[i]The Marshal spun his plasma revolver around his fingers in a display of complete control over his firearm, before he swiftly thrust the firearm back into the duster he wore. His right hand folded back and into his sleeve, before the steel plates and carbon fibre skin embraced his wrist, and wrapped around the entire thing. From in the hole where the wrist is, a single blade of pure steel extends proudly and reaches a fair two and a half feet, before the wrist closes around it and solidifies it into place. [/i]