Wattson Apex Novels & Stories

“God, I love this gun. Please tell me we can try the bomb after this.” I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed on my wrist display, the pulsing beacon leading us closer to the Apex brothers. We moved fast, clearing another corridor. More men came—some already shifted into wolves. It didn’t matter. The Dream Blaster worked just as well. One wolf slammed himself into a wall, yelping at phantom flames. Another tore at his own leg. We finally reached our destination. Tyla has previously scooped up one of the fallen weapons. She aimed it at the reinforced door.

Then I spoke, my voice cold and clear. "Some?" I challenged. "Mr. Romano, I've spent two weeks analyzing every line of code in this system. This entire foundation is her work. The architecture. The security protocols. The database structures. Everything that made Apex successful was built by someone who signed their work 'IW.' Isla Winters, I presume?" Jaxon's face went pale. "You might want to give credit where it's due," I continued. "Because from what I can see, Apex Technologies was built on her genius. Not yours."

There were plenty of dual-income families in our neighborhood, and with their kids in their senior year, most parents simply didn't have time to supervise them. So I cleared out my living room and turned it into a completely free evening study room. Every night from seven to ten, I helped the students with every subject and even provided them with a late-night snack. The parents in our group chat praised me constantly, calling me a saint. Then Kendra Hodge, a notoriously difficult mom, moved into Willow Creek. She showed up at my door and demanded that I clear everyone else out so I could tutor her son, Zeke, who hated studying, one-on-one. I politely refused. Her attitude changed on th

All of their market values were measured in billions, and he only had $7,500 in his piggy bank. After Wilson left Wolfenden Corp., he calmed himself down and called Patrick. “Sir Allen—” “You don’t need to tell me. I already know about it,” Patrick interrupted, his voice low and grim. “What should we do now? Why would Apex Investment Partners suddenly want to join the game?” Wilson asked exasperatedly. “Calm down, Mr. Gillete. There’s no need to be so angry,” Patrick replied calmly. “The ones supporting Apex Investment Partners are the Whitmans. I’ll make a call to Michael later and ask him what is going on. You don’t do anything right now. Wait for my call.”

“…An EMP?” Giordano asked, his tone dropping instantly into a deadly serious register. “A localized pulse, or something bigger?” “An apex trigger,” Victoria drawled. She reached back, lazily accepting a thick, matte-black file from Kany before tossing it onto the scarred mahogany desk. “A device compact enough to fit inside a briefcase, but powerful enough to fry the entire power grid and digital defense infrastructure of an entire territory. You build the hardware weaponization; my syndicate handles the deployment.”

"That is how you find out which ones need to be put down permanently. But you need to move faster, Penelope. You are spending too much time on these tiny shipping disputes." "Everything matters," I snap. "Not this," he says, tapping his knuckles against his knee. "Listen to me. In three days, Apex Industries is throwing their fifth anniversary gala at the Grand Plaza Hotel. It is not just a party. They are opening the bidding for the Psionic Core project." My lungs freeze. The Psionic Core. It is the most advanced piece of military tech the human corporations have developed this year, a system that can track werewolf energy signatures through solid concrete.

Simultaneously, Wade espied Javier and hurriedly squeezed his plump self through the crowd to get to him. Zack plastered on a bright smile as he approached Wade. Fusion Electric Cars had turned down his family’s car seat order and he was hoping he could discuss it directly with Wade. He started to greet the man obsequiously, “Hey, Mr. Farlow, you’re he—” “Mr. Kersey, you’re here too?”

A creature came out, that burst every border between machine and meat. She was almost four meters tall, a monster composed of scrap, titanium and woven muscle strands, the vage had the shape of a wolf, but its head from a modified Drillhead of the Old World passed. The eyes of the creature were red-glowing sensors, who scanned us like laser beams. The monster struck a sound – a mixture of a circle hydraulic press and a deep, rolling cord. “This is an Apex watchman,” Kael whispered, and I saw for the first time since years real,

“What is APEX?” A pause. Small. Digital. Infuriating. Insufficient verified data. “Try again.” APEX appears in fragmented ARBITER communications as a parallel program classification. Available records are incomplete. “Parallel to DECAY?” Likely. Likely. Wonderful. A word wearing a tiny hat and waving from the far side of plausible deniability. Maya looks back down. The next page is worse because it says less. SUBJECT GROUP W-17 transferred from containment to external field contractor oversight. Military liaison: redacted. Civilian science cross-access: denied.

The delivery label showed some remote research weather station. The three of us pried it open together. Inside were rows of black panels and several compact metal cases. "Military-grade portable solar array…" I read the label slowly, word by word. "Comes with eight high-capacity lithium battery packs and a high-output inverter. Move! Get all of this to the roof now!" The wind on the rooftop cut through us, numbing our fingers within minutes, but no one stopped. Below us, the generator had started to sputter, faltering and dying.