Bioshock Infinite Novel Novels & Stories

Ink rained more heavily over that section, soaking into the shelves, words ghosting along their edges before seeping in. Scripts from earlier cycles. Regrets are rewritten. Stories abandoned. “My worlds,” I said. Not just the Game’s. My old drafts. The Graveyard had been full of them; now it was bringing them here. The hybrid Final World was shedding some of its borrowed mash‑up skin and reaching for a base layer it recognized: Library. City. A library‑city. A place built of stories instead of just haunted by them. The Admin spat static. “UNAUTHORIZED STRUCTURE… GROWTH,” it grated. “AUTHOR GRAVEYARD PARAMETERS LEAKING. CONTAINMENT… IMPOSSIBLE.”

A little later I struggle to let go but Anne won't release me. "I can walk by myself, you know? " Yes, I know... but there's something I want to ask you and I don't want you to run away" I'm dead. Poison, thirst, illness, hunger, wounds, the jackal, I've been through so many hardships, just to die at the hands of a psychopath in a forsaken forest. "That day…" Anne blushes a little "that day, did you see anything?" Yes, I could saw everything. You dropped your pants right in front of me, you have a nice figure by the way.

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION Outside the shack, Nelanian sat. He was trying to wring the water out of his soaked garments. The torrential rain that had poured all night had flooded through his ancient house and soaked up all he owned. His clothing were in a sac in one corner of the cabin, and they had spent the night sitting in a puddle of water. He awoke the next morning with an annoying cough and a fully closed nose.

I nodded. I was glad Rider had gone away for the night. I never wanted him to see this side of me, the side that scared Tilly. Ink led the way, another guy joined us, he introduced himself as Creek, and another guy behind him, Snake. I clenched my fists, preparing for the battle, and tensed my jaw. The door to the basement swung open and the overwhelming stench of piss wafted out. I gagged, “We made sure to keep them in the same conditions as they kept our women.” Ink told me.

I cum first. Squeeze him. Shake all over. He shoots again. Fills me more. Cum bubbles out. Runs down. I collapse on him. Bodies stick. Wet and gross. Infection complete. I rise. Eyes milky. Urge to spread it. We leave the room. Find more survivors. My pussy hurts but craves more. Zeke follows in and his cock dangles, ready. We hunt together; rape and infect. Horde grows. Screams long gone; only moans left.

The shards of the "Infinite Window" did not fall; they drifted through the pressurized air of the boardroom like a rain of diamonds caught in a slow-motion explosion. Silas Blackwood stood at the center of the wreckage, his chest heaving, the "Red Needle" in his hand still vibrating with the frequency of the "Biological Truth" he had just unleashed. Outside, the sky of Sector 0 was no longer a chemical blue. It was a bruised, iridescent violet, as the "Heresy" of the North flooded the human city, turning neon signs into flickering ghosts and steel towers into monuments of unmapped memory.

Nova froze instantly Then came slow shuffling footsteps her grip tightened around the knife. The footsteps dragged closer through the darkness between the aisles. Something growled softly Nova slowly backed away Then a figure stumbled out from behind the shelves and Her stomach dropped instantly. It was an infected and a young one at that she looked no more than twelve as black veins spread across her arms and legs her skin looked as rotten as she looked. Nova backed away slowly trying not to catch its attention when she stumbled over a can the sound instantly cause the infected to look up and when it spotted her it screamed

A happy life. . . **** So these were the last three bonus chapters and an EPILOGUE. I hope you liked the story. Thank you so much for reading it and supporting it. The journey was indeed long, right? Thank you again for loving Hazel and Christian. If you want to read their youngest child's story, you can DM me on my I* for the adress. Their youngest child's story name is "that's my girl" but it's not on Goodnovel. It's a free book.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

“Since we have destroyed Azba, I have no urgent need of him. No large band will appear now till the first grass.” “Is Azba cut to pieces then?” inquired Novoveski. “So cut up that I do not know if twenty-five men escaped; and even those will be caught one by one, if Mellehov has not caught them already.” “I am terribly glad of this,” said Novoveski, “for now it will be possible to go to Rasrkoff? In safety,” here he turned to Basira: “We can take to Sir Rushet the letters which her grace, our benefactress, has mentioned.”