Scp 177 Novels & Stories

“Whatever.” Andrea waved her objections away. “It worked. Two: So far as we know, only Haunt can detect the charmer. So we ask Scy if there is any other way he can think of, then see if he has any records from his predecessor that might indicate human/Haunt crosses in your midst.” Leo sat up. “That’s not possible!” Andrea placed a hand on her stomach. “Is. Scy did say it was rare for your women to have hard labors, seemed to think it a strong indicator of rape, maybe by Haunt. Cases of pre-labor sickness could give a strong clue.”

Sable’s POV The helicopter sliced through the night sky like a black blade. I sat in the rear seat, eyes fixed on the monitor in front of me — a single flashing symbol: the serpent insignia of the Order, flickering like a heartbeat. “Data core transfer at ninety-eight percent,” the technician said nervously beside me. His hands shook as he worked. “We salvaged everything from the facility before the explosion, ma’am. The genetic archives, the experiment files, and—”

The trapdoor creaked open, revealing a stone stairwell descending into darkness. Sang-woo lit a lantern from the desk and climbed down. The walls below were lined with screens. Surveillance monitors. Not just of the estate. But in Yuri’s old school dorm. Devin’s safehouse in Moscow. Koji’s apartment in Tokyo. Their father had been watching everything. Even Azrael. Sang-woo’s fingers hovered over the dusty keyboard. Files. Recordings. Messages Vector had logged but never sent. He clicked open a file titled: N•17 — Stasis Protocol.

It was the voice of someone deciding what to order for dinner, not someone threatening torture. Valerius fumbled for his datapad. "Alpha-Seven-Gear-Shift! Take it! Just don't burn me!" Tristan snatched the pad. He connected it to his own wrist-comp—a piece of scavenged tech from the Dead Sector. "Helena, are you on the line?" "I'm here," Helena’s voice came through, clear and anxious from the Sovereign docked miles away. "I see the uplink. You're trying to access the environmental controls?"

Daniel placed an old laptop on the table. "It's not connected to the internet." "Good." Daniel inserted the USB drive. The screen lit up. Several folders appeared. Wright Capital. Lydia. Evan. Cross Investigation. And one folder simply labeled: S.H. Seraphina stared at it. "What does S.H. mean?" Daniel didn't answer. Julian looked at him. "Open it." Daniel clicked the folder. Inside were scanned documents. Old emails. Bank records. And photographs. Seraphina stepped closer.

The damp air of London's underground tunnels clung to my skin, rank with the smell of sulfur and centuries of decay. I signaled the team to halt, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Scent markers ahead," Lucas whispered, his military training evident in his precise movements. "Two hundred meters." "Everyone clear on the objective?" I asked, adjusting the tactical pack containing Amelia's stolen files against my back. Sophia nodded, her dark eyes gleaming amber in the low light. "Get in, confirm virus distribution points, get out. No engagement unless necessary."

She squeezed it two more times before dropping it in the water close to her chest. Leaning back and relaxing, she let her hands drop on either side of the bath tub. Her left hand reached out for the bottle of wine which laid just below the tub and she lifted it up. Deciding not to bother refilling the now empty glass, she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped her head backward, gulping the red liquid down in a rush. She choked and coughed, placed the bottle down and chuckled sadly. "Omar, I'm really sorry." Hiccup. "I'm really really sorry. But I needed this break, at least I thought that was what I needed.... Bit I miss you terribly...."

He typed four characters into the terminal, his knuckles steady, his eyes fixed on the blinking line at the base of the frozen progress bar. CMD: OVERRIDE_LOG The green screen flickered once, the blue blocks of the progress bar vanishing into a single, clean line of white text that began to scroll from the bottom of the display: MASTER KEY VERIFIED: CATHERINE HAWTHORNE (1998) Sophia’s hand moved then—not toward the white drive on the desk, but toward the inner pocket of her trench coat, her fingers closing around something small and dark that didn't look like a phone or a storage device.

He paused. "...that a child should inherit love." "Not fear." Julian looked at his father. It was the first thing Victor had said that sounded more like Richard than himself. --- The chamber doors unlocked with a heavy metallic click. The computerized voice returned one final time. PRIMARY TRANSFER COMPLETE. SANCTUARY ACCESS ENABLED. DESTINATION AVAILABLE. A new map illuminated across the floor. It wasn't beneath Foundation House. It wasn't anywhere in the Genesis complex. The highlighted location was over two hundred miles away.

Each one filled with a liquid the color of bone. And inside... I stepped closer. My blood turned cold. Faces. Not just any faces. Mine. Younger. Older. Modified. Broken. Each one labeled: Subject A01 Subject A02 Subject A07 - Prime And beneath it, the words: Cloning Viable. Transfer Pending. The tanks began to hiss. One by one, the seals started to disengage. — —Sophia’s POV The outer corridor was colder than I expected. My boots slid across black ice as I moved, fast, careful not to jostle Irene.