Mechamaru Without Bandages Novels & Stories

he suddenly says as he nods at the bandage on my shoulder. Oh? I turn my head ever-so-slightly, my gaze falling to the bandage. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Marcel reach toward me, prompting me to jolt involuntarily. He doesn’t hesitate, taking the corner of the tape with his unoccupied hand before carefully peeling it off. A stoic look plays on his face as he sets the clean bandage down on the small coffee table positioned against the wall at his arm’s reach. His gaze never leaves me, and he points out, his voice sincere, “It’s looking a lot better.”

Making my way to my room, I slipped into my black tactical shirt, pants, boots and gloves readying to head out to what me and the guys called the maze. Sending a text to Papa and Madre that I was leaving and to let Val know, I jumped into my Subaru WRX and took to the wild terrain of my back yard. The bumps and dips toggled me and loosened up my body so that I could enjoy the hunt. I grabbed my walkie and let out a howl, waiting for a signal to go at any moment. "The motherfūcker is back! You're clear to enter into the game Claymore." The nickname given to me by my brothers in arms was code for battle. I clipped the walkie to my Molle webbed belt and picked up my knives sliding them into the

"We need to alert his guards so they can come collect his body." No. That's accepting he's gone. Ignoring Marek's persistent hands, I run my own across Tai, feeling for something, anything like a sign of life. His skin is turning cold, as I pull the sleeves of his tunic up, trying to search for a pulse. Strangely, the silver band he had only recently fixed after his father destroyed it is broken again, cracked right through to the point it's barely clinging to his skin. I tug it off, wincing as it lightly burns the surface of my skin.

I saw him turning my body slightly with his webbed claws so that the bandaged wound on my waist was facing him. He raised his sharp webbed claws and carefully tried to untie the bandage wrapped around my abdomen. His frown deepened. He was obviously impatient with the bandages. As he was afraid of hurting me, he carefully hooked the edge of the bandage with his blade-like webbed claws. The transparent membrane in between the five fingers of a merman’s web claw made it extra challenging to do this. But he seemed to be afraid of causing me the slightest pain. A puzzled yet serious look appeared on his face, like a mathematician trying to solve an equation.

They'll be going for your core, so duck and take out the feet. You did this a lot. Meira's eyes lit up at the sight of the new clothes coming our way. I looked them over as Pagomaris held up what looked like a one-piece red pantsuit. Yes, it had some kind of crystals stuck all over it, but at least it seemed I could move in it. I sighed and nodded to her, bringing a smile back to the aide's face. I did, Sassy sent. But remember, I was a champion. It's likely my methods have been studied and incorporated into current fighting techniques.

A faint knock could be heard, and I snapped out of my thoughts, waiting for the soul who wants to see me. The door creaked open, and a man wrapped with bandages on his arms, head, and chest walked in. He wore a T-shirt with baggy shorts, like he had plans for a vacation. “How are you doing, Marcus?” He coughed a bit, his voice a thin shadow of what it used to be. It turned out the attacker had hit a slight part of his vocal folds unknown to him, and it would take a pretty long time to heal. “I am recovering quite well.” He tried to smile, biting back the blood that slowly seeped out.

Was he talking to some of his people about something and then forgot he was supposed to be talking to the whole pack? That’s when I finally see the first signs of him. My eyes widen as I notice him limping his way over to the middle of the stage. He has bandages covering his right arm, too. Whatever issue he had gone to take care of must have been a skirmish, and he didn’t come out of it unharmed.

Works for me. Dan stands up slowly, and begins carefully removing the bandages from his arms and legs. The skin has completely healed everywhere. There is no evidence of the attack anywhere on his body. Not even a hint of a scar. It’s as if the attack never happened.

Not a mangled one. Once I finished with the middle, I cleaned it up a bit before I did some quick stitches on the others. They were nowhere near as bad but the deepest parts wouldn’t heal correctly if left on their own. Doing one more thorough cleaning job, I replaced the bandages and with some tape to keep it in place. He settled back into the chase but I was impressed that he hadn’t passed out. Despite his size, the Gamma’s mettle was obvious. I looked down at my hands. They were fairly clean but the rest of me was covered in blood. As thought I had painted myself in war paint. Smiling, I made fists and watches as the shadows oozed from between my fingertips. The power I felt was delicious

Seated heavily on a stone bench near the lower combat yard. Shirtless. Wounded. My breath caught so violently it physically hurt. For one suspended moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could only stare. Blood stained the bandages wrapped around his ribs and chest, crimson soaking through white cloth in unsettling patches. Deep bruises marred his broad chest, his powerful shoulders lined with fresh cuts, claw marks, and visible swelling. One arm was tightly bound, dried blood trailing down toward his wrist. It seemed strange for him since his pack has always healed fast of wounds.