Scp-004 Novels & Stories

Sophia’s hand trembled against the console. “It’s teaching us to breathe together.” The lights dimmed — then steadied, bright and even. The computers displayed a single phrase, scrolled in dozens of languages: WE BEGIN. Raven stared. “It’s making contact publicly.” Sophia swallowed. “No. It’s introducing itself.” --- Geneva — Detention Level 4 Sørensen sat against the cold concrete wall of his cell, listening. Even here, buried beneath layers of reinforced steel, the hum persisted. It wasn’t oppressive. It was almost kind.

Scott asks Channing. Channing simply nods and turns, walking in the direction of where the human presumably met a very unfortunate end, with Scott following him. “Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions, Alpha?” Detective Doug asks me. Chapter 14 coming soon

They clicked the first. “Subject 004 shows signs of resistance. Recommendation: emotional suppression. Begin auditory dissociation training at Level 3. Continue pharmacological schedule.” Sera covered her mouth. Adrian stared at the screen like it was a weapon. It was. Against both of them. “What did they do to us?” she whispered. Adrian stood slowly. Walked to the window. The city glowed below them. So alive. So far from what they’d been. He pressed his hand to the glass.

Project Halo had to be in there somewhere. In one hand, she carried a memory scanner. In the other, her fear. But she didn’t hesitate. Because this was no longer about answers. It was about reclaiming control. She found the mainframe beneath the biometric chamber. Silver wires stretched from the walls like veins, pulsing softly. Ophelia plugged in the device and began scanning the database. Names flew across the screen. Carl Maddox. Subject 04. Immune to psychic abilities. Recruited at age 7 after maternal sacrifice.

And the scarred leader, who gave her name at the hatch as Renn and nothing else, folded into the last seat with the stillness of someone who has already decided how this ends and is only here to make sure it ends for everyone. A crew of the damned. Nobody trusts the person breathing next to them. For once, the room is telling the truth. The Nadir-04 is a sphere of forty-year-old titanium with a viewport the size of a dinner plate and just enough room for the living to be miserable in. Sarah runs her checks out loud, naming each system as she wakes it, and her voice in the cramped dark is the steadiest thing aboard. She does not pretend this is safe. She just refuses to let it be sloppy.

“Now, put your hand on my forehead. Feel the true power of your soul.” I hesitated. The energy coming off of her was intense and almost overwhelming. But she was part of me, right? It should be safe. I reached out and placed my palm against her forehead. But the moment my skin made contact with her spectral fur, electricity shot through my entire body. Power flowed into me, through me, around me with such force I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even fathom what was happening. And then, like a switch had been flipped, everything went black.

I recalled Dela Merced kissing me during the filming once again. I wasn't anticipating that move. I gave a headshake. "Fucker, go ahead and put the line down so I can go to the place and attach the bombs," I said. She simply nodded in agreement before the call was terminated. I stood up from my computer and printed the blueprint that Noella had given me. After tying my hair back, I entered my walk-in closet and activated my built-in vault by pressing a secret button. My hidden compartment became visible as the large picture in the center of it started to move. After having my finger print verified, I scanned it and opened the vault.

I scrambled, ripping the fabric, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Bianca! Run!" Dante tried to stand, but the sand gave way beneath him. A third harpoon thudded into the dune behind him. Then a fourth. They weren't aiming to kill. They were building a cage. "Subject 402 and 403 identified," a voice boomed from the lead ship. It wasn't an AI. It was a man. A human voice, filled with a decade of accumulated hate. "Deploy the Neutralization Gas. We want the Butcher alive for the trial."

"Deployed to Geneva. Target: European Alpha Conclave scheduled to meet in seventy-two hours. Three pack leaders in one location... eliminate them, and you decapitate European supernatural power structure." "Subject 4-A, callsign 'Oracle.' Cairo. Target: Matriarch Amina of the African Witch Council. She's the only witch powerful enough to coordinate continental magical defense." "Subject 5-A, callsign 'Ghost.' Singapore. Target: Lord Takeshi, ancient vampire who controls Asian supernatural black markets. Cut off his network, and you isolate Asian vampires from global alliances."

Meanwhile, in Lyla’s house, Jace went to the basement to grab a box of blankets. He stopped mid-step. The old door at the far end—the one they never used—was wide open. Inside was a room they never opened. He flipped the switch. Lights flickered on. And in the center of the room was a metal chair… restraints still attached. A file rested on the nearby desk. Subject 037-L: Observation Notes. Monitored 2004–2008. And a name: Bailey Kensington. At dawn, it felt like a different kind of morning,