Scp-468 Novels & Stories

Luckily, these four were also new recruits who went down like dominoes getting hit by a pickup truck. The moment Jo turned back around, noting that they were at the exit for the twenty-eight floor, her IAC crackled, and then, a new voice was in her head. “Scott? Son? Are you really here?” “Dad!” Scott shouted, both aloud and through the IAC. “Yes. Do you know what floor you’re on?” “Scott, I really think you should leave. I don’t see how you can do this. We are surrounded by a few hundred Vampires at the moment, and Cassidy said it’s just you and Jo. You’ll never make it.”

My Alpha command left no room for discussion, that duty guard hastily clicked some buttons on his laptop and turned its screen towards me. “Here it is, Alpha. Please forgive me. It’s my first and last mistake. It will never happen again.” But I wasn’t paying any attention to his blabbering, as my eyes were fixed on the details of Helena’s stay here. “Helena Hensley. Death cell number four.” There wasn’t any record of her shifting, and this was the official start of my panic attack. “Show me the CCTV footage of the last twenty-four hours.” My next command perplexed that clueless idiot, his eyes popped out while processing this sudden order.

I ran for the door but stopped dead. Three Council guards stood in the hallway. And behind them, Dr. Helena Cross. "What's going on?" I demanded. "We received an energy spike alert. This entire building registered a Class Five surge." Dr. Cross looked past me at Lucia. "The battery is failing?" "It's overloaded. We need the trainers to drain it." "Sarah and Marcus left yesterday. Emergency in another territory." One guard stepped forward. "We're authorized to take the child into protective custody until the situation is stabilized."

Scarlett clicked open the full file. The terminal whirred softly. A new document appeared. Transfer Notes Confidential Her eyes scanned the text. Subject Seven demonstrates exceptional early cognitive response and adaptive emotional resilience. The maternal guardian insists transfer is necessary for long-term protection. Protection. Her breath caught. Protection from what? Dominic leaned closer. "There's another page." Scarlett opened it. A recorded voice file blinked on the screen. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The date was fifteen years old. Her trembling finger pressed play.

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.'"

The doctor and nurse stood quietly, watching us, not interrupting, but listening. “It seems you know this person, too,” the doctor said, her eyes looking at me. “Do you know what happened?” “She hasn’t told me everything,” I said. “And I don’t want to force her.” The doctor studied Daniela for a long second. “Who could do this to her that she is so terrified” “Mr. Fourth,” I said without thinking about what that name could do if the words get out The doctor’s brows drew together. “Do you mean Albert Fourth, owner of Nexuses?

And in the furthest Council vault the old servers began to fry, spontaneously, violently. An operator yelled. Sector 4 is gone! Another was crying, Memory banks are killing themselves, data is rewriting! it is playing on her name!” It was the final screen flashing: Breach of PRIMARY SUBJECT. SUBJECT SEVEN: SYNC 46 %. ZERO PROTOCOL… MERGING.

I opened the folder. Inside were incident reports from other universities. Students with "extraordinary abilities" who'd lost control. Photographs of destruction, entire buildings collapsed, burn patterns that didn't match any known accelerant, people frozen solid in the middle of summer. And at the center of it all, casualty reports. Hundreds of deaths attributed to "supernatural awakenings." "Oh my God," Miguel breathed, reading over my shoulder. The final document was a psychological evaluation of Maya Cross, dated three weeks ago. The conclusion made my blood run cold:

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.