Scp-471 Novels & Stories

Dark Soldiers’ Base – Holding Room Elliot stood before the bank of monitors in the control room, his reflection a grim mask in the glass. On the screens, six young men lay on simple cots in a sterile white room, each with a dull metallic bracelet clamped around one wrist. “We’re missing one,” Elliot said, his voice low. Amy stood beside him, her tablet in hand. “Yes, sir. The seventh signature. It’s… erratic. Fades in and out. The profile fits the historical parameters for the entity code-named ‘Shadowalker.’ How do we find him?”

"Deployed to Geneva. Target: European Alpha Conclave scheduled to meet in seventy-two hours. Three pack leaders in one location... eliminate them, and you decapitate European supernatural power structure." "Subject 4-A, callsign 'Oracle.' Cairo. Target: Matriarch Amina of the African Witch Council. She's the only witch powerful enough to coordinate continental magical defense." "Subject 5-A, callsign 'Ghost.' Singapore. Target: Lord Takeshi, ancient vampire who controls Asian supernatural black markets. Cut off his network, and you isolate Asian vampires from global alliances."

Sirens in the distance wailed—and then abruptly stopped. Jack tightened his grip on the wheel. “They’re rerouting emergency services,” Vesper said. “Great.” “You have about fifteen minutes before a drone picks up your license plate.” Jack cursed. “You some kind of hacker?” “No. Just observant.” She winced. “You have anything to drink?” “Glovebox. Water bottle.” She sipped. “Thanks.” He eyed her ID band again. SUBJECT 42. Skin discolored under it. “How long were you down there?”

I finished his sentence for him. Trav let out a breath. "Bring Dad." After Sara had taken some time to get settled in her new position, she finally began her search for Alpha Vic's minions that had done the dirty work for him while he was in the board meeting with Trav and my dad. It hadn't taken long. She'd only started searching the prior day. I mean, it couldn't be too hard when you had an alpha aura.

Something that didn't belong in a "Real World." A **Titan** stepped out of the shadows. It was thirty feet tall, its body made of rusted iron and pulsing violet tubes. It had the face of a man, but the eyes were giant searchlights. On its chest, a large silver logo was etched into the metal: **AETHEL-GROUP: ASSET RECOVERY**. "Subject 01 and Donor 04," the Titan’s voice boomed, sounding like a thousand speakers blowing out at once. "You have exceeded your 'Independence' quota. Please remain still while your 'Conflict Data' is harvested."

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."

*Test subjects. Aleksandr stepped forward, studying the nearest chamber. The label read: SUBJECT 017 – STATUS: ACTIVE Suddenly, the figure’s eyes snapped open. A sharp alarm blared through the lab. Elena’s heart pounded. “We need to move, now.” Hydra’s Trap Above ground, Dante and Luca had infiltrated the facility’s control center. Screens flickered with security feeds—guards mobilizing, alarms flashing red. Luca swore. “They knew we were coming.”

I made it to the metal doors and slipped inside just as the hallway fell silent again. What I found inside was rows of glass chambers. Each holding a person. But their eyes… God. Their eyes weren’t alive. They stared blankly, mouths slightly parted, arms limp by their sides. Like life had been ripped out of them, like their minds had been… erased. And on the wall, a monitor pulsed with brainwave patterns, spikes and dips that didn’t match anything human. I stepped closer. “Test Subject #47 – Cognitive Override Complete” “Test Subject #50 – Response to Pain Stimulus: Null”

"Don't attack. Just... find them." As they closed their eyes, the room seemed to bend. Shadows stretched, and for a fleeting second, I saw a ghostly image projected onto the glass wall: a man in a white lab coat, sitting in a dark basement, hunched over a bank of monitors. He was typing a command labeled Extraction Protocol: 0400. My blood turned to ice. They weren't waiting for the morning. They were planning to move in four hours.

The machine was screaming at him to reset, but the memory was anchored to his core. "I... I can't," he choked out, his voice returning to the resonance and tone of the boy she once knew. ​Up in the command room, the Architect’s monitors flared red. Intruder detected. Subject 44 exhibiting non-linear behavioral response. Biological distress markers at maximum. ​"The intruder is at the terminal," the system announced to the room. "Clara is alive." ​I realized my mistake the moment the signal ended. The frequency had been traced. As I scrambled to shut down the transmitter, the monitors in my basement erupted with alarms.