Gregor Clone Trooper Novels & Stories

Find Father Thomas there. ​"And you?" ​"I’m going to blow up this tunnel. It’s the only way to stop them." ​I hugged Lucas. But his body felt strangely cold. When I placed my ear to his chest, I found no heartbeat. Only the ticking sound of a clock. ​I backed away. "You... are you a clone too?" ​Lucas gave a tragic smile. "I am Prototype 16. I am the only clone into whom some of Lucas’s memories were uploaded. Sophia, perhaps the real Lucas never even existed. He was just a figment of your father's imagination."

Half-collapsed, but maybe climbable if we could make a break for it. Kieran’s eyes found mine, and he gave the smallest shake of his head. Don’t. The circle of clones stopped three steps away. Their faces were blank, eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. One of them that has my face, but older, sharper, spoke. “We don’t have to fight you.” “You already are,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. Subject One gestured lazily, and the older version lunged. I dodged left, feeling her fingers graze my jacket sleeve. The touch was cold, almost electric. Echo intercepted her mid-turn, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her back into another clone so hard they both staggered.

The lab was freezing, it was filled with the scent of chemical steam. Faith stood in the center of the room, her heart racing as dozens of clones, each with her own face, stepped out of their glass tanks. They didn't have names. They didn't have memories. They only had the silver light of the Master Key glowing in their eyes. “Faith, don't move,” Killian growled. He stepped in front of her, his body expanding as he prepared to shift into his full Alpha form. His golden eyes were fixed on the nearest clone, who was watching him with a strange, blank curiosity.

In an instant, the winged serpent clone turned into a cloud of dust and dissipated with the wind. ‘Drogo Rogers, a Horizon Peak’s Academy initiate whose power was a testament to the fact that he had been the peak’s initiate for a long time. His sword skill is probably at the level of Agility of level five or even higher!’ thought Zephyr. He began to wonder why Drogo was so h*llbent on killing him when he had never done him any wrong. It was a good thing it was only a clone he was attacking and not the real Zephyr. Were that to be the real Zephyr, he was sure he would have been seriously injured.

Doubtful with the stories I have heard about him… I watch the rest of the pack members he has brought with him exit the cars, each of them has a warrior build, making me suspicious…but it’s no longer my problem. He will never get the chance to meet me…. Tonight, I will become a rogue.

Beside her, Rafael flanked right, scanning with his weapon raised. “She’s here,” Sophia whispered. “I can feel it.” They reached a clearing—moonlight catching on something pale crouched in the tall grass. Sophia stepped forward slowly, heart pounding. And then she saw her. The prototype stood perfectly still, head tilted, studying Sophia like a mirror looking back. “You are obsolete,” the clone said softly. “I am the evolution.” Sophia narrowed her eyes. “You’re a puppet on a leash.” “She’s fast,” Rafael warned.

The clone moved like a shadow, fluid, silent, precise. Olivia reached the corridor outside the R&D vault. The clone stood at the door, trying to override the lock. It turned when it sensed her. Olivia froze. This one was different. Same build. Same face. But older. Calmer. Eyes soft. Expression almost human. “Version 6.0,” Olivia whispered. The clone blinked. “You shouldn’t be here,” it said. “You’re the unfinished prototype.” “Yes.” “What do you want?” The clone stepped forward slowly. “To end the cycle. To end the war. To end the versions.”

Alexander warned. But AX-01’s gaze shifted to him, cold amusement in his eyes. “You think you’re unique, Alexander? You think your guilt makes you human? They copied that too.” “Then they made a mistake,” Alexander said darkly. “Because I learned how to regret.” The clone’s smile widened. “And I learned how to erase.” Before either of them could react, the lights flared red. The entire facility trembled as systems activated. Mechanical arms unfolded from the walls, and the hum of power turned into a deafening roar.

"Your father was Stuart Bent Snr. He died in the bomb blast that killed dozens of Blood Crest Pack members. You are the first child of two and the only surviving one. You enjoy watching wrestling matches even though you hate the real deal. For a snack, your go-to is dark chocolate. Might I add more?" "It's really you, Alpha Seven!" Stuart screeched. I nodded. "The real one. Not the same as the impostor, got it?" Stuart shook his head slowly. "Are you really saying that a clone has been ruling over us for five years? How is that even possible?"

The pods around the room began to pulse with light — slow at first, then faster. Isabella stepped back, eyes wide. “They’re waking up!” “Get behind me,” I ordered. The first pod shattered. Then another. Then another. Figures stumbled out — malformed, enraged, their veins glowing faintly blue under their skin. Clones. Experiments. Soldiers made in my father’s image — in my image. They roared in unison, the sound inhuman. Damian shouted, “Weapons up!” Gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through glass and flesh, but the things didn’t fall easily. They moved too fast, too wild. I fought with everything I had — blades, bullets, bare hands. Each strike felt like hitting a piece of my own past.