#not to be confused with the other clone commando sev

[toschestationed]

Summary:

Hardcase gets a good look in the mirror for the first time since his injury, and the injured troopers return from the Jedi temple, ready for their first session of rehab.

Chapter 11:

“I look like a di’kut.” Hardcase complained, looking down at his chest and the weird half-shirt the new medic had whipped up for him. Apparently it was supposed to compress his scars in a way that improved healing, but it didn’t match his skin tone and it looked like a weird inside-out one-sleeved crop-top, like he’d seen the Commander wear once.

Kix rolled his eyes. “It’s not meant to be comfortable; it’s meant to help you heal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hardcase pouted. His movement restrictions post-surgery had ended a few hours ago, and he was itching to try getting out of bed, even just to the fresher, but not if he was looking like this! “Can I at least wear something over it?” He asked plaintively just as Patch was walking by.

“Eventually, yes.” Patch interjected, nodding. “But most standard blacks won’t fit over all your bandages and the compression shirt, and I’m worried about civvies causing a reaction with your immune system. More than 25% of your body’s natural barrier was damaged, and that isn’t something you bounce back from easily.” 

He gave Hardcase a sympathetic smile before continuing, reaching inside a nearby closet to grab something, making a noise of success before returning with a single arm-crutch and a belt with some kind of energy shield projector.

“What do you say we get you out of that bed?”

“Finally!” Hardcase exclaimed with a grin, already trying to push himself up before a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Hold on, kid. This is a little more complicated than you’re used to. We’re going to do what’s called a Log Roll, to avoid jostling your back. You’re already on your side, which is the first part, but I’m going to help you scooch a little closer to the edge of the bed, yeah?” Patch asked, helping him move into the correct position.

“Good. Alright, next I’m going to put a hand on your hip and under your shoulder, and on three, I’m going to have you swing your legs down so they’re hanging off the bed. I’ll be lifting your upper body to help you sit, so help as much as you’re able to.” He explained, waiting for Hardcase to nod in acknowledgement before counting down. 

“3, 2, 1, lift!” Hardcase felt himself being rotated upwards, his shaky limbs only doing part of the work. His head spun dizzily as he sat up unassisted for the first time since his injury.

“Easy there, vod. We’ll give it a few seconds before we try anything more.” Patch kept one hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady until the world stopped tilting.

“I’m good.” Hardcase said, already breathing heavier than usual. If this was what sitting up felt like, he was starting to dread what standing would do to his overtaxed body. 

Checking his vitals briefly before continuing, Patch took out the belt from earlier. “This is called a gait-belt. It’s been modified so it won’t put pressure on your injury, that’s what this little shield emitter is for, but I’ll be wrapping it around your waist like a belt, and it’ll give me an extra handhold if you start needing help. Gotta protect my back, you know?” Patch added, giving a little stretch as Hardcase’s eyes caught on the faint spattering of gray hairs on his head.

Hardcase snorted, lifting his good arm obediently as Patch put on the gait belt, “You’re not that old. Maybe the Captain’s age at most.” 

Patch shrugged with a grin. “Medbay adds five years, and my old squadmates added another three.”

“Is that true?” Hardcase smirked.

Nodding seriously, Patch continued. “Sometimes I swear I was the only sane one in my batch. One of my batchers was literally named “Gev” after being told to pack it in one-too-many times by our trainer.”

“Ha! I think Fives’ had a batcher who got a name like that.” Hardcase grinned, accepting the hand-crutch as Patch put it in his right hand. “Uh… shouldn’t this go on my injured side?” 

Patch shook his head. “Nope. That’s a common mistake, but your crutches are supposed to move at the same time as your injured side, and it increases your base of support by having it on the opposite side as your injury.” 

He hummed for a moment. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t matter quite as much for you, since your upper-body is what we’re most concerned about, but that’s the general rule. Same as last time; I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to lift, and if you feel steady, we can make our way to the fresher. If you feel like you’re going to fall at any time, we can sit right back down.”

Hardcase nodded, bracing himself. Thankfully, with Patch’s support, standing was tricky but still doable, although he was panting heavily by the time they made it to the fresher. Hardcase breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down, the shower chair a new addition to the space.

“You good, vod?” Patch checked his vitals for the third time since they started moving, but thankfully he was holding steady.

“Yeah,” Hardcase cleared his throat, still catching his breath. He looked around the fresher for a moment, noticing for the first time a large mirror on the wall, reflecting a pale, drawn vod with tattoos matching his. Red, angry scars gripped his left shoulder like claws, and part of him was afraid to look at the worst of them, which were still hidden by his compression shirt and a number of bandages, so he forced himself to look away.

“... You can’t avoid it forever, you know.” Hardcase startled at Patch’s gentle voice. 

“Yeah, I know…” He sighed, grimacing at a spot on the wall next to the mirror. There’d been a point during his recovery where he decided that he just didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know how many surgeries he’d go through, how long he’d be stuck in medbay, or how long until he could take his heavy gun to the range again. He didn’t want to know what his scars looked like, what his actions on Umbara had turned him into, and that, more than anything else, terrified him.

But Hardcase was never one to run away in the face of fear, preferring to charge in headfirst before he had a chance to think it through, so he accepted the little handheld mirror as Patch handed it to him, and allowed the medic to scooch him closer to the mirror so he could see the extent of his injuries. 

The moment his bandages were removed, his breath left his lungs like a punch to the chest. His familiar symmetrical tattoos were shriveled in some places and entirely gone in others. He could see where skin grafts had replaced the worst of the burnt tissue, but large portions of his back looked like krayt dragon scales. Hardcase could only imagine what it had looked like right after Umbara. He gave a choked inhale; he felt sick.

Vaguely, he became aware of Patch alongside him, rubbing his good arm in quiet reassurance. “Want me to grab Kix to keep you company?”

Hardcase shook his head, taking a moment to gather himself and just breathe. “No, ‘m okay…”

Eventually, the initial shock passed, and he turned back to face the medic, commenting, “I still look like kriff.”

Patch gave him a sympathetic smile. “Yep, you do.”

Hardcase spluttered a surprised laugh. “Y-you’re not supposed to agree with me!”

Chuckling slightly, Patch shrugged. “Maybe not, but you went through kriff to get here, vod. Only makes sense that your body would show it.”

“... yeah, I guess you’re right…” He looked back at his reflection one more time. His body looked different, but his eyes, his determination and mandokarla, were still the same. His scars were the mark of a survivor, and that’s what he was, regardless of his ability to stand on his own quite yet.

Looking back at Patch, his shoulders a little higher than when they’d been slumped at his sides, Hardcase asked, “So, what are we doing first?”

Patch helped Hardcase get to the fresher, and talked him through that endeavor with fairly minimal difficulty. It helped that his dominant hand was relatively uninjured. With Patch’s permission and careful supervision, Hardcase was allowed to take a short water shower. The medic managed the showerhead, making sure the lukewarm water never sprayed his burns directly, instead cleaning his uninjured skin and running down the scarred parts of his back. Hardcase himself was responsible for keeping himself upright, and listening to the medic give suggestions about cleaning himself without bending forward too far, using a long-handled scrub brush, and cleaning his uninjured side when he still had trouble crossing midline.

Finishing with a quick sonic to ensure that his left side was clean, Hardcase was flagging pretty significantly by the time he got back to his med-bed. Laying on his side with a tired groan, Hardcase felt like he’d just finished a campaign. 

“Get some rest, Hardcase.” Patch said as he finished changing his bandages, giving his arm a small squeeze. “The rest of the recovering troopers will be getting here tomorrow. If you’re able to sit up by yourself for thirty minutes, you should be able to join our first group session then.”

Hardcase smiled at the thought, eyes already closing. Through a yawn, he murmured, “I’ll look forward to it, doc,” and before long, his breathing deepened into quiet snoring.

Giving Hardcase a small smile, Patch fished out his datapad, making some notes as he planned for the next couple days. He had a lot of work to do.

_____________________

The returning troopers took longer to arrive than Patch first thought. Half of them had been staying at the Jedi Temple’s Halls of Healing, and the other half at Coruscant Medical Center, where Patch had been stationed previously. 

There’d been a bottleneck at the transport bay, apparently, with the landing pad managers unused to shipping out such a large number of troopers still needing mobility aids, hoverchairs, or even stretchers. A few of them still needed to stay in medical, but some were cleared to go back to their bunks, or find a new bunk, if their new limitations made it difficult to climb up to their old ones. Thankfully, the medics had compiled a list of troopers willing to switch bunks with their injured vode, making the process a little easier.

Hardcase himself was pretty excited to have some new brothers to chat with as he practiced moving around the medbay with his crutches and a modified hoverchair (the normal ones pressed against his back too much). He could barely do more than hobble at the moment, with Dogma close behind in case of a fall, but he already had plans for a hoverchair race once he got a little better at it.

He still tired pretty easily, but he felt a little more at-home now that his scar wasn’t the only one in the room. Dogma looked a little nervous at the sudden influx of strangers, keeping pretty close to Hardcase for most of the day, but didn’t protest when he got dragged into an emphatic conversation between Hardcase and a fellow heavy-gunner, and before long, it was time for the group therapy session.

Making their way to the new rehab room, Patch had set out a variety of chairs, leaving space for those in hover-chairs, and offering each trooper in attendance a pudding cup, making Hardcase extremely grateful that he was off diet restrictions.

Once everyone had gathered, Patch cleared his throat, getting their attention before starting. “Alright, thank you all for coming. I want to reiterate that this group session is completely optional; you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I’ve found that it can often help to talk with vode who have gone through similar things as you, and it’s often a lot more fun than doing stretches in a room alone.” This garnered a few nods and grunts of agreement, so Patch continued.

