Dead Pool Novels & Stories

"Get the road crew. Whatever is left of the nomads. Tell them it’s open season. No tags. No colors. We go in black." "We burning them out?" Markos asks. "We are liquidating the assets," Drakon says. "If it has a Reaper skull on the door, it burns. If a man walks out of it, he drops." I sit up in the bed. My head spins, but the fog of the drugs is lifting. The smell of copper—blood from the IV, blood from the fight—mixes with the stale smoke clinging to Drakon’s leather. "You're leaving," I say.

TIME: 03:00 HOURS. LOCATION: SECTOR 8 - THE "DEEP SUMP." STATUS: EXILE. They didn't find a spaceship to whisk them away. They didn't find a secret rebel base with hot food and soft beds. They found sewage. Ren Walker, formerly the top sniper in Aegis Online and briefly a millionaire, was currently wading through thigh-deep sludge in the lowest drainage tunnels of Aethelgard. This was the Deep Sump—the subterranean intestine where all the city's chemical runoff, biological waste, and industrial slurry flowed before it was pumped out to the dead ocean.

A hidden directory titled 'Project 99% Mother. Kael’s digital pulse stuttered. The file was a stratigraphic map of every woman the Council had ever used as an anchor. It wasn't a list of heroes. It was a ledger of casualties. He swiped through the names, and the horror of it rippled through the city’s grid, causing the Grand Hall’s lights to strobe a sickly, necrotic violet. Unit 1: Brain death at forty percent petrification. Unit 3: Systemic marrow collapse. Unit 8: Neural extraction failed.

“I won’t let him touch you. Or our son. I don’t care what realm burns.” A tear slid down Sarai’s cheek. “You’re scaring me.” Malik’s expression broke. “Good. Because fear will keep you alive.” The tunnels trembled—slow at first, then violently. Aunt Dee appeared from the shadows, hand glowing with a shimmering purple sigil. “There’s no time. Azrael’s Archers have breached the second gate.” Sarai frowned. “Archers?” Aunt Dee nodded grimly. “Soulless assassins. Faster than the Starved Ones, smarter, and ten times harder to kill.”

She started planning for Elena's third death anniversary. Katie viewed the third death anniversary with great importance. It signified a closure point of the grieving process, and it was a significant occasion for the older generations. It was two weeks to Elena's third death anniversary. Ariel still had time to prepare.

Dante asked and took the phone from Dell but as soon as he looked at the phone it slowly fell from his hand, “The Alpha King Of Black Wolves Pack is dead”

I received an invitation as soon as I logged in. I accepted it, but I didn’t expect that my teammate would be Dark Death. He put on very nice equipment, which would help the character a lot in the game. Lucifer: “?” Dark Death: “Instance zone?” Lucifer: “Which one?” Dark Death: “Death Valley.” Lucifer: “Okay!” System: “Leader Dark Death has opened Death Valley’s instance zone. Please enter as soon as possible.” We all entered the instance zone. Dark Death had entered into combat with enemies while I was arriving.

He murmured, "This place truly lives up to its name. The murderous aura and aura of decay could make even the Gods weep in sorrow." Nyx said, "The Deadlands were created when ancient supreme powerhouses fought to the death here. You're right, countless people died here, far too many. Even though my martial arts have grown quite strong, I still don't want to come to a place like this." Andrew replied, "Let's go find Dad." Nyx mumbled, "Normally, you wouldn't see a single soul in this kind of forbidden zone. But now, so many people have suddenly shown up. Andrew, I have a feeling that once the sacred realm entrance opens, conflict and bloodshed are inevitable."

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

The infected weren’t the only threat anymore. That much had become clear over the past few weeks. It wasn’t just the shambling hordes of zombies that kept me awake at night, but the survivors—the desperate ones, the ones who had lost too much, the ones who saw others as nothing more than resources to take.