Rebels Iron Squadron Novels & Stories

"Iron Howl." Sera’s heart raced. The Iron Howl mercenaries were infamous—vicious, merciless, and loyal only to the highest bidder. They were the Council’s dogs, the ones sent to hunt down anyone who dared oppose their reign. And now, they were coming for them. “They’ll be here any minute,” Sera whispered. “What do we do?” Caelum’s expression was unreadable, but Sera could feel the tension in his posture. He was calculating, weighing their options.

“That will kill you.” He looks at me — really looks — and for a moment I see peace in his expression. “Maybe it’s time something ended.” “Axel, please—” But before I can reach him, the ground trembles. The sky splits open. And from the center of the ruins, a voice rises — cold, mechanical, familiar. > “Reboot complete.” I grab his arm, the wind tearing around us. “What’s happening?” He stares into the light ahead. “The world just remembered us.”

“What the f-k did you wake me up so early to say?” “We sent an extraction team to your warehouse hideout, Ms Carter,” Phillip Salem said calmly. “As you knew that we would. They have not returned. Your allies at the warehouse are now considered hostile and dangerous, and as such we will be sending a larger force for the purpose of suppressing the rebels at that location.” Aislen saw Connery move, out of the corner of her eye, the rogue alpha adjusting his weight on his feet, and his eyes glowing with his wolf, preparing to fight.

THE REBEL" ..................................................... The End ......................................................

Alpha Logan announces before silence, an eerie silence, fills the tension in the air. “Rebels?” I ask, my brows furrowing. Alpha Logan nods. “Rebels are rogues who are hell bent on destroying packs out of pure hatred. They despise our kind, and will find more and more ways to destroy us,” “We have tried to get information out of him for years, but his lips are sealed. And now, the rebels have gotten bolder. Only you could make him open up and—” “No,” It was barely whispered. Gasps echoed in the room, but I look at their Alpha dead in the eyes, making myself loud and clear.

He barked a laugh— actually laughed, before ripping his claws across a Corrupter’s throat. “YOU’RE LATE.” “YOU’RE WELCOME!” Another surge hit us before anything else could be said. This one came from the west. Not Corrupters. Rebels. Disciplined. Coordinated. Dangerous in a way that made my skin prickle. Revna’s forces. I had heard of them. They moved differently— no wasted motion, no frenzy. They didn’t howl or scream. They advanced in lines, breaking formation only when necessary, then snapping back into place like steel bending and straightening.

Captain grumpy. She wondered if any of them were refugee players, too. After they introduced themselves, they gave a basic rundown of the squadrons under their command. Everyone had plenty of infantry, but had room for specialized units as well. They were varied, and were different from each other. They had wings that specialized in electronic warfare, rescue, and sniper. They all shared r/r and recon wings as well. Tactical variety was good. "What's their manifesto?" Eva asked. Riddell grumbled in response. "Idiotic synth fascism. Here. Listen."

Armored in scrap. We had walked out of the storm and into the rebellion.

I followed Reaper's gaze. Idling at the very edge of the jungle treeline, acting as a heavily armed escort for the weary scavengers behind them, was a pack of about fifty outlaw bikers. They didn't ride sleek hover-tech. They rode massive, ear-splitting combustion choppers, rusted and spiked for wasteland warfare. Even from the top of the wall, I could see the patches on their heavy leather cuts. They bore a single, jagged word stitched in crimson: Revers. At the head of the column sat their leader on a monstrous, elongated chopper. Across his rusted gas tank, a brutal, unforgiving motto had been spray-painted in thick white letters: Blood on the asphalt.

"Godfather, is that wise? It could—" "Could what? Start a war?" I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "If Leo Volkov had the balls to take what's mine, he better be ready for the consequences." I walked back to the safe and took out my silver Desert Eagle. The sound of me chambering a round was deafening in the quiet room. "And one more thing." I tucked the gun into the back of my waistband. "Tell the families if I'm not back in three days, they burn the Russian syndicate to the ground."