War Machine From Iron Man Novels & Stories

"Now begins the simulation of War. Specimen 0-Alpha-J... Panni Saint... welcome to Season 6, Episode 3: The Siege of Neo-Pattaya." Standing on the deck of a black warship that was rising through the clouds was a man who looked exactly like Jinyan, but he was wearing a suit of heavy, iron armor. "Brother," the armored man said, his eyes glowing a cold, lethal red. "It’s time to see whose 'Love' is stronger." (Watch out for the next chapter)

Their seven kids, however, must have been looking forward to it. Each one, from age seven to nineteen, had two guards with them. The younger ones had three. If Adrian, or even Dexter, felt looked after, they were witnessing a whole new level. I had left all such thoughts behind as I pulled on an iron rod that was sticking out of one side of a large, load-bearing wall. I had a tape measure in my hand. Not the electronic kind. Manual. I had a metal reader in my back pocket; with it I could tell fake or low-quality iron, copper, or any other metal-based material. But that was not on. Not yet.

The hair on my body stood on end, and I growled in its direction. “Who are you? Show yourself.” Not a single attempt was made to reveal their identity, and just as I was about to invade their hiding spot, A tall, lean man emerged from the bushes and glared at me with hatred bleeding from his eyes. “You're good. Most people wouldn't know I was there till it's too late. It's no wonder they call you the queen of war...” My heart rate spiked when I felt more enemies surrounding me, and a low growl left my lips as a creepy smirk appeared on his.

Brand awoke with a startling sense of déjà-vu. He was face down in sand and a large fur boot lay in his field of vision as he blinked. Faen! This time when he tried to push up, however, his arms would not cooperate. Iron manacles were locked around his wrists. Heavy chains rattled behind him as he struggled to turn over. He felt the pinch of the blade and smelled the coppery tang of blood as a rivulet ran down his neck. He froze, panting.

Warmonger Chassis Type 13 [A] - Primal Machinations “Planetcracker” Omniresonant Greathammer [S] - Primal Machinations “Primdahl” Round Shield [A] - Mechanica Dharma “Retribution” Mass Driver Pistol [A] — Each of them were installed with the hyperionization submodules that Raijin had put together, which helped protect their armor and shields from Imperial disintegrators. And so they easily raised their shields in front of them, and happily shrugged off any incoming fire from the ships they charged towards.

Had it not been for the declaration of war befra's group would have thought they had come to make friends. The leader wolf of the group of assassins looked straight into Ezra's eyes. “What do you guys want to do?” Windy did not hesitate but directly asked the question she wanted to know. Windy's response to that question was a loud laugh from the enemy. Their leader still looked at Ezra sternly; he didn't laugh at Windy or react. "Didn't expect that the one who was called the great warrior of the tribe had such a stupid subordinate?" "Who do you say is the fool?"

A few cross-country vehicles opened a path through the city and spread out in all directions. Vroom, vroom, vroom! The sound of car engines revving was heard. Adrian sat quietly in one of the cross-country vehicles. He gazed at the well-developed Novemton through the car’s window and felt emotions well up in his chest. Meanwhile, a strong wind was felt and soldiers showed up around him one by one. “Mantishire’s Battle Warrior Steel and his troop reporting. Please instruct us, sir!” A man, dressed in a military outfit, said respectfully when he appeared before Adrian.

Weapons racks line the concrete walls, heavy with custom silver daggers, war-axes, and military-grade assault rifles. A tall, broad-shouldered wolf with scarred skin and grey-streaked fur descends the iron catwalk above us. Maestro Vance holds a heavy silver broadsword in his right hand, his scent smelling heavily of gunpowder, blood, and burnt cedar. “I saw your transport pull up from the security feeds,” Vance grunts, his piercing grey eyes locking onto me as he steps onto the concrete floor. “You’ve grown broader since you survived the Whitmore slaughter, Chika.”

Leo (Tank) roared, his voice carrying over the ringing in everyone's ears. The giant man stepped forward, clad in the matte-black "Juggernaut" heavy assault armor they had looted from the Mobile Command Center. The armor made him look like a walking monolith. He reached out and snatched the smoking rifle from the hands of a trembling Ironhead ganger who looked barely out of his teens.

One of the heavy iron doors flew off its hinges, hitting the cobblestones with a ground-shaking impact that set off alarms in the distance. Dust rose in a choking cloud. Through the dust, a rhythm started. Thud. Thud. Thud. It was the synchronized marching of boots. Heavy, steel-toed, military boots. Dozens of warriors poured through the broken gate. They wore armor of dark grey steel, bearing the sigil of a mountain peak. They moved like a terrifying machine. And at the front of them, riding a massive war-beast that looked more monster than horse, was a woman.