Combat Pass Bleach Novels & Stories

"Uh... bubblegum, a disassembled drone motor, a half-eaten sandwich, and... oh! The torpedo fuel!" She pulled out a canister she’d siphoned from the torpedo room earlier (because Hailey never walked past anything flammable without taking a sample). "It's Decalin," Hailey grinned. "Nasty stuff. Ignites on contact with strong oxidizers." "And cleaning supplies?" Jack asked. "Under the sink!" Olivia kicked open the cabinet under the galley sink. There were old glass bottles of industrial bleach and ammonia. "Don't mix those unless you want chlorine gas!" Ben warned. "We'll die too!"

Blood spread across the floor in thick pools, staining everything in its path. Still not satisfied, Alejandro stood and searched the room. His eyes landed on two bottles—betadine and ethyl alcohol. He didn’t pour them over wounds. No, he ordered the men to open their mouths. Helpless, they obeyed. He tipped both bottles, letting the burning liquid cascade down their throats. “Swallow,” he warned coldly, “unless you’d prefer I shove bullets down your throats instead.” They swallowed, gagged, and were eyes watering. Alejandro smirked, satisfaction gleaming cruelly. He lied, of course—but he had no need to tell them that.

The blue seal looks like it oozed reddish ink onto the page. I’m not holding a letter. I’m holding a murder weapon. “What?” Sash asks. “I just thought you might want to see it.” “Burning clove,” I mumble. “It’s a contact poison. You have to touch it, the sap, which looks reddish when distilled to full potency.”

For a moment, I was back there in a life I didn’t want to remember, surrounded by faces I’d long tried to forget. I tore my gaze away, heart pounding a little faster. I couldn’t let it show. Not even a hint of that past could resurface. Not here. Not now. I squared my shoulders and nodded at my reflection. “Time to bleach you out of existence.” The smell of bleach filled the tiny bathroom, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. I felt like I was withering away. It was pungent, seeping into every corner, mixing with the dampness of old tiles and mildew. I worked quickly, fingers gloved and precise, painting over every traitorous strand until I was satisfied. I watched as the brown vanished, repla

he informs me as I unlock the door. Once I am in the hallway, I run to my personal bathroom, and still wearing the clothes, I turn on the water. Under the sink, I have a bottle of bleach, and I pour as much as I can over myself. If I could, I would drink it as well. After I use the entire bottle of bleach, I remove my clothes and use what I have left of my soap to wash my hair. I even used it to clean my mouth again. I don’t know what I would do without Safia. She always blocks all the worst parts of my abuse for me.

I smell bleach. BOLA!!!!

He’s barely conscious now, hovering right on the edge of the abyss, his eyes rolling back in his head as the pain completely overrides his brain's ability to process reality. I step back from the table, setting the bloody scalpel down next to the hammer. Reaching for the bottom shelf of the cart, I retrieve a heavy plastic jug of industrial bleach. Twisting the cap off, the sharp, noxious chemical fumes instantly cut through the scent of copper and sweat in the room. "Wake up," I snap, slapping Stefano sharply across the face with my bloody glove. He gasps, his eyes fluttering open, hazy and completely unfocused.

“No, she’s reached the limit where it’s safe. If we take more, she could go into shock. I can’t do that.” Clara snatched the syringe from his hand and plunged it into my arm herself, forcing the full 1000cc out. “What are you afraid of? I told you I’ll take responsibility! My brother is the don.” Blood loss hit me hard. The world dimmed, I went limp, and two guards caught me before I collapsed. Clara glared at me. “Stop faking it. A little blood won’t kill you. I’m not Martin. I won’t be fooled by your act.”

I screamed, pulling my own breather from my kit. I saw Ruan through the haze. He was pinned down behind a stack of pallets, his eyes wide as he saw me approach. He tried to shout, but the sound was drowned out by another explosion. I reached the crate, my hands flying over my medical bag. I knew what this was—chlorine-based, heavy and lethal. I pulled out the neutralizing agent I had prepared at the clubhouse, my heart hammering. "Esmeray, get back!" Ruan roared, lunging toward me as a tactical team opened fire from the jet’s stairs.

The freshly scent of bleach, though faint, is strong enough to churn my stomach. It's the kind of clean that tries too hard... the kind that hides blood. We pass closed doors, the thick and silent things that give nothing away. There are no sounds, no voices or idea of what lies behind them. My eyes flick up to the cameras. There are several nestled in every corner like watching insects in the ceiling. Cold, patient and unblinking.