The circular table at Site-01's hidden God's Blind Spot glows faintly with the ambient light of magical wards and electronic projectors. Though only O5-6, O5-7, and O5-13 are physically present, the rest of the council—myself included—are projected here through a combination of magic, anomalous projection, and secure video interfaces. From my vantage point, floating in soul-projection form from the Wanderer's Library, I can feel the hum of mana in my veins—the Castoria template within me amplifying every ounce of magical energy, every flicker of thought, every projection of will.
This meeting isn't about paperwork. It isn't about ethics or diplomacy. This is about vibranium, Wauconda's untapped veins, and the near-mythical barrier technology the country has developed. With a single vein of that metal, with their protective shielding tech, we could encase our most dangerous SCPs in near-impenetrable vaults. Containment that even the most aggressive anomalous attacks wouldn't breach.
I sit at the head of the table, my presence commanding attention despite being projected. To my left, Julius leans casually, his face serene, betraying none of the mental calculations and preparations always ticking behind his calm demeanor. On my right, Alex—O5-13, the Collector—remains cloaked in shadows, their fingers idly summoning holographic models of Wauconda's barrier networks and veins of vibranium, twirling them in midair with supernatural precision.
Everyone else is projected, voices layered over the table in perfect clarity. Some bring arguments. Some bring objections. Some simply observe, letting their minds run the calculations while they remain silent.
O5-6 speaks first, their voice cold and deliberate. "Taking Wauconda outright will trigger international scrutiny. Even if we act covertly, the nation has defenses that could… complicate things. And vibranium isn't just a resource—it's a geopolitical flashpoint."
I nod slightly, acknowledging their point without conceding. "I'm aware," I respond, voice smooth, unflappable. "But we've managed worse. Consider what we've done with SCP-006, SCP-076, SCP-173… Wauconda is no more than a strategic target. We already have small quantities of vibranium—we've built formidable tech with it. Imagine the applications with full access."
Julius, calm as always, interjects. "The barrier technology is key. Invisible, nearly indestructible, resistant to standard anomalous attacks. It would allow us to contain SCPs that otherwise require multi-site deployment. It's containment efficiency on a global scale. And we can build facilities hidden in plain sight."
O5-7, The Brain, a floating jar with pulsating cerebral waves, emits a series of modulated signals, translated into speech via the interface. "Strategically, a direct takeover ensures uninterrupted access. Negotiation leaves vulnerabilities. War is messy, yes, but a controlled, surgical operation—calculated precisely—maximizes gain while minimizing exposure. Probability of success: 87.4% under optimal conditions."
O5-13, shadowed and ethereal, floats an orb over the table. Within it, holographic representations of Wauconda's urban layout, key military installations, and veins of vibranium rotate slowly. "Their defenses," they whisper, voice modulated to a near-unearthly tone, "are formidable but not insurmountable. With enough precise force and shielding from our anomalies, even their strongest barriers will be neutralized or absorbed into our containment schema. The vibranium itself can augment our magical constructs."
Some of the other council members, projected as translucent forms, voice objections through overlapping transmissions. "Too risky. Politics. International scrutiny.""No. We must negotiate first.""Collateral? Ethical considerations?"
I let them speak, letting the objections hang in the magical air of the blind spot. Then I lean forward slightly, channeling mana to stabilize my projection and sharpen my voice. "We don't negotiate with nations when what we need is their resources and their technology. We cannot allow ethics to dictate strategy here. The Foundation's mandate is containment and protection of humanity. If a nation stands in the way of that goal, we act decisively. Julius, I assume we're aligned?"
His hand brushes over a projected console, running tactical simulations that flicker across the table. "We're aligned. Precision strikes, magical projections, containment fields pre-deployed—this is feasible."
O5-6's expression hardens. "And the civilian population?"
I shrug, feeling the surge of mana from Castoria within me. "Collateral is inevitable in any operation of this scale. But our primary concern is containment and technological superiority. If we control Wauconda, we can shield civilians with invisible barriers, evacuate strategically, and minimize unnecessary loss. The tech itself allows for selective protection."
O5-7's voice, clinical and detached, adds, "With our pre-positioned SCP assets, we can reinforce barriers in real-time. Probability of population casualties—minimized. Probability of complete technological acquisition—maximized."
I glance at Alex. "You'll coordinate the technological integration once we secure the country?"
Their shadowed head inclines. "Already accounted for. The barrier materials, vibranium deposits, and any weaponized tech will be analyzed, duplicated, and incorporated into Foundation containment protocols. All while preserving our existing SCP storage."
I breathe in, feeling the pulse of magical energy inside me, the heartbeat of Avalon synchronizing with my own. This is more than a mission. This is a statement of power, of control, of dominance. A single step to secure humanity's safety—our vision—by any means necessary.
Julius leans closer. "We deploy assets quietly. Shadow projections, portable magical wards, and Foundation strike teams. We coordinate with your new magical capacity. You're… stronger than ever. Your abilities now allow direct intervention in real time, even at multiple locations."
I smirk faintly. "That's why I acquired the Castoria template. Noble Phantasm loops, massive NP generation, party-wide invulnerability. With my enhancements, we can act faster than any defensive response they have."
O5-13 floats another holographic layer above the table, this time depicting Wauconda's power grid, military response times, and barrier network overlaps. "Timing is everything. We strike when vulnerabilities overlap, neutralize their shielding, and secure the vibranium deposits. Our systems allow instant extraction and containment. No delay, no error margin. And all while maintaining Foundation secrecy."
I lean back in my projection, feeling the familiar calm that comes from decades of planning, enhanced now by the foresight of Castoria and the knowledge absorbed from countless lifetimes. "Then it's settled," I say finally. "We take it over. Negotiation is a risk we don't need. Direct action ensures maximum gain. Julius, O5-7, coordinate logistics. Alex, coordinate technological analysis and barrier integration. O5-6, keep a watchful eye on collateral, and ensure evacuation zones are mapped. All others will support remotely."
Julius nods, serene as always. "Already in motion."
I feel the pulse of magical energy again, stronger than ever, as if Avalon itself has affirmed my decision. The table—physical and magical—feels alive beneath my projection, reflecting the pulse of the council, the heartbeat of strategy, the unyielding march of inevitable dominance.
In this room, in this moment, there is no doubt, no hesitation. There is only power, planning, and the absolute certainty that humanity's future will be secured—even if the world itself does not know the hand that guides it.
And as the discussion moves toward the finer points of deployment—barrier integration, vibranium extraction, tactical strike teams—I know that with my new abilities, my enhanced magical capacity, and the council's collective genius, nothing can stand in our way.
Avalon hums within me, a quiet, infinite heartbeat. The Child of Prophecy is awake. And Wauconda—its vibranium, its barriers, its secrets—will be ours.