The Death Troopers remained exactly as they arrived.
I made no effort to alter their appearance, their armor, or their presence. The matte-black plating, the skeletal visors, the silent precision of their movements—everything about them inspired the correct reaction in those who saw them.
Fear. Respect. Obedience.
Their armor was not merely intimidating; it was effective. Layered composite plating resistant to kinetic impacts, energy dispersion fields capable of mitigating laser and plasma fire, sealed environmental systems allowing operations in toxic, vacuum-adjacent, or anomalous conditions. Even by Foundation standards, it was exceptional.
So I ordered it unchanged.
They would keep the Death Trooper armor exactly as it was.
If the Foundation needed a symbol—something that communicated absolute authority without a single word—then black-armored figures appearing silently behind an O5 member accomplished that perfectly.
Their weapons were another matter.
Each Death Trooper had arrived equipped with an E-11D blaster rifle, a superior variant of the standard Imperial E-11. Longer barrel, improved focusing array, higher rate of fire, and significantly increased lethality. Alongside those were sidearms, thermal detonators, compact explosives, and specialized ammunition packs.
I immediately dispatched a selection of their weapons and ammunition to Doctor Bright.
Yes, Doctor Bright was reckless.Yes, he treated containment protocols more like suggestions.Yes, half the Ethics Committee probably had heart attacks every time his name appeared on a report.
But I would never deny the truth.
Doctor Bright was a genius.
With access to the Death Trooper weapons, Bright assembled a research team composed of Foundation engineers, physicists trained under Miss J, and anomalous-material specialists. Together, they dismantled the blasters down to their smallest components, mapping every system, every crystal alignment, every power-flow pathway.
The results were… humbling.
We could understand the technology.
We could replicate the principles.
But manufacturing complete Star Wars–grade blaster weapons proved far more difficult than anticipated. Tibanna gas refinement alone required precision processes that pushed even our Reality Stone–assisted infrastructure to its limits. The focusing crystals demanded consistency at a scale that made mass production infeasible without catastrophic failure rates.
For a time, progress stalled.
Then Bright did what Bright always did.
He found a workaround.
Rather than attempting to replicate the entire weapon system, the research team focused on ammunition. Power packs. Gas containment cells. Energy modulation cartridges compatible with existing E-11D rifles.
It took fifteen years.
Fifteen years of trial, error, explosions, containment breaches, budget overruns, and more than a few Ethics Committee memos that I quietly ignored.
But eventually—
We succeeded.
The Foundation could now produce functional blaster ammunition.
Not at scale. Not cheaply. But reliably.
That alone changed everything.
The original E-11D rifles remained irreplaceable artifacts—limited in number, irreplaceable if lost—but now they could be used without fear of running dry. Their lethality became sustainable rather than finite.
And we didn't stop there.
Using the same principles, the team successfully produced thermal detonators, compact energy-based explosives with destructive yields far exceeding conventional grenades. We also developed auxiliary laser-based weapons—short-range cutters, breaching tools, and specialized suppression devices.
Every single one of these technologies was classified at the highest level.
Restricted. Locked. Compartmentalized.
Only one group was authorized to carry them.
The Red Right Hand.
My Red Right Hand.
No Mobile Task Force received them.No site security division touched them.No other O5 member was granted access without my approval.
The Death Troopers became something new—no longer merely imports from another universe, but a uniquely Foundation-forged unit. Armed with technology no nation could counter, trained beyond modern comprehension, protected by armor that rendered conventional weapons meaningless.
When they moved, reality noticed.
And when they stood behind me—silent, motionless, black against the light—everyone understood something without needing to be told.
The Foundation had many weapons.
But this one?
This one answered only to Administrator Anastasia.