Wolffe Clone Trooper Novels & Stories

he said, not through his voice, but through some kind of telepathy that he didn’t know he could use until now. Nico knew that he should get his friend off him. But how could he not struggle when he was also secretly enjoying the strong rhythm of the heartbeat closest to him? Goodness, if he let himself get horny, he would have rolled his eyes back in pleasure right now. But no, this was his friend, not some mindless thrall that he could play with as he pleased. “Hey man, stop it!” he said as he made an effort to push the man-wolf back. The werewolf was certainly stronger than him, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t do anything. “Get a hold of yourself!”

He rose with brutal force, clawing across the clone’s chest, each strike heavier, more desperate. The fight dragged on — claws tearing flesh, teeth ripping fur, both staggering, bloodied but unyielding. The cavern echoed with the sound of wolves locked in a duel for dominance. At last, Aeron saw the falter. The clone’s strikes grew sloppy, his stance wavering. Aeron seized the moment — slammed him against the stone, fangs sinking deep into his throat. The clone convulsed, then went limp. Aeron ripped away and let the body fall, panting, his muzzle dripping red. The imposter twitched once, then lay unconscious, defeated.

From the fast-ropes descended the Vanguard. At first glance, they looked like human operators. They wore high-performance tactical gear, cameo suits that looked almost identical to the ones my father had made for us. They moved with a synchronized efficiency that made the Bloodhounds look like amateurs. The Vanguard didn't stay human for long. As they hit the pavement, they shifted. They were wolves. But as they engaged the Rejects, their "Specialist" DNA became apparent.

Five shimmering, human-shaped silhouettes of moving dust materialized in the center of the bay. Leo pushed himself up from the slush, wiping a streak of blood from his lip. He pointed his good hand at the nearest silhouette. "There! Kill them!" Three massive, half-starved wolves launched themselves from behind the fuel pumps, hurtling straight toward the shifting clouds of dust. The lead Weaver raised his cryogenic rifle, but a deformed rogue slammed into his midsection. Claws scraped violently against carbon-fiber plating. The Weaver stumbled backward, his camouflage shorting out in a spray of blue sparks. His silver mask flashed into view an instant before a second wolf crushed his knee jo

It was a vessel. "You thought you purged the Dark Moon from Astrid?" the Clone’s voice distorted, dropping into a guttural, demonic register. "Aegis found the remains. They fed it. They grew it." The Clone began to shift. It didn't look like a wolf shift. Bones cracked and elongated in the wrong directions. Extra joints snapped into place. Its fur turned a greasy, matted black, and its snout twisted into a jagged, multi-rowed maw. It was a nightmare version of Victor’s wolf, twice the size and leaking a foul, black shadow from its pores.

The clone lunged. It moved the way lightning moves, there and everywhere, claws extended, hands already morphed into something sharp and dark that caught the light wrong. The real Asher caught every strike with one hand. Just his left. He barely shifted his weight. Around us, the few surviving servants who’d pressed themselves into corners made the mistake of staying too close when the clone let loose a roar. I don’t have adequate words for what that sound was. It went through the walls. It went through me. The low-ranking wolves nearby crumpled, hands over their ears, faces twisted in agony. Then they, too, came apart.

“Kael, no!” I cried as the first capsule’s tank glass with a ear-powdering Klirren completely barst. The boiling, black nutrient liquid swept over my boots, while the first faceless creature in the room stepped. The red light in its Visor flash fixed us instantly. Kael started the creature at the same moment. He rammed his massive body into the Clone, before he could lift his plasma blade. The filthy, fleshy Wumms of the impact echoed from the concrete walls.

When they saw movement ahead they surged forward into a great leap onto the nearest rogue, forcing him to the ground. They clamped his shoulder in their maw as they twisted and slung him forcefully into a nearby tree trunk. They heard a cracking as he hit and dropped him as they surged towards the next rogue in their line of sight. This one saw or heard them coming and quickly dodged away from the warrior he was engaged with to be able to counter the incoming attack. As Troi swerved to follow his movements, a sharp pain on their ankle slowed them slightly. A smaller she-wolf had latched onto their back leg and was pulling hard.

To clear Danjuma's surprise and ease his worry, I decided to tell him why. "Rogues don't just attack. According to the books I have read, they are usually broken and hide most of the time. Someone must have put them upon to this, to force the hunters to attack werewolf packs and I want to know who." I said, and Danjuma understood my reasons and nodded. Akio finally arrived with the chain, and he tied up the rogue. They wanted to call Gavin, but I stopped them. It was my catch anyway. I would decide what to do to them. The bastard had shifted back to his human form. I picked up my phone and called Oscar.

The house looked like a room for aiding the wounded. “They were attacked by the brown werewolves you’re saying,” Convel explained. “You are fighting your kind?” It is still new to me, I never heard werewolves fighting each other. “Aren’t your kind doing this too?” Alarick asked without looking at me, he is looking at the werewolves who look like patients being treated by healers. “Our tribe is full of hunters and we never had internal issues.” I proudly said as I am trying to figure out why they brought me here.