Jeff The Killer Fanart Novels & Stories

So maybe it's better that he is not here. “So, here’s the things we know about the killer. Firstly his targets are all renowned and prominent men in our country. Until now he has had three victims. Mr. Arik Watson- 48 years old. Estimated time of death 1st April 2020, 3.30 A.M. He was a prosecutor who won several awards for bringing justice to the people. Dr. Robert Jonson- 54 years old. Estimated time of death 12th July 2020, 3.50 A.M. He was one of the best general surgeons in our country. Mr. James Brown -50 years old. Estimated time of death 23th January 2021, 3.45 A.M. He was the founder and the Chairman of J.B. Garments company.” And with that, Mr. Anderson gave each of his teammates

“Tsk, you could do something bad to me.” Jeff smiled slightly because his intelligent brain was indeed devising brilliant ideas to rape Cylo until he could no longer walk normally. But seeing his condition, it seemed he had to postpone his brilliant plan for now. His focus now was to introduce himself to this hired killer. “Okay, let's talk.” Jeff stared at Cylo, who wasn't looking at him. “My name is Jefford William Ricardo. I am the leader of the Black Wolf mafia, and I am very interested in you, Cylo.”

I remarked and Kyler chuckled. “The pictures you sent me through the mindlink were wow ! Are you an artist in painting bodies with blood ? The precision of the cuts and the streams of oozing blood were too accurately done !! I could swear you were sending me the images of a painting if I had not seen your victims walking and talking for real ! The artwork was beautiful but gory,” Kyler said with a shudder. “I know you paint red better, babe,” I snorted as I thought back about Kyler’s victims tonight. All of them had been left hanging on a tree and I swear, I would have loved to turn that tree into a Xmas one if he had used actual decorations instead of corpses.

Not even a single try. “What does it say?” I asked, brows furrowing as I rubbed both of my palms to create warmth. The cold had been much cruel today ever since we arrived at the healer’s cabin. I encouraged myself to look at the drawings instead; the art style is pretty much gothic, if not ancient. It wasn’t inked. Hues of black and white were embedded on the golden brown pages of the material. I saw the graphics of a human and a werewolf. They were doing something strange… some sort of a ritual. Elliot did not flip the pages further so I ended up guessing that that was it.

Chris Bradford—that's… that's Killer. Shit!

I have been doing that all these years. “Girl, you good?” a croaking voice I am now familiar with reminding me of my still being alive. I didn’t say a word to her making her sigh loudly. She did not say anything making me believe she was actually gone till the voice came again. “You can’t keep hiding in here forever. You are the bravest skull head I know. You’re a sadist and my dad’s murderer but I can’t help but still like and aspire to be like you. The fact you do not let any man bring you down is everything beautiful. The ‘killer’ the world is afraid of will never act like this. This is far from you being yourself.” Each word whispered behind the door.

Whoever interferes with me, I will kill him and we will both go to hell. ***

“You’ve done it. You’ll do it. You’re going to kill us.” “No!” Malachi shot up, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He ripped it off, looking around the circular office stood as if a time capsule. He hadn't changed anything yet, but his father's body was burnt, so today was the day. He picked up the paintings he had been keeping for this occasion, all painted by his talented best friend. He pushed his deep auburn hair out of his face and got to work removing some of the paintings, he wouldn't remove all of them, his father didn't need to be scrubbed from the walls.

I couldn't believe this was my once favorite uncle, he was my favorite and we got close but after a while I couldn't tell him anything because I knew he was up to something and I distanced myself from him but here I am trying not to break down in front of him. My dad had trusted him but he backstabbed him, and there was nothing I could do to that. He was a traitor and he deserved to be killed brutally like he had done to my parents and pack members. I knew there was nothing anybody could do to him and I had made up my mind to be the one to kill him. I knew I was too young for all this that I'm exposed to but I don't care, and it was now my wish robbe strong for me to be able to fight him.

He grunted, "Captain Hefner, what type of person could this murderer be? He's so arrogant. He not only dismembered his victims but also dared to threaten you." "Not a simple person," Jefferson's reply was meaningless because he had no idea who the killer was as well. In his memory, he couldn't remember that he had offended someone so capable. Perhaps it was the drug dealers, but he had no evidence to point out at them. Furthermore, he had no idea how Stephen looked like.