Scp-565 Novels & Stories

She didn’t flinch—just spoke flatly. “Samuel. Don’t hover.” “Not hovering,” he muttered, spinning a screwdriver between his fingers. “Just... observing the sorceress at work.” Miriam rolled her eyes, pushing up her glasses. “You’re making the air tense.” He smirked faintly but stayed anyway. She found the file she was looking for. Timestamp: 9:47 p.m. Hallway 6A. Right at the entrance to House Six’s dorms. She slowed the footage. The grainy black-and-white flickered across her screen. David Huntsman, Adonis, and several of their lackeys moved with military-like coordination—silent, focused.

Her hands trembled as she stopped on a document marked: “Transfer Request — Bailey [Redacted] Original Facility: Kensington Biological Research” Beneath that, handwritten: “Subject authorized by L.S. Turner. Emergency override protocol. Must not be awakened until memory sequence clears.” Bailey stepped back from the desk, stunned. L.S. Turner. Lyla. She whispered the name aloud—and the lights above her flickered. Then everything went dark.

“Trying to control something that doesn’t want to be controlled.” Adrian stared at him for a long moment. “That makes two of you.” That night, Evelyn couldn’t sleep. The mark pulsed too steadily, like a metronome counting toward something inevitable. She opened the folder again, tracing the name R. Draven with her finger. Below it, a half-faded note: Subject exhibited secondary resonance. Suggest containment before phase two. Her phone buzzed. Unknown Number: Containment failed before. It will again. Her fingers tightened. Who are you? she typed.

The stillness before an unseen storm. “This place gives me the creeps,” Lucien muttered from the front, fingers twitching over his tablet. “Signal interference is unnatural. Even EMP scramblers don’t block this much.” “They’re jamming it from the inside,” Kira said. “Whatever’s in there, they don’t want anyone getting out.” Tariq checked his explosives pack. “Or maybe they’re keeping something in.” The crawler came to a halt at the edge of a rocky plateau, where a steel hatch lay buried in ice and stone—barely visible beneath decades of frost. The entrance to Site 6.

“Then maybe you’ll fall with them.” He turned and walked out of the room. I stood frozen, the silence roaring in my ears. But I didn’t leave. I waited until his footsteps faded, then I moved. I went straight to his private filing cabinet. The one he always said was “off-limits.” I found a key tucked inside his bottom drawer, typical arrogance. The cabinet creaked open. Inside were folders, names, project codes. One caught my eye: "S.F. Protocol 52, Identity Simulation Unit."

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?”

Five years of humiliation and five years of being less than a person… Had I even been like a human to them? “You two! Check that side!” Voices echoed from the yard. They were closing in. I snapped back to myself and tore down the mountain path as fast as my legs would carry me. Back in the city, I flagged down the first cab I could find and went straight home, to the place Melissa and I once called home. My steps froze when I pushed open the study door, it was filled with monitors, all displaying live feeds of the estate. Every room, every path, and even the stable that I’d slept in for five years, were displaying right in the middle of the screen.

It was glowing again, a frantic, warning violet. "It's a Divergent," David Vance said from his bunk, his voice filled with a new kind of terror. "An Architect that has been partially consumed by the Void. It’s a Biological Parasite now. It doesn't want the Key. It wants a host." The scratching sound moved to the hatch. The heavy steel wheel began to turn, the internal Pressure Seals (the rubber gaskets that keep water out) hissing as they were forced open from the outside. "It’s opening the door," Kazimir snarled. He shoved Elara behind him, his body becoming a literal shield between her and the hatch. "Mina, get the power back on! Now!"

"Explain. Fast." "The rift destabilized the local reality coordinates of the Penthouse," Catherine said, the sound of keyboard clacking furious in the background. "It's acting like a beacon. It's pulling things in from... elsewhere. Not just farm animals. We’re seeing spectral signatures that match the void entities we saw in the Arctic. Shadows. Things that eat light." "And Olivia?" "She's in the Panic Room, but the walls are vibrating. The entity is trying to phase through the titanium. Jack, you have to come back up. If that thing breaches the Panic Room..."

The Sixth Day As they sat in the quiet of the clinic, a final notification appeared on Elena’s tablet. It was a video file sent from an anonymous server in the Himalayas. It showed Alistair Vanderwall II standing in front of his Difference Engines. The gears were moving again, but they were slower, more melodic. "The Fifth Signature is the anchor," Alistair’s recorded voice said. "But a world in harmony is a world that invites curiosity. You have secured the Earth, children. Now... the stars are listening."