Scp-992 Novels & Stories

“There’s a supermarket and a few restaurants downstairs. The subway station is about a five-minute walk to the right. If you need anything, contact me anytime.” “Thank you, Cecilia.” “Don’t thank me too quickly.” She walked to the door before turning back around. “The Anderson family doesn’t keep useless people around. The value of what you brought depends on what value you can create for us next.” After the door closed, the room fell silent. I stood by the window and looked at the scattered ship lights across the ocean in the distance. Suddenly, I had a sense of unreality. Just over ten hours ago, I had still been trapped inside that gilded cage in Corholt, ordered around by a man who treat

Catherine looked at the rescued subjects. "The tribunal asked the survivors if they wished to make statements regarding your sentence. Twenty-two of the twenty-three declined. They said they had nothing more to say to you. They wanted only for you to disappear from their lives. But one survivor did wish to speak. Subject 92, would you please stand?" A man rose. Mid-forties. Scarred from radiation experiments. Blind in one eye from neural enhancement attempts. "Subject 92 is Dr. Richard Chen. He was genetic researcher before the freeze. Captured in 2015. Imprisoned for nine years. Used for experiments because Hammond valued his scientific knowledge. Dr. Chen, please address the tribunal."

The stranger’s voice roared now. You will destabilize global systems. You will cause economic shock. You will create casualties. Isabella’s eyes filled but did not spill. Then let humanity decide how to recover. Not you. Ninety nine percent. Her thumb hovered over. The chamber vibrated violently. The synchronization bar froze at ninety nine. Waiting for completion. Or interruption. Alexander whispered. Choose. Isabella pressed confirm. The chamber exploded with white light. Every screen shattered into static. The synchronization bar disappeared. Emergency reset initiated.

“Here. Write something. Anything. Please.” He stared at me for what felt like forever. Then, slowly, he reached for the stone. With shaking hands, he dragged it across the wall. The number 999. That was all. I stared at the crude digits, my pulse quickening. “What does that mean?” Before I could puzzle it out, Lyra moved past me. She gestured for one of the children to come closer. A girl, no older than eight, stepped forward timidly. Then Lyra did something that froze me in place.

Red lights began to flash at the corners of the ceiling. "Containment breach. Sub-level 9. All Security Cadre to emergency stations." The voice on the speaker was no longer flat. It was sharp with urgency. Sub-level 9. The central filtration. The heart of the Citadel's lungs. Kael's schematics flashed in Liora's mind. The door to their bunkroom hissed open. A guard stood there, his face tight. "All Medical Auxiliary, report to the Bay. Now. Expect casualties." The women scrambled out of their bunks. Liora’s heart was a drum. This was the eruption. This was the crack breaking open.

I turned the tablet toward him. On the screen was a photo of a glass incubator. Inside, a tiny, translucent shape was floating in amber fluid. PROJECT HARBINGER: SUBJECT 02. STATUS: VIABLE. "She has another one?" Richard’s voice was a whisper of pure horror. "She has a lab in the city," I said. "And Richard... according to the timestamps, Subject 02 is due to wake up tonight." The ground beneath the estate began to rumble. A low, vibrating sound—not a wolf, but a machine.

"Check the safe behind Voss's portrait. It's... it's all there." Jeff's jaw tightened. "Trap." I was already moving. The portrait hung crookedly near the DNA sequencer—a younger Voss smirking beside a bassinet. The safe behind it opened with Nolan's keycode. Inside lay a single vial of blood and a leather-bound journal. The label on the vial read: Original Source - Daniela Perez. The journal fell open to a dog-eared page: *"The child resists the modifications. Her cellular structure rejects the enhancements. We must terminate and begin again with Subject D-29."*

No goodbye. Just shadows. --- Back at the safe house, I gave the note to Mira. She read it, and went pale. “What is it?” I asked. “She’s right,” Mira said. “We missed something. There’s a second system.” “Where?” “In the old medical wing. Sector 9. Abandoned for years.” “Then we go,” I said. “No,” Mira said. “*You* go. I have to stay here and cover you.” I hesitated. “Alright. But if I’m not back—”

he asked me with a c*cked brow. “Not suspecting, Caellum. I am certain that someone from the Sterling family was Subject 9. He didn’t die, but, somehow, he survived and decided to avenge himself or the other subjects who….. I don’t know, survived or..” I left the sentence midway. “And what if that Subject9 is not from the family but from their enemies, and somehow, the experiment converted him into a weapon that can erase them?” he speculated excitedly. I was marveled by his imagination.

“Run Or become the weapon.” Aurora grabbed Lila. “We’re not running.” She turned to the pods there were lots of them, each of them labeled with a date and a name in her mother’s handwriting, spidery and precise. Subject 001: Failure – 1998 Subject 002: Unstable – 2001 Subject 003: Aurora – 2003