Scp-32 Novels & Stories

THIRD PERSON Vlad takes a few deep breaths, fighting his Vampire, Martel, to stay hidden under his human scent. Once he has at least a sliver of control, he turns to Kolby and says, “Do you know which target is this new creature?” “No, Sir.” Vlad sighs and pulls out his phone, opens it and presses 3, the speed dial sounds, and then it rings. It is answered by the second ring, “Boss.” “Nicolas, this new creature, do you know who?”

“You’re eighteen, right? Sixteen years ago was the tail end of a pretty large war in the werewolf world. You could have been a survivor. Do you remember anything about what happened before you were at the orphanage?” “I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “It’s fine. A lineage test would be able to tell you if any of them are alive at least.” Another knock sounded from further away. She stood. “Seems like the calvary is about to advance. Would you like to meet him?” I blinked. “Him?” She grinned. “Chief Operative of the SCF and Liaison Specialist Dagon Bluescale.”

It was a voice that was perfectly calm, perfectly professional, and perfectly terrifying. *"This is the Aethel-Group Recovery Division. Sector 7-G has been identified as a 'Non-Sanctioned Biological Sprout.' Our records indicate that this landmass is a secondary backup for Project Origin. Your presence here is a violation of the End-User License Agreement."* From the tear in the sky, thousands of small, silver spheres began to descend. They didn't fall; they floated, moving in a perfect, geometric formation. "They’re spheres," a young wolf whispered, reaching out to touch one as it drifted near the ground.

"Feeling things is what makes me reliable. I won't let another child suffer because of Project Seventh. Tell me where she is." Wraith's hand shook violently, gun barrel pressed against her temple, finger on the trigger. Dimitri calculated angles, could he disarm her before she fired? Sixty percent chance. Not good enough. "Site Seven, outside Denver," Wraith whispered. "Her designation is Subject 3-A. They call her Ana. She has my eyes." A tear tracked down her face. "Promise me. Promise me she'll know I tried to save her." "I promise," Anya said. "Now put down the gun."

The short-range danger Halvorsen had named sat over our own walls like a second watch list. “If that case is a reading tool,” Seraphina said, “they will want a place near enough to use it.” “Then they do not get near enough,” I said. The wing stayed locked to named faces. The garden stayed closed. The pack was told the heir still needed quiet recovery time. That was true. It was not the whole truth. Kael’s first message came after dark. Short. Controlled. *Case taken. Two alive. Tools inside—not second-stage. Reading kit for residual and unstable triad signatures. They were moving it toward our line.*

“Looking for someone, Detective?” My blood turns to ice. Lydia. “Show yourself,” Sebastian demands. A laugh echoes through the channel. “I’m everywhere you’re not. Did you really think I’d walk into your trap? How adorable.” “Where is Daniel Sterling?” “Oh, he’s safe. For now.” A pause. “But you should check the thirty-eight floor. I left you a present.” The line goes dead. Agent Nova is barking orders, coordinating response teams. But I’m not listening anymore. Because the thirty-eight-floor camera just came back online. And what I see stops my heart.

Three figures entered. Human in appearance. Hospital uniforms. Doctor. Security officer. Orderly. The manner in which they moved dispelled any sense of normalcy. Perfectly synchronized. Eyes fixed forward. No wasted motion. No individuality. They all came to a standstill at the same distance from the threshold. The three individuals communicated in unison. “Subject Amina Reyes. Secondary entity transfer is required.”. Daniel stood immediately. “Over my dead body.”. The figures didn't react. Because threats required emotional context.

Data, coordinates, intent and a face. I uploaded it to the neural scanner. The man beside Damian wasn’t just muscle. He was a known ghost from black-ops: Kazimir Vukov. Ex-SERAPH. Off-grid for six years. Now he was back—and working for the enemy. Sophia wasn’t being held for leverage. She was being held because she was the only one who could still outmaneuver him and if Damian got bored… he’d test her limits just to see how long it took to break her.

Her conscience sensed something dangerous about to happen. Everybody in the house had gone to watch a movie in the theatre. Alexander had gone to meet his friends. Amara was alone in the enormous palace. She stared at Princess Veronica's picture. "Is the monster still buried in the sepulchre? It is too long a time....three hundred years. Does he still stay there without using his evil powers? He shouldn't ever come out. But what if he does?" Amara mutters her anxious words standing before the princes's picture.

The system was designed to detect ghosts — students who’d vanished but weren’t supposed to. Her name flashed again. SOPHIA MAKINDE — STATUS: ALIVE A male voice in the dark swore under his breath. He clicked the command prompt. Initiate: Containment Protocol Code: “CRIMSON WAKE” Behind the hum of servers, a second monitor showed another girl’s profile now tagged: HELENA JAMES — POTENTIAL INFECTED The machine made no sound. But someone watching was already picking up the phone. Back in Madrid — Sophia’s Small Apartment