Supernatural Gun Colt Novels & Stories

Neon swirled the dagger around in her hand, her muscles tense, ready to react at any moment, as she swiftly turned towards the direction of the voice. "I said I'm not an enemy!" The person, who turned out to be a boy who looked her age, screamed, raising both hands in fright. Neon's eyes settled on the gun in his trembling hand. It was a famous weapon among werewolf hunters, renowned for its ability to shoot from a long range and its deadly accuracy against even the fastest of werewolves.

The scent made my stomach clench. Hemlock. Wolfsbane. Silver. The bullet had been specially designed to take down supernatural threats. Any one of those substances would weaken any supernatural. Vampire… Werewolf… No time to worry about that now. More sentinels would be coming. The gunshots would have alerted some already. I kicked at the headmistress's door. The heavy wood splintered but held. I kicked again, putting all my remaining strength behind it. This time the door burst open, hanging drunkenly from its hinges.

“Fine. You want in, you’re in.” They went to the armory room in the back of the club. Metal shelves lined with firearms, ammunition, and knives gleamed in the low light. Amy’s fingers skimmed along the collection before she pulled down a polished Colt 1911 and a snub-nosed revolver. Isadora grinned and took her favorites — a black Beretta M1951 and a sawed-off shotgun with a worn leather strap. “You ever notice,” Isadora said as she checked the Beretta’s magazine, “that people like us never really retire?”

the General Secretary bellowed. Mr. Colton pushed back from the dining table, his chair scraping against the floor. He rose, brows furrowed and strode toward the doorway. "What did I just hear?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. His eyes locked onto the man who had spoken, and his face darkened. In one swift motion, he snatched a gun from a nearby guard. The sound of the trigger echoed through the room as Mr Colton fired, the man's body crumpling to the ground.

I say to the driver. Without asking a question, the man reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a black Colt Mustang and hands it over to me. The gun had been a gift from my father for my sixteenth birthday and I had always kept it close to me no matter where I went. This is the first time I am carrying a gun in this country so I need to be extremely careful not to get caught with this. I place the gun in my purse beside my trusty pen knife; I always carried one in my bag and one on my person. If Scot for any reason thinks that because I am not coming with my security detail I will be easy picking he definitely has another thing coming.

He had to focus on freeing the captives in the building. Axe's hand moved to remove the wedding ring and put it away in his pants pocket. His movements were too nimble to pull out the firearm tucked under his clothes. He began to focus on the mission. Axe's footsteps were barely audible as he carried his body out of the hideout. He smiled wryly to find only one guard, which meant one of them had already entered the building. Raised to shoulder height was a 1911 colt with a sound soaker in the muzzle. With just one press, the shell shot against the wind through the cloth-clad flesh. The shot body gave a startled response, before collapsing to the ground with blood pouring out.

When the cry vibrated through the walls again, he stood up with effort and felt a certain wetness under his jacket. He slowly raised up the left flab, and saw a red stain a few inches down his armpit, he cursed. Reaching into his closet again, he searched, from memory, for one of his father’s regular gifts for him since when he clocked sixteen and retrieved his hand holding an embellished Colt 1849 revolver. He recalled there were about ten different makes of the very expensive revolvers stacked in the same corner with custom-made and equally emblemized pocket knives. He quickly checked if the gun was still loaded and nodded to himself when he saw it was.

Another is earning more from the market he could make as he sells his tested and proven products to his buyers who some would even come to watch the match games live when they have time, or when they are also into the sports on the show. “Well, I wasn’t going to pull any weapon out, but I don’t have the patience right now to deal with obnoxious people. The Goerge Supremo had just died and I am deeply mourning….” I spoke softly as I checked the firearm in my hands. I pulled its magazine out to see and show everyone watching my every move that it was indeed fully loaded. Then I placed the magazine back into the 9mm gun and mounted a silencer into it. “This has fifteen bullets. There are only e

Not when her home collapsed on her head, not when she had get ready for a battle she wasn’t ready for. She couldn’t even search for Kieran or Daniella. She hadn’t been in anything like this before, but she couldn’t die. There were things to do. The new weapon that were slicing through Supernaturals like they weren’t significant. Her arms were encased in ice as she ran to the middle. She had been trailing those blades for a while. And she had made trails for them, well she had been trying to reduce the death count but it was like it had a mind of its own.

He wanted to kill her dad like his family killed her mother and brother. “Sierra? Princess?” Suddenly, Colton’s voice was heard coming from outside. Sierra quickly closed the drawer shut and walked away from the desk. “Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you!” Colton beamed when he saw her in the study. She was only a few steps away from the door. “What are you doing here?” Sierra avoided eye contact with him and threw her gaze away, but that was how she got a glimpse of Colton’s inner jacket. She spotted the metallic gun tucked in there. Colton was carrying the gun, and he might be using it to kill her dad.