“We’ll be starting with a brief introduction, how long you’ve been with the 501st, and anything else you feel like sharing, medical or otherwise. I’ll go first.”

Patch cleared his throat, nervous despite himself as he continued to speak. “My name is Patch, I’m a temporary transfer from the 104th. I work as a rehab specialist, and before this I was in training for a year on Coruscant.” 

His ears turned a little red as he continued, willing to be vulnerable but still scared of what it entailed. “I-I have aviophobia; I was stranded in a dying escape pod once, and my brain still gets a little jittery at some stuff shipside, but it’s a lot better than it used to be. I wear my armor pretty much all the time, unless I’m sleeping, so if you see me avoiding those fancy medic grays, that’s why.” Patch gave a self-deprecating grin before nodding that he was done, getting a pat on the back from Kix, who’d decided to join today’s session.

The room was silent for a long moment; Kamino trained soldiers, not skilled orators, but eventually, a trooper in shiny armor raised their hand and began speaking. 

“Hi, my name’s Sev. I joined the 501st about a month ago; Umbara was my first real mission…” A few trooper’s winced; definitely not the ideal first battle. 

Sev paused briefly, an unreadable expression on his face as he continued. “Sev’s short for “severed finger,” by the way.” At this, the shiny gestured to his right hand, which had its 3rd through 5th fingers partially amputated.

Patch inhaled sharply as the group froze in tense silence. Who in their right mind would name a shiny that way?! The silence only lasted for a second though, as “Sev” started laughing and then cackling. “Ahahaha– you, pfft!” Tears started forming as he chortled at their reactions, prompting a confused chuckle from the rest of the group. 

Finally, Sev had calmed down enough to explain himself, still laughing occasionally. “Heh, Sev’s short for Seventy-seven. Lighten up, vode.” A grin threatened to split his face as a unilateral groan made its way through the group, one brother pausing to smack the shiny on the arm.

Eventually the exasperated sighs died down and he continued his introduction, a small smile still on his face. “I’m here for the obvious, along with some general rehab for a leg injury. I, uh, used to be right hand dominant, so I’ll be learning lots of new ways to do things. Apparently finger amputations don’t merit prosthetics unless I wanna chop off the rest of my hand.” He made a face at the last part.

Patch nodded, still sighing internally at the kid’s particular brand of humor. “Alright, thanks for sharing, vod’ika. Anyone feel like going next?”

They continued in this manner for a while, some choosing to speak and others choosing to listen, only giving their name. Finally, it was Dogma’s turn, and he had no idea what to say, or even if he was welcome. He’d been invited by Patch, and hadn’t found a reason to refuse, but still flinched visibly when his name was called. It took a few reassuring nods from the group, but eventually he decided to speak up.

He cleared his throat anxiously, hands shaking as he curled in on himself a little bit. “My name is Dogma… I’ve been with the 501st for about three months… I, uh, wasn’t injured on Umbara, exactly, but I’ve been confined to medbay since then, so I’ve been helping out here for now…” Dogma kept his hands in his lap, refusing to look up even as the next trooper began speaking.

While most of the younger troopers shrugged in confusion at Dogma’s story before moving on, a few of the older ones got a protective look in their eyes as they watched him shrink into himself. As a younger trooper himself, Dogma likely had no idea what he was implying, but Dogma’s actions on Umbara hadn’t been broadcast extensively thanks to Rex’s discretion, so outside of eyewitnesses, very few troopers knew about Dogma’s situation. One veteran trooper, Nax, patted his knee, giving him a reassuring look from his seat next to him as the group continued.

After everyone had finished speaking, Patch had them get into smaller groups, helping each other with a variety of stretches and exercises. Dogma ended up helping Hardcase and another trooper with a below-knee amputation, although Patch was there to give him advice for being mindful of any remaining swelling, or concerns with positioning. 

While a number of troopers had already been fitted for their prosthetics, many still had to wait until their residual limbs were completely healed, and wouldn’t continue shrinking from earlier swelling, making their prosthetics fit badly. Sev, for his part, busied himself with a packet of hair-ties, stretching and strengthening his partially amputated fingers, occasionally flicking one at the troopers around him by “accident.” It wasn’t long before most of the troopers had finished their assigned exercises and started to meander out of medbay or to their assigned medbeds.

“Hey, vod.” Nax’s quiet voice was gruff as he addressed Dogma, now that most of the other troopers had left. The older trooper had an amputated foot, and had been relatively quiet during the group session.

Dogma looked up from his datapad, surprised at being addressed. “What?”

Nax shuffled slightly before speaking again. “Just… if you ever wanted to talk to someone that’s not a squad-mate or a medic, I’ll be here a lot, so...yeah.”

“Uh, thanks…?” If Dogma was confused before, he was even more so now.

Grumbling slightly, obviously not used to this kind of heart-to-heart, Nax muttered, “It’s just– I-I had a squadmate once, who was confined to medbay for a while, like you are now, and that can get pretty lonely. A-After Teth, he… needed more support than we could give him, at least those of us that were left… It was hard, for a while, but eventually he improved; started smiling again…” Nax went quiet for a little bit, face uncharacteristically emotional.

“What happened to him?” Dogma asked before he could stop himself.

At that, Nax gave Dogma a small grin. “He’s still kicking; an absolute pain in the shebs most days. Singing in the sonics at 0500 and giving me trouble to make sure I get to medbay on time. It took a while, but things got better, and he found things to look forward to again; we both did.” Nax gave him a meaningful look, at which Dogma made a few realizations.

Dogma blinked in shock, stuttering. “I-I’m not jareor!” Sure, his self-esteem was in the pits, and his motivation to take care of himself was minimal even before Krell happened, but that was entirely different.

Nax made a noise of surprise, sensing Dogma’s genuine confusion, and started to rethink his initial assessment. Even if the vod’ika wasn’t intent on eating his blaster, Dogma was still clearly struggling; anyone could see that. 

“So you’re not.” Nax replied, tone reflecting gruff agreement, believing Dogma's statement. “But you don’t have to be jareor to lean on your brothers for support, you know?” Dogma bit his lip, conflicted, before reluctantly nodding in agreement.

“Speaking of,” Nax continued, wincing slightly. “These crutches weren’t made for comfort. Mind helping me to the nearest medbed? I’m due for a check-up.” 

“Uh, sure!” Nodding near-frantically at the change in topic, Dogma was quick to help Nax make his way to a med-bed. Making to leave, Dogma paused for a moment, a thought on the tip of his tongue while Nax eyed him patiently.

“...Nax? Thanks.” Dogma mumbled, refusing to look up at the older trooper.

Nax simply nodded, quiet nature unthreatening as Dogma retreated for the time being. Struggling or not, he’d make sure none of his brothers felt alone.

[lonewolflupe]

It's done - this is my last Delta Squad Week entry, filling the 14th and thereby last prompt! Thanks for sticking with me, and I apologise for spamming your dash with Delta Squad ficlets today and yesterday! Event masterlist will be up soon (:

DELTA SQUAD WEEK | @deltasquadweek | Day 7: I Love You ART: Day 1 | Day 2 | Scorch Day | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 FICS: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Summary: Delta, give me an explosive solution; Scorch is asking the real questions here (AO3) Tags: banter, brotherly love, fluff (SFW) Words: 717 Featuring: RC Boss, RC Scorch, RC Sev, RC Fixer

“Boss?”

Having shore leave as a clone in the Grand Army of the Republic was a rare luxury, especially when you were a commando trained by elite Mandalorian warriors. And although Delta Squad was one of the last true pods out there, which he was very grateful for, Boss would have appreciated some quiet time to catch up with much needed sleep right now.

“Hmm?” came his disgruntled hum, slowly opening his eyes to look Scorch’s way. He could have known his brother was not ready to drift off just yet, since there was simply no stop to his thought process. Scorch laid in his bunk, one knee pulled up and his other arm dangling down the side of his elevated bed. He was staring at the durasteel ceiling right above him, as if he would find his answers there.

“What are you supposed to say to someone you care about?”

Taken slightly aback, Boss’ face wrinkled into a confused expression, since this was the last question he was expecting from Scorch. He rolled his eyes and tugged his blanket over his shoulder as he addressed his brother: “Shut up and grab some sleep.” But instead, Scorch shot upright instantly, balancing his torso on one elbow when he threw a response at the squad leader, faking his gratitude. “Awww, very affectionate, leader-man. But I meant to someone special.. Like, a partner.”

Before he could come up with another response, Sev’s low voice came from the bed below Scorch: “Keldabe kiss them.” Boss should have known the squad’s sniper would pick up anything, even when he was supposedly asleep. Seemed like Fixer was the only one getting some rest at the moment. Scorch curled himself around his bed’s edge, facing Sev upside-down. “I don’t think they’ll appreciate the headbutt-” he started, but Sev didn’t let him finish his sentence. “Affectionately,” he elaborated, and with the word, he kicked his foot against the bunk above him, making Scorch struggle to keep himself from crashing down.

After he regained his balance, he threw an obscene hand gesture at Sev, whilst wittingly returning the sharp bantering: “Oooooooh, I didn’t take you for the affectionate partner.” The cooing tone in Scorch’s voice was not appreciated by Sev, who tossed his blanket from his body, preparing to get physical with his brother. “Let me show you my affection for you,” he sneered, but seeing this coming, Boss was already intervening.

