Novel & Cerita Strike Three

The branches are splayed at odd angles, almost as if it was reaching for something. And burned into its bark is a note: We have your mate. We won’t hurt him. We just want to talk. Meet us at Julian’s old packhouse at noon in three days. Bring all the trios. Corinda, Casen, and Severn Prophecy count: 3 victories – 1) Betrayal attack, 2) 3 packs from camps, 3) The whole war 3 deaths – 1) Jared, 2) Isaac, 3) Xander

"As long as Iktanne would be happy and get the top rank." Realizing this, he suddenly felt his cheeks rushing with warmth. For all the past three years, he would always purposely create mistakes so that Iktanne would get the top stratum of victory. He was not doing it completely for her, but it was more of him being amused seeing the girl squeal with delight inside a dark, unoccupied room, away from the judgement of people. Shaking his head, as if to gather his thoughts, he heaved a sigh and waited for the exam to end. ❇❇❇

Fat chance. "I'll get the money," he rumbled pathetically, his body drenched in alcohol and saliva. What added to my rage was that some of it had dropped on my clothes, too. I shook my head tiredly. "You know how we do things around here. Three strikes and you're out." He looked at me, a fresh, gleaming, disgusting hope written all over his face. "But... but this is my second strike, right? I still have the third! I'll get the money before then, I promise I—"

“The guest room on the third floor. End of the hallway on the left. I’ll be waiting for you there in ten minutes. If you don’t come, I’ll make sure Vivian knows what happened in the car this afternoon. I have a very interesting voice recording, Dewangga.” My blood rushed violently. A voice recording? When did he do that? Davian walked away without another glance, blending into the crowd of guests as if nothing had happened. I stood frozen, my fingers touching the cold key in my pocket. My head throbbed painfully. This was blackmail—a trap that could make me lose everything. The Silent Third Floor

They surrounded me like wolves with a scent—taunting, circling, grinning like they already won. Damien was the first to speak, dragging a finger down the side of my face with a smirk that made my skin crawl. "You know the rules, Elara. Three strikes and they lobotomize you. Make one wrong move, and we’ll make sure your name’s stamped on that chair before the week is over." I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

~ 'All right! So you have stopped two strikes, but the third one will rip your arms.' Grisha smirked behind her bloodred helmet, 'Too bad, it will also shatter your beautiful trident into oblivion…' With no hesitation, she raised her sword a third time and landed another deadly strike at her armored opponent. ~CLANK~ She was optimistic in her strength. Yet, her smirk turned upside down when she saw the armored man somehow withstood her third strike as well.

It stings like a bitch! ************

“Don’t stress over it, Skye. I can take care of myself. Besides, it isn’t the first time this cartel clique has had their annual meeting at the club. Whenever they’re around, they don’t cause any trouble. It has always been peaceful.” I stared at her for a long moment, searching her face. “What do you mean by annual meeting?” Red shrugged. “I’m not sure if it’s truly annual, but what I’m sure about is that for the thirty-one months I’ve worked in that club as a stripper, they’ve been coming every year. This will be their third time.” My interest sharpened. “Could you by chance know the reason for this annual meeting?”

Kelvin knew that it was either he was in danger, or it was just some persons trying to get a record of his activities, either way, he hates being trailed. He parked his car in the underground parking lot. He remained inside for a while contemplating what next to do. Should he step out of his car and get attacked, or should he be the first to attack? Just then, he head a tap on his window. He looked up to see a man dressed in black. It seems his trailer has decided to come meet him in person. Kelvin made a sign of the cross with his hand before opening the door. He stepped out to meet the stranger.

“Wait, what?!” “Happens all the time when he has booze in one hand and a friend with the same vibe next to him,” she explained helplessly. “Everyone calls him Three Strikes Out, you know. The first two shots are meant to mortify his partner, but if those don't work, he’ll have one more shot and—well, get himself royally drunk. “Don’t believe me? Well, come over here, young man. Take a look yourself. He’s gonna throw up a champagne shower,” Dana added. She beckoned to Javier to help her carry Mr. Gander to the bathroom, where he could throw up to his heart’s content.