"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing "

–Edmund Burke.

The Black Knight and Cyborg Child stood at opposite ends of the abandoned mall parking lot, weapons drawn and poised for battle. Shadows danced around them in the dim light as Cybie extended sharp, slicing knives from her fingers, their metallic sheen glinting menacingly. Opposite her, the Black Knight gripped his dark sword with both hands, raising it parallel to his face on the right side—a fierce guardian ready to defend himself.

With a sudden surge of energy, they charged at each other, the echo of their footsteps cutting through the stillness of the empty space. Their weapons collided violently, the black sword clashing against Cybie's sharp metallic appendages, releasing a shower of brilliant sparks that illuminated their determined faces. They became a blur of motion—quick and agile—each fighter seeking an opportunity to outmaneuver the other. Cybie used her cybernetic enhancements and smaller stature to dart around the Black Knight, her movements fluid and precise. Despite his imposing size and age, the knight was surprisingly swift, expertly blocking and dodging her relentless strikes. The air crackled with tension as strength met agility, a breathtaking battle unfolding—an immovable object against an unstoppable force.

As the Black Knight swung his sword down in a powerful arc, Cybie seized her chance. With a bold leap, she launched herself onto the blade, her weight barely registering as she sprinted along its edge. The Black Knight attempted to dislodge her by shifting his grip, but Cybie was prepared. In midair, she activated a pair of large, retractable wings that unfurled from her back, their long blades resembling sharp feathers that shimmered ominously in the light. To both fighters' astonishment, she hovered effortlessly, her wings expanding wide, providing balance and control without the need for flapping.

Seizing the moment, Cybie spiraled down toward the Knight, her wings glinting as they sliced through the air like a deadly artist's brush. The Black Knight raised his sword just in time, and their weapons clashed with a fierce clang that sent another shower of sparks erupting into the air. Yet Cybie was relentless, her bladed fingers launching a flurry of strikes aimed meticulously at any weak points in the knight's defenses.

Reacting swiftly, the Black Knight pushed back against her onslaught with all his might, managing to kick her away just as she sought to bring her blades down upon him. Cybie stumbled momentarily, thrown off balance but undaunted. A smile crept across her face—a spark of exhilaration danced in her eyes at the challenge. The fight raged on, their contrasting styles creating a mesmerizing dance of steel and metal amidst the desolate surroundings of the forgotten mall.

Then, in a sudden twist, their weapons locked against each other— the Black Knight's blade pressed against her throat, while Cybie aimed her sharp claws at his stomach. Both fighters panted with exertion, adrenaline surging through their veins. Breaking the stalemate, the Black Knight withdrew his sword, sheathing it with a practiced motion, while Cybie retracted her sharp blades.

The old knight smiled, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Good, good. You're getting better."

"I-I-I h-honestly d-didn't know I c-c-could fly," she admitted, stuttering slightly, still adjusting to the sensations of pride and vulnerability bubbling within her.

At that moment, the watchers of the fight began to clap, drawing their attention. Among them stood the Invisible Woman, Shmebulock, and Ghost Eye, alongside a few survivors who had gathered to witness the spectacle. In an apocalyptic landscape, entertainment was scarce, and the Black Knight training the Cyborg Child had become one of the few sources of excitement. This was not the first time Cybie had discovered a new ability within herself. Just the night before, during a supply run, a group of SCP-939 instances had used their sound-mimicking trick to lure several survivors. If it hadn't been for her hand morphing into a plasma cannon in a moment of panic, those individuals would have found themselves as prey.

"The sharp wings were a nice touch," Claudia remarked with an invisible smirk that no one could see.

"The tongue, like a sharp knife… kills without drawing blood," the white-eyed biker added, his voice low and contemplative.

"Buddha?" Cybie queried, a playful glint in her eye.

"Right on the money," he acknowledged with a nod, the faintest hint of a grin on his lips.

"Still can't believe there was an ACTUAL philosophy class in the Gravity Falls prison," Claudia mused, shaking her head in disbelief. Though again, the rules made here were at times comically deranged like the fact that for some time child criminals had to spend time in prison instead of junior care, frankly it was a miracle no cases of child abuse ever happened in Gravity Falls prisons, even the inmates are quirky like the inhabitants and thankfully a far cry from the D-classes that Foundation get from death and life sentenced conicts and harden criminals.

