Falcon Punch Novels & Stories

Falco pupils dilated seeing him cover the distance before he could even blink. In the fraction of second, Varun fist reached his face. The moment his knucklebones touched his cheeks, Falco felt as if someone poured a molten magma inside his ears. His senses immediately went numb. A sound of cracking bones manifested followed by a loud resonating shockwave. ~BOOOOOOM Falco's feet lifted off the ground and he was sent flying, 24 meters away. The air boomed with tremors. The strength behind the punch was almost like a dynamite explosion. The strike sent his battered body in the air like a bloody spinning top.

Don’t be a damsel in distress. *PUNCH* Don’t let them see you cry. *PUNCH* Stick to your guns. *KICK* Fuck Malachy and that bitch, Mirabella. * PUNCH *PUNCH *PUNCH Fuck everyone! *KICK *KICK *KICK *KICK *KICK*

Pierce. The meeting with Don Massimo went better than expected. His loyalty was intact, his words promising, his respect for the Plaza still unshaken. But what unsettled me were two uninvited guests meandering in Milan. He leaned back, cigar smoke puffing from his mouth. "Your mother’s been asking around for Falcon." He announced. That name alone made every nerve on my body rise. I knew exactly who Falcon was, a bottom-feeding hitman with a special taste for psychological terror for women. He didn’t just kill women, he destroys them first. Leaves them broken and violated, begging for death before delivering the final blow.

Falcon is a pretty big rental company, so obviously, there can’t possibly be a way which they won’t capture the faces of their renters, ad have some sort of identification for them… The drive to Falcon takes nothing more than forty five minutes and its few minutes to ten am when Marsh and Halloway pull up outside. Walking inside with the confidence of a made detective who has come to resolve a case, to close a case and catch a criminal, he raises his eye at the mid twenties teenager working the desk. “Travis, I presume?” He mutters as he raises his badge for him to see. “I would like to see the video recording of ‘Reeds Whitby’ who came to borrow an Audi R8 on the eighth of last month.” Trav

She turned to face me and gave me puppy looked. " Please..He's so handsome and I mean if I have a picture with him, together then I'll be the most popular in school." She handed me a print of Mr. Falcon, the industry's biggest and best showbiz entertainment company, The Stell. Falcon Entertainment, and I overheard that they also own a building, a sports car, a hacienda, and a lot more. I stared at him, and he, of course, stared back at me, the picture.

“How’s the old man, Falcone?” Falcone ran a hand over his face, the ink on his skin shifting with the movement. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “He found a new hobby.” “New hobby?” “You’ll soon see. And he’s growing impatient.” Ethan let out a low chuckle, nodding slightly. “Patience has never been his strong suit,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone, though his eyes remained sharp. Falcone’s smile widened, revealing a glint of teeth as the convoy of cars began to move, the Mercedes-Benz flanked by two more identical vehicles. The procession drove off the private runway and out onto the open road, the Parisian landscape stretching out before them.

Then he went back to smiling cunningly. "So far you haven't been of any use to me, Falcon. And I thought you're a good for nothing douche bag who wasted his money on buying subscriptions for models like these to see them nakêd. Never thought your obsession with that stuff would actually come in handy for me. For once, I’m actually glad you waste your money on this stuff." "I feel like I've been shot in the heart!" Falcon clutched his heart dramatically. "You think I spend my money on these women who pose nakëd for pèrverts to buy their meals!"

What the hell was that feeling? I pushed it down immediately. Falcon turned toward me slowly, those scarred eyes lighting up with something close to amusement. “Fort,” he said smoothly, like we’d just run into each other at a polite dinner. “A pleasure to see you.” I tilted my head slightly, taking everything in without reacting too much. Elon’s condition. The ropes. The setup. Everything. Then I spoke. “Let her go.” Falcon smiled. “I can’t do that.” He was the kind of man who enjoyed dragging things out, testing limits just to see how far he could go.

And it was going come back and bite him in his ass. Someone help me out my dumb stupid self, please. Sorin pleaded mentally. Sorin's mobile pinged indicating he had a message and it woke him up from his self depreciating thoughts. Removing the phone from his pocket he saw his screen light up with the message Where are you? from Maceo. I am going to the ring to fight Sorin typed back. Why? I thought you didn't have any fights for today? Maceo replied. Just want to Sorin again replied.

Not to mention how she managed to go about without making much sound. "Are you okay?" Falcon asked, tugging at Peggy's reins. I didn't get a chance to reply as Deli's whip came at us, almost slicing off one of Peggy's wings. Turns out Peggy wasn't her target, Falcon was. The whip snaked around Falcon's arm, yanking her off Peggy's back. "Catch her, Peggy!!" I yelled, charging at Deli. She flashed me a grin as her whip let go of Falcon midair, coming down for me. It was fast, really fast.