Scp-215 Novels & Stories

Like her mind was trying to understand that the child suffering onscreen had truly been her. She rewound the footage slightly. Watched it again. The small shaking hands. The crying. The blood. The laughter. Emily gripped the desk harder until her knuckles whitened beneath the gloves. Then suddenly another file resting nearby caught her attention. SUBJECTS 19 & 22 — ROGUE STATUS. Her chest tightened immediately. This was about Damien and Zane. She opened it quickly. Inside were kill directives. Orders authorizing immediate termination upon sight. Threat classification: Extreme.

Bigfoot, Loch Ness monster; were they all wondering around these halls, just waiting to snap her up for a midnight snack? “Many," he said with a careless shrug. "I'm not sure of the exact number, but the Coven is the court for our world. There are hundreds here at any time.” “Of course," she mumbled bitterly. It only made sense for her to land in the Grand Central Station of the immortal world. Fabulous. "Paoli is a vampire, I'm apparently half-demon, and you claim you're 'complicated'," she counted them off. She put finger quotes around the word 'complicated'; a testament to how infuriated she felt since she never air quoted.

I turned the tablet toward him. On the screen was a photo of a glass incubator. Inside, a tiny, translucent shape was floating in amber fluid. PROJECT HARBINGER: SUBJECT 02. STATUS: VIABLE. "She has another one?" Richard’s voice was a whisper of pure horror. "She has a lab in the city," I said. "And Richard... according to the timestamps, Subject 02 is due to wake up tonight." The ground beneath the estate began to rumble. A low, vibrating sound—not a wolf, but a machine.

I muttered. Amy called back twenty minutes later, and she was shaking her head when I picked up. “Good Lord, Fran. I can’t believe they have it there for the whole world to see,” she said. “Now I’m positive they performed an occultist ritual to sever the attachment. It must’ve been complex enough to require two steps. What you saw on TV was the last step, when he actually freed himself from the parasite.” “I’m gonna kill that man bloody.” Amy chuckled. “Easy, Fran. We still need him. When can I visit the Manor? I need to see the entity with my own eyes to know what we need to do.”

alarm, I asked him to switch it off. We could run a little bit late for a change, I thought. But then I heard Neo shout “WHAT! YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME! HOW THE HELL DID SHE DO THAT!?” He must be talking about that crazy sister of his. What in God’s name did she do now? I dragged myself out of bed and went to join him. The look on his face was a mix of shock, anger, and disappointment. Neo told the person he was speaking to that he would be there soon and cut the call. He then told me that she was gone! “She escaped? What kind of people work in that damn station!?” I vented out angrily. He told me that he would have to inform his parents and if I could let Bella and Gabriel know. I phoned

"The 'Holding' protocol has expired. Repossessing raw materials." "Raw materials?" I yelled, the Red Blood surging back to life. I felt the violet spark Silas had left in me ignite, creating a strange, swirling energy that felt like a storm in my veins. "We aren't materials! We’re the ones who survived your 'Graveyard'!" The Null turned its green lens toward me. "Subject 01-A. Identified as: **High-Value Bio-Mass**. Synthesis of Red Blood detected. Recovery of the 'Prime Frequency' is mandatory."

I opened the next document, another fragment, this one tagged Incident Report, RDM-47B. It contained only a few sentences: “During containment, subject displayed uncontrollable electromagnetic discharge. Room temperature dropped by 15 degrees within seconds. When conscious, subject described recurring visions of a burning field and a girl made of gold. Council observer recommends continued sedation until resonance levels stabilise.” I felt the blood drain from my face. The “burning field,” the “girl made of gold.” Rain. That was Rain. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. The laptop hummed quietly, a low electronic heartbeat in the silence.

I opened the folder. Inside were incident reports from other universities. Students with "extraordinary abilities" who'd lost control. Photographs of destruction, entire buildings collapsed, burn patterns that didn't match any known accelerant, people frozen solid in the middle of summer. And at the center of it all, casualty reports. Hundreds of deaths attributed to "supernatural awakenings." "Oh my God," Miguel breathed, reading over my shoulder. The final document was a psychological evaluation of Maya Cross, dated three weeks ago. The conclusion made my blood run cold:

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.