Scp-118 Novels & Stories

The estate was a skeletal ruin of its former glory, its walls stained with the shadows of the past. She stared at the note she'd found in Silas's pocket: Neurotoxin X-11. Onset: 2–4 hours. Duration: 5 hours. Symptoms: High fever, dilated pupils, muscular spasms... Lethal to Lycans. The handwriting was clinical, a death warrant written with arrogant confidence. The killer expected Silas to be a corpse by now. But Chloe recognized the name of the toxin. Her mother had developed X-11—it was the Vance Dynasty's crowning achievement during the Great Purge.

Cipher tapped furiously, searching for vulnerabilities in the power grid. Inside the containment unit, the black liquid grew more violent. The hum turned into a roar. Victoria’s smug expression cracked as she noticed their actions. “You’re wasting your time! The system will adapt! It’s self-regulating!” Suddenly, the black shape inside shifted again, this time, it wasn’t just Elias. The skeletal head reformed, and behind it, a ghostly image of David appeared. His mouth opened in a silent scream, full of pain. “He… used… me… freedom… help…”

Causes of death listed as blunt trauma, then as illness, then as “unknown energy collapse.” Another lie. Elias sifted faster, his pulse hammering, until he pulled out a thin folder, old, frayed, stamped with red letters. PROJECT ECHO — POST-SEER RESONANCE He opened it. It was a string of clinical phrases leapt out: Residual Lannister gene activation. Exposure to Bloodseer remnants. Subject demonstrates uncontrolled energy bleed. Recommendation: terminate or evacuate. Terminate or evacuate. And Redwood had chosen… evacuation. Not mercy. Not safety. Self-preservation.

“They erased every trace of his existence. Every file. Every photo. But not this. This was buried, not deleted.” The screen in front of her flickered, then steadied. A video began to play. Her breath caught. It was a man with dark hair streaked with silver and eyes unmistakably hers. Laugh lines, strong jaw, that familiar crease between his brows when he frowned. A voice spoke over the footage, clinical and cold. “Subject: Dr. Marcus Harper. Former Chief Systems Architect, Crescent Initiative. Status: Terminated. Protocol: Specter Override failed. Subject not recovered.”

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."

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

I almost lost control today in her apartment and if she saw the brutality I was capable of when I had no control Dea would fear me till the day she drew her last breath. "That complicates things. I'm sure we can find a way to scare him. We could always use the little bloodsucker. I'm sure he and Lilith wouldn't mind some fresh, hot blood," Quade chuckled at his morbid idea and, even I had to admit, it was a good plan, "you do remember who they are?" "I remember," I admitted, "I've worked with each one of the council members individually to have slight memories of them so Sydney wasn't around all the time."

Before the young spellcaster could finish, a blue beam of energy rained down on the Salamander, cutting off a small tip of its tail as the rest of its body was contained in a cylinder forcefield. “What the hell?” Scott said. Eight armed soldiers in green and white coloring appeared surrounding the Salamander. Each weaving a “S” shaped emblem with an arrow going through it diagonally. “Not them again,” Roxy said to herself. “War cloud, who are these guys,” Olivia asked. “I can answer that, Detective Cult,” A fourth voice chord as a dark skin woman with green eyes and short white hair appeared. I am Director Viola Sungold. We are an organization known as the supernatural prevention Espionage A

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.”

Her hands trembled as she stopped on a document marked: “Transfer Request — Bailey [Redacted] Original Facility: Kensington Biological Research” Beneath that, handwritten: “Subject authorized by L.S. Turner. Emergency override protocol. Must not be awakened until memory sequence clears.” Bailey stepped back from the desk, stunned. L.S. Turner. Lyla. She whispered the name aloud—and the lights above her flickered. Then everything went dark.