Dead Rising All Psychopaths Novels & Stories

No— He smiled in that sick, calculating way. And then the gunshot. And another. I couldn’t breathe. I sat frozen, my hands numb, knees locking as if standing was no longer an option. The news anchor continued. “Dominic Rossi is seen here in what experts confirm is a direct execution order involving two civilians—both later confirmed dead in an unsolved double homicide last year. Authorities believe this footage will lead to a nationwide investigation into—” The room faded. Not figuratively.

he pick up the pillow that I threw to him and harshly smack it to the bed, then he yells and suddenly laughed. What's happening? Why's his attitude became like this. It looks like he don't have conscience. What kind of person don't have conscience?… A psycho. Yeah. He's a psycho. Bullet is a psycho. That's why he's acting like this. There's no normal people would stalked someone they just knew and pretend to be kind. Just Bullet. Bullet is a psycho. Now my questions was answered by my own too. That's why he can hurt me now because he don't have to hide his real identity.

In resignation, I retreated into a toilet stall, knowing it was a futile attempt to escape. Locking the door behind me offered only a temporary reprieve. I knew it would only delay the inevitable. "Daisy, don't run away from me," he called out. "You know it's pointless, don't you?" I shivered at his words, paralyzed with fear. "Just let me kill you," he continued, his tone twisted and sadistic. "But don't worry, I won't let a beautiful body like yours go to waste. I'll rape it until it's nothing but a lifeless shell." His words sent chills down my spine, and I realized I was dealing with a psychopath.

He doubles over, and I take the opportunity to land an elbow to the back of his neck making him drop to the floor. “Are you ready to die like your friend?” I ask. “Fuck you bitch. You can’t win against our army. Scàthach will triumph and you will all die.” “Ew, can we not do the villain monologue? It’s so annoying and cliché.” I say before I extend my claws and rip his heart out through his back. That was seriously badass and gross, all at the same time. Hey, he’s dead, his friend is dead, and Wyatt is dead. That’s all that matters.

Brief, steam-like hisses accompany the repeated sound of nail guns punching, as the inverted collar spikes sink into human necks, drawing blood and forcing the new slaves to start pushing the huge money bags along. “Sub-level 5: Child-killers, mass murderers and random shooters. Those who bullied the weak. Also the slothful and the morose. If you look to your right, you might catch glimpse of the abominable River Styx.” I smell something like sewer gas and before anyone can scream “God have mercy,” a tidal wave of some nasty liquid has engulfed the elevator. I savor a few precious seconds of peace thinking how like a blessing it would be to finally die in the intangible hands of the element

"I'm a gold digger like that." "Oh, oh, sorry!" "Yeah, I've been drugging you everyday. You're dying a slow death. By this time next year, you'll be dead!!" "Damn it! I should've known from the start!" They shared a good laugh. They laughed at themselves and each other. Their laughter only ceased several seconds later. "Ready to catch a wave?" Damien enquired once they stopped laughing. He grabbed a surfboard as Ashleigh replied, "Oh I'm ready, last time we were here though you kept falling off your board."

Her cries were like music to Clarisse's ears. "Let go, let me go you fucking bitch" "Tell me who those men were and where I can find them" "They're already dead. You killed them" "Where did they come from? They didn't seem like they were from here" no answer "Do you know what's worse than dying? Having an ugly face. Let's see how Reed will like you with all these scars" "I'm a werewolf. I can heal"

"Because I want to." My eyes blink rapidly. Seeing the people that came here, and also knowing that this was the party… bad images formed in my imagination. He is a psychopath, and everyone who works under him is nothing more than a pack of wolves following the alpha. Are they going to do something? Rituals? Would they after feasting kill each other and eat the corpses of those who died at their hands? It's terrible, and it's the result of the dark novels I've always read. But it's not that it's impossible.

I smiled for the lens, picked at the ribbon, and opened it. The smell hit first, metallic and sweet in a way that made my stomach turn. Inside was a teddy bear soaked in fake blood, the fur matted dark, glass eyes staring up at me, and a card pinned to its chest. I only saw the first line before my hands stopped working. YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED AT THE GALA. The box slipped. The bear hit the studio floor with a wet sound that was too loud in the sudden quiet. I shoved back from the couch so hard the legs screeched.

In the dim bar lights, we took our seats on a couch, and the manager brought us a line of male escorts for us to choose from. I pulled out a stack of cash and tossed them onto the table. “Get me the best-looking ones, none of those worn-out guys!” The manager eagerly brought over a few new faces to the front. I clicked my tongue. “Is that it? I thought you said there were two stunners here?” Betsy turned her diamond ring with a knowing glint in her eye. The manager nodded. “Don’t worry, those two will be here any second!” So we waited. After a while, no one appeared. I sighed.