Bloodshot Watch Full No Sign Up Watch Here imdb id tt1634106
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- review - Based on the Valiant Comics character of the same name; Bloodshot stars Vin Diesel as Marine Ray Garrison. When he and his wife are murdered, Ray is resurrected by a secret team of scientists. Enhanced with nanotechnology, he becomes a superhuman, biotech killing machine. As Ray first trains with fellow super-soldiers, he cannot recall anything from his former life. But when his memories flood back and he remembers the man that killed both him and his wife, he breaks out of the facility hellbent on revenge, only to discover that there's more to the conspiracy than he originally thought
- creator - Jeff Wadlow, Don Perlin
- Genres - Action
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Blood Shot Full Movie Free Download And Watch Online Blood Shot Full Movie INFO Release Date: February 21, 2020 (USA) Rating: NR IMDB Popularity 653 Year: February 21, 2020, (USA) By: United States of America Directed by: Dave Wilson Genre: Action | Drama | Fantasy | Sci-Fi Duration: 2h 02 min Budget: $85 million Screenplay by: Wadlow and Eric Heisserer Writers: Eric Heisserer (screenplay), Bob Layton (comic book) Stars: Toby Kebbell, Sam Heughan, Eiza González, Vin Diesel Distributed by: Age: 13+ Ray Garrison, an elite soldier who was killed in battle, is brought back to life by an advanced technology that gives him the ability of super human strength and fast healing. With his new abilities, he goes after the man who killed his wife, or at least, who he believes killed his wife. He soon comes to learn that not everything he learns can be trusted. The true question his: Can he even trust himself? Rating: IMDb / 8. 9 To watch this movie please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video CREATE A FREE ACCOUNT TO WATCH THE FULL MOVIE Vin Diesel Born: July 18, 1967 (age 52 years), New York, New York, United States Eiza Gonzalez Born: 30 January 1990 (age 29 years), Northport, New York, United States Sam Heughan Born: 30 April 1980 (age 39 years), Dalby, Australia Toby Kebbell Born: July 9, 1982 (age 37 years), Perth Royal Infirmary, Perth, United Kingdom Guy Pearce Born: 5 October 1967 (age 52 years), Rocky Mount, North Carolina, United States Lamorne Morris Born: August 14, 1983 (age 46 years), Brooklyn, New York, United States.
Part one part six The sound of shattering glass boomed from the kitchen, jolting my eyes away from the laptop. “Show yourselves! ” said Father Bonnard, raising his crucifix. The metal glowed with the light of the candle in his other hand, as if it were made of glass. Father Bonnard’s command was met by whispered laughter, which echoed unnaturally around the apartment like ricocheting bat shrieks. “Give us the priest and we will set you free, ” said Raphael from some unseen place in the apartment. Based on the proximity of his voice, it sounded like he was on the ceiling. The thought of Raphael lurking in the shadows above my head, bloodshot eyes tracking me in the darkness, constricted my lungs. For a moment I actually considered accepting Raphael’s offer. Father Bonnard deserved to die; his evil was not only a plague on the city, but the Catholic faith that I cherished so dearly. And besides, watching Raphael tear out his throat would be a satisfying slice of situational irony. Father Bonnard had damned the boy’s soul to Hell, so why shouldn’t the boy get to do the same? Why not let him enact justice, Hammurabi style, on the priest’s unsuspecting flesh? That I considered facilitating such a heinous act—even for a moment—filled me with shame. How could I let fear, no matter how palpable, mutilate the ethics of my faith? If the situation would’ve allowed it, I would’ve supplicated myself below the portrait of Jesus Christ to my right and begged for forgiveness until my throat turned raw. As it stood, I only had my guilt to show for my penance, which I offered up to the Lord like the ancient goat sacrifices of the Hittites. Father Bonnard must’ve sensed my temptation (and my subsequent guilt) for he smiled at me wanly through the shadows blanketing his face like a thick mist, as if he were forgiving me for thinking of throwing him to the wolves. “Consider my proposition wisely, ” said Raphael. “Remember, I’m the one who revealed the priest’s true nature to you. I could’ve announced your presence yesterday as you hid in the closet, but I wanted you to witness the perversion of your faith. Our goal is the same. We both want to overturn the decaying sepulcher that is Catholicism, starting with the sadistic priest standing beside you now. ” Father Bonnard snapped his piercing eyes onto mine. “What is he talking about? ” he said. