How To Fix A Switchblade Novels & Stories

She gave me an earpiece that was a bit invincible. "Don't engage with the device on his chest," she instructed. "Don't touch it, or draw attention to it. Just talk to him calmly. Let him say what he needs to say." She put her hands on my shoulders. "And if he shows any sign of becoming unstable, you run. Don't look back." I nodded. "I mean it. Run huh??" "I understand." She stepped back and an officer lifted the police tape. I walked toward Lincoln High School alone.

The red plastic ball fit snugly between my teeth and the strap was quickly fastened behind my head. “Now,” he drawled with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, “for the fun part.” He pulled a small switch blade out of his pocket. My heart jumped into my throat and my eyes grew wide. There was a round of laughter from all of them. “Hold her arms out,” he instructed with a grunt.

Viper bellowed, and suddenly the air erupted with bullets from his men. “Go! Now!” Blade roared again. I dropped to my knees at the manhole, shaking so hard I could barely keep my grip on Cruz. “How do I—” “Pull the damn cover!” Blade yelled. My fingers fumbled against the iron disk. It wouldn’t move. My palms slipped, slick with blood. “It’s stuck!” “Move!” Blade shoved past me, gripping the edge and heaving with all his strength. With a screech of metal, it slid free. “Get him down there!”

I didn't wait. Slid sideways into the gap. Scalpel up under a guard's armpit. Into the nerve plexus. Ripped out. Left hand on his failing wrist. Twisted. The scimitar went loose. Caught it midair. Backhand toward the chains. Three full spins. The blade never struck the chain. The tip wedged into the cotter pin gap. Connecting ring to wall anchor. Momentum and mass pried the pin from its rusted socket.

the heavier set kid answered without hesitation. "Shut up, Nate! She doesn't need to know about that. She's going to be dead anyway. Along with her granddaughter!" the shorter, tan-skinned kid snapped as he pulled out a switchblade. A huge grin formed on his face as he opened it, his eyes fixated on me. A knife. A basic knife. Not a single special thing about it. The other two immediately followed his lead, pulling out their own switchblades as they attempted to intimidate me. Cute .....

He must not have anticipated my move. My blow stuns him but unfortunately, he does not double up in agony. Instead, he lashes out with an arm and catches me by my throat before flinging me back into the cold hard floor of the room. Then, in one swift motion, he slams the door shut with the back of his foot. I am up on my feet again but the sudden sound of a metallic click stops me in my tracks. The sound is very specific, it is the snap of a switchblade.

When both feet were against the floor, she leaned forward to stand and almost fell right over. It took a moment’s concentration to force her muscles into complacency. She straightened her legs and sidled forward, breathing heavily. She saw the switchblade on the floor. She gripped the side of the bed to lower herself to the carpet, where she picked up the knife. Beneath the cheap motel room lighting, she examined it. The blade was sticky with residue. Blood? She pushed into the bathroom and sat down to do her business. She flushed, rose, and leaned over the sink.

She smiles at Kai and nods. She picks up one of the throwing knives. She shows him how it works. “It’s fully flexible, and soft when it’s turned off.” She wafts it, and hands him the thing, he turns it over in his hands. “Feels like fabric almost.” She nods, then, holding it carefully, making sure not to cut Kai when she does, she turns it on. A small electrical current flows into the fabric and it becomes flat and rigid. Kai turns it over carefully, and tests the edge. “That’s a sharp knife.” She smiles,

My switchblade was already in my hand, its weight familiar and steady, and I thrust it forward, the steel glinting in the dim lantern light. “Don’t you dare come in,” I warned, my voice a low growl, edged with the promise of violence. Klaus’ dark eyes flicked to the blade, and a harsh, mocking laugh rumbled from his chest. “You plan to stop me… with that?” His tone dripped with contempt, his lips curling into a sneer as he took a step closer, his broad frame filling the doorway like a storm cloud rolling in.

They keep arguing in voices carrying, “How can I trust you to keep her away forever, Zayne might find her again, but not if she’s dead her scent will die with her” “How to get to that knife without dragging attention to me, I inch sideways, using my knees until the knife is between both knees, I lean slightly, my fingers patting blindly on the blankets until my fingers meet the hard handle of the blade. I keep my face calm, my eyes on them as I turn it in my hand holding the blade upwards and begin to saw through the roap. Going as slow as I can so I don’t nick myself with the poisoned blade, they will scent the blood or worse I might pass out again.