Metal Gear Solid Venom Novels & Stories

“God of War.” On the other end, Venom’s emotionless voice boomed. Her voice was tinged with heavy breathing as if she had been working up some sweat. Knowing Venom, Kaze knew that one of the top three killers would rather numb herself in bloodshed than engage in intimacy with men. He asked, “What’s the situation there? Why did you poison May?”

I asked, taking a bite of syrup-drenched waffles. “He sent Booker,” Carter replies. I choke on my pancake. “He is just as bad as Ajax,” I gasp after expelling the food from my airway. Booker Kimble, codename: Veles. He is a taciturn weapons expert tactician with a blood kink. He reminds me of C.H.A.O.S.’s hellhound, Ransom. They both have adorable boyish faces with big blue eyes and thick lashes, but they are deadly like slow loris. You want to cuddle them because they’re so cute, but they are poisonous and will kill you.

Sweat glistened across his broad, scarred shoulders and the intricate dark tribal tattoos lining his ribs. Across the workshop, Maeve was running a high-speed diagnostic program on a salvaged cybernetic arm taken from one of Malakor’s fallen heralds. Holographic streams of green data and structural blueprints floated between them, projecting a life-sized model of Victor Vance’s heavily augmented skeletal frame.

"Look at me! It is Caelum! Wake up from this dark alchemy!" The visor of the black helmet remained emotionless, two crimson flames burning inside the eye slots without a single flicker of humanity or recognition. Vane did not speak; he merely twisted his wrist with terrifying, mechanical precision, leveraging his entire body weight to drive the crimson blade down toward Caelum’s collarbone.

Amy maintained a calm tone of voice while speaking firmly to the killer. “I was just curious. You don’t have to get defensive, my lovely, Asian flower.” The gunman’s voice trailed down to a growling whisper. The burly, bearded man stared across the room at Amy with ungodly thoughts seeping into his mind. “You came in here and ignored me. You won’t even tell me how you enjoyed my game. I based the game on your life experiences. I named the video game Gunmetal Mama in honor of your MMA fighting career.” The gunman showed his teeth while sneering at Amy. “I’m so flattered,” Amy spoke to the gunman through a dry tone, unleashing her sarcasm. She returned her hands to the front of her stomach whe

"I've already won. My team is safe. That's all that matters." The leader pulled the trigger, and Venom felt a searing pain in his chest. He stumbled back, his vision blurring. "You...you'll pay for this," Venom gasped, his voice barely audible, he dug into his jacket pocket that was lying on the ground with the last shred of his consciousness. He smiled as he brought out a small egg-shaped device and threw it toward the group. They didn't notice it being too consumed with watching his blood draining from his body…until it exploded in their midst. Blood, bone, fur and metal rained down over him.

She gave one more searching look around and spoke into her headset. “OK, Griff. The coast’s clear.” “Got that. We’re coming out.” The door opened behind her, and she gave a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure that it was Griff, Diana and the idiot. When she turned around again, he was on her. Where he'd come from, Selena had no idea. He was moving fast, though, and all she saw was a flash of something silver and dangerous, and then there was blinding pain on the left side of her chest. She fell to her knees, all out of breath. She gasped for air, looked down, saw blood on the front of her shirt.

The dimly lit bar was a sanctuary for the weary and the wicked alike. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the low hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. Chase Almonte leaned against the polished mahogany counter, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge. He had always been a man of ambition, but lately, that ambition had twisted into something darker, fueled by a burning hatred for his niece, Desire.

The sheer, unnatural abomination of it turned his stomach, a visceral reminder of the monster whose blood ran in his own veins. He didn't hesitate. Fennigan drew his heavy sidearm from his shoulder holster, leveled it squarely at the center of the reinforced glass, and pulled the trigger. BANG. The gunshot was deafening inside the enclosed titanium Vault. The massive glass jar violently exploded outward. A tidal wave of pale preservative fluid and thick, bright silver goo washed across the stainless-steel table, splattering heavily against the rock floor. The unnaturally large heart hit the cold stone with a wet, heavy slap. It gave one final, pathetic shudder, and then went completely, perm

It glinted in the light, a symbol of broken promises, before landing on the disheveled bed where their betrayal had unfolded. My piercing gaze remained fixed on it. "Consider it your reward for a game that you played so well," I stated, the bitterness in my voice seeping through every word. "And, well done, Leila. It seems you have found your perfect match," my words were like a dagger coated in bitterness, “Perfectly made from hell!“ my voice heavy with the agony of betrayal. Leaving the room, I walked away from the echoes of deception, my final words lingering in the air like an unspoken truth. The corridor outside embraced me in its quiet solitude, providing a refuge from the emotional st