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. No matter how hard I tried to think of a response, I didn’t know what to say. I felt like my mouth had been wired shut, and stood there silently beside Father Bonnard like a frightened mute. Luckily Angela’s voice broke the silence that had descended over the apartment, saving me from having to speak. “My companion is too merciful, ” she said. Her hoarse voice assaulted my ears with dagger-like stabs. “I will kill you both. Then I will send your souls plummeting into the darkest pits of Hell. ” I watched in horror as Angela suddenly lowered from the ceiling. The air surrounding her decayed body morphed as she moved, as if she were bending the very fabric of space-time. I didn’t have long to contemplate this strange phenomenon though—for she lunged at us with such speed that my eyes hardly registered her movements. She crashed into our bodies and sent us hurtling towards the floor. The air flew from my lungs as my sternum struck the ground. I tried to sit up so I could catch my breath, but Angela leapt upon my back before I had the chance to take even a single labored breath. With a scream so piercing it nearly exploded my eardrums, Angela sunk her cold fingers into my hair and started pounding my head into the ground. My eyes filled with stars as my forehead continuously struck the floor like an over-sized hammer, and my stomach rolled with nausea from the vertigo caused by my concussed brain. Despite the vitriolic mixture of pain and fear circumventing my body, I started laughing. My laugh morphed into a croak as my jaw loosened from the pounding, but my mirth remained. To think that Angela of all people—the woman who had begged me to help her only a day ago—would be the one to murder me was hilarious. Kindness and fragility were her dominating characteristics, and there she was trying to explode my skull on the carpet. The entire incident reeked of humor; even I found it funny, and I was moments away from blacking out. But then I remembered Angela’s violent death, and the invader that now re-animated her body, and my laughter stopped. “Release him! ” said Father Bonnard from somewhere to my left. I heard the pounding of feet across the carpet, followed by the splattering of water. Angela screamed moments later, released my hair, and went careening towards the kitchen. Father Bonnard had doused her with what remained of the holy water. If I wouldn’t have been so focused on regaining my breath, I would’ve smirked at the sight of her smoking skin. “Get up, ” said Father Bonnard. He grabbed my shoulders and hoisted me to my feet. He then grabbed another crucifix from the wall and placed it in my hand. “You’re going to need this. It’s time you start defending yourself. And besides, I need your help if we’re going to escape with our lives. ” I wrapped my fingers around the crucifix and nodded my head. “Lead the way, ” I said. Father Bonnard started creeping towards the kitchen, candle and crucifix raised in front of him like sword and shield. I followed him closely, clutching my newfound weapon so tightly my knuckles ached. I could hear Angela flailing inside the kitchen like a wounded bear. Father Bonnard’s holy water had splashed directly into her face—I imagined her eyes dangling from her sockets like cracked eggs, and shuddered. We had her on the ropes. All we needed to do now was give her one final push to send her plummeting back to Hell, with Raphael soon to follow. Father Bonnard’s candle illuminated the kitchen, highlighting Angela writhing on the ground like a fish out of water, face half-melted by the holy water. Her eyes had entirely dissolved, revealing dark, desolate sockets that consumed the light of the candle like a black hole. The skin on her nose and cheeks laid in tatters on the floor around her. Where once her face had been slender and beautiful, it was now gnarled and crooked, with nothing but exposed tendons and blackened flesh to remind those who dared gaze upon her of her once captivating beauty. We paused next to the pitiful corpse and stared down at it with contempt, minds silently debating about how to put it out of its misery. “I’ll finish her off, ” said Father Bonnard. He raised his crucifix in preparation to strike. Just as he was about to bring the cross down onto her ever-disintegrating head, Raphael leapt from the shadows, eyes wild, and wrapped his hands around Father Bonnard’s throat. “Don’t you dare touch her! ” said Raphael. He squeezed his fingers so hard around Father Bonnard’s neck the priest’s eyes bulged. Their shoes skidded across the linoleum as they struggled for power over one another. Occasionally one of their feet would land on Angela, snapping a finger or cracking a rib. Father Bonnard’s face turned a sickly purple. Several of the vessels in his eyes popped from the pressure being exerted on his skull, filling his eyes with blood. Just as I feared