Scp-373 Novels & Stories

reaked open. A young omega—barely a teenager—was shoved inside. She stumbled, catching herself before hitting the floor. Her eyes met mine, blue and brilliant, full of both terror and something…else. Something untamed. “She was caught stealing food,” the guard said. I walked over slowly, kneeling in front of her. “What’s your name?” I asked. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. “She wouldn’t say,” the guard added. “Won’t speak to anyone.” I smirked. “That’s fine.” I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out a thin metal tag, and held it in front of her face. Stamped onto it was a number: 37. “You don’t need a name anymore,” I said, attaching the tag to the collar around her neck. “From now

His expression is calm, almost disappointed, like I've confirmed something he expected. "Subject Seven," he says, consulting a tablet. "I thought you might be the first to attempt to escape during a security breach. Your psychological profile indicated elevated resourcefulness and risk tolerance." Subject Seven. Not even my name anymore, just a number in his research. "Let me go," I say, trying to project more confidence than I feel. "You have no right to hold me here." "On the contrary, I have every right. And unfortunately, your escape attempt demonstrates exactly why high-security containment is necessary for dimensionally affected individuals."

Status: Active. Subject B (The Mind): Olivia [Redacted]. Status: Active. Subject C (The Shadow): [DATA CORRUPTED]. Status: ESCAPED. "Subject C?" Jack whispered. "There was a third one?" Catherine looked at the screen, her face pale. "Escaped? When?" The log scrolled to the bottom. Location of Subject C: Unknown. Warning: Subject C carries the instability marker. Do not engage. Jack tried to stand up, but his legs failed him. The victory of restarting the power felt hollow. They had just turned the lights on, only to reveal that there was another monster in the room with them. Or rather, out there in the dark.

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.

“No, he wouldn’t– couldn’t–” But my father could. My father did many things no sane Alpha would do. Gavin moves toward me slowly, voice gentle but fraying. “Harley… you’re shaking.” I jerk away. “We don’t have time for this.” Luca swallows hard. “There’s more.” He scrolls. The next entry hits like a bullet to the heart. GENETIC SUBJECT C-37 – ALESSANDRA NOONE Status: FLAGGED / CLASSIFIED PROJECT FIVE – ACTIVE

Eyes that looked like they’d been somewhere else for hours. Penelope didn’t ask if she was ready. She just held out the device. And said, “It’s you. From then on. I don’t know where this was taken. Somewhere before Manhattan. Maybe inside Stage 7.” Vivienne took it gently. Sat on the edge of her bed. She pressed PLAY. At first, it was just breathing. Then her own voice only not quite hers. “Do you understand?” “Yes.” “What is your name?” “Subject 7B.”

Then finally, he said, “Then we’ll build walls. As many as it takes. You’re not facing her alone.” I looked at him, eyes wet. “What if she’s right? What if we were meant to be one?” “Then she’s the shadow,” he said. “And you’re the light.” Outside, Zero stood still as the wind picked up around her. But she wasn’t watching the door anymore. She was looking up. Far above, a satellite’s lights began to flicker. One red blink…then another. Inside it, a voice whispered: “Subject Seven confirmed. Echo destabilizing. Merge incomplete.” “Initiate Phase Three.”

Chapter 8 Scarlett POV “Alpha Scarlett!!!” The sound of one of my guards jolts me awake. “Alpha, patrols have picked up those unrecognizable scents again, this time along the southern border. There are two trackers heading out right now to follow the scent.” I look at the clock and see it’s 3:00 in the morning. “How many different scents were picked up?” I ask, jumping out of bed and grabbing a pair of yoga pants.

“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.

Before the young spellcaster could finish, a blue beam of energy rained down on the Salamander, cutting off a small tip of its tail as the rest of its body was contained in a cylinder forcefield. “What the hell?” Scott said. Eight armed soldiers in green and white coloring appeared surrounding the Salamander. Each weaving a “S” shaped emblem with an arrow going through it diagonally. “Not them again,” Roxy said to herself. “War cloud, who are these guys,” Olivia asked. “I can answer that, Detective Cult,” A fourth voice chord as a dark skin woman with green eyes and short white hair appeared. I am Director Viola Sungold. We are an organization known as the supernatural prevention Espionage A