Scp-993 Romane & Geschichten

The man hung his head low, his fingers buried deep in his hair, carefully considering where I might have gone. As his eyes wandered, they suddenly fell upon the trash can nearby. Those pink fragments looked so familiar that the moment he saw them, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He slowly crouched down, not caring that the cream stains would dirty his sleeves. He picked up the pieces from the trash can bit by bit. Then, he carefully assembled them back together. There were exactly 99 reconciliation vouchers. He remembered five years ago, when he had looked at those vouchers and sincerely promised me, "Cecilia, don't worry. I'll never give you a reason to use them."

Confident. Leonard didn’t lower the gun. "You have five seconds to tell me who you are before I splatter your brains on the marble." She slowly unzipped the front of her jacket and pulled out a sleek ID card. She tossed it toward him. It skidded to a halt near his feet. Leonard kept his gun trained on her as he knelt to pick it up. He read it. CAMILA ROTH. INTERNAL INTELLIGENCE. SECTION 9.

Not since Elia. I open the encrypted drive I swore I’d never touch again. The one labeled Archive 7. It’s filled with fragments of reports, security logs, transfer records, every breadcrumb I collected after Elia vanished. And at the very end of it, a name I never could make sense of. Subject 29, Relocation Authorized. Custodian: S. Smith. The timestamp is fourteen years old. Same year as the photo. My stomach turns. I click open the attached document, heavily redacted, but one line remains clear:

Sweat and tears rolled down his face, yet he had no idea he was crying, nor did he register the sweat drenching his body like rain. "Ah, the beast has awakened," Nine said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he pulled open the top drawer on his right and yanked out a white envelope, which contained instructions Kaidën was all too familiar with. Nine approached the groaning man and handed him the envelope. "Go blow off some steam and return tomorrow for the conclusion of this meeting." Kaidën glanced at the envelope, his eyes scanning the name written in bold letters, knowing what orders lay within. He turned away without taking it from Nine, and in an instant, he vanished with incredible spe

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.”

Mabel turns the volume up to hear what the reporter is saying. “Three Eels have been detained so far in connection with this morning’s attack,” the woman is commenting from the studio, her voice is heard over the images captured by the cameraperson following the 9th Unit. “According to the information we have received so far, this place you are looking at is believed to be the hideout of the infamous Xander Norton. The brave Shark 9th Unit is about to go in. Due to the importance of this event, we will follow Commander Mortensen’s Sharks live as they take down our enemies, you will be able to see and hear these brave Sharks in real time as they protect us all.”

"Graves wasn't burying her life. He's financing the program that's doing this." Asher's jaw tightened. "You're sure?" Damien snapped a hazy picture—Graves, lab jacket, behind a partition of glass, Cassandra in the background. Asher's hands stirred. "Then we incinerate him first." They didn't sleep that night. They rebuilt. Reloaded. Recalibrated. Asher hacked into an Emberlight subnetwork, tracing shuttles left Facility Delta-9 in the last two months. There was one hit. "Transport TH-990, encrypted, doubled back, final destination: coordinates cleaned," Asher explained to him.

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—"

I stopped in front of the first one. A girl. No older than ten. My eyes. But softer. Unaware. Unbroken. Lucien whispered, “Can they be saved?” “I don’t know.” “Will they be like you?” “No,” I said. “They’ll be better.” We found the control room buried deep below. Monitors blinked. Life signs stable. Neural connections active. And in the center—an AI construct shaped like a woman. My mother’s voice. The Architect. “If you’re seeing this, IV-9, then you made the wrong choice.”

“I am glad you finally called.” “I accept your offer,” I said. “That research program in Zurich. When can I leave?” “Anytime. My people will wait for you at the airport. Are you sure? Once you leave, you cannot contact the outside world for three years. Of course, you also cannot return as the Donna of the Vitale family.” “I am sure.” I went back to the family mansion and packed in my room. There wasn't much. A few clothes. A small box with the baby's ultrasound. The only proof that my child had ever existed.