Novelas y relatos de Marvel Mercenary

Lucien, mid-combat, eyes burning gold, met her gaze once—and she swore the battlefield bent to their shared will. Still, Kael’s forces were relentless. Gunfire and claws clashed against luxury steel, drones swooping low with precision strikes, holographic shields flickering as Mara poured power into them from afar. Then came the break. A mercenary—not wolf, not mage, something else—broke through the western flank. He wasn’t aiming to kill. He held a sleek device strapped across his chest, its holographic core flashing. He ran—not toward battle, but away, darting through the chaos with impossible speed.

Tonight, blood debts demanded alliance. The SUVs rolled to a stop, engines grumbling low like caged beasts. Doors opened. Men stepped out—mercenaries, pale-eyed, movements deliberate, weapons slung low but not forgotten. They carried themselves with the quiet of wolves who’d killed too many times to need to posture. Then Marek emerged.

With Caspian pinned beneath the burning iron, the space between me and the mercenaries was completely wide open. "Take her!" Marcus roared through the smoke. "Grab the girl and kill the rest of them!" Six armored mercenaries charged forward, their heavy boots splashing through the slush, running straight for where I stood alone. Kieran threw himself in their path, swinging his empty gun like a club, but the lead guard smashed a heavy shield into Kieran's face. The blow sent Kieran crashing backward into the stone wall, his head bouncing off the rock before he crumpled unconscious into the mud.

They weren't high council enforcers bound by protocol or uniform; they were apex predators-for-hire, answerable only to whoever paid the highest bounty in silver and gold. At the center of the camp, leaning over a crude wooden table covered in topographical maps of the outer ridge, stood their commander—a scarred, heavy-set mercenary named Karr. He had a thick iron brand burned across his left jawline and a reputation for finishing jobs that regular security forces failed to touch. A scout dropped down from the rocky upper ledge, landing lightly in the dirt beside the table and pulling down his wool hood.

Currently, his trust was waning. “Jayden, you don’t understand, these men are—” “Dangerous. Try another word. I’ve heard that too many times already.” “Look, if they come back here—” “You meanwhenthey come back here because they will. It’s the Bratva.” He threw off the covers and sat upright with that stubborn frown on his mouth and angry eyes. “Maybe you don’t understand. Serena, we’re talking about the freaking Russian mafia. They’re not only dangerous but vicious and ruthless. Unlike us, they don’t function with hot chocolate and emotions.They’re out there in the cold, ready to freeze their asses off if it means getting the job done. So, if you’re thinking of begging them not to take me w

Aaron turned to look at her, pulling Elaine into his lap and pointing at the computer screen, asking, "Do you know who this is?" On the computer screen was a photo of a man dressed in military camouflage. "He is..." Elaine began to connect the dots, "the mercenary who tried to kill us, right?" "That's right," Aaron praised her and tapped her nose lightly. "It's him. According to the information my friend found from the two men in black detained by the police, these people are all part of a mercenary organization called the 'Scorpions,' and this guy, called 'Scorpion,' is their leader."

Arthur looks at us and the joy in his eyes cannot be concealed. Without further ado, we start organizing the training staff. I select a few from my elite team to aid in the training. The rest will leave with me to the human realm. I also have a whole team of human top notch mercenaries planted in every corner of the world. These can be also known as hunters. Specifically trained to deal with other supernatural beings except werewolves.

Olivia watched quietly from a distance, she had gone back into her own body and Venom had sent Terrence back immediately. Her leg was fully healed and she could walk freely now. " Since the vice commander cannot train you, you would be sent back to wherever you had come from, not everyone has what it takes to become a mercenary, the undead has no place for weaklings like you" Conan said gravely. " You would do no such thing?" Olivia said in the coldest tone she could manage as she stepped forward, she eyed him icily, mimicking Daera's chilling countenance.

I tapped play. Marcus stepped into the frame, speaking with two men I didn’t recognize. One handed him a file, the other nodded and shook his hand. They looked like mercenaries—not rogues, but not exactly respectable either. Hired power. The kind used when you didn’t want blood on your hands but didn’t mind if someone else got theirs dirty. “He’s aligning himself with outsiders,” I said. Ava nodded. “And he’s offering something in return.” The temperature in the room dropped, or maybe it was just the ice spreading in my chest.

had been sniffing about in the area and wondered if they were just passing through. Gunner had recalled running into them a while back, he had not liked the look of the group who had apparently taken on another chapter during their expansion runs. The Howler M.C. and The Alpha Dog M.C. had been more or less even in terms of their true nature. Jake Gladstone was the club president and like Brick, he had wanted to break away from the more traditional wolfpack way of living. He gathered his own band of rabble-rousers and took off for longer sunsets and an endless trail much as Brick did but he was of a different sort given to high terrorism for sport despite those he had in his company not know