After Luna finally settled into her assignments—her little legs swinging while she recited fractions with the casual cosmic authority of a child who could accidentally rewrite gravity—I slipped out of her room, kissed her soft silver hair one more time, and headed down the long steel corridor of Site‑999.
Next on my list: Orochimaru.
My best researcher. My most brilliant subordinate. And, somehow, the most manageable mad scientist I had ever dealt with. Quite the accomplishment, considering I'd summoned him from another universe five hundred years ago. The very same Snake Sage of Naruto's world—reborn under my command, tempered by the system, sharpened by centuries of experiments, and loyal only because he recognized genius greater than his own.
He respected me.He feared me a little.And the feeling was mutual.
I descended into the deep laboratory sector, the air sterile and cold, the lighting stark white. This was Project Chimera, Orochimaru's domain.
He appeared the moment I approached, slipping out of a side room with that unnerving, serpentine grace. Black hair, golden eyes, pale skin—still unmistakably himself after five centuries. He smiled, soft and dangerous.
"Ah… O5‑1," he hissed pleasantly. "I assume you're here to check on the X‑Gene trials?"
"Of course," I said, stepping beside him. "This project is too important not to monitor personally."
He gestured for me to follow, and I walked with him through the observation corridor overlooking the testing chambers. D‑Class personnel paced in reinforced rooms, each one injected with a tailored X‑Gene serum. The mutants from the other world—the one we'd conquered and drained for samples—had supplied us with thousands of unique abilities. Some desirable. Some not.
"The latest batch has shown… mixed results," Orochimaru said, voice silky with amusement. "One developed pyrokinesis, although he lacks control. Another exhibited a regenerative ability. Two others… mutated into forms that are useless for combat or research."
"Useless equals disposable," I said simply. "As always."
He smiled wider, pleased by my efficiency. "Naturally. I've already arranged execution for the failures. But the successful mutations—we can refine them. Extract the genetic signatures. Adjust compatibility profiles. Your serum framework is extraordinarily elegant."
I shrugged. "Perks of having Rick Prime's mind."
He chuckled darkly. "You undersell yourself, my dear. Your improvements to my original X‑Gene grafting models were… revolutionary."
I glanced down at a D‑Class who was levitating unintentionally, screaming as he floated near the ceiling. Telekinesis—rudimentary, but promising.
"Copy that one," I instructed. "Combat‑grade telekinesis is always useful."
"Of course," Orochimaru replied.
We continued down the hall, watching, evaluating, eliminating. The system rewarded efficiency, and we rewarded potential.
The world outside was marching toward World War One.But inside these walls, we were building something far greater—an army of superhumans engineered with precision, controlled by the foundation, and shaped by two centuries of forbidden knowledge.
"Soon," Orochimaru murmured, "every superior ability in that world… and ours… will be catalogued. Replicated. Weaponized."
I smirked.
"Good. Because the SCP Foundation doesn't just contain anomalies anymore…"
"We control them," he finished, smiling like a serpent before its feast.
And it was true.