.

The Siberian was next. She was a projection, but not just a projection. When Manton died, the projection had nearly vanished with him, but I kept it anchored to reality, feeling the desperate grasping of the light within the dark. The Siberian's body shrunk down to that of a young girl just a few years older than Riley. A simple gray dress clothed her as the transformation completed. The healed daughter of William Manton lay unconscious on the ground next to Riley.

Mannequin was next. The metal bubbles housing his vital organs opened and discarded themselves at my will. A body formed around them, restoring the man who sought to colonize the moon, sanity intact.

Finally, I moved on to Crawler. The blob of organic plates and limbs crumbled, revealing a whole, healthy man garbed in a gray shirt and pants.

Each of these four had been cursed, misshapen against their will into a monster. Now, they would have the freedom to carve their own path. Whether that path led to ruin once more would be their choice.

The unconscious forms vanished in the blink of an eye, sent off to other worlds. Were they to stay on Earth Bet, they would never escape the shadow of who they once were, of what they'd been turned into. Like the Case 53s I healed, I hoped they would find new purpose in a world beyond Scion's reach, but that would ultimately be up to them.

Hands in my pockets, I turned towards the horizon, watching the sun slowly descend in the sky. Life was beautiful when you took the time to admire it. There was darkness, sure, but that's why I was doing what I was doing. Everyone deserves a chance to live their life the way they wanted.