روايات وقصص ضمن Round Fingers Under Military Uniforms

It’s a good thing she was able to mooch some sunscreen from Yssy, who had come prepared with a year’s supply. Still, if Kate had to choose between having unevenly toasted arms and slowly boiling in a sauna of fatigues, complete with black beret and gloves, she would rather be a zebra of tan lines. Wearing Type A uniform or full-on parade gear also means they’d be doing rifle drills and swinging the 9-pound M1 Garand replica drill rifles around their bodies. Colonel Anders starts the cadence for “Somewhere There’s a Mother”: | Somewhere there’s a mother

He crouches in front of me, knitting his fingers together while resting his elbows on his knees. “Your uniform looks stupid,” I grumble. “I’ve been told women love men in uniform.” “You look like an underfed dragon.” It’s true, in my defense. Black, thick fabric envelopes him from his neck to the tips of his toes–every inch of him covered in strange scales of a depthless onyx. Leather armor covers his chest, forearms, and thighs. It hugs them like a glove, which makes sense, given that all of this is possible because of a pair of black gloves.

It was definitely human–at least I thought so. Maybe not a vampire or werewolf, but most definitely human. It stood about six feet tall, had a strong masculine build, wore clothes that looked somewhat similar to a uniform for some kind of military. And he was wearing gloves or rather what looked like gloves. They were dark gray, with red stripes running along the edge. The gloves extended above his knuckles all the way to his elbows. His hands, which looked like hands covered in scales, ended in thick leather gloves, and on each finger was a pair of metal claws. The whole thing reminded me of a reptile. It also looked very cold.

I did not have to worry about feeding, the manor helps would bring us four filling meals a day, consisting of various foods I had never seen before. When I would sit down with my fellow recruits to eat, the thought of Mr. Rae always crossed my mind. I wished he was doing well and I wanted to visit but recruits were not allowed breaks while they were still in training, so I had to wait. I continued to wear my leather gloves, even while training. Everyone had noticed and began asking questions, but I had lied saying I had painful scars on my hands from birth that I needed to protect, ever since no one had questioned me.

Riley separated himself from James and chose the southern area to train. Meanwhile, James chose the northern area as if the two people were on opposite sides. When practicing, the prospective soldiers wear short-sleeved shirts and lightweight pants that allow them to move freely. However, when the fight began, they would change costumes according to their branch. For unarmed free martial arts, they would wear additional armor. Riley had already started stretching his muscles and started doing less extreme movements to maintain his energy.

Angelo did. And then I noticed it…The sleeves. “They’re wrong,” I said. He frowned. “What?” “The uniform.” I pointed at the screen. “Look at the cuffs.” All the kitchen staff wore short sleeves. This person didn’t. He wore long sleeves that were pulled down and tight at the wrists, therefore covering the skin completely. Angelo’s expression shifted. “He’s wearing gloves too. Thin black gloves that would go unnoticed against his shadow.” This person was not a cook. The cooks of this estate didn’t dress like that.

All having an intimidating presence and power in abundance. They were on their military uniform made of khaki fabric, and army coloured leather military boots. They standing at an attention,with their chest puffed out. One could actually see their six packs and their muscles gathered for protruding fullness. Some had tattoo covering their hands while some didn't. Salute!!! The ten men raised their left legs in unison and they marched it into the floor. The sound of boots marching the floor at the same time produced a particular auditory effect produced by a thunder, except for that the intensity of the latter was more.

He then stretched out his hand to point at the right hand of this corpse. The corpse’s right hand was curled into a tight fist. Surprisingly, the knuckles on this corpse’s right hand were thick and huge for unknown reasons—two to three times thicker than the bones of a normal person’s fingers. They were so thick that Fane could not see what this person held so tightly in his hands, despite zoning in.

I looked at our battle uniform or battledress as the student calls it. It was a black regal vest. Underneath it was a white long sleeve and a white leather trouser with black boots. We also have this white coat blazer with gold linings with a touch of red lines. We are like military commanders who are a bit fancy and are ready to try the war.

It was a uniform. There was a tunic of thick, dark-grey wool, almost black, with a high, severe collar. It was simple, functional, and strong. It was the kind of thing a warrior wore under their armor. There were trousers, black and made of a tough, durable-looking fabric. There were boots. Black, leather, practical, with a low, solid heel. And underneath it all, a set of fresh, clean linen bandages. The message was so clear, it was like he'd shouted it.