“Stay put, Sev,” he said sternly, “I’m too tired to get up to keep the two of you apart.” Sev grunted in annoyance, but he wouldn’t go against his sergeant. Scorch shot a soft yet teasingly ‘prickly’ at Sev, granting him another dangerous look from Sev, but averted his attention to 38 again. “Boss, some input?” With a deep exhale, Boss relaxed a little, since a physical altercation had been averted – for now, at least. “You could toss in some Mando’a. I bet it would be effective; especially with the ladies.”

With his own eyes closed again, Boss didn’t see the twinkle in Scorch’s eyes, caused by his suggestion. “Oooh I do like the sound of that. Like cyar’ika..,” Scorch tried, staring into the distance without focusing as he spoke the word, as if daydreaming about someone he could call his sweetheart one day. Boss chuckled softly, before giving his own favourite: “Meshla.” It came out like a longing hum, but it drowned in Scorch’s gasp of awe. “You’re a natural, Sarge!”

“I love you.”

Boss frowned when he heard the suggestion from the bunk on top of his, realising Fixer was awake after all. Scorch seemed similarly confused. “What was that?” he yapped, searching for Fixer’s silhouette in the dimly lit barracks. “I love you,” Fixer replied with a sigh, already regretting he had joined the conversation. “Thanks vod, I love you too?” “No, di’kut. Say ‘I love you’ if someone is truly special to you.” “So I’m not special to you?” “You are – on a completely different level.”

A loud snort came from Sev’s bunk, breaking the rising tension. Scorch simply grunted, before addressing all of them: “Well, you are all very special to me, and I love y-.” And simultaneously, in like-minded harmony, the other three Deltas interrupted him, shooting at Scorch: “Shut up.” “Can it, Six-Two.” “Stow it, Scorch.”

Dividers by @/orangez3st

I was tempted to give Sev the upper bunk, out of sniping habits - but I needed him to kick Scorch's bunk, so I apologise for military inaccuracies

Taglist (read to join): @aknightreaderr @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @kotemf @thecoffeelorian @star-wars-lycanwing-bat @bixlasagna @dreamie411 @heidnspeak @earlgreyci @cyaretra @bulletproofskoll @alor-ika @feralferrule @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig

[swbbb6]

Regarding Scorch. A tangent…

I did not enjoy that ending for Scorch. I didn’t understand the use of Scorch to begin with, but I kept it to myself, because I foolishly wanted to believe it would/could make sense somehow.

But that didn’t happen! So it’s time for a fixit; a look into what (I think) it would take for it to make sense 😅

For starters, I don’t think it was a mistake to use a member of the Delta Squad; they are often regarded as a precursor to The Bad Batch, so we know they’re extremely capable commandos. Even more deadly than Arc troopers. It could have easily been a great parallel between the two special operations teams.

Having said that, if it had been up to me, I would have used Sev instead of Scorch; reason being, (aside from Scorch canonically having a big personality that was completely absent from his tbb portrayal) Sev went missing on Kashyyyk at around about the same time order 66 was given. Which begs the other question; if you’re going to use Scorch, where was the rest of Delta Squad?

When Sev went missing, the rest of Delta Squad wanted to go back for him, but they were ordered to leave him behind. In all the confusion that was order 66, it would have been a convenient time for the Tantiss scientists to round up as many clones as possible, from as many varied backgrounds as possible. I know that sounds like a stretch, but it’s the fact that the rest of Delta Squad was ordered to leave Sev behind that’s suspicious to me (when considering what Palpatine’s men were secretly doing to clones). A member of the famous Delta Squad would be a big get for them.

Moreover, it was something Crosshair said that stuck with me: when he told the rest of The Batch about the experiments being conducted on Tantiss, and the CX program, he said he couldn’t be brainwashed because he’s defective. But then why did they keep trying? Why did they keep torturing him? Especially after they got ahold of Omega the first time, why not kill Crosshair at that point, if he really was useless to them?

My theory is, the stronger the victim, the longer it takes to fully break them down. I could imagine Sev would hold out longer than the regs, and depending on how thorough they had to be, it would also explain why this once super-badass was reduced down to (a completely incompetent) Henchmen #1.

I’ve seen it mentioned that the light behind Scorch’s helmet didn’t go out when he fell, so he could’ve survived; I’m a little skeptical tbh, but sure, I’ll allow it. Go ahead and give The Bad Batch their happy ending (they deserve it!) but then (if we continue to say it was Sev and not Scorch), they could have given us a post-credit scene, or a May The Fourth/Revenge Of The Fifth teaser of the rest of Delta Squad finding Sev. Delta Squad is very self-contained, and isolated, even more than TBB, which would explain why it has taken them so much longer to find their missing brother; they don’t have the same resources TBB has (Rex, mostly).

So many people have asked “why include Scorch at all?” “That wasn’t Scorch!” “It literally could’ve been anyone else!” And I agree! I think with more background, a lot more questions could’ve been answered in a way that actually made sense, for both The Bad Batch, and Delta Squad, and made the fans happy in the process!

Not to mention maybe we could’ve gotten another Republic Commando game, or even a spin off series for Delta Squad??

[arcsimper5]

Actions and Consequences - Chapter 1 Resolute

Delta Squad are forced to seek help from within the fleet for their injured Jedi, Jerra. Mixing with the GAR general is... an issue.

Pairing: OC!Jedi Jerra x Delta Squad Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, some blood, language. Rating: M (Explicit content in later chapters, minors DNI)

Kix huffed as the hangar medical alert rang out into the med bay, the low buzz of it echoing through his skull.

It had been a long day already, the Resolute in orbit above Pravada 9, a large group assault on droid production bases having been ordered by the GAR while data was gathered by a specialist assault team.

Looking at the chrono, he frowned in confusion; the last of the teams from the 501st and 212th had returned hours ago, with no reports of lost ships or units. Everyone deployed from the ship had been accounted for.

So why, then, was the medical alert sounding if all troops had returned?

Grumbling in annoyance at the inevitable extension of his shift, he grabbed his medkit and made the short journey to the hangar, looking around for his new patients.

There were a few groups of troopers milling around, but none that seemed to need attention. One lot of four were playing sabacc on some nearby crates while another small gathering of softshells were working on a gunship which had taken quite a bit of damage in the incursion.

None of them seemed to need his attention, his annoyance growing further.

“Anyone call for a medic?” he asked loudly, several heads snapping in his direction.

A murmuring response of ‘no’ and ‘not me’ came from the troopers, Kix letting out a growl of annoyance.

“Then who the kark is wasting my time by calling me down here?” he snapped, some of the sabacc troopers exchanging concerned looks.

He was about to head back to medbay and file a false alarm report when a gravelly voice called across the hangar, a large, imposing clone in distinctive armour appearing from the end of a gunship, a large sniper rifle in his hands.

“I am,” the trooper called, the entire hangar silent now, watching the interaction.

Kix raised an eyebrow, looking the trooper up and down. He could tell by his bucket, which was still firmly in place, that he was a Commando. His bulk on its own was intimidating, but the paint job on his armour completed the picture, the white plastoid flashed with red on his legs, arms and midsection, what appeared to be a bloody handprint covering the area around his visor, giving the impression of it being fresh and dripping.

“You’re not 501st or 212nd,” Kix huffed, the sniper letting out an amused huff.

“What gave it away? You a medic or not?”

Kix stared at the Commando for a moment, caught between actions.

“You’re not on my treatment compliment,” he stated firmly, the sniper staring back. Even under his visor, Kix could practically feel the coldness of the look.

“But you are a medic,” he growled in return, “and we need you.”

“For what?” Kix questioned automatically, the larger clone almost certainly rolling his eyes.

“A fifth for sabacc. What do you think, di’kut?”

Kix was about to offer a sharp retort when another Commando appeared behind the sniper, his posture communicating his impatience.

“Sev! What the kriff is taking so long?”

It only took the other man a moment to register Kix’s presence, his size matching this so-called ‘Sev’, though his bucket was off, exposing a frustrated expression.

Even though he looked like a clone and his hair was slightly longer than regulation, the Commando armour he wore, mostly green with a white flashed chestpiece, he gave off the air of someone much more superior.

“You, medic! We’ve been waiting on you! Get your shebs back to the ship!”

Kix frowned, his frustration growing.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he huffed, “but I’m assigned to the 501st. You can’t just turn up on a republic fleet ship, call a medic and demand medical attention without registering first.”

“Oh, look, the little shiny doctor doesn’t know who we are,” Sev chuckled lowly, the other Commando rolling his eyes and glaring at him.

“Can it, Sev. This is about Jerra, not you.”

“Look,” Kix sighed, shaking his head, “let me call the on-call medic. I’m sure they can…”

“No time!” the unidentified Commando cut him off, shaking his head, “Our Jedi is injured. Now are you gonna do your job or not?”

As Sev chuckled, Kix felt the urge to decline simply on principle, but hearing there was an injured Jedi piqued his interest, not to mention his innate need to help was kicking in. Whether it was in his genes or in his heart, he couldn’t fight it, relenting with a long suffering sigh as he trudged towards the commandos.

“Ugh, fine! Just… register after, okay? I need to record all treatment.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” the Commando nodded, waving behind him in a gesture for Kix to follow.

“What Battalion are you even from?” Kix asked as they weaved through the gunships, most in various states of battle damaged, towards the rear of the hangar.

“Battalion?” Sev rumbled, his tone amused, “That’s cute.”

“We’re Delta Squad,” the other clone responded tightly. “I’m Fixer, this is Sev. Boss and Scorch are still on the shuttle with Jerra, our Commander.”

“Delta Squad?” 

Kix froze in place for a second, Sev almost walking into him, barely dodging his stock still form. 

“The Delta Squad? The ones who ran the demo job on Geonosis during the first battle of the Clone Wars?”

