Scp-154 Novels & Stories

I opened the next document, another fragment, this one tagged Incident Report, RDM-47B. It contained only a few sentences: “During containment, subject displayed uncontrollable electromagnetic discharge. Room temperature dropped by 15 degrees within seconds. When conscious, subject described recurring visions of a burning field and a girl made of gold. Council observer recommends continued sedation until resonance levels stabilise.” I felt the blood drain from my face. The “burning field,” the “girl made of gold.” Rain. That was Rain. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. The laptop hummed quietly, a low electronic heartbeat in the silence.

It was chained to the rock with massive, glowing runes—Taoist binding spells that had been corrupted by time. "Subject 004-Delta," Caleb’s voice shifted slightly, the analytical tone of the AI blending seamlessly with his own observations. "Designation: The Cinder-Husk. Status: Dormant. Threat Level: Extreme." "It's not just dormant," Scarlett whispered, pulling out her jade brush. "It's suffering. Look at the chains. They aren't holding it; they're feeding on it. This thing is a living battery." "Then we put it out of its misery," Caleb said. He didn't transform into his wolf form. Instead, he simply took off his jacket, revealing the intricate, silver tattoos that now covered his arms—the

I opened the folder. Inside were incident reports from other universities. Students with "extraordinary abilities" who'd lost control. Photographs of destruction, entire buildings collapsed, burn patterns that didn't match any known accelerant, people frozen solid in the middle of summer. And at the center of it all, casualty reports. Hundreds of deaths attributed to "supernatural awakenings." "Oh my God," Miguel breathed, reading over my shoulder. The final document was a psychological evaluation of Maya Cross, dated three weeks ago. The conclusion made my blood run cold:

I recalled Dela Merced kissing me during the filming once again. I wasn't anticipating that move. I gave a headshake. "Fucker, go ahead and put the line down so I can go to the place and attach the bombs," I said. She simply nodded in agreement before the call was terminated. I stood up from my computer and printed the blueprint that Noella had given me. After tying my hair back, I entered my walk-in closet and activated my built-in vault by pressing a secret button. My hidden compartment became visible as the large picture in the center of it started to move. After having my finger print verified, I scanned it and opened the vault.

He activated a private channel. Encrypted. Old Alliance black-seed code. A voice answered. Female. Mechanical. Familiar. > “Authorization confirmed. Project ID: OMEGA VAIL.” Vale spoke slowly. Measured. > “Subject Sera Vail has evolved past core parameters. Secondary asset Syra compromised. Tertiary entity active.” > “Proceed?” Vale closed his eyes. And said: > “Deploy the fourth.” Back on the ship… Sera sat on the floor of her quarters, the child curled beside her, drawing on a blank datapad.

Eric said. A female voice appeared fro the communicator . " Hello ! Please state your identity! ” Architect said. " This is Primal calling to the Sanctum. Come in sanctum. Rick said to Architect. " Read you loud and clear Primal! ” Vital said. By the way, Vital is a member of the sanctum that we met last year. His real name is Tyler Woolstick and he’s a hybrid that could see the weakness in anything and could siphon knowledge from anything to learns it’s purpose and origin.

“It’s not over.” Outside, thunder rolled across the city. The rain returned, heavier than before — as if the storm itself had been waiting for this moment. And far above the ruins of District Twelve, unseen eyes watched the feed from a distant command room. A voice spoke, calm and cold. “Phase Four confirmed. Subjects are active. Proceed with containment.”

"This is the Vanguard Directive. All passengers and crew of Freight 404, step away from the carriages immediately. We are searching for an unregistered temporal anomaly. Non-compliance will be met with terminal force." Anaya gripped the gunmetal cylinder tightly against her chest. The hunters were at the door, and the countdown was still ticking.

"Don't attack. Just... find them." As they closed their eyes, the room seemed to bend. Shadows stretched, and for a fleeting second, I saw a ghostly image projected onto the glass wall: a man in a white lab coat, sitting in a dark basement, hunched over a bank of monitors. He was typing a command labeled Extraction Protocol: 0400. My blood turned to ice. They weren't waiting for the morning. They were planning to move in four hours.

【The classified autopsy report floated in midair as a hologram. Pale blue light sliced through the darkness of the master bedroom.】 Silence. Alexander stood frozen beside the bed. His eyes were locked on the blood-red words: 【Fifteen Years Ago】 【Perfect Living Organ Extraction】 His breathing stopped. Slowly, his rough hand rose to his chest, pressing over the old cross-shaped scar beneath his shirt. For fifteen years. Ever since he had walked out of Eden, that scar had remained there.