Avatar Mech Suits Novels & Stories

The sound traveled through the floor before it reached my ears. A figure stepped into the pale, strobing light of the emergency strips. It was Lugal Nergal. But he was not the man in crimson robes. He was encased in an exoskeleton of matte-black alloy. The suit hummed—a low, subsonic frequency that triggered an immediate wave of nausea in my gut. My vision blurred. The corners of my eyes twitched. It was Pre-Fracture tech, designed for biological containment. The armor didn't look forged; it looked grown, like an insect's carapace, segments overlapping with oily precision.

But once it settled a little, they could now see someone that seemed different. He was in an armored suit that was customized in red from head to toe. All his body except his head could be seen. And just by looking at it the men could tell the suit was more advanced than whatever Draxen had. They’ve seen him use many technology to create weapons before and that was his fathers profession but right now they can’t deny that Kaelithar was saying the truth in some way when he said something about living in the future when they were still in the past.

This creature, its thin wings capped with pointed bone, was the size of a lion. “This is one of the babies.” Apollo said without looking back at Dain or me. “Which means brother and mother are close by.” An even louder screech sounded, and the suits that the four brother wore, shifted into something else. That strange shimmer I had noticed over their clothing grew until the crisp and elegant lines of their suits morphed into armored plates and thick leather straps.

My mind was focused on getting to one place and they shall feel my wrath. The bodysuit I wore molded my frame like a second skin. Sleek and dull red. The material shimmered faintly under the dimming light—thick enough to shield me in combat, yet light enough to move without restriction. It was the mark of the crimson Alphas. An armor they wore in times of battles. One that designates fear, not for any weapon, but the fire in our blood. The bodysuit clung to my form like armor, laced with leather straps and reinforced at the joints for agility and stealth. The style was ancient—Myrrakai, they call it, just like in the legends told of my ancestors centuries ago. No one has worn it for centurie

This was Tank. He was massive—a seven-foot-tall juggernaut of heavy power armor, painted in industrial yellow and black hazard stripes. One arm was a standard manipulator; the other ended in a rotary minigun barrel. Despite the terrifying appearance, his voice was young, warm, and sounded like he was smiling. Ren walked over to the table. His avatar, Wraith, was less flashy—a ghillie suit made of optical-camo fabric and a long-range rifle slung over his shoulder.

Above us, the belly of the Sunburst flagship groaned, the anti-gravity tethers unspooling as the nightmare descended. The Avatar of Sol wasn't a tank or a drop-ship. It was a bipedal mech the size of a five-story building, forged entirely from pristine, gleaming gold durasteel. It possessed four massive, articulated arms. Two held colossal plasma-broadswords that burned with the heat of a dying star, while the other two wielded kinetic gravity-whips that cracked like thunder even in the vacuum of the upper atmosphere. Its head was a featureless, golden sunburst, save for a single, horizontal visor that glowed a blinding, unforgiving crimson.

Liu Yu was shocked at first and felt the threat of death, but then found out, eh? The hands-on mecha has a silver-grey exterior, that sleek shape and an ultra-metallic body that's not Lightsaber, the top combat armor, and the only 35-level mecha, the dream of all mecha divisions. In the entire alliance, only one person is capable and qualified to drive this mecha "Come out! Are you all shrinking tortoises when you keep hiding like this?"

"Dinner’s almost ready." I looked at the dishes on the table. Every single one was a favorite of mine. Now, they just made me feel sick. The man in front of me wore a standard Delta warrior uniform, sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful forearms. He looked so ordinary. It was impossible to reconcile this man with the Alpha of the Moonlight Pack. "Halen, why are you just standing there?" He gently guided me into a chair, his eyes full of warmth and expectation. I coldly pushed away the plate he handed me.

There was also a red light bar on the eye part of the helmet that gave the suit its futuristic RoboCop similarities. “You have a vector high energy machine gun that emerges from the suit’s left arm. You also have a tectonic laser sword that retracts out of the right arm of the suit. It’s kind of like a Star Wars lightsaber.” Irena giggled while trying to explain most of the suit’s features to Mark. Princess Death Row could see how Mark wasn’t fascinated by the suit he was about to put on, but she didn’t care.

Jameson motioning her inside. Shantal walks inside to giant machines hanging on the walls and cealings. They seem to be military, though Shantal can't put her finger on who uses those. Mr. Jameson says: "This is the hanger where I store all of my war machines. They're called-" "Just call them mechs." A mysterious, gruff voice, cuts him off. He walks in to the hanger, slowly revealing a 5'10 man in some type of armor and a helmet with a blue visor on his head. "Don't need to get all technical on the poor child." He laughs with a serious tone.