“History lesson later,” Fixer urged him, reaching back and grabbing his arm, the medic stumbling a little as he was pulled along, “first, medic stuff.”

“But… You guys are… You’re a myth! You’re not… You’re not supposed to exist!”

“And yet, here we are,” Sev chuckled, a hiss sounding as he reached up with one hand, unclipping his bucket and pulling it off.

Kix took in his features, surprised. Again, although he looked the same as the rest of his brothers, Sev had a certain… severity to him, as obvious as it would seem.

Two large scars ran across his face, one down from the top of his hairline to just below his cheekbone over his right eye, the other across the same eye, from the bridge of his nose to the curve of his face. It looked oddly like a crosshair.

His hair was thick, tight curls cut short, shoots of grey showing through. Light amber eyes stared back at Kix, a wicked smirk tilting at chapped lips.

“Got an issue?” he grinned, Kix immediately shaking his head.

“N-No… Kriff… Rex is not gonna believe this…”

Turning to Sev, he hesitated for a moment. “Is it true the four of you took back an entire republic cruiser from trandoshan pirates on your own?” 

Sev smirked, raising an eyebrow at the medic. 

“Is that what they tell you?” he teased, the low tone of his voice sending an uncomfortable shiver down Kix's spine. 

“Like I said,” the other commando huffed from in front of them, “history lesson later. And to be fair, it was mostly Boss.” 

Within moments, they were free of the field of battleworn gunships, the path to a beat up looking attack shuttle appearing. Another Commando was waiting outside, this one with a white chest piece, grey and gold covering his arms and legs.

“Took ya long enough!” he yelled as they approached, his voice somehow softer than the average clone’s, “What were ya doing? Teaching him how to practice medicine?”

“Can it, Scorch,” Fixer snapped, releasing Kix’s arm as they approached the ramp, Scorch’s face scrunched in an unimpressed expression.

His hair was much longer than the others, thick curls pulled back into a loose braid at the back, a few ringlets falling around his face. He leant against the ship with his arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning Kix suspiciously.

“How’s she doing?” Sev quizzed Scorch, the expression on the slightly smaller clone’s face faltering a little.

“In pain,” he replied quickly, looking pointedly to Kix, “Boss is with her. He’s been pushing bacta, but you know how she is with supplies.”

“You,” Sev grunted at Kix before nodding to the door, sharp eyes locked on him, “inside.”

“Going, going!” Kix assured him, drawing in an attempt at a steadying breath as he pushed through the doorway of the ship, the insides dimly lit.

It was a modest set up in the shuttle, a bunk room off to one side, labelled as such on the door. A small refresher was marked at the back, top and rear gunner mount positions visible from the main gangway.

Looking down towards the rear, Kix soon found his target, watching curiously as he crept closer.

The Jedi, Jerra, was sat on one of the navigation seats, her left hand supporting a limp right arm, face twisted with pain as she let out a hiss.

She was human, at least she appeared to be, warm skin over tight features. Her eyes seemed to dance with a green light in the darkness, focused on the Commando in front of her, the clone kneeling as he looked over her knees, one of which was exposed and covered with a bacta patch.

Her long dark hair was pulled back into multiple braids that trailed down her back, pulled together with a gold band. The clone in front of her was helmetless, hair short and mussed, curls spilling onto his skin haphazardly as he rested on one knee, hands gentle as he rubbed bacta in a nasty looking cut on her leg.

Visibly, it seemed to be her only other urgent injury, save the small cuts that littered her face. They looked like shrapnel wounds, ones that Kix was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

“Not long now, mesh’la,” he grumbled lowly, his accent thick and low, a warmth to it that made Kix raise an eyebrow, “we’ll get some meds into you.”

“I can wait,” Jerra replied with a forced smile, adoration clear on her face as she looked the commando over, letting out a huff of laughter, “you shouldn’t be wasting bacta on me, Boss, I told you…”

“Hush,” Boss ordered, his voice stern, though his smile betrayed his tone, “bacta can be replaced. You can’t.”

A moment stretched between them, intimate and deep, simply sharing a connection, and for a second, Kix felt like he was intruding on something private.

“Uh… Sorry to interrupt,” he managed, his voice cracking a little as Jerra’s intense gaze turned to meet him, Boss’s smile fading entirely as he stood back up to full height, “I’m Kix, the medic from the 501st.”

“About time you got here,” Boss grunted, stepping back to allow Kix access to Jerra, “does ‘rapid medical response’ mean something different in the fleet?”

“Boss,” Jerra chastised the Commando gently, Kix trying his best to keep his expression set as he approached, the large clone’s white and red armour adding to his intimidating presence, “leave him be. It’s not like we were announced.”

“Still,” Boss huffed, his eyes softening a little as Kix placed his back at Jerra’s feet, offering a weak smile.

“Sorry about them,” Jerra grinned softly, “they can be a little demanding. I hope they weren’t rude to you.”

“No more than any of my other vode,” Kix smiled back, earning a huff from Boss. “Now… the others mentioned you being in pain?”

His eyes travelled over her, noting the bacta patch on her leg and the way she still held her arm.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

“Big ass explosion!” a shout came from the doorway, Scorch leaning around it, watching intently, “Got caught in the shockwave. Uh… sorry, again, about that.”

“Out!” Boss yelled, stamping towards the ramp, his face set. Jerra simply rolled her eyes and let out a breath of laughter, focusing back on Kix.

“We were infiltrating one of the maintenance facilities while the battle distracted the main forces,” she explained as Kix reached up, flattening his palm for her to lower her arm onto it, “our objective was to take it out and get intel on the newer battle droids they’re pushing out. Things got a bit heated, more security than intel thought there’d be, and I got pushed off a walkway by one of the breach blasts. Boss caught me before I fell all the way down, but it jarred my arm some.”

Kix hummed as he listened, eyes now intently fixed on her arm as he rolled the fabric covering it up as gently as he could. Her robes were a dark brown, the tunic underneath faded greens and greys, all tattered and smelling distinctly of explosive residue.

“Lucky escape,” Kix smiled, Jerra wincing as he tried to straighten her arm, hissing in pain. In his peripheral, he saw Boss turn sharply at the noise, trying his best to focus. 

The skin around the joint was purple and black, bruised badly. The swelling was quite severe, but there seemed to be no obvious deformation.

“I can’t tell from just looking, but there’s some bruising and irritation around the joint. Did you hear a pop or crack when you were caught?”

Jerra hesitated for a moment, looking towards Boss, her expression caught.

“I need you to be honest,” Kix explained softly, “or we might miss something that could cause complications in the future. We can heal whatever it is, I promise.”

With a long exhale, Jerra closed her eyes and nodded, something close to shame echoing across her features.

“It dislocated when Boss caught me,” she murmured, gaze averted to her feet, “and I popped it back in. Hurt like a jawa-kriffer, but it let me keep going.”

“Mesh’la…”

Boss’s call cut through the silence, the pain in his tone apparent.

“You should have told me… I’m…”

“Don’t,” Jerra frowned back at him, watching cautiously as he approached, “you did what you had to. I’m alive, we’re all here, that’s what matters. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry.”

“Damn right I’d worry,” Boss glared back at her, “It’s my job to look out for you all!”

“And you did!”

“But you got hurt…”

“Instead of falling to my death!”

Boss considered her words for a moment, hovering over her as Kix looked between them, the tension growing.

“Well, uh, there might be some small fractures in the elbow joint,” he explained quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation, “but I’d need to do a scan to be sure. It might also be good to look at the rest of your joints too, mainly your shoulder. A force like that can dislodge things or pull other muscles. It’s nothing that a bacta wrap won’t fix overnight, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“No,” Boss growled, Kix’s gaze darting to Jerra as she rolled her eyes, letting out a huff, “we have orders to be back en-route by oh-four-hundred. We’re only here for medical attention, resupply and refuel.”

“And you’re getting medical attention,” Kix replied sternly, releasing Jerra’s arm back to her as gently as he could, gathering his pack and standing, “and I’m telling you she needs more treatment.”

“We’re not leaving without her.”

“Then you’re not leaving at all,” Kix frowned, gesturing at Jerra. “If you want to deny her treatment and possibly aggravate what is currently a minor injury, be my guest. But if it is broken, bone fragments could shift and damage both muscle and tissue, not to mention the pain will only build. She needs rest and recuperation, and as a medic, I am able to pull individuals from active service for that.”

“Need a hand, Boss?”

Sev’s deep voice echoed through the ship, two other faces also peering in, their expressions stern.

It was clear that they were willing to step in if there was an argument, Jerra huffing in frustration as Kix stood his ground, shouldering his bag.

The Commando and the Medic stared each other down for a long moment, Boss’s eyes searching Kix’s face.

After what felt like an eternity, Boss let out a frustrated huff and stepped back, allowing Kix to pass.

“One rotation. No longer,” he growled, looking back to Jerra, “and one of us is always with her.”

“Boss,” she protested, quickly cutting off her own reply as he glared back at her.

“That’s an order.”

“I outrank you,” she shot back, hissing again as she stood up, following Kix as he made his way through the ship, though she made no further argument.

Boss looked her up and down, putting out a hand against the durasteel wall on the other side of the galley, blocking her path while the medic disembarked, his intense gaze finding hers once more.

“Boss,” she breathed again, swallowing hard when his free hand moved to her face, tracing his knuckles down the side of her face, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should have told me,” he grumbled after a moment, the guilt in his eyes making her chest constrict. “I hurt you.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded him, stepping into his space, tucking her head under his chin.

Taking another deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tenderly, taking the upmost care not to put pressure on her arm. “Better broken than a pile of goop on the floor of a maintenance facility.”

