Banter Knife Novels & Stories

She was absorbing. I stepped to the right side of the room. “This wall is knives. Every type you can think of. Combat blades, switchblades, karambits, trench knives, double-edged, spring-loaded, throwing knives. Most people don’t realize how often these end up being the backup when guns fail. Knife throw is an art in itself.” Gianna glanced over them, her eyes narrowing as she took in the polished blades and serrated edges. She reached out to touch one but paused, hesitant. The thing looks weird in her soft, delicate hands, not gonna lie.

I assume the L is for my middle name, which I don’t know. I applied lotion onto my body before I got dressed in my underwear. I then pulled on the booty shorts and the sports bra. I blow dried my hair and tied it into a ponytail. I then walked back to the box. I strapped the gun and knife holders onto my body before putting the knives where they belong. The knives are gold where you have to hold them, and the blades are silver.

Griffin took all the weapons and put them on the table. I got two hand guns and four magazines. I looked at Centaur when he got the sniper rifle. Eagle handed three combat knives to me. I noticed she also gave her favourite red combat knife. “I can’t use it. It’s your lucky knife.” I said. “Yep, but tonight I want you to be lucky. Use it.” She said and fixed her braided hair. “Thank you.” I said and strapped it in my legs. I helped her with her hair.

The attacked from his morning breath first made him flinch, which he quickly shrugged off, and went on with adjusting the waistline of his trouser. The left halve of the trailer housed a mattress, clothes and other junks he could find, while the other were a kitchenette, an old table, and his weapons. He then walked over to the right end of the trailer where sat the lazy rickety old looking table with a coarse honey-brown surface, and a limping leg supported by a slightly smaller wood right underneath. His eyes carefully went over the items on it: a disembodied Glock 17 9mm pistol, a weapon with the rare antique class of the past age -near extinct; an army knife with one smooth razor sharp e

"Prepared for whatever comes." The unspoken hung between us. Prepared to die. I selected a compact Glock. The kind Ghost had trained me with. Familiar weight. Comfortable grip. Added a backup knife. Small. Concealable. The kind of weapon that worked when everything else failed. "You're good with a knife," Dante observed. "Ghost taught me. Said guns jam. Run out of bullets. But a knife..." I tested the blade. Sharp. Perfect. "A knife never fails you if you know how to use it."

Another set of cuffs locks my ankles into place. "Do you know what this bench is?" his breath hot against my bare back. "No, Master," I whisper, my eyes glued to the people below, praying they don't look up and see my face or breasts. I catch sight of Banks reaching for something "It's called a restraint bench," he explains, and I gasp as I feel the freezing, sharp edge of a steel knife trailing slowly down my spine. My body muscles trembles, I look at the mirror. It's a small steel knife. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, been a while. Who else loves knife play?

Such a wussy, can't believe Simran slept with this coward. “You are Black Heart.” the girl muttered. I didn't reply to her. My focus was on my prey. “Stanley. A few years ago, you violated my soulmate. You committed a sin against me and against God. I have come as a punishment unto you. If you had not committed this great sin, I would not have come to you. But rejoice oh sinful one, for today you shall make atonement for your great sin.” I said to him as I took a dagger from my suit pocket. The S dagger was invented in 2003 by the Americans. It's also known as the Butterfly knife.

They hadn't expected the opportunity to come so soon. Now that they had the layout and guard intel in hand, didn't that mean that they would know exactly where the three Stantons were? "What are we waiting for? Let's move out." Butcher pulled out a suitcase. When he opened it, it revealed not clothes, but weapons. He'd packed a full deck. There was even a rocket launcher. Suffice it to say, he was a walking arsenal. He had assembled a complex sniper rifle in a matter of seconds. Nightingale, Specter, and Predator each drew their own preferred weapons.

I raised my hand and distanced myself away from their judging eyes. Eight and Four also moved to a corner, exchanging murmurs. In my spot, I could see Eight handing Four my knife. Then Four gave me a measuring look before taking his eyes back on the knife in his hands. I knew he was balancing between facts and his gut feels. But I also knew my alibi was rock solid. The butterfly knife that I had will never let me down. It has the word ‘hunter’ intricately drawn on its blade. And besides, he couldn’t kill me now that we already have a sacrificial lamb. The favor was still on me.

a sympathetic brother uttered. The men were near the burnt palace premises now, following Jonah behind. There was the sound of someone coming through a partially charred door. It was kept ajar. A young man strode out from it. He stood a few yards away from the men. He was difficult to identify; for his face was partly covered in blood. When he came close, the men cringed in fright, for he wore a skirt of bearskin like theirs. From his belly to his head was bare save for the blood that covered his face, and he had in his right hand, a glittering sword, which he held upward, keeping its sharpest tip above his head. With his left hand, he held a man’s head which had been cut off from the body.