Victor Robinson II
Bio
I am Victor Robinson II I am self publisher writer with Amazon. I enjoy writing books its relaxs my mind. I also work at wal mart been there 15 years hoping to survive as an author. I want to entertain the world with my awesome stories
Stories (71/0)
Streets Of The Blade Runners
Fog blanketed the city like a shroud, the cold mist clinging to everything in sight. The rain had long since stopped, but the streets were still slick with moisture, reflecting the neon lights of Blade Runner. The city that never slept was even quieter tonight, a fitting atmosphere for Malcolm Hammer’s line of work. He sat in the dim light of his cluttered office, the scent of stale cigarettes and old books filling the air. His desk was covered in files, each one a testament to the mysteries he’d solved over the years. But today, something different awaited him. A single letter, addressed in a feminine handwriting, lay atop the pile. As Malcolm Hammer, Private Eye, reached for the letter, he knew his life was about to change.
By Victor Robinson II3 months ago in Futurism
The SledgeWomanHammer
Chapter 1: The Encounter The night was dark and still as Helen ran through the eerie forest, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear the echoes of her own panicked breaths mingling with the rustling of the leaves. The only thought in her mind was the desperate need to escape the terror that pursued her.
By Victor Robinson II4 months ago in BookClub
Infinite Man
Steeped in the supernatural and empowerment, we follow Cameron Ford, also known as Infinite Man, a formidable figure bearing a unique amalgam of superhuman abilities and a stolen predator suit, as he penetrates the netherworld to vanquish Valor, the son of the Devil, seeking retribution for an unspeakable tragedy. Endowed with the powers of Superman and Wolverine, his intrusion into the heart of Hell, promising encounters with Silent Hill's surreal horror, Raccoon City's abominations, and the twisted purgatory of Freddy & Jason, converges into a visceral tale of vengeance, formidable foes, and the confluence of multiple hells.The predatory pulse of vengeance quickens as I, Cameron Ford, receive a letter scrawled in blood from the darkest abyss, beckoning me into the bowels of Hell to confront my nemesis, Valor. My new family now hostage to his infernal whims, I don the memento of my interspecies conquest, the predator suit, an armor that shifts and wails with whispered intent, as I steel my resolve to descend into the inferno and confront the Devil's unsavory spawn.Adorned in the totems of my conquest, an arsenal gleaming with the finality of my purpose, I traverse the threshold, crossing the precipice between worlds. Each defiant step into the clutches of Hell unfurls a labyrinth of souls and suffering, the air thick with a palpable malevolence that my Superman and Wolverine linage claws at, urging me onward.Silent Hill looms—a necropolis shrouded in ashen fog, each step a cacophony of siren wails and an eerie calm. Within its veiled walls, the phantoms of my own past and Valor's blood-tainted footprints converge, with the predator suit's sensors flickering uneasily, hinting at unseen horrors that mesh seamlessly with this nightmare world. Revelation skirts its edge, tethering my sanity to this unhallowed ground as visions of my fallen wife intertwine with the gnawing hunt.The insidious tapestry of Silent Hill unravels its core, unraveling both past and present with a cruel dexterity that rattles even my indomitable spirit. A labyrinthine structure, once a schoolhouse, echoes with the skeletal gleam of faces familiar and forgotten, their hollow eyes a silent chorus of my failures. The pursuit of Valor, entwined with my private purgatory, blurs the line between just retribution and personal reckoning.My resolve, an adamantium rod, as I push through the substantiated air; Raccoon City looms, a nightmare reborn in a writhing mass of desolation and monstrosity. Hordes bearing semblances of humanity yet devoid of it, surge forth, their grotesque mutations a grotesque homage to a world rent asunder. Here, the clash of past and present superimposes, the remorseless claw of destruction interweaving with the desecrated downtown's decay.Among the writhing cadavers, my senses keen with an enhanced scent, I catch traces of Valor—a noxious amalgam of brimstone and arrogant indifference. The predator suit flexes with an otherworldly grace, its interstellar sinew acclimating to the fields of Raccoon City's blight, as my eyes lock onto towering monoliths, vestiges of pharmaceutical tyranny, which concealed much more than the sham of medicinal progress.Lurking within the crumbling edifice of pharmaceutical supremacy, a hybrid horror, the result of Valor's cruel machinations and eldritch science, salivates anticipation. The recoil of my Kryptonian punch meets the substance of necrotic flesh as we engage in a dance of grotesque might and relentless fury. Valor strives to manipulate the grotesque into the subjugation of Hell's rumbling domain, a sinister crown for his reunion with damnation.Blood stains the abyssal soil as the grotesque creation, a terrifying homage to the mutation-inducing T-virus, crumbles beneath my adamantium claws and the searing wrath of my heat vision. Valor's whispers, taunting and