Agent Venom Flash Thompson Novels & Stories

Every mirror in the house began to fire beams of light in a chaotic, hypnotic pattern. From the Grand Hall, she heard the screams. Not of pain, but of total sensory overload. The mercenaries were blinded, their tactical goggles useless against the high-frequency strobe. Elena didn't wait. She headed back toward the hall, but as she turned the corner, a hand clamped over her mouth. She was slammed against the wall, the cold stone biting into her spine. "Found you," a voice hissed. It wasn't a mercenary. It was Thorne. He looked disheveled, his expensive suit torn, his eyes wild with a manic, desperate greed. He held a syringe filled with a familiar violet fluid.

his sister suddenly mumbled, her head lowered. Venom turned to look at her, then I saw it. Right there on his neck, was the same tattoo I'd seen on Keegan and Andrea. I knew it at once. He was a shadow assassin.

"I think these pills are just a scam Cynthion Group worked with the Thompsons for. They just want a quick buck! Everyone, you mustn't fall for their tricks!" The Black Gorilla said with a cold voice. He looked pleased. A few days ago in the black market, Thompson broke his arms when he tried to steal Leon's treasure. One of them was too heavily injured and was yet to recover! Because of that, he still hated the Thompsons to the core!

I say, trying my best to have a small amount of restraint. “Make us yours,” Leana says, her voice deep with Kella’s overlaying it. She lowers her head a moment to show me the green rimmed with gold in her eyes, letting me know that both of my mates are forward, here for me to mark them and it breaks the last of my restraint. I snap my fangs into her marking spot like a viper catching its prey. The moment my fangs puncture her neck, she jerks, then, her orgasm, already so powerful, explodes. She screams her pleasure, her pussy walls clamping down so hard I’m forced to slow my thrusts as her blood fills my mouth. My gums tingle as my venom begins to flow into my fangs. I milk my thick venom in

Artemisia remarked as she gunned her Harley Davis to life. Artemisia is just one of the bounty hunters drawn out by the huge price tag on Sarah's head. This is one of the strategies employed by Mark to avenge the death of his mom and dad. Sarah fluttered her gigantic wings and descended on the parking area. Carefully she took out a bottle of antiseptic to disinfect the wound on her tongue. Approaching her condo, she drove past the security without uttering a word to the guard. "Strange?" the guard commented as he scratches his bald head in disbelief. "Ms. Sarah usually greets me when she arrives."

And watched the hunters approach with murder in her eyes. “Damn! He’s the biggest red wolf I’ve ever seen, Joe,” Thompson said as both drew closer... cautiously... the smell of fear cloaking them. He was dressed like the other, only his blue eyes were wide with excitement. She lifted her head, snarled, and snapped her teeth, but the futile effort cost her precious energy. Exhausted, she dropped her head back to the forest floor, the bed of pine needles tickling her nose. Joe crouched at her back, then pulled something from her hip. A dart, not bullets. Damn. Her heart beat so slowly she thought she’d die.

“Earlier, Barbara scratched Saga using poison, and then she hurt him by grabbing him by the shoulder. Saga was in pain, but that was precisely what brought Barbara back to her senses. Her memory came back, though she still had some doubts about it.” “But the venom of a wolvire should be deadlier than ours,” Justin argued quietly. The witch shook her head again. “It's not just poison. Whatever it is, we should be grateful because it brings the wolvire's soul back again. We have to get her soon before the devil can control her again.”

The heavy dose of epinephrine and synthetic coagulants masked the agonizing pain, turning him into a terrifying, walking weapon. When his armored SUV pulled up to the Frost Estate, the sun was still hours from rising. The rain had turned into a torrential, blinding downpour. Ethan bypassed the shattered gates and walked straight into the house. The foyer had been converted into a makeshift tactical command center. Monitors were set up on the grand dining table. Marcus and his cyber-team were furiously typing, tracing pings and scouring the dark web. Julian Thorne, having refused to go to the hospital, sat in a chair with his side heavily bandaged, a grim expression on his pale face.

Aris worked swiftly with a portable defibrillator and ventilator. “Mr. Thorne, this toxin is a modified derivative of a neuro‑paralytic agent. We need a specific antidote serum, one held only in government research facilities or the military laboratory at Porton Down,” Dr. Aris explained, his face tight with urgency. Mavric wasted no time. He grabbed his satellite phone. His mastery as a corporate ruler was on full display here. He did not beg; he negotiated high‑level political transactions in mere seconds. He called the British Secretary of State for Health.

I collapsed onto the floor, the cold of the stone seeping into my bones. The next morning, two Vanguard soldiers reached in. I didn't go quietly. Even without the ability to shift, I was a Thorne. I kicked the first one in the knee, hearing the satisfying crack of bone, and rammed my elbow into the throat of the second. They didn't strike back. They simply activated the receivers in my neck. A seizure tore through my body. I hit the floor, my muscles locking in an agonizing cramp, my vision swimming with black spots.