The Clone Who Loved to Fight — M.G. Lewis

Cole Young wasn't a lucky boy.

His adoptive mother, Sarah, had loved him even more than her partner Anaïs had hated him, but he was on his own when they disappeared one night and never returned.

But he was fourteen, and he could take care of himself. He had the precog sparklies, and nobody could beat him. He could see the punches they were going to throw, or the knives or guns they were going to pull. He could take them out, and it was fun to watch their shocked, stupid faces when he did.

He took what he needed from the Corporate Citizens, the Cozies, and not one of them could stop him.

He and Teddy and Jeff had been friends, but as they got older, he wanted to fight his brother clones, his brones too, especially Teddy, because Teddy thought he could take him. Part of him wanted to punch it out with Teddy whenever they ran into each other. He could feel the rage rising in him, feel the excitement pumping through his veins, and he knew Teddy was feeling it too. It was exciting, because they both could see the sparklies.

But they were twenty now, and they were all having the same horrible headaches. The pain began behind his eyes and grew and grew until all he could do was roll on the ground and scream like a feeb.

He needed help, and he had no one to turn to. For the first time in his life, he needed help that the freaking sparklies couldn't give.There were supposed to be older brones, but they were strangers. So why would they help him?