Knuckles X Sticks Novels & Stories

That punch was indeed powerful, but it wasn't nearly enough to stop him. "Mr. Crosby, stay where you are." Then, Gideon struck. It was the Doombringer Knuckle.

I watched the guy's every move. The way he shuffled his feet, his posture and even the way held his fists. The bell rang, and some music started blaring again. It was 'Awake by Godsmack'. He jumped for, and I ducked just in time for him to miss. I shot back up and remembered what Liam said. Kicking is my strong point. I can thank six years of soccer for that.

He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck until it popped. Then, he grinned. “It’s time for a fucking rematch,”

The main attack of marksmanship is on this stab, so it is extremely fierce, but the stick is different, because there is no spear tip, and it uses more swing, chop, poke and lift as elements. There are few ways of attack seen as marksmanship, but not everyone can follow. It is far better than countless killing moves. Allen Peterson only felt dizzy. The stick had come to his eyes. If he didn't think about it, the blow would kill him. looking at the stick close at hand, Allen Peterson's Adam's apple rolled up and down. Xu Xiu, who picked up the weapon, was so terrible that he didn't give him reaction time at all. Fortunately, Xu Xiu's purpose was not to kill him. He pulled the stick down and f

I gripped the tip of the wooden armrest and jerked my hands up, taking the wood tied to my forearms. One of the three moved faster than the other. He threw his fist and aimed it at my face. It collided with the splintered armrest I used as protection. He groans, blood dripping from his left knuckles. Throwing his right fist, hoping to redeem his first failed attempt, I sliced my elbow in the air, still armed with the wood fracture. “Fucking bitch!” he hissed, shaking his bleeding hands. I freed one of my arms from the wood, watchful of his friends, as they shoved Bloody Knuckles to the side.

He takes back the file from me and I see a whole stack on a small table beside where the cop was sitting. "You going to tell me what you did or not?" Knuckles takes out a switch blade, he opens it with a flick of the wrist and the guy's eyes widen. "Because I can do this all night." He teases then he takes the small blade and starts cutting but the guy starts squealing like it's taking the life from him. I chuckle slightly and the guy scolds me when Knuckles stops. + "That hurts!" He says and I shake my head. "You're such a pussy." I whisper and he tries darting at me but the cuffs stop him and I arch a brow. "Give me something." I look back at Skinner.

I see his car starting to disappear into the distance. I cry out in pain , as soon as his car disappears. A stinging sensation erupts from my knuckles and flows it’s way all over my body – stopping at my heart ; the pain linking up. My fist stays against the wall – my punch did little to no damage to the wall. The wall was attacked but it was my knuckles that suffered the blow. Pulling my fist away from the wall , I stare at the blood that leaks from my knuckles. Red is pretty.

He screamed at me. I pouted. “Is that any way to talk to your host?” I set the bag down on the floor. It was too big to lay out on the table, and I wanted to see what Malachi was working with before. There were old pliers and hedge clippers. But all the rest were just typical tools that you would find in any toolbox. I picked up the brass knuckles and put one on each hand. “Those were dipped in wolf’s bane.” I heard Malachi through my earpiece.

But knowing that didn’t mean I’d just lie down and die. I let one of them land a punch—it didn’t do much, but it let me in close enough to grab him by the neck and slam my forehead into his, sending him crumpling to the floor. What I didn’t expect was searing pain in my back when the last one hit me. “Silver knuckle dusters,” he taunted as he hit me again, the spiked flares on the knuckles digging into my skin like a hot knife. “Perfect for monsters like you.”

One Striga down, only a couple hundred more to go. That first exorcism took so fucking long without silver bullets or holy water. Five more of the shrieking bloodsuckers are already spreading their wings on the inside of that jagged, ever widening hole in the door. I slip on a pair of cross-carved brass knuckles I kept tucked into my trench. Even with one messed up and seriously injured hand, I could hold my own against one, maybe two more of these freaks. Eight dozen is a different story. I jab my fist into a snarling face, knocking it aside, but a pair of claws drive into my shoulder blades before I can even finish off my target.