Boss let out a soft chuckle, his expression softening once more. Pulling away slightly, he looked down at Jerra, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll make it up to you, cabur,” he promised, voice little more than a whisper, “we all will.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she teased gently, shivering at the sensation of his breath ghosting over her cheeks, “it’s been too long, Boss.”

“I know, cyare,” he smiled, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat, “but what was it you taught us about patience?”

“Gar chayaikir,” she moaned softly, growling as he pulled away, “you’re going to pay for this.”

“Hey, riddurok’la, your medic is getting twitchy!” Scorch shouted from the doorway, leaning in with a sly grin on his face, looking over the scene with amusement. “Gar me'dinuir, vod?”

“Mir’sheb,” Boss growled in response, moving towards the door, Jerra following with a blush on her cheeks. “Come on then, my lady,” he teased bowing as he reached the door, “your medic awaits.”

*-*-* Translations: Di’kut - idiot Shebs - Ass/Butt Mesh’la - Beautiful Cabur - Protector/Guardian Cyare - Beloved/One who is beloved Gar chayaikir - You tease Gar me'dinuir, vod? - You share, brother? Riddurok’la - Married Couple (rough translation) Mir’sheb - Smartass

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00627: Scorch

Kix glanced up at the familiar sound of the medbay doors opening, frowning as he saw two commando troopers walking in. Their distinctively styled helmets gave an air of uniformity, but the designs painted on them spoke of very different personalities.

The commando wearing the helmet marked with red, jagged lines - almost suggesting a handprint - was half-supporting, half-dragging another commando with a simple, gray-green helmet painted with white and yellow details. Kix studied both new arrivals, but couldn't find any visible injuries on either.

"What happened here?" Kix asked, already starting toward the men.

"Scorch here blew himself up," the red-painted commando answered, with a motion of his helmet that clearly said he was rolling his eyes. "Di'kut."

"I did not!" the injured Scorch said defensively, turning to address Kix. "I had a minor disagreement with a wall."

"Yeah?" the red-painted commando asked, "What were the arguments?"

"Whether or not the blast from a thermal detonator plus my own fabulous aim would make the wall go 'boom'," Scorch replied, clearly grinning under his helmet.

"Congratulations on winning your argument, sir," Kix said dryly, already promising himself to blow up the Resolute and everyone inside before he would let Scorch and Hardcase meet. "Let's shed the armor and see how much damage that wall's rebuttal caused."

The two commandos completed their half-walk, half-drag journey to the first bunk in the medbay and Scorch leaned up against the mattress, stifling a pained groan. The red-painted one, obviously fed up with his brother's antics, unceremoniously lifted and deposited Scorch on the bed.

"Come on, Sev!" the commando complained loudly. "You know I'm injured and delicate."

"It doesn't count as an injury if you've always been stupid," Sev told him. "I'm going to report back to Boss."

"You're going to leave me here, alone and hurt?" Scorch asked dramatically. His only reply was the medbay door closing behind Sev. He shook his head and told the door, "Well, that was rude."

The door seemed unsympathetic.

Kix cleared his throat, wondering if he should crank the scanner high enough to scan for brain injuries, when Scorch turned back to him. He pulled off his gray and white commando helmet, grinned, and stuck out a hand. "Scorch."

"I gathered," Kix replied. "I'm Kix."

"Good, I'm in the right place," Scorch said, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief as he began stripping off the rest of his armor. "But what is the best medic in the GAR doing attached to the 501st?"

"The best medic," Kix repeated skeptically, scanning the now de-armored commando.

"Oh, yeah. I've heard the stories," Scorch told him, eyes wide and sincere, though they sparkled with an edge of barely there mischief. "Granted, mostly from the pilot on the way here, but still."

"Troopers like to talk. And as for why the 501st…" Kix let some of his constant fond exasperation come through, "no one gets in more trouble or hurts themselves in stranger ways than them."

"And you like to treat them," Scorch summed up, the look on his face more intense than the situation called for. Kix was on-edge before the commando spoke again. "Makes you feel powerful, doesn't it? Makes you feel like you're better than them, more than just a regular trooper."

"Makes me feel like I've got one more living brother," Kix corrected sharply.

Scorch raised his hands in a gesture speaking of an innocence that his sparkling eyes belied. "Hey, I had to make sure you weren't one of those power-trip troopers."

Kix shook his head and silently went to gather the supplies he would need to treat his patient, unwilling to continue an insulting conversation. However, since the commando had started it… He turned to meet Scorch's eyes. "If we're asking uncomfortable questions, let me ask one."

Scorch made a beckoning gesture with his less-injured hand, as if he were inviting Kix to continue.

"Why do you sound different from every other trooper, but look exactly like the rest of us?" It was something he had been wondering since Scorch took off his helmet, but he had been too polite to ask. At least, until the commando had accused him of treating men for the ego boost. As if it did wonders for his ego to be vomited on, covered in blood, to need to help his brothers to the 'fresher, to hold their hands as they took their last breath-

"I'm an excellent mimic," Scorch answered, using Kix's own inflection. Kix stared at him steadily until he continued in his normal offbeat voice. "Sometimes, a situation calls for a voice to be different so we don't sound like normal clone troopers, no matter how much we look like them. Delta Squad is full of differences. Boss has a thicker accent than most native Mandalorians, Fixer has worked to speak the most pure Basic, and Sev's vocal cords are damaged. Me, I just talk this way because I want to."

"Yeah, you can never meet Hardcase," Kix muttered to himself, fighting a shudder at the ridiculous accent the 501st trooper would be sure to put on as a result.

"What was that?" Scorch asked.

"I said, oh excellent mimic, that you've bruised your ribs, pulled a hamstring, and most of the left side of your body will be covered in bruises for the next few weeks, maybe less if you can take a couple of days to rest up." Kix frowned down at the datapad showing the scanner's results. "You managed not to break anything, which is - frankly - a miracle."

"Commando armor," Scorch told him with a sharp rap on his chestplate, wincing as the movement strained his injuries.

"Bruised. Ribs." Kix repeated, biting the end off each word so that the commando would be sure to understand him. "I'll issue you some pain meds, but the most you can do to improve your recovery time is to sleep as much as possible and stay hydrated. Most importantly-"

Kix cut himself short as the medbay door opened and Scorch instinctively turned to see the new arrivals, hissing in pain at the twisting motion. "-don't twist or move your body in unusual ways," Kix finished, giving a perfunctory salute to the commando sergeant who stepped up to the bed.

"How is the patient?" the sergeant asked. Despite Scorch's overly casual manner, Kix had to admit that the commando had given an accurate description of his squadmates and their voices. This one with the thick Mando'a accent must be Boss.

With a shrug to answer the sergeant's question, Kix told him, "Not much I can do, actually."

"Told you those thermal dets would kill you some day," the rough-voiced Sev said to Scorch with no small amount of satisfaction.

"What? No," Kix told him, nettled by the idea that a patient of his could die from such minor injuries. "Scorch is covered in bruises and he pulled a few muscles. Nothing life-threatening, but they aren't injuries I can do much for. I'm issuing pain meds, but he could stand a few days of bed rest, sir."

Boss nodded while Scorch looked horrified. "I can't stay on bed rest!"

The last commando, the non-accented Fixer, sounded irritated by his squadmate. "Six-Two, you can't just choose which orders to follow. If Three-Eight says you're on bed rest, that's where you'll be unless you want a court-martial."

Scorch looked pleadingly at Kix. "I could die from my injuries, right, Kix? Even Fixer wouldn't try to boss around a dying brother."

"Er... " Kix trailed off, glancing around at the group of commandos. "Bruises have a notoriously low fatality rate, Scorch."

"I think his vocal cords may have been damaged," Sev observed. "Could you order a total lack of speaking for the foreseeable future? For medical reasons?"

"We'd make it worth your while," Fixer wheedled.

"Is it too late to say I don't want any visitors?" Scorch asked, though even that sounded like a joke.

"We probably should leave," Boss agreed, cutting through Sev and Fixer's gloating with a simple reminder of, "Lots of reports to write."

"Ugh. Really, sir? For a self-inflicted injury?"

"I was having a good day, Boss."

Before he left, Boss patted Scorch gently on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay, Scorch. Rest up or we'll leave you behind on our next mission."

"Kix?" Kix glanced over at the commando sergeant, one brow lifting in silent question. "Make sure he rests. Sedate him or strap him down if you need to."

With one last threatening look in Scorch's direction, Boss left the medbay. Kix silently held out the pain meds for Scorch, passing him a cup of water at the proper time.

"You're good to sleep now," Kix told the commando. "If the pain gets bad again, let me know and I'll increase your dosage."

Scorch nodded and had just settled back against the pillow when the medbay door opened and Kix's heart nearly stopped. He walked briskly to the front of the medbay, making small pushing motions at the new arrival. "Hardcase, get out of here. You're fine."

"You don't even know what's wrong yet," Hardcase pouted.

"Hardcase?" Scorch asked, sitting up with a manic interest gleaming in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Hardcase asked, leaning to peer around Kix's shoulder. "Whoa, a commando! I heard you guys get to deal with more explosives than anyone!"

"You ever juggled thermal detonators?" Scorch asked, giving Kix an innocent shrug when the medic glared.

"No!" Hardcase said, pushing past Kix to perch by Scorch's bedside, wearing a look of utter fascination.

In only moments, the two were swapping stories, each trying to outdo the other while both seemed impressed by the other's exploits. Kix groaned. Force willing, he wouldn't have much to do with Scorch after this, but he already expected a wild number of injuries in Hardcase's near future.

