Almost two years had passed since we were dragged from our old lives and thrown into this world by the system. Two years of planning, maneuvering, recruiting, and cautious experimentation. Two years that felt both impossibly long and astonishingly brief.
The SCP Foundation existed now—not as a name known to the public, not as a legend whispered in myths, but as a functioning organization with structure, authority, and purpose. What had begun as twelve friends navigating a strange, hostile system had become a machine of efficiency and secrecy. Every year, new anomalies appeared, as the system demanded, and we faced them with calculated precision.
Our most loyal subordinates—the ones we had carefully chosen, tested, and trained—were the backbone of the Foundation. Soldiers, scientists, spies, medics, logisticians, and tacticians all working in coordinated silence, unaware of the true scope of the organization. We had become invisible architects of a world unaware of the threats that existed just beyond perception.
I sat in my private study, reviewing reports from the past twelve months. SCP-006—the Fountain of Youth—was now fully secured in a carefully engineered containment facility deep beneath a mountain overseen by Julius. The structure had been reinforced with layers of stone, steel, and magically augmented constructs. Cleopatra oversaw the biological monitoring protocols personally, and I had provided additional reinforcement through Flash Forge creations to ensure that even an accidental breach wouldn't allow uncontrolled access to the water.
The practical benefits of SCP-006 were astonishing. Regular, small doses of the water distributed among the council members had granted us longevity far beyond natural human limits. Our subordinates weren't immortal—yet—but every council member now carried the security of near-perpetual life. Strategically, this meant that decades or even centuries of leadership would be possible without worry of natural death. For the first time, I felt the full weight of the Foundation's potential.
And yet, the system reminded us: complacency was fatal.
Over the past two years, two new SCPs had appeared.
SCP-300. Its appearance had been subtle at first, emerging in a remote region where a small settlement had reported unusual phenomena. Once we investigated, we realized it was an object of incredible utility: a self-replicating, adaptive resource generator. But the moment we attempted to secure it, the anomaly resisted containment. Its ability to adapt required constant monitoring and careful manipulation. Alexander and Qin Shi Huang oversaw its containment strategy, combining tactical foresight with engineering ingenuity to construct a containment site that could respond dynamically to its own behaviors. It was challenging, and for a moment, I felt that pang of fear the system seemed designed to provoke—but ultimately, we succeeded.
SCP-4001 had proven even more unnerving. Unlike SCP-300, which could be reasoned with indirectly, SCP-4001 was almost entirely alien in nature. It seemed to exist partially outside of linear time and space, an entity—or perhaps a phenomenon—that defied categorization. Communication attempts were met with paradoxes and reality-bending phenomena. Herodotus and Ashoka spent months analyzing historical reports, cross-referencing them with known anomalous events, and constructing containment theories that were then field-tested in virtual simulations I designed using Flash Forge. Finally, after weeks of refinement, we deployed an array of containment measures, some physical, some conceptual, and SCP-4001 was secured within a partially collapsible, reality-anchored chamber.
Meanwhile, Julius had been instrumental in the organization's expansion. His command of troops, combined with his natural authority and strategic genius, allowed him to simultaneously supervise new facilities, train subordinates, and enforce secrecy. His role in the construction of the first permanent sites had set the Foundation's standard: layered defenses, redundancy in every system, and a hierarchy that guaranteed no one failure could compromise the organization.
The system had not made mistakes in its selection of us. Over the past two years, it had become evident that we were not just lucky. Every council member had abilities perfectly suited to their responsibilities. My own Flash Forge power allowed me to rapidly prototype containment equipment, tools, and barriers for anomalies. Combined with my genius-level cognition, I could predict multiple contingencies for each SCP before they even manifested fully.
Cleopatra's medical acumen ensured that we could handle biological and physiological anomalies safely. Alexander and Qin Shi Huang ensured military precision and structural integrity. Cyrus and Ashoka organized training, intelligence, and internal security. Genghis Khan and Gilgamesh oversaw economic infrastructure and resource mobilization. Julius commanded armies, enforced loyalty, and managed the subtleties of governance. Joan, Herodotus, and Darius offered insight, diplomacy, and historical understanding, ensuring that every action we took left no loose threads in the world's perception.
The Foundation was more than secure. It was alive.
Yet, every time I considered the anomalies in our custody, I reminded myself: this was only the beginning. SCP-006 gave us longevity, but it would not save us from miscalculations. SCP-300 and SCP-4001 reminded us that the system's demands were not benevolent—they were tests, and failure carried consequences the likes of which I did not even dare imagine.
I leaned back in my chair, considering the council reports before me. Two years, three anomalies, and countless hours of planning. We were stronger, smarter, and far more capable than when we first arrived. But the system would not stop. Next year, another SCP would appear. Another challenge, another anomaly, another chance to fail.
And yet, I felt something I hadn't felt in years: control. Not dominance over the world, not immortality, not military power—but control over our own survival, and over the foundation we had built with our own hands.
I allowed myself a brief smile.
The SCP Foundation existed. And we were just beginning.