Scp-182 Novels & Stories

Doesn't have time to think about what he's doing. He has one more thing to collect and he is already stepping though the portal to get it. --- The other demon in the safe haven back away from Jonathan as he walks through them in search of his last victim; the last 'ingredient' to Type cure. He finds the elderly man speaking amongst the little ones. Jonathan orders the children to go and they flee from them like scattering butterflies.

They were trapped—not by their mother, but by the very thing they had spent their lives trying to master. "We have to get out of here," Pim said, lunging for the service elevator. "It's dead!" Chalida shouted, hammering the buttons. "Everything's dead!" The screens in the room suddenly went dark, and the lights dimmed to a flickering, ghostly blue. A voice—mechanical, synthesized, yet strangely familiar—echoed through the penthouse speakers. "Target identified," the voice said. "Phase two: Elimination." Pim looked at the countdown on her phone. 00:00:01. The lights went out completely.

A thin red line was moving across it. “That’s not a security alarm.” Marcus stared. “It’s a containment failure.” Victor’s face changed. “She’s getting out.” My blood went cold. “Who?” Victor looked directly at me. “The First Serael.” The corridor shook violently. A deep sound came from beneath the floor. Like something ancient had just awakened. Marcus stepped backward. “We have to leave.” Lucien pulled me toward the exit. “Then let’s move.” We reached the archive room. Marcus slammed his hand against the wall.

“Mother.” Elena's heart stopped. “What?” The girl's voice came through the speaker. “You came back.” Elena stepped toward the glass. “Do I know you?” The girl smiled. “You will.” Then every chamber opened at once. Alarms exploded through the facility. Noah shouted: “Everyone move!” The sleeping subjects began waking. Some screamed. Others stood completely still. Then, one by one, their eyes turned silver. Elena backed away. “It's happening.” Elias looked terrified.

“Do it. Elise, grab everything you can from their local storage—files, metadata, anything pointing to other sites.” For the next seven minutes, the room was a flurry of movement. Raven’s screen filled with cascading code as he injected a recursive feedback loop into the Speculum feed. Elise’s drive blinked steadily, absorbing terabytes of stolen images, altered recordings, and annotated psychological profiles of EmberRoots members. Suddenly, a door slammed above them. Voices echoed down the stairwell—urgent, overlapping. “They know,” Raven muttered. “We’ve got maybe ninety seconds.” Sophia scanned the racks. At the far end was a tall, narrow cabinet labeled Seedbank. Unlike the others, it wa

Lena screamed: “HELP! SOMEBODY—HELP ME!” Kass lifted the syringe again. “The prototype must adapt quickly. Your blood will complete the stabilization.” Lena’s breath hitched. She was going to die here. Or worse— be used to birth monsters like this thing in front of her. “No—please—STOP!” The prototype lunged. Lena braced— And then— The entire room shook. Lights flickered. An alarm blared overhead. INTRUDERS ON SUB-LEVEL SEVEN. INTRUDERS ON SUB-LEVEL SEVEN.

Outside, the birds fell silent. A figure stood in our garden, between the rosemary and the struggling carrots. It was neither male nor female, clad in a robe of shifting, neutral grey. Its face was pleasant but forgettable, and it held a slate of smooth, dark stone in one hand. In the other, a stylus of white light hovered, ready to take notes. “Designates: Sze and Kairi,” it said. Its voice was calm, measured, and utterly devoid of inflection. “I am Assessor Seven. I am here to evaluate Incident Report 4492-Alpha and the ongoing status of your localized anomaly.”

curses escaped her mouth as if they were too scared to stay even just for a second in there. In the meantime, a translucent figure of a what seemed to be a person was sitting and chilling inside a control room, its feet resting on top of the table whilst its hand draped over its side while the other hand holding sheets of paper while occasionally glancing at numerous rooms holding creatures, like beast, spirits, humans etc. The translucent figure shook as it listened to the colorful words spat by a woman who was flinging her hands in the air like a mad man.

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

Retinal. “2147,” Keller said. Punched it in. The door hissed. Opened. Cold air. Metal. Deposit boxes wall to wall. “Yours,” Keller said to Rosie. Pointed. 2147. Middle row. Rosie stepped up. Pressed her palm to the scanner. Red light. _ACCESS DENIED. BIOMETRIC MISMATCH._ “What?” I said. Keller blinked. “That’s— that should be Arthur Blackwood’s palm. Or approved—”