---

A/N - First off, I want to apologize to... well, just everyone. For those who are not familiar with Republic Commando, you're probably a bit confused about who these guys are and why they're here. I read a fic featuring the characters in a minor role and proceeded to inhale everything I could find with them in it. For those who are familiar with Republic Commando, I would like to apologize for any errors in characterization, background, etc. Sidebar: if you know of a good fic featuring Delta Squad, please share the name of it with me!

Please reblog this work! It helps me grow my readership!

[countessofbiscuit]

Danger Close

Fi/Sev, Teen, 1000 words. An expanded Triple Zero scene. also on Ao3.

. . .

1100 hours, 384 days after Geonosis, commercial zone, Quadrant N-09: agreed meeting point to open negotiations with interested party

“I want my HUD back. I want my enhanced view,” Darman said, predictably, after Etain had crossed the plaza for the sixth time.

Fi shifted his weight from one hip to the other. His elbows belonged to the permacrete now, after twelve hours in sniper situ. “But you get to wear face camo instead. Makes you feel wild and dangerous.”

“I’m wild,” came a gravelly voice. Sev. He was behind a roof balustrade under a pile of discarded sheeting. “And then I get dangerous,” he added. “Shut up.”

Sev had had no hesitation applying the nexu stripes. Acted like he wore them under his fekkin’ bucket as a matter of course. When the orders came, he’d slashed the paint across his face in the gruesome pattern of his helmet. And, without invitation, he’d given Fi the same treatment.

“Copy that,” Fi said cheerfully, his face warming at the memory.

How Sev’s hand had seized his neck, fingering around his tightening throat and his tingling spine.

How Sev’s angry mouth had curled in concentration, after he’d ordered Fi to close his eyes and hold still.

How Sev had singled him out, apparently, not sharing his stick with anyone else.

It was so distracting. Fi forced his rested eye back to the Verp’s scope, before he burned his hide in sheer white-hot botheration. Before he gave his position away with the bright smile that slapped into his face every time he thought about holing up somewhere tight with his Delta opposite.

It was so confusing.

Fi clicked his back teeth twice to exit Sev’s open comlink channel. “Miserable di’kut,” Fi informed everyone else, to set the record straight.

“Don’t mind him,” Scorch said, quickly. Always quickly, like Sev’s existence needed blanketing over. Or protecting. Scorch was at walkway level about fifty meters west of the meeting point, lying in a disused horizontal access shaft. “He’ll be fine once he’s killed something.”

What would fine look like, on Sev? Fi had to wonder. The man generally looked ready to braid Corellia’s hells into a breakfast pastry.

The plaza persisted in being boring.

With nothing else to occupy him, Fi’s brief life flipped before his mind, in a desperate effort to sync with everything he’d seen the past two weeks.

The replay always snagged around the episode at that Corrie spaceport. When he’d smothered a grenade with his body. Just ... jumped on it, because he was wearing Katarn and the civvie cops weren’t—because that’s what Bralor’s ball games had taught Fi, even if Sergeant Kal had never been able to stomach the exercise.

Fi wore that moment on his armor. It was a receipt for a drink he’d yet to enjoy.

It generally went unnoticed. Every commando had been trained to take it to the plate and just keep on going. No fanfare, no fuss. Everyone had their scrapes. Fi rarely got asked about his because his brothers offered the story first. This is Fi. He likes to bounce on dets, so keep yours in your pockets please. We’re quite fond of him.

Until Sev.

Sev had done a double-take when they stepped into the bright Fearless hangar. He’d eyed Fi’s dented chest with an expression Fi couldn’t read. Like he knew a blunt explosion profile when he saw one. Fi’d expected him to crack something about Omega being least and last in Procurement’s opinion, too.

But he’d only frowned and asked, “Who did that to you?”

“Did it to myself,” Fi had said, smilingly, feeling his mouth hijack his discomfort. “I've got a self-destructive streak. Mess with Atin again and I’ll show you.”

Then Scorch intervened, throwing arm around Sev’s shoulders, like he knew the pressure settings of Sev’s jaw. “Now, F’ika, don’t threaten Sev with a good time.”

The fisticuffs Fi kept bracing for never came. Instead, Sev slowly closed the fraught gap between them with every touch to Fi’s dent. Made contact with him there in the Dha Werda. Gave him a civil smack there in lieu of thanks. Even patted him there without the armor to guide him, when Fi had scored in that shirts-and-skins game of bev’rugam.

Fi was as broad as the next clone. He had plenty of acreage. But Sev had fixated on that spot, while always fixing Fi with a scowl.

Fierfek, why did Sev have to look at him like that? Like Fi offended his understanding of the galaxy? Fi was the normal one, just with freckles, good humor and better hair. Sev’s hair was unruly, and almost ruddy in the Galactic City daylight. It needed some attention.

Something ambushed Fi. A simulation his brain played through without his consent, inspired by that couple he’d watched through the insurance office window:

Sev bent over him, scouring Fi’s bravery off his plates with his tongue. From his cod to his chest. Licking him shiny again, while Fi threaded his fingers through Sev’s mane. Urging him gently lower.

In his airless hide, Fi’s neck crawled. His mind sank down to meet Sev’s hot breath. He shivered and jerked into the ground, helplessly.

“Someone cramping up?” came the judgemental voice.

Fi froze. He was hard. He was fucking hard.

And Sev just heard him moan. When had he cut back in? There had been no click. No warning.

A bad guy or ten would have been very welcome, right about then, as Fi blazed with shame.

A pause. “Just Fi having a moment with his Verp,” Darman said.

Scorch tutted. “Don’t make your Deece jealous, Fi. She’ll know where your hands have been.”

“We have an arrangement,” Fi joked, with some effort.

He missed his body glove. The tight cod seal always smothered the worst of the sensations.

Now, Fi’s cock snagged against his skivvies and the rucks in his fatigues—and the growl on Sev’s voice when he told everyone to shut up again.

The recce continued.

[studiohousepet]

For the artist ask game!! 🔥 & ☀️

Ask meme

🔥Describe a WIP or project you are excited to start.

oooh yesss!! rn i have roughly 35 wips that ive like, officially started? But there's others that are only in the thought bubble stage... if I had to pick, I've got a maybe sad Sev helmet painting that's dear to my heart. I played republic commando as a kid and I was so scared and enthralled by that game... trandoshans were like, in my nightmares for a little bit.

☀️What is something you have wanted to try drawing but has felt too intimidating to give it a shot?

i answered a cityscape earlier but also knights!! cause their armor is different than clones and there's all these confusing pieces and shiny parts. And then after that jousting because I love the movement and fancy colors! So pretty!

[malicedragoness]

Humphf. This just deleted my ask. I shall try again. Top 5 'Take me now Daddy/Mummy'. Top 5 'KILL ME NOW'. And why :D

So this will be multi-fandom. 

Top 5 Take Me Nows (in no particular order)

1. Kenshi Takahashi ‘Mortal Kombat’ - The lithe build, black hair, telekinetic/telepathy powers. It’s all just so attractive. He’s polite but he has a little snark that you wouldn’t expect fro him. When he called Tri-borg an asshole it had me rolling! And when Jacqui told him he has “less fart jokes” than Johnny! So he CAN be immature and tell some stupid jokes. And I’m juvenile enough to laugh at that shit.

Was he a great dad to Takeda? No. He is trying to reconnect, and it still doesn’t make up for time lost. I do commend him for growing up and admitting his faults to his son and try to be in his future now. But the issues between them is going to take a lot of time and patience to deal with. I wish MK would incorporate something like that in game. *sighs*

But in conclusion. Yes, he can get it in.

2. Cullen ‘Dragon Age’ Series - He’s such a sweetheart and so polite to women. And watching him through 3 games, he changes so much. He went from shy Chantry Templar to paranoid about mages in Origins. DA2 He was the Knight commander’s right hand man, and then saw how corrupted the Chantry system and Meredith was. And in Inquisition, you now see the end result after 10 years and he’s now commanding an army outside the Chantry’s influence. He’s had a lot of character development and it’s a wonderful result.

3. Geralt ‘The Witcher’ - OK. OK! OK! THIS motherfucker can totally get it in! He’s banged a lot women in his games, and a few monsters or two (vampires, succubus, etc.). He knows what he’s doing. And those scars? *faints* I’m fucking dead.

4. Jarlaxle ‘Drizzt Do’Urden’ book sagas - This is a book character I’ve been following since middle school. (And I’m now almost 30). I have an unashamed thing for elves. Especially dark elves. And Jarlaxle is so different from them all. Just about every piece of clothing he has is enchanted. His rainbow cloak, big ass hat, pirate eye patch, his boots. It’s all enchanted with magic and he’s got the charisma to boot. And elves live a long time... so you know he’s got the experience. ;)

5. Sev RC1207 ‘Star Wars: Republic Commando’ video game - I’m just gonna say it. ANY of the clones can get it. But more so Sev can get it! This is one of my favorite games in the world. I can sit down and play it at any time, and it holds a special place in my heart. Sev is just a badass mofo. And the way Karen Traviss describes the clones in her book series (which is sadly not canon anymore) the clones are ripped AF. Sev can get it. No doubt.

Honorable mentions: Erron Black and Blackwall

Top 5 Kill Me Nows (in no particular order) So I took this more as what annoys me in games every time I encounter them. LOL

1. Sloth Demon in the Circle Tower ‘Dragon Age: Origins’ - I HATE having to go through that goddamn dream sequence every time I decide to play a new character. I get to this part and I’m like “fucking kill me!”

