Wings for the Damned

White walls.

White floor.

White ceiling.

In the center of the room, devoid of other colors, lay a man with his arms outstretched. His pale skin and his gray hair were almost lost against the floor, not to mention his overalls, which blended into the room altogether.

There was no sound.

The man didn't move.

Was he even alive? Physically, yes, because if you watch long enough, you can see the occasional blink. But mentally… Well, only the old man could tell that. Whether he could do so was another matter. Watching this man through dozens of cameras, he would answer no, and also complain about his fate and terrible boredom. However, how exactly to deal with it the guard already knew, and therefore in just a few seconds of concentration next to him appeared his exact copy. And a few moments later, she went to one of the cabinets and, after spending some time looking at the covers, pulled out a book. The ability to separate one's consciousness and create a material shell for it was a must for any agent of their rather enormous organization, and the Watcher had mastered it to perfection, but it was more a matter of experience than talent. Too often he was left to monitor something or someone, and too often the time limit exceeded a couple of decades. All in all, another twenty-four hours where nothing would happen. At least that was what the Watcher hoped for. It wouldn't be any fun at all if, after a couple of millennia, the only prisoner in the Stasis Prison tried to escape in a change of agent, which is barely the tenth year here...

"Neglecting your duties, Michael?" A woman's voice made the Watcher jump… both versions of him. The clone dispersed almost immediately, though, with a loud clap, dropping the book.

"No, I didn't... Just…" The agent began with a pale expression.

" Was fighting boredom, relax, I used to do it myself," the Boss waved her hand meekly, "No changes?"

"Fortunately," Michael relaxed and sat back in his chair, moving only slightly to the side. Not that it was necessary: there were about a dozen cameras in the camera and each of them was displayed on a separate screen in the observation point, so that even if one failed, the object was not lost from view. In addition to the cameras, there were various sensors and sensors and they were already on the two monitors in front of the Watcher. "Not a single movement, unless the occasional blink is counted as such."

"I have two news for you, I would say both of them are good, but who knows how it may turn out," the girl pressed something on the wall and a chair appeared next to her, on which she collapsed with obvious pleasure, and then, without waiting for an answer, continued: "First: you are transferred to the field."

"So…" the agent nodded, he has long wanted to leave this place and return to more active work. Another thing is that they don't send one of the heads of the Agency to report this kind of information. "I don't think I'd like the second one very much."

"Probably. The second news is that before we leave we were instructed to give two things to the… prisoner", the girl extended her palm and above it appeared a rectangular hologram, which after a second turned into a folder with documents, inside which, in addition to papers, there was a steel sheet. "Dossier and Portal."

"Wh… what? Are you fucking serious?" The Watcher jumped up from his chair. After all, was the agency really serious about letting that monster go? A monster they'd sacrificed five high-ranking agents and who knows how many hundred more below him, just to catch him? And the guy himself almost joined that statistic… And if you think back, it was only because he just decide to give up by himself, "It's…"

"It's unfortunate. The alternative was to send two O-s," the chief quite shared the indignation of her subordinate and was one of the few who voted against the decision. "However, according to the Oracle's calculations, their chances of success are the same as those of sending the Horror. The problem lies in the failed outcomes: either we lose two of the last four remaining O-s, or we get rid of the headache that now lies on the cell floor. As you can see, the vote was almost unanimous."

"If Horror fails, we'll still have to send the O-s," the Watcher quickly came to terms with the situation. If the Oracle was involved, it was useless to try to change the situation. Even the so-called "elections" given by this O-s were nothing but a gesture of politeness, for he often already knew which option would be chosen. "Oh, and the destabilization would also increase."

"As soon as the Heads heard about the possibility of getting rid of the Horror, they were to consider completely ignoring any risks involved, including the return of the Monster here with "the best of intentions"," the Warden chirped and said, clearly parodying someone. "If that happens, it won't be your problem anymore."

"Fucking freaks," the guy finally stopped holding back and turned to the screens, then pressed a few buttons on the panel. Next to the supervisor a small shelf slid out of the wall, into which the girl dropped a folder, and a moment later it fell into the cell next to the prisoner with a slight pop.

The Watcher and the Warden tensely watched the action of the Horror. Ideally in their case there was nothing to worry about: the stasis chamber blocked any abnormal abilities of those inside, regardless of the strength of the victim, and the prisoner had not made any attempts to escape since he was confined. But nothing could be a hundred percent certain…

Jumping up sharply, which almost made the watcher activate protective protocols, the old man with a light movement of his finger drew the steel sheet to himself and following the memorized instructions folded it in half and pushed it away from him. In spite of the acceleration, the object barely moved and just hung in the air. The old man leaned slightly so that his face was against the sheet and closed his eyes.

The agents watching involuntarily tensed up. Now the most dangerous part began, and though the portal was set up for a particular world, they were both familiar with changing endpoints. What the Terror was doing now was nothing more than creating an "avatar," for despite its name, these devices did not move the main body, but rather wrote into the history of the world whatever the agent wished. From a simple appearance to the history of one's childhood and parents. Often this process took a long time, or one could simply choose random or recommended options… Which it seems the old man did, that he had already finished with the setup and as soon as the portal opened, immediately made a move. As soon as the prisoner disappeared from the chamber and the agents, having confirmed through a special sensor that the Terror had indeed traveled to the desired world, they exhaled in relief. Now nothing really depended on them.

"World three thousand one hundred and thirty-three?" The Watcher took a closer look at the sensor reading. "Isn't that the one we got the last O-s from?"

"Exactly. Amazing place, because even the simplest task, as in this case, is almost the most difficult mission and all just because of the exit point," the girl covered her eyes. "To leave, you just have to climb to the very top…"