Bladewolf Metal Gear Novels & Stories

Madam Amelia asked. “My plan was to render her powers useless.” I diplomatically said. Though, as I did, I felt the copper dagger I had bought with me. The one I was going to stab into her heart. The real answer, yes, I was going to kill her daughter. Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me.

The man's daughter, tiptoed as he bent over for her to reach Axe, her small fingers reaching out to touch Axe's bruised arm, whispered, "It's okay, mister. Papa will take care of you." ‘I came here to find a kid to raise into an indomitable bodyguard that will be loyal to you for life, and yet you chose such a weakling and useless thing?’ Chairman Blade thought, staring down at Axe and then at the worried way his daughter glanced at him, her tiny hand holding onto hid dirty ones as tears trickled down her peachy cheeks.

I gasped. Lunar Eclipse was more of a pack of mercenaries. No one knew the real names of the pack members, as they all had some sort of code name. The Alpha of the pack was known as Shadowstrike. Shadowstrike was considered the ultimate warrior, with skills that a normal werewolf didn’t possess. He could strike his opponents down with a single blow, but it wasn’t just because he was strong. There was a rumor that he could expel some sort of energy in his attacks that could knock someone down without ever touching them.

“I’m Julius. This is Liam and Mark. We’ll be your opponents since you fools thought you could just walk in and win.” He says it like we’re already buried. I take a long drag of my cigar, blow the smoke right in his smug face, then toss it to the floor. “I don’t need introductions.” I crack my neck left, then right. “I need blood.” I toss my gun aside, unsheathing my twin blades, forged with wolfsbane and reinforced silver. The blades hum. “Let’s dance, assholes.” They move like lightning. Julius lunges for me—fangs bared, claws slicing through the air. I twist, barely dodging as he rakes a claw across my chest armor. The metal screeches in protest but holds. Bastard has strength.

Rowan growled. Vane lunged. He didn't run; he flowed across the ground like a tidal wave of needles. A hundred silver spikes shot out from his center, aimed directly at Rowan’s chest. Rowan swung his blade, a arc of dark heat clashing with the liquid metal. The sound was like a car crash—high-pitched, grinding, and violent.

His accent was entirely different from that of SilverFang, deliberate in the way he pronounced each syllable. "My pursuit of triumph over SilverFang is an undying feat. I apologize if it scares you." His features were sharp, sharper than I remembered, his eyes reflecting gold, and one could easily see the intensity swirling within them, as though his wolf could descend upon me at any moment before I even had the chance to cast a spell. "I'm part of SilverFang. I don't think your apology is sincere, is it?" The man simply snorted a laugh. Exposing his left hand revealed a remote. Upon pressing a button, the MoonBlade pieces, painted in black, removed two pawns from SilverFang's white side.

He won’t do it himself because of the fear that he might use too much force and unintentionally kill me. I preemptively cover my head, the kicks and punches will hail for an hour or more, but I now know how to fake unconsciousness. I even know how to fake a convulsion and hold my breath and pretend to be dying. That always stops them because like the prophet said, they can’t risk killing me. “Get her the fuck out of here,” Alpha Theo commands but Blake interjects before Brenda leaves to fetch the servants to carry me out. “I will take her, Your Highness,” Blake offers, sending a chilling feeling down my spine. He is one of Alpha Theo’s Gamma friends. I have heard horrific stories of what he

Worst, it seemed that their numbers were infinite. Blade started moving. In a blink of an eye, the tides turned in their favor. He finally moved and killed our allies one by one. Sometimes he killed two or three at the same time. Blood covered his whole body. He is still in his human form. His eyes bore vengeance and lust for murder. He kills as though he was only dancing to the beat of the music. Truly, he is one powerful wolf. I glanced at our allies. I witnessed them die one by one.

I kicked the blade across the asphalt instead. “Boss!” Meatball bellowed from behind the wheel. The fat bastard launched himself out of the car, surprisingly quick for two hundred and fifty pounds of pasta-fed muscle. He slammed into the second guy like a linebacker, driving him into the side of the sedan. Metal dented with a crunch. Gunshots echoed, wild, sloppy. Sparks flew off the hood as the third Lombardi dog sprayed the car. I ducked, rolled, came up behind him. My arm snaked around his throat, Glock jammed against his temple.

Blade came out with his usual all black clothing—a big black sweatshirt, a black baggy jean, black glasses, black face cap, black sneakers— and a revolver carefully tucked by his side. To my shock, the passenger door opened and a girl came out. She was obviously young, probably fourteen or fifteen with red hair and a round hazel eyes which peered at me through the glass of the coffee shop. I couldn’t help but wonder who she was and why Blade had decided to bring her along. They both shared words before walking towards the coffee shop. “Emily!” Blade called as he walked inside with his companion right behind him. “I’m right here,” I said waving my hands in the air to draw his attention.