Scp-290 Novels & Stories

The monitor turned on by itself. One line appeared. NEURAL SEPARATION COMPLETE. Then another. FOREIGN MEMORY PATTERN REMOVED. Seraphina exhaled. It was over. Or so she thought. A third line appeared. SECOND PATTERN DETECTED. Marcus’s face went white. “No…” Lucien turned toward him. “What?” Marcus stared at the screen. “There shouldn’t be a second pattern.” Seraphina stepped closer. “What is it?” The screen changed. A designation appeared. SUBJECT 000-B.

"The biological sensors are picking up a 'Culling Frequency' from the triangular ship. The creature is trying to detach itself from the peak. It wants to flee back into the dark!" ​"Hold it together, Harl!" I roared, my hands fusing with the central trunk of the Grove. ​I felt the mercury in my blood accelerate, the violet lattice pulsing with a new, intrusive stream of data. A window popped up on my internal HUD, a file I hadn't seen in a lifetime. It was a digital copy of my own medical residency papers from the university, annotated in a clinical, multifaceted script. ​Subject 09-Elara. Potential: High. Resistance to Conformity: Critical.

I feel like I will never escape from the cage I spent so many years of my childhood in. The dream of my first time in the laboratory haunts my mind, a constant reminder that I am the Dark Alpha’s pet, Experiment 399. I subconsciously ran my fingers down the back of my leg, feeling the permanent engraved scar of 399, and then felt the scar over my lower abdomen. Closing my eyes, I let out a whimpered sigh. The buzzing of my phone breaks into my thoughts and I see its Benji calling. I swipe it open, and press the speaker before resting it on top of the small stool I keep near the side of the tub. “Hello?”

“I flooded the connection with false data loops. It’ll slow the mainframe long enough for us to track the true core.” Lola blinked through the haze. “So it’s not over?” He shook his head. “Not even close. But now, we know where it’s hiding.” Caleb frowned. “Where?” Ethan turned toward the far wall, where the cracked glass of an old security panel revealed a location map. His flashlight beam landed on the highlighted name. “North Tower – Sublevel 9.” Lola’s stomach dropped. “That’s… the old psychology department. It’s been sealed for years.”

The cabin shook as something massive slammed into it—splintering the wall behind them. “We go now,” Holt growled. But then a voice cried out from the woods. Not feral. Not Circle. Just broken. “E-113!” Evelyn froze. She stepped into the doorway. And saw him—a limping young man, maybe twenty, arms soaked in blood. One eye missing. Collar still fused to his neck. “Don’t shoot,” he begged. “I’m not like them. I remember you. From the Center.” She stared. “Subject K-027,” he said, choking back a sob. “You used to read to us. You were the only one who didn't scream when the lights came on. Please…”

Containment. --- Lucas opened the second drive. Files filled the screen. Old. Encrypted. Partially corrupted. But readable. One document appeared at the top. ARK / PHASE ZERO Below it: OBJECTIVE: MODEL CROSS-SYSTEM RECOGNITION WITHOUT CENTRAL COMMAND. Lucas stared at the sentence. “That's it.” I read the next line. PRIMARY CONSTRAINT: HUMAN OBSERVERS MUST REMAIN OUTSIDE THE MODEL. I felt my stomach drop. “Outside.” Lucas nodded.

It was beautiful, serene, and according to Petra’s sweeps, completely off-grid. Alma stood on the balcony with a steaming cup of coffee, staring into the sunrise. She was trying to feel peace. She couldn’t. There was something gnawing at her, a whisper beneath her skin. A presence. A danger they hadn’t yet uncovered. Inside, Petra sat at a table strewn with documents salvaged from the Prague vault. Pages of bioengineering notes, Seraph insignia, and one black envelope marked with a red sigil Alma didn’t recognize.

“What do you mean?” Marla tapped her keyboard. On the screen appeared a registration document. Not legal. Medical. Anita read it aloud. “‘Subject: SB-001. Genetic viability: confirmed. Psychological profile: compliant with conditioning. Intelligence quotient: stable. Risk level: dormant.’” Nathan blinked. “She’s not a person to them. She’s a project.” Ethan added, “They’ve been monitoring her since she disappeared. And guess where she was for the last six months?” Marla’s voice was grim. “A Rothschild psychiatric facility in Prague. Off the books. Not for treatment. For reprogramming.”

Edward closed his eyes. Then— “Yes.” Everyone stopped. “What was it?” “Rehabilitation facility.” “For?” “Neurological trauma.” Elena. Nicholas looked at the security image again. “She wasn’t kidnapped.” “We don’t know that,” Evelyn said. “No.” He pointed at the screen. “But she wanted us to recognize Chase.” I nodded. “And she gave us a number.” Gabriel said, “Facility 210 is still owned through C.A.” “Current operator?” He clicked.

Like something had crawled out and skittered into the main intake vents. Anji stepped into the center of the room. The static he’d been fighting all day peaked here, a screeching crescendo that forced him to his knees. He gripped his head, his vision turning to jagged slices of red light. Through the blur, he saw a flickering projection against the far wall—the terminal logs, left running since Sutherland’s demise. Gen-Zero Experiment: Neural Syphon. Target: Sustenance via consciousness transfer. Current Host Status: Parasitic.