Joker's Knife From Dark Knight Novels & Stories

I felt him watching me, hungry wolfish eyes drinking me in and trying to see through the remaining skimpy fabric. "Every. Thing," he reminded me. "Did I fucking stutter, Zelda? Right the hell now." I took off my bra, but crossed my arms in front of my body protectively. Jake paled and in a flash, he was next to me. He pulled something out of his pocket and I saw a glint of metal. A pocket knife. "You little brat," he snarled at me. He grasped me by the hips, his thumb hooking into my panties. I was embarrassed by how turned on I'd gotten, how soaking wet my pussy was for him. I was hoping he wouldn't notice, all my attention on the knife in his fingers.

He wasn’t able to see them in time because my huge frame had blocked out any other line of vision. I released his neck and watched him crumble to the ground while massaging his neck slowly. Dmitri stepped forward and crouched in front of him with Armen taking a position beside me. I reached into my holster and produced a Karambit, clean, sharp and well-polished. It was my favorite carving knife and I was just waiting to use it once Dmitri ran out of patience with him. It wouldn’t be long before I’d be asked to use my skills on him and truthfully, I was more than eager to end this with the slowest and most painful torture session in my arsenal, if Dmitri let me.

“Don't talk about them. You're not allowed to.” "The dagger," Kairos demanded, his tone shifting to business. "Give it to me. Now." Jason reached into his jacket slowly, pulling out the Obsidian Dagger. The blade seemed to absorb the light around it, ancient and terrible. He held it up, then dropped it on the concrete between them with a metallic clatter. "Here it is," Jason said, stepping away from it. "Let her come to me, and you can move to get it."

He raised his two hands up, showing some form of surrender, but I knew better, I wasn't stupid to take his lack of weapon for his surrender or weakness. He cocked his head sideways grinning like an idiot which I know he isn't. “What will you do dear Lora. Fillet me like salmon.” “I'm serious” “So am I.” He gave me a cocky smile that twisted my stomach. And continued. “That knife is Henckels. Eight inch chef’s knife. Sharp enough to cut through bone if you knew what you were doing.” He took one more step closer and my breath hitched, it felt like I was slowly closing the lid to my own coffin.

“They’re typically our own design, so they come from a place that’s more or less unique. Or at least, that’s how it should be. We’re given a simple one while we’re children, and choose new designs as we grow older.” Eva was surprised that every Drogar owned custom-made knives. For any species to unilaterally own the same sort of object was a bit odd to her. Humans had no such equivalent, though perhaps pocket knives came closest. Almost every culture touted their own historic and iconic designs. “So why’re you two wearing daggers and swords?” she asked. “Everyone else seems to only wear one.” “These longblades are the Justicar’s weapon of choice, alongside our sidearms,” replied Severas. “Wh

They felt like their bodies refused to comply with their brains. “Are you sure about that?” Shadow’s right hand sneakily delved inside her back pocket. Hermes and Hercules stayed silent, and couldn't say anything. Their minds were mostly blank. Pitch black. Literally nothing. They had no thoughts which were weird. Gradually, Shadow revealed what she was hiding behind her. It was a SURVIVOR HK-786BK Black Survival Knife. Hermes and Hercules’s eyes bulged and their mouths were literally foaming. They were also unsurprisingly peed inside their pants due to the fear.

Joker. "I've brought her here. I'll be leaving now," Mrs. Quintana said hurriedly, turning to leave with surprising speed. The kick from Mr. Joker still ached, and her old bones felt like they were about to fall apart. She didn't dare linger here any longer. Now, it was just Nina and Mr. Joker in the room. He handed her a black card threaded with a black string. "Wear this, and no one will dare harm you. You can move freely within the confines of this place."

A silver knife glinted in the dark, as the moon poured in through the sound proofed window, just before it cut through the girl's skin and she let out a bone rattling wail. The young girl began crying.... Begging. She swore to do whatever he wanted. But the pleas fell on deaf ears. The man seemed to enjoy the torture. Slowly, he dragged the blade through her lips and across her left cheek. He did the same to her right cheek. With the gore slipping through the gash on the girl's face, she might be mistaken for a female version of the Joker. She let out a throaty sob, her mouth had been rendered immobile by the incision. This outcome seemed to please the burly man, for he smiled. His smile was

“I will be sending off for a DNA test in our lab within the hour. We will regroup then; Joker will take you to Queenie and Winnie. Soon as he said his name there, Joker walked into the room; the scar that ran down his face was prominent. He looked like a modern-day Viking; his head was shaved to the sides with dark tattoos his long dark blonde hair was pulled back into a man bun. Dressed in dark, naturally distressed jeans and a grey t-shirt, his hardened eyes access me with something that I couldn’t interpret. Silently, I walk to the door, wondering to myself what the fuck just happened. I looked at Joker, wondering if he was just the strong silent type or what his deal was. “So lovely weat

I gasp at the beauty of it, gingerly taking it out of his hands. “Leonel… what is…?” “It’s a pocket knife,” he states quickly. “I’ve been having it specially made these past three days. The knife may be small, but it’s ten times sharper than the average knife. One swipe of it will kill a man.” I flip out the knife, and while I don’t test his claim, I can instantly tell that it’s true. The knife is long and thin, glimmering unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Wait…