Scp-410 Novels & Stories

They were fast—unnaturally fast. “Signal sent,” Nomo whispered as the tablet chimed. He looked up just as the first creature lunged from the shadows, its jaw unhinging to reveal rows of needle-like silver teeth. He raised his sword, the silver blade humming with his own desperate energy. “Sofia... I hope you’re watching.” (SOFIA QUISPE’S POINT OF VIEW) “The signal is coming from the basement levels of Warehouse 14,” Phuwin said, his fingers flying across the keys. “I’m trying to override their security, but someone is counter-coding me in real-time. It’s Klaus. He’s been waiting for us to trip this wire.”

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.

The creature didn't scream; it hissed, its orange core flaring as it tried to stabilize. "That’s for Phuwin, you glowing bastard!" Somito roared, bringing the mace down again and again until the orange light flickered and died, leaving only a pile of cooling, amber slush on the floor. "You really need to work on your stealth, old man," Zilo said, rushing to the terminal and his fingers flying across the keys. "Okay, I’ve got the bypass. Cell 402. Restricted access. It says... 'Subject: Pilot. Status: Integration Complete.'"

Adrian parked outside, and I looked at the building. “This place feels like it is holding something.” He looked at me. “Are you afraid?” “Yes.” He took my hand. “So am I.” I smiled faintly. “At least you admit it.” “I have never been afraid to admit that.” We entered through a broken side door, and the smell of dust and damp walls filled the air. My father led us through a narrow corridor. “Room 417 was upstairs.” We climbed the stairs, and every step sounded too loud. When we reached the fourth floor, we found a long hallway where the room numbers were barely visible. My heart raced. Then I saw it. Four one seven. The door was locked, and I held up the key.

“The Pure Omega strain has successfully bonded with the host marrow. Inquisitor Vane has ordered immediate brain-scrubbing and harvest.” *** “He didn’t get to harvest Subject 109,” Rin noted, stepping closer to read the screen over Julian’s shoulder. “No,” Julian continued, scrolling down the encrypted text. “Dr. Aris faked the subject’s termination report. He smuggled the infant out of the apex facility inside a medical waste crate, dropping him in the lower drainage sectors of District Four.” A short, breathless scoff escaped my lips. I looked down at my hands. The silver mark on my forearm pulsed in exact harmony with the diagnostic terminal.

He looked back at her then, and for a fleeting, devastating second, the violet rage faded, leaving behind the man who had laid on the sofa with her and wondered about the nature of humanity. "The exit to the surface is three levels up," he commanded, his hand moving to the hilt of a hidden blade beneath his coat. "The extraction unit will target the strongest signal in the sector. That will be me. While it is fixated on me, you will reach the surface." "I am not leaving you here to be deleted," Cattleya said, her voice hard, final. She reached into her pocket, gripping the silver locket she had recovered”the one labeled TEST SUBJECT: 801.

It was built for containment. Keller fired up a terminal. “You accessed your file,” he said. Not a question. Selena nodded, focusing on the data. “And you saw the edits.” “Yes.” He studied her for a while, measuring how much she’d already put together. Then he turned the screen her way. The document wasn’t one she’d seen before. Protocol 7B – Trial Candidate Review Her eyes locked on the identifier. Main Candidate: SH-419 Suddenly, she felt something snap inside—tight and immediate.

All the doubt, anger, and suspicion vanished in the face of that tiny, frail voice. Officer Holt's voice came urgently through my phone. "Sophia, we see him! He's in the hidden chamber of Unit 1204! Hold on tight! We'll organize a breach immediately and—" "It's too late," I interrupted. "Professor Walker's system is linked to mine. He just triggered a self-destruct program. In 15 minutes, the oxygen in that hidden chamber will run out." "What?" "Officer Holt," I uttered with a newfound numbness, "only I can save him now."

The facility isn't just a building. It’s a tumor carved into the cliffside. We breach the perimeter using the cloned keycards Echo generated. The air inside is recycled, cold, and smells of ozone and money. It’s the same smell as the black site, the same smell as the penthouse. The scent of power. "Sub-level 4," Alex whispers, checking the schematic on his wrist comm. "That's where the core is. That's where she is." We move like ghosts. The corridors are sleek, white, and disturbingly empty.

That was answer enough. Fourth twist. She brought up the ledger mirror, ready for anything—except what she saw. A new entry flickered across the screen. Timestamp: after the heist. Subject Status: CONFIRMED ACTIVE. Bloodline: WHITE WOLF — PRIME VARIANT. Containment Probability: DECLINING.