Knife Blank Hidden Tang の小説・ストーリー

I tell him. "But... I do have an idea..." I say. I leave the bathroom, walking into the closet to get dressed. I wear a knee length black skirt, which hides the 4 knife garters I have, 2 on each leg. I put on a bright red shirt, and my leather jacket. I take out my knives from Ansel's safe, and load all my hidden knife holders, then I dig out my belt from my bag, adding a holster for my gun and a few holders for throwing stars.

“This one’s for when you want to blend in but stay protected.” I nodded, grabbing the heavier vest and slipping it on. It hugged my torso like it was made for me. “Comfortable. Durable. What about backup?” Dimitri tapped another section of his bag, revealing smaller handguns and a set of knives. “Compact but lethal. Easy to conceal, easy to deploy. And these,” he said, holding up a pair of serrated blades, “are for when things get… close.” I picked up one of the knives, testing its balance. It was perfect, as if Dimitri had tailored every piece for me personally. “This’ll do.”

What attracted her the most was a military knife on the shelf behind his desk. The scabbard of the saber was made of leather, and it looked like it had been toyed with often. Its surface was smooth and glossy. She lifted her leg and walked over, reaching out her hand to take the military knife off the display stand. It was heavy. With one hand on the scabbard and the other on the scabbard, she pulled the saber out of the scabbard with a little force. The scabbard was spotless and gave off a cold glow.

“Pick one. Whatever feels least foreign.” I walked over. My fingers brushed the handle of a slim tactical knife—balanced, matte black. I lifted it. It felt right in my palm. Not comforting. Just… familiar in a way I didn’t want to examine. Nikolai nodded approval. “Now show me how you hold it.” I gripped it the way I’d seen in movies—reverse, blade along the forearm. He stepped closer, not touching, just demonstrating with his empty hand. “Wrong for close work. You lose reach and control.” He adjusted my fingers with the lightest press of his own. “Palm up. Thumb along the spine. Like this.”

No toys or anything around. "Where is your son?" Jasmine stopped dead in her tracks. A cold air swept through her spine making goosebumps grow on her skin. She had been avoiding the idea of even talking about him. The kind of emotions that swelled up within her were not warm or welcoming at all; there were cold, dark, and void of anything positive. "I don't know." She said blankly, then continued on cleaning a weapon in her hand. There was an OKC (Ontario Knife Company) marine combat knife, a Usmc marine tactical combat knife, a black Smith and Wesson's firearm and about a dozen bullets.

She, too, held out something. “What is it?” Stefanie picked up the slender object made out of some strange material. About the length and width of her finger with a clip on the end, it fit into the palm of her hand. “A knife you can hide practically anywhere. I thread it through my hair like an oriental stick. Squeeze the buttons on both sides at the bottom and the blade will eject from the top. But as Prescott said at Bunker Hill, ‘Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.’ Literally.”

“Good to hear. We will leave tomorrow morning.” Everyone filed out of the conference room except for Chris. He stayed behind, looking at the swords Jackson had created. Chris had admired the fact that Jackson had crafted everything, including the blade. The blade was only sharp on one side, unlike the rest of the swords in the bunker. Each of the blades had a small notch on the front side of the blade to lock it into place when attached.

"Oh? And what can you do, sweetheart?" I smiled coldly. My hand slid into my hair. I unpinned the jeweled hairclip Sebastian had gifted me—the one he called "just in case." I clicked it open, revealing the hidden blade. Serrated, sharp, almost needle-like. Designed to pierce deep and refuse to be pulled free. I trailed it gently across one man’s neck. He didn’t notice until the tip broke skin. "Ow—what the fuck?!" The others went still. "Try me," I said. "Please. Give me a reason."