Scp 177 Novels & Stories

Malakor stared at Julian, then looked back at my glowing silver eyes. Dust was raining down from the ceiling now. The quartz shelves were shaking hard. The old books were tumbling onto the floor. "Seven-four-nine-nine!" Malakor screamed. "The code is seven-four-nine-nine. Sector four routing." Julian typed the numbers into his wrist terminal with one hand. The blue screen flashed green, a wave of encrypted files pouring across the display. "Data is in, my lord," Julian said, stepping back and letting go of Malakor's jaw. "I have the records for the Sump clinics."

“Ifu intercepted these scrolls from the Darkwater Freight Dominion raid for a reason. These specific tributes are being routed straight through a shell sanctuary on the Mooncrest Coast.” “I am literally forcing our way through their ancestral proxy-nodes right now,” she snapped, her fingers blurring across a custom glass keyboard that hummed with kinetic energy. “But the moment my spirit-trace touches their Cayman mirror, the system tries to track my physical scent back to this room.” “Then mask your scent,” he commanded, his voice dropping into a tense, desperate whisper. “Use the skeletal runes you stole from the Valemont Blood Archives. We cannot lose this trail.”

“You’re eighteen, right? Sixteen years ago was the tail end of a pretty large war in the werewolf world. You could have been a survivor. Do you remember anything about what happened before you were at the orphanage?” “I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “It’s fine. A lineage test would be able to tell you if any of them are alive at least.” Another knock sounded from further away. She stood. “Seems like the calvary is about to advance. Would you like to meet him?” I blinked. “Him?” She grinned. “Chief Operative of the SCF and Liaison Specialist Dagon Bluescale.”

No one spoke, but the weight of what they had just discovered hung over them like a storm. Ayesha sat at the table, her fingers tracing the rim of a half-empty glass of water, staring at the decrypted files Priya had extracted from The Hollow Order’s servers. Her clone was real. Subject 17 wasn’t just an experiment. She was a weapon. And she had no resistance to her programming. Priya had highlighted a chilling note from the files: “Unlike Subject 01, Subject 17 does not exhibit emotional instability or hesitation when given an order. Her primary objective is termination.”

“Apparently, she did that so she wouldn’t have to return my wolf and scent.” “Which she gave to another person,” IIya said, her tone almost amused. “Well…I’m glad to inform you that you’re lucky. This book contains the list of all sorcerers and whatever magic they can create—potions, spells, you name it. I have Akira’s magic over…here!” Her eyes twinkled as she unfolded her fist, revealing a small vial with a black liquid inside. “Take it to whomever stole your wolf and scent. Just a little drop on them, and the restoration occurs.”

And they prohibited most of the abilities that make me a demon from usage. I nickname the man Jerk, although my clairvoyance told me he is a regular human nicknamed Jackal. I don’t know what business he has with Scarlet, but she is allowing him to flip up her skirt under the covered table, which I can see from the table behind. His left-hand glides down her skirt and feels her bare bottom. She is wearing a lacy thong that matches her bra and while seeing the lace gives me a reaction; I am jealous that someone else, instead of me, has his dirty fingers touching her intimate parts.

Scarlett said, nodding toward the training grounds where the cyber-Lycan warriors were already boarding the transport bays. As the Ark began its massive, sub-space jump toward the North Pole, Scarlett felt a chill that had nothing to do with the arctic air. In the depths of the Stellar Navigator, a new file had just decrypted. "Project Chimera: Final Objective—The Resurrection of the Prime Architect." Scarlett’s heart hammered. Xuan was gone, and the High Scientist was a prisoner. But if there was a "Prime Architect" still waiting in the Silent Gears, then the experiment was far from over.

It was almost invisible beneath years of wear. The same circle. The same three lines. But beneath it was a number. 17. Adrian's expression became unreadable. “Do you know what seventeen means?” I shook my head. “No.” He looked toward Sebastian. “Find every location, account, company, vehicle, employee, prisoner, and transaction connected to the number seventeen in Marcus's records.” Sebastian nodded. “And if there are too many?” “Find the ones that existed six years ago.” I looked at Adrian. “You think seventeen is a location.”

The doctor hesitated. "Before removal." Romnick's eyes narrowed. "How far?" "Toward your spinal cord." The room went still. Alex took a sample scanner from his case. The shard reacted immediately. A faint blue light pulsed beneath its surface. Then the command center screens activated. Every display showed the same message. SUBJECT R-17: ADAPTATION INCOMPLETE. Romnick gripped the arms of his chair. The shard pulsed again. A second message appeared. RECOVERY REQUIRED. Cinthye drew her weapon.

*Test subjects. Aleksandr stepped forward, studying the nearest chamber. The label read: SUBJECT 017 – STATUS: ACTIVE Suddenly, the figure’s eyes snapped open. A sharp alarm blared through the lab. Elena’s heart pounded. “We need to move, now.” Hydra’s Trap Above ground, Dante and Luca had infiltrated the facility’s control center. Screens flickered with security feeds—guards mobilizing, alarms flashing red. Luca swore. “They knew we were coming.”