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W for Winterview Chapter 17“So,” said Bea as she joined them on the bus, “How did it go?”W for Winterview Chapter 17 by Novum-Semita
“How did what go?” asked Bonnibel, feigning ignorance.
“Y’know, last night,” replied Bea.
“I knew it,” said Bonnibel as Bea sat down, “I knew you lot were behind this.”
“Behind what?” asked Bea.
“You asked Brendan to go out with me,” she replied, looking stern.
“No way, Princess,” said Lady, “We had no idea he was going to ask you out.”
“Lady, he told me,” replied Bonnie. Then her stern look broke into a smile and she laughed, “Look, I appreciate the match-making but I’m okay, really.”
“LSP told us you were lonely,” Fina burst out. Bonnibel blinked a few times at this.
“Lonely?” she repeated, “Where’d she get that idea?”
“I don’t know,” replied Fina, “She just said something about the stages of loneliness.
Sweet Death: Into The Black P10Epilogue: UnitySweet Death: Into The Black P10 by KleinerKiller
At the dawn of next morning, the populace of the Candy Kingdom was shocked by the emergence of several figures from the dungeons under the castle. The individuals were withered, bloodied, and severely burnt, but for the most part in lucid enough states to tell their stories. They were, according to the testimonies, the only surviving individuals ever to set foot in Blackbox's compound other than the man in the hood himself.
When Blackbox's powder bombs had gone off, several of the cell doors meant to be fixed open had been slammed tightly shut by the force, trapping the survivors -- two tortured prisoners and one shellshocked member of the task force sent to raid the compound -- within the almost airtight confines. Streams of scorching powder still found their ways in through air filtration systems and seams in the containment structures, but not in large enough quantities to be immediately fatal. When the literal and metaphorical dust had settled, the trio were able to
Sweet Death: Into The Black P9Chapter 9: Pitch BlackSweet Death: Into The Black P9 by KleinerKiller
For a single second, perhaps less, Marceline thought that everything would turn out okay.
As much as she hated the man lying below her, clutching the wound from her opening strike, she had to admit that she would be dead without him. If he hadn't gotten so arrogant as to change his absurdly well-thought-out plans at the last minute and get a strike in with his own hands, she would be nothing more than a pile of bloody, sun-bleached ash ready to be dispersed into the wind with little fanfare.
But she was now amped up on two consecutive exposures to pure human blood: first from the source, she shuddered to think, and then through maximum color extraction from the splashes on her clothes and body. For a vampire, that was a brief window into godhood -- hopped-up abilities, plus the added benefit of being able to regenerate from usually lethal traumas. She was feeling stronger, faster, and more perceptive than she remembered feeling throughout her centuries of life, a
Sweet Death: Into The Black P8Chapter 8: The ProjectSweet Death: Into The Black P8 by KleinerKiller
The world no longer made sense.
All of the murders, the attacks, the manipulations, the gambits, all tying back together to the one figurehead who was now looking her in the eyes. All of the fear and the paranoia leading up to this one confrontation, and she wasn't satisfied or relieved at all.
The bodies of her allies smoldered in the rooms behind her.
Somewhere out there in the cold, dark kingdom, Finn's exsanguinated corpse was starting to go into rigor mortis.
And Marceline... Marceline...
Dead of a kukri through the heart.
All by the will of one man. One target. One ideal upon which all of her problems could be centered. A hooded vigilante with delusions of grandeur. A terrorist. A maniac stalking the streets at night. A reason for families to hide in their homes and guards to set up almost dystopian amounts of watchtowers and security checkpoints. A threat.
"I'm sorry, Princess, but it is true, no matter what your expression tells me you might
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