that he might suffocate, he reared back with all of his strength and plunged his crucifix onto Raphael’s forehead. Smoke billowed off of the child’s skin as the metal cross burrowed into his flesh. Much to my horror, Father Bonnard’s valiant effort only angered Raphael more, and caused the possessed child to tighten his fingers around the priest’s throat. Raphael screamed in pain as his charred flesh tumbled onto his sunken chest, but still he refused to release his prey. He was like a cornered viper; I could tell that he would do anything in his power to claim his kill. Soon all that remained of his forehead was the withered, bloody crown of his skull, which reflected the light of the candle rolling along the ground in flashes of black and crimson. “Help me! ” stammered Father Bonnard, drawing upon what little oxygen remained in his lungs to address me. He re-positioned his crucifix onto Raphael’s cheek, and closed his eyes as a fresh wave of smoke washed over his face. Father Bonnard’s words sprung me into action. I leapt over Angela’s writhing legs and tackled Raphael to the ground. The child’s ribs cracked as my full weight landed on top of him. Pain and confusion overtook his bloodshot eyes as the stringy remains of his blackened cheek went tumbling into his mouth. I watched from my place on the ground as Father Bonnard stumbled, wheezing heavily, towards the dining room table. After pausing for a moment to clear his sweat-drenched eyes, he picked up the porcelain bowl that contained the pasta we had eaten for dinner and scrambled back into the kitchen. “Back away from him! ” he said, raising the bowl above his head. I leapt off of Raphael’s chest just as Father Bonnard pummeled the base of the bowl into the demon’s face. Raphael’s limbs flailed from the force of the blow. I watched as a fracture spread across his exposed skull like an earthquake fault line and cringed. What happened next I do not have the heart to write. Suffice it to say that blood, pasta, and bits of skull soon covered the entirety of the floor, and both Raphael and Angela’s bodies—which had been used for purposes so vile I shudder even now—were finally allowed to enter their eternal slumbers. May God have mercy on their souls. --- “The deed is done, ” said Father Bonnard. He released his grip on the bowl and sent it clattering onto the filth-laden ground. I averted my gaze from the mess below me. The copper scent of blood filled my nose, triggering my gag reflex. “You’re in shock, ” said Father Bonnard. “I’ve got something that will help you. ” He disappeared into the bathroom inside the master bedroom, then returned a few moments later carrying a glass filled with a dark liquid. “Drink it, ” he said. “It will make you feel better. ” I grabbed the glass from his hand. “What is it? ” I said. “Medicine. ” If my mind hadn’t been reeling from the horrors that had just taken place, I would’ve questioned him further. Given the intense fear numbing my reason though, I simply nodded and downed the liquid. Within moments my vision grew blurry. I stumbled into the living room, then went crashing to the ground. The last thing I saw before falling unconscious was Father Bonnard leaning over me, eyes filled with hatred. --- I awoke an indeterminable amount of time later in a dark room. I tried to move my arms, but the sound of rustling chains greeted my ears. It was then that I realized my limbs were bound to the wall; I couldn’t move any more than six inches before my chains locked into place. Panic filled my lungs as I darted my sightless eyes around the chamber. No matter how hard I strained my pupils though, I couldn’t make anything out in the darkness. My senses were completely nullified; I could hardly tell up from down. My throat was still sticky from the liquid that I had consumed earlier. I chastised myself for falling for Father Bonnard’s ruse. How could I be so stupid to accept anything the priest gave me, much less a strange liquid? To think that I had come so far only to make such a careless mistake made my blood boil. I had been so close to stealing the laptop—to finding out not only what sick plans were driving Father Bonnard, but the entire Church. Now I would die in this demented chamber, lonely and forgotten. The clanking of my chains must’ve alerted Father Bonnard, for a trapdoor opened to my right moments later, flooding the room with light. