Carnage Mcu Novels & Stories

I was a monster, and someone had tried to take my reason for living. The scene of the ambush was a vision from hell. It was on a quiet, tree-lined street, the kind of street where nothing bad is ever supposed to happen. It was a scene of total carnage. Two of my armored cars were wrecked, riddled with bullet holes. The street was littered with shattered glass, shell casings, and the bodies of Falcone’s men. And the bodies of some of my own. I didn't see them. My eyes were searching, frantically, desperately, for one thing. For her.

Meanwhile, Carla was in the thick of the fight on the other side of the battle. Her gun was blazing as she led her men with fearless resolve into the fray, her voice hoarse from shouting, "Hold the line! We've bled too much to give up now!" It was a ferocious fight, the product of their shared disdain for one another. As daylight came, streets lay scattered with leftovers of battle-ash, wrecked automobiles, smashed glass panes, blood-splattered pavement-and a city still had all its wounds; and it could already remember to view streets grimly against all this as overnight's carnage spilled on it. Smoky haze emanated from burned automobile hulls and morning air held that burning sensation, sha

Alpha Marcus rushed to Gunnar's side, but as soon as he got there he could smell the silver that was coming from his open wound, which could explain why he wasn't healing. Pack members were desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but they were unsuccessful and in the end Gunnar told them to stop. He knew there was no use in trying because of the silver poisoning his body. Alpha Marcus stepped forward and took hold of Gunnar's hand, hoping to ease his pain slightly, but in the end Gunnar had lost so much blood that he died in his Alpha's arms.

​But as the dust cloud rolled through the chamber, a sharp, metallic ping echoed from the top of the rubble pile. ​Through the settling concrete powder, the crumpled door of the lead armored truck burst open. A figure crawled out onto the twisted chassis—his face wrapped in bloody, torn medical gauze, his single exposed eye burning with a frantic, vengeful madness that defied the sub-zero chill. ​Marcus Kane didn't look at the stabilized network. He didn't look at the vanguards. He raised a heavy, high-impact carbon pistol with his remaining three fingers, his sights locking directly onto Vivian’s exposed back as she reached the transport sled.

he whispered to them, “You’re safe now, I promise.” I saw the flat cap that Elias had taken to wearing recently on the floor and bent to pick it up. I sighed and looked around the carnage in the room. There must have been eight, maybe ten vampires in here. All dead now, of course. This was the part I didn’t like, the cleanup. It was okay when I worked for the Council, a governing organisation for the supernatural community. They had a cleanup department for this kind of shit. Unfortunately, since I hadn’t set foot in any of the Council places in the last six months, I was pretty sure they would tell me to fuck off if I asked for assistance. Plus add that this was technically an unsanctioned

Alpha Zane blinked his eyes open, the world around him a blurred whirlwind of chaos and fire. His head throbbed painfully, his ears ringing from the deafening blast that had thrown him across the hedge maze. Smoke clung to the air, mingling with the acrid scent of blood and burning wood. “They pushed and cornered us in the hedge maze,” he mumbled. His sharp gaze quickly focused on the devastation unfolding before him. The barricade was breached. The armored vehicle and the tank advanced unconcerned that there were bodies on the ground and some of them were still alive.

The roar of The Titan’s engines was a primal scream tearing through the digital silence of Metro City. It wasn’t just an armored truck; it was a symbol, a rolling declaration of war against the unseen forces that had sought to harvest their city. Behind it, a convoy of modified Krauser Kartel muscle cars and sleek Phoenix Mafia stealth vehicles carved a path through the deserted streets, their headlights cutting through the artificial twilight. Chester Smith stood in the Titan’s command module, his face grim, illuminated by the tactical displays.

With a determined glint in his eye, Butcher left, his mind already racing with possibilities. Different cars drove into the pack, filling the grounds with an array of vehicles. MC children and heirs arrived at the Reapers clubhouse, some heading directly to the bar to enjoy themselves, others resting from their travels, and some touring the grounds. The MC’s popularity had soared since Venom and Virus were announced as Alphas of their respective packs.

The Blueprint of Revenge Kane gestured, and the holographic display shifted to show Ethan’s known connections: Leah, Alexander, remnants of Waterfront Tower’s survivors, and several companies Ethan had quietly begun acquiring with his System’s guidance. “First,” Kane said coldly, “we strip away his foundation. Every ally, every business venture, every safe haven—burn it all. If he builds, we tear it down.” “Second,” he continued, his eyes gleaming, “we unleash the Carrion Network.” A murmur rippled through the council. The Carrion Network was infamous: a decentralized army of mercenaries, hackers, and killers bound together by the promise of money and chaos. Unlike the Shadow Division, which

Thorne's POV “Did you make sure every one of them is dead?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silent night air like a blade. Silas, my Beta nodded. “Yes, Alpha Thorne. We made sure to clear them all. Not a single rogue is left breathing.” As much I wanted to believe him, I couldn't. I needed to cross check myself. So I started walking towards the forest. I’ve learned—never take anyone’s word as truth. In my world, I don't get to sleep with my both eyes closed.