Junkrat X Roadhog Novels & Stories

Same nerd every Dick and Harry in Stormhalt Moon Pack want to take a swing at. Taking a long deep breath, I grab the pink backpack I’ve had since I was eleven from the rack and shrug it up my shoulder. Although the leather is starting to peel, it’s difficult to let go. It was the last gift I received from my Dad before his Heroic demise. He died protecting the Alpha from an assassin suspected to be from one of the many Enemies of our pack.

I would rather I die with my honor than find myself dying in fear. I got to my feet, my stance solid despite my throbbing shoulder. “If you’re looking for an easy fight,” I growled, “you’re about to be disappointed.” The rogue wolf paused. Its ears twitched before it let out a dark chuckle. I stiffened as it shifted, fur retreating, bones snapping into place. Within seconds, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood before me, his skin covered in scars, his eyes still glowing like molten gold.

He pointed to the dead man. “Quiet! She is mine!” He yelled and immediately picked up the man, separating his head from his body with a single slap. I gasped as his blood splashed all over my face. He had just killed those men with his bare hands! “Fucking assholes!” He cursed silently. It was just then that he turned his attention to me. I realized that I was seeing him under the daylight for the first time too He was over 6.3, black curly hair, well built with toned muscles. He had a mustache and a tattoo on his arm.

He handed a glass to Vulture, one to Jax, and held one out to me. "To the road," Ruan said, raising his glass toward the shattered skyline of Blackridge. "To the road," we echoed. We stood there for a long time, the four of us—the broken nurse, the scarred king, the silent assassin, and the digital ghost. We were the architects of the new Blackridge. We had survived the "Anatomy of Fear" and the "White Wolf’s Howl." We had turned the "Architecture of Revenge" into a foundation of iron.

“Run me a license plate.” “Sure, Boss. What's the plate number?” Giving him the plate number, Santiago confirms it belongs to the Mongrels. While driving his motorbike, he pulls a firearm and shoots at the tire as the van swerves off the road and tilts. Many mongrels, then he runs out of the van, and they spot Joshua. They are all full of tattoos and carry the number 27, blood, and flesh. He is walking up to him. Joshua off his helmet as his eyes darken of anger, making a first. Without saying a word, he shoots the guy in the head. He returns to his bike, pulls out a machine gun, and starts firing as the mongrels drop one by one to the ground. As Joshua realizes the building is in Mongrel te

Below, headlights streamed along wet asphalt like veins pumping blood through a wounded beast. Jaxon sat behind her at the glass desk, shirtless, a map of the city spread before him. His scars caught the low light, pale lines of history written across muscle. His phone buzzed every few minutes, each vibration another piece of bad news. “Another explosion,” Viktor said over speakerphone. “Zane’s crew hit one of our shipment trucks on the Eastside. No survivors.” Jaxon’s hand stilled on the desk. He didn’t curse. He didn’t throw the phone. He just exhaled once, long and sharp. “Clean it up. No cops. Double the guards at every dock and warehouse.”

Jinx was in the driver’s seat, her hands flying across a holographic dashboard, wrestling with the steering yoke. Ren was in the passenger seat, manning the electronic countermeasures and precision targeting computer. Tank was standing in the open hatch on the roof, manning a twin-barrel .50 caliber machine gun that looked big enough to shoot down a satellite. Behind them, a heavy armored transport truck followed closely, its engines roaring. "Incoming!" Ren shouted, watching the radar screen on the dash. "Red dots everywhere! Bandits at six o'clock!" Behind them, a swarm of enemies appeared from the dust cloud. They weren't cars—they were jagged, rusty motorcycles ridden by green-skinned Or

I knew the Rogue was still out there, but my attention has been absorbed by Lyla. The shadow ahead resolves into tawny fur streaked with crimson. It’s Liam, turning toward me, his muzzle glistens pink. Took you long enough. He doesn’t need vocal cords to sound like a prick. I snap at his flank. Status. Rogue took down Jax near the falls. His hackles rise when I growl. Still breathing when we found him. Cassie’s doing damage control. Copper stench floods my sinuses. Fresh blood. The wrongness curdles the air like spoiled milk.

this time around, the man turned his body around to take a clear view of the weird young lady. "You don't know what five dollars three cents mean?" Valerie didn't answer but was staring at her feet because she thought, no matter what that meant, it was something common to the people of this city. "I don't know how to put this for you to understand, but I am a Werewolf who is in search of her team members and also her mate who were kidnapped in few meters away from here" The man once again looked at her and nodded disapprovingly and closed his door which he had opened for her. He brought the windscreen down and said...

“And no, it wasn’t Max. He meant to intervene but turns out he didn’t need to. Should I tell you all why? Or do you already know?” “Stop!” My mother strictly said. This is how she sounded when she berated us. Kent’s smile grew further up his cheeks. He looked at me, then came closer to examine me. His dark eyes followed my body, up and down. “Plain. Simple. Nothing extraordinary about her. Nothing like Marianna.” He stopped in front of me, his eyes reading mine. He searched for a few seconds, not sure what he was looking for, but I was being taken by their color. They weren’t fully black. It was almost like they had a hue of red in them. This was the first time I had seen a werewolves—a male