Crash And Carnage Novels & Stories

Sparks showered over them, blue and white flashes illuminating the madness of the struggle. ​I hit the final 'Enter' key. The screen turned a deep, visceral blood-red. DELETION IN PROGRESS. ​"It’s over!" I screamed, standing up and leveling my submachine gun at both of them. "Dante! Look at the screens! The Council is broke! There’s nothing left to buy, and no one left to pay!"

He walked away after. Vanessa bent down on the floor and sobbed a little. Suddenly, her face turned cold and stony and she shivered in rage. She can't go down like this. Kaylee would have to pay for this. Pay hard. * * *

“Biggest one yet. Their CEO happens to be in town. I’ll go meet his assistant and sign everything today. You don’t even have to show up.” I smiled for the first time in weeks. “Be careful,” I told her. “And don’t mention me.” She promised. That afternoon, she walked into the hotel where the meeting was set. But when the man across the table looked up, he froze. His name was Ryan — Luca’s personal assistant. The moment Ryan saw Clara, he froze. He knew that face — if his memory served him right, she was Valeria’s closest friend. According to the investigation, the private jet that “crashed” three months ago hadn’t gone down because of bad weather or engine failure.

The windows shattered with a deafening crash, glass spraying everywhere. Elena hit the floor before her brain caught up. Marco was already moving, gun drawn, phone pressed to his ear. He barked orders in Italian while bullets tore through the walls above her head. Elena froze for a moment, remembering her father’s body sitting just three feet away in that office. She realized she could be next.

[Tires screech ominously! [Crash!!!] ___ To be continued ___

Caspian once again cócked his gun ready. “I got this,” Killian said. And as the two cars were about to crash into them, Killian suddenly hit the brakes. The two cars crashed into each other so hard, the people inside were probably killed on impact. Glass and metal pieces exploded like confetti. And the next thing they knew, the two cars exploded into a fiery mess. “Fúck, yes!” Caspian laughed as the blast filled his eyes.

Something, probably a stone, punctured the rubber with brutal efficiency, and the car jolted violently, lurching to one side as the wheels shredded. My attempts to steer out of the impending disaster were futile. The car skids sideways, the rear end swinging out uncontrollably. In a moment of chaos, I see the world spin around me—a dizzying whirl of shattered glass and the horrific crunch of metal. The car crashes with a thunderous impact, sending debris flying in all directions. The force of the collision is merciless, throwing both me and Alec against the safety belts as the airbags deployed. The engine sputtered and died, the once powerful roar now reduced to a haunting silence.

A deafening bang echoed through the night, and my car jolted violently as one of my tires was blown out. I struggled to control the vehicle, but the slick roads and uneven wheels made it impossible. Suddenly, the Maserati rammed into me from the side, sending my car into a chaotic spin. The world tilted as the Rolls Royce somersaulted, the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filling the air. When the car finally came to a stop, it was upside down, steam rising from the wreckage. Pain shot through my body as I unbuckled my seatbelt and crawled out through the shattered window. Rain poured down on me, mixing with the blood dripping from a gash on my forehead.

I push it down , through my hands, into the building, into the screaming city bedrock. The effect is immediate. Vile. A wave of blight radiates out from our building. Not fire. Not ice. Decay . Pavement cracks, blackening like rotten teeth. Parked cars rust into orange dust in seconds. The nearest Pyre Cultist’s summoned flame gutters and dies, replaced by a creeping, grey mold that races up his robes. The frozen golem doesn't shatter. It crumbles , collapsing into a pile of lifeless, brittle sand. A wave of putrid, earthy stench rolls over us. The street below… dies. Plants wither. Metal corrodes. A localized scar of utter desolation.

"I said, you had good intentions with your resilience training—" "To hell with that fucking resilience training!" Dad suddenly roared at him like an angry wolf. He grabbed at the white chrysanthemum and slammed it right in the tycoon's greasy face. Then, he turned and charged toward the cameras that had been set up nearby and kicked the tripods to the ground with loud crashes. He acted like a madman. "Stop filming and get the fuck out of here! Fuck off, all of you!"