I am Scp O76/Able in Scp the copy cat

Kondraki's hand hovered over the control panel as the simulation ended. The Light Speed test had barely run for a full ten seconds, and already, alarms were blaring. Emergency lockdown protocols kicked in to stop the scenario from pushing any further. They had come dangerously close to breaching even Able's threshold.

In the room, Able dropped to one knee, breathing steadily but clearly affected. His skin was scorched in places, thin trails of smoke rising off his arms. The wound on his chest was still knitting itself together with his Absolute Immortality, but much slower than usual.

He planted his sword into the ground to support himself.

"Was that Light Speed?" he asked with a rough exhale, voice edged with genuine curiosity.

Behind the glass, one of the scientists nodded slowly. "Yes… It looks like even you still have limits."

Able chuckled, wiping blood from his mouth as he stood back up, shaky but upright. "Not ready… not yet." His golden eyes glinted with something dangerously close to excitement.

He grinned at the observation glass.

"So even with all the power I've been gifted—with my sword, my chains, my speed, my runes—I've still got a long way to go." He cracked his neck, a surge of energy returning to his limbs.

"Well then… that will be a challenge."

The room was silent. Even the machines stopped humming as if listening.

Kondraki narrowed his eyes and whispered under his breath, "He wants to reach it… He wants to surpass it."

Another scientist, visibly sweating, turned to Kondraki. "Sir… if he ever does reach that speed—"

"He'll become something beyond any SCP we've ever documented," Kondraki said flatly. "A walking singularity of death."

Back in the room, Able stared at his hand, which was still slightly shaking from the trauma. And yet, a wide, boyish grin spread across his face.

"So this is what it feels like... to train like a hero."

Later that day, Sophia was on her laptop, as she had gotten the reports about Able, from today's test, as she had sent to the 05 Council,

Sophia sat in her private office, a dimly lit chamber buried deep within Site-17. The glow from her laptop screen cast sharp reflections in her glasses as her eyes scanned the incoming encrypted message. Her fingers hesitated over the trackpad, recognizing the insignia—05-1.

She clicked it open.

FROM: O5-1

RE: Subject SCP-076-2 - "Able" - Today's Reflex and Combat Testing

"We have reviewed the footage and the data logs. Your team's findings confirm several long-held suspicions—and reveal new threats.

The subject's reflexes surpass current baseline humanoid limits by a factor of 320x. His capacity to adapt in real-time, even to Light Speed assaults, suggests an evolutionary combat instinct not found in any known organism—natural or anomalous.

And he is still growing.

Proceed with extreme caution. Increased observation is now mandatory. No further combat simulations above Mach 15 unless authorized by O5 Command.

We've also seen the footage… of the clone incident. His reaction was emotional. Unstable. This may hint at lingering trauma. Psychological intervention may be necessary—but must be discreet. Do not provoke him again.

We are not training a weapon. We are raising a storm.

– O5-1"

Sophia leaned back, exhaling slowly as she took off her glasses and rubbed her temples. She had suspected it already, but now it was official.

Able wasn't just recovering his old power—he was evolving past it.

She glanced back at the footage still playing on a loop—Able collapsing, then laughing, then smiling at the challenge.

"Raising a storm," she whispered, echoing the last line.

A storm… that might just sweep the Foundation off the map if they weren't careful.

She then sent another message; this was more for Able than anything.

From: Dr Sophia Re: About Able Progress

"With what kd everything that has been done, I would kindly like to ask if he is allowed to join that MTF. Maybe as a way to keep his ground, from what we saw in the Clone Incident, he is emotional.

It may be clear he needs to be grounded more, he is willing to work with the foundation, but if we go with the other 3 tests, he might have a violate reaction, but that is up to you all, I will be waiting for the answer"

- Dr Sophia Light.

Sophia's fingers hovered over the send button for a moment before she pressed it, her message now encrypted and en route to the O5 Council's secure inbox.

She sighed.

It wasn't just a request—it was a warning wrapped in concern. Able wasn't a monster. He was someone shaped by time, pain, loss… and now, possibly, purpose. But the Foundation wasn't exactly known for nurturing that.

He needs something to anchor him, she thought. Structure. A sense of belonging—even if it's just on the battlefield.

She stared at her screen, lost in thought for a moment before she looked toward the live feed of Able's room.

He was sitting on the floor, calm now, legs crossed, a dim light overhead casting long shadows. SCP-999 lay beside him, curled like a friendly dog, the slime's presence easing him.

Her eyes softened.

"Please," she whispered, "don't let us screw this up."

Meanwhile, someone among the council had many reactions but only one laugh; it was 05-3.