2. Letho ’Witcher 2′ - Having to fight this fucker was difficult! I died so many times it wasn’t even funny! (Also, he could get it in)

3. Shao Kahn ‘Mortal Kombat’ - Every time I see him, it’s just the typical villain. Powerful dude wants to be ruler, super fucking evil for no reason other than wanting power, and will kill bitches and take them as concubines. It’s so been done before! “Again. A-fucking-gain. Nothing new. Nothing change. Same old shit. Same old fucking shit!”

4. Every time someone mentions a ‘paradox’ in the Legacy of Kain Series - I loved this series growing up, but all the fucking time travel and paradoxes made it confusing AF! Love the games. But goddamn I don’t think the writers knew what the fuck was going on.

5. Having to go mine planets in Mass Effect 2 - Oh, you don’t want your team to die? Better spend some hours mining planets to upgrade your ship or your fucking crew will die. Oh, and let’s not forget, it’s super boring. -_-

Sorry, I just had to air my grievances. 

[izzyovercoffee]

Do you have any ships in the clone wars/repcom fandom?

DO I

TBH I have a really… really long list of ships. I’m one of those people that could potentially ship anyone/everyone given enough time to come up with at least vaguely acceptable reasoning. 

I mean … I’m the one behind the ship of Mereel and The Stars so I don’t … uh, have a whole lot of requirements for shipping.

My lines are: Everyone is an Adult at time of ship; and any potentially coercive relationships are written with a very clear, honest presentation and understanding of that coercive nature (zero tolerance policy for romanticizing abuse).

Fair warning, though: I do have clone/clone ships, too, and I know that makes people uncomfortable — hence the warning. And for the record, any of the below ships? I don’t expect anyone else to ship it, and I don’t generally expect people to be down w/ it or write it, either. B’)

I also … have Mereel listed kind of a lot in here. He just has so much love to give, okay. B’)

and under a cut bc damn this got long

Republic Commando: 

Mereel and the Stars

Stars. Ka’ra. Ruling Council of Fallen Leaders. 

When Mand’alore die, it’s said they ascend to the stars. Is that where it ends, really, or do they become something more, something greater than they were in life? And if they do — do they interact with the people?

Do they keep favorites? Do they adore and adulate their champions?

And how difficult, exactly, is that relationship for the mortal who can’t quite reach out and touch the one he loves most?

Ordo and Besany

like honestly my OTP for the longest time lmao 

I never finished my ‘Are These For Me?’ 30 drabbles for them … but maybe one day. One day.

Fi and Ordo

Boy meets Boy. Boy compliments Boy’s skirt. Boy hugs other Boy so hard they hit the floor.

#true love

Besany, Fi, Ordo

Besany is the type of person who is so kind, and so considerate, and so understanding. And Fi … he needs that. He needs it just as much as Ordo needs it, and as they need each other, and Besany. 

Some might not find a closed polytriad “normal,” but if it works for them, then it shouldn’t be anyone else’s business. 

Darman and Etain 

My heart constantly breaks for them. They deserved so much better than what they got, and it kills me.

And their relationship was so … so good. So good, in the beginning. Tragic, what Kal did to them.

Atin and Laseema

They were lucky in that they weren’t Kal’s favorites, and so were able to fly mostly under the radar and out of his attention. Kal still held a lot of … really unhealthy financial control over them, but … I genuinely feel that Atin and Laseema could relate deeply on several levels.

They have… compatible demons, for lack of a better term. They balance each other. And Laseema was always an interesting character I wish we could learn more of — and her friendships with the rest of the clan. After all, she seemed to be the one in active communication with everyone. 

Niner and Boss

Listen … I love this ship. I feel like there’s a lot of UST going on whenever they’re onscreen, and it’s an interesting sort of dichotomy that goes on between them — two sergeants of two squads whose trainers viciously hated each other during training days. 

There’s a competitiveness there that can’t really be quashed, but there’s also an understanding that exists between them that’s unique to their experiences.

Jaing and Kom’rk

This is one of those incredibly obscure, controversial ships. 

Full disclosure: this is a pretty fucked up ship, and it’s mostly from the perspective of “wow, that’s kinda fucked up.” I don’t expect anyone else to ship it, and I don’t generally expect people to be down w/ it or write it, either. If they do, the fucked-up part needs to be recognized and recognizable, however obliquely, or it just doesn’t work. 

They’re two very damaged people, there’s no use shying away from that. 

I fell into this ship by total accident, going through all the nulls’ tags on ao3 years ago and stumbled on one fic, and like … since then, I haven’t really been able to climb out this hole.  

Corr, Ruusan, and Jilka

I am not a fan of Corr and Jilka, alone.

That said … I am a fan of Corr and Ruusan, of Jilka and Ruusan, and … of the potential dynamics of this poly combination, with the given that Jilka and Corr remain platonic as opposed to romantic. 

It just feels more … balanced? Also Rev @thesummerstorms and Gena @cassiansfuzzyjacket explain it way better than I do.

RepComm crack!ships:

these are very, very clearly not-canon and not to ever be taken as canon (by me, at least?) but damn. they’re nice to think about, and try to come up with ways in which it might work.

Etain and Mereel

“WHAT THE FUCK IZZY?” I KNOW! I KNOWWWWWW

But more seriously … Mereel was there every day for Etain during a very, very difficult time (the months after her almost-miscarriage). Of all the characters in the series during the course of the series, after Etain and Darman, Etain and Mereel spend the most unobstructed alone time together (about three months?) — and we would never know because, lol, the pacing and timeline of the series is not really presented in a way that makes that noticeable.

Mereel also does something with Etain he doesn’t do with anyone else, ever, that we see in the series: admit vulnerability. He’s genuinely vulnerable with her, in a way that he is not with anyone else. That means something — especially given the context that he doesn’t open up with anyone else, not his brothers, and never Kal. 

Someone that Mereel can be genuinely vulnerable with? That he must trust, implicitly, to share that vulnerability? 

And then you have Etain, who is isolated after the mess of pregnancy news blows up. She’s someone who doesn’t have anyone she can trust, or depend on, who isn’t looking to use her in some way — or someone that she can be equally open and honest with — in those months … right up until Mereel (and Rav), when she’s evac’d to Kyrimorut.

And when she is, she’s treated like a whole person. Not someone who’s just a vessel for a potential, not someone to be used or leveraged for misogynistic reasons. A genuine, whole, person who is highly intelligent, highly capable — and treated as an actual equal. She was not given that respect since the conclusion of Hard Contact (except, briefly, when hunting with Vau).

The whole situation, as terrible as it all is, allows for the foundation of genuine, real, trust to form between them.

There’s a lot of … well, there’s a lot of potential there. A lot of room for complications and conflicted feelings and angst — UST and one-sided pining and mixed signals and confusion and just raw feeling — and it’s all things that don’t necessarily need to be resolved negatively (or right away, or at all), that don’t have to end in heartbreak, that can be just as it is: complicated feelings that begin during a difficult time and, given room to grow, become something else or something more many, many years down the line.

Mereel and Boss

Don’t even look at me.

So this ship came as a result of SW RP (bc of course it did) and, tbh, they have a lot of … difficult commonalities and clashes of personality. Boss is a difficult man with a lot on his shoulders — a lot of responsibility, a lot of stress, just … a lot. And Mereel? Mereel is someone good at managing stress — out of necessity, and practice, and effort.

And the thing with Mereel is he’s fun, he’s easy, and he demands nothing. Boss doesn’t need to take care of him, because Mereel can take care of himself — and sometimes Mereel can take care of Boss, whether he likes it, or not (or likes to say he doesn’t when he does).

Boss certainly needs someone like that, especially after long days and hard nights with other people always needing him, depending on him. It’s good, it’s necessary, to have someone for whom he can truly relax and let his guard down around — that he can trust implicitly, and be allowed to be vulnerable, to have his ugly parts exposed, and still be loved unconditionally, because that’s just what Mereel’s best at doing.

Parja and Mereel

“SERIOUSLY?” LISTEN

This also came as a result of SW RP, and mostly takes place in an AU where … Parja and Fi’s relationship inevitably crumbles, and they split — but they split amicably, and remain friends. Parja remains a mechanic and never is forced to give up her shop because of (poor misogynistic writing and) Kal. 

Mereel and Parja and Bardan are all particularly good friends and get up to all kinds of nonsense and pranks, and prank wars.

And … sometimes, late nights spent tinkering on separate projects in the same space, late nights working on the same projects, late nights spent together — and sometimes Mereel can’t quite come clean that he needs someone, that well after the conclusion of the war he needs physical contact in order to sleep.

And after the end of what Parja put too much stock and energy into what she hoped would be a sure future, a sure thing — maybe it hurts too much to sleep alone, but it’s too much of a risk to fill that empty space with romance when she’s not ready. Why not someone she trusts, that she knows would never, not ever, not in a million years, ever cross that boundary — someone who would never violate that trust, never take the invitation to share her bed as anything more than just that: a mutually beneficial way to get some rest.

Sometimes feelings happen. Gradually, and slow, and sneaks up on even the most vigilant. After a while, it becomes expected. After a while, it becomes wanted. After a while, they become needed.

other ships I’ve fallen into that I don’t have time/want to explain:

FI AND SEV

Atin/Sev

Sev/Boss

Scorch/Sev

MAZE/ZEY

Jaing/Sev

Fixer/peace of mind

Uthan/Mij (but way more hostile on Uthan’s part)

Walon/his star-crossed princess (literally, a real thing. I can’t get over how this is an actual thing)

Clone Wars:

admittedly, it’s been a while since I watched the series all the way through, but … repeating the warning for clone/clone bc that’s a thing in here, and the explanations are shorter bc, again, it’s been a while.

Marshal Commander Cody and Captain Rex

Their personalities mesh so well together, and honestly they’re just … so compatible ??? They also work so well together, went through training together … if there’s anyone Rex can really trust implicitly, it’s Cody.

