Clone Trooper Hardcase Novels & Stories

That was a dangerous game but Eric was never one for following road rules or any rules for that matter. Music played in the background, there were quite moments when Leona laid her head on the window and simply watched as they passed each car, each tree, each traffic light. Times when he stole glances from her, times when he just wanted to stop driving and cuddle up to her. She was wearing his leather jacket, they hadn't expected it to get cold but Eric always kept a jacket in the back. It was a bad habit, he threw everything in the backseat. Leona fought with him about it but it was a lost cause. In this case it had actually came in handy. He kept whining about how his lip piercing had clos

I raised my head just as the first zinc-plated enforcer dropped from the darkness of the ceiling girders. He didn't use a parachute or a cable. He landed directly on the central concrete walkway, his four-toed magnetic claws punching two-inch craters into the solid masonry with a concussive bang that shook the marrow in my shins. His jaw was split wide open, the silver data-ports beneath his zinc teeth spitting a thin stream of blue lubricant as his three-layered blue quartz lens spun wildly inside its socket, trying to lock its tracking solution through the dense, white sulfur smoke.

"You'll run. You always run. But you'll never outrun legacy. Goodbye, Jeffrey." The screen expired. I glanced over at Cassie. "We have to find the backup—there's always a mirrored drive." She was already making her way to the opposite wall. "Here!" A panel protected a server case. Cassie tore it open, and we removed the drive from its cradle together. The building shook. "Go!" I shouted. We ran down the corridor. Lights exploded. Pipes burst above us. Flames were at our heels by the time we reached the hatch, snapping like the breath of a dragon. Cassie tripped. I pulled her through the hatch as the inside of the ship caved in behind us.

Hardin said laughing “ Just drive.” Casper said closing his eyes They parked the car a little bit far from the warehouse and walked. When they reached the place some guys were drinking alcohol and laughing . Hardin used his night vision goggles. “ I think they are only the two of them here . That's a truck, put one in there and I'll put the others.” Casper said “ When you become the boss , put it in their body, just do the easy one .” Hardin said taking the tracker from his hands

Boxes stacked in corners. I start searching, not even sure what I'm looking for. My eyes catch something I move closer. It's a black case tucked behind some paint cans on a high shelf. I drag a step stool over and pull it down. It's heavy. Metal. Locked. But the lock is cheap, flimsy. I grab a screwdriver from Cade's toolbox and jimmy it open. The lid pops. Inside, nestled in foam padding, is a...gun. My breath catches.

; large, glass-walled tanks filled with the same amber gel they had escaped from. They weren't coming to kill the twins. They were coming to harvest them. Seven tossed a disruptor grenade. A wave of blue static rippled across the road, and the lead rover’s electronics fried instantly, the vehicle swerving and slamming into the rock wall. "Get in! Shut the door!" Seven yelled, sprinting toward them as the second rover began to offload tactical models. Maya slammed the iron door shut and threw the heavy deadbolt just as a hail of bullets sparked against the outside of the metal.

Victor Lang The safehouse was a concrete crypt buried beneath a defunct Brooklyn textile factory, its walls sweating damp and secrets. I sat at a folding table, the titanium drive, my drive, chained to my wrist, its encrypted heart pulsing under a single LED lamp. The air stank of mildew and gun oil, the only sounds the hum of a portable generator and the distant drip of a leaky pipe. My tux was gone, replaced by black fatigues, my face bruised from Kane’s fists, but my mind was a scalpel: sharp, cold, ready to carve.

he says. The words hit harder now. Because products do not choose who dies either. People do. I close my fist around the casing until the edge bites my skin. Then I move. The nearest clone comes for my stomach. It comes with a white restraint cuff, not a blade. I cut its hand off at the wrist. Clear fluid splashes the grating. The child wakes angry under the webbing. No burn. I keep it banked for now. I use the casing like an anchor in my fist, brass and old hate against silver and new hunger.

Big bastards wrapped in patched armor One of them carried a net gun. I narrowed my eyes at it. Military-grade It was too advanced for gutter raiders. It waa probably ripped from some pre-Fall armory and passed through a dozen bloody hands before ending up with him. Lucky me. They spread out through the wreckage for a trace of me. On the other hand,I adjusted my grip on the pistol and counted It was now or never. The first man stepped past the rusted shell of the truck. His head turned slightly scanning left.

Their rotors chopped the humid evening air with a violent, aggressive thwup-thwup-thwup that silenced the local wildlife more effectively than Kazi’s shotgun blasts. Commander Kazi stood on the rocky, blood-stained bank of the Njiro River, watching them descend. His exoskeleton was still smoking, the hydraulic fluid leaking from a severed line in his thigh. The chest plate, once polished steel, was now a pitted, orange ruin where Malik’s entropic touch had accelerated a century’s worth of rust into a single second. He looked like a battered, ancient tank left to rot in the rain. "I didn't call for reinforcements," Kazi growled into his helmet’s internal comms, his voice a distorted rasp of m