Commander Wolffe Clone Wars Novels & Stories

Foam dripped from his jaws. "Wolfy! Sleep dart!" Barzil shouted. He ducked under a wildly swung steel beam. The wind of it ruffled his cape. "Negative," Wolfy’s voice crackled over the comms. Tense. "He's moving too fast. I can't get a clean shot without risking a kinetic rebound into the Commander." Viggo roared. It wasn't human. It wasn't wolf. It was the sound of a mind snapping. The sound of a reactor going critical. He turned. His gaze locked onto Barzil. He didn't see his Commander. He saw a target.

he whispered. “She’s me,” Chaewon said. “And I’m not ready to forgive her.” “You don’t have to,” Jian replied. “You just have to survive her.” She looked up at him, and saw the truth now..He wasn’t a clone. He wasn’t perfect. He was flawed and that made him hers. __AN UNKNOWN LOCATION__ The clone sat on a throne of code—dozens of children kneeling before him. Red Web’s true army. He watched the footage of the Vesper explosion. Paused on Chaewon’s face. Then turned to his general. “It’s time.” “For what?” Another question. He smiled. “To kill both the phoenixes.”

a harsh, mechanical voice roared from the upper reactor catwalk. ​Standing on the central bridge directly beneath the pulsating artificial sun was a tall, skeletal man encased in high-grade dark-mana power armor. Twin void-plasma cannons were integrated into his gauntlets—Commander Vane of the Eclipse Syndicate. ​"Ethan of Drakenhold!" Vane shrieked through his helm's loudspeaker, raising his arm-cannons. "You are too late! The Star-Forge's command matrix is already eighty-five percent corrupted!"

“No. I have sworn to myself that I would serve both Young Masters, and that includes protecting them from… spies whenever possible.” “Hm, but I will still report to Master Alexander about this. I could at least confirm that Nicodemus’ visitor is actually a werewolf.” There was no escaping the keen senses of a fellow. “I was going to try and convince you to leave this development alone, but that would be me forgetting that you are loyal to your master.” “And you, for one, are also eager to support the Woodman cause. I doubt that you would try to stop them from knowing something that would help it move forward.”

I said, escorting him out when the Gamma came in, bowing at our feet. “Dave,” my son called, drawing closer to him. “What’s the report?” he asked. Dave, the Gamma, he’s the head of Wolf Fall’s army, protecting and alerting the pack of any danger. Last night, there was an alert on the sighting of a notorious rogue we’ve been hunting down for long. And by we, I mean myself and Thelma. My son sees this rogue as one who works for our enemies, but I see that beast as my ticket to something important.

The heavy canvas flap of the command tent was violently thrown open, admitting a furious swirl of mountain snow and three hulking northern wolves. At the head of the trio was Commander Vorn, a scarred, nine-foot veteran whose grey fur bristled with undisguised contempt. He wore heavy iron plate armor, his hand resting aggressively on the pommel of his massive two-handed greatsword. Flanking him were his two chief lieutenants, their amber eyes blazing with the predatory, mutinous rage of warriors who realized they had been sold a phantom empire.