05-3 just started to write as he said to himself. "Will, this is gonna be fun".

Deep beneath the Foundation, in a secured room layered with encryption both technological and thaumaturgic, 05-3 reclined in his chair, amusement playing across his face.

The dim glow of the monitor illuminated the gleam in his eyes as he read Dr. Sophia Light's report.

He chuckled, then reached for his keyboard.

From: O5-3

Re: RE: About Able Progress

"Dr. Light, your concern is noted. Your insight is valuable. The others will debate, discuss, and deliberate as always. But personally..."

"I think throwing Able into an MTF is the best kind of chaos we've had in years. Let's see if a sword forged in wrath can cut cleanly when given a badge."

"Approve it. Provisionally. And As his Handler, keep a proper eye on him, Good Luck"

"Let the games begin."

– O5-3

He leaned back, laced his fingers behind his head, and grinned like a man who had just tossed a match onto a powder keg.

"Let's see what the dog of war does when you teach him to wear a leash."

As Sophia lay on her bed, the dim light from the hallway casting long shadows across her room, she stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"The worst that can happen…" she murmured again, almost laughing at her own words.

Images flickered in her mind—Able cleaving a clone of himself in half, surviving near light-speed reflex tests, and crushing a surveillance mic with a smirk that didn't belong on something once considered human. No, not the worst. The unpredictable.

She sighed and pulled the covers over herself, whispering one last time, "Please… don't make me regret this."

Far away, deep in his own containment chamber, Able sat on the floor, cross-legged, eyes closed. The Chains of Enkidu rested loosely on his arms like golden threads.

He suddenly opened his eyes, sharp and calm.

Dr Kondraki looked through the Video of Able, stopped and rewatched, and sighed. He got up and looked out the window.

The foundation was a weird place, and more than that said, was the thing they had in this place; out of them, he thought he had seen everything. But these last 2 days with Able had proven to him that even if he knew and thought he had seen everything this place had to offer, the Multiverse would surprise him. Will this and Dr Bright's ever-increasing list of things he is not allowed to do in the foundation.

Yet, in moments like this, he felt relaxed; after all, a whole day of work had been done, and they had made progress, and things seemed fine. It will be as fine as you can get; either way, he had to admit today was a nice change from the usual Chaos of the foundation.

Kondraki's gaze drifted to the stars beyond the window. The light hum of fluorescent bulbs, the occasional footstep in the corridor, and the constant low vibration of the Foundation's hidden infrastructure were all background noise he'd grown used to. But tonight, the silence felt... peaceful.

He chuckled to himself. "Progress and peace in the same sentence at the Foundation. Who would've thought?"

Then his mind wandered—back to the footage of Able cutting down a holographic clone of himself with clinical, almost insulted precision. The way he used the Chains of Enkidu… The cold fury in his eyes. It wasn't just power—there was experience, intent, and something else. Pain, maybe. Or purpose.

He lit a cigarette, despite regulations, and let the smoke drift lazily upward.

"If he's not one of us, he's damn close," he muttered. "And that's what makes it dangerous."

Then, his eyes fell on the folder left on his desk—marked "Project Retribution: Contingency Protocol – ABLE". He didn't open it. Not tonight.

Instead, he took a long drag, looked at the stars again, and said softly:

"Just don't make me pull the trigger, pal. You might be the first anomaly I root for."

He flicked the ash into a nearby mug labelled 'Dr. Bright's Mug – Do Not Touch Unless You Want to Be a Llama', and sat back down, letting the quiet stretch on.

Tomorrow would bring chaos. But tonight, he could pretend the world wasn't ending.

Meanwhile, in the Library, someone was going through a book; who was this person this late at night in the foundation? This was Dr Clef.

Clef just went through the book, and as he kept reading it, he heard a voice.

"Didn't expect you to be the religious Type Clef"

He looked up and saw it was Dr Gear, as they looked at each other, Gear looked at the book in Clef's hand, the Bible, or a copy of it that they found in one of the many many ancient civilizations the foundation had

Dr Gear raised an eyebrow as he spoke. "What are you trying to do?".

Clef chuckles as he planned. "Back up plans".

Gear looked at him as he spoke. "For Able".

Clef looked as he spoke. "Who else, that and I wanted to see if one of the OG Text had more information on the First Guy that got killed in Human History".

Dr Gear just looked at me as he spoke. "We are not even sure if that was one for the Original copies, and 343 refused to give us a clear answer; he always chuckled when we asked".

Clef leaned back in the creaky old library chair, fingers still resting lightly on the brittle pages of the ancient Bible. The candlelight—because, of course, the Foundation library had atmospheric candlelight for some reason—flickered across his face, casting deep shadows under his eyes.

