Rouge X Knuckles Novels & Stories

As three rogues lunged at him, their black claws aiming for his throat and chest, he simply tilted his body slightly. Thud! A single blow from Xavier’s elbow caught the lead rogue square in the solar plexus, sending the creature flying until it slammed into a tree trunk behind it. The sound of snapping ribs echoed clearly, sharply piercing the silence of the night. The other two tried to flank him from both sides. However, in the blink of an eye, Xavier’s hands moved like lightning. He caught both of them by the throat mid-air, halting their momentum with an impossible display of strength.

I raised my right fist again, raining a series of heavy, systematic punches down onto the back of the hand the clerk still had wrapped around the knife's handle. I hit him repeatedly, targeting the fragile network of joints and small bones in his wrist and knuckles. Crack. Crack. Crack. I didn't stop until I felt the structural integrity of his wrist completely give way beneath my knuckles. The joints shifted unnaturally, the bones dislocating completely under the relentless pressure of my fists.

Xander's hand was large and attractive, the fingers long and well-proportioned, knuckles prominent. Perhaps it was the force he used, but the veins on the back of his hand were noticeable, adding a hint of ferocity. Abigail withdrew her own hand, resuming her seat. "Mr. Zane, what would you like to chat about?"

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 sighed and I could feel my wolf push to the surface, enough to have control, but not enough for Link to be able to tell that she was there. "Oh, Ellie, there is no mistake. I am going to kill you and I am going to enjoy it," he chuckled and with that his fist collided with the cut on my side and his foot was behind my knee, dragging me to the floor before I could even beg for my life. I was pretty sure there was a crack as I landed and I had shattered my kneecap but the adrenaline was preventing any pain from actually reaching my brain at this moment in time. I then felt his powerful kick as he forced his foot into my stomach, winding me a little and really not helping with my breathing.

"We've already known each other." "The name's Xanthus Osteen. Let's get our first meeting right." Xanthus stretched out his hand towards her. His finger joints were well-defined, and there was a faint pink in the palm of his hand and the inner side of his fingers. For a moment, a thought flitted across Cynthia's mind. "Maybe that's how doctors' hands look like."

She lands low to the ground with her right hand out behind her summoning recreation to her hand then waits to see the aftermath) Xanne: Okay, karma knocking literally. (Taking the time to calmly stand up and dust himself off, he quickly realizes his hand is broken with his middle finger being shifted.) Mmm. That's new. So she can do more damage when I deserve it. Scary. (Realizing he is in combat he goes to stomp down on her as she throws a kick simultaneously landing her foot under his ankle)

Robert howls in agony and rage. Harrison climbs off him and taunts him to continue, to land a blow if he can. Robert rushes towards him, throwing punches with his one good arm. Harrison ducks and spins low on his toes, then positions himself to kick out against Robert’s knee. Snapping his knee joint. Robert hits the floor and screams out. Harrison seizes the opportunity to dislocate each of Robert’s toes and then breaks his ankle. He’s inflicting as much pain as he can with his hands.

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.

The pad of Gunner's thumb was wide and rough. Rough in the specific way that came from years of gripping a stick and throwing punches, calloused and broad, and entirely unlike the careful softness Khyle might have expected from someone tending to an injury. It scraped, just barely, against the small split skin of his lip, a contrast so stark between the size of the touch and the size of what it was touching that Khyle's whole body seemed to recalibrate around it.