I can't believe it's almost been 1,998 years since that god tore me and my four friends out of our old world and reincarnated us into this one—Marvel, of all places—with an SCP Foundation system jammed into our souls and instructions to "found the Foundation."Yeah. No pressure.
I used to be a genius scientist back on Earth. Now?
Now I'm O5‑1, the mind behind the organization that shouldn't exist in this universe yet somehow does—because we built it. The system gives us rewards whenever we contain an SCP or improve the Foundation's reach. Out of everything I've earned over the centuries, nothing compares to the most valuable reward I've ever bought:
Rick Prime's mind.
One moment I was already brilliant. The next, I was… something else entirely.Multiversal intelligence. Limitless creativity. A brain that thinks in ten dimensions and processes infinite variables as easily as breathing.
It changed me.Everything changed me.
I used to be warm. Normal. Human.Now I'm cold, calculating, confident, a little sassy, and—fine, I'll admit it—just a bit paranoid. But when you're running the SCP Foundation in a universe full of gods, monsters, cosmic entities, and mutants, paranoia is basically a survival trait.
My friends have all changed too. Each of us acquired powers over the centuries—some from the system, some from the anomalies themselves. We're all living SCPs now, but no one cares. Without these abilities, we'd be long dead.
Fortunately, SCPs appear only about once a year. That's still horrifying, yes, but manageable. And after nearly two millennia… we've collected thousands.
Sometimes I wonder if the god who reincarnated us expected this level of success.Or if we've already surpassed his expectations.
I sigh and push those thoughts aside.I don't have time for philosophical spirals. I have work to do.
Because of my system rewards, I gained complete knowledge of Star Wars technology—and, with Rick Prime's brilliance guiding my hands, I spent several decades constructing an Imperial‑style military infrastructure that would make the Emperor proud.
Above Earth right now, dozens of Imperial‑class Star Destroyers orbit silently, forming a protective web strong enough to slap away most alien invasions like annoying flies. We have superlasers, ion cannons, shield projectors, and technology this world isn't ready to comprehend.
Kaminoan cloning tech?Yeah, I reproduced that too.
When your mind runs on Rick‑Prime-level intelligence, everything becomes solvable. Gravity manipulation, hyperdrive optimization, genetic engineering… trivial. Every century I look back at my older work and cringe, because even then, I was far weaker intellectually than I am now.
And thanks to one of our greatest breakthroughs—opening a stable portal to an alternate universe—we gained access to the X‑Men world. Now my friends and I all have X‑Genes, mutated to perfection under my guidance.
But enough reminiscing.
Right now, I need to focus. I stand in my main laboratory—a fortress of white metal, humming machinery, and cold blue holograms—and pull up my newest project file. Rows of diagrams, schematics, and genetic charts flicker around me like floating stars.
"This should be fun," I mutter to myself.
Because if everything goes according to plan…my next creation will change the balance of power in the Marvel universe forever.
And with my godlike intellect?
I won't fail.