Scp-295 Novels & Stories

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?”

*Test subjects. Aleksandr stepped forward, studying the nearest chamber. The label read: SUBJECT 017 – STATUS: ACTIVE Suddenly, the figure’s eyes snapped open. A sharp alarm blared through the lab. Elena’s heart pounded. “We need to move, now.” Hydra’s Trap Above ground, Dante and Luca had infiltrated the facility’s control center. Screens flickered with security feeds—guards mobilizing, alarms flashing red. Luca swore. “They knew we were coming.”

"EMMET ISLINGTON, FORMER HEAD SCIENTIFIC DIRECTOR AT A MILLITARY RESEARCH FACILITY SIMILAR TO THIS ONE, KEPT EXTENSIVE RECORDS THAT WERE HIDDEN AWAY WITHIN HIS OFFICE, AND ENCRYPTED. THE DISCOVERY OF THE DOCUMENTS AND THE EVENTUAL DECRPYTION LATER PROVIDED VALUABLE INFORMATION OF THE INDIVIDUAL KNOWN AS 'RED_TWO', AN INDIVIDUAL THAT WE BECAME AWARE OF AND ALLOWED TO CONTRIBUTE HIS EFFORTS ONTO THE TIME TRAVEL PROJECT AND THEN ALLOW TO KILL ONE OF OUR OWN TO ESCAPE US." "NOTES CEASE TO EXIST ON WHAT WOULD HAPPEN AFTER THIS INCIDENT, AND WE TOOK HIM INTO CONFINEMENT, FULLY ANTICIPATING HIS DEATH TO EXTRACT THE INFORMATION ACCUMULATED WITHIN HIS BRAIN AFTER HIS BODY HAD FAILED ON SITE. THAT IS

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’m listening.” Hacker’s eyes flicked between screens and prints. “There’s more. Patrol schedules weren’t the first thing to go out. Weeks ago we had two medical reports pushed to an encrypted folder on a public server. One is a supply requisition. The other is a scan of… a hand.” “Whose?” Ghost asked. “Human male. Age range mid-thirties. Extensive metallic augmentation at the carpal. The skin profile—” He swallowed. “You remember the image Velia sent of the detonator Kane held? The hand that got left behind?”

Her smooth, rounded body relaxed into me with no opposition. "This ends tonight," I said. And for an instant, I did. *** Meanwhile… Emmaline Shaw – Private Server Room, Underground Facility The emergency messages streamed across her screens in waves of cascading red. ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED PROTOCOL FAILURE - CODE X900 ASSET TRACE: INITIATED She looked at the cascade of information streaming in—Eric's scan had touched off an irreversible chain reaction. "Shut it down!" she exclaimed. "But ma'am—"

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:

His eyes were empty. I walked past the second cell. Empty, except for a chair in the center of the room with leather straps. I checked the clipboards hanging next to each door. Subject 892. Reconditioning Complete. Subject 411. In Process. I walked faster, my breath misting in the cold air. Then I saw it. Room 404. The clipboard was older than the others. The paper was yellowed. Subject: Elena Thorne. Status: Permanent Resident. Notes: Memory wipe successful (1998). Personality graft stable. Do not engage in discussions of the past.

“So that wasn’t random. It’s a faction.” Adrian opened the black file. Inside were only two items: A handwritten memo. And a photo. Elara stepped closer—and the world dropped out beneath her. The photo was of a lab. Her mother stood in the center. Younger. Wearing the same badge from the sealed envelope. Standing beside a terminal labeled: SUBLEVEL 2 — CONTROL NODE And next to her— Elara’s breath hitched. A man stood partly turned away. His face blurred by movement. But his silhouette was unmistakable.

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.