War Machine From Iron Man Novels & Stories

he shrugged and took the water bottle from Yara. "Thank you," he said to her and drank it whole. "I so much despise this Gora," she announced while riding up the stairs with Zaviar and Yara flanking her. "The Pakistani boys are much better than them." "Just because you couldn't have colorful eyes and blonde hair doesn't mean you should be jealous of the one having." She locomoted her body to look at the face of none other than Abraham Chauhdry. He was standing two steps behind her. His electric green eyes were contracted into narrow slits due to bright sunlight. His blonde hair shimmered in the sunshine. Minahil was too busy glaring at him

He looked so frail that it broke my heart. “Big. I never had imagined a werewolf pack could be that big. And wealthy. They have a lot of money. The pack people are a bit wary of me, but both Alpha Logan and Noah and Luna Coraline and Rose adore me. They are very nice. I am a warrior in the army now and a sworn guard to the Lunas…means I…protect them if needed, not that they can’t protect themselves.” “You have been busy,” dad muttered, giving me a look.

To Amy, the metal man looked like a bronze statue of 2Pac if it came to life. She saw the electric light in his eyes glowing like a charging light on a smartphone. His chiseled, metallic chest resembled body armor on a gladiator. Amy’s words were stuck in her throat as she stared at 2Pac. She didn’t want to be fascinated by a robotic man wearing blue jeans. Amy tried to keep her focus on her son sitting in the metal man’s arms. She looked up at the robotic 2Pac, who towered over her. His carved titanium alloy-covered shoulder muscles shimmered from the auto factory ceiling’s lights shining down on his six-foot-four frame.

The personal deflector on his left was now on, the thump of each projectile’s landing rattled against his arm as the durability meter continued to decline. His weapon was drawn, and in that short span he had already fired five rounds. On his right shoulder another arm had extended, carrying a plasma machine gun. The weapon spat a steady stream of lethal pulse bolts at anything that posed a threat. “War visor” At his command, the heavy metal plate slid to his front. Caking his vision with sensory input and numbers. H-6 kept his senses sharp, he was surrounded by enemies. All of them armed and ready. But not all were willing. Many were running, terrified by the onslaught of his machines. Yet,

They looked out of place in a wolf war, but they had the technology I needed to deal with a hybrid, and I had paid them a small fortune in gold and land to bring their newest invention to the front lines. "Is the device ready, or are you going to keep me waiting while my warriors get slaughtered by that girl?" I asked the lead hunter, a cold-faced man named Vane who was busy checking the brass gears on a massive, cannon-like machine that was being hoisted onto a wooden platform.

"If that male had not rolled up in that white 1967 Nightclaw Rover with the custom tracking stripes, my boots would still be inside my den." Ivanov's jaw clenches tight, his neck veins popping. "Son of a bitch." "Oh, so that machine actually belongs to your hoard?" I ask, acting like my wolf isn't totally impressed. "Yeah. My beast has a huge obsession with muscle machines," he admits. I stare at his hard profile for a few seconds too long. "It is a beautiful build. The clutch felt great under my bare foot. It has a massive amount of power. I feel totally cheated though, because Ryker wouldn't let me open the engine up on the high border highway so my wolf could cruise."

It was a test of whether I'd fill the silence with something stupid. "That metal doesn't run out," I said. "It's not coal, not gold, not anything you dig until the hole's empty. Pull everything you can carry out this year and there's just as much sitting there next year. Whatever Ironmaw takes from it doesn't shrink what's left. It's the same well, and there's room at it for both of us." "And what does Ironmaw get from a war fought over your family's debts." "Strength that doesn't come from blood or borders. Money the rest of the South will never see coming, for as long as that ground keeps producing, which is forever. You're not doing me a favor. You're building something that outlasts both

Their attention was on the one they called the little m*nster. “Damn, bro. The atmosphere’s so tense,” one whispered, his voice shaking. “Shut up, idiot,” another hissed back, unable to hide his own nerves. After a few minutes of waiting, the restroom door opened again. The little m*nster stepped out, wearing his favorite Iron Man shirt, fixing his messy hair. The camera angle was a bit far, so they couldn’t make out his expression. He walked with his hands in his pockets, and what they saw made them blink in disbelief. The way he moved, the confidence in his steps, it was eerily similar to their boss, Dark. Some of them blinked repeatedly, as if refusing to believe it.

​I rounded the corner into the dining room, my rifle leveled. ​Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by shards of glass that shimmered like diamonds in the red light, was a man. He was tall, thin, and dressed in a suit of matte-gray liquid armor that seemed to absorb the light around him. He wasn't holding a gun. He was holding a pair of curved, mono-molecular wire-blades that hummed with a low, lethal vibration. ​But it was his eyes that froze the blood in my veins. They were the same matte silver as Kai’s.

In the moonstones kissed quickly and tucked back beneath armor as if no one would notice. A few warriors stared out into the darkness beyond the walls, eyes narrowed, daring whatever waited out there to come closer… even as their stomachs twisted and their hearts pounded forcefully in their chests. They stood tall. They stood proud. They stood ready. Because none of them would admit the truth aloud. They were not preparing for a normal enemy. They were preparing for Lucien. For the Alpha God of War. And deep down, beneath the armor and the bravado, every single one of them felt it…