Executioner Resident Evil 5 Novels & Stories

The high-resolution screen of Rhys’s tablet cast a cold, sapphire glow over the dark velvet bedding. The automated alert from the compliance network was still flashing, a digital countdown marking the exact speed of Julian Vance’s impending destruction. Elena sat up, the heavy silk sheet slipping down to rest against the curve of her waist. Her skin was still warm, deeply sensitized by the absolute, unyielding possession she had just surrendered to. Yet, the exhaustion that had plagued her for years was entirely gone. Looking at the digital evidence of Julian’s crimes, a profound, icy clarity settled into her bones. The victim had died in the master bedroom of the penthouse; the woman remain

"EVA MORRISON: ENHANCED HUMAN TURNED MASS MURDERER" "QUANTUM KILLER HUNTS FORMER ALLIES" Except I hadn't killed anyone. Hadn't left the house except for grocery shopping and Grace's school pickup. Hadn't used Generation One capabilities except to phase-shift dirty laundry to washing machine because I was tired and lazy. Someone else was killing with my signature. Someone who could replicate quantum patterns perfectly. Someone who wanted me blamed for murders I didn't commit. My phone rang. Torres. Still with FBI despite Council dissolution.

One of the two men suddenly flung open his coat and what appeared to be a Fostech Origin 12 shotgun came out of his side from the vast collection of guns that were hanging underneath. He emptied it, spraying the security guard with bullets that were being emitted at almost thirty rounds in less than eight seconds before turning back to his counterpart. The sound of bullets threw everyone present in the facility into panic, with people running to hide under their working tables. Moments later, the two men were seen running out of the facility, carrying a large metallic box and got into a truck. ★★★ Mr. Gilbert took over from the reception, applying his knowledge on History with the students f

Willie gazed with his eyes totally open, his face brimming with outrage. As of now, Monica, who had been quiet this while, talked. "There are four kinds of chronic executioners as far as topographical ways of behaving the space type, meandering sort, fixed area type, and interruption type. The Death Judge is a common fixed area type. He would bait or hijack the casualty into a pre-arranged spot to perpetrate a wrongdoing. This sort of chronic executioner has an extremely amazing feeling of arranging and is exceptionally careful in his activities. Also, the Death Judge is a sure and quiet individual. I trust this won't be the final remaining one. He will perpetrate another wrongdoing!"

The High Council Executioner stood amidst the rotting, petrified fungal stalks of Sector 0.1, looking entirely like a creature from another dimension. His immaculate, high-collared white-and-gold trench coat did not belong in the damp, freezing dark. He did not sink into the mud. He did not shiver. He was Valerius, a Falcon-Class Rank 6, and he carried the lethal, sanitized perfection of the Mid-Aerie down into the graveyard of the world.

This is not a place of justice, but of finality, where the murky implements of death await their next task with mechanical indifference—a bizarre reminder that justice’s a motherfucker… and as for memories of them, there ain’t no guarantee either. In the sterile chill of the execution chamber, Dr. Percy moves like a shadow. His steps are light, purposeful, and filled with a macabre elegance that belies the horror about to unfold. The room itself, while meticulously clean, carries the weight of a thousand deaths—each more grotesque than the last. The faint hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitors create a evocative symphony, punctuated only by the occasional cl

Without a moment of hesitation, Hills pulled his secondary weapon a pistol from his waist and turned to the back. Blackie also aimed his sniper rifle toward the back with a low grunt. But the moment they turned around, their necks were slashed by a dagger in a swift motion. Blood flowed out of their throats as they fell to the ground like to the chickens. The life in their eyes began to fade away as they lay on the floor, they died with their eyes fixated on the tall man standing in front of them. This man was none other than Agent 5 from the Shadow Elite's Squad. Meanwhile, inside the private room at Mystic Club. When the hunt was having a toast with a East Asian man.

A forty-ton block of granite masonry came crashing down through the ceiling of the chasm, obliterating the entrance to the drainage pipe and sending a massive wall of gray dust billowing across the river. ​The executioner was thrown backward by the blast, his axe slipping on the wet stone as the silver vial bounced across the tilted platform, landing exactly three inches from Elara’s bare feet. ​"The asset is secured," Garrett’s voice was a ragged, bleeding whisper from the corner of the ledge. He had managed to crawl to a secondary backup console embedded in the wall, his bloody fingers frantically punching codes into the ticking brass dials. "The Sixty-Sixth Tier... manual override... init

Tears fall down my face as I walk out of the room and to the execution field. The entire pack is waiting for me as I approach, and they all clap wildly as I walk up and hug Judith. “I already told them what was happening. They know why we are here. They support you.” Judith whispers to me. Turning my attention back to the pack, I plaster my best neutral face before speaking to them. “This, I hope, is the first and last execution you will ever attend that I must lead.” My words fail me as I watch Onyx sit in his Alpha chair in the pack's center. “It is under my and King Aiden’s ruling that it is declared that this execution takes place today. Executions are not something we ever wish to perfo

Zachery tossed the lifeless corpse casually onto the floor like a broken rag doll. ​The brutal execution lasted less than twenty seconds. ​Bettoni stared at the dead body from under the desk. She was absolutely terrified. She realized exactly how easily Zachery could snap Ardon's neck if he ever truly wanted to. The Commander was a walking weapon of mass destruction. ​Zachery let out a heavy breath. He wiped a stray drop of the assassin's blood off his jawline, turned around and looked directly under the desk. ​The feral killer vanished from his eyes instantly. The lewd and shamelessly perverted husband returned like he never left.