You Call Him Just a Doctor? This Guy Is So Strong!
James picked up the phone, and O5-10's calm, measured voice echoed through the receiver.
"O5-5 will bring Agent Frederick to finish the final stage of work. I hope you can make some progress before then."
Before James could reply, O5-10 added in a dry, almost dismissive tone:
"Oh, and don't worry—idiots like Dr. Tama will not appear again. From now on, you are the one in charge of SCP-3143."
"Understood," James said simply.
"It's up to you now, Doctor."
The line went dead with a click.
Across the table, August stared at James expectantly. "What do you mean by that?"
James calmly handed the phone over, then picked up the stack of interview records lying in front of him. His voice was level, but the weight behind it was undeniable.
"I'm in charge now."
August straightened, eyes widening. "You have the final say, Doctor."
It was obvious to both of them—O5-10 had just given James the highest level of authority and freedom for this project. But with that freedom came the crushing weight of responsibility. The eyes of the Foundation were on him.
Meanwhile, in the Marvel world, the live broadcast audience buzzed with curiosity. Everyone wanted to know how James would handle a "lower narrative" entity like Murphy—a fictional detective who existed only within the layers of story itself.
The broadcast screen flickered and went dark. After several tense seconds, the image returned, but it wasn't the sterile fluorescent glow of a Foundation site anymore.
Instead, the audience was staring into a world sketched by harsh, jagged lines, as if drawn by a rough pencil.
---
Inside the Detective Agency
The camera panned across an office door:
[INT. Murphy Detective Agency]
Murphy sat behind his desk, wearing a white shirt with a black trench coat hanging loosely off his shoulders. A heavy .44 Magnum rested in a holster under his arm. His posture was relaxed, leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other. A cigarette dangled between his lips, smoke curling upward as he half-heartedly read a newspaper.
The quiet was broken when the door creaked open.
The Marvel audience gasped collectively when the figure that stepped inside was none other than James himself.
"What? James?!" someone shouted in the chat.
"Oh my god—he's been pulled into the lower narrative too!"
"No way… doesn't that put him in danger?!"
Even S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were in disarray.
Natasha frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Could Murphy have dragged him in here?"
Nick Fury almost agreed—but then he caught Murphy's startled expression on screen and immediately dismissed the idea.
Murphy lowered the newspaper slowly, his eyes narrowing at James.
A gravelly narration echoed through the scene, as if the world itself were alive.
[Narrator: The Foundation's people are usually geeks tied to their desks. But this man? This one was different.]
Murphy's cigarette trembled slightly as recognition flashed in his eyes.
"…I've seen you," he muttered. "Back at the Foundation. Outside that interview room."
The narration followed with a dry chuckle:
[Narrator: A mysterious man had just walked into my office. And for the first time in a long time, I felt… wary.]
James sat across from Murphy as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Hello, Murphy."
Murphy inhaled smoke, exhaled a cloud, and tried to mask his unease with false calm.
"So, like everyone else, Doc… you need my help?"
James's voice was steady. "I do. I need your help with something only you can handle."
Murphy tapped ash into an old tray. "I'm listening."
"I'm with the Foundation," James said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the bottle on the desk. "And my problem is simple: an object has slipped out of our control."
Murphy froze. His pupils shrank in alarm.
[Narrator: Damn it. This wasn't just some simple missing person. This was trouble.]
Murphy stared at James, his tone sharpening. "The Foundation has no right to strip any being of its freedom. You know that."
James didn't argue. Instead, he poured Murphy a glass of whiskey, slid it across the desk, and raised his own.
"You're not the type to avoid trouble, Murphy," he said evenly. "You're the type who would track trouble down, sit it across the table, and buy it a drink."
The narration clicked again:
[Narrator: …Well, what do you know? This guy understands me better than I thought.]
Murphy downed the whiskey in one gulp, his lips curling into a reluctant grin. "Alright, Doc. You want me to help you chase down this runaway containment?"
