Cursed Gun Novels & Stories

Zilla screamed so bitterly as he rushes Fisher but all he could get is his ashes. Fisher was burnt down to ashes just by a shot of a gun? that gun is not ordinary, it can seriously terminate anybody's life. Meanwhile, Wisdom and his team were watching what is going on, they couldn't give help. The truth is that all the soldiers have this very gun. It appears that they are not even safe at all, many may pass away at this very moment of theirs.

And she just wanted to make something delicious to Aiden that she could find in his kitchen. “Fuck! You're a heartless man. You damned sniper!” Calistha cursed angrily while pounding her pillow brutally. But a second later she remembered the gun, and immediately took the black weapon from her cupboard. She wanted to let out all her annoyance right now by shooting something. After all she also had to keep practicing to hone her skills with weapons, and she felt this was the right time to do so.

The man mumbled with a hoarse voice, bringing his head down and looking sideways to continue making his list — something he was doing before she showed up. "El Depredador, Sobek Special, Double Clutch sniper guns, El Rubi and Ciervo Macho shutguns as well. I'm hoping you'd have the aforementioned here tonight." She gruffed, dropping a cheque on the table before him. He lifted up his head slowly to take a closer look at her as she drew near to him with those words coming out from a young teenager's lips.

No one knows this code but me, even Chad doesn’t know it. The electronic padlock makes a beep and the door of the closet opens. I push it farther so I can get a decent view of the guns. My eyes land on one of the guns that I consider my lucky gun. I have used it to assassinate about twenty two persons, it has never failed me. I even nicknamed it, I call it Betsy. I take Betsy from among the other guns and I also take enough ammo to kill a small army. I just like to be prepared, who knows what may happen.

“Let him choke on it.” Dragon’s hand finds mine, his palm scarred from engine burns and old battles. We’re a matched set, he and I—broken things remade sharper. Outside, engines snarl. Lou Nwa’s bikes form a crescent around the porch, headlights cutting through the swarm of wings. *Not enough. Never enough.* Uncle D racks his shotgun. “Koulye a, nou pran batay la (Now, we take the fight).” This is how curses die. Not in whispers, but in the thunder of hammers reloading. Not in pleas, but in the war cry of a stew pot boiling over with poisoned silver.

he cursed. As George's subordinate sprang into action, disarming the assailant with a swift, decisive move, his eyes blazed with fury at the cowardly act of violence against his boss. Who would have thought that these cowards would bring a gun? Fuck! Guns are prohibited right now due to the war between the two mafias, but now this man has a gun! With a low growl of anger, he spat out a curse at the man responsible, his words dripping with contempt and righteous indignation.

You don’t even know if it’s real. Adrian let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “Real?” he repeated softly. His gaze drifted across the empty field, but he wasn’t really seeing it anymore. “Ever since I was a child, that’s all I ever heard the pack whisper about.” His jaw tightened slightly. “They called me the cursed Alpha…the one cursed for love.” He exhaled slowly. “So tell me, Ragnar… what more do I need to know?” Ragnar stayed silent this time, understanding too well the burden Adrian had carried since he was a child.

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE LUCA POV They were clearly unskilled and unprepared, and they were definitely working for someone else. Damn, I didn’t need more trouble. I tucked my gun back into my pocket and looked at the crates filled with drugs. "I need this shipment processed quickly. I don’t want the police getting too curious," I stated, talking to no one in particular. I turned to Theo. "Get it sorted," I ordered.

He grabbed Meng Fanyong and shouted, "Retreat!" "You want to run? No way!" Wu Di also shouted, took out a strange gun, and chased after them. At the same time, he raised the gun to aim at the man with crew cut and Meng Fanyong, but failed to hit them. This was not a killing gun, but a suffocating anesthetic gun, which could make people faint. Generally speaking, the people of the Special Operations Group would be assigned this kind of special gun, which was a common weapon used to deal with mutants.

He never stopped coming. We ended up outside, on the porch. He had me on the ground, his hands around my throat, squeezing. His eyes were wild. “You’ll never get them,” he said. “I’ll kill you before you touch my sons.” “Your sons?” I laughed, even as his grip choked me. “They’re Damien’s, Harry. Always were. You were just the babysitter.” Something in his face broke. That was when I pulled the gun. Old human tech. Wolfsbane bullets. They wouldn’t have worked before. Not with the curse active. But now…