#redmonika

[jadegretz]

[hichamhabchi]

Girls! #characterdesign #comics #conceptart #catwoman #baiken #katarina #redmonika #throwback https://www.instagram.com/p/CU2wutRJZzB/?utm_medium=tumblr

[enkaru]

Red Sonja vs Red Monika!! The sexiest red-haired women from comics 😁 - - - - #sixfanarts #fanart #redsonja #redmonika #battlechasers #comics #procreate https://www.instagram.com/p/B_HeFD5Dev1/?igshid=gcw94ikqkvfa

[amberharrisart]

Red Monika from Battle Chasers commission for Andrei. Thank you so much!! 

[zatransis]

#waybackwednesday to the time I colored these @joemadx lines for funsies. At one point I found out Joe used it for his Twitter pic as I walked through Dogpatch and I almost dropped my phone, lol. Done in #photoshop 9 years ago. Oof. #zatransis #mikehenry #digitalwatercolors #redmonika #battlechasers (at Sant Cugat del Vallès) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzLiluLCb7E/?igshid=su30wnhw4uj0

[dereklaufman]

Inktober Day 04 - Red Monika from Battle Chasers. The game just came out and it's awesome. I just had to do a tribute! #redmonika #battlechasers #battlechasersnightwar #promarker #winsorandnewton #pentelpocketbrush #inktober #inktober2017 #dereklaufman

[vertvixen]

I am legit having too much fun in this wig and makeup 💜💜 I can't wait to do the whole thing soon💜💜 I'm still live playing #BattleChasers for a bit!! Monika makeup is still going strong ;D! Link in profile! #cosplay #battlechaserscosplay #BCNW #battlechasersnightwar #redmonika #monika #twitch #twitchgaming #twitchstream #makeup #cosplaymakeup #thq #thqNordic #airshipsyndicate

[jadegretz]

CammyWhite112-6-ezgif.com-video-to-gif-converter

White Moon, Red Teeth

The highlands of Scotland were not kind under the gibbous moon. Cammy White moved through the heather with the silent, economical grace of a predator, but tonight, she was prey. The air, thick with peat and decay, carried a new scent: ozone and wet fur. It had been following her since dusk, a shadow within the shadows.

Delta Red’s intelligence had been sparse: “Anomalous activity. Possible bio-weapon. Investigate.” They hadn’t mentioned the moon, which hung like a jaundiced eye, leaching the color from the world and painting everything in sickly silver and deep, bruised violet. They certainly hadn’t mentioned the whispers.

At first, she’d dismissed them as the wind through the standing stones on the ridge. But they coalesced into a voice, smooth as aged whiskey and cold as a grave.

“So much fight in such a small frame,” it murmured, the sound seeming to originate just behind her left ear. Cammy spun, her combat stance automatic, but there was only the twisted silhouette of a thorn tree.

“Show yourself,” she demanded, her voice cutting the stillness. “Delta Red doesn’t play games.”

A low chuckle vibrated through the ground. “This is no game, little doll. This is a feast. And you… you are not like the others. Your light doesn’t flicker. It burns.”

The undergrowth ahead parted. Not with a crash, but with a terrible, fluid silence. It emerged.

It was a wolf, but woven from nightmare. Its fur was the color of the moon-bleached sky, silver-white, and its eyes were pools of absolute black, reflecting no light. It was easily the size of a pony, muscles coiling beneath its pelt with supernatural grace. But its most horrifying feature was its intelligence. Its gaze was not bestial; it was ancient, calculating, and brimming with a terrible, amused hunger.

“What are you?” Cammy breathed, every nerve screaming to attack, yet a deeper instinct warned her that a direct assault would be fatal.

“A relic,” the wolf purred, its muzzle not moving, the words forming directly in her mind. “A king under a older, hungrier sky. This moon,” it tilted its head skyward, “is my scepter. It bends the world to my appetite. It makes the weak… tender.”

It began to circle her. Cammy mirrored it, her mind racing. Bio-weapon? This was something else. Folklore given flesh.

“You’ve been hunting the villages,” she stated, buying time, studying its movements. They were flawless, without a single wasted motion.

“A snack here and there. The fearful are so… salty. But a warrior,” it paused, its black eyes gleaming, “a warrior’s spirit is rich. Complex. I haven’t tasted a soul like yours in centuries.”

It lunged. Not a full charge, but a blinding feint, its claws gouging the earth where she’d stood a microsecond before. Cammy had twisted aside, a Spiral Arrow already igniting her legs. She launched herself not at the beast, but at a slant, using the momentum to gain distance up the rocky slope.

“Running only spices the meat,” the voice chuckled inside her skull.

“I’m not running,” Cammy shot back, scrambling onto a granite outcrop. “I’m choosing the battlefield.” The high ground was minimal, but it was something. Her hands closed around a heavy, loose stone.

The wolf flowed up the slope as if gravity were a suggestion. It sat below her, tongue lolling in a grotesque parody of a smile. “Brave. I shall enjoy unwinding that bravery, strand by strand.”

