When the next scene appeared in the sky, the entire Marvel Universe froze for a mont.
Boom!!!
A collective gasp echoed across every corner of the world—superheroes, civilians, and cosmic beings alike stared up in stunned disbelief.
Wasn't Jas already confird dead in his previous life? Why was another mory 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 an, yeah, the guy's pretty aweso, but didn't he die? I thought these flashbacks were just mories!
[Tony Stark]: Don't look at . I have no clue what's happening. But honestly? I'd rather watch Jas 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.
Excitent began building throughout the Marvel Universe.
It wasn't just Tony—millions of people had beco captivated by the eerie, enigmatic world of the SCP Foundation. Now, knowing that Jas's story hadn't ended with the D-Class missions, everyone found themselves unable to look away.
However, that excitent was tinged with anxiety.
The missions Jas 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 Jas had been curiosity and admiration. But now, they had transford into full-blown respect. Ruffling his own hair, Peter Parker finally blurted out the question everyone was wondering:
"Uh… Jas, what's going on? I an, logically, shouldn't your mory have ended with your death?"
Jas rely 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 mber 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 Jas 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 Jas's second mory 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 ca through—a deep, commanding voice echoed from the speakers:
"You are all agents selected from various departnts, 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 soone. Jas.
And sure enough—
"Report! Mid-level Agent Jas 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, handso yet hard.
Those eyes—calm, unwavering, resolute.
It was him.
Jas.
The chat rooms exploded.
"WHAT? IS THIS A GHOST?!"
"He's back?! But the Foundation declared him dead already!"
"Is this so 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 sa."
Nick Fury, however, was smiling—sothing very rare for him. "Maybe," he said, "but for us? He's Jas. That's enough."
Natasha opened her mouth to say sothing but instead sighed. "You're right."
Kamar-Taj.
The apprentices were ecstatic. Cheering echoed through the mystical hallways as they watched Jas stand tall on the screen.
He wasn't a wizard.
He wasn't a mutant.
He wasn't a god.
But to them? Jas was a hero.
The Ancient One, watching silently from her chamber, narrowed her eyes. She could tell—his soul was still the sa. Whatever path he was walking, he hadn't strayed.
Back on the screen, Jas quietly joined the rest of the team, standing at attention.
The instructor's voice bood again:
"As of this mont, you are officially part of Mobile Task Force Epsilon-11. Code-na: Nine-Tailed Fox."
The mont that na was spoken, there was a clear shift.
So agents stiffened with pride. Others exchanged nervous glances.
Among them, a young white man standing next to Jas 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, Hamrfall."
A few others nodded in agreent. But just as many rolled their eyes or laughed outright.
"Beta-777?" soone scoffed. "Are you even a thaumaturge?"
"Yeah, bro—have you ever even faced a reality-bender?"
"Chill, I was just voicing my disappointnt!" the man protested, raising his hands in surrender. Then, realizing the tension in the room, he quickly added, "I an, 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 basents… 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 interdinsional—force. And these Mobile Task Forces? Each one probably specializes in sothing specific."
He repeated the nas slowly. "'Spear of Hecate'… 'Hamrfall'…"
"What kind of monsters require that kind of naming sche?" he muttered.
The cara on the screen slowly zood in on Jas's expression.
Even surrounded by elite soldiers, with danger looming on the horizon, he looked composed. Focused. Ready.
This wasn't the sa 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 Jas of Epsilon-11: Nine-Tailed Fox.
And his real story?
It was only just beginning.
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