The orphanage smelled of soap, polished wood, and warm soup.
It wasn't a large building.
An old stone structure, renovated through anonymous donations — some of which came from accounts that officially did not exist.
The children called it the house with the blue windows.
Jeanne was crouched down, a needle between her fingers, patiently sewing the sleeve of a coat that was too big for a little girl.
— Don't move, Lucie… there you go.
The girl looked up, smiled, then nodded with touching seriousness.
— Thank you, Madame Jeanne.
Jeanne smiled back.
A few meters away, Hercules was carrying three crates of food by himself, without any visible effort.
He had learned long ago never to show his true strength.
Here, he was simply "Henri," a tall man with calloused hands, always ready to help.
— The vegetables are stored, he said calmly. And I fixed the fence in the back.
— Thank you, Jeanne replied. You didn't have to.
Hercules shrugged.
— If we don't do it… who will?
They exchanged a knowing look.
It had been thirty years.
Thirty years since the squad had disbanded.
They had lived together for centuries.
Fought. Learned. Protected humanity from the shadows.
But one day, they understood a simple truth:
They could not stay together forever.
Even if they were a team, each of them wanted to live their own life.
So, without drama, without resentment,
they separated — out of a need to live.
Ayris, daughter of a Throne, had settled in Greece.
She taught philosophy at a university under a false name.
She wrote at night.
Books about justice, free will, moral responsibility.
She had loved a man.
She buried him at fifty-seven.
She kept writing.
Levian, son of a Virtue, chose medicine.
A humanitarian surgeon.
War zones. Natural disasters.
He saved lives where no one wanted to go.
He married.
His wife died peacefully in her sleep.
He cried.
Then he picked up his bag again.
Anansi had disappeared from the radar.
But in reality, he managed entire networks of libraries, cultural centers, and oral transmission.
He fought against forgetting.
Against falsified narratives.
Sigurd lived in the north.
Forest. Lake. Silence.
He crafted musical instruments.
He had completely withdrawn from modern society, which he found immoral.
Mulan ran a martial arts school.
She taught discipline, balance, respect.
Never hatred.
Each lived their own life.
Some remarried, fully aware they would one day watch those they loved die of old age.
Others simply settled in the countryside, far from what they saw as the decadence and stupidity of society.
But they had made one promise:
When one calls, all will answer.
Until then…
They lived.
Back at the orphanage
A child stumbled.
Hercules caught him before his body even touched the ground.
— Easy there, little hero.
The child burst out laughing.
Jeanne watched the scene.
It was strange.
She had commanded a squad.
Faced demons.
And yet…
This is where I feel at home.
Later, outside,
She joined Hercules.
— You know, she said softly, sometimes I wonder if what we're doing is enough.
Hercules thought for a moment.
— Well, obviously, just the two of us can't erase all the misery in the world.
But even these small gestures are enough to make it a little better.
Jeanne smiled.
— You've always been the most optimistic of us, Hercules… thank you.
— Why?
— For staying with me. You could have left and lived your own life, but you stayed by my side.
Hercules wanted to say something, but held back.
He simply gave her a knowing look.
— Come on, let's go. It's getting late. Sister Anna will worry, and the kids too.
— Of course. Let's go, Monsieur Henri.
— Honestly, I regret choosing that name.
— I gave you other suggestions.
— You wanted to call me Jean la Fougère. Honestly, you French and your weird names.
— You can talk. With names like Charalabos or Despoina, Greeks are really terrible at names too.
They returned to the orphanage, arguing about names, then eventually went their separate ways to their rooms.
The orphanage was calm.
The children slept.
Rain gently tapped against the blue windows.
Jeanne was sorting documents when the air vibrated.
She received a telepathic message from Hercules, asking her to join him outside.
When she stepped out, she saw the hologram of the Foundation and SCP-469.
She and Hercules were not unfamiliar with SCPs — they had seen other anomalies — but seeing 469 display such power thanks to SCP-001 made them deeply uneasy.
Obviously, the hologram was being broadcast across the entire planet.
Only supernatural beings could see it.
Humans saw nothing in the sky.
Twelve Virtues. Perfect formation. Synchronized halos.
Then SCP-469.
The wings.
The silence.
The keyboard.
The words.
The Virtues crushed, devoured, rewritten.
When the message appeared:
[You are not the protagonist of this scene.]
Jeanne felt her knees weaken.
But she stayed standing and clenched her teeth.
Hercules clenched his fists.
— Virtues… he murmured. Not minor angels. Virtues. How is that even possible?
For several seconds, Hercules remained silent, arms crossed.
