"There was a puddle of scarlet around him, and Ellison choked when he saw the wound: the flesh had been torn from biceps to wrist, nearly pulled away from the bone. By all rights, Corby should have been screaming or passed out, but he wasn't either: he was just sitting there, quietly staring at the hideous gash in his arm as though he was watching a documentary. White bone gleamed in the fluorescent lights — but it wasn't the only thing gleaming.
Shining filaments, like mucus or tendon, drew quickly from one jagged end of the wound to the other. There were hundreds — within seconds, thousands of them. They threaded among one another like a spiderweb spinning itself, drawing into a tighter and tighter weave. Then they tensed, and the wound drew shut. The blood on his uniform, on the floor, it all quivered, then slithered back into the seam. There was a shimmer, and then one last twitch. The wound was gone."
Shining filaments, like mucus or tendon, drew quickly from one jagged end of the wound to the other. There were hundreds — within seconds, thousands of them. They threaded among one another like a spiderweb spinning itself, drawing into a tighter and tighter weave. Then they tensed, and the wound drew shut. The blood on his uniform, on the floor, it all quivered, then slithered back into the seam. There was a shimmer, and then one last twitch. The wound was gone."
— Werewolf: The Apocalypse — Book Of The Weaver
"Don't worry, it'll grow back."
— Augment, Chiasmata
Faethor held up his hand. The severed member was shrinking back into him, pseudoflesh melting into his flesh. The cancerous colours went out of it; it assumed a more normal shape; the old fingernail fell to the floor, and right in front of Thibor's eyes a new, pink shell began to form.
"Well then, my hero son who came here to kill me." Faethor slowly stood up and held out his hand toward Thibor's bloodless face. "And could you have killed this?"
"Well then, my hero son who came here to kill me." Faethor slowly stood up and held out his hand toward Thibor's bloodless face. "And could you have killed this?"
— Necroscope II: Wamphyri
Pierce: It's just, whatever I do, I just... re-grow.
Lucifer: Huh. Like a blue-eyed, square-jawed tapeworm. So, if I cut you exactly in half, would there be two Pierces?
Pierce: No. Only one side would heal. You see, I — [grins] I call it the "master molecule theory"—
Lucifer: Yes, yes, Wolverine rules, I get it.
Lucifer: Huh. Like a blue-eyed, square-jawed tapeworm. So, if I cut you exactly in half, would there be two Pierces?
Pierce: No. Only one side would heal. You see, I — [grins] I call it the "master molecule theory"—
Lucifer: Yes, yes, Wolverine rules, I get it.
Cell: Do you... know how long it's going to take... to regrow my tail?
Android 16: PARDON ME—?
Cell: Bip. [new tail bursts out of the stump] Thanks to Uncle Piccolo's cells, an ultimately fruitless effort. But if it's any consolation, that hurt like hell.
Android 16: PARDON ME—?
Cell: Bip. [new tail bursts out of the stump] Thanks to Uncle Piccolo's cells, an ultimately fruitless effort. But if it's any consolation, that hurt like hell.
"Heck of a thing, ain't it? Sure as shit beats the hell out of dyin'."
— Jack Baker, Resident Evil 7: Biohazard
Would it have helped the dead archer to know that a kung in a fighting rage was practically awash with regenerative enzymes? It had been hard enough for earthmen to see kung fight on with their flesh healing like boiling wax.
— Strata
Melissa: Your scrapes are fading. Fast healing?
Cheerleadra: Maybe? I came with a confusing user manual.
Cheerleadra: Maybe? I came with a confusing user manual.
