Gin Death Bleach Novels & Stories

he groans before snapping his fingers and we were back in Mika's house "Hehe," I grin before walking out of the bathroom with Death following and then stepping into Mika's room. I put my hands on Death's chest trying to push him out, but he smirked down at me standing up without even faltering a little. Before I was able to say anything, Death and I both ducked as a knife went flying over us. "Mika!" I shout turning around to her quickly, hoping that there are no more weapons in her assault. "Oh, I'm sorry," She says smacking my hand before knocking our fists, "Who's this?" She asks before looking at his face and jumping back

Black clothes, black hat, silky silver hair that fell to her hips. The last member of the Black Organization. Gin, he's back for revenge. But it's late. "Damned" **** Well...seems like I'm not dead yet. And how the hell am I going to die? I've faced the mafia many times but haven't died yet, this bullet is not a dry monkey. Even so, the numbing pain in my right chest was still so painful that I couldn't move vigorously.

At least Blood Night Pack wanted to give me a very easy death compared to what I was seeing. They were planning on poisoning me. It wasn't that painless but at least it was much better than whatever happened here. Whoever killed this person took their time, meticulously. Who knows if they did it here in the basement or was it done somewhere else? I couldn't see any splatter of blood but there was this awful smell of bleach that had been poured all over the floor and even after many years I suppose, it had mixed with the pungent smell of blood and rotten flesh.

she grins. Invidia rises from her chair, pulls a small vile out of her back pocket and holds it up to the candlelight. Inside the vile is a silver liquid, a liquid I presume to be God’s blood, but it looks different…it’s not the vibrant silver I’ve seen the few times I’ve witnessed a God bleed. It’s darker, almost a gunmetal colour. It’s as if the mingling with human DNA, the process of abstracting it or maybe the thousands of years of being separated from the source has diluted its potency or warped it in some way.

He gaggled it, trying not to swallow but since he had been held down and his head kept in place, he couldn't throw it out. He ended up in a coughing git. “That was to warn you. That was water.” I dropped the can on the side and picked up the real can of bleach. “This is bleach. I'm sure you can tell.” As I opened the can, the smell filled the room and I saw the way his pupils shook when he smelt it. “Now will you tell me what I want to hear or you'd make me actually do this? I'm sure you know what this would do if I poured it down your throat. From your mouth, down your throat, to your stomach and then everywhere else.”

Cedric POV The car reeked of bleach, blood, and that sharp, metallic copper smell that always comes with the mess. It was in the air, in the seats, even in the damn leather. I leaned back in the plush seat of the Bentley, pulling off my gloves and wiping my hands with a damp cloth. It didn’t do much. The scent was there, lingering in the fabric no matter how many times I tried to scrub it out. It stuck to everything, a constant reminder of the shit I have to deal with.

They followed me into the elevator and kept looking at me as we waited for the doors to open. I walked ahead to the bathroom while Nick and Nataly continued to Lynda’s office. I stood there and looked at myself in the mirror. ‘What have you done? Who are you, Jericho?’ I had never before in my life experienced guilt as it hit me all at once. The door opened and Lynda walked inside as I washed Robert’s blood from my hands. “Death at approximately nine seventeen. Positive confirmation at the morgue,” I said to Lynda. I kept washing my hands, the blood had been washed off but I kept washing them. Lynda finally closed the tap and took my hands in hers.

Every second that ticks by is another chance for someone to walk in, to see this nightmare. I stumble toward the kitchen, my legs unsteady, the pain in my head a constant drumbeat. The linoleum is cold under my bare feet, and I brace myself against the counter, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I need to clean this up little by little before they arrive, at least enough to buy time until he and his crew arrive. I yank open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a bottle of bleach, a sponge, and a pair of rubber gloves. My hands tremble as I slip the gloves on, the rubber snapping against my wrists. The smell of bleach stings my nose as I pour it onto the sponge, the liquid sloshing ov

Anthony asked again. "Murder." Anthony sharply turned his head to the assistant detective. "What?" "Murder. Many murderers use bleach to dissolve the bodies of their victims after killing them, and also clean up. Those two are going to murder someone..." ***** In the next twenty minutes, Portia and Cora were able to get all the packs of bleach into the basement. Portia held the knife as she opened the door of the cubicle on the left while Cora handled the right. "Wakey wakey! Time to die, little boy," Cora said in a nasal voice as she woke Jayden, who had fallen asleep by the door. She dragged him out by his collar.

There should be more than thirty slices on his body. She was getting mentally drained watching this; she tightened her eyes, and tears streaked down her cheeks. When she opened it again, the soldier that had left before came back holding a bottle of bleach. Gia felt her world go off. The man opened the bottle and handed it over to Zayne, who turned to Aaron and lowered his head, saying, "This is the last stage of pain, severe pain." "Gia, shut your eyes," Aaron breathed, "don't watch this."