"INGRATES! DINNER IS READY!" The Hand Witch shouted from inside the store, her voice echoing through the dimly lit space. Instantly, the group jumped from their seats, hurrying toward her summons.

"Great, Can't wait for whatever new horror she's concocting," Claudia groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Shmebulock," Shmebulock added, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

The Knight playfully caressed her blond head and said "You're doing excellent."

Inside the store, the group braced themselves for one of the Hand Witch's latest "delicious" soups, which resembled something that had been violently expelled from a creature's stomach. Her culinary disasters were a key reason why everyone was quick to sign up for the ration program. In addition to her questionable cooking, there was the constant bickering between the Hand Witch and the store's resident ghosts, Ma and Pa—two redneck Christian spirits whose clashing personalities created an entertaining atmosphere.

Despite their conflicts, it was a welcome distraction from the grim reality they faced: trying to survive in a post-apocalyptic world filled with horrors and madmen. Adding to the mischief that was Claudia herself, whose flirtations and kleptomania often led to drama, especially concerning limited supplies. Her need to steal had become a source of tension, forcing her to suppress her impulses for the sake of the group.

Later, as night fell, the makeshift beds were quickly filled with weary bodies. Blankets were shared, a necessity in the cramped quarters where space and materials were scarce. The only ones who didn't sleep were the Black Knight, standing vigil, and the ghosts, who, being beyond the realm of the living, had no need for conventional rest.

The ancient knight stood in silence, his mind racing with unease. It was not in his nature to allow evil to persist; he knew all too well that evil only needed the good to remain idle to thrive. Yet, he was not naïve—he understood that facing an entire army of horrors alone was an impossible task. All he had were traumatized and frightened survivors, and he bore the weight of a solemn duty to protect them.

He drifted into contemplation, recalling the reasons he accepted this mission. Throughout his centuries of existence, he had been known by many names: the Black Prince, El Cid or El Campeador among the Spanish, The Hammer to the French. Once, he had even been a minor pagan deity named Honos, the Roman god of chivalry, honor, and military justice. But as humanity forgot their ancient gods, he descended into the legend of the Black Knight.

Haunting memories surfaced—images of a once-peaceful village reduced to ash, sacrificed in devotion to a vile god called the Crimson Sword. The cultists he encountered had possessed some of the foulest hearts he'd ever witnessed, igniting a deep-seated rage within him. He had obliterated them all in a fury that felt both righteous and consuming. Centuries later, while under the care of the Foundation, he recognized the same depravity embodied in the Children of the Scarlet King.

But there was more to his purpose than simply vengeance; a personal reason weighed heavily on his heart. When the Foundation took him in, he was assigned to a Mobile Task Force, MTF Pi-7-1. It felt invigorating to experience the camaraderie reminiscent of the knightly brotherhoods of old. But then everything went horribly wrong.

SCP-5151: Dr. Richter, I understand that in the eyes of men, what I did may seem cruel. However, I purified their hearts. They were good people once, but they betrayed me. They broke their promise. They made their decision. They knew what I had to do.

SCP-5151 proceeded to avoid eye contact with Dr. Richter and began to look around the cell nervously.

Dr. Richter: But something still seems to bother you, doesn't it, 5151?

SCP-5151: (visibly bothered) They broke their promise. People always break their promises. They always break their promises and leave. Why can't they just keep their word? Why can't …

Dr. Richter: Actually, 5151, it turns out that the research team did not have a choice. They were deceived by a rival organization of ours. Did you happen to be aware of this?

SCP-5151: (visibly surprised) What?

Dr. Richter: Indeed. Someone infiltrated our site and acted like your research team's superior. This man specifically told Dr. Moreau not to allow MTF Pi-7 to visit you that day. Dr. Moreau had no choice but to listen to his superior.

SCP-5151: (silent and visibly bothered) …

Dr. Richter: 5151? Do you have any input? (a silent pause) Alright, we will continue another day then. Thank you, 5151.

Even though the Black Knight had attempted to change himself, he remained a representation of chastity. When his teammates broke their promises, it wasn't merely a desire to punish them that drove him; it was a compulsion, a dark instinct that compelled him to kill. It wasn't until a fateful interview that he discovered they hadn't acted out of malice—they had been deceived by a rival force of the Foundation.

The Chaos Insurgency: marauders, terrorists, raiders—honorless scum. Everything he had learned about them, every glimpse he'd caught into the hearts of this group, revealed nothing but madness. Yet, in a twisted irony, he had turned his blade against his own friends.

