Weird Collector Novels & Stories

That wasn't my assumption, but hearing him say it felt like a gong was struck in my head. "Secondly, the Collectors operate differently from other organisations. We don't do interrogations and arrests like the police." He stated coldly. "No. The collectors, we hunt, we find, we steal, and we kill. It's not a dog-eat-dog world; it's a predators-eat-prey world. See, we don't just kill our enemies, Mr Richards. We feast on their flesh and bathe in their blood. Our level of brutality is second only to nature's cruel conditioning. So tell me, Mr Richards. Would you be willing to bathe in blood for the rest of your life just stand by his side?" He leaned against the tree.

It is not that I am boasting myself, I am just stating the fact, that is all. Using my sharp claw, I rip that sack out. Which surprisingly let out one weird red eads that is like a blood like colored thing. Although, unlike blood, its color is nothing but a little beads. “That was… pretty weird” I mumbled as I can’t figure out what was its usae. Eve so, I decided to pick it up and store it in a container I always carry. Better do something than feel sorry. After all, I am that kind of person who would eventually regret some of the things that I made.

I asked. “Because I trade in rumors,” he said flatly. “And because those who once claimed the beacon were not merely keepers but curators of old tools. Tools that changed governance and hearts.” He tapped a wooden box on his table. “A curious merchant once sold me a shard stamped with the same sigil as your mural. I sent it on, thinking it a fake. Maybe I was wrong.” Mara raised a brow. “Who did you send it to?” Solan’s eyes flicked. “A collector who deals in relics only from the Old Coast. He’s not in this market. You’ll find him in the Stone Quarter — name’s Halver — if you have coin.”

Celeste blurted out, even surprising herself for a moment. And wouldn't that actually make sense? Celeste couldn't help but recall all the despicable actions of those hunters. They swooped in and snatched up the werewolves by the bunch, but instead of finishing them off, they kept them alive. So, every time these hunters went out on their hunting spree, it was all about collecting samples? What the heck were they planning to do with them? As these thoughts raced through Celeste's mind, anger started to bubble up, morphing into a genuine concern for her parents. Her gaze shifted to Raymond, silently demanding an explanation. But to her dismay, Raymond remained as tight-lipped as a clam.

Gone are the days of malls seen in old magazines; it looked like fun but I’d be bored in three seconds with no one to kill. “Take your time.” I say sarcastically when I’ve done a full circuit of the store, I’ve dropped multiple items next to the till and now I’m just waiting for the collector to come and help me. I made the mistake of trying to rush one of the collectors before and I have a scar on my left shoulder from where he shot me. Francis just laughed and told me he would have done worse if I had done that to him. Collectors run our shops; they have little to do with The Academy and have rules of their own.

Sullivan sighed. "Whoever does this enjoys the pain they inflict." Sullivan nodded in agreement. "We'll catch the bastard who's done this. Everyone slips up eventually, leaves something behind." "Yeah, everyone except this guy. It's like he's a ghost. You've heard the rumours about a collector hired by cartels and biggest gangs to clean up their messes, ensuring no one finds out how they are connected. It's like some kind of twisted voodoo magic, with how easily the bodies are dumped and no one, not even cameras catch them." I grabbed the cup of coffee from her hand. Taking a big gulp, I resisted the urge to gag as the coffee grounds hit my tongue.

Slowly, the uproar died down. While it was inevitable that I continued to hear gossip about myself and received insults from the people online who had nothing better to do with their time, it felt as if the storm had blown over. That continued until I gleefully showed my dormmates my new bracelet. "William gave it to me. It's from the latest collection, and it cost nearly two thousand dollars!" Connie and Brenda happily admired my bracelet, and I clearly saw the look of jealousy and contempt on Natasha's face as she stood behind them.

There is also a lot of people wandering around. He walks towards the bookstall when a book catches his attention. Kasper frowned upon reading its title, The Devil Werewolf. "Oh, hello there! You must be interested in mythical creatures. Are you going to buy that book?" asked an old man, who seemed to be the seller. "Yes," he just said. The seller tells him the price and Kasper immediately pays for it. After Kasper bought the book, he find a place that can be a seat. He also uses his mind link to tell Flint his whereabouts, it wasn't far from the place where Flint buys food.

He nodded knowingly as he said, "You should've listened to me earlier. Based on your dream, I think we need to dig into the school's history." I asked in frustration, "But how? If we ask the teachers, would they even tell us anything?" Noah knocked on my forehead lightly like I was some nincompoop. "Why ask the teachers? Doesn't the school have a library?" The "library" he referred to was actually an abandoned archive room. An elderly, retired teacher named Kent Gibson managed it. His long beard reminded me of the wise old sages I saw in historical dramas. Noah and I spent ages sifting through dusty books and files. Eventually, we found several records of strange occurrences in the school.

Just as the last waves of my orgasm were still ripping through me and I was panting hard against the marble, the building’s emergency alert suddenly blared loud through every speaker in the penthouse. Red lights started flashing along the walls and a robotic voice cut through everything announcing that a credible new kidnapping threat had been detected approaching the penthouse floor forcing us to move right away.