Their friendship grows over the series and expanded (Legends) materials, and just … it works, in the way they need it to work.

Echo and Fives

Just punch me right in the chest.

really any combination from Domino Squad

because we all need tragedy in our hearts

General Aayla Secura and Commander Bly

You know … for the most part, I’m a little leery on ships like this where there’s a clear and obvious potential for really serious coercion. Most Clone/Jedi-who-are-their-direct-superiors tend to fall into this category.

but I’m just a sucker for Bly-post-war angst, for the conflict of fraternizing with a superior, with trying to navigate that Aayla really did have his life in her hands, and then the conflict of navigating those feelings surrounding killing her at the end of the war.

I’m a terrible person.

Duchess Satine Kryze and Obi-wan Kenobi

let me just like … repeat the above. My one thing about this is that I hate how Satine was killed off for Kenobi-man-pain, and generally only want to know stories that you know … fix-it, lmao, or give her a more respectable death that was written with better care to her character and her arc

Ventress and Obi-wan Kenobi

All of that flirting went fuck and nowhere. What a hugely missed opportunity — especially when Ventress was trying to work towards being better, or making a life for herself, turn over a new leaf or whatever.

I mean, we all know she hangs out in the kind of tapcafs Kenobi loves to get drunk in, let’s be honest with ourselves.

clone wars crack!ships :

I’m sorry in advance lmao

Captain Rex and Lieutenant Mereel

“What the hell.” Listen.

“Did this come out of SW RP?” HOW DID YOU GUESS.

Much like the other ships with Mereel, it’s all contingent on … Mereel operating as a free agent — a solo operator. Mereel pulling strings and favors across the GAR to make things just a little bit easier for Rex, for clearing up or speeding up administrative bull shit so that Rex can focus on getting what he needs for his men in a reasonable amount of time — or free up some time for himself.

And with the way Mereel’s … operations tend to go, paths sometimes cross that didn’t before. 

Anyway, who doesn’t like camping?

Quinlan Voss and Obi-wan Kenobi

Listen … they have a kind of fun playfully antagonistic thing going on. I don’t know if I could ever seriously ship it, mostly bc everyone who falls in love with either of them straight up die, so we come to a “unstoppable force vs immovable object” impasse if this ship ever actually came to fruition.

that and fandom can be kinda … gross w/ this ship sometimes so I’ve been avoiding it lately for that reason.

Senator Padme Amidala and Duchess Satine Kryze

how can anyone watch the episodes where they’re together and not see how good they are together. and like, the men in their lives, cause their deaths. so why not just … leave their men for each other?

Everyone wins.

not exactly clone wars honorable mention:

Ahsoka Tano and Kaeden Larte

I ship it so hard. if only !!! if only they didn’t meet when they did, when Ahsoka wasn’t as wounded, still, from the fallout of the end of The Clone Wars. and all of that tragedy. i just.

I just !!! ugh. they’re so good together.

aaand I think that’s all of them, or at least all that I can remember off the top of my head for now.

[cienie-isengardu]

My RepCom Musing HC vs. TZ [2]??

I’m still trying figure out the differences between Hard Contact and Triple Zero. This time let’s talk about Atin’s hate toward Vau.

It makes sense that in Hard Contact whatever bad stuff went between Atin and his training sergeant, he would rather keep it to himself than share with just-met commandos who were from a totally different (foreign) batch.  As Sev said in Triple Zero, “disagreements stay inside the company” and Atin most likely followed that rule too, at least during the course of the first book. Yet, the first time reading the Hard Contact - and now, rereading the passages I need - there is not much feeling of bad blood between Atin and Vau?

Like, yeah, Atin was closed off then and at first talked about safe things, like the equipment and technology, something he actually enjoyed (and according to Republic Commando Prima Guide, technology was Vau’s obsession shared with Fixer, another tech expert in his respective squad) and it took some time before he warmed up to his new squadmates to joke with them and share stories.

Atin could be just so collected and all, but let me remind that he, like all Vau’s commandos, was pretty confrontational man, even against the potentially stronger opponents (True Colors especially points that out when Omega worked with A’den and it apparently happened more times before, Triple Zero mentions that during training on Kamino having to choose fight against brother or Vau he went against the more experienced and dangerous sergeant and even during Hard Contact, Atin clashed from time to time with other squad members). Triple Zero says that Atin promised himself to kill Vau right after he got out of the bacta tank, so during Hard Contact that promise should be pretty fresh in his mind (unless it was a different beating? I’m a bit confused about that too, as it seems to be two unrelated events? Scar after Geonosis, fighting against armed with sword Vau on Kamino?), which is why it is hard for me to wrap my mind, from where comes the loyalty and calmness toward Walon in the first book when in Triple Zero, one year after Geonosis, the mere mention of the former sergeant was setting him in the wrong way.

 I understand that idea of Vau coming back could be the root of such change but in Hard Contact Atin would need to be freshly after receiving the beating (scar) that happened right away after Geonosis and he officially joined his new squad three months after said battle which time in stasis tube and apparently kept under medic observation, as he needed to argue to be let out on mission, as was mentione in the book itself:

"RC-three-two-two-two, sir," he said. "Apologies for keeping you, sir. The medics didn't want to discharge me."

    No wonder: there was a stripe of raw flesh across his face that started just under his right eye, ran clean across his mouth, and finally ended at the left side of his jaw. He certainly didn't look like any of the other clones now. Darman wondered what level of persuasion it had taken to get the medical staff to skip a course of bacta.

As was said in Imperial Commando: 501st, members of Omega Squad were put in stasis when they got back from Geonosis and revived three months into the war.

"We weren't conscious at the time, sir," Niner said.

Melusar looked up from the holochart. He was moving virtual markers around with a stylus, each green point of light representing the last known whereabouts of an escaped Jedi. The green lights were dwindling in number.

"Sorry?"

"We were put in stasis when we got back from Geonosis, then revived three months into the war," Niner said. "So we didn't see much of Camas. General Zey was our CO for most of the time." And there was something he had to add, because Melusar's observation didn't make sense unless he was stupid-which he clearly wasn't-or trying to entrap them. "Most troops had to take out their own Jedi officers, so it was no harder for us than it was for them. Easier, actually, sir. Camas was firing at us."

In Hard Contact, Darman’s POV also makes it clear he was kept in stasis (there is no information about him between the day(?) after Battle of Geonosis and this current moment, so there is no reason to doubt he was kept in that state  for the whole three months):

Secure briefing room, Fleet Support, Ord Mantell, three standard months after Geonosis 

    Fleet Support Base hadn't been built to accommodate tens of thousands of troops, and it showed. The briefing room was a cold store, and it still smelled of food and spices. Darman could see the loading rails that spanned the ceiling, but he kept his focus on the holoscreen in front of him. 

    It didn't feel so bad to be revived after stasis. He was still a commando. They hadn't reconditioned him. That meant-that meant he'd performed to expected standards at Geonosis. He'd done well. He felt positive.

(And from other sources like Republic comics series we know that ARCs were kept in stasis tubes by Kaminoans who feared the clones were too dangerous to let them walk freely. So it could also happen to commandos who still didn't belong to any squad)

If Atin was kept in a stasis tube like Darman, he would not have a proper time to process his trauma and hateful feelings toward Vau. What makes me wonder why HC!Atin does not match his TZ!version, when in the second book he already had a year to process what happened?

His mere reaction at mention of his former instructor and Fi’s additional insight:

"Yes. We'll keep you posted." Skirata glanced at Ordo as if he'd said something. "Atin, son, you know Vau's back, don't you?"

Atin paused for a second and then carried on tapping a probe on the entrails of a dismantled datapad. He nodded to himself. "Yes, Sarge. I noted that."

"You're coming back to Brigade HQ when we get you out of there, but you steer clear of him, okay? You hear me?"

Fi was riveted. Atin had never said a word about Vau, other than that he was hard, but his reactions were telling.

He didn't even look toward the holoimage. "I promise, Sarge. Don't worry."

"I'll be around to make sure, too."

Atin inhaled audibly, a sign that usually meant he was either exasperated or burying his anger. Fi thought better of asking which. [TZ]

makes me wonder how it supposedly fits HC text like this below since in fact Atin did tell the rest of Omega about Vau’s teaching without mentioning how hard was his instructor:

"Let's go with the dry rats for a change." Yes, Atin was definitely feeling better, and not just physically. "Who used to say that, then?"

"Uh?"

"The dry rations thing."

"Oh. Skirata. Our old instructor sergeant."

Atin took a bite out of the white cube and washed it down with a gulp of water from his bottle. "He never trained us. Heard a lot about him."

"Trained Fi and Darman, too. Our squads were all in the same battalion."

"We had Walon Vau."

"That explains where you get your cheery outlook."

"Sergeant Vau taught us the importance of planning for the worst scenario," Atin said, all loyalty. "And maximizing your tech. Being hard is good, being hard with superior tech is better."

Maybe it is just me, but HC!Atin doesn’t seem to have any special grudge toward Vau and is “all loyalty” and again, if he was kept in statis tubes for three months, there was little to no time to process such strong negative feelings at all and there is like zero implication of the conflict (and the scar was freshly matter) while we know Atin himself is very confrontional type of person.

Also, I still didn’t figure out how Atin’s medic records work as Vau supposedly hurt him right after the commando come back from battle, but his scar wasn’t fully healed and Atin needed to argue with medic to be allowed on first Omega mission? Like what? No one gave the man bacta treatment through the three months?? Why he needed argue with medic, if he supposedly did not suffer any injury through this period of time? Was he put in statis tube without any proper medic treatment first?