Novel & Cerita Metal Knuckles

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.”

Orion's POV Leon handed me a pair of brass knuckles without a word, his face expressionless as he placed the cold metal in my palm. I looked down at them for a moment—heavy and solid, the metal gleaming dully in the warehouse's dim lighting. Then I slipped them onto my right hand, flexing my fingers to get used to the weight. The brass knuckles fit perfectly, like they'd been made for this exact purpose. Like they'd been waiting for this moment.

Huge like a mountain and wide like a fucking bulldozer. Tattoos crawl up the side of his neck, his arms, all the way down to his knuckles sporting fat gold rings. I can tell in an instant his jewelry isn’t a fashion statement. These rings are meant to hurt. In lieu of brass knuckles, they’d be a perfect substitute. The third guy is by far the most impressively dressed. Modest silver cufflinks, his hair swept back. His smile is warm and charming, but the wicked glint in his eyes warns me not to be fooled. He reminds me of Uncle Craig, charismatic and bold—deceptively so.

"And if it's not you guys, then who? Even Ridge can't figure out, and he's... Ridge." Knuckles rolls his eyes, a move that doesn't match his large bulky body. "It's not us, little miss," he says popping the shoulder out a minute against the doorframe. "We have our own issues going on right now and don't have time to get involved in the crap happening out there." Interesting. What issues would the club have that don't involve drugs but involves ninja throwing stars? I'm about to ask, but at that exact moment Knuckles waves his gun in the air, which has never indicated a friendly sign. He steps away from the doorway, not caring about the shiny metal device that could misfire and take one of us

He wasn’t winded though, because he followed up with a barrage of jabs that quickly let me know that he’d gone through training of some kind. But this wasn’t even the worst part of it all. The bastard had on a pair of identical brass knuckles, which told me that he wasn’t taking any chances with me—one blow from those and I’d break something. “You’re not going to go easy on me?” I asked breathlessly, dodging his attacks while trying to keep both of the other men in my line of vision lest I make the mistake of letting them flank me. “I’m only a girl.” I was only half-joking, and the man smirked, his eyes glinting with a sick mischief that told me he was enjoying it.

"You have chosen the time and the place of this parlay, so it is only fair to allow me the choice of weapons." "Out of respect for your personal courage, I will agree. How do you wish to perish?" Ajax nodded. I presented my 'secret weapon' - a bag of knucklebones. "You are wagering your life on a game?" Ajax scoffed. "As opposed to a whole series of martial contests I have no chance at? Yeah, I'm staking my life on my hand-eye coordination," I grinned. Knucklebones is the granddaddy of modern day Jacks and was played at the time of the Trojan Wars.

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ Sweat dripped into my eye, but I didn’t blink. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room. Just bare knuckles wrapped in old tape, no gloves, no mouth guards, just pain and a fucked-up kind of therapy. Vincenzo’s knuckles cracked against my jaw again, and I tasted copper, fuck, he always hit like a truck. I spat blood to the side and stepped back into him, shoulder-first, slamming into his chest to knock him off balance.

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..."

He didn't need to. The keep felt smaller that day. Narrower. Every corridor thrummed with the sound of hammers striking old iron, boots pacing over stone. The hall outside the old armory was stacked chest-high with crates , scraps of salvaged chainmail, scavenged pikes with splintered shafts, arrows fletched with mismatched feathers. Kieran pushed the door open and found Cassius hunched over a battered table, a piece of pig's skin stretched before him like parchment. Beside him, Elric was stripping down an old crossbow, the bowstring fraying between his fingers.

This aura… why does it feel familiar, like I know who it belongs to? A 6ft 3 man with silver hair fashioned into a Mohawk wearing gold earrings walked to meet Kronos in the center of the arena. Kronos gasped when he saw him. Zorvun’s Beard! He looks just like me! He wore a bronze breastplate made from many layers of smaller metal pieces, mimicking the scales of a dragon. It covered everything from the neck down. The upper arms were protected by pointed, half covering rerebraces which sat well under the shoulderplates. The lower arms were covered by vambraces which had a dragon shaped metal ornament piece on each outer side. The upper legs were covered by rounded, half covering cuisses. The