Albert Wesker Figure Mga Nobela at Kwento

The authorities were baffled, struggling to contain the sudden surge of violent incidents. Amidst the chaos, a figure emerged from the shadows, watching with dark satisfaction. His name was Viktor Kessler, a disgraced scientist with a vendetta against the werewolf packs that had exiled him years ago. Armed with his twisted creations, he intended to unleash chaos upon those who had shunned his brilliance.

He was wearing an open-buttoned white shirt and black pants. When he held me, his hand was strong, but he tried to be gentle. From his grip and his massive body, I could swear he was definitely an Alpha, not just an ordinary werewolf. I was about to speak and tell him I wasn't her, but my hot body stopped me. The man leaned in, planting scattered kisses on my neck, whispering with admiration, "Soft as a baby." "Leave me!" I pleaded, desperate for him to let me go. "Are you still angry?" he asked, puzzled.

Alexei Volkov stood in the exact center of the open space, leaning heavily on custom black forearm crutches. The right leg of his tailored trousers was pinned neatly above the knee; the left ended in a gleaming carbon-fiber prosthetic that clicked faintly every time he shifted weight. His lips curled in a rictus of anger as he reached the center of the warehouse. Two containers stood open in front of him. Inside the first: ceramic-composite body armor plates still in their factory wrapping. Inside the second: the micro-drone guidance modules, matte black, sleek, each one worth more than most men made in a decade. The rest of the haul, conflict diamonds reset into antique settings, waited in

Xavier made a strong claim. When I heard this, I gave up and signed my name. "...Tell me then, what happened to Wesley? I've already told you that I think Albert is the one who fought Jaxson and took Wesley." Xavier thought about what was on his back for a moment before taking it. "What is it?" I asked Xavier when he gave him the thing. "I found this where Jaxson fought," Xavier said as he looked at me with a serious face. Before I looked at the knife Xavier gave me, I looked at him. When I saw the blade, I thought back to the night I ran away from the castle. Albert is playing with the knife with a smile on his face... On the handle of the knife was a picture of a skull.

But in workout gear, it’s a game of where’s skin. He’s got this incredible realistic grayscale full sleeve piece on his right arm of a mountainscape of a wolf pup sitting on a lake looking at the rippled reflection of a full-grown wolf. His legs are grayscale realistic mythology scenes featuring, you guessed it, wolves. His left sleeve is different, still grayscale, but it’s a Nightmare Before Christmas sleeve. And his back dude has a full-color Japanese Godzilla piece. And lastly, his chest piece is this grayscale twisted grove of branches that comes together to look like a guitar with a raven on the perched wings spread wide on the top.

A figure sat in a throne of jagged obsidian and silver wire, surrounded by flickering holographic screens showing the destruction of distant star systems. ​The figure stood. He was tall, gaunt, and wore a suit of "Pre-Exodus" flight-armor that looked like it had been through a thousand suns. When he stepped into the light, Nora let out a stifled scream. ​He looked exactly like Kael. But it was Kael as a ghost—his skin a translucent marble-white, his eyes entirely black, and his hair a shock of silver-wire.

I shouted. Only for ice to wash through me. The air disappeared from my lungs and I felt about two inches tall as I found myself staring directly into the grey eyes of Alpha Cassian Varrick. Cassian was a massive Alpha, with the body of a professional wrestler—probably because he spent most of his time wrestling other men, in wolf and human form. His sleek black hair was oiled back from his face today, and he wore a pair of jeans and nothing else. It showed off both full-sleeve tattoos and the others that trailed over his chest and torso.

On the same side where pack emblems are stitched, Madfur’s double slanting crescents led by an astra. Differently simple attire, Zaetron Cole Alderhaw of Nightshade pack remains smoking hot on his deep charcoal turtle neck inner, matched with auburn vest, and lastly, a melanoid suit. His long red-tinted hair was tied up and his trimmed facial hair, all adds up to his drop-dead appearance. “Are we not starting yet?” Keith whispered to his dad’s ears. Zaetron draw an inch away from him and looked him straight to his eyes. “Not until all the Alphas arrive,” he answered.

Dante tackled me to the ground. From the rooftops across the street, a figure stepped into the light of a burning oil drum. It was Kaelen Voss. He was dressed in a scavenged Alpha-uniform, his emerald eyes burning with a localized, artificial frequency. He was holding a Long-Range "Null-Rifle."

"He will show." "Or he won't," Rebecca said quietly. "Because this is another layer. Another distraction." Before I could respond, the warehouse lights blazed on. Blinding. Disorienting. When my vision cleared, a figure stood in the center of the space. But not X. Not anyone we expected. Derek. Albert's dead brother. Who we buried three months ago. Standing there like resurrection, covered in surgical scars and cybernetic enhancements less advanced than Alpha's but still substantial.