America had finally entered the war.
From the outside, it looked like politics, speeches, flags, and promises. From our side of the table, it was numbers—materials, logistics, production capacity, and money. A lot of money. And most of it flowed through one man.
Lincoln.
To the public, he was a rising political figure—sharp, generous, influential beyond his apparent years. To us, he was an asset that had been in play longer than most governments currently standing. SCP-006 ensured that time barely touched him, and when it threatened to become inconvenient, he simply vanished.
Twenty years here.A new name there.Another government. Another rise to power.
His anomalous adaptability made it effortless. Physical appearance, race, gender—fluid variables he adjusted like a tailored suit. History never noticed the pattern. The Foundation made sure of that.
Tonight, he sat across from us, calm and composed, fingers interlaced as if this were just another political briefing rather than a discussion that could reshape the future.
"The funding will be justified," Lincoln said smoothly. "War bonds, industrial incentives, humanitarian framing. America will pour resources into the Allied effort—and I will make certain the right people remember who made it possible."
Political favors. Influence. Access.
Exactly as planned.
The conversation shifted, inevitably, to the real subject.
Steve Rogers.
Captain America—though not yet.
Files were projected across the table. Medical evaluations. Psychological profiles. Surveillance summaries compiled by embedded Foundation operatives. Weak body. Strong will. Unshakeable moral center. The kind of person anomalies gravitated toward, whether we liked it or not.
"We could stop it," one of us said flatly. "Redirect the serum. Delay the project. Terminate the candidate."
True. Easy, even.
I leaned back slightly, arms crossed. "And change the future."
Silence followed that.
Steve Rogers wasn't just a soldier. He was a pivot point. A constant across timelines we'd analyzed, realities we'd cataloged, and scenarios we'd simulated. Remove him, and history didn't improve—it destabilized.
Hydra benefited.Chaos accelerated.Certain anomalies emerged earlier… and worse.
"We already have eyes on him," Lincoln said. "Foundation assets embedded in the project. Medical staff, administrative oversight, military liaisons. If he deviates, we intervene."
A pause.
"If not," he continued, "we let history proceed."
We reached consensus quickly.
Steve Rogers would receive the Super Soldier Serum.
For now.
Not because we trusted the world—but because we understood it. Because sometimes containment didn't mean prevention. Sometimes it meant guidance.
I glanced at the final note on the file: Potential future asset. High probability of moral resistance to anomalous corruption.
Rare. Valuable.
Hydra would come for him eventually. Of that, there was no doubt.
And when they did?
We would already be watching.