The attack on Wakanda itself was as brutal as it was simple. They were each given a target, and then they moved towards those targets, blasting everything between them and the target, and then upon reaching the target, which for Gabiel was a small village, the slaughter began.
It wasn't pretty. While the warriors of Wakanda were skilled and their weapons advanced, they were also completely outmatched.
Their weapons were spears and swords, sure, their shields could emit an energy field to stop some attacks, but only the spears could fire lasers at range, the swords were purely melee compart weapons.
And with the entire Foundation army flying in the air, there was nothing the people on the ground could do to stop them.
Gabriel took no joy in what he did, he did it only because he knew he had to do it. This mission was to protect all of humanity, and sometimes, he enemy wasn't a monster, but a person.
He did realize that while this mission might have had the goal of ensuring the containment of SCP-499, something that was easy to understand for him at least. Any action was worth it to avoid the worst-case scenario.
And he understood that these people wouldn't understand why the Foundation did what they did, and he knew that their technology would allow them to become a threat to the Foundation if they were left alone.
That if they were to leave after securing SCP-499 then the people of Wakanda would want revenge, that they would likely be able to find the Foundation, and then attack them, releasing the horrors which the Foundation kept contained.
So, while he didn't like this, he knew his mission, and he knew better than to doubt or hesitate in the field.
As the fighting continued, or rather, the slaughter continued, he found himself drifting a bit out of formation, and at rather low altitude, a dangerous position.
As Gabriel descended lower, the sounds of battle grew louder, more visceral. He could hear the cries of Wakandan warriors, the sharp crack of energy weapons, and the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground. He hovered just above the rooftops of the village, his pulse rifle trained on anything that moved. The HUD of his helmet flickered with information—targets marked in red, friendly forces in blue, and the constant stream of orders coming through his earpiece.
"Dawson, pull back into formation," Mason's voice crackled over the comms, irritation clear in his tone. "You're too exposed down there."
Gabriel didn't respond immediately. His eyes fell on a small group of Wakandan civilians huddled together behind one of the huts, their faces pale with fear. They weren't soldiers; they weren't even armed. Just families, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could see a woman clutching a young child to her chest, her eyes wide and pleading, and for a moment, Gabriel's resolve wavered.
Yet, he quickly remembered his training, his missions, the tales of other Foundation agents, of times when they had hesitated, and good men and women had died because of it.
And so, he steeled his heart and opened fire, killing them all, men, women, children, all were shot down from up high, as if he was some kind of death god judging mortals unworthy of living.
The sound of pure energy echoed in his ears, mingling with the screams that cut off abruptly as their bodies fell to the ground, lifeless. His chest tightened, his breath catching as he watched the blood pool around them, staining the dirt beneath their feet. The child's body twitched once, and then went still, cradled in the arms of the woman who had tried to protect him.
There was no honor in this. No sense of justice. Just the cold, detached reality of what it meant to be a soldier of the Foundation.
"Dawson, report," Mason's voice crackled over the comms, snapping Gabriel back to the present. "Target neutralized?"
"Yes, sir," Gabriel replied, his voice strained. "Neutralized."
He could hear Mason's approving grunt. "Good. Now get back in formation. We've still got work to do."
Yet just as he was about to return, he paused, seeing another Wakandan man step out from around a corner, another target to be eliminated, another innocent civilian whose only crime was being born in a nation that was too advanced for its own good.
Yet as he was prepared to shoot him down, to kill the man where he stood like he had done so many others, his HUD suddenly started flashing like crazy, his weapons instantly locking up.
The Foundation's weapons were made to be used only by the Foundation, and only for the purposes the Foundation desired, he had seen this first hand, everyone had as they stood before General Napoleon.
All of them had seen in their HUDs how he was considered a protected target and that their weapons wouldn't shoot at him. He was, however, the only one, even his captain or his field commander Gabrial, could shoot.
Naturally, he wasn't going to, but it was the cold logic that underscored the Foundation, that even its own could become targets and that, for the most part, the judgment was in their own hands; only a few people were offered protection.
Which was why he was so shocked when suddenly, this man, clearly a native Wakandan, was for some reason considered a protected target.
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Jack Bright watched as the Foundation agent mercilessly shot down a family. Clearly, the people around here were their target; he didn't know what Wakanda was or what they had done to earn this level of response from the Foundation, but clearly, there was a story here.
It would, however, make making contact with the Foundation more difficult; after all, he was likely to be killed on sight.
Yet, he also had no chance of making it out of here on his own; brilliant as he might be, he knew well enough that no one could escape the relentless hunt of the Foundation, at least not a normal person without any resources like him.
And so, he decided to bite the bullet and hope that he could somehow ensure that the Foundation would find the amulet sooner rather than later, and so he stepped out from where he was hiding.
Instantly, the drone, or suited soldier, turned towards him, his hands raised, ready to fire. Jack was ready to accept it; he just hoped that the machine before him was recording and that someone on the other side would see the amulet at some point.
Yet, the fire never came, the Foundation person, thingy, never attacked, instead it just froze up there.
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Gabriel stared at the man who had stepped out from the shadows, his his pulse rifle trained on him, finger poised to pull the trigger. Yet, no matter how much he tried, the weapon wouldn't respond, as if it had suddenly decided that this particular man was off-limits. His HUD flashed with bright red warnings: "PROTECTED TARGET. DO NOT ENGAGE."
Gabriel's mind raced, struggling to understand. This wasn't possible. The Foundation didn't protect outsiders. There were only a few individuals who had that status—Napoleon being one of them, as the mission commander. No one else, especially not a Wakandan civilian, should have been marked as off-limits.
"What the hell is going on?" Gabriel muttered to himself, eyes locked on the man before him. He had a calmness about him, an eerie sense of resignation, as if he knew this was how things would play out.
"Dawson, report!" Mason's voice crackled over the comms again, but Gabriel couldn't tear his eyes away from the man. "Why aren't you taking the shot?"
"I… I can't," Gabriel replied, frustration creeping into his tone. "He's protected. The system won't let me fire."
There was a brief silence, and then, "Protected? By who?"
"I don't know, sir," Gabriel answered, his voice shaking. "But it's in the system. He's registered as a protected target."
"That's impossible," Mason barked. "No one from this place should have that designation. Get closer and confirm!"
Gabriel hesitated, then took a step forward, keeping his rifle trained on the man, who still hadn't moved. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice muffled by his helmet. "How are you protected?"
The man gave a faint, almost amused smile. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said, his voice smooth, calm, as if they weren't standing in the middle of a warzone. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't shoot me. I've had enough of that for one lifetime."
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Jack Bright quickly realized what was going on from the man's question, and he was now sure that there was a man inside that thing, an impressive piece of tech, something new as well, not what was normal back when he last had a host.
This meant it was highly likely that a long time had passed since then, which made me all the more curious. "Anyway, I would appreciate it if you could get me a lift out of here, maybe to your command center. I have some questions of my own."
A/N
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