— …Virtues.
He didn't say it as a question.
Jeanne nodded.
— Twelve. In perfect formation.
She took a breath.
— They didn't even have time to retreat.
A long silence.
Then Hercules exhaled, almost amused — a joyless laugh.
— It's been a long time.
Jeanne looked at him, surprised.
— A long time since what?
— Since someone reminded us why we were sent here.
She didn't answer.
All she could do was pray in her heart for the fallen Virtues.
....
Anansi — Accra
Anansi was sitting in a small community library, in the heart of Accra.
Around him, children were reciting what he had asked them to find.
He had seen the hologram, like all supernatural beings.
But before doing anything, he wanted to finish his lesson.
After making sure every parent had picked up their children, he finally decided to act.
— …They broadcast that on purpose.
He smiled, but this time there was irritation.
— Is the Foundation really benevolent, or…
No. Not the time to think about that.
He stood up and grabbed his phone.
An old model.
A memorized number, never saved.
— Hello, Jeanne.
— Hello, Anansi… did you—
— Yes, don't worry. I already know.
So, how are you and Hercules? Where are you right now? Still in London?
— We're fine. No, we're in France. Wait, I'll send you the coordinates.
— Thanks. Am I the only one—
— No, don't worry. You're the fifth to call.
— I'm glad the others answered too.
— Done. I sent them.
— Thank you. I'm coming as fast as I can.
...
Ayris — Greece
Ayris had closed her computer.
She stared at her reflection in the window.
She had seen the hologram from her room, her heart heavy.
— Virtues…
She sighed.
Not fear. Fatigue
She thought of her students.
Her books.
The grave of the man she loved.
— I thought nothing would ever push me to fight again… even though I should have expected it after the first anomaly appeared.
But why did it have to be today?
She picked up her phone.
— Hello, Jeanne. I'm coming. I already know where you are. I just want to know if the others are on their way too.
— …A hello is always nice, you know.
— …Sorry. I'm just… tired.
— You know you can stay. I'm not forcing you.
— No. I want to do this.
And I think he would have wanted me to.
— If that's your choice…
— Thank you.
— And Ayris… don't forget. No matter how hard it gets, we're here.
She hung up.
Ayris touched the pendant around her neck.
Inside was a photo of a man.
— Happy wedding anniversary, my love.
I hope you're watching over me from the sky.
....
Levian
Levian was sitting on a crate, his back against a wall.
He had just finished an eighteen-hour shift.
He hadn't spoken since the broadcast.
A nurse looked at him.
— Doctor… are you okay?
He nodded.
— Yes.
Then, after a pause:
— I just… have an old oath to honor.
As he left the hospital, he immediately took out his phone.
— Hello, Jeanne.
Sigurd
Sigurd stared at the hologram with an empty gaze, wondering how he should proceed.
It wasn't that he didn't want to act — he was simply worn down.
Having withdrawn from all civilization, which he found immoral and unjust, he did not benefit from modern technology like phones or other communication devices.
He lived only off what nature provided.
Don't worry — he wasn't some crazy nudist.
Just imagine a farmer in his prime.
That was Sigurd.
He wondered how he was supposed to contact the others, or even know where they were.
— Damn it… I should've bought a phone or something.
As he decided to head toward the nearest town, two kilometers away, he heard the sound of a motorcycle.
The rider performed several stunts before stopping.
He removed his helmet.
Sigurd was not happy to see that face.
Wukong:
— Hey, brother! How's it going?
Sigurd:
— No. No. No. No. No. No.
He moonwalked backward like Michael Jackson.
Wukong:
— Damn it, what are you doing? Come back!
Sigurd slammed the door of his cabin shut while shouting.
Sigurd:
— How do you expect me to come out when the original bus lunatic is standing outside my house?!
Do I need to remind you of all the insane stuff you pulled the last time we met?!
Wukong:
— Oh come on, it's fine. You should be thanking me.
I'm the only one who knew where you were and actually came to visit.
Sigurd:
— Go to hell.
Wukong:
— I just wanted to take you to the meeting with the others, and this is how you welcome me?
Fine. Figure it out yourself, idiot.
Sigurd:
— Swear to GOD this isn't one of your schemes.
Wukong:
— Me? Swear on Buddha—
(puts on a Chinese accent)
Sigurd:
— I said swear on GOD!! Asshole!!
Wukong:
— HAHAHAHA alright, alright, I swear on GOD.
Now come on, get out. The others should already be gathered.
After a moment, Achilles finally came out.
Wukong and Achilles got on the road, heading toward France to join the other Nephilim, who were already waiting