Stick Figure Violence Novels & Stories

"Do you have anything for pain?" Livia was still scared, any false move, that the gangster would shoot. She got up very slowly and took a few steps towards the tall man.

Flashing images of our parents slide across my mind with mortified faces when the tragic news is delivered that their son inaugurated this farce. The sneering rogues stepped forward and drew nearer to me. My jaw twitched and I took a defensive posture. They leaped into the air aiming to deliver brutal blows with their claws. Doing a spin formation, I greeted them with my fist while my brother and the other rogue watched. My punches were powerful enough to crack my opponents' jaws. One of them, which I seized by the neck, was thrown to the hard ground. More rogues descended on me and with solid kicks and robust punches I broke multiple bones in their bodies. This slowed their movements which

“So you’re lying here, then?” She wanted to avoid being pushed, so as the man slipped out of her grasp, he rapidly slid to the ground. She tiptoed as if something were avoiding her based on her movements, and the man assumed she was playing when he jumped up again and attempted to strike her with his fist. He was about to hit her in the face with his hand, but she moved quickly and punched him in the stomach, nearly making him throw up from the intensity of the blow. She took two sticks concealed with her garment, only two inches protruding from her back.

"I pay you to pull a trigger. If you can't see the target, you can't shoot. If you can't shoot, you’re useless to me." "Boss, please! I have kids!" "So will I. And you almost let them die before they could be conceived." I press the nose of the staple gun against the fleshy web between his thumb and index finger. The staple drives through the meat and hits the metal table with a dull ping. Valencia’s scream is a high, jagged sound that bounces off the tiled walls. He thrashes, but his hand is pinned to the steel. I move the stapler to his middle finger. He screams again when I engage it.

— He asks his question and gets out of my way – Boy tries to run away, without success. — Hey, don't stay like that," Malcolm Hering. "I just wanted to know what your asshole looks like." With a stick that he picked up on the ground, he hit him, threatening him. - It was always so tight. It must be hard to shit. "He's touching his leg again, skins him, even if he beat him, sticks a stick in his rectum, leaving him on the ground. Not just with one finger; with your whole hand. — These boys are bothering you, Miss S. Péngyǒu? The three of them saw each other. Xuan NanZhi is standing there.

The Stingers were my family, crime my inheritance. I'd grown up in a world where violence was as commonplace as breathing. The scent of blood was familiar, the rhythm of gunfire a lullaby. My childhood was a blur of shadows, punctuated by the harsh commands of my superiors. I learned to suppress emotions, to replace empathy with indifference. The world was a chessboard, and human life was merely pawns to be sacrificed.

His jaw tightened when he spotted my split lip. *Don’t.* I dug nails into my palm. *Don’t you dare pity me.* Freddy thrashed. Eddie lunged again, all flailing limbs and sweat-stained desperation. The stranger pivoted, using Freddy’s body as a battering ram. Their skulls cracked together—a sound like Louisville Sluggers on pumpkins. The stranger kicked him in the gut without loosening his grip. Eddie crumpled, wheezing. I’d seen brawls in juvie, but this? This was poetry. Violent, efficient, and rhyming in blood.

SIDE STORY TRIGGER WARNING: DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE!!! “No…no. Luca, please!” Gildor’s hands slap weakly at him, shaking. His good eye widens, terror threatening to make it burst. The knife probes skillfully, and more of his warm blood spills, mixing with the mud, and coating Luca's hands. Gildor's body thrashes violently, kicking, shaking, but Luca doesn’t stop. He chuckles at Gildor's misery as he forces the cruel blade to carve deeper. . . And deeper, until it grinds against bone, and the ribs crack open with a sickening pop. Gildor sobs, his voice breaking as his fingers dig into Luca's arms.

It stopped attacking and began focusing its motions on defence, attempting to avoid being hit by that monstrous tail. Mr. Starkridge would spring forward with a powerful attack, possibly trying to break the vial or hurt the figure's arm, if the figure tried to reach for a vial fastened around the belt on its waist. All Mr. Starkridge had to do was corner him long enough for him to find an opening and deliver the killing blow.

But he got up and still only half shifted he charged at me and I threw myself onto my back and pushed my foot into his stomach and threw him over the top of me and he landed on his back behind me. I used my legs to jump back up onto my feet and I turned around to face him again and he slowly got up and turned to face me. He looked like he was in a lot of pain and he looked down, so I followed his line of sight and there was a stick protruding through the side of his rib cage.