Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Assailant. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Assailant Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Lorraine Heath,Joaquin Lowe,Jonathan Raban,Lol Funny Joke Club,Lucy Mcconnell for you to enjoy and share.
A friend who had a very charming and dangerous brother.
The glass is riddled with bullets on either side of The Stranger, but the glass before him is unbroken, as though the bullets didn't dare approach.
That's when I work out what he is: a bullet catcher.
In rural areas the majority of the victims of violent crime know their assailants (indeed, are probably married to them); in cities, the killer and the mugger come out of the anonymous dark, their faces unrecognized, their motives obscure.
Knock knock! Who's
Pamela shook her head as she swiveled the computer screen so Noah could see the grainy black-and-white video of a group of men in SWAT gear approaching a box. Soon there was a bomb-bot poking the thing, and finally a new man in protective gear picked it up. "Harley is being stalked by someone her
I am not staying with the murderer," she said, her words muffled by his jacket. "I am not staying with the victim Abel Tannatek or the culprit Abel Tannatek. I am staying with the storyteller.
Man near entrance is shot in the head at close range from behind. The other two, multiple stab wounds, genitals severed, other injuries. Also head and pubic hair ignited, shot, muzzle in mouth. Three bullets recovered, 45 calibre."
Villani: "So you can't rule out an accident?
A woman who struggles to recover from a brutal attack and sets out on a dark, psychological and physical journey for revenge and justice.
So here's the question," Melinda led in. "Who's Tall, Dark and Smoldering?
Victim-eyes of impersonal tragedy, to be impersonal no longer.
purple van pulled up to the curb. The side door rolled open. A cheerful male voice said, "Hey, there!" The last thing Alistair Oh saw was a large fist hurtling toward his face.
It is you!" the man exclaimed. "We thought you weren't coming for another
week!"
"Ashe," Sarene mumbled, "who is this lunatic and what does he want with me?
The Masked Man's son,
We're dodging bullets and this is right after we've just seen [inaudible] shot and we're running and the woman who John accused of being out to kill us and everyone thought he was kidding. When we see her she appears and she's after us.
What contemptible scoundrel has stolen the cork to my lunch?
Knock-knock, motherfucker.
What contemptible scoundrel stole the cork from my lunch?
Are you a weapon or a target? Choose!
A terrified-looking bystander, a nerdy man in a sweater, calls the police and stammers into the phone: 'A huge group of people are fighting and there's pepper spray and superheroes and I don't know.
I have a three-piece suit. I'm an art collector. I have a funny accent. So I'm probably the killer.
We're dealing with one of the worst kinds of killer." "What kind's that?" asked the lieutenant. "Patient.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.
This was not Hatch, her constant companion through the mouse hole. Nor was this the man who had methodically rescued her from a burning building. This was Hatcher, the murderer with the axe, the man who had been found covered in blood and surrounded by bodies.
If we were in a film, the villain would turn out to be the least-expected person. But as we aren't in a film, I'd go for the character who tried to strangle you.
Once upon a time, there had been a seventeen-year-old assassin who had never let anyone get closer to her. Then, with the turning of a page, her story changed forever.
Chapter I AN UNEXPECTED PARTY
I will get your some clothes, a sword, and your very own assassin to join you on your quest."
"Ooh, just what I've always wanted. A man whose job title had the word ass in it not once, but two times.
I never think of myself as an attacker, only as a defender - usually of rights - mine and others.
I love this dangerous, menacing asshole.
He who wishes to injure another, will soon find a pretext.
A silhouette was striding down the center of the road, heading for the alley we'd just vacated. Lean, tall, a long black coat rippling behind him, he was instantly recognizable. Even from this distance, I could see the glow of his sword, blue-black and deadly, and the glint of a cold silver eye.
Her victim - of necessity she must put him away from her - he must be removed from her presence, from this world. She must destroy the evidence of her offense. What was
The victim had been John Lewis, the theology student. He had been attacked by thugs in a white restroom in Rock Hill, South Carolina.
