Knife X Microphone Novels & Stories

The President shrugged before pulling out a small knife hidden between the jogger and his waist and threw it on the headboard of the car before relaxing back in his seat, "I promise you that wasn't for Alessandro. I incidentally had it in there." Noah snatched the instrument, scrutinizing it; alarm stomped on his face, "Boss, isn't this a scalpel?" Nico threw the hoodie over his head, "Is it?" He laughed nervously, "It's hard to tell the difference sometimes," Cursing under his breath, Noah asked, "Any other weapon you think I should have?" Raising both hands, Nico gave a half-shrug, "As you said, we can't kill Alessandro. This is a crucial time to draw attention to us."

The planner made sure to have all my weapons in the hotel before I arrived to throw off any suspicion, and right now, I feel so grateful to him for handling my babies so well. After taking one last look at my Heckler & Koch VP9, MP5DS, and Mk23, my gaze settled on my Fairbairn-sykes Fighting Knife, Sog SOG FIXED Blade, and United Cutlery Push Dagger. Then I headed into the bathroom and got naked before entering the shower. I always like to feel clean before doing a dirty job, and tonight was going to be one of those missions where I have to do more than shooting a bullet into a man's head, so I want to look my best.

Rule number two of this business: know your prey. Mr Allard gets in the driver’s seat and now it’s time to have some fun. While he’s busy turning his phone back on, I carefully pull my best friend from my ankle holster. Crimson – as I like to call her – is an 11” titanium knife with a 5” trailing point blade with a sloping style hilt. I never go anywhere without her and before you ask, yes I call it a ‘she’, how can I not? She’s reliable, durable, gets the job done and is bloody every month. Quickly sitting up, I place the blade of my knife to this throat, while being sure not to nick the skin – that’s not how we’ll be doing this. His body instantly goes rigid as he pushes himself into the s

my partner cut in. “No rush. It’s 3742. Good luck, Holmes and Watson.” “We don’t need your good luck, poop,” she spat and ended the call. She entered the passcode and we opened the gallery. As usual, there were two images. One is an image of a knife stabbed to the ground beside a short, fat tree and the other is an AMU student entering a café. Wait… I snatched the phone from her hand and zoomed in on the knife. Oh, hell. “It’s an obsidian knife, the sharpest knife in the world.”

We just passed the 12 weeks mark. “Rissa and Gabe will help you practice and get used to it.” I just nodded and pulled the knife from its sheath. It was beautiful in its own deadly way. I didn’t know shit about knives, but I was sure you can kill pretty easily with a blade like this. “The blade is a high density silver alloy, so don’t cut yourself,” Gabriel chimed in. “I won’t.” I gave him an offended look as I put the blade back and closed the box on it.

He uses the mirror to get an angle where he can see the husk but it couldn’t see him. It was near, dangerously near. If Kenneth and Peter ran back the other end of the aisle, this husk would see them before they reached it. He needed to dispose of it now. Pulling out his knife, Kennet waits for the husk to get close. The two of them go still as they see the husk’s arm go past the aisle. When its head is about to see them, Kenneth hears his radio come to life. The husk screams in response but Kenneth was quicker.

I whispered into his ear, my voice low and lethal, “and I swear this blade will open you from ear to ear.” His entire body went rigid. I felt him swallow hard. “Y-Young Master…” he stammered, his voice trembling. “W-what are you—” “Shut up,” I hissed. “And listen carefully.” I reached down with my free hand, unclipped the microphone from his uniform, and crushed it beneath my foot. Then I slid my hand to his sidearm, removing it smoothly. “You’re not going to get hurt,” I said coldly. “As long as you do exactly what I say.”

"And Mendoza's standard arsenal, I'm guessing." Rick moved to her side and produced a key from a hidden compartment in the communications cabinet. The lock clicked open, revealing a compact but comprehensive collection of weapons, two handguns with extra magazines, a short-barreled shotgun, and various knives. "Iron blade," Rick noted, lifting a matte-black combat knife from its moulded slot. "Military grade, designed for anti-supernatural operations." Casie took it, testing the weight and balance. The handle fit her grip perfectly, and the blade absorbed rather than reflected the cabin's dim light. "This will help against the constructs."

Gunner doesn’t. He turns it into some sort of party, so it is like a dance while he is dicing, stabbing, and cutting. Finally, he stops ahead of me, two objects in each hand. “Now choose one, which would you like me to use?” He smiles at me as his eyes darken with desire. I look at them: one is a pocketknife, another a scalpel, then a dagger, and then, well, of course, he has a sword, a big fucking sword. But, as much as I want to say the sword, I also want to survive this.

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.