Batman Clone Novels & Stories

I'm staring at another Cameron, what the hell is going on here? "What are you doing here Bane?" Cam yelled at his clone. Bane just smirked with a sinister look in his eyes, it actually made me terrified but I wouldn't let him see that. How the hell, did Cam know this guy. "Cam who is he?" I saw Cam looked upset after I asked that question. "You didn't tell her about me, brother?" He's Cam's brother, why didn't he tell me. Is this what he thought I would hate him for.

It is a pity, Cuzo is not playing and really planned on dominating the world with his fellow companions and planned on making him join them too. ‘You are just a clean freak!’ Clone who had experience Gabriele expressing his disgust to his glittering dust shouted internally inside of him. So furious, he really wanted to punch that smiley face that even though the original face was hidden well, still excludes a strong arrogance and superiority that they could not just ignore at will. But because Clone doesn’t want to destroy what his young master was trying to build with this guy, he really held back his impulse well. It’s great too as he knows, in his opinion secretly inside his heart, that t

There still existed a huge gap between him and the abilities of a half-immortal. Despite Adrian's current injuries, Baldwin could not tell for sure what Adrian might do if the latter was forced into retaliating. Baldwin did not dare to risk anything. He had meticulously sent this clone to gather energy and blood for his true self and break the seal, not to engage in life-or-death battles with others. Baldwin glanced cautiously at Adrian, whose smile seemed to alleviate the tension in the atmosphere. "You are as strong as ever, Adrian. Ending Horra's life was quite the feat."

“We don't stand a chance, okay?” Jones snapped. “He's getting closer to the pack. I have to stop him.” Jace snarled. “Stop him?” Jones chuckled softly. “You just recovered and if you go on for a fight, then believe me, I doubt your chances of you defeating him. I have been trailing him down ever since then and he is just like you, powerful and I have one name for him, “killer clone.” He doesn't miss a shot and once he's in motion, there is no stopping until you are dead.”

But at the center stood a throne made from melted relics — a mockery of what faith had built. And upon it sat her. The clone. The same face. The same posture. Only her eyes — white, glowing faintly — gave her away. Amara stopped ten meters away, flanked by Luca and Dante. The soldiers held their fire. The clone tilted her head. “You came.” Amara’s voice was steady. “You wear my face. Speak carefully.” The clone smiled faintly. “I am you. The perfected version. The one who doesn’t hesitate to save this world from itself.”

Once, the darkness teased him while they were strolling in Taguig, told him that he had a ‘type’, making it seem like all the men he chose – and even the women he looked at – looks exactly like ‘him’. The same fluffy blackish-brown hair, the same soft pleading eyes, and the same rounded cheeks. That was awfully unfair. That wasn’t the darkness’ fault. The darkness only looked the way it did because he had given it that shape. He chose what he wanted to see, and he wanted to always see a shape of ‘him’. ‘Do you remember,’ he asked, ‘when only you were just darkness and shadows?’ ‘Jett,’ he chuckled as he replied in a deep voice, ‘I am the night. I am batman.’

“I need something and we also have new information about the demon.” “Well it’s not really new information. I’ve always known that about demons.” “Lupa? Focus.” Claud said “For starters, I might need a new cloak. You know, because my last one got ripped?” “You mean the one you stole from my closet?” “Why do you even own a cloak?” Claud asked. “You never wear it.” “Maybe I like having it around in case I want to go around in the night fighting crime like Batman.” “Batwoman.” “Guys, concentrate.” Lupa said. “So Mrs. Tara can u help him with a new cloak?”

“She’s been cloning more than me.” A soft hiss drew their attention. The door behind them slid open, and the clone stepped in. His shirt was torn, bloodless despite the fight. His face was calm again. “You can’t run from perfection,” he said. Liam stepped forward, shielding Ava behind him. “You’re not perfect. You’re empty.” The clone tilted his head. “And you’re obsolete.” He moved first too fast. Liam barely blocked the first hit, but the second landed across his jaw. The fight was brutal, silent except for the sound of fists meeting flesh and the hum of the pods vibrating from the impact.

A man sat suspended in the fluid, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in a slow, artificial rhythm. He didn't look like Dominic. He looked like Silas Thorne at the age of thirty—the predatory curve of the jaw, the arrogant set of the brow, and the long, elegant fingers that had signed the death warrants of a million "donors." "A clone," Tommy whispered, his voice cracking. "He wasn't just trying to live forever through the blood. He was building a replacement." "Not a replacement," a voice boomed, not from the pod, but from the speakers embedded in the obsidian cube. "An archive."