Bloodshot Comic Novels & Stories

the foundation’s assets through a series of offshore counters. Toby was in a sling, his arm set by a local doctor who didn’t ask questions. He sat on the deck, his eyes fixed on the water, his rifle across his lap. He was no longer just the protector. He was a man who knew that the war wasn’t over. It had just changed its frequency. I sat at my drafting table, the silver music box sitting in the centre. I didn’t wind it. I didn’t look at the tooth. I picked up a piece of charcoal and a fresh sheet of vellum. I didn’t draw a house. I drew a network.

Three bedrooms with military-style cots. Ciro walks to the nearest cot and sets me down. He doesn't let go immediately. He looms over me, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. "Safe," he rasps. Then his eyes roll back in his head. He collapses. "Ciro!" I scream. He hits the floor with a heavy, dead weight. Spadino drops his shotgun. Aureliano spins around. The red stain on Ciro’s shoulder has spread. It covers his entire left side. The retreat is over. The survival begins.

My vampire boyfriend always treated me like his personal blood bag, convincing me that it was all in the name of love. So, no matter how physically miserable I felt, as long as he wanted blood, I silently suffered through the agonizing pain of being drained. When I fainted from low blood sugar during my period, he didn't care or check up on me. He just gave me a cold glare and blamed me for failing to keep supplying him with blood. When I got into conflicts with other classmates and ended up hospitalized with injuries, the only thing on his mind was when I'd be able to bleed for him again. I used to think vampires were just naturally cold, considering he was indifferent to everything at

"Where's Irene? What's happening?" They were in the abandoned room with no light around. She saw a pot with a sort of chemicals nearer. Along, her gaze fell on two boys tied with ropes. Their condition was disturbing. One had lost his upper skin. The scars of injury showed they went through a rough time. There was a mark of the cat's claws all around his eye. His hands seemed to break vigorously. The blood was flowing deep down to his knees, covering them. Even his feet seemed like someone cut them apart.

Balls And waves of red hot fire and golden flames flew like raindrops, knocking its target. The patrols fought for their lives, slashing and trusting their spears and swords to the enemies. Bong and Bato were fighting back to back a black wolf but suddenly the grasses on their feet grew and wrapped them. They helplessly cut the grasses but they just keep growing. Seizing the opportunity, the wolf lunged at the both of them and bit their head off. Bato's perfectly round and shiny head rolled on the ground and was squashed to pulp by a Reaper. Rila stared in horror at her friends. She picked a dagger from her hips and threw it on the plant Badblood. The dagger sunk perfectly on the forehead.

I repeated but with some hostility. "No need to sound aggressive Mr James" said Nicolas. He had a heavy moustache and a big frame and when he smiled, it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We have a message for you" Harold said. "Give me the message and get the hell out" I said. "Its right here" Nicolas said, searching his briefcase. Before I could react, two bullets were immediately lodged into my skull. I saw my life flash before my eyes as I slowly sank into oblivion.

But what caught his attention the more was when he sighted a blowgun being pointed in his direction, and when he strained his eyesight the more, he could see Richard, the Alpha of the blue moon pack with the tree wolves, and a wicked smirk smile on his face. "No..!", He said as he was about to run away, but still looking in the direction of the bushes, he tried taking some steps backwards but was caught with a dart flying swiftly into his left eye. How accurate the shot was as the dart flew directly into the pupil of the right eye, with the poison on the dart having it's effect on him, with his deep red blood slowly gushing out profusely, and slowly the blood colour began to change. "What wa

It was a horrific bloodbath, a scene straight out of a nightmare. As my eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the carnage, the final image etched into my mind was that of Scott covered in blood, his face contorted with sheer madness. Shooting relentlessly at the tires of the SUV. He looked unhinged as if he had completely lost touch with reality...

I leap, rip, and snarl, blood soaking my fur. Too easy. A man fires. Misses. He fumbles. I’m on him in a second. My teeth meet flesh. His scream is short. Another aims. Layla smirks. We bait him. He shoots his own teammate instead. “What the hell—” one of them gasps. “Too late,” I growl. The traitor puts a bullet in his friend’s brain—then one in his own. He fights it. Cries. But obeys.

The first wave of shapeshifters screamed as they were thrown backward. But more came. And more. Steele transformed again. He launched himself into the crowd. Claws tore through shadows. Bodies slammed into walls. I raised my gun and fired. One creature reached me. I shot it. It fell. Then stood again. “Seriously?” I backed away. It smiled. “You carry the First Blood.” My blood froze. Another creature appeared behind it. “And the blood remembers.” The mark on my neck suddenly burned brighter. Golden veins spread across my skin.