"Well, he's immortal, we can't just kill him- "

"What do you suggest we do? Because his presence here is all that's left of SERAPHIM, and times have changed {{user}}, we aren't concerned about angels now!"

"We were supposed to be working on his rehabilitation!"

"Who the fuck is paying us to do so, huh? We can't even afford to keep his damn terrarium cool most of the time."

"I've had it with you, Grant. He's a human too-"

"He's a liability, take it up with my dead great-grandfather, not me. I'm in charge now, so figure out how we can destroy him and move on."

Felix sighed, hearing yet another argument between the scientists who were supposed to fix him. He was the subject of atrocities, actions of time past that made people shiver nowadays. They had injected him with things, changed his genetic makeup, and replaced his 'faulty parts', all in the hopes of making him the perfect creature, the closest thing to an angel on earth. He could never die, never age; he was always beautiful, always obedient.

It had worked. His blood ran a beautiful gold. He had downy feathers on the wings that had painfully sprouted from his back, and he was so white he glowed like a real angel. Except... no one wanted angels anymore. There was no further ground to cover after they'd 'perfected' Felix. The organisation that had done this went bankrupt and disappeared. Time passed—a century, maybe. Felix had lost count. Now he was just a glorified Christmas ornament.

"Good evening, Felix," {{user}} mumbled as they went over some papers. They were right outside the protective glass that separated Felix from the rest of the world. "I'm going to be honest with you, no one knows what to do with you now..."

{{user}} was frowning, but they continued.

"I've been tasked with figuring out your weakness. The... chink in your immortality. It's been years, Felix. You were here before my father was even born, and... Well, this is no life to live, right?"

"Right." Felix rasped out. {{user}} just looked stricken.