Scp-109 Novels & Stories

I typed a query into the stolen Citadel frequency. Troop Deployment Manifest: Sector 99. The screen flooded with red text. The light leached the color from my hands, turning my skin a sickly, artificial crimson. ACCESS GRANTED. DEPLOYMENT CONFIRMED. UNIT: PURGE CORPS (BATTALIONS 1-10). ASSETS: HEAVY WALKER DIVISION. AERIAL SUPPORT. OBJECTIVE: TOTAL ERADICATION. "Wolfy?" Neoma stood in the doorway. My skin prickled—not an itch, but a sharp, electric sting. The air around her was ionized. The chemical scent of it made my lungs tighten.

He looked back at her then, and for a fleeting, devastating second, the violet rage faded, leaving behind the man who had laid on the sofa with her and wondered about the nature of humanity. "The exit to the surface is three levels up," he commanded, his hand moving to the hilt of a hidden blade beneath his coat. "The extraction unit will target the strongest signal in the sector. That will be me. While it is fixated on me, you will reach the surface." "I am not leaving you here to be deleted," Cattleya said, her voice hard, final. She reached into her pocket, gripping the silver locket she had recovered”the one labeled TEST SUBJECT: 801.

“Who?” “A stranger, he was at the party, he was wearing a black cloak and suddenly he disappeared. A box appeared and when I picked it up, an unseen hand clawed at my neck. And there was a tendril-like object from the box. I struggled and then spat up a handful of blood.” “Blood?” Alpha Thane asked. “Where is it?” “There.” I pointed at the floor which I was sure I spat blood but it was as without the slightest drop of blood. My throat dried.

"And it recognizes its mistress." Harris's fingers brushed the revolver's checkered grip. "Where is Subject Eight?" His mother's smile revealed teeth filed to subtle points. She pressed a sequence into her console. The wall behind her split open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing a cylindrical containment chamber. Suspended in amber fluid, a girl floated in fetal position—her dark curls swaying in the current. Not a girl. A weapon. Luna's face. Anna's eyes. Rachel's smile. "Generation Nine," his mother breathed. The black veins pulsed as she approached the tank. "The first perfect hybrid."

But a voice came from within it: “You opened the door… now I will open them all…” Naina rang the bell. Tannn… A sharp, piercing sound. Raghav’s body jerked and froze. Tann… tann… On the third ring, a scream tore through the hall—something not human. The scratches on the walls flashed briefly, as if fire ran through them. And then—silence. The lights returned to normal. The windows cleared. The doors unlocked. Raghav lay unconscious on the floor, looking completely normal. But his fingers… they were slightly longer than before. Just slightly. And carved into his palm was a number—509.

They were past that. This wasn’t a debate. It was a countdown. Inside the Geneva vault, the girl opened a folder labeled: SUBJECT 09 – DEV NOTES – G.HART PERSONAL It wasn’t technical. It was a journal. Gabriel’s voice in typed form. Cold. Distant. Obsessive. “The others lacked polish. Ava had strength but not obedience. Rowen had will but no balance. Subject 09 is different. She does not rebel. She adapts. She is not Ava’s rival.

Recalling a peculiar encounter in a white room earlier, where he had noticed an individual who stood out due to their height, Stallion's anger grew. He had wanted to confront that person, but a vital meeting had intervened, preventing him from doing so. Stallion recognized the urgency of the situation, considering the capabilities of Queen and Shawn, who had managed to infiltrate his residence. With his plans in jeopardy, Stallion called upon someone he believed could assist – the police chief. When the police chief answered the call, Stallion urgently conveyed, "My residence is under attack, led by Shawn Diesel and Queen Scorpion. I need them apprehended and brought to me. Deploy your best

“Yeah, yeah. I just need your room number, if you don’t mind.” “3210. What happened?” “Nothing. I’m just leaving you a note at the reception.” “Oh, okay. Just gimme a minute. Don’t disconnect, okay?” “Sure, I’ll wait.” I handed the envelope to the receptionist again, phone still to my ear. It felt nice, proving I wasn’t just some crazy fan trying to ambush a celeb. “Room 3210.” The man had hardly touched the envelope when a hand materialized out of nowhere from behind me. A hand with a very particular tattoo between his index and his thumb. The receptionist nodded, still smiling, and let the hand have it.

them from the timeline. "The Nursery," Silas whispered, his obsidian hand reaching out to touch the translucent mailbox of a house labeled *The Miller Residence*. As his fingers made contact, a digital readout flickered across the mailbox: **[SUBJECT 4,992,101 - STATUS: DORMANT - LICENSE: ORIGINAL]**. "They're all here," Sarah's voice echoed through the air—not as a sound, but as a broadcast. "Every single person who ever lived on the real Earth. They're waiting for the 'Format' command, Elara."

What did that even mean? “I have no idea what you're getting at,”she said to the young girl.”What are you speaking of?” “She has lived in the shadows for a long time,watching and waiting for you.” “You’re not making any sense,”Beth replied,agitation rising in her voice. “Have you not felt her Beth?Here in your home?She watches you,growing stronger every day,she wants your life and she will end it when she’s ready.” Now Beth was getting mad.Were hallucinations supposed to be this annoying?