Scp-445 Novels & Stories

A deep, distorted voice, completely different from Evelyn's or Victor's, spoke softly through the speaker into the silent room: "Sarah Reed has been relocated to the master facility, Subject Zero," the voice said calmly. "If you wish to see your mother alive again, bring the red vial to Pier 42 before sunrise. And come alone." The speaker went dead. Noah stood frozen in the middle of the quiet hospital room, holding the cold red vial in his trembling hand, looking down at his mother's empty, unmade bed.

I opened the next document, another fragment, this one tagged Incident Report, RDM-47B. It contained only a few sentences: “During containment, subject displayed uncontrollable electromagnetic discharge. Room temperature dropped by 15 degrees within seconds. When conscious, subject described recurring visions of a burning field and a girl made of gold. Council observer recommends continued sedation until resonance levels stabilise.” I felt the blood drain from my face. The “burning field,” the “girl made of gold.” Rain. That was Rain. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. The laptop hummed quietly, a low electronic heartbeat in the silence.

"What do you mean?" "I'm smelling four." "Four?" "Yes, there are four different scents. I don't know how to explain it but they all have the same earthly scent, but something else to it. What does that mean?" "You have four mates." "Four mates? That can't be real, I have never heard of that before." Avery was in a state of panic now, which caused her to involuntarily transform back to her human form. Mr Whitetail transformed as well, trying to calm her down.

The other was a tall man with the permanent scowl of someone who'd once been a bureaucrat and now had to carry a gun. The woman introduced herself as Marta Sánchez, formerly Control Acquisition Division. The man, DeWitt, didn’t give a first name. Marta pulled a tarp off a metal cart. What lay beneath looked like a human brain, roughly basketball-sized, mounted on a mess of tentacles and chitinous limbs. It had no eyes, but ridges across its central mass pulsed faintly, as if registering light. "Meet the enemy," Marta said. "This is a dead one. We think. Don’t poke it."

Chemical conditioning. Then she found something that made her stop breathing. A handwritten note clipped to her file. Subject Twelve shows promise but maintains emotional attachments. Specifically to Subject Four. Recommend separation to complete conditioning. Below that, another note in different handwriting. Subject Four terminated. Subject Twelve's conditioning resumed. "Subject Four," Celeste whispered. "Who was Subject Four?" Her brother took the file. Searched through it. Found the roster. Ran his finger down the list. "Here. Subject Four. Enrolled age seven." He went quiet. "Real name: James Veritas."

CHAPTER 49 *WARNING – THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER HAVE SOME VIOLENT AND SENSITIVE CONTENT AND IS NOT SUITABLE FOR SENSITIVE, AND UNDER THE AGE OF 18 YEARS READERS. READERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED GABRIEL Alex, Neo, and I split up as we reached the house. We went hunting for our targets whose uniforms we could take. When I caught sight of mine, I moved in silence and only when I stood close behind him did I speak in a whispered voice, “Hello there, your shift ends now, time for you to take a nap” I put my hands around his neck and pressed the pressure points till he was unconscious. I quickly stripped him of his uniform and put it on. I dragged his limp body and placed him out of sight. Our men were

Broken glass on the floor, files all wet with the water that has drained from a very large aquarium-like object that must have once been so big, it fit a full-grown human. Dr West was running like a crazy person from one end to the other, trying to find something which seemed important to him. "What are you waiting for you idiot? Sound the alarm! Subject 40 is gone!" He said breathing heavily whilst raising his arms in panic. Subject 40 was the lady that is being kept by the wolves I thought to myself, grinning at the thought that I was once again in luck. Chaos is what I need to bring Dr Write out of his office and closer to the exit door where I would easily force him to follow me.

We descended deeper into the mountain, the air growing colder, heavier, reeking of ozone and strong chemical antiseptics. "The main server room is on sub-level four," Vance’s voice crackled in our earpieces. "If Silas downloaded the first half of the sequence from your parents' backup servers, that's where he’s keeping it." Lucien kicked open the door to sub-level four. We stepped into a massive, cavernous space, but it wasn't a server room. My breath caught violently in my throat, my weapon lowering slightly as a wave of nauseating, paralyzing horror washed over me.

The penthouse had turned into a waiting room again. But this time, they weren't waiting for a baby or a verdict or a stock price. They were waiting for a ghost to speak. Aurora sat in the study. The screens on the wall were dark, except for one. It showed a secure feed from a lab in Quantico. Not a live video—that wasn't allowed—but a status dashboard Agent Rivera had granted them access to. CASE ID: 2004-VALE-HAMPTONS.

It was chained to the rock with massive, glowing runes—Taoist binding spells that had been corrupted by time. "Subject 004-Delta," Caleb’s voice shifted slightly, the analytical tone of the AI blending seamlessly with his own observations. "Designation: The Cinder-Husk. Status: Dormant. Threat Level: Extreme." "It's not just dormant," Scarlett whispered, pulling out her jade brush. "It's suffering. Look at the chains. They aren't holding it; they're feeding on it. This thing is a living battery." "Then we put it out of its misery," Caleb said. He didn't transform into his wolf form. Instead, he simply took off his jacket, revealing the intricate, silver tattoos that now covered his arms—the