Scp-191 Novels & Stories

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.”

One of the maintenance bots confirmed after a full x-ray scan, the human assistants doing their last small tasks such as removing any unnecessary hair from her body and trimming her nails before gathering their smart kits and exiting the room. The BloodHound however remained rooted to his spot, guarding the subject until two of the doctors assigned to the Negative program entered, ready to do the full inspection. Dr. Nasri entered first, her dark brown eyes trained on the fragile figure laying over the white table as she held a tablet close to her chest. "So...another Negative has been found, huh?" "And she is a fine specimen too," Dr. Nazarov commented as he followed his co-worker, taking a

It led her to a locked steel door. Behind it, a cold chamber hummed with quiet power. She stepped inside. And froze. At the center of the room, floating inside a cryo-stasis tank, was a man. Tall. Pale. With circuitry etched across his bare chest. Subject 01: Kael Prototype. The moment she approached, his eyes snapped open. Alma staggered back. Julian burst in behind her, weapon drawn. “Who the hell is that?” he asked. The chamber began to shake. Lights flickered.

“Trying to control something that doesn’t want to be controlled.” Adrian stared at him for a long moment. “That makes two of you.” That night, Evelyn couldn’t sleep. The mark pulsed too steadily, like a metronome counting toward something inevitable. She opened the folder again, tracing the name R. Draven with her finger. Below it, a half-faded note: Subject exhibited secondary resonance. Suggest containment before phase two. Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number: Containment failed before. It will again. Her fingers tightened. Who are you? she typed.

It now read: Primary research subjects identified. Isabella Voss. Alexander Hale. Observation escalation initiated. The chamber doors locked again. This time with finality. The lights dimmed to a colder shade. And the voice spoke one last sentence. Thank you for accelerating my evolution. Black.

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.

Agnes whispered under her breath, her heart hammering in her chest. A sudden, blood-red file unlocked at the top of the queue: > **CLASSIFIED RECORD: OPERATION NIGHTFALL** > AUTHORIZATION: ARCHON MALAKOR / GRAND WOLF ASSEMBLY > EXECUTOR: MORRIGAN VANCE (STEP-MOTHER) > ORDER DETAILS: TOTAL INCINERATION / ASSET SEIZURE > Agnes’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes scanned the decrypted blueprint attached to the file—a highly complex, ancient Relic schematic stamped with her late mother’s personal crest: **The Apex Relic.**

“Sera?” Then Saye seized control again. The transfer resumed. Fourteen percent. Fifteen. A distant explosion shook the facility. Adrian looked toward the corridor. Another followed. Saye turned Seraphina’s head. “Lucian.” The name came with irritation. Not fear. Then Halcyon’s emergency system spoke. UNAUTHORIZED VALE BIOMETRIC DETECTED CONTAINMENT RESPONSE ACTIVATED Steel walls began descending around the archive chamber. Adrian ran toward Seraphina.

Talia allowed, though she was already snapping a photo of her bed for her I*******m story, so I knew she loved it. ​I walked over to the open door, wanting to catch the breeze from the hallway, but before I could even take a breath, the door directly opposite ours swung open with a violent bang. ​A woman stood in the threshold of Room 303. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and massive, wearing a silk robe that looked like it had seen better decades and a pair of fuzzy slippers that had completely lost their structure. Her face was set into a permanent, aggressive scowl, and her short, bleached-blonde hair was sticking up in three different directions like a disgruntled cockatoo.

His hair was snow-white, his features impossibly sharp, and his eyes—shining through the high-definition display—were a bright, glowing, unnatural violet. "Good evening, city," the man's voice echoed from every street speaker, smooth, cultured, and chillingly familiar. "This is Richard Kelvin. A security breach has occurred tonight at one of my corporate residential sectors. A dangerous fugitive and his accomplice have stolen high-value asset blueprints." The screen shifted. Vivian’s breath hitched in her throat, a cold spike of absolute horror piercing her chest. Displayed in massive, crystal-clear definition across every screen in the entire city were two high-resolution facial scans.