Clone Trooper Hardcase Novels & Stories

he screamed, boots kicking uselessly against the lower cabinets. I kept the trophy pressed against his throat with my right hand, ripping open the Velcro pocket on his tactical vest with my left. Inside, I found a small, thick plastic case. It held a high-speed professional memory card, the tiny gold connectors catching the blue moonlight. I pulled it out, dropping the case to the floor. I held the small black card between thumb and forefinger, right in front of his blinking eyes. Then, I squeezed. The plastic card gave a crisp, dry snap, the microchips fracturing into tiny gray dust particles between my fingers. I tossed the broken pieces onto his chest.

Naomi’s Pov The gear room in the safehouse was cramped, lit by a single hanging bulb that flickered every few minutes. Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with vests, ammo, radios, and a mess of equipment that only made sense to people who lived in Cassian’s world. Rubio sorted through a crate on the floor, cursing under his breath at tangled wires. Mara checked her guns on the small workbench, cleaning each one with practiced ease. And Cassian…

Now my own mom want's me to have a one night stand with a total stranger, I just hate this woman. ****** Is it 402 or 403 fuck my battery is flat how will I know the lodge she sent, well let me go for 403 it sounds familiar, I opened the room staggeredly, nervous and shivered the room is damn dark. A hand held me from behind. "Good day sir" I said shaking. "what do you want?" I could smell the heavy alcohol. I'm short on words. " sir I love you " I said reluctantly. " get lost" fuck how am I gonna do this.

At dawn the next day. The System’s voice rang out in Lucas’ head. "X9 Zombie Treasure Chest." Lucas opened up the Zombie Treasure Chests with a single click. "Obtained 400 Gene Points, 400 Strength Points, 400 Speed Points, and 400 Defense Points." "Obtained Supreme Combat Gloves."

“We’ll burn their whole fucking nest down if we have to.” The fight stretched, bodies falling one after another. The rogues fought like they had nothing to lose, but we were stronger, faster, and better trained. Within minutes, the den was littered with corpses, the survivors fleeing into the trees. I stood in the center, chest heaving, covered in blood that wasn’t mine. My warriors were panting but alive. “Conrad!” I barked. He staggered toward me, pulling the tracking device from his case. It was a sleek, military-grade scanner hooked into a laptop rig. He wiped blood off the screen with his sleeve.

"We have to get to the surface." They had just reached the top of the stairs when the heavy iron doors flew open. Travis burst in, his face smudged with soot and his eyes burning with a cold, predatory light. He wasn't wearing his Alpha cloak anymore; he was in tactical gear, a heavy knife strapped to his thigh and a pistol in his hand. He stopped dead when he saw them. His eyes drifted from Sky to the mangled, bloody mess that was Caspian’s back. "Sky? What the hell happened to him?" Travis’s voice was a low growl.

Taken couldn't stand to be near normal people without killing them, so if one of us was safe, we all were. He was dressed in dark grey, with leather boots and a matching utility belt that hung at his waist. A gun sat at each hip, separated by a flashlight and a short sheathed knife. I looked up at his face and cringed. His skin was the tannest I'd ever seen, his blue eyes sharp and cold. He had a half sun tattooed on the side of his face, stretching from his right temple down to the tip of his jaw. "Where are you headed?"

He thinks Protocol 9-B is enough to keep the skeletons in his closet from screaming. He’s wrong. I crack my knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet room. If I can't walk through the front door or slip through the back, I’ll have to build a new one. I reach for the external drive Clyde provided—a hardened, encrypted piece of hardware that smells faintly of his sandalwood cologne—and plug it in. The screen flickers back to life, the Nightshade OS bypassing the local lockout.

“You made a mistake coming here.” The agent’s finger twitches on the detonator. Before he can press it, I move. Faster than they can track. I rip through the first two guards like paper. Claws open throats. A rogue leaps at me—I catch him mid-air and slam him headfirst into the wall with a sickening crunch. The remaining enemies open fire. I weave through the barrage, taking hits that would drop lesser wolves. Silver burns deep, but rage keeps me standing. I grab the agent with the detonator by the throat and crush the device in my other hand. Plastic and wiring splinter.