Trigun Quote Novels & Stories

I take a step back my legs tactically feeling the rug for my gun which I always keep beneath it, because if I wanna take down this big man here called Trigger, a pocket knife won't do the trick. "You are as smart as he was but trust me, I won't harm you" Trigger laughs. He. Who is he? But still I take another cautious step bacl. "I do not believe you" Trigger laughs again and pulls out a gun from the back of his boots, my eyes follows his every move but then he throws the gun at my feet and cocks his head. I stare at him skeptically. "The gun is fully loaded, make your shot if I try anything stupid" I bend slowly my eyes still trained on him and I pick the gun.

DREIDAN'SPOV "Cossì cazzo." (you're so fucked up.) I spat out as I kicked Naziz on his stomach. He coughed out blood. "You're so incompetent. How could you let the police trace you. Do you fucking know how much I spent purchasing those machine guns? Have any fucking idea, punk ass?"

"This gun is loaded with silver bullets alpha… I don't want to hurt you, I'm only here for her." "Then I'm sorry cause you'll have to kill me first." Travis responded with so much seriousness in his glare. "You're willing to die for her?" The killer questioned as he cringed. Travis' next word left me astounded as I stared into his glowing eyes… "Yes."

] [ Why those spots ? Tang replied with a single emoji : a sniper rifle. [ Got it. ] I watched him type, my breath quick and shallow. "So what you're saying is… if I go up there, someone might shoot me in the head ? " Tang's mouth twitched. "Or the chest. Depends on the shooter. Head's just easier. " I shot him a look. "Can you not talk about me getting shot like it's target practice ? " He didn't answer.

He said, “That’s a GLOCK 19, untraceable. It has one bullet in it now, use the bullet wisely.” “I`ve been a thug since I was 10, and in this 7years I`ve never got an interest in having a gun. So keep it for those who want it, I`m fine thanks.” “That`s not just a gun, Mastermind. That`s a collector item. Untraceable, didn’t you hear?” “With one bullet!” I said, “What happens if I miss my target?” “A person with anger never misses a target, and that`s you.”

It stings. "Okay," Trist said breathlessly. "I was able to kill a friend then, now I can do it again!" Take it seriously. Trist quickly pulled out a gun, causing Clement to alert and suppressed Trist's surprise of touching the trigger of the gun. And now that Clement and Trist are fighting over guns, neither of them wants to lose.

"Be careful with what you do, because the slightest movement on your part could cause this gun to start firing bullets." Marik and the others knew that Miren wasn't joking when she fired the trigger. But with the attitude of being the one to bully others, Marik was cornered by Miren in anger. He was pinned on his back by her leg, with the gun to his head. He couldn't even find the words to describe how humiliated he felt; Marik would give anything to be dead right now. After gritting his teeth and clenching his fists with shaking hands, he finally managed to get his words out.

We were both so fucked up it was almost beautiful. “You’re a natural, most people take months of practice to get it right,” He said and I beamed at him innocently. He didn’t know what I was thinking while I squeezed that trigger. That every headshot was a rehearsal and his little girl was thinking about Mommy Jillian on her knees somewhere, and how satisfying it would be to visit that club and this time be the one in control. “Then do I deserve a reward?” I took the chance, “Can I keep the gun?” I asked.

I am gonna kill them ! “Oh that must be Dad Zarek’s special gun in my pocket,” Jax answered as he patted the stupid thing. “He said that you could throw at someone’s head and the man could just die. It is that heavy. So did your hand get fractured, spineless li’l Joe ?” he asked with zero concern whatsoever as my bones rearranged themselves. He was such a good brother, wasn’t he ? Please note the HEAVY sarcasm, if you didn’t.

“They’ll die." We suited up. Achilles cleaned his rifle with quiet reverence, as though it were a relic from the gods. Xiomar strapped his curved blade across his back, checking the edge with ritual precision. I went heavy: knives at my thighs, pistols at my hips, my favorite sawed-off slung low. “You really think they forgot us?” I asked, snapping the shotgun shut with a satisfying click. Achilles’ mouth twitched, almost a smile. “They didn’t forget. They prayed. That’s not the same thing.”