Mako Mass Effect Novels & Stories

"Don't look back. Just get it." ​From the doorway, Malakai appeared. He was breathing hard, his custom suit singed from the EMP discharge, a silver-weighted blade in each hand. He didn't look at me with the smugness from the club. He looked at the Architects with a hatred that matched my own. ​"Three of them, Blackwood," Malakai said, stepping up to my left, his voice low and lethal. "They’re high-frequency shifters. They don't feel pain the way we do."

"It hardens on impact. It’ll stop a 9mm and dampen a blade. Plus, it’s lead-lined for thermal masking. You'll be ghosts on the sensors even when you're at a full sprint." "Finally," Mako grunted, a rare smirk crossing his face. He nudged Rat with his elbow. "Though I think the girls are going to be disappointed. They were finally getting used to me being naked." Cane reached out, his thumb tracing the hexagonal pattern. He looked at me, and for a second, the Alpha was gone, replaced by a man who was genuinely, deeply impressed. "Your father did this?" "He’s trying to fix the world he broke," I said softly.

"The 'sanctuary' was a prison, Malakor. And you were the jailer. The world is done living in the dark." "The dark was where we were gods!" Malakor roared, and with a flick of his wrist, the gravity around the Nexus inverted. The final battle did not begin with a charge; it began with a Psychological Siege. Malakor didn't just attack their bodies; he attacked their "Source." He unleashed a "Memory-Blight" - a wave of psychological energy designed to force the pack to relive their deepest failures.

loyalty to anyone with refractive vision. Varkas wasn't looking at a returned god. He was looking at a beautifully destructive weapon that he had just successfully programmed with a few pretty words. The Silver Chill at the base of Marcus’s skull screamed so loud it gave him a migraine. This entire world was a trap. The pristine streets, the bowing men, the custom-built origin story—it was all a gilded, high-tech cage designed to domesticate the Glass Cannon.

They all were built about the same but had different coloring and eye shape. The males, however...The differences in each species are drastically more noticeable on their bigger bodies. Plus, I hadn't even seen a person from Gaimo until Capt. Moor came out with his dark green scales running along the sides of his neck. His eyes remind me of a reptile from Earth and are pretty intimidating. But none of the men are ugly or even unattractive. They're actually all really cute. They just seem serious... "Next up, Lieutenants. Lt. Modok- Gaimo, Lt. Mashorn- Cok, Lt. Kedah- Frole, Lt. Zarn- Makskin...

Damon said, boosting Runa up toward the central manifold. Runa climbed with the agility of a forest cat, her hands slick with oil. She reached the release lever, but as she gripped it, the deck beneath them shuddered. A massive, steam-powered claw swept across the catwalk, pinning Damon against the brass sphere. "DAMON!" Runa screamed. From the shadows, Malakai stepped forward. He wasn't wearing armor; he wore a long grey coat, and his mechanical arm—a masterpiece of brass and silver—was whirring with lethal intent.

It was within that time humans decided to seek greater power. Jourton: Oh yeah! That's how Majekadors and Rokalees were created! After years of breeding with Deamons, I think you guys call them "Aliens" we gained a greater understanding of the format of molecular makeup. (As Jourton smiles at Mr.Enthro Jourton's mind creates small lables all over the man's body, revealing the molecular structure of the man before him.) Mr.Enthro: Your doing it right now aren't you? That looking through people thing.

However, before he could reach Victor, a tail lashed out from the shadows. Victor wasn't merged with his mech, so of course Windfall wouldn't let other mechs get close to Victor. Bam! Malcolm's mech was sent flying, then rolled on the ground. Fortunately for Malcolm, Windfall didn't hit Malcolm with the flail part of its tail, or Malcolm's mech would have shattered on the spot instead of rolling on the ground. The strength of a Monarch-rank was no joke. However, even without using the flail part, that tail whip almost snapped Malcolm's mech in half.

Hunter growled lowly. "He's so f*cking strong. All of you guys are against him, the king, and all the other packs, and yet Alonso is alive, successfully hiding and planning a massacre. That man is inhuman. He won't stop until he gets what he wants and his ambition is f*cking crazy." Lennox stated the obvious. It was true that the werewolf race had never come across such a strong threat that they still couldn't eliminate. Even after losing a strong pack like Draken's. Alonso still stood strong prowling towards his goal. It was f*cking intimidating.

The gentle, desperate man who had dislocated his own shoulder to break our death-loop hours ago was gone, buried beneath a tide of virus-induced rage. Malakai reached the armored transport, his hands trembling as he punched the emergency override code into the door panel. "Close the doors! Close the hangar gates! Lock this sector down!" "Malakai!" Dominic’s voice didn't sound human. It was a dual-toned, grinding vibration that shook the steel rafters above our heads.