Venti Barbatos Novels & Stories

For an unknown reason, Natasha found herself visiting that place more than once in a week, just to let out the day's weight and gaze upon the twenty-foot statue of the Blue Streak which captured him in a sprinting position and the large lightning bolt emblem plastered to his chest being the only thing that had color as a blue glowing lamp enclosed in a glass case was attached on top of it, highlighting the emblem. The rest of the sculpture was a solid dark grey with one of his feet, the right one, erected onto a pedestal while the left one was raised and bending almost forty-five degrees to give the perfect running position. TO WHOEVER SEEKS TRUE STRENGTH & BRAVERY "A little off-putt

He stopped and looked at the young woman in front of him, wondering where and when he had met her, " do I know you?" The moment he asked that question, the smile on her face disappeared, a scowl formed on her pretty face, " don't mess with me lover boy, iam barbie, the girl you took home one night in Las Vegas, have you forgotten me? I have missed you so much" she said, her hand reaching out to touch him. Alex sigh, he could not even remember even the tiniest details about the young lady standing infront of him, he believed what happened in Las Vegas, stays in Las Vegas.

"The man in the black suit on the top balcony." The bartender glanced up, his expression instantly freezing. He lowered his voice, leaning across the counter. "You do not want to look at him too long, girl. That is Cassian Marchetti." "Cassian Marchetti?" Vittoria repeated the name even though it tasted unfamiliar on her tongue. "Who is he?" "The owner of this place," the bartender muttered, quickly wiping down a glass. "And the man who owns this city. If he is looking at you, my advice is to finish your drink and leave."

I pause to relax my breath, before continuing with a colder and firmer tone, “I won’t let you get away with this! I swear, you’ll all pay for what you’ve done to me!” Both of them glance at each other with cocky smirks plastering their faces before laughing out loud, even though everything I said is nothing short of deadliness. Bato is the first one to stop making the staggeringly unfunny noise. He angles his watery eyes at me while wiping them with his fingers. He then asks with a booming sarcasm, “What can you do against us? Especially against Alpha Primo?” His smirk broadens as he proudly answers his own question, “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do to harm us, but we have all the means

All I’d cared about was the night out; a chance to have some fun and maybe meet a cute guy. ‘What can I get you?’ The barman, like almost everyone else in the room, appeared to be half my age, tattoos snaking down both forearms where they were revealed beneath his uniform T-shirt, black with the words VELVET RIOT over the left breast. He didn’t blink an eye as I leaned in closer to answer his question, and my fears that I’d look out of place in such a young crowd faded just a little.

Elder Adolphus answered. "But he's mine to kill, and Alpha Bailey, or whatever the fuck he calls himself should back the fuck out," Cestus was close to raising his voice because anger was already flowing within him. He wanted to see the impostor's head pinned up on a spike and kept for the ravens to feast on.

"Don't mess with me! My boss is Wystan Roberts… He’s known as the Flying Centipede, and he’s the boss of the entire East Star District! He won’t forgive you if you do anything to me.” Pardo had no choice but to reveal the name of his boss, Wystan. He wanted to intimidate Elio with Wystan’s name. After all, Wystan was one of the few big shots in the Cloudsea’s underworld. Everyone gave him a wide berth. Elio had also heard about Wystan. He was probably as powerful as Tiger. Making an enemy of East Star’s boss would be troublesome… but trouble never stopped him before. "Is that so?" Elio's eyes were filled with disdain as he said coldly, "I don't care who your boss is. He’ll regret it if he pr

said the man who has a coconut haircut. When he felt them leave, he breathed a sigh of relief. But as soon as he came out, he was surprised by what he saw. The three men floated and grinned like demons. Migi rubbed his eyes to see if what he was seeing was true. The old men before had the faces of monsters now. They have bat-like wings and appear to be decaying in parts. "Do you think you can fool us?" shouted the straight-haired man. "W-what do you need from me? Money? Here’s my twenty pesos bill! " Migi forced his voice to be strong even though he seemed to be urinating in fear.

Carlo Salvatore was a man of contradictions, a monster whom many mistook for a saint, a killer. Standing at 6'4", he carried himself like the beast he was. His skin was a drawing board of violence, marked by knife scars from knife fights and gunshot wounds. A black spiderweb tattoo crawled up the left side of his neck, with which an inscription of a faded barcode LF-117, was covered. The barcode and the spiderweb tattoo were the only remnants of a past he’d burned to the ground.

the man’s voice was deep and raspy as if he’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes chased with a quart of whiskey. “We were in the bathroom getting ready to take a shower.” She motioned to Cruz who was standing behind her. “Who are you?” “Liborio Bartoli. Invite me in.” “I’d rather not. I don’t know you.” “Now.” “If I don’t,” she tapped her chin, “are you like a vampire and you can’t cross the threshold.”