Scp-399 Novels & Stories

Not fear of him, but fear for him. Lucian let Allen drop to the floor. Allen crumpled, gasping for air, clutching his bruised throat. "You're right," Lucian said, his voice shaking with restrained violence. "Death is too simple for someone like him." Lucian looked at the recording device Allen had dropped. He crushed it under his boot with a sickening crunch. He then looked at the security camera in the corner of the aisle. "Aris," Lucian said into his wrist-comms. "Initiate Protocol 'Ghost-Light.' Sector Nine, Lower Archives. We have a cadet suffering from a 'psychotic break' due to neuro-stabilizer exposure. He’s becoming a danger to himself and the project."

“Your highnesses, I came as quickly as I could. My queen, Claire, stayed in the pack to help the prince and princess manage everything over there. His beta, Maze, is already with them. Claire is updating them. Once everything is ready, she will come here. She should be here in the next few days.” I see how Isabella nods. Alec tells him, “Peter, we need to put out an alert to look for any family members. We found this little guy trapped in one trap on the outskirts of the pack. When asked his name, he said they called him subject 398. Because of the wounds on his body and how afraid he is, we believe he is one victim of Francesco’s experiments. The pup called it the slaughterhouse, since once

The problem was what his residual markers had already proven they could reach. I sank into the spatial realm through residual capacity that answered slowly and cost blood. The familiar black expanse opened around residual awareness: supply partitions, debris compression, the reinforced blue-light cradle that still held Sarah in deep regulated stasis, isolation protocols layered around the Permanent Link baseline. And deeper, behind residual scars the system had never fully erased, the memory of Stasis Cell 03—the partition Continuity had once probed with a neural signature tuned to residual genetic and prior-bond markers, and had later forced open with a remote protocol that dumped Marcus ba

He kept reading. The surviving pages detailed intake dates, medical notations in clinical, distant language, references to subjects by number rather than name. Near the back, a single typed paragraph remained fully intact, unredacted, as though someone had wanted it preserved. Ellie read it aloud, her voice dropping as she went. "Subject exhibits strong maternal attachment beyond expected parameters. Recommend separation protocol be expedited to prevent long-term behavioral contamination. Mother has resisted three previous attempts at compliance. Escalation to Level Four containment authorized."

His hair was snow-white, his features impossibly sharp, and his eyes—shining through the high-definition display—were a bright, glowing, unnatural violet. "Good evening, city," the man's voice echoed from every street speaker, smooth, cultured, and chillingly familiar. "This is Richard Kelvin. A security breach has occurred tonight at one of my corporate residential sectors. A dangerous fugitive and his accomplice have stolen high-value asset blueprints." The screen shifted. Vivian’s breath hitched in her throat, a cold spike of absolute horror piercing her chest. Displayed in massive, crystal-clear definition across every screen in the entire city were two high-resolution facial scans.

Cassian sat at the terminal in the basement office, alone, scrolling through data logs, photo IDs, subject reports. Then he saw it. Subject 0492F — Anaya Soren. Not Anais. Anaya. He clicked it open. Date of file: 14 years ago. Age: 11. Psychological suitability: high. Early signs of emotional suppression. Compliant under extreme stress. Ideal for long-term behavioral modulation. Cassian froze. The next note read: “Phase 3 completed. Memory partitioning successful. Final imprint: Subject has bonded to handler unit C.F. Memory adjustment parameters stable.”

“From the beginning.” Luca stepped closer. “Then it’s time to show them what happens when you plan for the wrong girl.” Across the city, in a white lab lit by halogen lights, a group of masked technicians stood before a tall glass chamber. Inside it, a figure stirred. Female. Connected to wires. Heart rate steady. A screen beside her displayed one name: SUBJECT 03 – Initiate in case of Ava 01 breach. One of the techs spoke quietly. “She’s awake.”

Countdown: T-minus thirty-one seconds. The female voice from the ceiling was calm, almost kind. “Termination protocol engaged. Subject Elias Hart-Resonance, Iteration Nine. Thirty seconds to neural cascade shutdown.” The replica, Nine, was on his knees in the server room doorway, fingers clawing at the back of his own neck like he could rip the kill switch out with his bare hands. Mara stood frozen between the two men who wore the same face. One perfect.

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.

Empty at 2 AM. According to Adrien's intelligence, this facility held the master copies. The original Synapsis research. The core algorithms. Destroy this, and Phase Three would be set back years. First security door. Adrien's code worked. Green light. "Security's responding to our diversion at the main entrance," Cross reported. "You've got maybe eight minutes." Second door. Green. One more. "Adrien, any changes to security patterns?" I asked. "Negative. Everything's as expected. The door should be clear."