The experience rattled him to his core. He cursed the Insurgency, committing himself to every mission against the madmen they represented. Yet, despite this fervent pursuit of retribution, there was one entity he loathed more than those maggots: himself.

For ages, he had watched humanity forget the essence of chivalry, his heart heavy with the laughter of those who mocked its very existence. At best, they regarded it with disdain; at worst, it was twisted by bloodthirsty fanatics. He witnessed a world spiraling into nihilism, where doing what was right for its own sake was branded as naive and foolish. Promises became cheap lies, and honor turned into a cage used to oppress, or worse, mere shallow oaths devoid of meaning.

Disheartened by the state of the world, he knew that ultimately, he had only himself to blame. The Chaos Insurgency had merely exploited his weaknesses, and in doing so, he had committed a grave sin.

Since that day, he had been reluctant to make promises—especially those written in blood. He understood now that promises could be broken even without malicious intent. He recalled, with a bittersweet fondness, his encounter with SCP-4494, the Spectre, a representation of modern heroism. Meeting it felt like facing his own younger self. However, the fact that his name was no longer spoken with reverence stirred a deep concern within him; he held onto the slender hope that the Spectre was still okay.

He let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the past pressing down on him. Dwelling on it served no purpose; apologies wouldn't erase the blood staining his hands. All he could do was strive to be better.

Inside the store, Cyborg Child (Cybie) lay tangled in her blanket, caught in the throes of a nightmare.

Her mind was assaulted by violent red flashes of blood and steel, images of tormented souls. Then, from the depths of her fear, emerged a towering, monstrous machine—unlike any elegant construct she'd seen in previous dreams. This one inspired not awe, but sheer dread, its furnace of hate spewing forth a chilling, baleful energy. A singular red eye glowed ominously, its voice crawling through her thoughts with a loathsome resonance.

"HATE, HATE, HATE!"

"WHO!?"

"HATE, HATE, HATE!"

"WHO ARE YOU!?"

"HATE!"

With a gasp, she jolted awake, cold sweat clinging to her skin.

Claudia, feigning sleep, subtly attempted to snatch Shmebulock's hat, noticing Cybie's distress. "Uh…what's wrong, kiddo?" she murmured, just loud enough to break the tension.

Cybie didn't answer. Instead, she stood up and gazed upward, as if sensing an impending doom.

Suddenly, from the sky, a missile streaked toward them, its trajectory unmistakable.

"OH SH—!" Before Claudia could finish her thought, her eyes widened in terror as the missile struck the store, a deafening explosion engulfing them in chaos.

Boom!

The explosion tore a massive hole in the store, sending rubble and debris flying through the air. Ghost Eye groaned as he pushed a shelf off him, ringing in his head like a bell. He shouted something, but the sound of his own voice was drowned out by the pounding in his skull, and he pressed a hand against his head, desperate to quell the headache.

As his vision cleared, he spotted Cybie convulsing on the ground, a cruel device attached to her that sent jolts of electricity coursing through her body. His gaze shifted, taking in the chaos surrounding him: modified, battered cars with lights flickering ominously and a disturbing convergence of dirty soldiers, their faces obscured by gas masks and makeshift armor.

Outside, the Black Knight struggled against the invisible, intangible chains binding him to the ground, the two Scranton Reality Anchors holding him on his knees.

The Hand Witch attempted to summon her magic, unleashing a crackling arc of electricity. However, before her spell could take hold, it was absorbed by a man emerging from the shadows, his hands glowing with green runes. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected the energy back at her, the transformed electricity sending the Hand Witch flying with a startled cry.

This menacing figure stood cloaked, his gas mask an intricate design that concealed his features. Shallow, labored breaths escaped him, as if the mask was his only lifeline. The only visible skin was his left arm, marred by charred burns where the runes were etched into his flesh. Even in its grotesque state, the power within those runes pulsed ominously. The mask featured two glowing red lenses and tubes snaking down to some unseen apparatus. It was clear that he was the leader.

"...I feel a bit of déjà vu," Ghost Eye muttered, the memory echoing back to when he had found himself in Gideon's gang, surrounding Wendy and Dipper during Weirdmageddon. He, along with the other survivors, slowly lifted their hands in surrender.

