Stalker Bf Novels & Stories

"Screw this." I looked over at Burney, horrified to see him running at Stan. He threw his weight into the Taken's back, knocking him forward. Stan shrieked from the surprise attack and Mike grunted, landing pinned beneath the Taken Scorcher. I turned from the three man pile and reefed the gun free of Ronnie's stiff fingers. "Burney!" He'd separated himself from the other two and was standing over them, poised to strike with Stan's makeshift stake. "You can't kill him that way," I yelled, throwing him the gun, "It'll send the shade bolting to someone else!"

Stefan said with a smirk. Kneeling down, he looks at me intensely. “This,” Stefan said, moving his gun over Faith’s body, “It’s a small insurance. After all, I couldn’t get what I wanted from you.” “You want Faith for his immortality?” I asked. “BRAVO!” Stefan said as he laughs aloud and claps happily, “I see you’re not that stupid!” “You!” I said, gritting my teeth. I needed to escape with Faith. There still were no signs of Karl and the guys. Needed to find an exit, or a way to distract him.

"Kael, that’s today. The day of the crash. The day everything supposedly ended." "It didn't end, Maya," Kael said, his eyes fixed on the rising mechanical shapes in the sand. "It began. We weren't dying in that car. We were being recruited." Sela grabbed my arm, her grip bruising. "We don't have time for a family reunion. Those are Stalkers. They’re built to track the specific neural signature of a Peak survivor. If they catch you, they don’t kill you. They plug you back in." The first machine reached the base of our gantry. It was a horrific fusion of chrome and biology, shaped like a wolf but with six spindly, multi-jointed legs that clicked against the rusted metal.

] [Talent items: A set of F-Rank kitchen utensils (upgradeable), ability to create culinary concoctions that even ghouls can taste. Screens displaying my in-game identity and talent items floated before my eyes. Meanwhile, there was already a huge audience watching the livestream. They were waiting for the action to start, and I was the unlucky soul picked to play in this horror game. When they saw that I was only eighteen and possessed only the lowest-ranked talent items, everyone’s eyes nearly popped out. [She’s done for! She’s a newbie, AND she got sent to an S-Rank Map! She’s going to die in ten seconds flat.]

Her eyes traced a slow, predatory path from my head down to my toes, a cold, mocking smirk playing on her lips. "You certainly seem to be getting the VIP treatment this morning, don't you?" Chloe’s voice was a low, melodic hiss. I halted exactly three feet away from her. I didn't give her the satisfaction of an immediate defense. I remembered what Maya and Stella had told me—don't feed the trolls. Especially not the ones in designer heels. Chloe tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from my cup. "It’s rare to see Jovan Bradford lingering in a breakroom just to watch someone brew a pot of coffee," she continued, her laugh short and sharp.

Every kill was absolute. "Retrieve the beacon data!" Elena commanded, her voice amplified by the Null-link. One of the Stalkers, a girl no older than nineteen whose eyes were a fierce, permanent gold, dove for the silver spike. She ripped it from the ground, the violet light dying instantly as she crushed the internal processor between her fingers. The Final Handshake of the Flats The skirmish lasted less than three minutes. Of the thirty Liquidators, only one remained, the Lead Liquidator, his helmet cracked, his shoulder pinned to the obsidian by a jagged vine that had grown through his suit in seconds.

"In my mountain? In her room?" Vincent raised his hand, and the shadows of the room rose like a tidal wave, wrapping around the Stalker. It was a battle of darkness against darkness. Vincent’s magic was ancient and grounded in the earth, while the Stalker’s was a corrupted, alchemical imitation. "Félix, now!" Vincent commanded. Félix, gasping for air, saw his opening. He reached into the pouch on his belt—the one Maya had given us—and pulled out a vial of concentrated Blue-Brier and lunar salt. He smashed the vial directly into the Stalker’s face.

He had the perfect angle to go for the beast. If he’d lunged straight toward the basin, if he’d taken the clean line instead of chasing me, he could probably have ended the hunt right there and claimed the game. He didn’t. He came for me. I saw him vault a broken ridge, drive off the stone with all that terrifying strength of his, and close the distance like he meant to outrun a collapse. The Stalker hit the weak part of the shelf first.

Bella put her hand on his thigh and murmured, "they watched everyone in my family die. I want to be here when we finish the last twenty people." "I would have arranged a live zoom call for you, dumb head." Hunter lifted his head and turned to her with a grin, "I would also have arranged for a blood bath if you had wanted." "God..." Bella muttered in disgust, "I am not some psychopath." "You think you are not." Hunter's grin turned to a teasing smile, "going around killing people is an act of psychopathy."

They were massive, prowling the edge of the crater on four multi-jointed limbs, their featureless heads sweeping back and forth. Unlike the Sentinels, the Stalkers didn't just delete what they touched. From their backs, tendrils of void-whips lashed out, casually unmaking boulders and debris as they paced. There were six of them. We were out of comms. Dax looked at me, then at Reaper and Sienna. He tapped two fingers against his chest, then pointed to the left flank of the crater. I will draw them left. He pointed to Reaper and Sienna, slicing his hand down the middle. You take the center. Cover fire if it goes loud. Finally, he looked at me and pointed directly at the glowing purple tear in