Scp-295 소설 & 이야기

he bowed and left. I fixed the ear pod, colour drained from my face immediately the screen lit up, A whimpering Cassie was tied to a chair, blindfolded, with a gun pointing directly at her forehead. “Scroll up doll” a cold voice spoke from the pods, my heart sank deeper into my chest, tears poked my eyes. I pushed it back, with a swipe I scrolled, my heart began racing widely, it was the matron, a red dot was pointed straight at her forehead, a sniper.

He was trembling and on the verge of getting panic attack. Stopping the black Porsche just an inch away from him the driver gets out of the vehicle as if in a trance. "Come back to Tehran." He snarled on the face of Victor, his face purely white with an ugly black scar right on the middle of his forehead. He went to the switch board fixed to one of the pillars in the parking lot and put his finger into the socket. His body shook with passing electricity surprising Victor and he died on the spot.

Not since Elia. I open the encrypted drive I swore I’d never touch again. The one labeled Archive 7. It’s filled with fragments of reports, security logs, transfer records, every breadcrumb I collected after Elia vanished. And at the very end of it, a name I never could make sense of. Subject 29, Relocation Authorized. Custodian: S. Smith. The timestamp is fourteen years old. Same year as the photo. My stomach turns. I click open the attached document, heavily redacted, but one line remains clear:

Like seeing someone from a dream you forgot. Its head tilted slowly. Studying me. The scientist smiled. “Prototype Zero.” A pause. “Meet Ariana.” Silence. Then— the thing spoke. Its voice sounded distorted. Broken. Mechanical. Human. All at once. “…Subject… Nine.” My blood turned cold. Subject Nine. Me. How did it know that? Damien stepped forward instantly. “You don’t come near her.” Prototype Zero looked at him. Then back at me. Its expression changed slightly.

The other was a tall man with the permanent scowl of someone who'd once been a bureaucrat and now had to carry a gun. The woman introduced herself as Marta Sánchez, formerly Control Acquisition Division. The man, DeWitt, didn’t give a first name. Marta pulled a tarp off a metal cart. What lay beneath looked like a human brain, roughly basketball-sized, mounted on a mess of tentacles and chitinous limbs. It had no eyes, but ridges across its central mass pulsed faintly, as if registering light. "Meet the enemy," Marta said. "This is a dead one. We think. Don’t poke it."

Somewhere high above, Maddox bellowed: "Security breach in Sublevel Nine. Contain the asset." Asset. That was all she was to them but to me, she was everything. The final door required biometric access. I grasped the guard I'd released a second ago and pressed his palm on the reader. The lock closed. It was colder in here and darker. Monitors lined all four walls, with images of brains and heat maps. She lay on a metal table now—bound down, wires on her temples and an IV delivering who-knew-what into her veins.

My legs felt like lead, so heavy I could barely move them without my knees buckling. “What have you done?!” I yelled. Henri snickered. “Whatever you are will be over today. Then we will chain you and bury you militia style for our Unit Nine.” Unit Nine. My eyes widened as memories flashed through my mind. Level Nine, the hidden facility, the experiments…. “Captain?” I whispered. Captain Reev answered from the phone. “You’ve got something there, Henri. Keep him calm.” I forced a weak laugh even though my body was shutting down. “Where did you get the tranq from, Captain? Tell me.”

Doesn't have time to think about what he's doing. He has one more thing to collect and he is already stepping though the portal to get it. --- The other demon in the safe haven back away from Jonathan as he walks through them in search of his last victim; the last 'ingredient' to Type cure. He finds the elderly man speaking amongst the little ones. Jonathan orders the children to go and they flee from them like scattering butterflies.

“Trying to control something that doesn’t want to be controlled.” Adrian stared at him for a long moment. “That makes two of you.” That night, Evelyn couldn’t sleep. The mark pulsed too steadily, like a metronome counting toward something inevitable. She opened the folder again, tracing the name R. Draven with her finger. Below it, a half-faded note: Subject exhibited secondary resonance. Suggest containment before phase two. Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number: Containment failed before. It will again. Her fingers tightened. Who are you? she typed.