Grunkle Stan Brass Knuckles Novels & Stories

Zane's eyes were turning a dark shade of purple. His lip was busted. “Screw you! Screw you Zane! Keep my wife out of your filthy mouth!” he barked. Zane retaliated landing a blow to Kane's stomach. Kane retched. He grabbed his stomach. The bastard had slipped on knuckle rings. “You're not the only one that can throw a punch bro.” Kane braced himself. Ignoring the pain in his gut. Knuckle ring or not, he was sending this guy to an early grave today.

And then he’d crossed his skinny-ass arms across his fuckin’ Metallica tee like he was ready to throw down or something. Punk ass poser. His knuckles hurt. He opened his eyes and held his hand in front of his face. Yeah, he’d punched something. Fingers scraped. Knuckles swollen. Black and blue and sorta yellow and, fuck me, red? Broken? He flexed his fingers. Nah, this was a wood punch, not concrete. Not flesh or bone. Wood. “It’s shit,” he’d screamed at Spike, his fists clenched. Fuck counting back from ten. “It’s fucking shit, man. I just want it fixed. It’ll take two fuckin’ seconds!”

I straightened and walked back to the metal table, then picked the silver, heavy knuckle braces before fitting them on my right hand. Stretching my hand a few times, I turned to Larry with a sinister smile, and the reality finally settled in like a wet blanket. "Wrong answer Larry." without a warning, I raised my arm and backhanded him in the face. The sound of metal slicing through solid muscles and tendons rang louder than church bells, followed by a loud scream that rattled the foundation of the entire building. Blood gushed from the four deep furrows that stretched from Larry's ear to the corner of his mouth. He clutched his side in horror, his body quaking as the pain finally braked.

Stan says as he puts his hand on my shoulder. I slowly release my boot from the Alpha’s throat. As I lift my boot, he grabs at his throat gasping for air. “You are fucking crazy,” he spits out hoarsely. I kick him in the chest, hearing the satisfying crunch of breaking bones. He screams once again, as Stan drags me away from his body.

I figured this one would turn on his buddy, but I guess I was wrong. "You know, if you thought you could come into my family and take from me, you were sorely mistaken." I swing my arm and hear the crack of his jaw as the brass knuckles make contact with it. A tooth flies from his mouth, followed by a spray of blood. I swing again; this time, it's his nose that takes the hit. "Motherfucker!" Lansky roars with anger, but I'm nowhere near finished with him. "Let me loose and fight me like a real man!"

Nora P.O.V My gaze landed on the table of weapons again. I needed to choose carefully for this round. The knife had served me well, but against their best, I would need something faster, something that would give me an edge. My fingers hovered over a pair of brass knuckles before I picked them up, the cold metal biting into my skin. This would work for me.As I strapped the knuckles onto my hands, I watched as the others armed themselves. Some chose heavier weapons but I knew that strength alone would not get me through this.

She deserved another raise. "Okay, let's see this baby," he said as he reached for the envelope opener in his drawer and cut through the box. He pulled out the brass knuckles and held them up, fascinated by how they glowed a rich bronze colour under the downlights. They were cold and heavy in his hands when he slipped them on. Not at all what he'd expected. But then again, what the hell did he expect from a weapon so barbaric? He flexed his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists as he repeated the motions a few times until he was used to the brass knuckles and felt confident enough he could punch someone without hurting himself in the process.

With a smirk playing on my lips, I decided to take a shot in the dark, figuratively speaking. "Look time no see, Piero," I remembered this fuckface. "You were the one who helped Massimo to unload smuggled the guns." He sneered at me like he was a venomous snake about to spit. "It's Pietro, you dumb fuck." I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at Piero's correction. Even Enzo seemed to be enjoying the show. I retrieved the brass knuckles from my pocket, feeling their solid weight in my hand. The knuckles were crafted from gleaming, hardened brass, reflecting a polished sheen as they glistened under the light. Their intricate design showcased a rugged elegance, boasting four individual finger ho

I expected Grim to jump up the moment he hit the ground, but he didn't move. "Grim!" his brother called out. The group charging the Marshal stopped and ran to him. Stitch rushed to check Grim's pulse, but after a moment, he looked back at the others in disbelief. "He's dead," Stitch said. "No, that's impossible," Gunner shouted. No ordinary bullet could harm a werewolf. Which could only mean… "Silver!" Stitch exclaimed. That's when I realized that the "brass" knuckles the Marshal used on me must have also been made of silver. The cuffs, too. That was the only explanation. They must have been plated with something that kept them from burning my skin. And then it hit me.

The targeted expert nearly cried out in frustration, "Damn it. There are five of us. Why pick me?!" Dominic kept closing the distance. The man was terrified. Realizing there was nowhere left to run, he roared, "Fuck it! I'll kill you!" He clenched a pair of brass knuckles and charged at Dominic without hesitation. To his surprise, both punches landed squarely on Dominic's chest. Brass knuckles were deadly weapons. They could tear flesh apart and leave bloody craters. Dominic was no exception. Blood quickly seeped from the wounds in his chest. Before the man could celebrate, he heard Dominic speak softly. "It hurts... but it feels good..."