James shook his head.
"No. The Foundation does want to contain anomalies… but this time, I'm the one making the plan."
Murphy blinked, surprised.
"I want you to keep being a detective," James explained, leaning forward slightly. "Only this time, it won't just be any detective life. It'll be… more exciting."
The narration grew uneasy:
[Narrator: Can I trust this guy? Honestly, I don't know. But if I fought him right now… I think I'd lose.]
Murphy stood, looking down at James. But despite the angle, he couldn't shake the feeling that James somehow towered over him.
[Narrator: This guy… he's strong. Too strong.]
---
Reactions Beyond the Narrative
The Marvel live broadcast erupted.
"What the hell? Strong? James is just a researcher!"
"No way, is he hiding some kind of power?"
"Wait—Murphy's actually taking him seriously?!"
Even Natasha was laughing. "Ha! If Murphy knew James was just a lab rat, he'd never talk to him like this."
But Nick Fury wasn't laughing. His smile faltered. His gut twisted.
What if James wasn't bluffing at all?
He thought back. SCP-3396. The Antimemetics Division. SCP-239. SCP-166. Each time, James had achieved results that no normal researcher could have managed.
Fury clenched his jaw. For the first time, he wondered—do I even know who James really is?
---
The Sunset Meeting
The scene shifted to a pier at dusk. James and Murphy stood side by side, gazing at the glowing horizon.
Two sleek black cars pulled up behind them. A dozen agents in suits stepped out, escorting a frail old woman leaning on a cane.
Her presence commanded immediate respect.
[Narrator: This woman is O5-5. That's all we can say. Anything more, and you wouldn't live long enough to hear it.]
Her bodyguard trailed close—Agent Frederick, stern as iron, his hand never straying far from his firearm.
O5-5's voice was warm, unexpectedly gentle. "Dr. James, it's an honor to finally meet you."
James bowed politely.
She turned her gaze toward Murphy. "You've done good work these past years, Mr. Murphy."
The words referred to Site-95's containment breach long ago, but Murphy merely nodded, expression unreadable.
When she offered him a cigarette, Murphy casually plucked it from her lips and tucked it behind his ear. Frederick bristled instantly, hand on his gun, but O5-5 stopped him with a calm wave.
"This man knows how to find me," Murphy said, nodding at James. "That's all you need."
O5-5's eyes softened. "Then that's good enough."
As Murphy vanished into the mist, Frederick snapped. "We can't let him walk away! He's an anomaly—he must be contained!"
O5-5 only shook her head. "Forget it, Fred. This is Chinatown. Besides… Dr. James has already done his job."
James's voice carried quietly, but firmly: "The Foundation doesn't just need control. It needs allies with a sense of justice. And Murphy… agreed."
The broadcast froze on Murphy's silhouette fading into the fog.
---
Aftermath
The audience exploded.
"Wait—did Murphy just join the Foundation?"
"Holy crap, James actually convinced him?!"
"This is insane! They have a narrative-level ally now!"
S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were equally stunned. Natasha shook her head. "Murphy's never trusted the Foundation. Why now? What did James say to him that changed everything?"
Nick Fury didn't answer. His eyes stayed glued to the darkened screen, his face hardening with a thought he didn't dare voice.
Was James still just a researcher? Or had the world completely underestimated him?
Meanwhile, at Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One folded her hands. Her expression was thoughtful, almost troubled.
Yes, some SCP entities had aided the Foundation before—SCP-105, SCP-073, SCP-076-2. But they were either unstable, limited, or dangerous allies.
Murphy was different. Upright. Powerful. And now… aligned.
For the first time, the Ancient One considered a new possibility.
"Perhaps," she whispered, "enemies can be turned into friends. Perhaps even the Outer Gods can be…"
Her voice trailed off into the silence.
The Marvel world had just shifted again—and James was at the center of it.
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