"Yeah," Clef said with a half-smile, "but it's the only lead we've got. That, or poke 343 again and risk getting another one of his cryptic koans about 'paths chosen' and 'brother's burden.'"

Dr. Gears crossed his arms, the ever-present calm in his expression tinged with curiosity. "You think something in that old scripture is going to help?"

Clef didn't look up this time. He just tapped a line on the page. "'And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him.' He was protected. But nowhere does it say what happened to the one who was killed. No mark. No promise. Just… absence."

He flipped the page with care, eyes scanning.

"And then he came back," Clef muttered, "angrier, colder, stronger… maybe because of that absence."

Gears said nothing at first, then finally broke the silence: "You're thinking of ways to stop him. In case containment fails."

"In case he fails himself," Clef corrected. "I've seen anomalies snap for less than what he's holding back. And that clone incident? That was the first crack."

Gears moved beside him and glanced at the book. "So, what's the plan? Holy water and crosses?"

Clef smirked. "Nah. But if we're dealing with something that predates even some of the things we've locked up in this place… might as well consult the oldest surviving cheat codes."

Gears gave a rare chuckle. "You know, for someone who blew up half a site once, you're surprisingly thoughtful at times."

"Don't spread it around," Clef grinned. "I've got a reputation to maintain."

They stood in silence for a while, the candlelight dancing on old words and older questions.

Then Clef closed the book gently. "Tell Bright not to prank Able. Not yet. We don't need to see what 'God's first soldier' does when he's annoyed."

Gears gave a short nod. "Noted."

And as the lights dimmed and the library grew quiet once more, the shadows seemed just a bit deeper—waiting.

Cleft them looked as he spoke. "But I did find something".

Gear looked at him as he spoke. "What is it".

Clef looked at him as he spoke. "Will it be either about 343 (God) or about the first man, Adam? Here let me read it out to you".

"The many stars and the many plants chimed in powers, the one star-less sky glows with countless stars being born, from each of their powers of all types stared, the blood title wave that was once the universe shifted and moved across, as then starts bursting into dust and fell, the planets humbs as for the birth of a new life, multiple doors born from light came up from the ground as the body's form the door start to be made, as each Door opens it broke the chains around the door moves and got the door, as the sea started to make a new form as it made a body, as it was born, he had long black hair, and yellow eyes with fair skin, as he looked around as he saw the black void as he said one word

Creation

As it all started the big bag, the start to everything the gods the Cosmo's the everything and it started with him, the Error, as he looked around he needed a name he closed his eyes"

Dr Gear just looked at him as he spoke. "Cryptic as fuck".

Clef smirked again, that same mischievous glint in his eyes returning. "Aren't they all? Ancient texts, cosmic truths, SCP entries written in crayon by Bright—hell, even the cafeteria menu has hidden meanings now."

Gear sat down beside him, fingers steepled. "But that part... it doesn't line up with the Genesis account. Not even close. This is something else. Some older, maybe even parallel mythology."

Clef nodded, tapping the page. "Exactly. And get this—this version doesn't start with God creating light. It starts with him—this 'Error'—birthing the cosmos from a sea of blood and doors made of light. It's all metaphor, maybe, but the imagery matches some of the deep-anomaly records we've got locked under Omega-level clearance."

Gear frowned, processing. "Are you saying this 'Error' predates even 343?"

"Possibly," Clef said, tone serious now. "Or he's the same being from a different perspective. Like, we call him 343, others called him Yahweh, El, etcetera... maybe this text comes from a civilization so old we don't even have SCP designations for its ruins."

Gear narrowed his eyes. "And you think this 'Error' has something to do with Able?"

Clef leaned forward. "I think everything is connected in some twisted, cosmic spaghetti mess. Able, Cain, 343, even Adam—who, by the way, may not have been as 'first' as we thought. Maybe there was another before even him. This... 'Error.' The anomaly that triggered the first chain of creation."

Gear stood again, pacing a bit. "So what's your angle here? If this 'Error' is real, do you want to find it, contain it... or wake it up?"

Clef closed the book slowly. "I want to understand it. Because whatever it is... it might be the only thing that can stop Able if he ever loses control."

A heavy silence fell between them.

Then Gear broke it again. "Let's keep this between us for now. Sophia's already got her hands full, and if the council catches wind of this, they'll throw us into D-Class rotation faster than Bright can get banned from another site."

Clef chuckled. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He looked at the candle again, flame flickering gently, and muttered under his breath:

"Creation… huh?"

To be continued

Hope people like this Ch and give me power stone's and enjoy