Scp-011 Novels & Stories

“Run Or become the weapon.” Aurora grabbed Lila. “We’re not running.” She turned to the pods there were lots of them, each of them labeled with a date and a name in her mother’s handwriting, spidery and precise. Subject 001: Failure – 1998 Subject 002: Unstable – 2001 Subject 003: Aurora – 2003

Having attended my whole life, I could basically do everything in my sleep. As the service was wrapping up, I was surprised when Bernard called Blake to the podium for an announcement. I sat up and was further shocked to see that someone else was following him to the front of the congregation—someone just as tall and muscular as him, someone with intense amber eyes. It was him—the guy from the fortune-telling shop. The guy who I thought I'd dreamed about the prior night.

No orders — just motion. “Where did you find that tag?” Evelyn asked. Rhea sat beside her, the firelight flickering across her scarred cheek. “I didn’t,” she said. “You did. That’s why we came.” Evelyn frowned. “What are you talking about?” “You screamed. Three days ago, from somewhere near Hollowmere. Like your bones remembered something your mind doesn’t. That kind of scream carries.” She looked over at Evelyn, steady and unblinking. “We’ve been tracking the ones they called ‘control-class.’ You were E-113. S-019 was the one they couldn’t contain.”

"Sasha found him, killed execution style, with a note pinned to his chest that read 'You're Next'." I reached over and gently squeezed Elias's hand, still rubbing Xander's arm. "I'm so sorry." My head snapped up toward Xander. "Nightshade?" Xander nodded. "I'm afraid so." "But we caught Deven," I reasoned, a crease forming between my eyes. "What did he say?" Xander stood and walked over to the broad picture window as he spoke. "Deven was a member of Nightshade. But now it's evident that he's not the only one who infiltrated us."

*Test subjects. Aleksandr stepped forward, studying the nearest chamber. The label read: SUBJECT 017 – STATUS: ACTIVE Suddenly, the figure’s eyes snapped open. A sharp alarm blared through the lab. Elena’s heart pounded. “We need to move, now.” Hydra’s Trap Above ground, Dante and Luca had infiltrated the facility’s control center. Screens flickered with security feeds—guards mobilizing, alarms flashing red. Luca swore. “They knew we were coming.”

Get to know her before I unalive her guard dogs. First thing first, though. I need to locate where the fifth C.H.A.O.S. member is. Oscar isn’t someone I can underestimate. He is the most deadly of the bunch, with him being a psychopath with training and connections. I’ll have to take him out first. Because if I don’t, I’ll lose my head just like my big brother did, god rest his soul.

A woman stepped out. Tall. Dark coat. Gloves. Sharp eyes behind thin glasses. No uniform. No badge. But everyone felt authority radiating from her. Lena’s heart stuttered. Alexander’s jaw clenched. Elias stiffened. Jay flinched. Z-04’s lights flickered. “Recognized. Affiliated with Kass Laboratories. Designation: Internal Control Operative.” The woman adjusted her glasses calmly as she took them all in. Her gaze stopped on Z-03.

All of them had white hair. "They were trying to clone you," Leo whispered, horrified. "They were trying to replicate the royal line." At the very end of the hall was a pod glowing with an intense blue light. The name on the monitor read: ASTRA. SUBJECT 001. I touched the glass. The girl inside looked no older than sixteen. Her eyes snapped open—they weren't gold. They were a piercing, frozen blue. The glass shattered before I could even pull my hand away.

It led her to a locked steel door. Behind it, a cold chamber hummed with quiet power. She stepped inside. And froze. At the center of the room, floating inside a cryo-stasis tank, was a man. Tall. Pale. With circuitry etched across his bare chest. Subject 01: Kael Prototype. The moment she approached, his eyes snapped open. Alma staggered back. Julian burst in behind her, weapon drawn. “Who the hell is that?” he asked. The chamber began to shake. Lights flickered.

The screen finally decrypted a heading in bold red: PROJECT ORIGIN: CLASSIFIED – MONTROSE CREST ALLIANCE INITIATIVE. And below it: SUBJECT: E-0. STATUS: ACTIVE. SURVIVOR. Elena’s breath caught. Her photo appeared on the screen. Six years old. Eyes too large for her face. A number stamped on the lower corner. E-0. She scrolled. “Genetic compatibility confirmed. Emotional resilience score: 92nd percentile. Neural growth accelerated. Memory suppression: effective post-fire trauma. Recommend continued surveillance under parental guardianship imprint.”