Homeless Clone Trooper Novels & Stories

She probably wouldn’t recognize me… would she? "Yes," I nodded. "I really need this job. Please help me." She let out a mocking laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you even know where you are? Girls like you just being seen here would upset our clients. We don’t have anything for your kind. Lower and ugly omega." "Please... at least give me a chance to be interviewed." My voice cracked with desperation. Harrison had made sure no welfare centers or shelters would offer me food or housing. If I wanted to survive, I had to fight for every sliver of opportunity.

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.”

The destruction was biblical in scale. "You're playing with fire and wolf-blood like they're toys, original," the clone's voice boomed from right above me. His boots hovered a few inches off the ruined ground, defying physics itself. The sheer weight of his presence was making my nose bleed, the dark red drops floating upward toward him due to the inverted gravity. "We are not a hybrid with some shiny tricks. We are the end of days. Let me show you what eighty percent actually means."

Two of which looked like Warriors but the last one looked a bit different like he was the one leading them. Their armor bore the crest of a pack I didn’t recognize. "Who goes there?" one barked, his voice thick with suspicion. I dropped to my knees. "Please... I-I'm not a threat," I gasped, holding up my hands. "My name is Tyla..I…" "A rogue," the second snarled, drawing his sword. "She reeks of blood and deceit." "Please.." I sobbed, clutching my belly. "I'm pregnant…I need help..My baby…please."

Arrienne’s POV The snow fell heavier now, thick flakes swirling like the chaos inside my mind. We took shelter inside an abandoned ranger station deep in the woods—Jace had found it years ago during a mission that no longer mattered. Everything from our past was unraveling, bleeding into the present, and now… I wasn’t sure who the real enemy was anymore. A clone. Someone who looked like me, moved like me—was created using me. And now she was being used as bait.

It could not think and would only execute orders. If David was there, he would undoubtedly have to obey David. If David was not there, he would obey the person who broke the seal. David had set it in advance so that the only thing the clone could do was execute orders. Then, it would dissipate automatically when the time was up. The clone faced the void in the distance. A lot of dead stars were floating in front of him, each of which exuded the aura of death. One should not underestimate these dead stars. There used to be life on them too.

Titus would lead his clan further south where a large number of refugees are held and provide relief for them as he is the voice of reason out of all the clans and he is the 1st humanoid high glaive to be born. While their youngest Astaroth shall lead his newborn clan to New Hope and aid their progenitor though the responsibility is high. Tyrannox showed compassion to his brother entrusting him with proving the High Glaives are no monsters and will stand true to the rules made by Faith and the kingdom. Astaroth saluted his brother as they began their assault while hundreds upon thousands of bio pods began raining down upon the planet. At the same time at the ruined defenses of New Hope city,

It took dying for me to finally see her for who she really was. The officer pulled out his phone and played a video for Sophie. In it, I was in the lab, clutching a wound on my stomach, forcing myself to speak through the pain. "Sophie, if you're watching this, then I'm already dead. "I made a clone for you. He'll stay by your side. He's exactly like me. "I want you to be happy. Always." The video cut to my clone. He stared coldly into the camera and said, "Sophie, I spent five years by your side. And in that time, you've harvested my organs over a hundred times.

"Trust the scar. Trust the girl who stayed in the tank beside you while the droids tore the skin off your back. Trust the mud, Dante." He flinched at the name. The word Dante seemed to strike him like a physical blow, a password that bypassed the security protocols of his reset brain. He looked at his scarred forearm, then at my hand—raw, bleeding silver, and trembling with the weight of forty-two dead clones. With a low, guttural curse, Thorne dropped his pulse-blade. He grabbed my hand.

The old-fashioned way is bodies. Clone bodies out of the flood. Residual bodies along the rail with knives and stolen guns. Tame bodies dragging half-awake rack survivors toward relay exits. My body, too hot and too pregnant and too useful, standing in the middle with a burned hand the city has learned to mark. The first clone reaches the gallery edge. Sarah shoots its elbow before it clears the rail. Renn’s fighter beside her drives a pry bar through its shoulder and levers it backward into the water. Another clone climbs over the falling one without looking down.