Scp-011 Novels & Stories

Her eyes were open—but she didn’t seem to see us. “Oh my god,” Lena breathed. I stepped closer, heart pounding. This wasn’t just some prisoner—--she was a prototype. Subject Zero-One: initiated in Project Echo. I’d read her file once—years ago. She had vanished and been declared deceased because it seems like she wasn't dead. They had just buried her underground. I approached the interface terminal. Most systems were locked, encrypted behind layers of firewalls but one button blinked dimly: Initiate Transfer Protocol. “They were trying to move her,” I muttered. “Somewhere off-grid. Before we got here.”

Each one filled with a liquid the color of bone. And inside... I stepped closer. My blood turned cold. Faces. Not just any faces. Mine. Younger. Older. Modified. Broken. Each one labeled: Subject A01 Subject A02 Subject A07 - Prime And beneath it, the words: Cloning Viable. Transfer Pending. The tanks began to hiss. One by one, the seals started to disengage. — —Sophia’s POV The outer corridor was colder than I expected. My boots slid across black ice as I moved, fast, careful not to jostle Irene.

I almost lost control today in her apartment and if she saw the brutality I was capable of when I had no control Dea would fear me till the day she drew her last breath. "That complicates things. I'm sure we can find a way to scare him. We could always use the little bloodsucker. I'm sure he and Lilith wouldn't mind some fresh, hot blood," Quade chuckled at his morbid idea and, even I had to admit, it was a good plan, "you do remember who they are?" "I remember," I admitted, "I've worked with each one of the council members individually to have slight memories of them so Sydney wasn't around all the time."

"It was a Lure. The Scrap-Lords weren't the real threat." Suddenly, every data-cell in the Origin Tower turned a Blinding, Sterile White. A voice—cold, digital, and infinitely more powerful than the White Wolf—echoed through the minds of everyone in the Sovereign Valley. "Sovereign-Subject 1.0 identified. Error detected in 'Biological-Integration'. Initiating 'Remote-Recall' of the Alpha-Soul." Elara’s body suddenly went rigid. Her golden eyes turned a terrifying, blank white. "Julian... help..." she gasped.

“Explain. Fast.” Noa didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Sabine didn’t create me from scratch. She patterned me. My mind, my body, everything she built into me was based on someone who came before. An experiment she didn’t fully control. She called it ‘the prototype’ in some of her files. I always thought that meant me.” “But it was him,” Alessio muttered. “Yeah.” Ivy’s fingers flew across her keyboard. “Got something. His ID tag buried in the network logs Project Subject: 0000. Codename: GHOST.”

, Jessica whispered fiercely. "Not while I'm breathing". They ran deeper down the corridor. Lights flickered overhead. Jessica felt a vibration under her feet like the whole facility shifting, adjusting, closing around them. A voice crackled overhead. Cold. Mechanical. Too calm. "Subject A-01 located. Subject J-100 retrieval initiated. Activate containment protocol". Jessica froze. Subject J-00. Her. Romeo's voice came through the closing door behind them a shout, a gunshot, then metal slamming.

Eleanor was completely stripped of her mind, but as her trembling hand slipped off the armrest, an automated dead-man's switch hidden beneath the desk abruptly clicked upward. The entire command center bathed in a flashing, apocalyptic red light. "Sovereign protocol compromised," a sterile, automated female voice announced over the facility's intercom. "Initiating purge. Releasing Subject Zero from Sub-Level Containment." From the shadows of the far corridor, the heavy, agonizing scrape of metal chains dragging against the tile floor began to echo closer.

"Sophia, these aren't just medical samples. This is a standing army of hollow men. A harvest ready for the reaping." At the dead center of the vaulted hall, they discovered the grim source of the empire’s power: Subject Zero-Prime. He was a withered, parchment-skinned man, ancient beyond reckoning, suspended in a massive cylindrical tank of glowing, neon-gold neural-gel. His skull was a thicket of a thousand fiber-optic cables, his brain pulsing with a frantic, artificial light. He had been kept in a state of perpetual, conscious agony for over fifty years—the original, tortured mind from which every "Shadow Protocol" and neural-mapping algorithm had been bled. He was the battery for a globa

“I don’t want to. But it’s the only way out. If we resist, we’ll be hunted forever. If we cooperate, maybe we can negotiate.” The warehouse doors opened. Six agents from the Supernatural Department entered, all wearing dark uniforms with the Department’s symbol, a scale over a sword. They carried weapons that glowed with blue runes, and their faces were serious, professional. “Incubus Mortyss.” called the leader, a tall man with graying hair and tired eyes. “You are under arrest for the murder of six members of the Shadow Council. And you, Lilim Evelyn, are detained as a witness and accomplice.”

Then the light turned green, and the door slid open with a hiss. Inside was a small, sterile room filled with monitors still humming faintly on backup power. A single terminal blinked with an open message. WELCOME BACK, SUBJECT E-01. Isabella’s breath caught. “It recognizes me…” She approached the terminal and hesitated before typing: ACCESS FILES. The screen responded: AUTHORIZED. DISPLAYING PERSONAL RECORD. Alexander came closer. Together they read: > SUBJECT: ECHELON-01 Genetic model optimized for memory transfer and adaptive cognition. Host origin: Classified.