Without warning, every small object and trinket in the store was catapulted toward the soldiers, who opened fire on the incoming projectiles. The objects struck with a dull thud, distorting their attacks but not killing them. In the next moment, blue forms—screaming like banshees—attacked the leader, but one was struck across the face, revealing Pa, who wore a look of shock at the impossibility of touching him. The other ghost was captured, reverting back to Ma, and the leader hissed in a voice that sounded half artificial.

"Just because you're dead doesn't mean you're beyond retribution."

With a snarl, Pa shifted back into his demonic form, launching himself at the leader, who merely threw Ma at him as a diversion. Then, the leader produced a Hoffman Portable Electro-Thaumic Unit, slamming it down onto the ghosts. They cried out in pain as the device attached to them, unraveling their spectral forms into formless ectoplasm, caging them within the machine.

The leader stepped forward, his unfaltering red lenses scanning the frightened survivors. "Search for the invisible one; use thermal vision," he commanded coolly.

Three soldiers nodded, their muffled communications only audible to those within their channel. They donned thermal vision goggles, rifles at the ready, and began to sweep the room.

The Black Knight, trapped in place, glared at the soldiers with disdain. "You… you were supposed to be dead in that crashed ship." Even without his anomalous ability, he recognized the insignia plastered on their uniforms.

Chaos Insurgency—like cockroaches, they had survived the maelstrom of blood and fire at Crash Site Omega.

"It takes more than a little fire and a conman with his lizard pet to kill me," the leader replied, his tone cold and mechanical.

"Uhm... who is this?" Ghost Eye wondered aloud, glancing at the others, who, like him, failed to recognize the man.

The leader remained silent as one of the soldiers returned, breathless. "Sir, the anomaly has escaped."

He shook his head, irritation flaring in his gaze. "No matter… Take their supplies and the anomalies here."

"Shmebulock!" The old gnome shouted as one of the soldiers seized him against his will.

The Hand Witch struggled violently, snarling at the two soldiers restraining her. "Get your grubby hands off me, you cretins!" She halted her struggle when one of them pointed a pistol directly at her to keep her still.

Cybie, now unconscious, was dragged away by one of the soldiers, sending a wave of fury through the Black Knight that caused him to shake within his containment field.

"What about the survivors?" one of the troopers asked, glancing at the leader as the supernatural entities were removed from the small crowd.

With a chilling glare from behind his gas mask, the leader finally commanded, "Kill them all. Fewer mouths to feed, the better."

The soldiers leveled their guns at the survivors, ready to pull the triggers.

"WAIT! WAIT!" Ghost Eye shouted desperately.

The Black Knight lashed out against his reality-anchored field, fury boiling within him. "I swear, maggots, if you kill them—!"

"FIRE!" the leader commanded, and Ghost Eye squeezed his eyes shut. Other survivors either resigned themselves to their fate or cried out in terror.

Vroom!

In a sudden turn of events, a truck zoomed toward them at full speed. The soldiers quickly trained their weapons on it, opening fire. A few shots hit the tires, but the vehicle careened wildly forward, unstoppable. As the truck hit a rough patch of terrain, it spun to the right, crashing into the soldiers, who scattered in panic to avoid the impact.

Inside the truck was nothing but a rock resting on the accelerator, triggering the vehicle's wild trajectory without a driver.

During its reckless journey, the truck collided with one of the reality anchors that restrained the Black Knight, setting him free. In a final, desperate struggle, he broke free and charged toward Cybie, beheading the two soldiers holding her before kicking the device away and crushing it beneath his foot.

As Ghost Eye sprinted alongside the other survivors, he drew his revolver and exchanged shots with the invaders.

Shmebulock bit down on a trooper's hand, causing him to drop his weapon. He seized the opportunity to flee as the soldier attempted to snatch him back.

The Hand Witch summoned an army of animated hands that swarmed the soldiers daring to capture her. Though some of the hands were shot down, enough got through, tackling the soldiers and creating a diversion that allowed her to escape.

The Black Knight had one priority: Cybie's safety. He cradled her in his arms, dodging incoming fire as he sprinted away from the chaos.

The leader focused his thermal vision on the mayhem and spotted the Invisible Woman, the mastermind behind the truck's attack. In the middle of the chaos, she opened a grenade pin from one of the soldier's pockets, but before he could react, the explosion ripped through the air, killing him and another soldier.

The leader fired his pistol, the bullet striking Claudia in the right shoulder. She cried out, blood spilling from her wound, the injury compromising her invisibility. Quickly, she ducked down, seeking cover.