Unknown Assassin, says the headline. Blanche skips over the details she already knows. How bizarre to see what she lived through last night turned into an item tucked between stock prices and Crazy Horse whupping the army at Little Bighorn.
Deer in headlights.
Cornered suspect.
Mouse in the open, owls circling.
A door slammed next door. The serial killer looked up and over as a flurry of white fur pounded against the other side of the fence. "Don't start with me, you little runt, or you'll be next.
But who, he wondered in a moment's panic as her nearing heat began to assault him, who enforces the Enforcer?
Someone's been mean to you! Tell me who it is, so I can punch him tastefully.
a creature of impulse.
Instinctively, I shoved my arm into the void in front of my face and backed up. I heard heavy breathing, a soft grunt, and then I was roughly thrown aside. As the footsteps retreated, I tried to see who it was, but it was too dark.
There was no warning, not even a knock. The door flew open, and he forgot his present aches and pains in anticipation of what lay in store. The figure that stood in the door was not that of an enemy. It was worse. It was his mother.
Any idiot, especially one who is prepared to die, who has a gun, can start shooting up people.
Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
Is it found the Zodiac Killer or The Night Stalker?
What damn fool punches his own horse?
What was in the trunk?" I asked, and my eyes widened when he opened his coat and let me glimpse a big-ass rifle.
"I know these people," he said, his expression going hard. "We handle their insurance.
There's someone scary behind me, isn't there?
Kyle, open up. What kind of weirdo locks his bedroom door anyway?"
"The kind that has jerks staying over who steal girlfriends."
I pressed my fingers into my eyes and took a deep breath as the pain in back and legs got a little worse. "She wasn't your girlfriend."
"Irrelevant!" he yelled.
Who's the Angelfucker now?
The first thing I noticed was the gun in his hands, and it wasn't the sort of gun a beginner carries around with him. A big dull black German Mauser 7.63. One of those economical guns; the bullet goes clear through three people at once.
When I get loose, Cabarro, your ass is the first one I'm kicking." "Oh good. Hope you get out soon. Been awhile since I had a good ass-kicking." Bastien made a kissy face at him. "Says the man who's so bruised, he looks like a two-year-old banana." "Now that's just mean and hurtful.
Ninja Assasins Incorporated, Dan Cahill speaking. Who would you like offed today?
The human. Now you know all about your target
He made small talk on the way about how he was abandoned as a child and will only rest easy once he is avenged. His name was Tom.
There's blood behind the Night Stalker.
A strenuous soul hates cheap success. It is the ardor of the assailant that makes the vigor of the defendant.
She saw a lone figure running across the dark parking lot toward her, a weapon in his hands. ...*Not again.* And this time she was all alone. No Cole Walker, heroic police detective and star in too many of her fantasies, to save her.
Once you've been struck by violence, you acquire companions that never leave you entirely: Suspicion, Fear, Anxiety, Despair, Joylessness.
The Stalker seems to be weak, but essentially it is he who is invincible because of his faith and his will to serve others.
Insurgent, he says. Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the established authority, who is not necessarily regarded as a belligerent.
a misbegotten cockwaffle.
Don't you mean 'assclown'?" he looked amused.
"No," I said louder this time. "I mean asscrown. The crown on top of the asshat that covers the asshole of the assclown. The very zenith in the hierarchy of asses.
Now you are the helper of this victim, tomorrow the victim will be the killer and you will be the victim.
There ambush here relentless ruffians lay, And here the fell attorney prowls for prey.
Assail picked that moment to scream again - which,
This man is my stalker, my terrorizer, my lover.
Yesterday or the day before, while I had been going about my business, quietly and in private, some unknown person - some stranger - had gone to the trouble of marking my name onto this envelope. Who was it who had had his mind's eye on me while I hadn't suspected a thing?
Oh, I guess you wouldn't know, since you left the actual investigating for me to do. Well, buckle up, my friend, because I'm about to hand you actual clues to an actual crime, wrapped in a bow.
