บท 265: The boots on the ground -260
By this point Gabriel Dawson had been with the Foundation for over a decade, though it felt like a lifetime. He was born into a life that had promised simplicity—his father had been a firefighter, his mother a nurse—and from an early age, Gabriel was taught the importance of helping others, of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. It was a lesson that had been seared into him, one he had carried with him through every chapter of his life.
His introduction to the world of the anomalous came at the age of 24, while serving as a police officer in a small town in Ohio. There had been a series of disappearances, the kind that didn't make the news because no one cared enough to notice. But Gabriel noticed. He followed the clues that others ignored, and what he found was something that defied explanation—an entity that existed only in reflections, a creature that could pull people into mirrors and trap them forever. Gabriel had been ready to confront it, armed with nothing but a gun and his stubborn determination, when a team of men and women in black uniforms appeared out of nowhere and took control of the situation.
They saved his life that day, and in the process, recruited him into the SCP Foundation.
"You've got the right instincts," the recruiter had told him. "And we could use someone like you."
Gabriel hadn't hesitated. He joined the Foundation, and for the first few years, he trained relentlessly. He learned about the anomalies that roamed the world, the creatures and entities that defied the laws of nature and posed a threat to humanity's very existence. He learned how to fight them, how to contain them, and most importantly, how to protect the world from them.
But working for the Foundation wasn't just about fighting monsters. It was about making sacrifices, about doing what needed to be done, even when it was difficult. Even when it was impossible. Gabriel had watched colleagues die, had seen innocents caught in the crossfire, and had made decisions that haunted him long after the missions ended. Yet, he had always believed in the mission, always trusted that what they were doing was right.
His work took him all over the world, to places where reality was bent and broken. He had seen things that would drive most people mad: ancient gods slumbering beneath the ocean, shadowy figures that fed on despair, and machines that could rewrite history with a single command. He had battled entities that existed outside of time, had chased monsters through cities that existed only on alternate planes of reality, and had held the line against threats that would have torn apart the fabric of the world.
There was one mission, in particular, that stayed with him—a containment breach involving SCP-096, the "Shy Guy." It was the first time Gabriel truly understood the weight of the Foundation's responsibility. He had been part of a team tasked with evacuating civilians from a small town after a photograph of SCP-096's face had been accidentally posted online. The creature had torn through the town like a hurricane, and Gabriel had watched as it killed anyone who had seen its face, unable to do anything to stop it.
They had been lucky that it hadn't spread further then a small local facebook page, and all who saw it was within the same place.
He had stood in the wreckage of that town, blood and dust on his face, and had felt the full weight of what it meant to work for the Foundation. "We protect humanity," one of his senior agents had told him, "but we're not always the heroes."
That lesson had stayed with him, through every mission that followed.
And then, he was assigned to Wakanda.
Gabriel had known of Wakanda, of course—everyone had heard whispers about the hidden African nation that possessed technology far beyond anything the rest of the world could dream of. But even the Foundation had only a limited understanding of what truly went on within its borders. So when the order came down that they were to launch an operation against Wakanda, Gabriel was stunned. It wasn't their usual mission. This wasn't about containing an anomaly or protecting humanity from some otherworldly threat. This time, they were the threat.
He, along with others, had been called into a briefing by his superiors; the man giving the speech hadn't been someone he knew, likely someone far too important for someone like him to ever meet normally.
The official—a cold, severe man with a stern expression—stood at the head of the table, and Gabriel sat with several other agents, all of whom had seen their share of impossible situations.
"Wakanda possesses resources and technology that have been concealed from the world for far too long," the official began, his voice echoing through the dimly lit room. "We have reason to believe that these resources pose a potential risk to the safety and security of the world at large. Their isolationist policies have allowed them to develop anomalies, artifacts, and technologies that, if left unchecked, could pose an existential threat to humanity."
Gabriel had listened carefully, his unease growing with every word. It wasn't the first time the Foundation had intervened in the affairs of sovereign nations—there were countless times when anomalies had to be contained, regardless of borders. But this felt different. It felt like they were preparing for war.
"This mission will be nothing like the ones you are used to, but I assure you, it is just as important, the mission is sanctioned by the O5 Council, the Foundation is fully committed to its mission."
"You will likely find it difficult to see the meaning of this task, but I assure you, it has to be done. Wakanda is a threat, and all threats must be eliminated!" The man had said, sending a wave of cold shivers down everyone's spine.
"But remember," the official added, his tone hardening, "this mission is classified. The world cannot know that the Foundation has taken action here. You will be led by one of our most experienced operatives, someone who understands the importance of this assignment: Napoleon Bonaparte."
That announcement sent a ripple of shock through the room. The Napoleon Bonaparte. The legendary tactician who had, once almost conquered all of Europe, the Emperor of France, and someone who should be long dead.
There had always been rumors of such people, relics from the past, being alive within the Foundation, but it was always kept a secret, so for this to be announced, confirmed like this was shocking.
A week later, Gabriel found himself on a transport aircraft, where he was soon offloaded again, only to find himself on a massive field, surrounded by a massive army, only now did he fully understand the share scale of this task.
One hundred thousand people, all in the newest gear the Foundation had to offer. Gabriel had assumed that only a few units like his own had been given those suits and training in them, but now he quickly realized that he was very wrong.
Gabriel Dawson stood with his ten-person team as they disembarked from the transport aircraft, the atmosphere heavy with tension. They were clad in the most advanced armor the Foundation had ever developed, suits that enhanced their strength, speed, and reflexes, making them walking tanks on the battlefield. The armor felt unnatural to Gabriel, more machine than man, and that only added to his growing sense of unease.
"Well, here we are," muttered Rodriguez, one of the more seasoned members of the team. He adjusted the helmet of his suit, his voice filtered through the comms. "Fighting against a country instead of some spooky anomaly this time. Never thought I'd see the day."
Gabriel nodded, scanning the horizon. He could see the shining towers of Wakanda in the distance, their vibranium-clad surfaces reflecting the morning light. The contrast was jarring: on one side, the technological marvel of Wakanda, and on the other, the cold, ruthless efficiency of the Foundation's military apparatus.
"You ever think this isn't what we signed up for?" Gabriel asked quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
"No kidding," replied Carter, their team's sniper. "But orders are orders, right? Can't start questioning them now."
Gabriel clenched his fists inside his armor, feeling the servos whirr in response. "Yeah, but… these people, they're not like the anomalies we're used to. They're human. They've got families, lives, and they're just trying to protect what's theirs."
"Gabriel," Rodriguez interjected, his tone serious, "you know damn well that if the Foundation says something is a threat, then it's a threat. Maybe we don't have the full picture, but we've seen enough to know that sometimes, you've got to do things that seem wrong to protect the bigger picture."
Gabriel fell silent, unable to shake the image of Wakandan civilians he knew they'd encounter, the people they'd inevitably be forced to fight. But as he remembered the news about SCP-499, he felt a bit better.
He didn't know much about the SCP, other then it was important, very very important. So important that General Napoleon had diverted a full tenth of the army towards the object.
Clearly those who knew about it realized that it was highly dangerous, which did mean that this mission had likely already saved the world, even if at the cost of a lot of innocent lives.
A/N
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