Scp-218 Novels & Stories

July 28, 2045. Sovereignty Dorm number 80. Cornelio and the Choppers are arrived in Dorm 80 military base, but the Varniant Type body is transported to another Dorm. “Welcome back.” Said Samuel. He already waits Cornelio’s arrival after informed if he leaving Dorm 78. “I’ve returned, what I missed?” ask Cornelio. “Oh, still nothing. Because it’s perfect time to ruin council’s day.” Said Samuel. “I’d like to get nap time after latest fight, but I guess you would drag me to give report about the unknown Varniant Type.” Said Cornelio.

Nya asks, she's getting impatient. The intercom chimes again with another announcement; “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING. THE PROVIDENCE PEACEKEEPERS HAVE IDENTIFIED THE FUGITIVE AND HIS ACCOMPLICE. THEY APPEAR TO BE OMEN; A MALE LYCAN DRESSED IN RED SWIM TRUNKS AND A FEMALE VAMPIRE DRESSED IN A GREEN BIKINI BOTTOM WITH A ROBE ON. PLEASE YOU ARE ADVISED TO KEEP YOUR DISTANCE FROM THEM, THEY ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. REPORT ANY SIGHTINGS TO THE STAFF OR TO THE PEACEKEEPERS. THANK YOU.”

Stacy laughed as she exclaimed I have to earn as much money as I can in the next year so we can ride to school in style. Stacy and Sandra arrived at school and parted ways as they went to their classes. Stacy walked into her home room class oblivious to the fact that in the shadows watching her walk to school was a lone figure with an old grey hoodie that had seen better days. He had listened to the young girls talk about the babysitter stalker and thought to himself just how wrong young Stacy was. He had laid low for awhile since the last time, but it would seem that is was time for another appearance.

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

“Who?” “A stranger, he was at the party, he was wearing a black cloak and suddenly he disappeared. A box appeared and when I picked it up, an unseen hand clawed at my neck. And there was a tendril-like object from the box. I struggled and then spat up a handful of blood.” “Blood?” Alpha Thane asked. “Where is it?” “There.” I pointed at the floor which I was sure I spat blood but it was as without the slightest drop of blood. My throat dried.

“They erased every trace of his existence. Every file. Every photo. But not this. This was buried, not deleted.” The screen in front of her flickered, then steadied. A video began to play. Her breath caught. It was a man with dark hair streaked with silver and eyes unmistakably hers. Laugh lines, strong jaw, that familiar crease between his brows when he frowned. A voice spoke over the footage, clinical and cold. “Subject: Dr. Marcus Harper. Former Chief Systems Architect, Crescent Initiative. Status: Terminated. Protocol: Specter Override failed. Subject not recovered.”

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.

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.

“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.

That was answer enough. Fourth twist. She brought up the ledger mirror, ready for anything—except what she saw. A new entry flickered across the screen. Timestamp: after the heist. Subject Status: CONFIRMED ACTIVE. Bloodline: WHITE WOLF — PRIME VARIANT. Containment Probability: DECLINING.