Body Shot Novels & Stories

“You will see me again, and we will be together.” BANG! “No, you won't,” Ace shot him in the crotch. “But you will see me in hell.” BANG! Ace fired the 6th bullet, it went straight through his forehead. Harrison Mobley's lifeless body fell to the floor with a loud SLAM.

Oh shit. Everything went into slow motion, and I could see the knife almost touching my stomach, with the assailant smirking evilly because he had the upper hand. But then I heard a gunshot and saw a bullet hit my attacker's hand, causing him to lose his grip on the knife and scream in agony, and it was followed by another bullet being shot to my attacker's head, causing all of his blood to splatter in front of me and killing my attacker instantly, and his body dropping above my own, which had fallen to the ground.

Whiskey. I have been moulded into the perfect weapon, able to kill and destroy anyone that I come face to face with. And this human thought he could take me out with a mere bullet. So naive and clueless. His mouth dropped open as he realised that he missed me both times, then he proceeded to empty his magazine. Firing shot after shot until he had nothing left. My body moved and glided through the air, dodging the bullets effortlessly. As I straightened my posture and glared over at him, he dropped the gun and raised his hands in surrender. A laugh burst forward before I could stop it.

The back of my knees slammed against the bed, and I fell onto the mattress. He reached for me again. A gunshot shattered the room. The man froze. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then blood bloomed across his white shirt. His body crumpled onto the floor. Silence. Heavy footsteps echoed from the doorway. Slow. Steady. Deliberate. The same footsteps. Amber eyes. Deep voice. He lowered the pistol as though shooting a man was no more troublesome than swatting a fly. His gaze drifted from the corpse...

"Let's get to work." A couple of minutes later, a lot of them are in a big old workout routine. I make sure that they all participate in a shootout - a simple one to warm them up and also give a consequence to failure. Anyone that wasn't up to the task actually got shot, and while the bullets aren't exactly real, it doesn't make it any less painful for them.

He lowered the cloth and grabbed his real weapon, preparing for the final showdown. Edward's fingers tightened around the grip of his gun as he fired three quick shots. The first bullet struck with precision, hitting the man's forehead before his body slumped lifelessly to the sand. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, broken only by the low growl of waves crashing against the shore.

His body sagged like dead weight. Suddenly, pain lit up his back—sharp, hot. A bullet. It punched through his shoulder, but his healing energy hissed it into steam almost instantly. His scales thickened over every inch of him. He dropped the corpse and turned. Sharko was unloading everything he had, emptying his magazine straight at him, hands shaking. When it clicked empty, he cursed and snatched a weapon from one of his own men. “Die, you motherfucker!” Sharko howled, backing up in panic.

He lifted her easily into the back of his truck, shut the door with a hollow thud, then retrieved her phone and smashed it repeatedly against the pavement until it was nothing but fragments of plastic and shattered glass. He swept the pieces into a nearby bin, climbed into the vehicle, and drove. The city lights thinned the further he travelled, giving way to the barren outskirts where civilisation dissolved into emptiness. At a lonely ditch off the road, he stopped, hauled the body out, and rolled it down the incline like discarded evidence. Dust rose. Silence closed in. He didn’t look back. Then he got in the truck, turned the key, and drove away, leaving the darkness to swallow everything

then collapsed, thrashing on the floor. "My eyes! My eyes!" Silvio walked closer, calm and almost casual. He raised his gun and pointed it at the man writhing on the floor, still clutching at the melted mess of his face. A single shot cracked through the air. The man's body jerked violently before collapsing, limp. The bullet had punched straight through his forehead Blood exploded everywhere, covering the floor and a droplet of blood landed on Silvio’s cheek. He pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the blood from his face, then looked down one final time at the corpse. No expression. Just silence.

Whiro says in exasperation as he limps over, shoving one of them. The moment he shoves the competitor, we watch in horror as his body collapses into several pieces, as do the competitors beside him. The moment their body pieces hit the floor like dominos, their bowels and other internal organs spill out onto the hardwood floor followed by a gush of blood as it drains from their bodies. A couple people scream in horror while another throws up into their mask and I try not to throw up at the thought of that. This is exactly why I make sure I’m not the first to walk into a room.