The self-named team widow was struggling with their mission. They were by no means strangers to challenging missions, but this one was proving to be completely impossible.
Their target was after all nothing but an inanimate object, and while it might be a pretty and valuable piece of jewelry it was still one in countless amulets out there.
While they did have many pictures and even replicas of the object they were looking for, it had all amounted to nothing. Every attempt had come up short. They hadn't expected something like a simple internet search to have given anything, but the complete lack of progress so far was still grating.
Even the pleasure of having escaped their grueling training was hardly worthy of excitement these days.
Entire months spend achieving nothing, not even a tiny clue to go on from. By now, they had practically visited every high-end store that might sell something like that.
They had broken into museums and private collections to check if they could find it anywhere.
Yet, despite all their efforts, the amulet remained elusive. Team Widow had exhausted their usual channels of information, and even their unconventional methods had yielded no results. It was as if the object simply didn't exist in any accessible part of the world.
The frustration was building, but Team Widow had kept themselves busy in the meantime, each of them taking turns investigating leads that turned out to be nothing more than dead ends. It wasn't like they were sitting around doing nothing—they had covered ground all across the globe, but none of it had brought them any closer to the amulet.
Natasha had paired off with Yelena more than once, the two of them falling into their natural rhythm as a team. They spent time in London, Paris, and even Tokyo, moving through the black-market underworld, pretending to be buyers in high-end auctions.
They had questioned shady dealers, infiltrated private showings, and even broken into a few secured vaults, but every time they came up short. None of the artifacts, no matter how rare or valuable, had been the one they sought.
While in Paris, between investigations, Natasha and Yelena had taken the opportunity to enjoy their freedom, something they had both been deprived of for so long. One evening, after a particularly frustrating lead, they found themselves at a small café, sipping wine and watching the world go by.
For a brief moment, it was easy to forget the mission and just enjoy being normal—two sisters with nowhere else to be. Yelena had smiled, something rare for her, and said, "At least we aren't stuck in the Red Room. No one's trying to kill us. That's a win."
Melina Vostokoff, another former Widow and their field tech expert, had spent her time combing through digital archives and old auction records, working with Natasha on some days, and on others with the younger recruit, Ava Orlova.
Together, they had tracked down historical mentions of the amulet in dusty libraries and online databases, trying to find any clue about its origins or possible connections to the Ten Rings. Melina had been the one to first suggest that the amulet might have been passed down through generations of powerful figures, which is what led them to the Mandarin connection in the first place.
When Melina and Ava weren't working in the field, they spent time in the team's temporary base of operations, a sleek apartment in New York City. The two often found themselves talking over tea late at night, their conversations drifting from the mission to more personal matters. Ava, still relatively new to the team, would listen to Melina's stories about life in the old days—back when being a Widow meant something far different. "You're lucky," Melina had told her one night. "You get to choose your missions now. We never had that."
Ava, for her part, had been busy with her own share of investigations. Paired with Melina, they had spent time in Berlin and Dubai, following leads from old jewelers and collectors, hoping to find some trace of the amulet.
Ava's strength lay in her ability to blend into crowds, to slip unnoticed into spaces where she wasn't supposed to be. She had scoured private collections, often by posing as a curator or an assistant at high-profile events. But even with her skills, every lead had turned out to be another disappointment.
Despite the mounting pressure, the Widows had found moments to relax. When they weren't out chasing down leads, they made the most of their downtime. Yelena had discovered a love for obscure 80s movies, and one night, the entire team had gathered in the living room of their base to watch a cheesy action flick with popcorn and drinks.
For a few hours, they let themselves forget the mission and just laugh at the absurdity of the plot, a rare moment of camaraderie that reminded them they were more than just a team—they were a family.
But the downtime never lasted long. Even when they relaxed, the mission loomed over them, a constant reminder that their freedom came with strings attached. Natasha couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility every time they came back empty-handed. The amulet wasn't just some lost artifact—it was a ticking clock, and the longer they took to find it, the greater the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
As the weeks stretched into months, each member of Team Widow had learned to strike a balance between the mission and the fleeting moments of peace they could steal. Natasha, ever the leader, kept them moving forward, reminding them that no matter how difficult the search, they were the best of the best. If anyone could find the amulet, it was them.
Though perhaps the amulet didn't need to be found, perhaps it would find the Foundation instead.
-----------------------
The moment the man's fingers brushed the surface of the amulet, a wave of cold shock traveled through his body, freezing him in place. His heart raced, his breath caught in his throat as the world around him seemed to dissolve into a blurry haze. The distant sounds of explosions and the hum of Foundation aircraft faded, replaced by a deafening silence that pressed against his ears like a weight.
He couldn't move, couldn't speak. It was as though the amulet itself had seized control of him, anchoring him to the spot. A sharp voice suddenly rang out in his mind, cold and calculating, sending shivers down his spine.
"You're not who I expected… But you'll do."
The voice wasn't his own. It was older, more sinister, yet disturbingly calm. Panic surged through him as he realized he wasn't alone inside his own head. Something—someone—was there, watching, waiting. His eyes, though wide with fear, slowly began to shift focus, not by his will but by the will of the entity that had now taken over.
SCP-963 had found its new host.
The man's body jerked upright, his posture unnaturally rigid. His hand gripped the amulet, but it wasn't the man anymore—it was Dr. Jack Bright. His consciousness had been transferred once again, the latest in a long line of victims to touch the cursed object. The man's eyes blinked, now cold and calculating as Bright assessed the situation.
"Well, well," he muttered under his breath, testing the new body's vocal cords. "This is certainly... unexpected."
His gaze shifted to the chaos outside the window. Wakanda, a kingdom he had never once heard about, how had SCP-963-1 ended up here? And just how had he never known about this kingdom in the first place?
Dr. Bright was, after all, not just any run-of-the-mill Foundation Scientist.
Dr. Jack Bright was, in fact, one of the most infamous and long-standing members of the SCP Foundation, a man whose name was spoken with a mixture of reverence and dread by those who knew him. For Jack Bright was known to be utterly insane!
Before he had become intertwined with the cursed object, Dr. Bright had been an ordinary, if exceptionally brilliant, scientist working for the Foundation. His intellect was unmatched, his curiosity boundless, and his dedication to securing, containing, and protecting the world from anomalous entities was as strong as anyone in the Foundation's upper echelons.
He had only just started out, noting more than a junior researcher, he had every desire to work himself to the top, he had the skills and dedication for it. Yet one day, he was assigned a Euclid level object, SCP-963.
Nothing was known about it at that point, other than that it seemed impervious to damage, and that it had been found in the possession of some suspect dead individual.
Dr. Jack Bright had thought it would be just another routine assignment, albeit one involving a higher-level anomaly. SCP-963 seemed harmless enough—an ancient, ornate amulet with no immediately observable properties other than its indestructibility. He was eager to prove himself and more than willing to dive headfirst into researching what made this object unique. At the time, he couldn't have imagined the consequences of such an innocuous task.
As a junior researcher, he worked tirelessly, conducting endless tests on SCP-963. He was determined to unlock its secrets. His colleagues often joked that he was obsessed with the amulet, but Bright dismissed their concerns. After all, the Foundation existed for that very purpose: to study and contain the unexplainable. What harm could a bit of extra dedication do?
Sometimes, a lot had been the answer to that question.
A/N
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