Henry Danger Bucket Trap Novels & Stories

"Henry is a magician, an extremely dangerous killer who's already won six times and accumulated five billion in funds. Know what that means? Kill him, and you can get 5 billion." All the players turned to look at Henry, their eyes glowing green like hungry wolves eyeing a piece of meat. Henry finally exploded. "Julia, I will kill you!" The auctioneer interrupted his fury. "200 million, going once! 200 million going twice!" Under the table, I clenched my fists tight. Would he follow or not? "200 million going..." "300 million! I bid 300 million." Henry directly raised the bid to an unbelievable level. In this situation, he needed the safe house more than anyone.

“As everyone is aware of the black Cobra’s attack on me, I have a question from you, Beta Henry. Can you explain why did you place the order from an international shipment from India for a black Cobra, which is the habitat of that specie?” A pin drop silence followed by my statement showed that the audience forgot to breathe after my uncanny query. All eyes fixed on Henry, who was unfazed. His lips curled up in a mean smirk, he rubbed the back of his head. “I am really disappointed to admit my failed trick. That wasn’t for you, Zuriel. It was my gift for Alpha Eddie, who was fortune enough to survive in that car accident.”

Steven opened a door that creaked loudly and then led the way down a narrow staircase. “Fucking hell!” His loud exclamation was followed by a thump. From the kitchen, I heard a deep chuckle, which made my lips twitch. “What the hell is that?” Kieran questioned. “Dad’s old scarecrow,” Thomas answered with a little chuckle of his own. “You always fall for it.” Yellow light suddenly flooded the space. The den, as they called it, was spacious but littered with boxes. A three-seater couch faced a TV that was mounted to the wall. Around it were old purple, red, and green beanbags.

The air down here in the basement laundry room was cool and free of gas, but the darkness was nearly absolute. “Clara? Are you hurt?” Nikolai asked immediately, rolling off the pile and pulling me up by my hands. “I’m okay,” I gasped, sucking in the fresh air. “Where is Henry?” “I’m right here,” Henry’s voice groaned from the concrete floor nearby. He was holding his bleeding shoulder, his breathing shallow. “We don’t have much time. Silas’s men will realize where this chute leads very soon.” Nikolai helped me down from the laundry pile. My mind was spinning fast. We were stuck in the basement again, Henry was shot, and my parents were miles away at a waterfront warehouse.

{Using a silencer is always beneficial, especially in a situation like this} Henry got up from the floor, but before he could do anything, I hit his head hard with my gun's butt, which was enough to make him lose consciousness for a while. I took another pair of handcuffs from my kit and clasped them around his hands. He didn't wince when the silver touched his skin, and his skin didn't burn or turn red, which only meant one thing: he was either a warlock or a hunter.

“Enough to put them down long enough for us to make our escape.” I watched from a distance as Chuck spent most of the day setting his silver traps at every point of entry. He wanted me to help with the warding, but I refused, afraid of triggering one of his traps. It was evident he was a skilled hunter. I couldn’t see a way for the hybrid monsters to break through to the inner most rooms of the home, the ones where the waiting cell of silver stood. My concern was in actually capturing one of them and getting them into the cell without setting off the traps ourselves.

I passed Polly in the hallway. She was pushing a handcart piled with ten or so boxes, arms trembling. Seeing me, she stopped and lowered her head to let me pass. "Distribution going okay?" I asked. "…So-so," her voice hoarse. I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I glanced back. She was still there, hands on the cart, shoulders slumped. The snowlight outside cast pale shadows on her face—white, almost bloodless. The next day, my assistant mentioned casually while dropping off documents, "Mr. Bassett… the employees secretly created a group chat. They call it the 'Cherry Victims Alliance.'"

Aiden agreed. "Okay, shoot two targets, you win a keychain, shoot four targets, you win a keychain and a stuffed dolphin, but if you're lucky enough and get all six targets, you win a water bottle, a gift card and that huge stuffed bear," the attendant finished as he pointed to a huge brown bear nestled on a shelf. "Do you think you can do it?" Katherine asked, as the man handed the darts to Aiden. "Let's find out," He smirked as he took the gun from the attendant.

Adrian snapped, pretending to hit his grinning brother. “Black market? Is that the website? I thought it was a troll?” Everyone turned to Henry; even Carrie frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I received an email from BC Corporation. Someone sent a package to my apartment with a long, expensive Armalite, but there was a logo engraved on it.” Henry defended himself quickly. I grabbed my phone again to record their conversation so Agustin could listen later, but I noticed a shadow far off near a small shed close to the mansion’s yard. I couldn’t make out who it was—it was too dark, and they were wearing a black jacket.

My name is Christian Chambers. I was a long-haul truck driver. In this line of work, once a person was out on a run, he would be gone from home for 10 days to up to half a month at a time. You would eat, drink, and sleep in the truck. After a while, your desires would get pent up. The frustration got unbearable as you would not even have time to relieve yourself. That day, I was doing a long-haul run on the Sicherian-Timbre Highway when I met a young couple halfway along the journey.