venomous, reverberate amid the ruins, igniting a fire within, unfueled by the oxygen-deprived air, craving finality. Raccoon City, a backdrop to our lethal ballet, bears silent witness to a primal struggle transcending two worlds.The encroaching void of Raccoon City recedes, yielding to a cascading of images hewn from nightmares. Freddy's domain, a dreamscape embellished with the macabre art of nightmares, where mental domination is the symphony that orchestrates fear. Here, time is a pendulum, endlessly swinging over the abyss of the subconscious, and with it, the troubling whisper of an impending nemesis, the dream demon Freddy Krueger.With each heartbeat, echoes of nightmares take form, twisted imaginings and mortifying illusions seizing my senses, exploiting vulnerabilities I deemed impervious. Valor, a fleeting specter, dances at the fringes, goading with the malevolent charm of a true devil's issue. My grip on reality falters, locked in deadly dreams spurred by Freddy's whims, while Jason, the silent sentinel, awaits his turn in this wraith-like ballet of horror.Defeating the irrational with logic flawed, I converge my will with the spirit of the predator suit, an amalgamated resolve that repels the tenebrous claws of mental entrapment. Freddy, a gaunt conductor in this symphony of the grotesque, defies my advances with leering specters that follow his pernicious baton. My claws sing through his deceiving visage, shredding the symbolism of his power and unveiling the man beneath the monstrous guise.Darkness recoils in agony as I slice through the fantastical mileu, severing the tendons of Freddy's control with vindictive precision. His reality crumbles, the dream world collapsing with each furious slash, as Valor's guise evaporates amidst the debris, a transitory victory mocking me with the knowledge that true reckoning lies ahead in the domain long co-ruled by fear and silence.Silhouetted against an inferno-drenched backdrop, Jason emerges, the compound of solitude and vengeance, and the antithesis to Freddy's cerebral warfare. With unyielding putrescent strength, he enacts his silent, brutal ballet—Valor's personal chamber of torments. Each step toward him is met with the unending cacophony of cold steel, our kinetic elegy underscored by the predatory whispers of the suit, urging the inevitable clash of titanic wills.The ebon-clad chamber a testament to Valor's sadistic opulence, contrasted with Jason's silent resentment and relentless pursuit. My vision, honed by valor, pierces the choreography of dismemberment and unrelenting fury as I leverage the fusion of Clark's strength and Logan's resilience, and my own unyielding force of will. Each laceration yields no blood, my body a forge, burning with a determination that defies the chilblained touch of death and the silent screams of Jason's past victims.Valor and I, a pause in the eternal dance, as the trinity of Hells converge into a crescendo of primal hatred and irrepressible might. The suit, a living symbiosis of intergalactic origins and terrestrial vengeance, aligns seamlessly with my purpose—a surgical severance of Valor from the tenuous tyranny of his lineage. My claws, now instruments of infernal justice, rend flesh with a precision born of transcendent fury, my wife's visage a benediction amidst the carnage, and my unborn daughter's innocence a hymn to tomorrow, now safeguarded by the infinity of a man reborn under the skulking gaze of Hell's The predatory pulse of vengeance quickens as I, Cameron Ford, receive a letter scrawled in blood from the darkest abyss, beckoning me into the bowels of Hell to confront my nemesis, Valor. My new family now hostage to his infernal whims, I don the memento of my interspecies conquest, the predator suit, an armor that shifts and wails with whispered intent, as I steel my resolve to descend into the inferno and confront the Devil's unsavory spawn. Adorned in the totems of my conquest, an arsenal gleaming with the finality of my purpose, I traverse the threshold, crossing the precipice between worlds. Each defiant step into the clutches of Hell unfurls a labyrinth of souls and suffering, the air thick with a palpable malevolence that my Superman and Wolverine linage claws at, urging me onward. Silent Hill looms—a necropolis shrouded in ashen fog, each step a cacophony of siren wails and an eerie calm. Within its veiled walls, the phantoms of my own past and Valor's blood-tainted footprints converge, with the predator suit's sensors flickering uneasily, hinting at unseen horrors that mesh seamlessly with this nightmare world. Revelation skirts its edge, tethering my sanity to this unhallowed ground as visions of my fallen wife intertwine with the gnawing hunt. The insidious tapestry of Silent Hill unravels its core, unraveling both past and present with a cruel dexterity that rattles even my indomitable spirit. A labyrinthine structure, once a schoolhouse, echoes with the skeletal gleam of faces familiar and forgotten, their hollow eyes a silent chorus of my failures. The pursuit of Valor, entwined with my private purgatory, blurs the line between just retribution and personal reckoning. My resolve, an adamantium rod, as I push through the substantiated air; Raccoon City looms, a nightmare reborn in a writhing mass of desolation and monstrosity. Hordes