Medic Tf2 Comic Novels & Stories

That's how brutal it is! I am a survivor, a soon-to-be Alpha. I am called San Francisco's bad boy for a reason. I will not let that happen to me too. I am in control of my destiny. Not the moon! **** At the School Cafeteria It was obvious that everyone in our school, Silverwood High, already knew about last night. The stares say it all but no one was brave enough to taunt me verbally. They wrote all kinds of stuff on my Locker. Stuff written were; Rejected wolf, from San Francisco's hot boy to San Francisco's rejected boy. Weird cartoons of me chasing a girl who was running away from me. Seraphina I guess.

His uniform was pristine and covered in stripes and medals made of gold. “You have made a fatal mistake, beast” the heavily accented man spoke. It was the same voice from the speaker box. This is the man in charge. Micha didn’t respond, just growled. Another man marched in through the door, wearing black combat pants and a long sleeve shirt, with a black vest on over the top. My stomach dropped and my mouth lost all moisture. I know him. He once called himself my Uncle Trevor. Though he was younger and had a few less wrinkles. He still wore the same devilish smirk.

He even let out his laugh like a wheezing animal. "Yeah, for a maniac guy who only knows to look at women's big bust and buttocks, I think it's pretty cool on your authentic old ass." He snicked and wear his shirt on. "Thanks a lot for your wonderful comment, I feel so blessed. I'll that as a compliment though." Stamp sarcastically muttered. "Everything nice?" Asked by Tool, their coolest friend, a tattoo artist with a hair of an addict and full of tattoo on his skin. "Yeah, love it." He answered to him and taps his chest.

I grin and he sighs "I'm so fucking done I've been going around finding information, exporting and importing shipment but nobody is in a dying mood and it's frustrating" he groans running a hand down his face A few snorts from this drug called VMF aka for Very Much Fucked always does the trick "Get the new stock out of my drawers," I say and he rubs his hands together. A mischievous grin spreads on his face He goes to open the drawers and his face falls when he sees what I know are the little glass bottles as well as the injections right next to them

These men are like big fucking abies, always out looking for a new tit to suckle on when ever their mouths get tier of all the shit they spew. Being a trained medic for a bunch of mafia pussies isn't as glamours as you'd think. Half the time I'm out stitching up knife fight wounds or grazes asses because the stupid idio shield his whole body while in a shoot out. Now the one night I thought id be able to unwind I see the two biggest babies of them all, n friends Dimitri and Roman fucking Lopez.

A burly man with a deep scar slashing across his cheek clicked his tongue in disdain. "Too bad Romulo didn’t finish the job. That bitch is still alive." "May Romulo rest in peace," murmured one with mock solemnity, crossing himself. Silence fell. Only the crackling of the cigarette filled the air until one of them—a man with dark hair and slanted eyes—spoke in a low voice. "She heard me." Every gaze snapped to him. "What did you just say?" asked the scarred man, his voice sharp as a blade.

Tarrin growled loudly. “Sorry..sorry!” Linux said frantically as he entered the code more slowly and correct, making the mechanism of the false drawer lightly beep, then unlock. The entire front of the cabinet popped open and Linux grabbed out a hypodermic kit with a vial of treatment serum put together in case of moments like this.

I said. “Of course there’s fanfic.” “How lovely.” I shook my head. “Actually, Ted, I did notice something with those names.” “Hit me.” “The usernames have very different, very consistent personalities. S supports that I’m a wolf and keeps suggesting I should mate a wolf. MyHelperz is vulgar, swears a lot, and never offers anything of substance. And so on.

The werewolf with the broken leg performed a grotesque imitation of a royal salute, his ridiculous gesture eliciting laughter from his companions. The pain from multiple injuries made my body feel like it was burning. Their harsh laughter was a pounding headache. “Shut up, your laughter is unbearable,” I managed to say, my gaze sweeping over them. “You!” My response clearly enraged them. They hadn’t expected me to still have the energy to taunt them, and their eyes turned to dark, angry glares. “You’re about to die.....” “Ulysses.” I coldly interrupted the werewolf with the broken leg, lifting my head despite my blurring vision, stubbornly gazing in a specific direction.

Of course, that caused more laughter. “Romeo actually hiccupped when he was coming. I kid you not. I gave him three blowies over a week and it happened every time.” “Stop, you’re killing me,” I begged. “No, really, and Dennis Francesco’s dick is deformed, poor guy. I gave him a mercy blow because I’d heard about it from one of the girls and wanted to see for myself.” “You said you didn’t bring guys back to your room.” I accused, tears rolling down my face by this point.