Agent Venom Flash Thompson Novels & Stories

His blood in our mouth had tasted good and Kella had happily started flooding his body with our much thinner venom. It wasn’t until his body had gone limp on top of mine that I’d realized something was wrong. Kella had pulled her canines out of his neck, and I’d pushed Drake onto his back, calling his name. He had stared, lifeless, up at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. I had been terrified that our marking, our venom, had killed him. Truly killed him. I was so relieved when he had blinked and come back to me, that I nearly collapsed with relief.

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.

“The Brood is coming!” In an instant, we were ringed by a B-class horde. “Now let’s see how you manage, you meddling bastard…” “Don’t let her go!” I ordered my wolf as she bolted for the trees. She dove into the swarm, and those filthy bugs crashed over us. Venom flashbacks clawed at my mind. These weren’t as lethal, but in numbers they could still kill you. “Griffith, watch it!” My wolf howled, furious, as stingers raked his back.

The image switched to a detailed toxicology report. "And this is the analysis of the toxins extracted from the bomb's residue. Blood Thistle, unique to the Thorne Pack, was mixed with a neuro-corrosive agent only available on the black market." "This poison doesn't just kill. It causes irreversible genetic collapse. You weren't just trying to kill me, Rosalind. You were trying to shatter the Blackwood Pack from within so your family could absorb the pieces." I turned to the trembling rogue leader. "Kane. Tell the elders. Who supplied you with this substance? A Class-A forbidden toxin."

I ask, my voice sounding so cold in the quiet room. “The toxin is aggressive, Alpha,” Thorne says, his voice thick with so much worry. “The wolfsbane was replaced with a concentrated extract that attacks the heart while the body thinks it's healing. If we hadn't caught it now... I am very sorry, Alpha.” Thorne says with a slight bow.

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.

Flash! The sound of camera flashes answered one another breaking the silence of the studio along with whispers of concern that began to spread among the journalists entirely this morning. Alistair Vance stepped forward, placing his palm on Vivienne's plump shoulder with a protective movement that was far too dramatic in front of the media lenses' spotlight. "We from the Vance clan will not remain silent seeing how the daughter of our alliance was mentally and financially tortured by Thorne Enterprises!" Alistair barked with an old, loud, authoritative baritone voice full of legal pressure entirely this morning. "The tax evasion documents and logistics paralysis that happened to Dominic's com

"Call the Judge. In the meantime, I am the proxy. And I am authorizing the treatment." She turned to the Chief of Medicine, who was standing nervously by the ICU doors. "Dr. Aris, take this vial. It was formulated by Arthur Thorne. It is an enzymatic stabilizer specifically designed to counter the synthetic toxin Beatrice Thorne has been using. If you don't use it now, he will be brain dead in an hour." "But the risks, Miss Vance..." the doctor stuttered. "If it fails..." "If it fails, I take the blame," she said. "But if you don't try, you’re an accomplice to a murder."

And then, with a feral roar, she surged upright, tackled him into the wall again, and brought a silver dagger hilt-deep into his thigh. Agony. The world flared white. He collapsed, panting, limbs heavy. The silver pulsed in his blood. He tried to move—couldn’t. The venom of it was spreading fast. She didn’t wait. As his body writhed in agony, as his limbs spasmed and his vision darkened, she stepped forward and swung again—brutal, efficient. Her clawed hand slammed into the side of his skull. The world exploded in light and static.