Rogue Megaman Novels & Stories

Rogan appeared from the side and pounced on the rogue closest to Nina. “GET YOUR DISGUSTING BEINGS AWAY FROM WHAT IS MINE!!!” Rogan screamed as he attacked the first rogue. All he had to do was send a powerful slash at the rogue with his claws and it flew back a few meters and a terrible gash had appeared on its stomach. It cried out in pain.

“Once I’m done with you.” The Rogue just chuckled. “What, a little girl like you? I’d crush you in an instant. Get out of here, short stuff.” “Dear, don’t endanger yourself for an old woman like me—” the old woman began, but the Rogue cut her off, whipping the silver blade of a knife out of his pocket and pointing it at her. “Shut up, bitch!” he snarled. That was when I had enough. Instinct kicked in. “Get him,” Ema growled. “I want to feel his bones crunch in my jaws.”

Gross, this guy just does not give up. Spinning on my toes, I turn and look the rogue in the eyes. Anger is coursing through me at this point, and I am sure that my eyes are glowing silver. "I told you to get lost," I growl at him. He takes a step back from my growl and he stares at me. "Well, well, well. You don’t smell like a wolf," he says sniffing my hair.

Amelia had the same thought I did and grabbed my arm, hauling me out of the water behind her while Nico took up our rear, snarling at the intruders. “Move,” she said. “Now.” We didn’t make it far. The first rogue hit the ground in front of us before I even saw him coming, teeth bared. Nico shifted and swiped a claw at the rogue, catching it across the face, but it only seemed to anger the rogue more. The rogue snarled, leaping at us. I just managed to shift in time, leaping out of the way, before it struck me. By then, we were surrounded.

Before I could react, the man lunged, claws extended and gleamed with the sickly green of memory poison. I twisted away, but in doing so, my concentration faltered. The field of balanced perception wavered, and several of the rogues who had been on the verge of clearing their minds fell back into their manipulated rage. The attacking rogue pressed his advantage, driving me back down the hallway, away from the staircase and the main battle. Cut off from the others, I was forced to defend myself physically, my silver knife, a poor match for werewolf claws and strength. "You were supposed to be captured, not killed," the rogue snarled, his voice oddly mechanical. "But plans change."

I put what I am doing to the side and gestured for him to take a seat. "Owen, I need to talk to you about something. I do not want you to take offense, but it's about rogues." I nod. Rogues often give packs trouble; somehow, I am an exception. Probably because I attempt to communicate with the wolf packs and live on neutral territory, it probably also helps that they come to my club. "I am not sure what help I can be," I don't associate with many wolves, other than those who work or are members of the club.

"Surely... there is an error? My alpha protector is a peaceful leader." The rogue sneers, pulling a thick roll of heavy tactical tape from his belt. Before Jone can weave another sentence, the rogue slaps the adhesive over Jone's mouth, cutting off his ability to manipulate the conversation. "Let us begin the chronicle," the rogue whispers crazily, hoisting a graphic pack record photo showing a mutilated wolf corpse. "Let us discuss the rogue commander whose limbs Michael Jackson personally severed and left for the crows." Jone stares at the image through narrowed eyes, his inner wolf completely unmoved by the blood. If that rogue had threatened the Silverclaw borders, Jone only regrets that

"You can. You will. That's an order." She whimpers. But nods. The rogues are ten feet away now. Eight. Six. I wait. Wait. Wait. Four feet. "RUN!" Camila bolts. Two rogues chase her. Four stay focused on me. Good. Fewer to fight. The lead rogue lunges. I sidestep. Use his momentum against him. Grab his arm. Twist. He goes down hard. The other three pause. Surprised. "Not human," one mutters.

The other was Mia. Mia was a mystery, even among rogues. Tall and striking, with coppery brown hair always tied back and sharp eyes that missed nothing, she had once been a beta female in a powerful northern pack. Her mate rejected her for a higher-ranking she-wolf, casting Mia out like trash. But unlike most broken wolves, Mia didn’t shatter, she sharpened. She had joined the rogues five years ago and quickly made herself useful. She fought when she had to, healed when others couldn't, and was one of the few who could negotiate borders and land without spilling blood.

Her instincts screamed, feet backing away slowly, breath catching in her throat. One lunged. She screamed—and then suddenly— A blur of black fur crashed into the attacker mid-air. A massive black wolf with silver eyes, twice the size of the others, snarled with a guttural sound that shook the air. From the distance, golden eyes watched from the rooftop. The rogue Alpha. His fists were clenched. His chest rose and fell in frustration. He was going to save her. But he was too late. That bastard beat him to it.