bearing semblances of humanity yet devoid of it, surge forth, their grotesque mutations a grotesque homage to a world rent asunder. Here, the clash of past and present superimposes, the remorseless claw of destruction interweaving with the desecrated downtown's decay. Among the writhing cadavers, my senses keen with an enhanced scent, I catch traces of Valor—a noxious amalgam of brimstone and arrogant indifference. The predator suit flexes with an otherworldly grace, its interstellar sinew acclimating to the fields of Raccoon City's blight, as my eyes lock onto towering monoliths, vestiges of pharmaceutical tyranny, which concealed much more than the sham of medicinal progress. Lurking within the crumbling edifice of pharmaceutical supremacy, a hybrid horror, the result of Valor's cruel machinations and eldritch science, salivates anticipation. The recoil of my Kryptonian punch meets the substance of necrotic flesh as we engage in a dance of grotesque might and relentless fury. Valor strives to manipulate the grotesque into the subjugation of Hell's rumbling domain, a sinister crown for his reunion with damnation. Blood stains the abyssal soil as the grotesque creation, a terrifying homage to the mutation-inducing T-virus, crumbles beneath my adamantium claws and the searing wrath of my heat vision. Valor's whispers, taunting and venomous, reverberate amid the ruins, igniting a fire within, unfueled by the oxygen-deprived air, craving finality. Raccoon City, a backdrop to our lethal ballet, bears silent witness to a primal struggle transcending two worlds. The encroaching void of Raccoon City recedes, yielding to a cascading of images hewn from nightmares. Freddy's domain, a dreamscape embellished with the macabre art of nightmares, where mental domination is the symphony that orchestrates fear. Here, time is a pendulum, endlessly swinging over the abyss of the subconscious, and with it, the troubling whisper of an impending nemesis, the dream demon Freddy Krueger. With each heartbeat, echoes of nightmares take form, twisted imaginings and mortifying illusions seizing my senses, exploiting vulnerabilities I deemed impervious. Valor, a fleeting specter, dances at the fringes, goading with the malevolent charm of a true devil's issue. My grip on reality falters, locked in deadly dreams spurred by Freddy's whims, while Jason, the silent sentinel, awaits his turn in this wraith-like ballet of horror. Defeating the irrational with logic flawed, I converge my will with the spirit of the predator suit, an amalgamated resolve that repels the tenebrous claws of mental entrapment. Freddy, a gaunt conductor in this symphony of the grotesque, defies my advances with leering specters that follow his pernicious baton. My claws sing through his deceiving visage, shredding the symbolism of his power and unveiling the man beneath the monstrous guise. Darkness recoils in agony as I slice through the fantastical mileu, severing the tendons of Freddy's control with vindictive precision. His reality crumbles, the dream world collapsing with each furious slash, as Valor's guise evaporates amidst the debris, a transitory victory mocking me with the knowledge that true reckoning lies ahead in the domain long co-ruled by fear and silence. Silhouetted against an inferno-drenched backdrop, Jason emerges, the compound of solitude and vengeance, and the antithesis to Freddy's cerebral warfare. With unyielding putrescent strength, he enacts his silent, brutal ballet—Valor's personal chamber of torments. Each step toward him is met with the unending cacophony of cold steel, our kinetic elegy underscored by the predatory whispers of the suit, urging the inevitable clash of titanic wills. The ebon-clad chamber a testament to Valor's sadistic opulence, contrasted with Jason's silent resentment and relentless pursuit. My vision, honed by valor, pierces the choreography of dismemberment and unrelenting fury as I leverage the fusion of Clark's strength and Logan's resilience, and my own unyielding force of will. Each laceration yields no blood, my body a forge, burning with a determination that defies the chilblained touch of death and the silent screams of Jason's past victims. Valor and I, a pause in the eternal dance, as the trinity of Hells converge into a crescendo of primal hatred and irrepressible might. The suit, a living symbiosis of intergalactic origins and terrestrial vengeance, aligns seamlessly with my purpose—a surgical severance of Valor from the tenuous tyranny of his lineage. My claws, now instruments of infernal justice, rend flesh with a precision born of transcendent fury, my wife's visage a benediction amidst the carnage, and my unborn daughter's innocence a hymn to tomorrow, now safeguarded by the infinity of a man reborn under the skulking gaze of Hell's
By Victor Robinson II4 months ago in Fiction
The Spark Of Elroy
Chapter 1: A Life in Limbo In the bustling city of New York, amidst the sea of faces and the cacophony of cars honking, Johnny Elroy found himself trapped in the relentless grind of a dead-end job. Day in and day out, he would shuffle through the monotonous routine of his 9 to 5 desk job at a soul-crushing corporate office. His dreams of making a difference in the world had long been buried under heaps of paperwork and mind-numbing meetings.
