Chapitre 273: Wakanda no more -268
Within the SCP Foundation, secrecy was very much the name of the game. Most things were on a need to know only basis. Most people under a certain rank wouldn't even know about the nearest SITE to their own, much less know anything about other personnel they didn't come into contact with.
This was even more so when it came to knowing about higher-ranked personnel; for most people, even the O5 council was nothing more than tall tales and rumors, people they could never hope to see even the shadow of, much less know anything about.
Yet there were exceptions to everything, and this was no exception; Dr Jack Bright was well-known within the Foundation. He was a high-ranking researcher, yet the same veil of secrecy did not surround him as others.
That wasn't to say that a lower ranked worker would know much about such an illustrious Doctor, but they would at least know about him, know rumours about him, even if half of that was likely to be untrue.
That was Jack Bright, the most famous person within the SCP Foundation. The crazy stories about him were known to anyone that had worked there for a while, though once again, many crazy rumors were mixed in, making it hard to know what was true and what wasn't.
He was many things, brilliant for sure, but for those in charge, for members of the O5 council and those close to them like Ghost, aka Napoleon, he was nothing if not a source of a constant headache.
Napoleon loved being in the field. He took joy in leading teams to complete missions. However, he took no such joy in dealing with Jack Bright, someone whom you just couldn't get rid of.
Even if you killed him, protocol required giving him a new D-class host, at which point he would be right back at annoying whoever it was that killed him; he just wouldn't shut up.
Napoleon arrived at the temporary holding area where Dr. Jack Bright was being contained, still in the body of his latest unfortunate host. The structure was hastily constructed and fortified, a makeshift cell lined with vibranium walls to ensure no sudden escapes. Bright sat in the corner, twirling SCP-963 around in his fingers, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as Napoleon entered.
"Ah, if it isn't the infamous conqueror himself," Jack greeted, grinning as he leaned back against the cold wall. "I must say, I didn't expect a meeting with someone so… illustrious. What brings you to this fine establishment?"
Napoleon ignored the sarcasm, standing tall, his eyes fixed on Bright. "I could ask you the same question, Doctor. How did you end up in Wakanda, of all places?"
Bright laughed, his voice echoing off the vibranium walls. "Ah, that's the million-dollar question, isn't it? One minute, I'm lounging in the brain of some unfortunate soul in a Foundation facility, and the next, I'm here, surrounded by all this." He gestured vaguely at the cell, his gaze never leaving Napoleon's. "It's quite the mystery."
Napoleon wasn't someone that had spent a lot of time with bright, preferring to normally stay far away from the half man scientist, but he knew him well enough to understand what he was saying. "So you don't know… I should have expected as much."
While Bright might be in the dark, Napoleon was well aware of the overall situation; the mysterious CK-class scenario was the likely culprit here; he didn't know much about it, but he knew well enough that it was likely behind all kinds of strange things.
Napoleon took a measured breath, trying to push aside his frustration. "If you're truly as clueless as you claim, then you're even more of a liability than I anticipated, Doctor."
Jack Bright tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity. "And here I thought you'd come to interrogate me. But you seem to know more than I do about why I'm here. Care to enlighten me?"
Napoleon wasn't about to divulge any more than necessary. "All you need to know is that Wakanda is not the place for you to be running around unchecked. Whatever brought you here has already caused enough chaos."
Bright smirked. "Chaos is the Foundation's bread and butter. It's practically in our job description to dance around it."
"You've caused your fair share of it," Napoleon shot back, taking a step closer. "But this isn't about you. This is my chance to prove myself and show my true abilities, and you, Bright, won't ruin this for us."
Bright's smirk faltered for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of understanding. "Ah, I see. This isn't just another mission for you, is it? It's personal." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as if trying to peer into Napoleon's very soul. "You're trying to prove yourself to the rest of the Council, aren't you? Still hoping for a seat at the grown-up's table?"
Napoleon sighed, feeling angry yet knowing it was all pointless; anger did nothing to Bright. The Doctor was simply bored, and he was his current target for amusement. "Take the amulet to SITE-019, I'm sure they can put his skills to use there." Napoleon finally ordered one of his men.
Bright's expression shifted from curiosity to mock offense, his usual smirk dancing on his lips. "Oh, come on, Napoleon. That's cold, even for you." He leaned back against the vibranium wall, twirling SCP-963 with deliberate flair. "I thought we were just starting to bond."
Napoleon ignored his cries, determined to at least spare the people having to transport Bright from having to listen to him. He was sure Bright wouldn't mind having to travel as an amulet in a box, or even if he didn't agree, he couldn't do much.
So, with a smile on his lips, he turned around and left while some of his men came forward and carefully and without touching the amulet, placed it in a box, as to which the host, a random Wakandaian man, fell to the ground, brain dead.
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In the following days, the last chapter of Wakanda's history came to a close, the entire nation was conquered, and the people mercilessly murdered, not even taken as D-class personnel, the Foundation showed its true brutality in this mission.
And while the ones doing the true clean up was a small hardened core of men acting directly under O5-1, many others who had taken part in the initial assault were still marked by the horrors of war.
Still, for something so bloody and brutal, it quickly turned back into politics as soon as the fighting came to an end. Napoleon for one was happy he didn't have to deal with that for now, able to instead remain in the field and deal with the post was arrangements.
Still, over the course of but a few days, millions of people had been killed, one of the greatest displays of war crimes ever had just been committed, and none knew about it, an entire nation wiped out, and the world would forever remain in the dark.
Such was the task of the Foundation, to ensure that the darkness in the world remained there, to ensure that normal people could go around their days without having to even know about what was lurking out there.
Wakanda was a nation that could have caused untold amounts of damage, yet they had been happy to hide away, and due to this they had been wiped out, it was a sad tale that none would ever hear about.
Even within the Foundation, most of the one hundred thousand combat personnel had been given low grade amnestics to make them forget about the mission, both to not burden them with the knowledge of the war crimes they had committed, but also so ensure that they would forget about Napoleon.
Napoleon stood amidst the ruins of Wakanda, looking over what had once been a thriving and advanced civilization. Now, it was reduced to ashes, debris, and the echoes of a history that would never be remembered.
The monumental task of erasing an entire nation from the world's consciousness weighed heavily, even on someone as hardened as him. But, as always, he steeled himself, pushing aside any sentimentality. This was just another job.
After a long moment of silence, he spoke to the operative beside him, "Ensure every trace is gone. Technology, documents, bodies, everything. The world must never know what happened here."
"Yes, sir," the operative replied, saluting before hurrying off to carry out the order.
Napoleon turned his gaze to the horizon, where the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky a deep red. It seemed almost poetic, as if the world itself was mourning the death of Wakanda. But poetry had no place in the Foundation's work. There was only duty, only the mission.
As he prepared to leave, his communication device beeped. It was a direct line from SITE-001. Alexander, O5-1, appeared on the small screen. "Report," Alexander commanded, his tone neutral but authoritative.
"Wakanda is ours," Napoleon replied, keeping his voice steady. "The mission is complete. There's nothing left."
Alexander's expression remained unreadable, but Napoleon could sense the approval. "You've done well. But there's still much work to do. The integration of their technology and resources will take time. Return to SITE-001 once you've ensured everything is secure."
"Understood," Napoleon replied, nodding. As the communication ended, he took one last look around before heading toward the extraction point.
For now, his part in the conquest was over. But he knew that the consequences of this mission would ripple through the Foundation for years to come. As he boarded the jet that would take him back to the world of shadows and secrets, Napoleon couldn't help but think of Dr. Jack Bright's words.
"Chaos is the Foundation's bread and butter."
A/N
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