Scp-747 Novels & Stories

Lucas's name wasn't written anywhere. Instead, there was a code. GENESIS-01. Then beneath it: Viability confirmed. Genetic compatibility exceptional. Lucas's hands began shaking uncontrollably. "Why did they call me Subject Seven?" Hayes kept reading, his expression shifting slowly, becoming more tense with every line. "Because someone altered the records." "Who?" Hayes looked at the next page. A handwritten note appeared at the top, slanted and urgent. Do not allow Asterion to discover the modification.

"Before they settled on making copies of Chaewon, they tried making something new. Something perfect. I saw the files. The prototypes." "And?" Chaewon prompted. "They all went insane. The enhancements, the modifications—they worked physically. But psychologically? The subjects couldn't handle it. Broke down. Had to be terminated." "So Omega is unstable," Han said. "Maybe. Or maybe she's just really good at hiding it." Haeun pulled out a folded paper from her pocket. "I stole this from the Red Cell archives. Before I escaped. Didn't know what it meant then, but now..." She spread it on the table. A schematic. The human body overlaid with technological components. And in the center, a small de

“They didn’t destroy the prototypes. They stored them.” “And fed on them,” a new voice said behind them. Evryn spun. Someone had joined them on the lift. A tall, pale figure in a technician’s coat, eyes glowing with a dull amber light. But it wasn’t human. Not anymore. “I’m Iteration 07. They left me awake,” it said. Evryn narrowed her eyes. “Why?” “Because I remembered too much,” 07 said quietly. “And now, so will you.” Suddenly, the lift jerked to a stop. The platform doors slid open, revealing a spherical chamber filled with floating data glyphs, all spiraling around a monolithic core. It pulsed slowly, like a sleeping heart.

She didn't walk down the air; she phased through the dimensions, her form elongating and snapping back with a rhythmic, mechanical stutter. She wore a gown of vitrified soul-silk that trailed behind her like a comet’s tail. Her skin was the color of a dead moon, translucent and mapped with silver-mercury veins that glowed with a clinical, ultraviolet light. She had no face, only a single, glowing aperture in the center of her forehead—a lens that was currently recording the anatomy of our defeat. [ANOMALY IDENTIFIED: SECTOR 77-OBSIDIAN.] The voice didn't come from the speakers. It was a sonar pulse that bypassed the air and vibrated directly in my stone marrow. It was the sound of a cosmic c

He wasn't a student, and he wasn't a teacher. ​He was an Obsidian Scout, one of the elite few Darius had sent ahead of the main extraction team. ​"Subject 7—the Sterling girl—is showing increased heart rate and body temperature," the scout whispered into his comms. "The digital sabotage by the local alpha-female is working. The subject's emotional distress is triggering her essence." ​"Good," a voice crackled back—Darius’s voice, cold and distant. "Let her simmer. We need her power to reach a peak before we move. What about the Commander?"

She was not a human listener. The hybrid child was still in the Rookeries. Isla Reid's eastern shelter, third floor, room with the reinforced lock. Sarah had confirmed the location. The Hermetic Order wanted it for the program. Parliament would provide cover, call it a welfare check, authorized removal of a minor supernatural without appropriate guardian documentation. Forty-eight hours. That was the timeline she caught before the conversation shifted to something else. She set her untouched glass on the nearest surface and walked toward the exit at the pace of someone who had remembered another obligation, unhurried, purposeful, unremarkable.

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."

Her mother looked terrified. “No.” Lucien grabbed Seraphina’s hand. “What?” She stared at the screen. The archive began transferring files. Not to Alessandro. Not to Gabriel. To an unknown location. Then a final message appeared: SUBJECT FOUR HAS TAKEN CONTROL OF THE ARCHIVE. Seraphina’s breath caught. The speakers crackled. A familiar male voice filled the headquarters. “You wanted to know who I am.” Seraphina’s heart raced. The voice continued. “Now you’ll remember.”

Then another. "It’s not the Mother," Malakai whispered. His knuckles turned white. "Then who is it?" The terminal doors at the far end of the station creaked open. A man in a clean, white lab coat stepped through. He wasn't a wolf. He wasn't a hybrid. He was holding a remote detonator. "Subject 7B," the man said. His voice was projected through the station’s PA system. "The test period is over. Please step away from the civilian and return to your containment unit."

Subject designated for Memory Protocol 7 and civilian integration due to psychological instability concerns and Incident 17-B. *NOTE: Subject's genetic modifications remain active and transmissible to offspring. Monitoring to continue indefinitely. Re-acquisition may be necessary in future containment scenarios.* They didn't care if I had love or kids they wanted weapons. "Incident 17-B," I repeated aloud, searching the document for references to what this might have been. Several pages later, I found it, a heavily redacted entry with only fragments visible: