Novel & Cerita Weird Collector

I borrowed his things and never returned them the same. I told friends he was weird and soft and probably still a virgin at twenty-three. I left messes for him to clean because he was always home, always careful, always taking it. It felt good. Power felt good. He never pushed back, so I pushed harder. That was the order of things for six years. Then our parents left for Italy and the house became ours alone. Before they left my mother told me: “We will be back, please make sure you take care of yourself and your brother.” She knows how much I didn’t like him.

niha : you have a brother weirdo : yeah niha : it's a new model camera right weirdo : yeah my bro gifted me on the day when we arrived here for the first time niha : you both have a great bonding weirdo : yeah a lot he is the best brother niha smiled for her words but I seen tears rolling in weirdo's eyes me : he must be best because handling a weirdo is the toughest thing weirdo : who is weirdo you are the weird fellow me : is it I don't know weirdo : how can you know when you are weird psycho me : wow such a beautiful name thank you weirdo : thank you soon we will meet your girlfriend right then I will say to her your name me : who is my girlfriend weirdo : you have a poor memory right how

Can't this day become a little less adventurous. AUTHOR'S NOTE -. Hello guys, first of all, thank you to everyone reading this story. I would love to know your views on this book, 'the pack's weirdo: a mystery to unveil.' It would be great if you would take a few minutes from your schedule and post some comments or reviews. It would really be a huge morale booster for me to continue writing. Thank you

Really look. See the twelve-year-old boy who lost a family. See the man who built an empire on that wound. See the collector who can't stop collecting. "I told you I was a collector, Isla. I just didn't tell you I was collecting heads. Marcus's father destroyed my chance at a family. Now I'm destroying his."

The rift didn't just open; it corrupted. The violet light of the Sub-Directory was being eaten by a sprawling, geometric darkness that bled into the hangar like an ink stain on a liquid crystal display. The Collector didn't walk out of the shadows—it was the shadow. It was a shifting mass of obsidian scales and jagged, low-poly edges that seemed to lag and stutter as it moved, leaving a trail of pixelated void in its wake. [SYSTEM_IDENTIFICATION: GARBAGE_COLLECTOR_01] [OBJECTIVE: RECLAIM_UNALLOCATED_MAGIC] [TARGET_SIGHTED: ARCHITECT_01 / ALPHA_01]

“I know someone lives here and I hope I’m not intruding.” Since non one replied he decided to venture the building by himself. “Hmm… Why does this place look so familiar to the game I play… Even the placement of the furniture and… IS THAT?!” says Akihiko as he stumbles his way towards a weird statue kept at the end of the hallway and drools all over it while saying- “No way… Someone made this event-exclusive item too that only ever released when I wasn’t even born! Whoever lives here isn’t someone I should mess with.”

The collector smiled. "You misunderstand." His eyes gleamed. "There were hundreds once." Drift crossed his arms. "So?" "This is the last one." The room went quiet. Even Drift understood that. Not because it was sacred. Because it was rare. The collector smiled again. That same awful smile. The smile of a man collecting pieces of something dying. Like mounting heads on a wall. Nero hated him instantly. The ride home was quiet for a long time. Drift broke first. "Still got paid."

and leave empty-handed. That solution seemed better than sitting at home and telling them the truth about my current financial situation. My plan was coming along just perfectly… until I saw it. A delicate gold bracelet, from the Hanz Collection, the latest design from Car***r Simple. Elegant. Perfect. The price tag stared back at me: $70,000. My stomach twisted. Where the hell was I supposed to get that kind of money? If Natalie would just pick up her damn phone, I wouldn't have to worry about price.

I was sure the moon goddess would give Mason someone better, that would love him genuinely, and he wouldn't feel like he needed to compete with anyone. We made a lot of stops because I had to eat and I had to pee. Mason laughed at me while Marcus grumbled. They took turns driving while I slept most of the time at the backseat of the jeep. We arrived at the gunsmith's house. His name was Isaac Western, he was the only gunsmith that made bullets capable of killing werewolves, and because of that, he was filthy rich. I knew Marcus had more money, but for a human, he was filthy rich. What Marcus had was generations of hard work, this man, made his money in his lifetime.

"No. Afraid not. But there used to be a certain individual who could temper it, kind of take the edge off, so to speak. Unfortunately, she ran away." "She?" "Yeah, some usemi they captured a long time ago. I don't know much about her." "Usemi?" Peter and Zander's conversation about my mother's death came to mind. They mentioned a usemi. "Man, I could use a white board right now." Dante laughed. "Actually, I should just show you my secret website. The people I work for are not the most honorable, if you know what I mean. I've been saving information about them and all kinds of stuff, including whatever histories I can find about us, usemi, akharu, the sethians, and all that crap, just in case