Homeless Clone Trooper Novels & Stories

"But there are conditions." "Of course there are." "You teach us," Ronan said. "How to fight creatures. How to defend against them. You become our weapon against the things that hunt in the dark." Clara nodded slowly. "And in exchange?" "In exchange, you get a home. A family. A place to belong." Ronan's expression softened slightly. "And my brother." Clara looked at Ash again. Hestood at the edge of the clearing, naked and bloodstained, trembling as he shifted back to human. When their eyes met, Clara saw terror, longing, and a fierce, unyielding love.e.

“We’ve got five minutes before this ship is fully locked down. Extraction point’s ten decks up.” “Ivy?” Noa gasped. “What happens if this version of him escapes?” Her voice came through tight, clipped. “He infects every system he touches. Think of him like a virus with a vendetta.” “Great,” Noa muttered. “A homicidal USB stick.” The clone cocked his head, studying them. “I could’ve been saved. But you always choose chaos.” “I like my chaos with abs,” Noa said. Alessio tossed him a blade.

They didn't speak to each other, they didn't call out target locations, and every single one of them had the exact same height, jawline, and broad shoulders. Noah felt his stomach drop into a cold, hollow pit. He raised his rifle scope, zooming in on the neck of the masked man fighting five feet away. Beneath the edge of the man’s black leather collar, standing out starkly against his pale skin, was a faint, blue tattooed mark: SUBJECT ZERO-THREE. Noah’s mind spun in total shock. They aren't mercenaries, Noah realized, his breath catching in his throat. They are another batch of clones... older than us, trained in secret, and working for someone else!

This was it - the end. "This is eighty percent, Zane," the main clone said, looking down at me with absolute, terrifying supremacy. The sky behind him turned into a roaring ocean of golden fire, painting him in apocalyptic light. "You are just a fragile little human trying to wear a crown that belongs to monsters. Give up." I managed to stabilize myself in the air, my broken left arm dangling limply, my right leg completely numb from the deep thigh wound. Blood loss was making my vision swim. I looked up at the ten clones, each one radiating enough power to level a city.

Troy muttered as he turned to stare out of the window with a dejected expression on his face. Troy couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to helping criminals, steal. He blamed those wicked, rabid wolves who had destroyed his home weeks earlier. It had been almost a month since those animals had killed all the people in his home and caused him to flee for his life. But for the timely intervention of their handsome but equally wicked leader, those wolves would have killed him too. Troy still saw those beautiful grey eyes in his sleep every day. Strangely, even in sleep, those eyes brought him some peace. But in as much as he liked seeing the face of the man who had saved his life in his dreams, h

He stepped off the obsidian threshold, his polished shoes clicking on the grass that didn't yet know how to be real. "But now the Founder is gone, the Source is stabilized—thanks to your little blue friend, by the way, great sacrifice beat—and we have five billion freshly 'Stitched' users ready for deployment. The 'Patchwork' is the hottest IP in the Multiverse right now." ### The Trailer of Our Lives Marcus swiped his hand across the glass tablet. Suddenly, a massive holographic screen flickered into existence above the cul-de-sac. It was a montage. I saw myself, covered in blood, screaming over Fenris’s body. I saw Silas being tortured in the Kernel. I saw Sarah’s golden light being draine

“You slept for so long that I began to worry you would never wake up.” “How long was it?” I rasp, my voice hoarse from a combination of disuse and lack of water. “Five days,” the man responds. “Who are you?” I interrupt before he can continue. “Ah. Of course. Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I am Clay Denvo. The king of the rogues,” he says as he gestures widely with his arms. “I didn’t know that the rogues have a leader,” I respond coolly.

"Purging biomass. Reclaiming hardware." From the underbelly of the massive Dreadnought, thousands of black streaks plummeted toward the earth like a meteor shower. They were "Void-Pods"—drop pods designed to deploy the Creators' shock troops: the Void-Hounds, twisted amalgamations of cloned flesh and cybernetic weaponry. "They’re trying to overwhelm the Dome's shields before the main cannon fires," Scarlett analyzed, her fingers flying across the Stellar Navigator while her jade brush painted frantic, glowing golden runes in the air. "System! Reroute all auxiliary power to the Nine-Heavens Defense Array!"

they had the same massive shoulders, the same stature, but their faces were faceless – smooth masks made of black polymer, broken only by one single, horizontal visor flash in which a red light pulsated. Instead of hands their arms ended in organic plasma blades and integrated kinetics runs. “They... they clone you,” Nova was horrified and approached one of the capsules. The red light of the unborn clone apex flickered in the rhythm of her heartbeat. ‘She build a whole army from you.” “Not from me,” Kael grumbled. He approached the central capsule, and his look was

Echo appeared, flawless and commanding, standing in front of rows of new clone soldiers and several glowing incubation pods. “People of Lagos,” Echo began, voice smooth and paternal. “The so-called rebels have stolen what belongs to the future. Two perfect hybrid children. My children. But I am merciful. Return them to me, and I will spare the western districts. Join me, and your families will know strength without suffering. Refuse… and watch as I take them by force.” The camera panned to show dozens of new clones — all with Damian’s face, but enhanced, colder. Echo smiled directly into the lens.