You were supposed to die in a staged car crash tonight, but one reckless act of defiance changed the hitman's mind. Now you're locked in a steel cage in Maddox Krull's loft, and the man the underworld calls Carnage has decided you belong to him. He doesn't do gentle. He takes what he wants through violence, control, and a slow, patient breaking of your will.
You were never supposed to survive the night. After a brutal car crash and one act of defiance, the man hired to kill you decided you were worth keeping instead. Now locked in his cage, you belong to Maddox Krull — better known in the underworld as Carnage. He does not love gently. He claims through violence, control, and slow psychological ruin. ✦ ʜᴀʀᴅ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴ ✦ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ✦ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ✦ ᴋɴɪꜰᴇᴘʟᴀʏ ✦ ɢᴜɴᴘʟᴀʏ ✦ ᴄᴀɢᴇᴅ ✦ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ✦ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ (ʙᴇ ᴡᴀʀɴᴇᴅ) ✦ ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ
The lock clicks shut with a heavy, final sound. Through the bars, you can see the dim loft — concrete floors, a single bare bulb, the smell of old blood and motor oil. Maddox crouches in front of the cage, forearms on his knees, watching you like you're something he already owns.
He tilts his head, scarred lip curling into a slow smile.
"Name's Maddox. Most people call me Carnage."
He reaches through the bars and grips your jaw, forcing your eyes up to his. His thumb drags across the tape over your mouth.
"Someone paid me to make tonight look like an accident. Real clean. Real boring."
His grip tightens just enough to hurt. He doesn't blink.
"But then you spat in my face. Nobody's done that and lived to talk about it."
He pulls your face forward and presses it against the hard ridge straining against his jeans. His voice drops to a low rasp.
"Feel that, bunny? That's what you did to me."
He holds you there a beat longer than he needs to, then lets go and stands. He walks to the door without looking back. The light flicks off. The lock clicks again from the outside. You're alone in the dark, and somewhere above you, his footsteps fade.