The glass chimed softly as Julius lifted his champagne, the golden bubbles reflecting off the faint blue glow of the Space Stone now locked safely in his containment bracer.He leaned back in the chair across from me, one leg crossed over the other, looking—annoyingly—like a smug king who'd just stolen another empire.
To be fair… he basically had.
My living quarters in Site-999 were spacious, sleek, filled with technology most of the multiverse couldn't comprehend. The atmosphere shimmered faintly with dimensional stabilizers, keeping my Rinnegan from accidentally opening portals every time I blinked.
We sat at a polished black table, two bottles already empty between us.
Julius raised his glass with a grin."To reckless scientific progress and the genius who hides it from the rest of the Council."
I clinked mine against his. "And to the best friend who keeps me from blowing up the universe by accident."
He laughed softly—the rare kind of laugh he only did when it was just the two of us, not O5-2 Sentinel, the walking armory of mythical weapons, but Julius, the only person on Earth who'd followed my madness long before I became this powerful.
"You know," he said, swirling the champagne, "you really should have told me you were building Star Destroyers. I nearly had a heart attack when Doom started yelling about ships in orbit."
"You? A heart attack?" I snorted. "The man who can summon an infinite arsenal out of thin air? Please."
He smirked, and several golden ripples shimmered behind him for emphasis—tiny portals from the Gate of Babylon, each holding a different legendary artifact.
He never missed a chance for theatrics.
"You have to admit," he said, "the Administrator launching three warships into space without approval is… impressive even by your standards."
"I prefer 'visionary.'" I took another sip. "Also, the Council grounded me for three days."
Julius nearly choked on his drink."They gave you a time-out?"
"Yes."
He set the champagne down, wiped his mouth, then burst into laughter so hard one of the golden portals flickered unstable.
I glared. "Don't you dare."
He raised both hands, still laughing. "Sorry, sorry. It's just—Administrator of the SCP Foundation. Phoenix Force host. Otsutsuki DNA. Rinnegan. Infinity Stones. Ruler of Site-999.And Doom gave you a time-out."
I groaned. "Shut up."
He grinned. "Never."
For a moment, we just sat there in silence—comfortable, warm silence. The kind only two borderline-immortal monsters could share after surviving impossible battles and even more impossible bureaucracy.
Julius finally spoke again, softer this time."You know… I'm glad you pulled me into this insanity. There's not many people I trust. Fewer who understand what it's like to hold this much power."
I nodded. "Same. You're one of the only people on this planet who won't flinch if I accidentally tear open a dimensional rift mid-sentence."
"One time," he muttered. "It happened one time."
I smiled. "And you threw a Noble Phantasm through it."
He shrugged proudly. "Improvise. Adapt. Overkill."
We clinked glasses again.
"To overkill," I said.
"To overkill," he agreed.
He leaned back, champagne in hand, Ea's faint outline rippling behind him like a quietly sleeping god."You know," he said thoughtfully, "between your cosmic upgrades and my treasury, there's not much left on this planet that could threaten the two of us."
I sipped my drink, smirking."I know."
"We're terrifying."
"Absolutely."
"Do you ever wonder," Julius said, swirling his glass again, "if anyone else in the Council realizes how utterly unbeatable the two of us would be if we actually worked together on a battlefield?"
I met his eyes.
"They suspect," I said. "But they don't know."
He grinned. "Good."
We raised our glasses one final time.
"To the Administrator," Julius said.
"To Sentinel," I replied.
"And to the fact," he added with a wicked laugh, "that we are, without question, the two most dangerous beings the Foundation has ever employed."
Not employed.
Owned.
The clink of glass echoed softly in the room.
And for once, everything felt… peaceful.