Iron Man Bleeding Edge Armor Novels & Stories

​The Shadow’s Edge ​Elena moved like a ghost through the shimmering indigo mist. She reached the first ridge of the Liquidator vanguard, her silver blades humming. She didn't strike from the front. She dropped from a high, obsidian branch, her weight amplified by the "Null-Link" to hit the lead Liquidator like a falling star. ​Her blade didn't just cut his armor; it Infected it. The moment the silver steel touched the Directorate’s chrome, a microscopic network of black vines erupted from the wound, clogging the suit’s joints and shorting out its life-support.

the computer voice droned. Four silver soldiers slid out from a nearby building. They didn’t walk—they rolled, fast, on wheels built into their feet. Their glass faces caught the starlight. “I’ve got them!” Raven shouted, leaping forward. Her arms, laced with gold wires, moved faster than thought. She didn’t stab—she just pressed a hand to the first soldier’s chest. The silver armor melted away, spilling off like water. Underneath was a guy in a t-shirt, blinking in shock.

His armor is made of silver that is scratched and stained a dark blood color. (weak laugh) "Commander, I'm still breathing. “Not really.” Even though my shoulder hurts really badly, I crawl to him. "Don't move." We need to.

Chapter 7 Raul’ s POV Far be it from me to deny Scarlett what she wants, so when she started panting, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me”, I had to comply. I am, after all, a gentleman. I unbuckle my jeans and start to slide them off as Scarlett, with one of her extended claws, makes my job easier and slices them off. It’s a good thing that she and I started keeping extra clothes at each other’s pack houses because of this very thing.

He was in his late twenties, broad-shouldered and muscled from years of hard labor and combat, with tousled dark hair, a stubbled jaw, and stormy blue eyes that defied her even now. His shirt had been torn away during capture, revealing a chiseled chest marked with fresh bruises and old scars. Iron manacles bound his wrists above his head, forcing his arms to stretch, while his ankles were shackled to the floor, leaving him exposed and vulnerable. He glared at her, his jaw clenched, but Elara could see the flicker of heat in his gaze as it roamed over her body.

Belial's body shudders around the blade's edge, the point of it skewering him through his sternum in a sickening way. More blood drips down onto the ground, coating the front of his plate armor with thin rivets. I stare in horror as blood bubbles out of his mouth, his teeth clenching together in anger.

I didn't flinch, and I absolutely refused to give him the pathetic satisfaction of showing even a fraction of surprise. Instead, I simply sat perfectly still, my hands resting in my lap, watching his massive reflection in the clear glass of my vanity mirror. Kaelen walked into the room, and the entire atmospheric pressure violently plummeted. He was fully, terrifyingly armored for war. The matte-black, heavy steel of the Vanguard warlord armor entirely encased his massive frame. The broad iron shoulders were molded into the terrifying likeness of roaring wolves, and a massive, lethal silver broadsword was strapped securely to his back.

The flames turned into jagged shards of orange glass that fell and shattered on the ground. "We can't get close, Emma!" Félix shouted, his daggers useless against the void. "It’s not a physical cold! It’s the Absence of Motion!" I looked at the Iron-Wolves of the South. They were standing at the edge of the plaza, their skin iridescent with the magnetized silver-iron of their new evolution. "Arthur! The Iron-Blood!" I cried. "Your marrow! It’s the only thing with enough density to resist the Zero!"

A flash of golden-red flame exploded from my hand, and instantly died. The Void-Iron armor didn't catch fire. It didn't even heat up. The dark metal sucked the flame straight out of my palm like water down a drain, glowing a faint, angry purple for half a second before dulling back to ash-gray. A cold dread settled in my gut; if fire couldn't touch these things, I had no idea what could. The guard didn't even flinch. It drove its heavy iron knee straight up into my ribs. CRACK.

Leo (Tank) roared, his voice carrying over the ringing in everyone's ears. The giant man stepped forward, clad in the matte-black "Juggernaut" heavy assault armor they had looted from the Mobile Command Center. The armor made him look like a walking monolith. He reached out and snatched the smoking rifle from the hands of a trembling Ironhead ganger who looked barely out of his teens.