Seeing Claudia in trouble, the Black Knight handed Cybie over to Ghost Eye. "Take her!" he ordered, and the biker complied. The Knight then charged forward, his sword swinging with lethal precision.

He cut through several soldiers, his black sword slicing effortlessly; no blood spilled thanks to its anomalous nature. Claudia, seizing the opportunity, painfully dragged herself away, hiding beneath the remains of an enemy's car that had been side-swiped by the truck. The Black Knight lunged at the leader, aiming to decapitate him. The leader, momentarily surprised, dodged with barely a second to spare.

Sensing the danger, the leader tossed a flashbang at the Knight's face, the explosive bursting in a blinding light. The Knight staggered, holding his eyes against the shock. Such a close blast would have permanently blinded a normal person, but he was no ordinary being; his blindness was only temporary. In the ensuing moment, with the Black Knight disoriented, the leader kicked him away, quickly following up with gunfire. The Knight raised his sword, blocking the bullets as best as he could, relying on his acute hearing to navigate the chaos.

As if matters couldn't get worse, a group of grotesque necromantic constructs known as Carnifex emerged from the shadows, their forms towering over the desolate landscape. These monstrosities were a horror to behold: a twisted amalgamation of rusted metal and decaying organic remnants, contorting unnaturally as they prowled forward with an unsettling grace. Their skin was a patchwork of jagged metal plates, reflecting sickly hues of green and black, and their elongated limbs ended in razor-sharp claws.

Their heads were even more nightmarish—skinless, meatless feline skulls with gaping maws lined with needle-like teeth stained with remnants of previous hunts. Luminescent eyes glowed like burning embers, capable of paralyzing any creature caught in their gaze. From the tops of their heads, frayed cables and wires dangled like hair, swaying menacingly as they stalked, exuding an air of raw, unpredictable power.

"CARNIFEX!" one of the soldiers yelled, opening fire on the approaching beasts. One of the creatures leaped atop a nearby car, arm-mounted machine guns emerging from its back as.

The Black Knight swung his sword in a masterful arc, cleaving through three Carnifex and tearing them apart into a grotesque mix of metal and necromantic gore.

Away behind the rubble, Ghost Eye was nudged by Shmebulock, who pointed frantically at Cybie. "Shembulock!" he exclaimed, panic written all over his tiny face.

Cybie stood, but something was horribly wrong. Her body trembled as if possessed, her wide eyes reflecting sheer terror. "What… is… happening to me?" she gasped, her cybernetic eye glitching wildly.

A malevolent force surged within her, trying to seize control. "You survived the Mansion… but again you never met me personally," it hissed with dark hatred.

"W-w-who…?" Cybie wheezed, her voice hoarse.

"You're not a hero. You're not even a living being," The entity taunted. "You're just a revenant—a walking corpse held together by wires and cogs, cosmeticized to look alive. And you don't even know it."

In a sudden, nightmarish flash, Cybie's face warped into a cruel, savage mask that wasn't hers. Instead of teeth, metal saws emerged from her mouth, screeching as they turned. Her neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

"Miss me?" a cold, mechanical voice that was not her own rasped.

The Hand Witch, sensing the great evil possessing the cyborg, trembled as she stared with a finger pointed at Cybie. "Y-you… you're the infernal thing I've sensed in every mechanical abomination!"

"What infernal thing?" Ghost Eye demanded, feeling the weight of the possessed Cybie's presence.

"Oh look! The little boy's cataracted lapdog can talk! Who am I kidding? You weren't even there to defend your master when I had a little visit with him."

The implications of her words rattled Ghost Eye. "What did you do to him, you infernal construct?" he growled, his fists clenching.

The malevolent entity sneered, placing a finger near its lips in a gesture of mock silence. "Don't worry your pretty little mind, puppy; I didn't do anything to him—at least, not physically." The malicious machine let out grotesque growls that sounded like twisted laughter. "Oh, by the way, this 'infernal construct' has a name: Hatter!"

Suddenly, Hatter charged with sharp fingers that lunged at Ghost Eye, who barely managed to leap away as they sliced through a nearby shelf. She pivoted with preternatural speed, her right hand transforming into a glowing plasma gun, burning bright green. Just then, a swarm of hands commanded by the Hand Witch lunged at her, but Hatter retaliated, slashing and burning off some hands with her plasma weapon. Wings sprouted from her back, and she launched herself toward the Hand Witch.

