Scp-196 Novels & Stories

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.

he bowed and left. I fixed the ear pod, colour drained from my face immediately the screen lit up, A whimpering Cassie was tied to a chair, blindfolded, with a gun pointing directly at her forehead. “Scroll up doll” a cold voice spoke from the pods, my heart sank deeper into my chest, tears poked my eyes. I pushed it back, with a swipe I scrolled, my heart began racing widely, it was the matron, a red dot was pointed straight at her forehead, a sniper.

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—”

BEEP. The primary monitor screen violently flashed into a high-priority crimson. A mechanized automated voice echoed off the walls. "WARNING: SECURITY BREACH. EXECUTIVE CREDENTIALS COPIED AT TERMINAL TIER. CHAIRWOMAN VICTORIA STERLING HAS INITIATED PURGE SEQUENCE. ALL INTERNAL SYSTEMS WILL TERMINATE IN SIXTY SECONDS." Elara’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with panic as she looked back at the live monitor feed of her mother's ward.

The entire facility seemed to lean toward her, listening, waiting. She took a single involuntary step forward. Harris lunged, catching her wrist. “Lena, don’t. Don’t listen to it. It’s manipulating you.” “It knows my name,” she whispered. “So does every database in the country,” Mark snapped. “We don’t know what this thing is. We don’t know what this place is.” Lena’s breath hitched. The light from the crack pulsed and a shadow passed behind it. Not humanoid. Not symmetrical.

The file is named Werewolf-specimen 001. Scott’s hands shook as he hovered over it and pressed the cursor button to open it. He was unprepared, and his heart jumped as the file opened as if a sinister image had popped out of the screen and pounced on him. But of course that didn’t happen. There were only letters and some graphics, but they still horrified him. This organization kidnapped Ciara from her pack when she was one month old. They purposely created chaos in the territory to divert attention, so that no one noticed when Ciara was kidnapped.

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

He roared, teeth sinking into my shoulder—not deep, just enough to mark—and came in pulsing waves, flooding me so full I felt it in my throat. I followed seconds later, untouched now, cum streaking the wall in thick ropes as my vision whited out. We stayed locked like that, his chest to my back, breath sawing in and out. The knot throbbed, keeping us joined, his cum leaking around the seal and dripping down my thighs. After a while, he licked the bite mark closed, tongue gentle. The intercom crackled. “Sergeant Hale, report to Command. Immediate.” We froze. K-19 let out a low sigh, the kind that sounded almost human, then snapped the broken cuff off my wrist like it was made of paper. I turn

The stillness before an unseen storm. “This place gives me the creeps,” Lucien muttered from the front, fingers twitching over his tablet. “Signal interference is unnatural. Even EMP scramblers don’t block this much.” “They’re jamming it from the inside,” Kira said. “Whatever’s in there, they don’t want anyone getting out.” Tariq checked his explosives pack. “Or maybe they’re keeping something in.” The crawler came to a halt at the edge of a rocky plateau, where a steel hatch lay buried in ice and stone—barely visible beneath decades of frost. The entrance to Site 6.

The other was a tall man with the permanent scowl of someone who'd once been a bureaucrat and now had to carry a gun. The woman introduced herself as Marta Sánchez, formerly Control Acquisition Division. The man, DeWitt, didn’t give a first name. Marta pulled a tarp off a metal cart. What lay beneath looked like a human brain, roughly basketball-sized, mounted on a mess of tentacles and chitinous limbs. It had no eyes, but ridges across its central mass pulsed faintly, as if registering light. "Meet the enemy," Marta said. "This is a dead one. We think. Don’t poke it."