Armored Vault 13 Jumpsuit Novels & Stories

“My mother didn’t create me from scratch. She resurrected pieces of minds that had once existed. Great thinkers. Warriors. Philosophers. She built us out of legends.” Julian ran a hand through his hair. “You’re saying you’re not just human and machine, you’re part myth?” “Not metaphorically,” she said. “Literally.” She tapped a file. SUBJECT ALPHA-000: THE FLAME. Status: UNKNOWN. Locked in Vault XIII. Julian leaned closer. “Vault XIII? Where’s that?” Alma’s hand hovered over the screen. “This facility has thirteen underground vaults. I never knew what was in the last one.”

She didn't believe he would keep that old thing. He laughs at her and gets dressed, it was a black garb that exposed the arms and the mid section, the chest was plated with amour and there were gauntlets.to where to protect the lower arm. He slides his mask on and his pants are sticking to his body like glue. They were placed a bit under his waist and she was able to see the drool worthy 'V' he had around his torso.

My arms held out as a silent Null attendant tightened the straps across my chest. Snap. The buckle dug into my ribs. "Too tight," I gasped. "It needs to be tight," Barzil's voice rumbled from behind me. "Loose gear catches on debris. If you get snagged in the Foundry, you die." He walked around me. Inspecting the fit with a critical eye. He was already fully armored—a mountain of black steel and red cape. He looked terrifying. He looked like the monster the mothers in the Dregs used to frighten their children into silence.

Azrael’s eyes widened while staring at me. “Alice! What kind of battle attire is that?! It’s too revealing!” he said, and I saw his ears beet red. Val and I chuckled. I was wearing a half armored attire showing my cleavage, my curves and half of my legs. My blue and white armor suit fits comfortably in my body and it feels nostalgic. It’s been a long time since I wore my armor. I have a blue cape that reaches my knees, and long armored white boots that cover above my knees.

However, on the night of my 18th birthday, the first crack started to form in my carefully-crafted armor. I'd just gotten off work from the graveyard shift and was on my way back to my dormitory when I ran into a group of drunk street thugs. Just as they were about to force me to my wits' end, Vernon suddenly appeared out of nowhere. After chasing off the thugs, he gathered me in his arms even though my knee was bleeding from earlier. His hug threw me completely off guard. It felt like the strange yet familiar warmth of a father's hug—big, strong, and safe.

Valeria “Can you move?” Grimm asks. “Barely.” I squirm in the middle of the line, trying to unstick the leather clothes from my skin. The Firing Armada’s uniform—padded black leather pants and a long‑sleeved shirt made for those of us who don’t shift. Meant to blunt incoming damage. My hair is pulled into a slick bun, everything forced into place. “My balls can’t breathe,” Grimm whispers, tugging at the leather around his crotch.

My brows knitted in the middle. Jared shrugged, reaching under the counter, producing a long rectangular box secured by a huge black ribbon. “I have a plan, and that includes pleasing our billionaire alpha friend, Seth Hawkins.” He opened the box, and inside lay the most hideous suit I had ever seen. It was white with blue and silver embellishments shimmering under the overhead lights. Grinning like a cheshire cat, Jared pulled out a knee-high boots and a fucking sword. “No. Abso-fucking-lutely not!”

Attached to the end were four high-grade assault rifles and two heavy suits of tactical body armor. "I've hacked the rig's automated defenses," the Ghost said. "You have a five-minute window to board before they reboot. Move." Leo grabbed one of the rifles, checking the chamber. He handed the other to Silas. Silas winced as he took it, his shoulder screaming, but his grip was steady. "Armor," Silas said. They strapped on the kevlar vests. It was bulky, heavy, but it made them look like soldiers. Leo helped Silas tighten the straps, his hands lingering on Silas’s chest.

I get up, my body strangely light, my mind razor-sharp. The ritual of armoring begins anew, today more important than ever. This morning, it's a skirt suit, classic, more intimidating. A straight jacket of black wool, without a single crease, over a pencil skirt of the same color, ending just above the knee. The blouse is off-white, severe. The pumps, black with stiletto heels, click on the bedroom parquet with a sound that sets the tempo of my resolve. Each garment is a layer of invisible Kevlar. Each gesture the fastening of the thin belt, the clip in the hair pulled back smoothly into a knot is a bolt sliding into place. I must be perfect. Impenetrable. The CEO. Nothing else. The morning

(Briana POV) “I’d like to get to know your people a little before they know who I am. I don’t want them acting differently around me just because I’m the future Luna. I want to join them in drills so I can see how they fight.” An hour later I’ve had breakfast and I’m wearing what has to be the costliest items I’ve ever donned in my life. The leather pants are buttery soft against my skin. Key areas are reinforced with some type of steel mesh, which is unexpectedly comfortable to move in. The form fitting shirt is made of the same fabric, the armor covering the chest, back and stomach.