Scp-971 Novels & Stories

I almost lost control today in her apartment and if she saw the brutality I was capable of when I had no control Dea would fear me till the day she drew her last breath. "That complicates things. I'm sure we can find a way to scare him. We could always use the little bloodsucker. I'm sure he and Lilith wouldn't mind some fresh, hot blood," Quade chuckled at his morbid idea and, even I had to admit, it was a good plan, "you do remember who they are?" "I remember," I admitted, "I've worked with each one of the council members individually to have slight memories of them so Sydney wasn't around all the time."

As the Static Blanket dissolved, the vacuum left behind was filled with a new kind of sound, a high-pitched, metallic whine that vibrated in the teeth of every shifter in the city. ​Leo Vane stood in the center of the Chiyoda plaza, his boots crunching on the glass shards of the Ghost-Tower. Around him, millions of people were stumbling out of buildings, clutching their heads, their neural-links glowing white-hot as they disconnected from the Architect’s grid. ​"Leo, we have to move," Ren shouted, his eyes fixed on his frequency-mapper. "The Shadow Council isn't just sending drones. They’ve triggered Protocol 99." ​"What is Protocol 99?" Maya asked, her golden Force flaring as she shielded a

N Protocol - Subject 07" Her hands trembled as she opened it. A series of medical reports filled the screen growth charts, DNA enhancements, emotional suppression records. And the she saw it. Subject Name: Aurora Collins Status: Contained - Relocation initiated Located: Facilty Delta - Sector 9 Jessica covered her mouth, tears flooding her eyes. Aurora. That was her baby's name. The one she'd whispered before the world burned. Behind her, the faintest creak of floorboards broke the silence. She spun, weapon drawn but her breath hitched when she saw the figure emerging from the shadows.

Elara watched the Eiffel Tower disappear in the rearview mirror, a skeleton of iron losing its grip on the sky. She wasn't a victim. She wasn't a witness. She was the architect now. As the car accelerated toward the coast, a single red light blinked on the dashboard. A transmission from the remaining Syndicate cells. Code Black. The Asset has been compromised. Initiate Protocol 9. Elara didn't reach for the radio. She didn't look for a weapon. She just tightened her grip on the child and stared into the rising sun. "Protocol 9," she whispered to the empty air.

logic beneath the sanitization. A voice echoed from the white walls—the same harmonious, terrifying chord from before. "Alpha-Regent Silas Blackwood. You are identified as a Primary Contaminant. Your rejection of the Sovereign unit created the initial entropy. You are a chaotic variable that cannot exist in the Second Phase. Please remain still for decommissioning."

My throat tightened as I clicked a video file labeled: Prototype 7. The footage flickered to life. Maria sat behind a sleek desk, her expression calm and deliberate. “The subject Scarlett Maria Devereux exhibits strong adaptive instincts, emotional volatility, and high persuasion thresholds. Predicted outcome: ideal candidate for control transfer.” Control transfer. I scrolled to the next document a contract signed under Damien Cole’s name, dated before Maria’s death. Subject assigned: Scarlett M. Devereux. Objective: integrate emotional dependency and ensure asset compliance. I couldn’t breathe.

"Once you enter the inner camp, your number is your only identification." Hayley took the bands. No. 7913, No. 7914. The numbers stirred a memory: the level-six mental-variant zombie at the castle, labeled No. 3. "Don't lose it." The voice came softly from A51. Hayley looked at her. But the woman had already returned to her detached routine, calling the next name as if nothing had happened. "Come on," Winona said, taking Hayley's hand and pulling her forward. Behind them, A51's voice stayed flat and mechanical as she continued registering the others.

That wasn’t synthetic. Neither was mine. A soft tone interrupted the silence. New notification. Not from the apartment. From my tablet. I crossed the room slowly and picked it up. The screen displayed a single classified document. PROJECT ORPHEUS Behavioral Synchronization Trial – Phase III Primary Objective: Emotional Dependency Pairing for Executive Stabilization My blood went cold. Below it— Subject A: Reid, Shawn Subject B: Agreste, Catriona Status: Convergence Successful Shawn went utterly still behind me.

I had bought a very specific piece of intelligence from a corrupt Council Clerk before the storm hit. "There is no need to draw your weapons, Officer," I said, my voice smooth, cold, and entirely level. I didn't step back. Instead, I leaned slightly forward, locking my eyes onto the lead guard’s identification badge. Commander Zack. "The machine didn't fail," I whispered, keeping my tone low enough that only a werewolf’s enhanced hearing could catch it over the wind. "The identity bound to Mask 99 is under an absolute proxy seal by the Northern High Vault. If you force a hard reset on that console, the biometric lock will flag this entire sector as a security breach. And I don't think your c

"It's off. Evie, it's off." "Good." She didn't move. She kept the glass pressed to her stomach. The Cleaner stepped onto the bottom floor. "Protocol 9 is still active," he said. "What?" I looked up. "The deactivator stops the explosion," the Cleaner said. He picked up the surgical saw. It began to whir with a high-pitched, bone-chilling scream. "It does not stop the harvest. The mother is redundant." He lunged. I fired. The bullet sparked off his shoulder plating.