Joker's Knife From Dark Knight Novels & Stories

Laughing, Daunte replied, "Oh, I am certain of it." In the cell, Erick and Nick were chained on opposite sides of the wall so that they had to look at each other while being tortured. It was an appalling strategy, but the effects on the prisoner were usually positive; however, these two did not seem affected. At the center of the room was a small table containing knives, whips, and other items laced with wolfsbane. One of my favorite items was my version of the Joker's knife. Its brilliant silver blade could cut through even the thinnest hair. "Good afternoon, gentleman," I mocked as I grabbed my gloves off the table.

I froze when I spotted the first sliver of an out I’d seen since he blasted into my life that day. On the table sat his gun with the silencer still attached, along with a knife. It looked military, much larger than the average pocket knife, with the blade and handle being one piece. The tip curved up into a sharp point. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. That piece of metal could free me. The gun I could fuck up with, plus I didn’t even know if it was still loaded with as many shots as he got off, but a knife? Anything goes.

A curl of scowl about his mouth, and in his hand the final piece of the jigsaw: a black-bladed knife that bore a very old symbol. It's not the god you need to fear anymore," Kade told him, his tone cold, emotionless. "It's me.".

In his hand gleamed a knife, the blade hungry under the dim bulb. “Running again?” he drawled. His eyes found Evandra, dazed and half-submerged below, and he smiled. “Pathetic.” Jalen tried to step forward, blocking him, but his body betrayed him. Jack moved like lightning, surging past him with brutal grace. The knife flashed and sank deep into Jalen’s chest. Jalen gasped, air punched from his lungs, blood blooming across his shirt as he crumpled to his knees. “No!” Evandra screamed, trying to rise, water dragging at her limbs as she slowly sank deeper into the water.

Another two Knights come rushing towards us, Jaja throws one of his swords and instantly kills a Knight when the weapon embeds itself between the Knights' beady eyes. Leaping into the air with his sword raised high above his head, and the tip of his blade pointing down, Jaja forcefully drives it through the crook of the neck of the second Knight. The gates to the palace open, and an army of Knights exit through them. I stand next to Jaja, we look at each other and smirk. With a flick of my wrist, his sword exits the dead Knight's body and soars through the air like a boomerang, landing in his waiting hand. I get down on one knee, place the palms of my hands on the snow, creating a tiny whirl

‘It is time to find the Trident. *** ‘Wow, is that a real dagger?’ Lucas said reaching into the liberated metal box. The knife had a black leather-bound handle and a tapered silver blade. Again there was a Swastika embossed into the handle. ‘No doubt about it,’ Albert said smacking Lucas’ hand away. ‘And you don’t know how safe it is.’ ‘It’s a knife with an accursed sign on it, Albert,’ Maud said wryly. ‘It isn’t ever goin’ to be anythin’ other than dangerous.’

He just looked asleep but pale. “He’s wearing all black, had gloves on. He wasn’t coming over for tea,” Ryder said, trying to justify himself. “It’s him. Did he have a weapon,” I asked, as I took a step back. The officer squatting covered him back up. “He had two two knives and a stun gun,” someone said. Yes it crossed my mind as to whether the bikers planted those things on him. “This is just … so fucked. For all his faults he wasn’t violent. I mean, this is just bat shit crazy. But he claimed on the phone I ruined his life when I left him…” I said, turning into Jake’s arms.

"She.... she's in the rr...room at the end of the corridor. The key's in my pocket. Pl....please let me go." I took the key. "Now who sent you?" I asked looking at my last knife. All this while, my men were watching the scene in amusement and I could here my dogs barking outside. The other three loosers were watching the scene before them in horror. Punk ass loosers. "I specially love this knife, know why?" I didn't wait for him to continue. "Because it's been poisoned. It has the venom of a cobra. It's gonna wipe you off the face of the earth in just ten seconds, but three, when I place it in your heart."

Only this time, the kits were used for a different purpose. *** "There...there...motherfucker. No need to cry." Rafael jeered. Rolling his shoulders, he cracked his knuckles while he eyed the knives laid out on the table before him. Glad it was his turn. The old fucker was tough. His companion had already taken a good chunk on him yet he had only given them bits and pieces of information. From the corner of his eye, a favorite knife gleamed. Made from volcano glass, so sharp, one would never know he was cut until he was bleeding like a pig.

But as he falls, his hand darts toward his jacket pocket with snake-like speed, emerges with something that catches the soft lighting and throws it back in razor-sharp gleams. A knife. Military issue, the kind designed for one purpose only.