Hitman Cartoon Novels & Stories

“Yes. You saved me from that mafia leader who tried to rape me.” The memory hit her.. Her body stiffened as images flashed through her mind: the rain-soaked alley, Leonardo, the underworld king, his eyes full of lust, his hands rough on her body. She had been so close to giving up that night until Smith appeared, shot Leonardo dead, and dragged her into safety. She shook her head quickly, as though trying to push the memory away.

"Then I hope you’re ready to die." He opened his eyes—and all hell broke loose. Carter launched forward. His fist crashed into Damien’s jaw with a sickening snap, sending him stumbling back, “You wanna hit someone? Hit someone who hits back, you entitled piece of shit!" Damien wiped the blood from his mouth, grinned like a man who’d lost it completely, “I guess it’s time to make it even then!”

Chapter 2 “if your daddy doesn't bring my money in the next thirty minutes, I bet you, you'll kick the bucket.” AHEM he cleared his throat, adjusting his red polka dotted tie. He took a long drag from his cigar and then plodded out. Wincing and groaning I tugged the manacles but it was futile. Minutes later, the bald dude and bulry guy on red T-shirt processed in. “That chair that you are sitting on. Do you know it's an electric chair?”

He lifts the bat and smashes his hand where it's tied to the chair. "I won't hurt them. I was only paid half the money. I'll leave, and you'll never see me again." Cyrus begs. I lift a golf club and walk over to him. "I heard that you're new at being a hitman. Well, let me give you a little lesson. You don't contact the family of the person you're trying to kill, or it will only result in your death." I swing the club and hit his face, making blood pour out of his already broken nose. I swing again, hitting him in the head, leaving a large gash. Dakota's right; we don't always need guns. Some people aren't worth the bullet. I look at the two men standing behind him.

The middle aged hitman replied, darting his gaze to Liam's wallet so he could open it. "Well, it's your loss." Liam said, his face forming a smug smile. And the reason for his smile was because he knew the hitman was about to get the shock of his life when he opened the wallet. Inside the wallet was his black card, and it had his name, and usually people would get shocked when they saw his last name. Opening Liam's wallet the hitman took out the black card, and the moment he looked at the name stylishly written on the card, his stomach turned and his eyes almost came out of the sockets in shock.

He answered simply and proceeded to leave. Ricci knew he was the most efficient hitman around, and that title did not come easy. Heck, if he wanted to take all of them and their families out, he knew he would be able to pull it off. “You can’t tell anyone about what we spoke about, or…” his voice trailed off, he looked down at himself, as if just realizing he was naked. He looked away from Orlando unable to look him in the eye, the stormy grey eyes were unsettling, “About us, what you saw here.”

One was bobbing her head sloppily while the other licked his balls, both making wet, obscene sounds. “Fucking hell,” I snarled, slamming the door behind me. “I told you I was coming. Can’t you keep your dick in your pants for five minutes? Do your job fast. We have important shit to discuss.” The hitman let out a lazy groan of pleasure, thrusting lazily into the mouth of the girl on the left. He didn’t even look ashamed. Instead, he clapped his hands twice. The two girls pulled off his cock with wet pops and scurried out. Moments later, the door opened again and two new women entered.

I mean if you’re going to hire someone to kill me at least hire someone of my own calibre, this is just insulting. Deciding to make quick work of things, I pull Crimson from my ankle strap, tilt his head forward and run the blade across his jugular. This fucker isn’t worth my time. I discard his body to the side and with a knife in one hand and a gun in the other, I get up and turn my attention to Lowell. He looks like he’s shitting bricks. I move closer as I hear the sounds of Mr Hitman choking on his own blood. He’ll be dead soon. “I don’t know who you are, or who he is. Just please don’t kill me. I won’t say anything I swear,” he pleads. Using the butt of my gun I land a couple hard hits

"You know why I call him Bitch? Do you know what he was sent to Sin Pack for? For killing people, and he killed over twenty people at once." I was shocked, and not only a little scared thinking that I had just had a problem with him. But soon Madman's words allayed my fears. "Do you know how he killed people? He's a trainer, the kind that specializes in teaching people to lift weights. He doesn't play music in his gym, he plays 'Tom and Jerry'. One time during training just put on the funniest episode, more than twenty trainees laughed until they smashed themselves to death, and he came in."

And the way he made me feel, like I wasn’t just a shadow or a ghost passing through. I cursed under my breath, pulling my eye away from the scope. “This is ridiculous,” I hissed. I steadied myself, tried again. Through the scope, Rafa leaned forward, gesturing with his hand, lips moving as he spoke to the men around him. The perfect opportunity. The shot lined up. My finger twitched. And I still couldn’t do it. “Fuck it.” I shoved the rifle down, rage bubbling up in my chest. Never in my life had I hesitated. Not once. My reputation existed because I was cold. Detached. Professional. Emotionless. That’s why I picked this path because nothing touched me. Nothing mattered. I didn’t become the