Scp-295 Novels & Stories

The narrow stairway opened into a sublevel room concrete walls, a collapsed ceiling, and equipment scattered across the floor. And there, in the far corner, was a desk. Papers, old blueprints, and a small laptop covered in dust. But what made her stop cold was the message scrawled across the wall above it, written in dark, uneven letters: “HE KNEW.” Her throat tightened. She crossed the room, scanning the papers budget sheets, emails, names she didn’t recognise until one page caught her eye. Devran – Containment Notes – Project B (Phase 2).

My internal monitors flared a terminal red. To save the data, Kael had to create a vacuum of storage. He needed a place to hide the 'Project 99% Mother' folder where the Frequency Spike couldn't find it. He needed to clear his own cache. He needed to delete the man to save the Admin. [INITIATING: MEMORY LIQUIDATION] [TARGET: PERSONAL ARCHIVE — KAEL BLACKWOOD] [VALUE: ABSOLUTE]

Names began to scroll. Personality Templates: • MIA – Conflict Mediator • REX – Executive Strategist • LENA – Emotional Core Support • GRAY – Security Compliance Elias stiffened. “GRAY?” Charlotte zoomed in. A Ward-series clone. Active. Suddenly, Shade’s voice hit the channel. Urgent. “We have movement. You’ve got heat signatures shifting back to corridor C-9. Someone’s staying behind.” Elias froze. “Who?” “Looks like an admin override user.”

She wiped it. Keller’s smile tightened. “Your friend should be in a hospital.” “She was,” I said. “She left. AMA. Against medical advice. Like your policy.” The doors opened. Two men. Black suits. No ties. Earpieces. Not bank security. One looked at me. Then at Rosie. Then he spoke into his cuff. “She’s here. With the sister.” Keller stood up. Fast. “Gentlemen. This is a private—” “Shut up, Keller.” The man who spoke was tall. Scar on his jaw. “Directive 9.2.”

And in each observation room, paranormals are strapped to tables while scientists in hazmat suits run experiments. I see them drawing blood. Inserting tubes. Running energy tests that make the paranormals scream without sound. My father grips my arm so hard it hurts. "We need to move. Security rotates in ninety seconds." "Where's the stasis chamber?" Catherine asks Kieran. "Upper sublevel," Kieran says. "But the path isn't direct. And they've increased security since…" An alarm sounds. Not the gentle chime from before. This one is sharp. Immediate.

Agnes whispered under her breath, her heart hammering in her chest. A sudden, blood-red file unlocked at the top of the queue: > **CLASSIFIED RECORD: OPERATION NIGHTFALL** > AUTHORIZATION: ARCHON MALAKOR / GRAND WOLF ASSEMBLY > EXECUTOR: MORRIGAN VANCE (STEP-MOTHER) > ORDER DETAILS: TOTAL INCINERATION / ASSET SEIZURE > Agnes’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes scanned the decrypted blueprint attached to the file—a highly complex, ancient Relic schematic stamped with her late mother’s personal crest: **The Apex Relic.**

“Sera?” Then Saye seized control again. The transfer resumed. Fourteen percent. Fifteen. A distant explosion shook the facility. Adrian looked toward the corridor. Another followed. Saye turned Seraphina’s head. “Lucian.” The name came with irritation. Not fear. Then Halcyon’s emergency system spoke. UNAUTHORIZED VALE BIOMETRIC DETECTED CONTAINMENT RESPONSE ACTIVATED Steel walls began descending around the archive chamber. Adrian ran toward Seraphina.

"Check the safe behind Voss's portrait. It's... it's all there." Jeff's jaw tightened. "Trap." I was already moving. The portrait hung crookedly near the DNA sequencer—a younger Voss smirking beside a bassinet. The safe behind it opened with Nolan's keycode. Inside lay a single vial of blood and a leather-bound journal. The label on the vial read: Original Source - Daniela Perez. The journal fell open to a dog-eared page: *"The child resists the modifications. Her cellular structure rejects the enhancements. We must terminate and begin again with Subject D-29."*

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.

Notes scribbled in code still clung to clipboards tossed across the floor. “What were they doing here?” Mason whispered. Evelyn opened a drawer, fingers trembling. Photos. Notes. Logs. She stopped at a page marked Case Subject 9A. Age 16. Male. Transfer from “Hollow Branch.” Subject showed signs of high aggression post-serum. Terminated. “These weren’t criminals,” Evelyn said, voice low. “They were kids. Street kids. Runaways. Easy to disappear.” She didn’t say it out loud, but they all knew what she was thinking: