Merchandise!

The transformation into a machine has had its benefits. Stress and other weaknesses of the flesh have been taken care of but the operation left his mind in a worse state, leaving it looking reminiscent of a tortured genius.

With the constant contracts to where he risks literal life and limb is giving him a good flashback to when he crawled through hell and fought in the war, having survived turmoil and pain as he was handee many bad cards in his time to tortured, stabbing, shot, and various near death situations he believes pain is more of a friend than and enemy and embraces it to fuel his goals. Using items of his past to constantly remind of the pain and what of it.

At one time, Amaryllis's arms were normal, unscarred, and white as a dove. She would wrestle with her brothers, surrounded by soft and fluffy couches, plug protected outlets, and edge protected tables. They were safe, mostly, until one gave another a shallow scratch with their fingernail. From even a single scrape, the children would ruin rugs and throw pillows as the Fleischer Family Curse took its toll, forcing them to make a sizable plasma donation to the house. They all knew the risks, of course, they had the band-aids and medical bandages on hand to stop the bleeding. They continued their roughhousing beyond earshot of their parents...

Amaryllis's mother, Dahlia, knew the truth of their family's curse. She understood that time was running short as Sorin had already passed away years before. She and her husband studied the occult, making a fortune by reading futures, holding seances, and investigating hauntings. The greatest ritual they ever developed was one to break their curse. She knew Amaryllis, the first-born, would need to be saved first, as soon as possible, before she followed Death to meet her husband.

Something was not right, Amaryllis had passed out early in the bloodletting phase of the ritual. She struggled against her bindings and exasperated the new cuts on her wrists. The long gashes and otherworldly lettering on her arms wept until they went blue. Dahlia completed the runes and smeared a circle in blood around her daughter before realizing that the ritual was faulty. She then realized that her baby girl was on Death's door. She rushed Amaryllis to the hospital in heavy bandages, but her body would refuse to close her wounds. Dahlia would die a year later, consumed by the knowledge that the ritual failed.

She was wrong.

Michael is an expert soldier, able to shrug off pain and distraction without a thought, but is unfortunately not great at distinguishing friend from foe.

The mobster's been through tougher scrapes than this. A few cuts and bruises won't stop them.