Stay where you are." It's a raspy male voice. A whiskey voice or just someone who took a hit to the throat hard enough that it never healed right. There are six other guys behind him. All are armed with homemade blades, morning stars, and slings. "Who
The idea of victimage is a dreadful thing, a product of a safe middle-class perspective. What people who are not safe develop is a tragic wisdom, a wisdom that embraces contradiction and seeks a sense of balance rather than going to extremes.
Contempt for an assailant is best shown by bravery in action.
You seem to vacillate between assistance and assault. Which is it?'
'I'm not surprised you've driven three men to try and kill you, I'm only surprised there weren't more,' said Damen, bluntly.
'There were,' said Laurent, 'more.
The victim who is able to articulate the situation of the victim has ceased to be a victim: he or she has become a threat.
To anyone out there who has ever been assaulted: You will never be alone. You are never alone. We have your back. I've got your back.
If you want to harass someone, scare someone, terrorize someone, you might want to pick someone that doesn't have a pissed off boyfriend waiting around the corner ...
In our struggle to restrain the violence and contain the damage, we tend to forget that the human capacity for aggression is more than a monstrous defect, that it is also a crucial survival tool.
Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?
An exhausted man easily falls prey to the adversary.
I want someone to attack me. No weapons. Just me and him. I like to beat men and beat them bad
I closed the door and sank into my desk chair. My heart was pounding even harder. I felt like someone who had just staggered out of her car after an accident on a freeway. This was different from the cockroach and the books and the Barbie. I'd been injured. Someone had tried to physically harm me.
But then - I was just following him in reverie over mountain and valley - he jumped with both feet onto the middle of my body. I shuddered with wild pain, utterly uncomprehending. Who was it? A child? A gymnast? A daredevil? A suicide? A tempter? An annihilator?
Side, party got out of hand. Guy shot five people with a
I could hardly see him in the darkness, but knew he wore a leather jerkin and had a sword at his side. The rest of us were in leather and mail, had helmets, and carried shields, axes, swords, or spears. Tonight we would kill. Sihtric,
Did you hear?" he asked. "They found another body around nine this morning. It's the Ripper, definitely."
"Good morning," I replied.
"Morning. Listen to this. The second victim ...
He who quarrels with a drunken man injures one who is absent.
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
The police have asked for my help. There's been a murder."
"A murder! Oh, my. Let me just change my shoes," Evie said excitedly. "It won't be a minute.
If he had attacked me outright, I might have been able to defend myself. Instead, he exposed my secret as if offering himself to me. I was left mute, listening to my heart pounding in my chest.
You might get only one shot. So shoot. You know who said that?"
The rifle clatters to the bloody floor.
"Hanna FUCKING Donnelly. That's who.
The attendant thinks it is some form of religious mania which has seized him. If so, we must look for squalls, for a strong man with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous. The combination is a dreadful one.
My kinky, foul-mouthed romantic gentleman lover.
What on earth is happening? asked a witness to these events (Rusty Montgomery, age 20, who insisted on not remaining anonymous and also wished this paper to record the fact that he is single).
A shocking ultimatum is issued; choose the victim or it defaults to someone you hold dear. And she has just minutes to decide. As each crime becomes more brutal, she is forced to play devil's advocate as she chooses the next target.
WITNESS
Excuse me. I think you must've accidentally used the wrong pronoun."
The growl that rumbled up out of his chest was loud enough to rattle the water glass on the bedside table.
"Fine, you can stand in the corner and cheer while I kill him.
What rattled and thumped was a knotted towel full of melting ice cubes. Somebody who loved me very much had put them on the back of my head. Somebody who loved me less had bashed in the back of my skull. It could have been the same person. People have moods.
I was too weak to defend, so I attacked
Killer with a polo mallet.
Who are these people?" my mother asked.
"Guess," replied Abe flatly. "Who would be foolish enough to break into court after escaping it?
I'm telling you people; its a zombie attack. Z to the Oto the M to the B to the I,E. ZOMBIE ... -Bubba
The man who entered was a stranger. He was young, tall, and something about him suggested violence, though she could not say what it was, because the first trait one grasped about him was a quality of self-control that seemed almost arrogant.