Marvel Mercenary Novelas e Histórias

As the weak morning sun finally broke through the gray highland mist, the distant, burned-out silhouette of the western bottleneck came into view. Waiting at the tree line, looking thoroughly exhausted, damp, and deeply confused, were the surviving remnants of his mercenary vanguard. Out of an elite fifty-man tactical team, only about twelve were left standing. They were huddled around a pathetic, smoking campfire, wrapped in emergency blankets, their high-tech armor dented and scored by massive wolf claw marks. When the mercenary commander saw a disheveled, half-naked, limping man covered in mud and seaweed dragging himself out of the heather, he instantly drew his sidearm. "Halt! Who goes—

But at the moment, I’d much rather be involved with bringing down a werewolf-run drug running operation instead of a vampire-inflicted human homicide bordering pack lands. “Detective Fergeson, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry it has to be under these conditions.” I say, turning to shake his hand. “I’m Alpha Scarlett, the Alpha of the Crimson Snow Pack and these,” I point to Bree and Dax, “these are my Gamma and Lead Warrior, Bree and Dax.” Motioning to the others, I tell him, “this is Blake, Serafina, Theo and Conan, four more of my warriors. And this is Tasha and Channing, two of my trackers. Channing is the one who found the deceased.” I hear someone clearing their throat near me. “Oh, for

“I ran his face through every legal database…Italy, Russia, the U.S. Nothing came up. It’s like the dude’s a ghost.” “Well, I hope there’s a but coming,” I said coldly. “And for your sake, you’re a ghost hunter.” Fear flickered in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… so I hacked into the black market security network. He’s called The Dead. Weird, right?” “The Dead?” I repeated. Was he fucking serious? “Wait… he’s…” My voice trailed off as the realization hit. “He’s a mercenary,” Ryan finished. “Or more precisely… the head of a mercenary gang.”

The temperature dropped instantly to a horrific minus fifty degrees, the howling wind driving a horizontal wall of razor-sharp ice needles straight through the structural supports. ​Marcus Kane’s forward scout team—eight heavily armed corporate mercenaries clad in white thermal ceramic plating—advanced through the freezing mist with professional precision. At the rear, wrapped in a heavy, blood-spattered tactical fur coat, stood Marcus. The left side of his face was a horrific labyrinth of puckered, purple burn scars from the villa flood, his remaining eye wide, wild, and bloodshot with a manic, vengeful hatred. ​"Throw the manual levers!" Marcus screamed through the roar of the nitrogen sto

she revealed. Alpha Jones bursted into laughter. "Hmm, what's funny?" the Daredevil asked angrily. "The fact that you are just an instrument to produce mass followers. You are such a nonentity. You want to put your unborn generation into slavery. Anyway, you don't have a choice" Alpha Jones mocked him. "But I will be alive while you are all dead" the Daredevil tried to console himself.

(The world pauses entirely around her for a moment as she seems to be gathering energy and attempting to focus on her powers despite screaming frantically. Narrator: "So I can only imagine you're wondering how we got to this point, because this seems like a pretty tumultuous situation. So let's back it up a bit and explain a few things. First off: Hi! I'm your narrator, Kimora Sylvaburn." (The screen does a close up on her falling screaming face.) "Yeah that's totally me there... messed up situation huh? The last time we did this you guys kind of got a bit of a rushed story about us. That's my fault. The snack was tasty so I ate the whole thing without leaving a second thought. This time aro

Abel calmly elaborated. "Says a guy who single-handedly took out a whole army of rebels in Congolese 10 years ago", Jenny replied with a little chuckle. "Abel Mordecai Oliz, 35 years of Age. Ex-Mercenary going with the disguise name The Merc and later joined the CIA. But resigned 5 years ago. Favorite color is blue. Lost both wife and daughter right before his eyes in the bus taking them to the airport for a planned vacation at Hawaii. Still haven't had his revenge, because he is yet to figure out who is behind the Assassination." Jenny elaborated with a stern gaze.

Shocking and stunning every single person in the Are, Especially all the Mercenaries. “Which part of…”don’t move’ and ‘Deadly Force’ that you lot don’t understand?……HMPH!….a bunch of uneducated mercenaries…nothing but a scums…..Hmm~…the round dark badges….a Darkness Guild members…even more unsettling….alright now…you Mohawk, stupid face….who is you employee and who is your boss?…”. (Major Serena)

He betrayed me and even though he knew how dangerous I was, he still had the effrontery to visit my lair. The uproar of my fellow members jolted me back to reality. "Everyone! Cheers to the Lord of the house, Zeus!" I chuckled as my group of six happily clapped their glasses of beers against each other. This is what one gets when you choose to have your lair be a bar in disguise. The mornings up to the early nights were for humans while the deep nights were for us werewolves. We were called the Hunter Mercenaries, a group of skilled werewolf mercenaries led by me. Some of us here were wanted and some were new recruits to replace our fallen. Simon for starters. There he was, his young stature

"Yes!" "Okay. Stay close." Jim told Wilson and began to move forward. Before he could take his fifth step, a man of average height and looks coupled with a mohawk approached Jim and stood in front of him, blocking his and Wilson's path. He was the same mercenary from before who thought he saw himself in s place called 'Valhalla'. Apparently, he did not even have a proper understanding of Valhalla. He looked at Jim, down at his phone and back up at Jim's face. Wilson clenched his fist and walked to the side slightly, so that he could throw a punch at the mohawk guy if necessary.