Doctor Jack Bright stood in front of SCP-914 with the same manic excitement of a child staring at an unopened toy chest—if that toy chest could rewrite the laws of physics and accidentally annihilate a small nation.
I crossed my arms as I watched him pace around the machine, muttering to himself, sketching formulas in his notebook, and occasionally cackling like a madman. Honestly, he was perfect for this job.
SCP-914 had been moved to Site-24—an entire facility redesigned from the ground up just for this single anomaly. The cost was absurd, the logistics were nightmarish, and the risk assessment team nearly mutinied. But none of that mattered. This machine was worth more to the Foundation than an army or a nuclear stockpile. It was a forge for the impossible.
And now it was mine.
Doctor Bright turned toward me, goggles pushed up onto his forehead."So, Boss," he said, tapping the machine's brass railing, "you want weapons. Refined weapons. No creatures. No sentient plasmic horrors. No unexpected eldritch upgrades with a side of damnation. Just… clean anomalous tech."
"Exactly," I replied. "This era is starving for scientists. No computers, no engineering standards, barely any chemistry. We need technology leaps fast, and SCP-914 is the best way to do that. Start with small items—materials, alloys, tools. Then we refine from there."
Bright grinned. "Oh, I like this. But you do realize that ninety percent of 914's outputs are… unpredictable, right? I could put in a metal rod and get a lightsaber—or a screaming metal snake trying to eat my face."
"Then wear thicker gloves."
He didn't laugh. That worried me slightly.
I walked along the length of the Clockworks, admiring its alien precision. The gears were immaculate—polished brass intertwined with mechanical designs so intricate no human could possibly replicate them. The machine hummed softly, as if aware of our intentions.
God, I loved this machine.
With 914 in our possession, we could finally begin creating anomalous weapons—controlled anomalies, tools built to empower the Foundation, not threaten it. Our enemies ranged from ancient gods to cosmic entities to superpowered individuals walking around like ticking time bombs. If we wanted to survive—if humanity wanted to survive—we needed things that could punch above their weight class.
Bright snapped his fingers. "I'll start with Telekill Alloy. A small sample. See what the Fine and Very Fine settings do."
"Good." I nodded. "And remember: I want documentation on everything. If something comes out sentient, we contain it—not weaponize it."
Bright raised an eyebrow. "You're no fun."
"And you're not allowed to blow up Site-24."
He smirked. "I'll do my best."
I sighed. That was the most dangerous answer he could have given me.
As he began prepping the first test cycle, I stepped aside and opened my datapad. The Foundation was expanding rapidly, exponentially faster than it ever did in the original SCP world. We now had:
Modern firearms and ammunition.
Neuralyzers reverse-engineered and mass-produced.
SCP-2000 secured—an option for total human reset if the absolute worst happened.
The ability to summon talents from fictional universes.
Telekill Alloy for anti-psychic and anti-memetic operations.
SCP-079's code partially understood, giving us insight into evolving AIs.
SCP-005 and SCP-662 safely contained at Site-17.
And now, SCP-914—our greatest creation tool.
The O5 Council had grown more coordinated too. Each of us now wore an Akatsuki Ring—a communication tool I had purchased from the system and distributed. Stylish, effective, encrypted, and nearly indestructible. Even O5-2 liked them, and he hated everything.
The Foundation was no longer a late medieval experimental group. Piece by piece, year by year, we were dragging this ancient world into a hybrid of SCP efficiency and 21st-century progress. It was slow, costly, and exhausting—but we were getting there.
Bright called out, pulling me from my thoughts."Alright, Boss. First test ready!"
I turned toward him, excitement prickling at the back of my mind.The gear shifted. The machine whirred.
Telekill Alloy slid into the Intake.
Bright pulled the lever.
The setting clicked to Fine.
The entire facility held its breath.
This was it—the first true step toward building our anomalous arsenal.
The Clockwork Forge had begun its work.