Striker X Novels & Stories

Xander crossed the distance. What happened next was not, technically, a fight. A fight had some theoretical symmetry to it. What Xander was doing was closing range against someone whose suit was reading his bio-electrical frequency and translating that input into micro-predictions about his next movement, which meant every strike he initiated was partially anticipated, which meant his strike timing needed to be not his own timing. He threw a chunk of liquefied concrete at Sterling's head instead. Not as an attack. As a distraction — the suit's prediction system was reading his nervous system, not objects. The object had no bio-electrical frequency to read. It arrived at Sterling's helmet on

Please don’t tell me she cried over some boring news about them. “I’m not really interested if it’s not Garrick Glinson.” Before she could say anything else, I interrupted her. She pouted and slightly slapped my shoulder. “Why are you so fixated on Garrick in the first place? I understand he’s a soccer player. No one, however, could equal Knox Carly’s abilities. He’s the greatest!” I snorted as she stressed the final two syllables. She rolled her eyes when she saw my look “What the hell. It has to do with Garrick. Have you heard about the rumor of a divorce and a hidden son?” That sparked my curiosity.

There was only one person who could fight him easily. A monster who played with shadows and contracts and bodies. He was just like a viper who never did charity. A man who scared every other man into obedience. Xander Sterling. I hated that I knew it but I hated that I needed him even more. But I needed someone strong enough to ruin Miguel, and Xander was the only one I’d seen win every war he entered.

But the Xeria cultivator was quick—he kicked off the ground, leaping into the air with the agility of a bird. With a flick of his wrist, a sharp gust of wind shot toward Crystal, carrying small, jagged pebbles with it. Crystal narrowed her eyes and swiftly raised her hand, summoning a layer of ice in front of her. The wind slammed into the ice wall, scattering in different directions. The Xeria fighter didn’t stop. Twisting his body midair, he used the wind to propel himself forward, closing the gap between them. He landed on the side of a rocky outcrop, using it as a launchpad to strike from an angle.

The Striker was thrown violently off the ramp, plummeting down into the flooded lower levels of the Ark. "We're ten floors down!" Dax yelled into the comms. "Hold on, Mia!" THE PENTHOUSE Reyes was losing the wrestling match. The Abyssal-Striker was simply too strong, its hydro-pressurized servos overpowering her human strength. It pinned her to the floor, raising the humming harmonic blade to plunge it into her chest.

Xavier flashes his eyes before the bouncer again and he opens the thick glass doors and once it closes, I can barely hear any sound coming down the stairs. There are several tables with strip poles passing through the middle of the table and as we take a seat on the table that has no one dancing in it, two strippers leave the other tables and come to ours. They're really beautiful ladies with nice bodies. One is a dark-skinned woman with full breasts and a wider hip than her counterpart who's slender and on the softer side. I look at Xavier. He looks tense. Like something is bothering him and when I ask him, he tells me he's fine.

The man that shot Galland can only hope that he does not make it out of here alive, for I am coming for you whether you are alive or not. But revenge comes later; there is a reason why I brought this big beauty out here, my mean ass fucking tank gun. Ya…it provides accuracy, range, penetration, and rapid fire in one package. And I am about to find my happy self behind it. This time there is absolutely no time for elegance; I slowly stick my head through with sturdy feet; I position half of my body and plant my ass down. I send the second and the third Stryker further down the road. We are finishing this now; there is not coming back. Once in position, waiting on my command,

"Link them in, please." Penn took the phone, attached it to the system. "Lorenzo, are you there?" Striker called. There was no answer. I smothered the smile. And we were foiled at the first turn. Striker looked at Penn, his dark brows raised. Penn shook his head. Hit a couple buttons. "Sorry. It was muted." Striker tried to turn his laugh into a cough. He wasn't very successful. "Lorenzo, do you copy?" "I'm here, Striker. I'm standing on the rooftop of the building to the southwest of the corner. Waving at the sky like an idiot. Do you have me?"

This time, her strikes were swift and precise, each blow landing with devastating force. Xander's confidence wavered as Amelia's power intensified. He tried to match her strength, but it was clear he had underestimated the true extent of her capabilities. In a final display of pure rage and determination, Amelia unleashed a forceful blow that sent Xander sprawling to the ground.

I nodded while smiling and waving at everyone I recognized. "Yes, I am. It's Dante's night!" I said into the microphone. "Of course, of course. We all know there is no one here who supports Dante Solano more than you do. How sure are you that he will win this season? I mean, we all know the Solano brothers are the best strikers there are. Voss Solano was also nominated this season. He played well this year as well," she said. My stomach dipped, but I still held my smile.