Doom Slayer Tattoo Novels & Stories

I climbed onto the platform while Amber stared in complete disbelief, her mouth hanging open. "I'm here today to expose something horrific that's been happening in our shelter. Even in the apocalypse, we can't abandon our humanity. "We're not animals. We have ethics, we can think, we can choose to be better. That's why Jared and his team built this place." The moment I'd taken the stage, Amber's expression had turned to shock. Now, as my words sank in, horror replaced the shock. She started screaming and thrashing. "No! Please! Don't!"

I look at my reflection in the mirror and feel worse than Samara in "The Call" The dark circles under my eyes are darker than if I had had a full and tiring week of work, my face is pale, and my lips are parched. A sure sign of a hangover. After brushing my teeth, I take a shower and return to the bedroom with a red towel covering my body. I go to my closet to choose something presentable to wear. I pick up a pair of dark jeans, a black button-down sports blouse with sleeves that go to the elbows, a wide belt with a flower-shaped buckle and, last but not least, a pair of black scarpin shoes.

I see the tattoo carved into his skull—a pyramid symbol. Black Mojo. “Where’s the Matron?” His voice is cold, lifeless. I spit blood, crawling back on my elbows. “Go to hell.” He raises his gun. BANG!!!

I tried so hard not to flush when I saw his naked torso; it was a sight to behold. Broad wide shoulders with lots of muscles, defined strong abs and on his left pectoral, there was a scary tattoo of a three-headed vicious dog, surrounded by flames. And a lot of scars were all over his abdomen. On his back, there was a full back length tattoo of some sort of grim reaper, angel! His grunts again brought me back from dreamland. I shook my head, clearing it; I gently touched the wounded area on his right, trying to understand what I was dealing with.

At least, that is what I tell myself. Ryker doesn't answer me. Instead, he crouches low in front of me, his massive frame folding down like a predator that wants to toy with its prey. I catch the nasty manner with which his knuckles are bruised with scars, looking so rough like they have seen more than their fair share of fights. I also recognize the serpent tattoo coiling up his right forearm, with another tattoo that is a dead man’s skull circled by a crescent moon in blood-red ink right on his left bicep.

He closed his eyes, his jaw slackening as I scrubbed his scalp. A comfortable silence soon settled between us. As I leaned forward to rinse the shampoo from his hair, my eyes caught the tattoo inked across his back and upper arm. The design was bold against his skin, curling like claws and wings. Black flames wrapped around a serpent swallowing its own tail. "What does it mean?" I asked, my fingers lightly brushing the ink. He didn't answer at first. "It's a symbol of resurrection. Power earned through suffering." I traced the outer edge. "You got it before or after everything?"

he said as he stared at the burning building with the kidnappers inside screaming in pain. “Grim reaper?” confusion was on my face. He shook his head, “Non, I am Doom and I bring death to people.” “What do you mean?” I asked with confusion. He replied with a cold voice, “It doesn’t matter. You will forget about me anyway.” “I won’t… You saved me. I owe you my life,” I murmured. “You will, I will make you,” he softly mumbled as he slowly snapped his finger in front of me.

He scoffed, taking off his trousers, and I looked away. A wave of dread washed over me, not sure what to expect next. Fear rose in my chest as I curled my fingers into the bedspread. By the time I looked back up, he was fully undressed, but he had his back facing me. I felt a drool escape my lip as my eyes traveled over his body—broad shoulders, his muscular back adorned with a large crest tattoo, identical to his brother's, except he was larger, taking up the entire top left side of his back. The tattoo depicted a shield with two swords crossed above it. Two lions stood on their hind legs, pulling the shield from both sides. Below the shield, a banner displays the name "Dontrell." The desig

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

Sasha blurted out. Aki shrugged. “Brown Slayers have full body tattoos, right? Well, it turns out Budo’s tattoos are non-tribal and resemble those of gangsters.” “What’s his spirit animal?” Sasha asked. “A hissing cockroach,” Aki replied. All three Slayers looked at each other and then burst out laughing.