Scp-096 Stories Novels & Stories

Now the two of them alone, Harlequin hugs her and guides her to the exit. I don't know exactly how long we looked at the empty room on his laptop screen, but it was a long time. “Did you record all that?” I turned to see her. "Absolutely everything." she stated facing me. We nod and get to work. I took out my mystery notebook, there I had all the notes. I wrote down everything I perceived, Abby also told me some details like that they don't have bracelets like their “hostages or slaves” I don't know what to call them truthfully.

I feel like I will never escape from the cage I spent so many years of my childhood in. The dream of my first time in the laboratory haunts my mind, a constant reminder that I am the Dark Alpha’s pet, Experiment 399. I subconsciously ran my fingers down the back of my leg, feeling the permanent engraved scar of 399, and then felt the scar over my lower abdomen. Closing my eyes, I let out a whimpered sigh. The buzzing of my phone breaks into my thoughts and I see its Benji calling. I swipe it open, and press the speaker before resting it on top of the small stool I keep near the side of the tub. “Hello?”

I stopped in front of the first one. A girl. No older than ten. My eyes. But softer. Unaware. Unbroken. Lucien whispered, “Can they be saved?” “I don’t know.” “Will they be like you?” “No,” I said. “They’ll be better.” We found the control room buried deep below. Monitors blinked. Life signs stable. Neural connections active. And in the center—an AI construct shaped like a woman. My mother’s voice. The Architect. “If you’re seeing this, IV-9, then you made the wrong choice.”

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.

A hidden directory titled 'Project 99% Mother. Kael’s digital pulse stuttered. The file was a stratigraphic map of every woman the Council had ever used as an anchor. It wasn't a list of heroes. It was a ledger of casualties. He swiped through the names, and the horror of it rippled through the city’s grid, causing the Grand Hall’s lights to strobe a sickly, necrotic violet. Unit 1: Brain death at forty percent petrification. Unit 3: Systemic marrow collapse. Unit 8: Neural extraction failed.

One by one, the younger wolves and allied packs stepped forward to offer their blessings and tributes to the old Alpha. I still had not appeared. Kael forced down the rising unease and stepped aside to call me. The line rang and rang. No answer. He called again. Still nothing but the flat mechanical tone. At that moment, a courier entered the hall carrying three parcels. All of them were addressed to the Blackthorn patriarch. Under the eyes of the guests, the old man opened the first box. Inside was a hand-embroidered tapestry of moon wolves offering blessings beneath a full winter moon. Anyone could tell it had taken months to complete.

CRUNCH. The tires rolled directly over the flash drive, shattering it beneath them. “No!” she gasped, running to it, kneeling beside the crushed metal. Her hands shook as she picked up the ruined pieces. Behind her, silence. No more footsteps. No more gunshots. Just the eerie night air and her own ragged breathing. Slowly, she looked down at the remaining envelope. It held the photograph… and a few damp, stained documents. Pages with half-redacted texts, file numbers, words like Serum A-9 and Subject Memory Control.

Hart said, his blood running cold. “Marcus Veil testified to Congress that you’re a human being held against your will by werewolves, that the totem bond is a form of supernatural mind control, and that you need to be rescued and deprogrammed,” Dr. Vergara explained rapidly. “The FBI is classifying your situation as a kidnapping. If they find you, they’ll take you into custody and deliver you to Marcus.”

Then, slowly, she let herself fall inward. It wasn’t like falling asleep. It was like sinking — deeper, darker, past thought, past fear. And then she heard him. “Doc.” Her heart stopped. “Jax?” “You shouldn’t have followed the signal.” His voice was faint, distorted, like a radio transmission through static. But it was him. “They’re watching. Everything you see, everything you feel — they’re copying it.” “Where are you?” she whispered. “Buried. They trapped me in the mainframe. Sector Delta-9.”

As the Static Blanket dissolved, the vacuum left behind was filled with a new kind of sound, a high-pitched, metallic whine that vibrated in the teeth of every shifter in the city. ​Leo Vane stood in the center of the Chiyoda plaza, his boots crunching on the glass shards of the Ghost-Tower. Around him, millions of people were stumbling out of buildings, clutching their heads, their neural-links glowing white-hot as they disconnected from the Architect’s grid. ​"Leo, we have to move," Ren shouted, his eyes fixed on his frequency-mapper. "The Shadow Council isn't just sending drones. They’ve triggered Protocol 99." ​"What is Protocol 99?" Maya asked, her golden Force flaring as she shielded a