Breaker 3 Novels & Stories

“I think Sammy could take a whack at it.” Well, remembering Hercules’s adventures from stories, he had lifted a sky once. My friends were right. It could be possible to break an adamantite with my super-strength. However, the three older braves cocked their brows. “Ah, I forgot you’re still newcomers,” Raja said. “Adamantite is indeed unbreakable, but there is a hazard if a power brave like Sam and Marseille’s hammer breaks even a tiny piece.” “What kind of hazard?” Brock asked. “They’ll explode.”

Marcus hissed, his voice a broken, distorted record, "then no one can!" He didn't try to pull the lever back. He tried to **Break** it. With a roar of corporate spite, Marcus slammed a piece of heavy machinery into the lever. The lever snapped. The "Dump" sequence failed. The Core let out a sound like a thousand suns exploding. "**CRITICAL OVERLOAD. INITIATING: TOTAL SECTOR DELETION.**" I looked at the broken lever. I looked at the screaming sphere of light. And then, I looked at the "Developer Key" pencil in my pocket.

Crash! A sharp, violent crack ripped through the sterile silence of the office. The remote control, a sleek, expensive piece of brushed metal, flew from James’s hand with terrifying force. It spun through the air like a deadly projectile, arcing across the vast room before shattering against the far wall, splintering into a dozen jagged fragments that clattered against the marble floor. The sound, sharp and final, seemed to echo his internal rage.

For Breaker would not let go. “My turn,” Breaker’s voice wasn’t the small, cute voice Abe was used to, but carried a deep tone that didn’t belong to the little assassin. Although his eyes were still pitch black, now they carried some emotion. As if mocking the young prince Breaker let go of his hammer and struck so quickly that he was back to holding the giant hammer in less than a second. The weapon didn’t even look like it had been abandoned for a millisecond. And before Abe knew what was going on he had been struck right in his chest.

The Breakage With a movement that defied the physics of the room, Silas closed the distance between them. Francis raised the neck of the bass guitar to block the strike, but Silas’s boot caught him squarely in the chest, launching him backward into one of the massive, twelve-foot glass panels that gave the fortress its name. The impact was spectacular. The glass didn't just crack; it exploded outward into the canyon night, a waterfall of diamond-like shards that caught the moonlight as they fell into the dark.

~TORIN~ Burdock didn’t waste words. “Deploying at oh-six hundred,” he said through the secure line. The connection crackled faintly, but his voice was clear, clean, the kind of calm that came from living inside crisis long enough to make it routine. “Three-day window. Hard break.” I sat on the edge of the bed in the back room of the Ravens, phone pressed to my ear, my free hand tightening around my knee until I felt the joint protest. “Copy,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

I questioned. “I wanted to see you.” “You sure?” I’d like to say I was teasing him, but I couldn’t force my tone to not be serious. His eyebrows bunched together at my question. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “I don’t know. You tell me.” Dmitry shouted to Maci from across the room. “Hey Maci…Danica’s going on break.” “Hey! I’m working here.” “I know. And now you are on break.” I sighed and crossed my arms. Not wanting to put up a fight, I walked from behind the counter and joined him at a corner table.

A man's voice. Breaking.

I did break so much of rules for him and I never regret that. And now when I see him, I feel proud that I broke those rules of my own. When I feel him on my arms I feel that sometimes breaking your rules bring you happiness in life along with the risks and sometimes when you break the rules, unexpected result might show up and might take your life to next level.

Mum rasped out in a nasal tone and splashed beer on me. before I could answer, I heard a car pull up outside. The sound was out of place—too sharp, too foreign for our quiet, dying street. I peered through the broken blinds just in time to see Chiara slam her car door and storm up the front steps. “Damn it,” I hissed. I turned back to my mother. She was already raising another bottle. “Get into your room,” I whispered She blinked, nonplussed. “In. your.room.”