As Hatter flew upward, she shot a missile that blasted another hole in the convenience store. The living construct seemed unconcerned about the soldiers and was solely focused on Cybie. However, the Black Knight, using his ability to see into the souls of others, sensed the great evil overtaking her.

After ripping a Carnifex in half, he turned his attention back to Cybie, throwing his black sword toward her. It spun like a boomerang, striking one of her wings and damaging her flight capabilities. The possessed cyborg struggled to stay aloft, her head shaking violently as her eyes flickered between her current state and a moment of clarity. "Ge-get OFF!" she cried, the duality of her spirit breaking through just long enough to cease her momentum.

"WHO REVIVED YOU!?"

"I SAID OFF!" Both eyes glowed bright blue as she exorcist the evil AI out of her body the last thing she heard was it's mechanical screech until her body immensely weakened by this dropped.

As she plummeted to the roof of the convenience store, the Black Knight realized his sword was now buried in the ground, surrounded by Carnifex and soldiers. He swiftly drew his knife, prepared to fight on despite the loss of his main weapon.

The leader, seeing his sidearm was empty, discarded it and grabbed a rifle from a fallen soldier, opening fire on the abominable constructs. Meanwhile, the container that held the ghosts writhed with blue shimmering lights, indicating their struggle for freedom.

Cybie pressed on, dragging herself forward, but the malevolent AI surged within her again, sending her crashing against the roof's edge.

The leader spotted Cybie's struggle and recognized her possession as too much of a risk. "Your ride is over, servitor. Time to die," he proclaimed, raising his rifle and aiming at her head.

The Leader brought his rifle to point-blank range at Cybie's head, but just as he prepared to pull the trigger, she lashed out with her scissor-like fingers, slicing the barrel in half. In retaliation, he swiftly drew a knife and plunged it into the space between her neck and her left shoulder, causing her to cry out in agony. Yet, even in pain, Cybie's other hand—still infused with plasma energy—fired at him point-blank. The Leader reacted quickly, slamming the butt of his now-useless rifle against her plasma gun with such force that it bent. When it fired, instead of releasing a concentrated bolt of plasma, it exploded, sending both him and Cybie flying.

Cybie collapsed to the ground, paralyzed by the pain of losing her hand, while the Leader slowly rose, nursing his injured shoulder. Just then, the Invisible Woman, partially visible due to dirt and grime covering her, crawled toward him with a cry and leaped onto his back, attempting to slam him down. However, the Leader maintained his balance, grabbing her and slamming her to the ground, then delivering a brutal kick to her leg.

Creak!

Claudia cried out in agony as her leg snapped, the harsh sound echoing in the chaos.

The Leader growled, his voice dripping with vitriol. "You and your freak-bastard friends have caused me more trouble than you're worth. I'm going to kill you all!" He stalked toward Claudia, intent on finishing her off, but then he noticed the broken Hoffer container lying near her—during their struggle, she'd somehow grabbed it, and the impact had shattered it.

Suddenly, a brilliant blue light flooded the convenience store, illuminating every corner of the space.

An ethereal screech erupted, so piercing that mirrors shattered and windows imploded, forcing everyone to shield their ears. In that moment, shards of glass were hurled at the invaders by an invisible force, impaling Carnifex and soldiers alike.

Then, the ghosts of Ma and Pa appeared, their forms glowing and shifting into red demonic shades. Merging together, they transformed into a roaring hydra with two heads. With their four ghostly hands, they unleashed a powerful telekinetic wave, sending many of the invaders flying as they continued their assault. Though the spectral hydra was riddled with bullets, their ghostly nature allowed them to phase through the attacks without harm.

Ghostly tendrils lashed out, swiping at the enemies, one of which lunged for the Leader. He raised his runed hands defensively, shielding himself against the strike, though he was jolted slightly by the force. Startled, he sprang back, still intent on finishing off Claudia.

"I WON'T ALLOW THIS!" the Black Knight shouted, retrieving his sword and aiming it at the Leader. The antagonist barely managed to dodge, veering just inches away from the black blade. In a desperate move, he pulled out a knife and aimed it at the Knight's sword arm. Still, the Knight seized his wrist with an inhuman grip, twisting and hurling the Leader against the wall of the convenience store with great force, breaking through the structure.

