Mechamaru Without Bandages Novels & Stories

"Now that's more like it! Ahem, yeah, about the mech. First up, it needs a cape." "Fuck man, your mech already looks like a pimp, it just needs a cape to complete the ensemble. Trust me, it looks fucking great if your mech has a cape. It has to be red of course, or else it won't fit with the theme. Make it long and flowy, and don't think about using cheap fabric. If you need access to something fancy, I can refer you to a few friends I know."

Their mechas would begin taking significant damage if they continued to tank the damage this way. "Maybe we could try to communicate with-" Tatsuya's speech got cut off when Aimi drew the first blood. It stunned everyone and caused them to take some damage to their mecha. Only Naoko who had BaoBao as her backup continued unscathed. "It's not human, go all out!" Naoko and Aimi instructed at the same time and the boys obeyed without missing a beat. The dead body of the human that wore animal skin as clothes had morphed into a lanky grey-haired monkey with human proportions. Its wide open lifeless black beady eyes had no pupils and its open mouth revealed rows of teeth that resembled a shark's.

The Mykhol then was a far cry from what he was capable of now. He leaned back in his chair with the unstudied grace of someone born with control, stretching just enough for the stiff fabric of his tunic collar to shift and pull taut across his shoulders. The edge of the pristine white bandage peeked into view, stark against the black wool —deliberate as a battle flag planted on conquered ground. The bandage he wanted them to see. He knew what it looked like. Knew what they’d think. Something he didn’t even need.

I replied, setting the bowl down with a soft clink. He smirked. “You’re trembling.” “I’m not.” “You are.” I ignored him and dipped the gauze into the water. “Hold still.” He did, barely. The bandage ran diagonally across his ribs, clean but poorly secured. As I peeled back the tape, his breath hitched—subtle but there. The skin beneath was angry red, the edges raw where the adhesive had pulled. I worked slowly, carefully, forcing my hands to stay steady even as my pulse thundered.

The Biker dude finally turned to me and said. Then I noticed that apart from the masked guy's blood stain on him, he didn't seem to be bleeding or hurt despite taking a gun shot. Rather he unzipped his jacket, took it off and threw it into the trash can opposite him. His muscles flexed, the t-shirt he had underneath unable to contain his build. It threatened to rip off his body. I tried not to gawk as I stared at the tattoos that ran down his hands. A particular one on his arm caught my attention.

Argghhh" I punched the wall nonstop until my hand started to bleed, but iI don'tfeel nothing, it's like my whole body is numb. my heart my body is numb "I loved you... I do love you but why... why...." I took my phone out from my pocket and throw it on the wall, it crashed into million pieces instantly, I pull out the bracelet that Gun gave me earlier, I was about to throw it as well when I saw a piece of small paper sticking out from it, I opened it and read the letter " I'm sorry for everything, thank you" it was written there, I stared at the bracelet with " off gun" our name engraved on it.

All of their mouths were put into silence when I raised my hand. I've never been into combat but to wrestle with him made it sound interesting to me. Part of the rules was to remove the upper piece, so I enchanted my upper cloth into underwear in a snap. Shun can't lay eyes on me now and it made me want to entice him more! The armbands made me feel stronger. The sport truly screamed equality.

she descended the platform. The indicated packs’ main fighter, the substitutes and supports headed towards the ring. The main fighters were shirtless and wearing shorts and wristbands while substitutes wore transparent crop tops and loose pants along with their armbands. The supports wore white t-shirts and black joggers along with various coloured ribbons tied around their heads. Erion’s substitute fighter, a tall, slim and dark-skinned man with dyed golden, braided hair, was the first to go up.

By the time I headed back, the compound was lit with torches, the air thick with anticipation. Night fell, and I barely slept again, but this time it wasn’t fear keeping me up—it was something else, something restless and alive. When morning broke, the pack was in full motion. I dressed in simple gear—leather pants, a dark tunic—nothing fancy, but Mara showed up with a woven band of silver and black thread. “For your wrist,” she said, tying it on. “Tradition.” I flexed my hand, the band snug but not tight. “Thanks.”

She shouts furiously as she stands while clenching his fists. Rico suddenly opened his eyes as he felt a spark that awakens him. He seats in the bed and looks around as he looks at his hand and his whole body flamed up blue. “Rico?!” Maru said as he was shocked to see Rico flamed up in blue. “Blue flame?” Maru asks in confusion. Rico tear up the bandage around his body and watches his wound disappear slowly like smoke.