Knuckles X Sonic Novels & Stories

… Meanwhile, as Ronan and Oscar went their separate ways, Gideon and Winter also got moving. Gideon wanted to meet Ronan because he was amazed by the latter's self-created Doombringer Knuckle. Compared to Oscar's Thundering Bruiser, his move was even more impressive. It was a seriously powerful fighting style. And Ronan mentioned it was still in its early stages and could improve for the better. Gideon didn't expect Ronan to teach him the Doombringer Knuckle, but he hoped they could chat about it. He figured it would help him a lot.

Brass Knuckles said. "Drop it!"

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 look back at Skinner. He hands me a small knife; I pulls up my shirt sleeve and cut a small line putting the same pressure Knuckles was and all I do is wince slightly. I wave the knife at him when I'm done. I see Knuckles smirking at me. The skin starts to tingle where I put the small cut and I feel a rush run through me.

“Maybe. But we can create our own version of happiness. The Sinners Men are the strongest in Sin city. The Nightfall Kings are the strongest in Nightfall Hills. As a team, we will be unstoppable, Karan.” “How do I know this isn’t bullshit?” Knox stepped back and bent at the waist. He touched his ankle, and when he stood, he was wielding a sharp knife. Maksim didn’t look fazed, not until Knox went to the sink and cut off his own pinky finger.

My head rings, and my vision blurs from the strike. My ears ring as I fumble on the ground. What the hell? His hits are hard, too hard. I look at his gloves and notice the tape around his knuckles outlining more than knuckles. Faint gold shining through split tape I realize why he's hitting with such force. He has fucking brass knuckles on! "Hey!" I yell at the guy standing outside the ring, trying to inform him of the knuckles. I run to the other side of the ring, wiping and smearing blood from my eye from my face.

Lucas growled. Ryan smirked. “I could say the same to you.” Lucas clenched his fists. “Move your damn car.” Ryan tilted his head slightly, as if considering. Then, he reached inside his jacket. But Ryan didn’t pull out a gun. Instead, he pulled out a pair of brass knuckles and slid them onto his fingers. My stomach dropped. “Let’s make this fair, shall we?” Ryan said, flexing his fingers. “No weapons. Just man to man.”

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!”