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but when they did I let out a terrified scream. Chained to the walls around me were a dozen corpses. All were in varying stages of decomposition, and slumped against their chains like fetid rag-dolls. Bizarre symbols covered their naked flesh, which were caked with dried blood and looked so evil that they stole the air from my throat. I heard the thudding of feet on the wooden ladder that descended into the chamber, and turned my head just in time to see Father Bonnard reach the ground. “It’s about time you woke up, ” he said. “For a while I was wondering if I had accidentally killed you. ” He strode over to me and paused two feet away from my face. All of the gore that had been plastered to his clothes and skin had been washed away; he must’ve showered and changed while I had been unconscious. I looked down at his hands and saw that he was carrying a book. “Why are you doing this to me? ” I said. “What is this place? ” “This is my temple. My private sanctuary in which I hold communion with God. All of my work, my true work, takes place in this chamber. These walls are sacred. When Jesus Christ returns to Earth, it will be in this room. I can assure you of that. ” I tried my best to hide my incredulity, but I doubted that I did a good job—for Father Bonnard’s words were so bizarre that they frightened me even more than the corpses pinned to the walls. “You’re delusional, ” I said, voice surprisingly strong. I had feared that my distress would cause my voice to come out as little more than a croak. “Do you honestly believe what you’re saying? ” “Of course I do. And if you possessed the knowledge that I possess, you wouldn’t be asking me such a ridiculous question. ” “What knowledge? ” “The knowledge in the Apostolic Archive. ” “What do you mean? What knowledge has the power to influence someone to commit such horrible crimes? ” “You have no idea. ” My hands trembled as Father Bonnard’s eyes bored into my own. Blood still filled his corneas from when Raphael had popped his blood vessels, making him look like a cadaver in the low light. “Why are you telling me this? How do you know I won’t reveal your secrets the moment I get the chance? ” Father Bonnard let out a laugh that froze the marrow in my bones. “Reveal me to who? ” he said. “The police? The press? The Church runs both. Good luck getting anybody to take your side over ours. My work has been going on for centuries—long before either you or I were born—and will continue for centuries more. I’m not the first priest to follow my particular line of inquiry, and I certainly won’t be the last. “Even if you could convince anybody that I’ve committed the horrible crimes that you say I have though, it matters not. Your life is rapidly coming to a close. Any revelations that you have uncovered about myself or the Church will follow you to your grave. ” “If killing me is your plan, then why did you bring me down here? Why didn’t you just slit my throat, or pierce my heart while I was unconscious? It would’ve saved you a lot of trouble. ” Father Bonnard tightened his grip on the book. “I need your flesh. The inversione di fortuna rite works best while the subject is still alive. I can make use of corpses, yes, but the results are often unpredictable. I don’t need another incident like what just happened upstairs. How Raphael and Angela escaped from their chains I don’t know. All I know is that you won’t be so fortunate. ” He thumbed open the mysterious book to a yellowed page near the center. “Try not to look so bleak. You never know. With the adjustments I’m going to make to the wording this time, maybe Saint Paul will commandeer your body instead of Belial. ” Before I had a chance to respond he started reciting a passage from the book. Ancient Latin phrases reverberated around the chamber, sending my hair on edge. I felt like a pig being led to slaughter, and resisted the urge to scream. As Father Bonnard continued reading the rite, I felt a tingling sensation ripple across my body. This tingling started in my toes, and within moments passed through my cranium. Never before had I felt so violated. I felt as if something alive was writhing underneath my skin. Before I knew it my entire body was shaking, sending my chains exploding against the wall. Just as I feared that I might pass out, Father Bonnard fell silent. He stared at me for a few moments, eyes gleaming in the light drifting down from the still-open trap door, before pulling a knife from his tunic. I grimaced as he cut away my shirt and began to carve symbols into my stomach. These symbols were archaic in shape; never once had I come across them in my studies. Blood pooled around my feet as he continued lacerating my skin. Each slice was more painful than the last, and soon tears streaked my cheeks. When every inch of my torso was covered in these vile marks, he thumbed back open the book and continued reciting the rite. My shaking became exponentially more violent. White foam shot from my mouth like a shotgun spread and splattered Father Bonnard’s face. The priest simply wiped away the saliva and continued reading, as if my physiological reaction was the most normal thing in the world. Suddenly, and without warning, an alien presence