When the next scene appeared in the sky, the entire Marvel Universe froze for a moment.
Boom!!!
A collective gasp echoed across every corner of the world—superheroes, civilians, and cosmic beings alike stared up in stunned disbelief.
Wasn't James already confirmed dead in his previous life? Why was another memory starting to play?
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.
All the agents stood paralyzed in shock. Even Natasha Romanoff, who had been secretly wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, found herself frozen in place, eyes locked on the screen. Nick Fury stared upwards, his face scrunched into a rare expression of confusion and concern. His brows furrowed deeply, almost forming the Chinese character "川."
Extraordinary Chat Group.
[Deadpool]: What the hell?! I mean, yeah, the guy's pretty awesome, but didn't he die? I thought these flashbacks were just memories!
[Tony Stark]: Don't look at me. I have no clue what's happening. But honestly? I'd rather watch James punch his way out of hell than watch Steve farming wheat in Kansas. Ha!
[Steve Rogers]: Real mature, Stark. Get lost.
[Natasha Romanoff]: Mobile Task Force? That's the keyword now? Wait—am I going to be part of one? No lie, I'm kind of excited.
Excitement began building throughout the Marvel Universe.
It wasn't just Tony—millions of people had become captivated by the eerie, enigmatic world of the SCP Foundation. Now, knowing that James's story hadn't ended with the D-Class missions, everyone found themselves unable to look away.
However, that excitement was tinged with anxiety.
The missions James had completed as a D-Class subject were already terrifying and deadly. Now that he was becoming part of the Foundation's Mobile Task Force, the danger level was bound to skyrocket. After all, these elite teams were known to deal with anomalies that made SCP-173 and SCP-682 look like house pets.
Future Technology Tower.
Before, Spider-Man's feelings toward James had been curiosity and admiration. But now, they had transformed into full-blown respect. Ruffling his own hair, Peter Parker finally blurted out the question everyone was wondering:
"Uh… James, what's going on? I mean, logically, shouldn't your memory have ended with your death?"
James merely smiled and shrugged.
"Ended?" he repeated, eyes twinkling. "You're kidding, right?"
He leaned back in his chair and said playfully, "You know what my system is called? SCP Foundation Member Role Playing System! Being a D-Class was just the start. The lowest tier."
He clearly wasn't planning to give away any more than that.
Even James himself didn't know exactly what was coming next. All he knew was that now that he'd ascended to the level of a Mobile Task Force agent, the anomalies he'd face would be in an entirely different league.
At this point, every single person across Earth, and even those in distant galaxies, leaned in closer—figuratively or literally.
Everyone wanted to know what James's second memory would reveal.
The screen in the sky, which had just been static, suddenly buzzed with a high-pitched whine.
Bzzzz~
A flicker. A strange, electrical noise. The previously rowdy live broadcast chat fell silent in an instant.
Eyes widened. Breaths were held. Hearts raced.
And then—just before any image came through—a deep, commanding voice echoed from the speakers:
"You are all agents selected from various departments, and this is the only reason why you were transferred to the Mobile Task Force."
"The Mobile Task Force represents the 'elite of the elite' in the Foundation…"
As the voice faded out, the picture began to stabilize.
Now, on the screen was a man wearing a jet-black Mobile Task Force training uniform. He stood firmly in front of a squad of equally stern and focused agents, delivering a speech that oozed discipline and danger.
Yet the audience wasn't focused on him.
They were looking for someone. James.
And sure enough—
"Report! Mid-level Agent James reporting for duty!"
A figure appeared at the doorway. The agents in the room—and every person watching the broadcast—snapped their heads in his direction.
The tall, imposing build.
The familiar face, handsome yet hard.
Those eyes—calm, unwavering, resolute.
It was him.
James.
The chat rooms exploded.
"WHAT? IS THIS A GHOST?!"
"He's back?! But the Foundation declared him dead already!"
"Is this some kind of resurrection or... a clone? A soul transfer? Who cares?! HE'S ALIVE!"
"YES! OUR MAN REALLY CRAWLED BACK FROM HELL!"
S.H.I.E.L.D. Command Room.
Natasha stared at the screen and frowned. "No," she muttered, "look closely. There are differences... subtle ones. But he's not exactly the same."
Nick Fury, however, was smiling—something very rare for him. "Maybe," he said, "but for us? He's James. That's enough."
Natasha opened her mouth to say something but instead sighed. "You're right."
Kamar-Taj.
The apprentices were ecstatic. Cheering echoed through the mystical hallways as they watched James stand tall on the screen.
He wasn't a wizard.
He wasn't a mutant.
He wasn't a god.
But to them? James was a hero.
The Ancient One, watching silently from her chamber, narrowed her eyes. She could tell—his soul was still the same. Whatever path he was walking, he hadn't strayed.
Back on the screen, James quietly joined the rest of the team, standing at attention.
The instructor's voice boomed again:
"As of this moment, you are officially part of Mobile Task Force Epsilon-11. Code-name: Nine-Tailed Fox."
The moment that name was spoken, there was a clear shift.
Some agents stiffened with pride. Others exchanged nervous glances.
Among them, a young white man standing next to James muttered under his breath:
"Seriously? Nine-Tailed Fox? Ugh, I applied for Beta-777—Spear of Hecate. Worst case, I was hoping for Nu-7, Hammerfall."
A few others nodded in agreement. But just as many rolled their eyes or laughed outright.
"Beta-777?" someone scoffed. "Are you even a thaumaturge?"
"Yeah, bro—have you ever even faced a reality-bender?"
"Chill, I was just voicing my disappointment!" the man protested, raising his hands in surrender. Then, realizing the tension in the room, he quickly added, "I mean, Nine-Tailed Fox is still great. Actually, it's one of the top ten units in the Foundation!"
He grinned awkwardly and added, "Combat-wise, we're not much weaker than those iron-armored 'reincarnation' squads, you know?"
Now even the live-stream viewers were wide-eyed.
"Top ten? Out of how many?"
"Did he say nearly a HUNDRED Mobile Task Force teams?"
"I thought the Foundation was a small group of researchers and creepy basements… this is military-grade stuff!"
Nick Fury, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, spoke aloud: "So the Foundation isn't just a shadowy lab. They're a global—or maybe even interdimensional—force. And these Mobile Task Forces? Each one probably specializes in something specific."
He repeated the names slowly. "'Spear of Hecate'… 'Hammerfall'…"
"What kind of monsters require that kind of naming scheme?" he muttered.
The camera on the screen slowly zoomed in on James's expression.
Even surrounded by elite soldiers, with danger looming on the horizon, he looked composed. Focused. Ready.
This wasn't the same man who once struggled as a D-Class test subject.
This was a warrior forged in the fire of anomalies and uncertainty.
This was Agent James of Epsilon-11: Nine-Tailed Fox.
And his real story?
It was only just beginning.
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