By Victor Robinson II4 months ago in Humans
DVU's SledgeHammer: The Hunt For Leatherface
Chapter 1: Origins In the bustling city of Gotham, there lived a man named Cameron Ford. By day, he was a mild-mannered private detective, but by night, he transformed into the powerful superhero known as SledgeHammer. Cameron possessed the superhuman abilities of both Superman and Wolverine – strength, invulnerability, rapid healing, and razor-sharp claws. His mission was to protect the innocent and bring justice to those who threatened the peace. Cameron had also come from another universe which is called The Dark Universe where he fought all sorts of demons and vampires in a world without superheroes which led him through many fights and enemies like Mickey Maguire, a superhuman killing machine that went on a murder spree in Canada then he would take on the Devil's First Born son, Antony Valor which would lead through the Gates Of Hell where he would fight legendary slashers and a horde of undead just to get to him because of the events in the Violent One's story. He would be victorious in that fight but he would have to fight Valor's father, Lucifer which would be the ultimate fight of his life.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Fiction
DVU's Mr. Violence: The Divine Avenger
Chapter 1: The Hidden Identity Raphael, the Archangel, concealed his true identity beneath a mask as he patrolled the dark, crime-ridden streets of the city. Known only as Mr. Violence, he struck fear into the hearts of evildoers who dared to cross his path. With the grace and power that came from his divine lineage, he fought tirelessly to rid the world of sin and corruption.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Fiction
Blood Stained Sheets. Content Warning.
Chapter 1: The Dark Deed The pitter-patter of water from the shower filled the small, cramped room, mingling with the heavy breaths and soft moans of Jason and Julie. Steam rose around them, engulfing their entwined bodies in a cocoon of desire and secrecy. But the steam couldn't conceal the dark truth that lay just feet away on the tiled floor.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Humans
The Punisher Rises: Legacy Of Thorn
These Stories are all a part of a new bracket of multverses this universe is a combination of Marvel and DC Cinematic Universes and The Dark Universe which consists of Horror Icons and Demons and Vampires. Thanks to The Creator for Forming New and Exciting worlds. This New World is called The Dark Violent Universe Aka DVU.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Fiction
Zack Snyder’s Wolverine: Claws and Clashes
Chapter 1: The Lone Traveler Logan, also known as Wolverine, had been traveling the world for years, trying to escape his past and the memories that haunted him. His healing factor and adamantium claws made him almost invincible, but his inner turmoil was a battle he couldn't seem to win.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Fiction
The Unveiling Truth
Title: The Unveiling Truth Chapter 1: The Reunion Megan stood at the threshold of the living room, the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a warm hue over the scene before her. She could see Danny in the center of the room, his tall frame hunched over as he meticulously arranged the decorations for the impending baby shower.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in BookClub
The Lamentation of Clark Kent
Title: The Lamentation of Clark Kent Chapter 1: A Normal Life Shattered Clark Kent had always been a man of extraordinary abilities, yet he chose to lead a seemingly normal life as a journalist at the Daily Planet. He was happily married to the love of his life, Lois Lane, and together they had built a peaceful existence in Metropolis.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Horror
Guardians Of The Galaxy Goes To The Titty Twister. Content Warning.
Chapter 1: The Unlikely Gathering In the bustling streets of Mexico, a new bar called The Titty Twister had emerged as a hotspot for the most eclectic clientele in the galaxy. Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, and the eccentric Guardians of the Galaxy found themselves enjoying a rare moment of relaxation in the vibrant atmosphere of the bar.
By Victor Robinson II5 months ago in Horror
