Scp-713 Novels & Stories

“Scarlett’s proxies aren’t just programs—they’ve hijacked agencies, assets. Digital and flesh.” “Which means she’s not dead,” Liam said, jaw clenched. “She’s not alive either,” Tamar added from across the room. “We’re dealing with a consciousness embedded in code. A synthetic shadow of her mind.” Richter stepped forward, grim as ever. “We need to strike before she stabilizes.” I looked up. “How?” He tapped the map projected on the center table. “A fragment of her was traced to the Zenith Vault in Zurich. If she consolidates her presence there, she can rebuild physically.”

I had to maintain the feral act until the moment came to drop it. So I threw myself against the cage bars with renewed fury, roaring and snarling like the alarms had triggered some primitive fear response. The vampires barely glanced at me - just another caged animal reacting to loud noises. "Protocol Seven," the third vampire announced, checking his weapon. "Secure all assets, prepare for extraction if necessary." "What about the specimen?" the blonde asked, gesturing toward my cage. Marcus hefted the metal rod like a weapon. "Orders are to terminate if rescue seems likely. Can't let werewolf intelligence networks get their hands on what we've learned about consciousness suppression."

"Do you read?" Static. Then Kenji's voice, breaking up.ZERO: ...interference... massive energy spike... at the bottom... "Where is the Chairman?" ZERO: He's... inside the energy field. Level B-10. The Throne Room.But Sebastian... be careful. The readings... they aren't fully biological. It's like the Meteorite, but... conscious. Sebastian looked at Harper. "One last jump?" Harper looked at the rappelling cables hanging in the shaft. "After you, old man."

The vibration hit my throne like a kinetic strike, rattling the copper sutures in my chest. "Mommy?" Leo’s voice was a fragile thread. He stood in the center of the Grand Hall, his small shoulders hunched inside his shredded peacoat. He wasn't looking at the Unlearned stacking the stones. He was looking at the ceiling speakers. The high-frequency hum of the city's grid suddenly died, replaced by a tonal resonance that tasted of liquid nitrogen and clinical erasure. [ANOMALY IDENTIFIED: SECTOR 77-OBSIDIAN.]

she rasped, her voice sounding like two stones grinding together. ​She wasn't alone. Standing over her was a man in a dark tactical bodysuit, his face obscured by a high-tech visor. He didn't have a family insignia, but I recognized the gear. The Scourge. The man didn't even look at me. He was reaching for a heavy, pneumatic injector on his belt. "Subject 07 is entering a terminal flare," he said into his comms. "Requesting immediate extraction and sedation. The project is unstable." ​The coldness of it, the way they spoke about children as if they were faulty machinery, sent a wave of white-hot fury through my veins.

"Bypass authorization. Terminate both targets." Nora’s real eye suddenly locked onto mine with a fierce, terrifying clarity. The milkiness vanished for a split second, replaced by the sharp, desperate intelligence of the woman who had protected me for two decades. She reached out with her mechanical hand, her fingers clamping around my bloody shoulder. She didn't squeeze. She pulled me close, her synthetic lips moving as she forced a fractured, high-speed whisper through the static of her vocoder. "Run... underground labs... Section Seven... the child... the child lives, Elena..."

“Then we run. Now.” “We can’t outrun what’s inside me.” “No,” he said quietly, lifting my chin. “But we can outrun the people trying to use it.” Before I could respond, a sharp beep cut through the air. The sigil on my wrist flickered And a voice spoke directly inside my mind: “Subject 07. Report for retrieval.” The room went ice-cold. Alex froze. I did too. Because the next words weren’t to Project Rebirth. They were to him. “Bring her home, Alexander.” And I recognized the voice. Perfectly. My mother. Alive.

"Damian, look at this," I said, showing him the thermal imaging data. "Nine warm bodies in the facility. But vampires only documented eight children." "Could be staff. Vampire caretaker or security." "Thermal signature reads as child-sized. Human temperature patterns. And look at the location, it's isolated from both the protected children and the vampire personnel. Separate containment." I cross-referenced the data with Chrysalis Initiative records I'd managed to access through Guardian channels. Looking for any child matching the ninth presence. Any documentation of enhanced individuals with Elara's specific consciousness profile.

The shards of metal that had fallen into the sea were vibrating, glowing with a sickly, rhythmic blue. "The government..." Jinyan wheezed, his face contorting in pain. "They didn't just find the signature. They... they hijacked the frequency. They’re using the displacement field to anchor us. They’re turning my failsafe into a vacuum." The black gunships hovered directly overhead now. A voice boomed from the lead vessel, amplified to a deafening, metallic roar. "SUBJECT 0-1. ARCHITECT JINYAN. FOURTH GENERATION. YOU ARE UNDER CIVILIAN DECOMMISSIONING. CEASE ALL NEURAL ACTIVITY OR TOTAL PURGE WILL BE INITIATED."

Elias lifted his head— and saw Kass typing rapidly at a console. “What are you doing?!” Alexander shouted. Kass smiled coldly. “Ending this chapter.” She pressed the final key. A deep alarm shook the chamber. CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL: SELF-PURGE INITIATED. Alexander’s eyes widened. “Oh no. NO—NO—LENA, GET UP—WE HAVE TO MOVE—” Sable’s voice crackled over the intercom from somewhere above. “Alex! Elias! The entire level is about to detonate! They’re purging Sub-Level Seven!”