Drawing of a black, grey and gold biomechanical design with gears, springs and pipes showing through torn skin, shown on a white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Biomechanical arm design with torn skin

Mixed · Flash

The drawing shows a vertical design of mechanical parts, including gears, a bolt, coiled springs, pipes and a chain, emerging through ripped skin edges. The linework is detailed and the forms are shaded with strong highlights and deep blacks, with metallic grey tones. Muted gold and small touches of green sit on the central mechanism against a plain white background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You find Marcus Dell by the tuck shop hatch, which has been bolted shut since the year you left, turning a brass cog over in his palm as if it might still be warm. Nobody else in the hall has noticed him. The reunion is all lanyards and name badges, a DJ playing the songs you once pretended to hate, and a buffet of cocktail sausages going limp under cling film.

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He was the lad who took the metalwork lathe apart in Year Ten and put it back together with three parts left over. Everyone assumed he'd end up fixing tractors outside Rotherham. Instead he tells you, between mouthfuls of crisps, that he runs a foundry near Sheffield casting gears for steam museums and the odd film prop. "Anyone can keep a clean face," he says. "It's what's underneath that people come to ask about."

You remember the drawing he made in the back of the register, a machine tearing its own skin open to get at the coiled springs and the chain, all of it grey and gold. Mr Pryce confiscated it and never gave it back. You ask if he still has it. He shrugs and says he has something better, and pulls out a small oiled bolt he has carried for a decade, the one that went missing from the workshop the day you were both sent home.

The lights dim for the speeches. Above the stage the old school clock, stopped for as long as anyone can remember, gives a dry jolt and starts to tick. Marcus sets the brass cog down beside your plate. It turns once, catches the light, and the hall falls quiet enough to hear every tooth of it click into place.

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