Scp-204 Novels & Stories

My dad lifted the corners of his mouth, nodding approvingly. "They're all yours," Trav said and turned to ascend the steps. Torture had definitely never been his thing. But it was definitely my dad's and my thing. Sara had already maimed them quite a bit. The ones on the table were missing their fingers and toes, currently laying in a puddle of their dried blood. The ones on the wall were missing their eyeballs and noses. The whole room stunk of blood and burnt flesh and hair. "What do you think, Tyce? Where should we start?" He clasped his hand on my shoulder. "After all, you're alpha now." He gave me a fatherly wink.

By the time the monster has had his fun, blood covers everything. Before I can do anything the vision disappears and I seem to wake up. As I open my eyes, I see the master standing in front of me; his face must be 5 centimetres away from mine. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Now Cooper, I understand that you don’t have any Ma Vista blood in you. But that does not mean that you won’t be useful to me. “ He steps back, and looks into my eyes. “So Cooper, look into my eyes.” I feel compelled to look at him.

A girl, bound to a chair, head slumped. Suddenly, she looked up. And my blood turned to ice. She had my face. Or... almost. Younger. Different eyes. But everything else—identical. Ethan leaned closer. His breath hitched. “I know her,” I whispered. Ethan turned to me slowly. “That’s not Subject 02,” he said. “That’s a shadow.” My heart pounded. “What does that mean?” He tapped the screen, pausing it. Zoomed into the ID code stamped on the girl’s wrist.

The system was designed to detect ghosts — students who’d vanished but weren’t supposed to. Her name flashed again. SOPHIA MAKINDE — STATUS: ALIVE A male voice in the dark swore under his breath. He clicked the command prompt. Initiate: Containment Protocol Code: “CRIMSON WAKE” Behind the hum of servers, a second monitor showed another girl’s profile now tagged: HELENA JAMES — POTENTIAL INFECTED The machine made no sound. But someone watching was already picking up the phone. Back in Madrid — Sophia’s Small Apartment

I scrambled, ripping the fabric, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Bianca! Run!" Dante tried to stand, but the sand gave way beneath him. A third harpoon thudded into the dune behind him. Then a fourth. They weren't aiming to kill. They were building a cage. "Subject 402 and 403 identified," a voice boomed from the lead ship. It wasn't an AI. It was a man. A human voice, filled with a decade of accumulated hate. "Deploy the Neutralization Gas. We want the Butcher alive for the trial."

Dark Soldiers’ Base – Holding Room Elliot stood before the bank of monitors in the control room, his reflection a grim mask in the glass. On the screens, six young men lay on simple cots in a sterile white room, each with a dull metallic bracelet clamped around one wrist. “We’re missing one,” Elliot said, his voice low. Amy stood beside him, her tablet in hand. “Yes, sir. The seventh signature. It’s… erratic. Fades in and out. The profile fits the historical parameters for the entity code-named ‘Shadowalker.’ How do we find him?”

“Help me before it—” A hand—long, silver, not human—burst from the water and clamped over his mouth, dragging him under. The puddle stilled. Only his reflection remained, staring up at her, smiling. [POV 3 — Unknown Transmission] Log 041. Subject Cade Ashworth: containment compromised. Dr. Maeve Harlan: missing, presumed assimilated. Entity status: evolving. Host-network expanding. Static. Addendum: Visual data suggests tertiary consciousness emerging within the Veil.

The voice”her own voice, yet stripped of all warmth”had drifted from the darkness, but the source remained hidden behind the wall of canisters. She moved the light forward. In the canister nearest to her, a young woman slept”or was suspended”in a clear, viscous fluid. Her features were identical to Cattleya’s, down to the small, crescent-shaped birthmark on the left collarbone. The tag bolted to the base of the glass read: Subject: 402 - Termination Protocol: Failed. "I’m not¦ I’m not a copy," Cattleya whispered, her voice cracking. The sound was swallowed by the vast, oppressive silence of the vault.

Back in the archives, amid the chaos of scattered papers and broken inkwells, Aurelia stared blankly at a small, unassuming black metal cube sitting half-buried under a stack of old files—a high-security military memory crystal recovered from the outer ruins of the southern facility. Without thinking, Aurelia reached out and pressed her palm against the cold metal casing. The crystal hummed to life, emitting a sharp, blue glow. A low, synthetic voice filtered out from the internal speaker, echoing eerily off the stone walls: "When the Moon Queen awakens, the first gate will open." A second later, the audio playback shifted, playing a fragment of a recorded conversation between two senior lea

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.