The O5 meeting had been suffocatingly long—hours of political snarling, territorial arguments, power‑jockeying, and the usual veiled threats. But beneath all of that, something far more decisive had happened: they finally approved one of my most aggressively sought‑after operations.
Wakanda.
A hidden nation of unparalleled technological brilliance. A nation sitting on a mountain of vibranium vast enough to reshape the global power structure. A nation that for centuries believed it could remain hidden from the world.
They were wrong.
And now—finally—I had permission to take it.
I stepped through the portal with Jack Bright on my left and Orochimaru on my right, the swirling blue energy snapping shut behind us with a spatial crack. The African savanna stretched endlessly around us—quiet, deceptively peaceful. Even with Wakanda's cloaking barrier shimmering invisibly just twenty meters ahead, the air felt charged. As if fate itself was holding its breath.
My forces were already here. Death Troopers—my Red Hand units—stood in formation across the dusty ground. Sleek black armor, silent, perfectly disciplined. Every one of them created with Kaminoan cloning technology and conditioned to be loyal to a single O5 member.
These ones were mine.
Over two thousand stood assembled. A mixture of death troopers, Foundation strike teams, engineered anomalous units, and a handful of experimental SCP‑linked operatives Bright insisted on bringing "for fun." Orochimaru's summoned experiments slithered restlessly at the back of the ranks—chimeras of serpents and enhanced humanoids, each with a cold, calculated intelligence in their eyes.
Wakanda had no idea what was coming.
I lifted my hand.
A circular ripple pulsed through the air—the "silenced breach" created by Sentinel, our AI. Using a mixture of Asgardian encryption principles, Chitauri coding fragments, and SCP‑based logic structures, Sentinel had spent months worming through Wakanda's security without alerting so much as a single novice gatekeeper.
And with a soft, almost delicate sound—a hole opened in the barrier.
It looked like a doorway cut out of thin air.
Wakanda's greatest defense, undone with a whisper.
My death troopers raised their rifles in near‑perfect unison. The wind carried the scent of dust, oil, and anticipation. Orochimaru's pale yellow eyes gleamed with hunger. Jack Bright was… well, Jack Bright: unreasonably excited, half‑smirking like a kid about to steal candy from a museum.
"Quite the moment," he muttered, nudging me with SCP‑963 hanging on his chest. "You sure you don't want to make this dramatic? A speech? Some grand declaration?"
I exhaled, then stepped forward.
He wasn't wrong.
I turned to my assembled army. My voice carried through the magically‑enhanced speakers built into my armor, deep and resonant.
"Soldiers of the Foundation."
The ranks straightened.
"For centuries, Wakanda has hidden the greatest metal in existence. They hoarded vibranium and denied it to the world. Today, we correct that imbalance."
A ripple of energy went through the forces—anticipation, righteous fury, loyalty.
"We are the shield that guards humanity from the dark. We are the spear that strikes in silence. We are the Foundation."My hand swept toward the open breach."Today we claim Wakanda—not for glory, not for conquest, but for survival. For the future of Earth."
Orochimaru let out a soft, hissed laugh. Jack clapped sarcastically.
The death troopers didn't react. They didn't need to. They were bred for obedience.
I raised my arm."Forward."
The army marched.
Silent. Perfect. Deadly.
The breach swallowed us, and for a moment the world shimmered—
Then Wakanda appeared.
Instead of dirt and scrubland, endless metallic towers rose like spears of gold and burnished bronze. Monorails flashed through crystalline circuits. Energy shields hummed beneath layers of invisible infrastructure. It was a jeweled metropolis hidden behind centuries of secrecy.
And we were invading it.
The very moment the first troopers crossed the threshold, Sentinel unleashed the second phase.
Every light in the Golden City flickered.
Every HUD in Wakanda's Kimoyo Beads glitched.
Every lab system rebooted.
Every drone froze midair.
Their entire network—centuries ahead of the world—went still.
Checkmate.
"Perfect timing," Jack said cheerfully.
"Of course," Sentinel's synthetic voice replied through my comms. "Their security protocols were predictable. Elegant, but predictable."
Orochimaru slid his tongue across sharp teeth. "Now we harvest."
"Not yet," I muttered. "We do this cleanly."
The Dora Milaje reacted first. Even with their systems compromised, their skill and discipline were unparalleled. The first squad sprinted toward us, spears crackling with vibranium shocks.
My death troopers formed a wall instantly.
"Non‑lethal until I say otherwise," I commanded.
Blue stun bolts illuminated the street. Dora Milaje fell one after another—alive, but unconscious. Their armor clattered across vibranium‑lined pavement.
At the center of Wakanda, the royal palace glowed gold.
King T'Chaka would be either panicking or preparing. I hoped for the latter. He was far more respectable when he acted like a warrior instead of a diplomat.
We pushed deeper into the city. Troopers secured intersections. Orochimaru marked structures for future biological research. Jack wandered dangerously close to a lab with an "Oooh, shiny," before I yanked him back by the collar.
Sentinel updated me through the comms.
"Palace shields are engaging. Three minutes until they fully cycle online."
Meaning three minutes until Wakanda went from stunned to ready for war.
I turned to my lieutenants.
"Bright. Orochimaru. We break through now."
Bright grinned. "Finally."
Orochimaru summoned three enormous serpents formed from bio‑metallic muscle we engineered months ago. They coiled forward, hissing thunder.
I summoned my own power.
My newest anomalous ability—the manipulation of all elements on the periodic table—surged through my veins. A gift that allowed me to shape matter at will so long as I understood its structure.
I raised my hand.
Atoms obeyed.
The ground itself rippled as I pulled purer‑than‑pure vibranium from beneath the palace plaza. I formed it into an enormous cone of metal and launched it directly at the palace shield.
The shield flared gold—cracked—shuddered—
And shattered like glass.
Jack whooped. Orochimaru laughed.
We marched straight into the palace.
Guards fought bravely, but bravery meant nothing against overwhelming superiority. Within minutes, we stood before the throne room.
T'Chaka, dressed in full Panther armor, stood ready.
The moment he lunged, I disassembled the molecules of the floor beneath him, reshaping them into a cage of tungsten bars. He hit the ground hard, claws scraping metal.
He froze, stunned by the impossibility.
"You… what are you?" T'Chaka hissed.
I stepped forward, eyes glowing with elemental energy.
"We are the Foundation."
Jack peered over my shoulder. "You should've let me do my cool one‑liner."
"No," I deadpanned.
Orochimaru approached the trapped king, studying him like a specimen. "Will the royal line be preserved?"
"Of course," I said. "We're not here to destroy Wakanda."I placed my hand against the throne."We're here to claim it."
The conquest was complete.
Within hours, Wakanda's command systems were in my hands. Vibranium mining protocols were rewritten. Their tech was catalogued for the Foundation. Their royal family placed under secure, respectful containment.
Wakanda was ours.
The world had changed again—and no one outside these barriers even knew it yet.