Scp-992 Novels & Stories

"The biological sensors are picking up a 'Culling Frequency' from the triangular ship. The creature is trying to detach itself from the peak. It wants to flee back into the dark!" ​"Hold it together, Harl!" I roared, my hands fusing with the central trunk of the Grove. ​I felt the mercury in my blood accelerate, the violet lattice pulsing with a new, intrusive stream of data. A window popped up on my internal HUD, a file I hadn't seen in a lifetime. It was a digital copy of my own medical residency papers from the university, annotated in a clinical, multifaceted script. ​Subject 09-Elara. Potential: High. Resistance to Conformity: Critical.

Countdown: T-minus thirty-one seconds. The female voice from the ceiling was calm, almost kind. “Termination protocol engaged. Subject Elias Hart-Resonance, Iteration Nine. Thirty seconds to neural cascade shutdown.” The replica, Nine, was on his knees in the server room doorway, fingers clawing at the back of his own neck like he could rip the kill switch out with his bare hands. Mara stood frozen between the two men who wore the same face. One perfect.

“Stronger this time.” Leon hesitated. “Stronger?” “She’s starting to become aware. It’s too soon.” I stared at her sleeping form. “I need something that makes it foggy. Something that fucks with the timeline. Short-term.” Silence on the other end. Then: “There’s a new compound they’ve been testing. N-93. Neurological scrambler. Messes up memory formation at the source. Should I send for it?” “Is it safe? Has it been tested?” I asked. Although it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.

No name. Just a velvet box with a thumb drive inside. She stared at it. And slowly—slowly—inserted it into her laptop. A video began to play. Fuzzy at first. Then clear. It was a man’s voice: “Asset 02-27-B. Subject shows exceptional memory retention and elevated spatial reasoning. We recommend placement under secondary family cover until Phase Three.” A woman’s voice interrupted. “She’s too young.” “But if we don’t move her now, they’ll find her. Claire already suspects.”

Her smooth, rounded body relaxed into me with no opposition. "This ends tonight," I said. And for an instant, I did. *** Meanwhile… Emmaline Shaw – Private Server Room, Underground Facility The emergency messages streamed across her screens in waves of cascading red. ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED PROTOCOL FAILURE - CODE X900 ASSET TRACE: INITIATED She looked at the cascade of information streaming in—Eric's scan had touched off an irreversible chain reaction. "Shut it down!" she exclaimed. "But ma'am—"

The summary made his blood run cold. Marker X-F*-9 Status: Classified (Linked to Project Fireblood) Location: Chromosome 2 / Sequence Region 17 Effects: Enhanced cellular regeneration, abnormally high neurological activity, pain threshold alteration. Subject exhibits genetic traits consistent with Project Fireblood prototype origin. Conclusion: Subject is carrier of Fireblood sequence. Recommend immediate containment and federal consultation. Damian read the last line three times. Recommend immediate containment. It wasn’t just a warning. It was a directive. He looked at Isabella, who hadn’t yet seen the report.

I needed the names of every person in this system — scout, seed, shadow killer. Because I wasn’t going to survive this place anymore. I was going to end it. “Where’s the master log?” I asked. Kyro wiped blood from his lip. “What?” “The full list. With names. Targets. Assignments. There’s always a main feed. Where is it?” He hesitated, then whispered, “Level Nine. Server vault under the infirmary wing. Locked with biometrics.” “Whose?” He gave me a name I didn’t expect.

"A Mother did." I turned toward the central pit. The mirrors were gone, shattered into a thousand pieces. In the center of the room, chained to a silver-lined slab, was Killian. He was human. His massive, black-wolf form was nowhere to be found. He lay on the slab, his skin pale and translucent, his ribs standing out sharply against his chest. His hair was white, not the blonde of a human, but the dead-white of a man whose soul had been bleached by the sun.

"Magnus's crest. And look at the serial number etched into the glass." ‎ ‎I peered closer. EXP-099-J. ‎ ‎"Experimental," I whispered. "Batch 99." ‎ ‎"This wasn't an accident, Celeste," Kaelen said, his voice hard. "They didn't just dump waste. Someone placed this in the stream. Upstream from our camp. They wanted to see how fast it would kill us." ‎ ‎He clenched his fist around the vial, looking like he wanted to crush it into dust.

The water around my chest carried the sound until I felt it in my ribs and teeth. Kael’s hand never left mine. Through the bond I felt the failsafe respond to the hum with a surge of cold recognition. Black flickered hard at the edges of his amber eyes and held there, fighting for more ground. The programming knew this place. Whatever waited ahead had been part of the original network that once owned him. “Talk to me,” I said, voice low so it would not carry back to the pursuit. “What is it answering?” “Old secondary containment grid,” he answered, the words strained. “The kind they used for the subjects who survived the first rounds but were too unstable for the upper labs. The hum is the g