Star Wars The Clone Wars Assassin Droid Novels & Stories

she battered her eyes at him. “Which if Forrest is Darth Vader, that means. Darius, is that you under the Mandalorian helmet?” her voice taking on a flirty tone. “Yeah, that would be me,” Darius answered, bored and not paying attention as he shook a rattle at Ryū to keep him happy.

absorbing the shock of the Assassin's strike. Kael provided the "Overclock," heating the Assassin's digital frame until its code began to "Loop." Elara delivered the "Absolute Zero," freezing the Assassin’s logic-gates in mid-swing. The Assassin didn't die; it Crashed. It fell to the floor of the station, a heap of flickering blue pixels that slowly dissolved into the station’s background noise. The Declaration Elara stood in the center of the Central Chamber, the eyes of a thousand species upon her. She didn't look like a refugee. She looked like a Conqueror.

My ears popped painfully as the air pressure dropped. "Shields up!" Wolfy gasped. He clutched his stomach, his face pale green. "We aren't alone," Barzil warned. He struggled to stand against the gravity. His legs shook. Red lights flared in the cargo bay. The strobe effect was disorienting. INTRUDER DETECTED. Four security droids detached from the ceiling. They were sleek, spider-like machines. Their servos whirred—a high-pitched mechanical whine. They were armed with stun-batons that crackled with blue electricity.

The moss on the ground became the dirty concrete floor. And ahead of him, Marcus wasn't Marcus. The giant figure carrying the unconscious girl shimmered and distorted. The tactical gear melted into a black guard uniform. The face... the face became a blank, mirrored visor. A Sentinel Droid. "Target acquired," the Sentinel (Marcus) boomed. Jack’s heart hammered against his ribs. The Progenitor Heart pumped panic through his veins, fueling the Curse. "You won't take her," Jack snarled. His voice was guttural, distorted by the black ink rising in his throat.

The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word. Kenneth didn’t flinch. He didn’t even have a smidge of fear running through him. You know why? His killer machine was never going to kill him? Hell, he built her from scratch. To him, she was like a dog he had properly trained; he knew just the right treat to have her back on her hunches, tail wagging obediently, waiting for the next command. “Careful, child,” he murmured calmly. “That’s a very expensive suit, one I’m particularly fond of, like I am you.”

He could be sedated. I carefully open the door, sliding inside the space quickly before quietly closing the door behind me. Maybe I should contact Avani and the others, but I’m not wasting another moment, letting these creatures hurt my son. I’ve barely taken three steps into the warehouse space when the lights flicker on, lighting up the room. There in the center is a man, leaning against a desk with computer monitors lined up behind him. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the air dragon. Finally. I thought maybe you weren’t as intelligent as I’ve heard,” the man says.

"If Gitte came back to me, God it would be amazing. I've missed her so much." I let go of his chest to tuck my hair behind my ears and it was like a sudden breaking of a spell. He let out a deep breath and broke his hold of me. Throwing the cloak completely around me he quickly stripped off his t-shirt and dived into his bag for another. I shamelessly watched as I greedily absorbed the image of his bareback. Then I realised I needed to get changed too. "Don't worry, you can get changed without me watching. Assassin, not pervert."

The man recoils back, looks down at his chest with surprise, then falls lifelessly to the floor. Dragon takes care of his man and nudges his chin, urging me to proceed. We fire at a few men as we make our way to the back of the warehouse. But everything comes to a standstill when I come face-to-face with Willem Kazik himself. Willem looks peeved as he, Maya, Ilya Sardoff, Stojan Malijc, and two other men stand in the middle of an assembly room with weapons drawn in our direction.

I slam into one of them and kick the other in the head, then twirl before the one with the knife can stab me in the neck. A gun cocking behind my head makes me stiffen. Nostrils flaring, I raise my hands and get ready to attack, but before I can, the man behind me falls unconscious onto the floor. Turning quickly, I spot one of my fellow Assassins, Phoenix, finishing off the last two men. The hallway looks like a war zone with unconscious bodies lying in various spots on the floor. As soon as the last man is down, we both face each other. “What are you doing here?” We both ask in unison.

The man who once lived for my breath was now the predator stalking it, his every movement a jagged, lethal promise of my end. We were on the open observation deck of the Spire’s flagship, suspended thousands of feet above the burning Iron Shore. The wind howled around us, tearing at my silk gown and the Sovereign tactical gear that now encased his body. Dante moved with a sickening, mechanical grace, his obsidian arm glowing a sterile, blinding white. He was "Assassin 01," a ghost with no name and no mercy.