Sequel of Enhanced (An Avenger's FanFiction).
After her supposed "death", Andromeda Johnson awakens to a new world not far from the one she was used to. She is in a whole new, dangerous world. A world on the brink of collapse. An enemy endangers thi...
Alpha-9's final recruitment mission begins with Meda assembling her team—Katie, Leora, Dean, and Moose—for a critical stop before returning home. Their destination is Site-20C, where the volatile SCP-457, known as "The Burning Man," awaits potential integration. Upon arrival, Meda conducts a tense but intimate interview with 457, offering him a chance at purpose through the use of a prototype Arc Reactor and a suit designed to honor, not suppress, his fire. The conversation reveals 457's long history of isolation and pain, countered by Meda's offer of belonging and choice. With cautious hope, 457 accepts, stabilizing into a new humanoid form and joining Alpha-9 not as a threat, but as a flame with direction. The team departs in their quinjet, 457 now among them, grappling with his identity not as a weapon, but as something still becoming. Meda reassures him that growth is not weakness, but transformation—that fire can protect as much as it can destroy. As they fly home, 457 sits not as cargo, but as a passenger, alive and becoming.
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The announcement crackled through the common room speakers, Jocasta's voice crisp and deliberate, threaded with a lilt of quiet amusement. "Estimated arrival in twelve minutes. Just in time for dinner. The mess has chili, rice, fresh naan, and one of Meda's ridiculous protein bars, which I have graciously stolen and replaced with a mango."
I looked up from the couch where Ji-Hu and I had been sprawled for the last hour, mock-arguing about who would win in a fight: an unarmed chaos spirit or a reality-anchored toaster. She had argued the spirit. I had, of course, chosen the toaster. Iris glanced up from the other end, her legs folded beneath her, journal still in hand. She smiled softly, like she always did when Meda was close. Even from orbit, I think Iris would know. She had the kind of intuition that saw emotion like others saw color. "They're back," she murmured. "Mm," I replied, rising with the ease of habit. My tail coiled behind me, flicking once to reorient my balance. "About time." We were already halfway to the hangar when the first hiss of hydraulics whispered down the corridor—docking clamps releasing, atmospheric pressure equalizing. The doors hadn't even opened yet when Ji-Hu stretched her arms behind her head and grinned.
"I give Katie twenty seconds before she flings herself at Iris." Iris opened her mouth to protest, but the doors parted, and the quinjet began to lower its ramp. Four shadows emerged—Katie first, bounding like the momentum of travel hadn't touched her. Leora followed, slightly more composed, her eyes darting like she was soaking in everything at once. Dean trailed them, quiet and tectonic. And behind him, cloaked in heat and humming light, came SCP-457—now dressed in the obsidian-silver weave Meda had designed. He glowed less like a blaze now, more like a hearth. Contained, steady. But still dangerous. Katie saw Iris and didn't hesitate. "IRIS!" she shrieked, launching forward with kinetic affection and wrapping her arms around her in a tight, bone-creaking hug.
