Gratuitous Violence Novels & Stories

The driver laughs, short and mean. ‘River.’ Grady’s voice slides into the link like a drawn blade. Calm. Cold. ‘Green light. Box them. No casualties if possible. If they pull steel, pull them out of their seats.’ ‘Copy,’ I link back, and my teams light up in my head like a horseshoe. Everything after that happens the way good violence should; fast, clean, beautiful.

It was Violet we’re talking about here. The manipulative Violet that could wrap anyone around her pretty little finger. “You reek of incompetence—something I’ll be able to smell even from a mile away,” I say through gritted teeth. I pull myself away from him as I hold myself together from yanking off my fist from his clothes and to his face instead. Fixing violence with violence has always been beneath me; however, right now, I feel like it’s the most plausible thing to do. By this time, the entire council lined up to see the commotion at hand. Good then, let them hear my two cents.

she said slowly, "after everything my brother has done to your family. After the kidnapping, the corporate warfare, even Vivienne's death." "I would," I confirmed, meaning it fully despite the genuine difficulty of extending this particular grace given everything we'd already survived. "Because I've learned, throughout this entire exhausting campaign, that meeting violence with more violence rarely actually resolves anything permanently. It simply perpetuates the cycle for another generation, exactly as my own grandmother's crime against your father ultimately created your brother's current, devastating obsession. I don't want that same destructive cycle continuing indefinitely, consuming ye

"I was beginning to worry that Vogel's conditioning had made you soft. But there it is—the Coleman instinct for violence when diplomacy fails." Griffin stared at his bleeding knuckles, horrified by what he'd done and more horrified by his father's reaction. The man—the thing—was enjoying this. Feeding on the violence. Using even Griffin's rebellion as validation of his twisted worldview. "You're insane," Eli whispered, moving to stand beside his brother. "I'm evolved," Michael corrected, dabbing at his split lip with a handkerchief. "Sanity is a constraint imposed by biological limitations. I've moved beyond such restrictions."

One should think about others too! "Oh for god's sake, you guys fight like a married couple, just stop, I can't drive like this!", the unnamed driver screamed in a frustrated tone and both of our eyes widened. "No, we don't!", My voice overlapped with Mr. Kim, immediately shutting us both up, silence blanketed the whole car for a few minutes both of us just trying to stay without arguing but Nathan chose violence today. His legs propped up on the empty area next to me and his intention was pretty clear. He knew I hated shoes anywhere near me so he shot me a competitive look and slowly shifted his feet closer to me a few inches.

Fuck, I’ve seen Dad and Vati using guns as if they are born with them. Zayn and me are the ones never been the one to enjoy the violence. I hate that someone’s pain is their Friday night entertainment. Like suffering is sport. It’s the casualness of it all. The laughs. The obliviousness. The men placing bets while someone bleeds in front of them. And me… I’m standing like a statue while Massimo revels in it.

He leaned to the wall and massaged the bridge of his nose. I looked down to the ground as I bit my lip, trying to think of any alternative that we could take. As I observed from Giofre, he’s the type of person that could do anything to the person who hurts his loved ones. Violence is never the question. It is the answer. I have to keep that in mind, that bloodshed can not be avoided in this world. “Wake the fuck up, Portia. You know better.” Giofre pushed me back to my seat.

I knew deep down that succumbing to violence would only perpetuate a cycle of hurt and destruction. Exerting tremendous effort, I fought against the primal urge, feeling my hands tremble with the internal struggle. I understood that giving in to the temptation of violence would only exacerbate our already fractured relationship. With every ounce of self-control, I suppressed the mounting anger, determined to find a resolution that did not involve further harm.

I retorted with no intention of backing down, although I really have no idea why it had become such a big deal to me, “this is a world where you have to kill to survive. It’s not much of a leap from using violence to get the things you need, to using violence to get the things you want. And for a lot of men, one of those ‘things’ is women. Why not? What’s anyone going to do about it? Call the police?” The other three were now standing around us, looking a bit miffed by the conversation they’d walked into. “So you’re saying I should watch out for all guys, including the three of you? Once you get used to using violence to kill small animals, you might decide to use it to get some action in th

“I understand that’s how you were trained and raised. Your instinct is violence, but violence doesn’t solve anything. I’m not saying there’s never a place and a time, but punching someone for having a sharp tongue is hardly a punishment befitting of the crime.” “Maybe you're too lenient. People need to know that shit won’t be tolerated,” I argue. “Yes, but not through violence. If we used brute force to make everyone see reason, we’d never get anywhere. You can’t force people to grow or change or see that their hurtful opinions are wrong, you need to show them, teach them and let them fall hard on their asses. But the moment you turn to violence you make them a martyr. In their mind, you pro