“You talk too much for a king,” Cammy taunted, hefting the rock. “More like a lonely ghost.”

The amusement vanished from its gaze, replaced by a chill that pierced her bones. “You dare…”

“I do. You’re not a king. You’re a prisoner. The moon’s your jailer, not your scepter. You only get to play when it’s full and cursed.”

A snarl, real and physical, ripped from its throat. The mind-voice trembled with rage. “You know nothing!”

“I know a desperate creature when I see one,” Cammy pressed, her heart hammering. She was piecing it together—the localized activity, the lunar cycle in the reports. This thing had power, but it was tethered, conditional. “You don’t want to eat me. You want to be me. To feel a human’s freedom again.”

The wolf went perfectly still. The silence was heavier than the growls.

“Clever doll,” its voice whispered, now laced with something new: a terrible, yearning sadness. “So very clever. This form… it is a cage of instinct and …(more at https://ww

Red Monika: Fearless Rogue ANIMATION

The Gilded Cage of Emberdusk

Red Monika did not save cities. Cities were prisons of pleading voices and grasping hands. She saved moments—a child snatched from a collapsing bridge, a family pulled from a flaming tenement. Then she vanished, a scarlet ghost in the twilight, the weight of a world’s hope shed like rainwater from her shoulders.

But Emberdusk found her. It was a city perpetually bleeding into a bruised sunset, now under the thumb of the Warlord Caelus. He did not conquer with armies alone. He conquered with Silence. It began at the edges of town, in the hush that fell over the market, the way laughter would die mid-breath. Then the missing: not in droves, but in perfect, terrifying increments. A baker one dawn, a lamplighter the next. They left behind only a faint, sweet smell, like burnt honey and rust.

Monika was extracting a dentist—a corrupt one who experimented on the poor—from his opulent suite when the request came. It was not a letter, but a box. Inside, on a bed of grey ash, lay a single, perfect phonograph cylinder. She placed it on her portable player. The voice was that of Elara, a historian she’d once spared from a mob.

“Monika. They call him the Groom. He takes people and… refines them. He’s building something in the old opera house. A chorus. We are trying to resist, but our will… it drips away like sand. We need a symbol. We need the storm. Please.”

Monika crushed the cylinder to dust. Symbols were shackles. Yet, the phrase burnt honey and rust lingered. That night, from her perch atop the clock tower, she saw a patrol of Caelus’s ‘Quietmen’. They moved with unnerving syncopation, their armor not metal but something organic and glossy, like beetle shells. Where a face should be, only a smooth, blank plate. The sweet-rotten smell reached her even there.

A week later, watching a Quietman perfectly, silently dismember a rebel in an alley, she found herself moving. Not as a symbol. As a revulsion.

She met the resistance in the catacombs beneath the library. Elara, now gaunt with shadows under her eyes, gripped her hands. “You came.”

“I’m not your leader,” Monika stated, her voice echoing in the sepulchral dark. “I’m a scalpel, not a banner. Tell me about the opera house.”

A young, fiery man named Kael interjected. “It’s a fortress! His Quietmen are everywhere. And the sounds… sometimes at night, you hear… singing. It’s beautiful. It makes you want to go to it.”

“That’s the trap,” Elara whispered. “He seduces the mind before he takes the body. He calls it ‘Unification’. He says he’s freeing us from the chaos of individual will.”

Monika’s mission was simple: infiltration, assessment, and if possible, decapitation. She was a creature of impulse, not of war. But as she slid through the midnight streets, the silence pressed on her like a physical weight. It was a hungry silence.

Breaching the opera house was trivial; her powers of kinetic redirection turned locks to powder and let her glide up walls. Inside, the grandeur was pristine, preserved under a layer of eerie perfection. No dust. No decay. And the smell—burnt honey and rust—was overwhelming.

She found the choir in the main auditorium. They stood in serried ranks on the stage, hundreds of them. Men, women, children. They were nude, their bodies smooth and flawless, their eyes closed in blissful repose. From their slightly parted lips, a haunting, polyphonic tone emerged—a single, sustained, perfect chord that vibrated in the marrow of Monika’s bones. Wires, like silver veins, ran from their spines into the floor.

At the conductor’s podium stood Caelus. He was not a giant, but a slender man in elegant grey. His face was handsome, refined, but his eyes were the colour of tarnished silver. He sensed her, as one senses a discordant note in a symphony.

“Ah,” his voice was a smooth baritone, weaving into the chord. “The scarlet variable. I wondered when you’d arrive.”

Monika dropped from the rafters, landing silently. “Let them go.”

“Let them go?” Caelus smiled, turning slowly. “But they are finally free. Free from desire, from pain, from the terrible loneliness of the self. Listen. Do you hear any fear? Any doubt? It is a paradise of harmony.”

“It’s a meat locker with a soundtrack,” Monika spat, though the chord was seeping into her, softening the edges of her fury.

“Crude. You, of all beings, must crave freedom. The freedom from the cacophony of …(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

w.deviantart.com/jadegretzai). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)