Armored Squadron Novels & Stories

LAYLA STARED AT the red vehicle while her heart was starting to beat erratically. No, she shook her head with a realization, she was just being paranoid. It was obviously a different and bigger car. She still was looking at the car when a woman and a boy—probably mother and child—approached the car. The backseat door opened and the two climbed inside the car. Layla watched the car moved away before she continued walking. She went to the gate, showed her ID and strolled inside. She had been working here, one of the largest TV networks in the country, for more than two years now. The tallest building in the compound had ten floors and on its highest floor, at the north side of the building, yo

With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I maneuvered the armored car with skill and precision. The truck behind started to shoot out missiles which whizzed perilously close, but I swerved with ease, narrowly avoiding the explosive impact. “Nice,” said Mateo as I shifted the gear and kept on running. The car's reinforced frame and heavy armor absorbed the shock, protecting us from the worst of the onslaught, but this didn’t stop enemies from coming after us. They were biding their time. This wasn’t their first rodeo but it would definitely be their last.

She turns to me, "Let's get ready, Lorenzo. The war has started already." I nod my head and walk fastly to the warrior squad den. I pull my robe over my hips, awkwardly cooling down my excitement. There will be plenty of chances to making love, but for now, we have to win in the war. "Alpha Lorenzo," the Commander of the squad hands me an armor and necessary equipments. I admire noticing his bulky figure, no wonder that he's immensely powerful. I also appreciate the fact that he doesn't disrespect me or anything, despite me being from another pack.

Spray exploded into the air as the two hulls slammed together with a hollow crunch. "Good hit!" Brecken yelled over the noise. "There's four men on the third boat!" Cade yelled back, slamming a fresh magazine into his rifle. "They have heavy armor! They aren't Tribunal, Brecken. Look at the gear!" Brecken leaned over the rail. The third speedboat was cutting through our wake, pulling up directly alongside our left flank. The men onboard wore slick, black tactical suits with no badges, no logos, and no council seals. They were private mercenaries.

Military grade. Through the curtain of rain, three figures materialized from the pine line above them. They didn't wear the standard leather armor of border guards; they wore the heavy, matte-black plate of Alaric's elite hunters, their helmets stylized to look like eyeless wolves. They moved with an unsettling speed that defied the treacherous mud underfoot. "Vanguard!" Marcus called out through the mind-link, his voice a jagged wave of authority. "Form up on the eastern ledge! Break their line!"

"But they are coming for a world that is no longer prey. You are the Shield! You are the Architect! Stand your ground!" On the ground, the war began before the first star could blink. Nevan stood at the head of the "Iron Vanguard"—a legion of human soldiers I had spent three years training in the shadows. They didn't have high-tech exoskeletons. They had armor forged from the scrap of the old world, etched with Leo’s silver-wire runes. They carried blades that hummed with the "Quiet." The sky above Moscow tore open.

Beside him stood Lyra, in dark leather armor, the crest of the Sun-Marked on her sleeve pulsing with a brilliant white-gold radiance that lit the shadowed battlements, a beacon of hope. "The defense's shield won't hold up to a sustained salvo from three capital-class dreadnoughts! Beta Marcus ducked behind a stone merlon, his hand clenched on his shadow-forged broadsword, and roared above the deaf thunder of the artillery. "Their black-silver shells are eating through our runic anchors!" "Then we stop playing defense," Caelum rumbled, his deep voice carrying over the roaring storm with low, terrifying authority.

I said, reaching up to touch the dark circles under his eyes. "I was running drills with Echo Squad," he said. "The new stealth armor from the lab is... finicky. The seals leak if you submerge past twenty feet." "Did you fix it?" "Mara fixed it. I just broke it in the first place to find the flaw." He offered a small, crooked smile, the first one I’d seen in days. "We're ready, Elara. The Legion is ready." I looked out the reinforced glass of the bridge. Outside, the Ghost Isle was living up to its name. A wall of fog churned against the atmospheric shield we had erected. Inside the shield, it was dry, illuminated by the harsh industrial floodlights of the base.

said the GRD-class. “That's enough. Now Squad 44 PRD-class, RTH-class, SLT-class, and ENV-class, I’ll leave the close ranged battle to you.” Said Cornelio. “Yes, Sir!!” said them. “…! As you know, I’m younger than you guys.” Said Cornelio. “I can’t believe if younger Herrscher than me is better my self.” Said the PRD-class. “No matter how is your age, we are here under your command.” Said the RTH-class.

They all only took their standard armor, having had years to work out the kinks of fighting in them exactly like this. “Are you guys not going to put on more?” Steve asked as he walked up to them. He was in full armor, bullet proof vest, shoulder, knee, and elbow pads, and some thick leather gloves. He even had one of the very few visored helmets. It wasn’t something made by the rebellion, but found in the city. “We’ve spent years like this. Countless missions, from scouting to full on attacks.” Chriso told him with a lopsided grin. He, like the rest of his squad, only sported a bullet proof vest, pads for the knees and elbows, and thick gloves.