Doctor Doom Death Battle Novels & Stories

Someone from the doom squad transformed into a white creature which looks like a dragon but has no wings as Theo approached him. Theo made an attempt to punch the creature but it dodged and use its head to hit Theo as he crashed to the ground, giving him some bruises on his knees Theo staggered back on his feet and made to hit the creature again but it head-butted him and punched him so hard that he suspended in the air and hit his back against a tree. “Quit playing with him him and finish him already.” Gomok ordered and the doom squad marched towards Theo. Theo stood on his feet and he immediately turned and started running. He ran with the little strength left in him with the hope of getti

then. “She’s in room 312.” I nodded. “ Thanks.” “And I would like to speak to the billing department as well.” I added turning towards her again. The nurse pointed toward a hallway. “Second office on the right.” “Thank you.” I walked there immediately. Inside the office sat a middle-aged man with glasses. He looked up when I entered. “Yes?” “I’m here regarding Mrs. Dorothy Cole’ chemotherapy bill,” I said. He searched for a while before he picked one, opened the file and scanned it.

Now she was a pile of mangled flesh lying in the morgue. I turned and went back inside, locked the door, and slid down against it until I was sitting on the floor. My phone vibrated. "Backup slots are full. In the next cycle, death cannot be transferred." The next day, the sun came up, and the world went on as usual. Except for Unit 703. There was still no movement. I washed my face and looked at myself in the mirror. The scratch at the corner of my eye was still there. It was thin, narrow, and capped with a faint scab.

But he forgot about Amber's bleeding heart. She invited those people inside for a meal. When the group saw our lavish home decor, the hatred on their faces intensified. While she still felt proud of her charitable actions, some of them had already started moving. The first casualty was Dad's beloved porcelain vase in the living room. In the apocalypse, decorative pieces were worthless, but watching it shatter still made his face darken visibly. Three people couldn't hold back a mob. Before long, everything inside and outside our house had been smashed to pieces.

The linguistic scholar died. Before we could even reach the secondary stairwell, the massive, tinted glass windows of the living room shattered inward. A hail of high-velocity tactical rounds tore through the air, punching violent holes into the dark velvet couches and marble walls. Three heavily armed mercenaries, clad in matte-black tactical gear and Vance syndicate insignias, breached the shattered ledge using high-tension ziplines from an adjacent rooftop. Malakai returned fire instantly, his sidearm barking three times in rapid succession. The lead mercenary dropped hard against the broken glass, a tight cluster of crimson blooming across his chest.

Bloody revenge. Whoever did this to Theodore and my Father must pay. The door of the morgue opens and I turn to see the middle-aged handsome Doctor who had battled to save Theodore’s life. He gives me a look of pity, but that’s an emotion I hardly feel at the moment. I feel rage clouding my very vision and threatening to burst through my veins. “Doctor Gail.” “Can I speak to you for a moment Miss Janelle?” I nod and stare at Theodore one last time before I walk to meet Gail.

“Tom. I thought I told you to stay out of my life.” He laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “Oh, Lola. This isn’t just about you. This is about power. And I’m here to take what’s mine.” I felt Jessica step up beside me. “Over my dead body,” she snarled. Tom tilted his head, his smile widening. “If you insist.” With a wave of his hand, the beast charged. --- The fight was brutal. The beast moved faster than anything I’d seen, its massive claws swiping through the air.

he places his hand on his chest, feigning confidence. "Conceded much?" I ask him boldly, cutting his sentence off and leaving my fear in the dust. He chuckles deeply causing my heart to clench, uncomfortably. My father is dead in front of me, a bullet wound to his head and here I am, laughing with a strange, 7-foot man who shouldn't be in my house. "Well baby, I'm death, nice to meet you," I know it was dumb, but I broke into laughter. "Yeah, and I'm Demeter now get out before I call the cops," I glance back over at my father as he lies in a pool of his blood.

If the structure fails, it will not fail quietly, and I will not pretend neutrality when I can still apply pressure to keep it standing. And beneath that tilt lies another disturbance, older and more dangerous. Death and I were meant to operate in harmony. I chart the path. He closes it. Fate designs the end. Death completes it. We are two halves of the same mechanism. But he is no longer behaving like a function. He is behaving like a choice.

he laughs, as his grip on my neck tightens. A pain shoots up my spine and settles in my neck. I just see red. Whenever an opponent actually gets to hurt me, I just see that bastard who beat me all those years. And now, I can more than visualize my revenge. *Come on son, you got this punk,* Doze says, over mind-link. It’s the Alpha’s order that nobody mind-links me during a fight. Apparently he’s the exception though he’s never done it before. It instantly annoys the hell out of me.