Scp-668 Novels & Stories

“I told you… just ten seconds, Mavric. I… I was counting every single one.” The Metropolitan Police Service and MI6 counter-terrorism units finally secured full control of the abbey. Lucas Thorne and Sebastian Vane were handcuffed and dragged away. As Lucas was led past Mavric and Liora, he paused for a moment, his face a picture of utter defeat and ruin. “This isn’t over yet, Mavric,” he rasped in a broken voice. “The secrets of the Scorpion project aren’t kept only here in this church. There is a facility in Zurich… a facility managed by your other mother.”

“There's something not right about the boy. Why doesn't anyone know who he is? Why does he call himself Six, for heaven's sake?” My dad asked. “Ellie could find out for you,” Noah smirked. I choked on a pea. “I'm sorry, what? ” Yes! She could prove that you're worried for nothing!" Violet said excitedly. My dad scowled. ”I don't like the idea of her getting close to him.” Thank you, Daddy, for never failing me! “Come on, dad? What does she have to lose?” Noah asked. “She's sitting right here, and she doesn't like the idea either!” I commented. “She doesn't seem to have a choice since she is probably on his watch list now anyway." Noah smiled.

The hospital room was no longer a sanctuary of white linens and sterile silence; it had become the Zero-Point of a biological invasion. As the "Real" Elara sat upright, her spine popping with the rhythmic crackle of a reconfiguring skeleton, the golden light in her eyes spilled out like liquid mercury. She wasn't just a girl waking from a coma; she was a Living Server, a biological vessel hosting the condensed essence of the Primal Six.

“What do you mean?” Marla tapped her keyboard. On the screen appeared a registration document. Not legal. Medical. Anita read it aloud. “‘Subject: SB-001. Genetic viability: confirmed. Psychological profile: compliant with conditioning. Intelligence quotient: stable. Risk level: dormant.’” Nathan blinked. “She’s not a person to them. She’s a project.” Ethan added, “They’ve been monitoring her since she disappeared. And guess where she was for the last six months?” Marla’s voice was grim. “A Rothschild psychiatric facility in Prague. Off the books. Not for treatment. For reprogramming.”

I held her tighter. She fell asleep curled next to me on the couch, bunny in hand, breath slow and untroubled. I stared at the ceiling, every crack and beam suddenly suspicious. Cameron handed me a tablet with decrypted logs. The intrusion had followed a trail used by Irenic years ago specifically, one linked to Delta-Six. That name punched a hole in my chest. Delta-Six was supposed to be dead.