Combat Pass Bleach Novels & Stories

Catelyn took out a bottle of saline, a bottle of povidone iodine, gauze, tweezers, scissors and so on. After cleaning the wounds with saline, she stared nonchalantly at his back, which had been injured most seriously. There were several deep scratches on his back, which looked scary. She poured the povidone iodine on the cotton swab and approached a cut. Catelyn put on a malicious expression behind “Cedrick”. Frightened at the sight of her expression, Albert gave a cold shiver. When he looked at Catelyn again, she had returned to her usual sweetness. Albert doubted whether he had had a hallucination.

He, too, was not looking very well and looked at Blake with hostility and fear. “OH, oh, not too soon, no, no. Here let me help you.” Blake said and waved his hand over Hennesey, and a thin, light barrier formed over him, and he began to feel better. “What is this a bioweapon?” Hennesey asked.

It hurts. "It's done now. You can open your eyes, ma'am." She announced and I fluttered my eyes opened immediately. I couldn't see clearly as tears had already clouded my vision. I wiped it away with my other palm. Removing the tissue in my mouth, I sighed in relief. It doesn't hurt that bad anymore. Christabel took care of it and she plastered it.

They were meant to be nesting for Goddess sake. Then open some windows, I’m almost done. Opening a window isn’t going to help, it’s on everything you’ve touched on your way in, the door handles, the wall. It’s on the clothes you’ve taken off too Go outside then There’s bleach under the sink, Gaz ground out, taking his mates advice and heading outside. We are going the wrong way! Breeth snapped, smoke spewing from his mouth and nose. I promised our little mate she would be punished for such endeavours…

But the lemon smell is overpowered by the horrible scent permeating the room. “What’s that awful smell?” I say, waving my hand in front of my nose. “It sucks to have a sensitive wolf nose right about now,” Callan says. “This is bleach. It’s the only thing I could think of to get the bloodstains off the floor.” “Is Ethan okay?” I ask, sitting my backside on one of the chairs. “Other than a bad hangover, he’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Callan grabs a pink-stained towel and wipes the water and bleach from the floor.

His startled scream follows me to the table where I wipe the excess blood from my hands. There's a bottle of water and a decanter filled with scotch with glasses beside it. I fill up a glass with scotch and take a few sips before placing it back on the table. Stooping to get the bleach from the ground, I turn back to Kostas who is finally silent and trying to breathe through the waves of pain. Kneeling to my art on his leg, I open the bottle, the smell sharp enough to sting even through the air. I tilt the bottle watching the clear liquid as it trickles before becoming a steady stream moving through his wounds. Kostas jerks as the bleach eats into the cut tissue letting out gasps of pain.

I say as I punch the wall in frustration. I have to think of something. “Bleach.” I say to myself with a smile. I could use bleach since I don’t have the drug I wanted to use. Injecting someone with it or drinking it could lead to death. This is the only choice I have. I exit the room and I look around for a maintenance closet, somewhere where things like bleach are kept. I walk down the stairs and I can hear Robert’s footsteps as he continues his search. The silence in the house is deafening. Everybody has gone, even the rest of the guards.

He remembered her words and without any thought, he darted out of the roots of the tree. Alex watched in calm as Weaver opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when the motion of a red blur shot out from underneath the slightly uprooted roots of a tree. Weaver was about to give chase but was stopped by Alex, who gently bit down on his tail. "Do not give chase." Alex said firmly and Weaver pulled his ears to his head but nodded while looking into the direction the red blur had run in.

“/Daylight in three, two, one-/ God of the Day, grant your light! So mote it be!” As the wave of dark-clothed, fanged figures fall upon us, a flood of brilliant light meets them. It sends many of them squealing and wheeling backwards, only to face the misty grey ranks of figures that now mass beyond them. Warriors with weapons drawn, the flailing hooves of a huge black horse and the sweep of it’s rider’s rapier, and the snarling form of a mighty, ghostly hound. The few vampires who were protected with sunglasses and masks, or who escape the ghosts by turning again, are hit by a cone of water from the large plastic blaster Tala has pulled from her bag. There is the hiss of a quenched furnace.