Just look!
The screen on the glowing light curtain flickered to life, revealing a shadowy yet familiar scene—the top-secret conference room of the SCP Foundation's Overseer Council.
Four council members were seated at the long, obsidian table. Their numerical designations—One, Two, Ten, and Thirteen—were all that distinguished them. Each of their forms remained hidden in darkness, their identities completely obscured.
Standing beneath a large projector was a lone figure—James.
He was composed, calm, and unshaken, despite standing before the most powerful decision-makers in the entire Foundation. From the outside, it looked like he was giving a report, though the weight behind it felt far more personal—urgent.
The audience in the live broadcast room watching all this unfold collectively blinked in confusion.
Wasn't James, the former head of the Antimemetics Division, supposed to have been missing or forgotten?
Then what was happening here?
And then, James spoke—his very first sentence shook the entire Marvel world to its core.
"I was able to remember some things by injecting a Class X memory strengthener," he said.
There was a brief pause. James's gaze lowered, searching for the right words.
"Rather than a recollection," he finally said, "it's more accurate to say that I deduced a complete story—constructed it from scattered pieces of data that I found."
One of the shadowy figures nodded slowly.
"About Marion Wheeler, and the Antimemetics Division that may have existed?"
A doubtful voice interjected, this time from Councilor Two:
"As far as we are aware, the Foundation has never had an Antimemetics Division. And Marion Wheeler... she's just a name in archived records. No one remembers her."
"Exactly!" James replied, his voice steady and deliberate. "That's the problem. My task isn't to act as your technical consultant. It's to uncover the truth."
Councilor Two opened his mouth to speak again, but was silenced with a gesture from Councilor One.
"James," One said. "Please continue."
Without another word, James placed a small VHS tape into the projector's slot.
[Video File: Recorded on December 8, 2016]
The light dimmed slightly as the screen changed.
Now shown was a quiet, still lake. Mist clung gently to the surface of the water. A small wooden boat floated near the center of the lake, and inside it lay a frail, elderly man curled into a fetal position. He was so emaciated that he looked barely the size of a ten-year-old child.
The wind played with the last strands of his silver-white hair. The sunlight warmed his sunken cheeks. Despite the tranquility of the scene, a feeling of deep melancholy hung in the air.
Then, another figure appeared.
A middle-aged woman walked up to the boat's edge. Her features were striking only in their ordinariness—plain clothes, short brown hair, and a plastic medical kit clutched in one hand.
Marion Wheeler.
The moment she stepped into the frame, the Overseers stirred uncomfortably. They did not recognize her. Yet... some part of them did. Deep within, some buried reflex flinched.
Councilor Ten whispered, "I… don't know her… but I feel like I should."
Councilor Two nodded slowly, brow furrowed.
The broadcast continued.
"El, you can get up now," Wheeler said softly.
She rolled up her sleeves, placed the kit down, and retrieved a syringe.
The old man in the boat slowly blinked awake, confusion etched across his face. He stared at the syringe.
"Class X memory strengthener?" Councilor Two muttered aloud, recognizing it.
As if in response, a new system overlay appeared on the projector.
[System Notice]
Class X Memory Strengthening Agent
Originally developed as an anti-aging serum, it rejuvenates the body and mind up to a [DATA EXPUNGED] year threshold.
However, the effect is temporary and fades within hours.
Side effects include a sudden return of all suppressed time, leading to extreme physiological damage known as "reverse slam."
Safe use is limited to rejuvenation periods under 30 days. Exceeding 16–18 months of rollback is invariably fatal.
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Director Nick Fury slammed a fist against the table.
"Dammit! If the serum's that unstable... James could be in danger!"
On screen, James indeed appeared paler, slightly trembling. The serum was clearly taking a toll on his body.
But the memory it recovered—that was invaluable.
Back in the footage, the old man's gaze focused on Wheeler. His foggy expression cleared.
"Wheeler..." he said, recognition flooding in.
Wheeler knelt beside him, her voice gentle.
"El, you died. Surrounded by family. They cried, they mourned, and now your funeral is being prepared. But you're already gone. This moment, right now... is something else entirely."
She paused before continuing.
"When you retired from the Foundation, we did what we do with every retiree. We helped you forget. You agreed to it. We all did. The medicine took everything away—the horrors, the burdens, the secrets."
She straightened his rumpled sleeves and added softly:
"When you walked away, you believed you were a retired FBI agent. And you lived like that for years. It was what you wanted... what we all wanted for you."
The viewers began to realize the gravity of her words.
This frail old man wasn't just any retiree—he had been someone of profound importance within the Foundation.
"But you," Wheeler continued, "you agreed to something more. You agreed to remember when the time came. I've just administered a serum that reverses cellular aging. That includes the brain, El. You'll start remembering. Everything. Do you?"
The old man blinked, breathing heavily, and nodded.
"Yes..." he said faintly. "I remember..."
Wheeler smiled. "And do you remember who you are?"
There was a moment's silence.
Then he spoke with conviction.
"Dr. Lyn Patrick Marness, Foundation employee. Founder of the Antimemetics Division."
Those words hit like a bomb.
The live chat exploded. Gasps filled the conference room. Even the shadowed Overseers flinched in disbelief.
"Founder?" Councilor Two turned sharply to Ten. "Do you remember anyone by that name? Or this woman?"
Ten shook his head, visibly disturbed.
They couldn't recall either.
Yet the truth rang clear. This was no lie.
Back in S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples.
The deeper they went into this rabbit hole, the more twisted it became. Every "forgotten" name brought forth more questions, not fewer.
James, still standing in front of the projector, let the silence linger.
Then he said:
"This is the reality we live in now. One where the truth has been deliberately erased, buried by systems designed to make it vanish from not just files—but from memory itself."
"That's why I had to risk everything. Because even if everyone forgets, someone has to remember."
His eyes scanned the Overseers.
"I remember Marion Wheeler. I remember Lyn Patrick Marness. I remember the Antimemetics Division. And I remember what they tried to stop."
The camera zoomed in on his face.
Weak. Pale. But burning with conviction.
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