Scp 073 Novels & Stories

The rogue clone jumped into the driver’s seat, tires screaming as she tore out of the blackened circle of the bungalow. As they hurtled through the rain-slicked streets of the city, the clone reached into her vest and pulled out a small, encrypted tablet. She tossed it into Maya’s lap. "My name is Seven," the clone said. "Or at least, that’s what’s etched into my bone marrow. There were twelve of us in the Delta batch. I’m the only one left who hasn't had a total neural reset."

Now she was a pile of mangled flesh lying in the morgue. I turned and went back inside, locked the door, and slid down against it until I was sitting on the floor. My phone vibrated. "Backup slots are full. In the next cycle, death cannot be transferred." The next day, the sun came up, and the world went on as usual. Except for Unit 703. There was still no movement. I washed my face and looked at myself in the mirror. The scratch at the corner of my eye was still there. It was thin, narrow, and capped with a faint scab.

Viper scrambled to his feet, shaking off the paralysis, his eyes finding mine. "How do we open the pits?" I snarled into Caspian’s ear. He tried to ignore me, his body shaking with pain. I pressed the gun harder, the metal bruising his temple. "Tell me, or I'll end this right now." "Code... 7-4-9-Alpha," Caspian wheezed. "Control... control station three." "Viper! Control station three! Get them out!" I commanded. I watched as the Blood-Hounds sprinted toward the pits. I watched as the concrete lids slid back, and the survivors began to scramble out of the darkness. They were weak, they were terrified, but they were moving.

"Yes." Director Chen made another call. "I need transport teams. Three locations. Switzerland, Singapore, South Africa. Medical emergency. Highest priority. Authorization code alpha-zero-zero-seven." She listened. "I do not care about protocol. I do not care about approvals. We have thirteen hours to prevent a global catastrophe. Move now or answer to me later. Your choice."

Ariana Vale. Mason Hale. The image glitched. And over it, text began to type itself across the screen. SUBJECT A: SUCCESSFUL INTEGRATION. SUBJECT B: DORMANT PROTOCOL ACTIVE. Ariana’s heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. “What does that mean?” she asked. No one answered. The video shifted again. This time it wasn’t a hospital. It was concrete. Steel walls. A circular chamber underground. Facility Seven.

I want their heads. A message appeared instantly. **[7th_Perfection]:** *You’re digging into the '7' files again, aren't you? Careful, Fox. If you wake up too fast, the shock might kill you. You weren't just a hacker. I s I didn't remember. I didn't remember anything. I remembered Tokyo. I remembered the clinic. But as I looked at the scrolling code on my screen, I saw names—identities—that I had used to move millions of dollars across the globe.

Sarah, how do I know which one? She spoke urgently into the microphone. Look for the code SC-47, a blue vial. Got it. Grabbing it now. Relief flooded through me, overwhelming and fleeting, nearly buckling my knees. Harrison, report? Nathaniel asked, voice edged with worry. Static. Harrison? More static, then a guttural grunt of pain. Harrison's voice, strained and rough: Shoulder's hit, but I can still move. They're everywhere. Every exit route we planned is compromised.

After returning to the dorm alone, I made a cup of instant noodles and, as usual, logged into a game. Only when my eyes started to ache did I shut down the computer and go wash up. My phone rang with the notification tone I had set for special contacts. I opened social media and saw a post Rowan had just shared. "Having you is the best thing. The hangover soup you made is the best in the world." The photo showed Nina’s back as she worked in the kitchen, wearing an apron. Under the bright white lights, a gentle, harmonious glow seemed to settle over her.

I ordered in a soft tone. "Right away sir" I leaned into the chair, closing my eyes to sleep I guess. I listened to her voice, "Please Xavier help me, Save me Liam has captured me. I don't know where's he's taking me" She was placed in the trunk of a car, with the plate number 'SCE 091567' I quickly opened my eyes, I realized that it was just a trance but she communicated with me, how's that possible?, questions filled my head wondering what Liam was doing in a Scotland car.

Followed immediately by: He noticed me. Those were two different sentences. The first was a problem. The second was the specific and devastating recognition of something the threads in my chest were producing — the pull, the weight, the absolute certainty of a connection that had been waiting since the ceremony broadcast on Verath Seven and had simply been patient while I tried to be furniture. I know how this ends, I thought. I repacked my single bag. Reported to the domestic staff section in the morning. I kept my face blank. I refused to feel anything.