John Travolta Lost Gif Novels & Stories

GIOVANNI'S POV On the screen, Vlad Kuznetsov. He was in the driver's seat of a nondescript getaway car, smirking, his eyes glinting with malicious triumph. In the back seat, slumped against the window, was Tristan. Unconscious. Tied. His mouth sealed with tape. My world narrowed to a pinprick of pure, unadulterated rage.

It wasn't a good try — his vision was on the edge of blackening out, he felt it. "...! Missed tutoring…!" His grandmother's words flew right in his head, squeezing themselves in his ears but no…he did not hear anything — His grandmother was still was still talking and spitting questions left and right but it was enough, Travis's legs finally gave in and he lost all control of his body. There he collapsed to the floor and the last thing he saw was a silhouette rushing in his direction. Was it his grandmother? —— [A Few Hours Later!] A frown — a hideous frown swiftly pasted itself across the forehead that was glistening with tiny dots of sweat dangling all over. A pain pierced into his head —

Travanto let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, dragging a hand through his short blond hair. "Do you know how many men I lost today?" His voice was a deadly whisper, laced with barely contained rage. Jeremy said nothing. Travanto’s fist slammed against the dashboard. "Twenty-three! Twenty-three of my best men, Cali! Gone. Do you hear me? Fucking gone!" Jeremy’s jaw tightened, but his hands stayed steady on the wheel. "I didn’t ask you to come, Petrovich." Travanto let out a harsh, humorless laugh, his fingers curling into fists.

His legs are bound together with chains and a giant lead ball is attached, not allowing him to swing and potentially kick me. "Hey, dick face, wake up," Trev hollers as he goes over and slaps the guy across the face. They guy stirs and instantly schools his face into an expressionless mask. Trev procedes to load the video and the guy watches it while I watch him for any reaction. To my utter surprise he smirks and then tries to laugh. No fear crosses his face and I know instantly that this is going to be a waste of our time. Time that I don't have at the moment.

The slow-motion clip of my walk (coat flaring, red soles flashing, smile like death) hits two hundred million views by lunch. Whitford Tech drops another 11%. Theo is photographed leaving a dive bar in Palo Alto at 2 p.m., drunk, unshaven, sobbing into a burner phone while paparazzi scream questions about paternity and prison. The video goes viral before he even gets to his car. He trips over a curb, drops his phone, and when he bends to pick it up, his face is red and swollen, tears streaming down his cheeks as he yells at the cameras.

"As for Elena, that is karma between the two of you. It has nothing to do with me. Whether it's revenge or atonement, that's your own drama." I turned my head away, no longer looking at him, and spoke softly to Julian: "Drive. Don't miss the plane." "Sophia—!" With the roar of the engine, Dante's fingers slipped off the window one by one. In the rearview mirror, I saw him collapse to his knees in the middle of the highway, wailing toward the receding car. The figure grew smaller and smaller, finally turning into a speck of dust in the sunset. ... Years later, a cold winter night.

“Why are you still so stubborn? Your parents are being driven to death by your selfishness! Is your pride really more important than their lives?” Looking at my dad lying unconscious on the ground, and my mom on the verge of breaking down, I closed my eyes and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. Forcing myself to endure the humiliation, I finally said, “Liam, I’m sor–” Before I could finish, the roar of engines suddenly echoed from the end of the street. The packed crowd split apart instantly, and a convoy led by black Hummers pulled to a stop right in front of me. Someone in the crowd recognized the person stepping out of the lead vehicle and gasped.

My heart was beating fast and I could see Gina's legs shaking even as she stood in front of me. They approached us and as they were about to jump on us as all hope seemed lost, a figure burst into the scene, kicking the lead terrorist with precision and skill. The man flew across the hallway, crashing into the wall. As we looked up in shock, I saw a familiar face. It was Miss Eleanor's brother, Travis Rider. He stood tall, his eyes blazing with determination, his fists clenched and ready for action as he punched one, two and three ruthlessly. His emerald green eyes glowing like a premordial beast.

YOU'RE NOT HELPING BENEDICT AND I REALLY THINK THIS IS NOT A PLACE WHERE YOU SHOULD BE CRACKING UP YOUR DAD JOKES! "Like I would believe you, we did that titanic pose too, on the Titanic that is sinking right beside us. He loves me. I'm his Rose and he's my Jack, he even painted my picture, I mean drew my picture." Travis said while flipping his long hair, yeah long hair. I guess it's a wig but he didn't show mercy to me as he left my right hand to flip his fucking wig.