Scp-024 Novels & Stories

Once the intruder was close, Shawn opened a glass box attached to the wall and pressed a red button. Chloroform was quickly released into the living room through hidden pipes. This was to ensure that the intruder got weak or unconscious once he got to the living room. At this time though, Queen was in the living room, heading toward the door that led to the attic. She suddenly began to feel weak and dizzy. She looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. At this point, the door leading to the attic was opened. She turned to face the intruder but fell to the ground and lost consciousness.

“Come out and show yourselves! Follow the sound of my voice! Any spirit or entity that’s here with us now! You can use our energy if you need iy! Use my energy! Manifest yourself!” “That’s when you hitchhiked the ride, right?” “Yes.” The image froze on him like that, open arms and daring smirk. “That, there, was the worst mistake of my life,” said Brandon’s voiceover. They cut to Amy’s interview, a stark contrast from the dark basement to the Manor garden under the sun. In her smiling, educational way, she gave a succinct description of what scavengers are, and explained that Brandon’s invitation for entities to use his energy had compelled one to attach itself to him.

I turned the tablet toward him. On the screen was a photo of a glass incubator. Inside, a tiny, translucent shape was floating in amber fluid. PROJECT HARBINGER: SUBJECT 02. STATUS: VIABLE. "She has another one?" Richard’s voice was a whisper of pure horror. "She has a lab in the city," I said. "And Richard... according to the timestamps, Subject 02 is due to wake up tonight." The ground beneath the estate began to rumble. A low, vibrating sound—not a wolf, but a machine.

That was answer enough. Fourth twist. She brought up the ledger mirror, ready for anything—except what she saw. A new entry flickered across the screen. Timestamp: after the heist. Subject Status: CONFIRMED ACTIVE. Bloodline: WHITE WOLF — PRIME VARIANT. Containment Probability: DECLINING.

"On the previous watch, your vocal cords released the names of Rickey Owen and Janet Lawrence; however, my intelligence units found zero matching records in the Dominion ledgers. Provide the missing network markers so my scouts can narrow the parameters." The second my voice hit the space, the old woman's pupils shrank with intense, paranoid vigilance. She dragged Chika deeper into her personal space, her claws digging into his uniform as she shielded his frame with her own body. A wave of raw terror rolled off her skin, her beast misidentifying my chair as a extraction unit designed to tear Chika from her sector. Chika winced, his muscles locking under the sheer force of her grip.

The scent of antiseptic burned my nose. A hospital. I turned and froze. A glass window stretched before me, wide and gleaming. Beyond it— A chair. Restraints. Monitors. Tubes. And me. Strapped to the chair. Pale. Still. A line of stitches running across my scalp. I stepped closer, horror flooding my chest. “What is this?” I whispered. The glass flickered, flashing words in red: "Project Confessor: Subject 01 — Giovanni Moretti" Date: 2002.

The creature didn't scream; it hissed, its orange core flaring as it tried to stabilize. "That’s for Phuwin, you glowing bastard!" Somito roared, bringing the mace down again and again until the orange light flickered and died, leaving only a pile of cooling, amber slush on the floor. "You really need to work on your stealth, old man," Zilo said, rushing to the terminal and his fingers flying across the keys. "Okay, I’ve got the bypass. Cell 402. Restricted access. It says... 'Subject: Pilot. Status: Integration Complete.'"