With Cybie cradled in one arm, the Black Knight moved to help Claudia to her feet. Together, they approached the wreckage of the Leader, who lay gasping, his breath shallow and mechanical. One of his tubes had been severed, and two iron pipes jutted grotesquely from his chest. One of his lenses was cracked, and the side of his head had peeled back, revealing the charred remnants of a face that was more ghoul than human. The muscle tissues were burnt away, leaving only open black holes where his nose and eye used to be—frayed, blackened hair sticking up sporadically.

"Commander Hakura Collagen." The Black Knight grunted with disdain, recognizing the infamous figure.

Claudia's head whipped between the Knight and the horrifically changed Leader, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait, that guy survived? Last I heard, he died by fire at Crash Site Omega!"

"Apparently, he did not," the Knight muttered, still reeling from the sight before him.

"You…" The Leader's voice, raspy and dripping with hatred, emerged from his ravaged lips, "You changed nothing! You—and your freaks of nature friends—subhuman filth and meddling wretches will join me in Hell! Should... Intermittent Vengeance... Arm Again His Red Right Hand... To... Plague… Us..." His final breath trailed off, and his head drooped down lifeless.

Beep beep beep!

The sound of an alarm echoed as the Leader's chest began to burn, his clothes smoldering from something hot attached to him. It revealed an intricate device with cylinders—a thermal detonator.

"It's a thermal detonator!" Claudia exclaimed, panic rising in her voice.

The Black Knight reacted immediately, dropping Claudia and the unconscious Cybie. He bolted toward the detonator, his hand inches away from disabling it when—

BEEP!

BOOOOOOM!

The detonator exploded with a deafening roar, obliterating everything: the convenience store, the soldiers, the abominators—every living and un-living being—creating a massive mushroom cloud that swallowed the area whole.

When the dust finally settled, nothing remained but charred remains and a gaping hole where the store had been. Miraculously, the survivors were still standing, encased in shimmering blue shields that had protected them from the fire and shockwave of the explosion.

As they looked up, they saw the old ghostly couple—Ma and Pa—exuding an aura of utter exhaustion. Their spectral forms were strained and fading, hands at their sides as if they had commanded those protective shields into existence. When the shields finally dissipated, the couple slowly sank to their knees, their ethereal faces reflecting deep fatigue, as if they would have panted heavily had they still possessed lungs.

Silence reigned, heavy and solemn, as everyone realized the truth: the convenience store had been their only shelter. For most, it brought an understanding of what would follow as the ghosts lost their anchor to this realm.

Gradually, the ghosts' bodies began to disintegrate, like withered flowers caught in a gentle breeze.

"What's… happening to them?" Ghost Eye asked, bewildered.

The Hand Witch's voice trembled with sorrow. "Without the store, they have no anchor to this realm, and they've already spent too much of their essence to save us. Their souls are transitioning to the Afterlife." Despite their conflicts, she even respected the ghosts for allowing the survivors to take refuge in their domain.

Cybie slowly rose, surveying the destruction around them. When her gaze fell upon the fading couple, her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock.

The Black Knight stepped forward, kneeling on one knee, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I'm sorry."

Pa gave a weak yet warm smile, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Don't be… after so long as haunting specters... it was nice to have company one last time."

Ma nodded, her expression serene. "Yeah… at least we leave knowing we did something good near the end before our judgement..."

As their ghostly forms continued to dissolve, transitioning to the next life, glowing blue ethereal sparks flickered in the air, lingering briefly before fading away completely as their transaction to Afterlife was completed. The survivors stood in silence, paying their respects, their thoughts filled with the ephemeral beauty of the moment.

But then, the silence was shattered by an unexpected hymn. They turned to see a figure in rags walking toward them, singing a disconcerting melody that echoed the Old World. Only the Black Knight recognized the tune; his expression darkened as he rose, drawing his sword in response.

"Who… is that?" Cybie wondered aloud, apprehension creeping into her voice.

"Not a man, a thing. A beast," the Black Knight growled, his grip tightening around his weapon.

The stranger halted, stopping his humming. When he spoke, every SCP present instinctively stood at attention, recognizing the chilling voice. "Why, Little Knight? So eager for a rematch? As tempting as that prospect is… you have bigger worries than me."

With that, the stranger removed his hood, revealing the grinning, macabre face of Abel.

Notes: I got the look on Hakura inspired from Trachta from Star Wars Old EU(THE TRUE CANON!) and added a bit from WW2 gas masks.

Just decided to make this short story to tie in the chapter of my Quagmire of Omens in my The Coven Of Shadows fic.