Sucker Punch Blue Jones の小説・ストーリー

I skidded across the ice, my blades throwing a sheet of white crystals against the base of the stands as I tore the gate open and hurled myself up the wooden stairs. I grabbed Bluey by the collar of his pristine jersey, ripping his large frame completely away from Vine, and landed a brutal, bone-crushing punch right across his jaw. The crowded arena let out a collective, deafening "Ooooohh!" as the force of the blow sent him crashing down against the wooden benches. I didn't stop. The red mist took over completely. I lunged after him, my knees pinning his chest into the wood as I kept punching, raining down blow after blow into his face.

All three of us crane our necks to see. There's a picture of Daniel and me sitting on the bench by the pharmacy. Daniel is holding Chance in a standing position. They're smiling at each other while I'm looking on. The picture really is sweet. The writer of the caption, however, jumped to a whole lot of conclusions. Caught Again: Is This Soccer Stud Turning into a Soccer Dad? "Um… yep. I guess that would be him." "Are you kidding me?" Geni practically screeches and snatches the newspaper out of her client's hand. "You're going out with Daniel Zavaro? Captain of the Texas Mutiny? How did you not tell me this?"

Staring after the woman as she turned slowly. Only as Sandra began to shrink from the doorframe did Blue collapse into a small, orange heap. Cheek throbbing where it had been clawed at by glass. Warm as she surrendered to silent tears. Throat swollen shut. Stomach seized tense with muffled sobs. And as she yelled, she screamed the words with the savage call she’d thus far done well to quiet. “You lot and your fucking money!” —

The first punch caught Silas right on the jaw, snapping his head back and sending a spray of blood across the white ice. The second punch broke his nose, and by the third, Silas was completely unconscious, slumping down toward the ice. But Jaxson didn’t stop. He grabbed the front of Silas’s jersey, hauling him back up just to smash his face into the ice again, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. "Jaxson, stop!" I screamed, scrambling to my knees, ignoring the agonizing pain in my wrists. The referees finally piled on, tackling him to the ice, but he was still thrashing, still trying to swing, screaming curses that made the front row of fans cover their kids' ears.

Cole The punch landed before the sentence finished. That’s how it started. Silas's biker group stepped into the bar for drinks. One of his guys leaned in too close, his breath hot with cheap beer and unearned arrogance. “Heard you’re playing house now,” he sneered. I didn’t even remember moving. My fist cracked across his jaw. Bone met bone. In a clean, sharp snap The sound shut the room up. crashing into a table with a splintering thud.

Spasms of irritation cross my face. “What the fuck?” He gestures at my dangling shirt, and I notice his is also untucked. The cheek. Sometimes I detest this overly observant behavior our little group seems to possess. “Both,” I snap. “What are you drinking?” He’s not intimidated by my wrath. And why would he be? I’m not Jackson. I don’t hit things or faces when I’m angry. Although tonight I’m coming close. “Johnnie Blue,” I say, and Damion, knowing me too well, whistles softly, giving me a stern look. I only drink JWB when I’m in a foul mood. And tonight I’m in a foul mood.

The next thing I knew, a blue spray sprang into the air, and Jessblue’s eyes widen as if she were surprised herself. Everything that could have gone wrong did, and the only person who paid the price was Jessblue. My face is painted over with anger. My mouth opens wide as I shout out with emotion, but the reactions of this deadbeat Council are what pushes me over the edge. Jessblue fell to the ground, and before her body hit the ground, the council members leap up from their seats. In any place they could, they sink their fangs into her and start sucking like starved slaves who

Red sneered and knocked Skull to the ground. He drove his knife into Skull's shoulder. With a yelp, Skull spun violently, driving his boots into Red's torso, sending him flying across the room. Red rose to his feet, driving his fist into the older man's face. They exchanged several deadly punches. Red drove his knee into Skull's face, blood squirting out of his nose. Skull rolled to the far corner of the room and rose to his feet, wiping off the blood from his nose. He stared at his son who still looked very lethal. A wave of panic rattled him to the core.

In a sudden move, he walked straight to the kitchen to hunt for Caruss, and there he saw his cousin, Sandy, who was busy baking cupcakes while Caruss, on the other hand, was processing some orders. "Gregory, what are you doing here?" his cousin raised a surprise question to him, who appeared to be enraged to the point of rage. "You, jerk faggot!" he uttered a sharp, fervid and impassioned accusation as he faced Caruss, shocking everyone in the kitchen. "You truly are the unlucky creature in my life!" he oathed, pinching the collars so tightly, "you haven't done anything helpful to me since you came. You're a burden, bullsh*t!"