Iron Man Blood Edge Armor Novels & Stories

Gently, she cut into my wrist with the blunt knife, and suddenly I became less concerned about my sickness and more scared of dying from an infection. "Is it working?" I asked as blood dripped from my wrist and into the steel bowl beneath. "Camille?" "It might if you stop talking." She said with her eyes shut. I waited impatiently for something to happen and it was then I noticed the red powder on the blunt knife. "What is that?" I asked but by then whatever it was had started taking effect on me. I growled in pain as my bones snapped and my veins popped out. My Alpha eyes appeared and my sharp canines sprouted out. "What have you done?" I asked, struggling to resist the shift.

“But… what kind of surgery are you about to have?” “It’s a little hard to explain. You know Colonel Rhodey in the Avengers, right?” “The other Iron Man? Oh, what was his name again?” “Yes. War Machine. You remember when he got injured in Civil War?” Kate’s eyes light up. “Oh right! After that, he was wearing those high-tech leg braces designed by Tony Stark.” “Exactly. Except I won’t have any leg or arm braces. It’ll still be me. My own limbs, the bones inside my skin etc.”

The surrogate mask is heavy, but it's the only armor I have left. My fingers graze the back of my neck—the thin, raised line of scar tissue across my throat, and just above it, tucked into the coil of my hair, the Phantom Blade. A titanium needle, no thicker than a wire, its tip ground to a point that could part skin before a man could register the cold. As long as it's there, I am not a victim. I am a weapon with the safety still on. "Ms. Moore? This way."

His face was pale, eyes reflecting the metallic gleam of Seraphim — the holy weapon he had seized after the final battle. One arm was no longer flesh. It was living alloy, cold silver laced with dark crimson veins. “You won, Evelyn…” he whispered, voice hoarse, as if speaking to a ghost. “But this era will bear my name, not yours.” On the table before him lay the dissected body of a vampire. Tubes fed dark fluid into an energy core wired directly to an artificial heart — the Genesis Core, the revived remnant of the Genesis Blood project. Every drop of blood inside trembled, glowing as if alive.

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”

A great amount of it spilled out of the gash in her armor as well. Rezhathii’s armor was covered in little cuts and nicks, some of which trickled blood. Save for the one large gash, which poured it out instead. Her heart thundered in her chest as the fringes of her vision began to muddy.

If not for werewolves’ enhanced hearing, I may not have heard him. “’Oh shit’ is right” Bree tells him as Detective Doug then kneels down across the body from where Scott it. “Is that…?” he asks as he looks back up at Scott and then at me. And then back and Scott. And then back at me as though he’s playing an invisible type of ping pong that will somehow result in us telling him that the human’s wounds cannot possibly be from a vampire.

The moment he tried, a thick shard of ice erupted from his chest, peeling back the thick metal of his armor. I didn't wince as I felt the sickly-sweet splattering of blood across my face, but resisted the urge to wipe it away as his body crumpled to the ground. I looked up, dazed but very much grateful as Atlas's pale eyes peered down at me.

I did not give them the chance to take a second step. I reached up with my right hand, catching the silver clasp of my velvet coat, and tore the heavy garment from my shoulders. It fell to the marble floor in a pool of midnight blue, revealing the dark scale armor beneath, the heavy broadsword sheathed at my back, and the blood-red wolf crest of Bloodreaver forged into the steel over my heart. I unbuckled the false rapier from my belt, tossing the decorative blade aside, and stepped fully into the cobalt light streaming through the rose window.

"We have something for you. Something to make sure everyone knows exactly who they're dealing with." They set the cases down on the table. Silas clicked the latches and swung the lid open. My breath hitched. Resting in the foam was a suit of armor unlike anything I’d ever seen. It wasn't the dull silver of the guard or the black of the scouts. It was a deep, bruised crimson—the color of drying blood, polished to a mirror sheen. "It’s dark red," I whispered, reaching out to touch the cold metal of the breastplate.