Sequel of Enhanced (An Avenger's FanFiction).
After her supposed "death", Andromeda Johnson awakens to a new world not far from the one she was used to. She is in a whole new, dangerous world. A world on the brink of collapse. An enemy endangers thi...
After a brutal battle that left the Alpha-9 compound nearly destroyed, Meda awakens in the comforting embrace of her partner, Nahash, aching but alive. The compound, miraculously restored through her last-ditch enchantments, becomes a haven once again, filled with warmth, camaraderie, and the scent of food instead of blood. Meda, still exhausted but resolute, delivers a broadcast to the world, issuing a powerful ultimatum to the Chaos Insurgency: surrender or be annihilated. Her words ripple across the globe, imbued with divine fury, truth, and hope for a better path forward. Soon after, the silence breaks—she is summoned to Site-21 by the O5 Council, where Eve, O5-1, offers her the fabled and long-empty seat of O5-13. This is no ceremonial gesture—it is a call to leadership, to reshape the Foundation not with fear, but with conviction and clarity. Meda accepts, stepping into history not as a weapon, but as a reckoning, a force of change. With her ascension, the era of silence ends, and the future of the Foundation begins.
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I sat there in silence for a moment longer, letting the chill of the seat settle into my bones, cold not from temperature, but from what it meant. O5-13. I was the last vote, the deadlock-breaker, the living contingency plan. And now, I was the pulse at the throat of the Foundation itself.
My fingers tapped once against the armrest. No hesitation. No doubt. "Jocasta," I said aloud, projecting my voice to the AI node wired into every piece of Foundation infrastructure. I felt the brief static thrum of her activation ripple through the Chamber—subtle but unmistakable. "Yes, Meda?" she responded, her voice as crisp and clear as ever. It echoed not from a single speaker but from everywhere at once. "Effective immediately, begin a full-mirror duplication of the Foundation's secure data repositories," I ordered. "All current and legacy files, encrypted communications, contingency plans, and Site-specific intel—copy everything. One set to the secured Alpha-9 backup node on Subnet Meda-3. The other—" I hesitated, just for a beat. This next part would raise brows. "—route to my private server under Emergency Governance Protocol Sigma-17. Encrypt it using the Black Sun algorithm and triple-key it with my genetic marker, Nahash's essence sigil, and your core key."
A silence fell over the room. Not dissent—curiosity. Wariness. The kind of hush that warned people you were doing something big. Something irreversible. "Redundancy is our spine," I continued, meeting their eyes one by one, "and I don't intend to gamble our survival on a single network spine that could be compromised. If we get hit again, I want to be holding our memory in both hands. Every secret. Every lie. Every truth. I'm not trusting fate, magic, or the illusion of 'secure servers' anymore." O5-2's brows lifted slightly. O5-9 murmured something under his breath but didn't voice opposition. Good. "Also," I added, sharper now, "lock down our primary servers. Every node. Every data farm. I want full firewall reinforcement, a run of ward-circles reactivated in every containment site, and predictive AI scanning for traffic or behavior pattern anomalies. I want the system paranoid."