exploded into my mind. This presence felt evil, and filled me with such despair that soon a desire to slit my writs overtook me. I sent up a desperate prayer to God to save me from such a horrible death—to keep the demonic entity slowly devouring my body from stealing my soul. Just as I was about to succumb to the vile presence infiltrating my spirit, a guttural scream sounded to my left, cutting off Father Bonnard’s words. The moment the priest’s recitation stopped so did my convulsions. My mind instantly cleared; never before had I felt such joy. I turned to my left just in time to see what I had previously thought to be a corpse lunge forward and wrap its arms around Father Bonnard’s chest, pulling him towards the wall. The chains confining its limbs groaned with the effort—had Father Bonnard been standing a mere six inches further away he would’ve been safe from the creature’s clutches. As it stood, he had been positioned within the entity’s grab radius, and was now struggling to free himself like an ensnared insect. Father Bonnard let out a petrified scream as the corpse-like man sunk its teeth into his neck. Blood poured from his exposed vein like a ruptured water line, and collected in the folds of his tunic. No matter how hard Father Bonnard struggled, his captor’s steel-like grip held true. The demon quivered with ecstasy as it slurped down the priest’s blood. Who knows how long this experiment-from-hell had been languishing in the chamber, biding its time for the perfect moment to enact revenge on the man responsible for holding it captive. Based on the level of decomposition its body had endured, I would say a long time. A long time. Father Bonnard let out a final frightened shriek, then went limp in the creature’s arms. I watched in suspense as the entity, after taking a few more gulps of blood, proceeded to check his pockets for a key. After a few moments of searching it found the key and freed itself from the chains that had confined its limbs for a small eternity. It then fled naked from the chamber on its shaking and atrophied legs, leaving me standing there alone as Father Bonnard slumped to the ground beside my feet. --- Procuring the key for myself proved to be quite the challenge, but after a mighty stretch I was able to grab it from the lock that the creature had left it dangling from. The moment I freed myself from my chains my heart burst with relief. Only moments ago I had thought that this chamber would be my tomb. That I was now free filled me with such joy my hands shook. I rubbed at the bruises dotting my wrists and peered down at Father Bonnard. If the priest wasn’t already dead, he certainly would be soon. Such a massive pool of blood surrounded him that it had to be impossible for him to survive. So after taking a final glance around the chamber, I climbed up the ladder shaking (but relieved) and back into the light. --- The cool surface of the laptop greeted my hands, causing me to smile for the first time in days. I rummaged through the desk drawers for a few moments, and laughed with delight when I found a small slip of paper that contained all of Father Bonnard’s login information. I powered on the laptop. After a few minutes of searching the computer’s hard drive, I located the Apostolic Archive, and signed in. Such a wealth of documents populated the screen that my heart started palpitating. Now wasn’t the time to peruse them though. I was still in danger; I needed to return to the safety of my hotel room before word of Father Bonnard’s death spread. Just as I was about to hurry out of the apartment, my mind leapt to a stack of photos that I had come across in the desk, and I paused. I had been so consumed with finding Father Bonnard’s login information that I had neglected to look through these photos. Although I knew that I needed to flee from the Vatican Palace while I still had time, my curiosity got the better of me, and I returned to the desk. What I saw turned my stomach. The content of these photos was mundane—they were all photos of Father Bonnard posing with other priests—but the date turned my blood to ice. 1886. --- Ever since stealing the laptop, I’ve been on the run. The Church quickly learned of my involvement in Father Bonnard’s demise (how I don’t know) and have been hunting me ever since. They will stop at nothing to re-procure the laptop—a fact which becomes clearer to me by the day. My life is in constant danger now, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The documents in the Apostolic Archive are too important not to share with the public; I would rather die than let such profound knowledge remain hidden. In short, the laptop I stole from a Catholic priest has access to the Vatican’s Secret Library. And now the disclosure begins. LISTEN.
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