Scp-449 Novels & Stories

Her body convulsed once, twice, then exploded into dust. Gone. Just like that. The sound that came out of me wasn’t even human. I slapped my hand over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut, but it didn’t matter. The image burned behind my eyelids—her vanishing mid-step, her clothes disintegrating before they even hit the ground. The Game Master chuckled. “Precision, my dears,” it let out. “Precision is everything.” The next name flickered. “Number 0449.” A man this time. Big, broad-shouldered, maybe in his thirties. He muttered something under his breath and stepped up.

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.”

“How about that one. D3M04/A4G31. It looks like the codes I saw on the other files.” Rowan opens the file and gasps. We don’t even notice that our noses are almost touching the screen as we read through the file. D3M04 10RD- Captured date 03/16/1999 - Present Subject showing signs of aggression after being separated from the mate. Due to genetic abilities, the subject is a viable donor for the life endurance of interspecies permutation. D3M04’S mate, A4G31, although a viable donor, is expendable. However, D3M04 10RD has proven himself to be unmanageable because of his superior abilities. Therefore, an arrangement has been made with D3M04 10RD that as long as he remains cooperative, A4G31 sh

Emily was doomed. She was aware of the fact with a quiet acceptance, and surprisingly enough, it left her with no fear. The man who'd grabbed her when she managed to get into the room with Amber was named Brian. He was the one she'd followed here, to her place of doom.

Project Halo had to be in there somewhere. In one hand, she carried a memory scanner. In the other, her fear. But she didn’t hesitate. Because this was no longer about answers. It was about reclaiming control. She found the mainframe beneath the biometric chamber. Silver wires stretched from the walls like veins, pulsing softly. Ophelia plugged in the device and began scanning the database. Names flew across the screen. Carl Maddox. Subject 04. Immune to psychic abilities. Recruited at age 7 after maternal sacrifice.

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.'"

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.

Outside, the birds fell silent. A figure stood in our garden, between the rosemary and the struggling carrots. It was neither male nor female, clad in a robe of shifting, neutral grey. Its face was pleasant but forgettable, and it held a slate of smooth, dark stone in one hand. In the other, a stylus of white light hovered, ready to take notes. “Designates: Sze and Kairi,” it said. Its voice was calm, measured, and utterly devoid of inflection. “I am Assessor Seven. I am here to evaluate Incident Report 4492-Alpha and the ongoing status of your localized anomaly.”

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