Chainsaw Man Hand Novelas e Histórias

The man’s grip tightened on my hands and I whimpered. “I have a rare artifact,” he smiled devilishly. “My fist!” Before I could call Jack Robinson he grabbed the Alpha’s hand and threw him across a table. Everyone in the room arose immediately, focusing on us. Alpha Hansel’s eyes glowed monstrous red as he pulled his shirt off.

It seemed as though there was more to this than I'd thought after all. The handprint must have belonged to Mia. Given how she was acting so anxious now, it wasn't hard to gauge that she must be having some sort of unspeakable relationship with Rory. After stepping out of the elevator, Mia waved goodbye to me rather stiffly and awkwardly. I noticed that one of the clasps of the keychain on her bag was missing, so it was hanging lopsided. She didn't seem to have noticed, however. The clasp looked familiar. I felt as though I'd seen it somewhere before, but I couldn't recall when or where. Maybe it was similar to a shirt button or clasp I'd bought before.

He aggressively takes my hand and puts it on his hand, then grabs my other hand and also places it with my other hand. 'Now! Or you will go a week without any food!' he threatens. I stare down at my hands, covered in his blood. I don't know how to do it. Not sure what to do, I entwine my fingers through his, making him flinch from the sparks. The room remains silent as I stare intently at our hands, my hair begins to rise, and my hands begin to glow as my eyes become a bright silver. The warmth I felt earlier flows through my body again.

There are some things I don’t even recognize. When they finish their conversation and walk back to me, I look at Shane’s hands and my eyes widen when I see a thick flogger danging from his hand, a pair of handcuffs in the other. I’ve stripped down to my bra and panties when Shane’s eyes zero in on me again.

Not that I care. I hold out my left hand for a shake. He stares at my hand in confusion and then shakes it begrudgingly. In one quick, fluid motion, I tighten my grip on his hand, turn his hand over and with my right hand, slice the pad of his thumb with my blade. I then quickly press his thumb down onto the card leaving a bloody thumbprint behind.

The abandoned castle stands as a chamber of darkness, dripping with an unsettling silence. ASHER, his body weakened and broken, is chained to a cold, rusty wall. His eyes are wide with horror as he watches the hooded man approach, his sinister presence imposing. The hooded Man slowly bends down, his movements deliberate and methodical. He retrieves the severed thumb from the ground, cradling it carefully with an air of macabre fascination. The dim light glints off the Anki knife he used, a glimmer of sadistic pleasure in his eyes.

Today, in my own operating room, I was being framed as a murderer by a security captain, who had only gotten the job through connections. "Let go of me! You're committing a crime!" I struggled, desperately trying to break free from their grip. But just then, a polished leather shoe came down hard on the back of my right hand. It was Luke. He looked down at me with a cruel smile. Then, he slowly put more pressure on my hand. I heard a sickening crunch. The force crushed my finger bones. The searing pain made my vision blur, and I knew that this hand, which I'd held a scalpel with for over a decade, was ruined.

My hand was still trembling behind my back. Silence returned. Only the baby’s soft giggles remained. He lifted his small hands again, grabbing at the air. His tiny fingers wiggled, reaching out for something I couldn't see. I pulled the knife back from under him, gripping it tightly once more. “This is for the best…” I whispered. “This is freedom.” But as I raised the knife again, his little hand shot forward and grabbed my thumb tightly. His soft skin felt warm against mine. His fingers barely wrapped around my thumb, but his grip felt stronger than chains.

With a cold smirk, he swung a fist at Ronald's head. Before it could connect, a hand shot out, catching his fist mid-swing. "What the—" The man's expression twisted into shock. The next moment, a sickening crack echoed through the room. A sharp, guttural scream filled the air. The man's hand was crushed. His bones were shattered beyond repair. He staggered back, clutching his ruined hand and howling in agony. "My hand! My hand! You've destroyed my hand!" he shrieked. His eyes turned wild as he drew a knife with his uninjured hand, ready to strike.

"The frame is bending!" "Don't swing," Killian growled, his jaw clenched so hard a fresh stream of dark blood welled from his lower lip. His right hand reached upward, bypassing the broken pipe entirely, his thick, scarred fingers clawing directly into the iron chains wrapped around his own chest. "The extraction grate... look at the central spindle!"