Roger Roger Star Wars Novels & Stories

“You slept for so long that I began to worry you would never wake up.” “How long was it?” I rasp, my voice hoarse from a combination of disuse and lack of water. “Five days,” the man responds. “Who are you?” I interrupt before he can continue. “Ah. Of course. Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I am Clay Denvo. The king of the rogues,” he says as he gestures widely with his arms. “I didn’t know that the rogues have a leader,” I respond coolly.

Chapter 46 Jordan POV Roger met me in a place that smelled like day old coffee and questionable decisions. It was technically a diner, but “diner” made it sound charming. This one had sticky menus, a neon beer sign that flickered like it was trying to die, and a server who called everyone “hon” with the flat exhaustion of a woman who’d seen too many men cheat and too many people pretend they didn’t. I slid into the booth across from Roger and set my phone on the table like a weapon.

Roger sat frozen, as if turned to stone. “Roger, who was that? Was it someone who can help us?” Gloria hurried over, her face full of desperate hope. Roger finally snapped back to himself. His bloodshot eyes were filled with shock and the fury of someone who felt stabbed in the back. “What is it? Roger, what’s wrong?” Gloria stared at him in alarm. The look on his face was so savage it was almost frightening. “Felix Gibson!” Roger spat the name out with a roar. “Mr. Gibson? Is he going to help us?” Gloria asked quickly.

“What a shame.” Roger walked up to me with a twinkle in his eye and proceeded to investigate my scalp by pulling hair left and right. “What are you doing?” I asked as I swatted his hand away. “Looking for antennas,” he giggled. “Asshole,” I giggled back. “I always knew that you were different,” he replied teasingly. “I just never knew how much.” “You might not think this is so funny when they come for you and there’s no one there to protect you,” Dr. Mokena said.

He was a master marksman and a deadly weapon in his own right. Maggie ‘Smoke' Rollins was Willow's choice for personal protection. With her dark red hair, blue eyes, and freckles, she looked like a sexy cartoon character. But her list of qualifications was as long as my right leg. Her Australian accent was a lilting song of obscenities and inventive epithets I'd never heard before. "You know their call signs. I'm Roger," the man in the front called. As bland a call sign as his descriptions. He had medium brown hair, dark eyes, and ruddy skin. The thing that saved him from sinking into obscurity was the light in his eyes.

His only interest was inflicting pain for no reason. No one knows how we came about, even we did not know. History got lost somewhere, the history of the crazy werewolves called rogues. I followed Logan to a room which was large, green being the theme color for it. I frowned because it reminded me of the pack we came from and that was probably the point behind it all.

Even in a world as dangerous as ours, moments like this were worth holding on to. The bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing, throwing flickering light over the faces of my team. Laughter echoed through the night, mixing with the scent of roasted meat and the earthy aroma of the forest. I leaned against a tree at the edge of the gathering, observing the rare sight of my rogues letting their guard down. Darius appeared beside me, his movements quiet but purposeful as always. “You’re not joining them?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Wait. She is a-” “A ROGUE.” Luke didn’t know it was possible for the room to get anymore quiet than it already was. The silence could deafen the person with the most sharp sense of hearing. It was so loud. “She is a rogue mother,” Luke said again, causing murmurs to arise all of a sudden amongst the elders. “I only found her today – not long ago, and I wasn’t ready to let anyone know, I am still processing all of it.” “What is he going to do now?” one elder whispered to another, but Luke could hear them all.

Kevin also went away from me. “Shit,” I mumbled. I removed my helmet and smash it to the ground. The two close friends I have just walked away from me. Moreover, the Doctor examined Roger’s ankle. Unfortunately, after the result of the x-ray, he suggested that it would take at least two to three months before Roger could walk back properly. Roger couldn’t help but gritted his teeth in disappointment. His anger and hatred towards me exploded. He called his parents to ask for five million dollars.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d be stuck in the forest when the sun went down. My gelding’s name was Roger. It wasn’t a name that I would have given him, but it was the name that he came with and that he responded to, so I didn’t change it. Roger was jet black with a white star on his forehead. He stood sixteen and a half hands high with powerful, well-defined flanks. Had he been human, he would have easily been taken for a body builder.