Izuku X Nagant Novels & Stories

I gulped as his voice frightened m Thereafter, a black van suddenly ission of some kind. The one on the right of me was dramatically shorter than his accomplices while the other guys were both tall, bulky, and rugged. The guy in the middle was the only one holding a gun, an ICS CXP MARS PDW9 to be exact, who looked slightly angelic with his quite long, midnight black hair and blue eye "What are you guys going to do to me?" slowly stepping backwards, I managed to as

His remaining companion turned to face me as well. My favorite ninja wasn't done yet. As the second man turned, Miyako stepped from behind one of the false pylons and kicked the gun out of his hands. The ex-hanging man had the choice of reaching for his dropped Type-05, thus letting me chop him in the back as he bent over or...draw a sword?

Black Bunny didn’t even faze even though her name was also Black. “No.” Firm. “I’m scared of him.” He gestured to the rest of them. They nodded their heads and bowed. “Your Excellency, we will return with a good result,” Izaya spoke on behalf of a few people that he personally chose just now. “Together with your twin?” Hisoka reluctantly separated his lips from that soft cheek. “Shizuo and I will form two groups. We will move independently.” “Alright. Treasurer.” Someone in the mix raised their head.

Marcus moved with a fluid, defensive rhythm, his submachine gun keeping the secondary rank of the garrison pinned behind the stone lanterns of the courtyard. Ren Tanaka fought beside them, his short curved sword a blur of gold light that clashed against the iron naginatas with a constant, rhythmic static. He was bleeding from a shallow cut on his left cheek, his nylon bomber jacket torn to shreds, but his gold Alpha eyes were wild with the manic joy of a rebel who had finally found a cause worth dying for. He parried a vertical strike from a Kurogane captain, his steel blade sliding along the iron shaft before he pivoted and drove his point through the captain’s throat armor, the man collaps

Or like she thought no one would dare try. Linda’s hand brushed against the hilt of the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh. It was old, silver-lined. A gift from an old friend. One she had never thought she’d need to use on pack. Then again, Izzy had stopped being pack the moment she turned on her brother. The trees opened up into a clearing, and there she was. Izzy stood at the edge of the stream, crouched low as she dipped something into the water. A small vial. The liquid inside was dark—thicker than the water should’ve made it.

(Stormy) Dwarves are surely a race of craftsmen, even when they were in hard situation they were still thinking about their works. Also she was very confident about her clan expertise, she took off her shield and hammer then set them on the table, she display the simple mechanism of musket attached to it. The work were extraordinary, I can be said that it was a work of art itself, but still it still fall to the concept of Musket operation, the idea itself were ingenious but the executions were tardy. I asked Sasu for his Handgun, it’s a standard Glock 19 9mm bullets, I pulled it opened from the holster and set it on the table.

I had a bad feeling. Izan immediately pushed a button on the side of the bed, and from the floor unfolded a compartment with two rifles just like the one I had used during the sanctuary attack. He checked them and handed me one; that surprised me. He also took his phone and put it in my pajama pocket.

Don't judge. "Go ahead" Vincenzo says smirking. I look at Liam to see his hands covering his eyes, "I don't mind babe" is what Xavier says looking interested. Vincenzo takes out his gun pointing it at Xavier. "Its loaded" he says carelessly. I look at the gun my excitement coming back to me. " OH MY GOD! IS THAT A DESERT EAGLE MARK XIX?!!" I suddenly shout going towards Vincenzo.

Standing in the doorway—Antonio Franches, gun raised, his gaze cold and murderous. "Touch her again, and I’ll send you straight to hell." The Final Standoff Antonio’s custom Desert Eagle-Silencer was locked onto Renjiro’s head. The tension in the room was suffocating, every breath heavy, every second stretched thin. Cassandra could hear the pounding of her own heart, still trapped in Renjiro’s iron grip. Renjiro—known for his merciless brutality, for his fearless nature—smirked. Slowly, he unsheathed his prized katana, the blade gleaming under the dim lighting.

I sighed and started up the front porch, pissed as hell. "Welcome, boss." It was Kenzo, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a gun strapped to his shoulder. "What's going on?" I quirked my brows at his shoulder. "This?" he asked, pointing to the gun. "Oh, nothing. Tonight, I am joining the men mounting the front porch." "Oh." That was one thing about Kenzo. When the others took knives, he would strap a pistol to his thigh. And when they took shotguns, he would find a way to sneak in a Uzi.