#clone commando whirl

[dustmusings]

my kingdom for a kiss

Fives x F!Reader / Jedi!Reader

word count: 8.7k

description: yours and fives' friendship has never been easy for you to navigate, but after a particularly painful mission throws your faith into question, you need comforting more than ever

content warnings: NSFW 18+ angst, emotional hurt/comfort sorta, unestablished relationship, forbidden relationship, oral (f!recieving), pinv sex, talk of the jedi order, mutual pining, kinda dramatic admitting feelings, basically fives and reader being atrociously down bad for each other. the smut is kinda vague tbh

a/n: fives is a pathetic male yearner. that's my headcanon. hence why the title is a jeff buckley lyric lol. also i'm still not super confident writing smut so just don't perceive me okay? cool, thanks. this might be my favourite thing I've written???

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You had never been one to enjoy a battle as it was, but this one was really testing you.

A significant amount of your men had already been lost, and it was getting harder to push it from your mind. You stood your ground nonetheless, your lightsaber whirring in front of you, a blue shield that redirected the blaster bolts gunning for the men that still remained.

Your breath was heavy, ripping from you at a pace you could only beg the maker to allow you to keep. Your body was tired, but you kept your mind focused, tuned into your surroundings. You could only call on the force to aid you so much as you stayed resistant to you body’s pleas for rest, and so you pushed on, pursuing the enemy's left flank. A familiar shiver ran up your spine, and you whirled around, your eyes laying upon the unfolding scene that the force was warning you of.

“Captain, watch out!” you called, sprinting in his direction, praying that you could get to him before the incoming commando droid made its attack.

Right before you reached his position, another commando leapt at you, drawing your focus. You made short work of it, slicing the arm that reached towards you before cutting a clean line through their middle. However, when you turned around, the other commando had clearly marked you as the more immediate threat, and you received a strong blow to your nose.

You stumbled backwards from the impact, and though the pain wasn’t unbearable, tears filled your vision by way of simple biological response. The droid landed a forceful hit to your side before you realised that relying on your eyes was a hopeless pursuit. You instead placed your trust in the force, squeezing your eyes shut. You rolled forwards, the rough terrain biting into your robes, and turned back to face the droid, bringing the blade of your lightsaber up through the centre of it.

“Thank you General!” Rex shouted over the soundscape of the battle, “Are you alright?”

“I will be once—” you interrupted yourself with a sharp cough, “once we push these kriffing clankers—”

“General! Are you okay?”

Your vision was only just becoming clear again, but you didn’t need to see to recognise who was speaking to you.

“Yes Fives, I’m fine” you huffed as you blinked away your tears. Your eyes found the clone in question who looked visibly worried about you, his helmet clutched in his hand.

“Are you injured?” he asked hurriedly, ushering you behind some cover as a blaster bolt whizzed past, dangerously close to your cheek.

“No” you replied, the lie slipping from your tongue easily, “but this isn’t working. I think it might be time to start getting creative”

The corners of his lips lifted at that.

“Got it General” he gave you a small salute, slipping his helmet back over his head, “See you on the other side”

You watched him rush back into the battle, unable to contain the fond smile that broke out on your face. When you tried to re-join the battle yourself, the left side of your abdomen cried out, stopping you in your tracks. It didn’t feel like anything was broken, but the commando droid had dealt you a nasty blow, and it was certain to be a painful bruise at the very least.

You quieted your mind, bringing your focus back to what was important as you stepped out from the cover. The war, the battle, victory.

When did you begin to care about such things?

Stepping off the gunship and aboard the Resolute, you fought to keep a heaving sigh from escaping your lips. Your face was the picture of stoicism, your mouth set in a hard line for fear that your emotions could bubble up and pour out of you at any second. This mission had well and truly pushed you to the limit.

You were ushered into a mission debrief immediately, though you were far from engaged. Your frown was evident to everyone around you, a deep crease set in your brow that anyone else would have thought was a scowl. The clones of the 501st knew better. You lost a lot of good men today. It was hard not to see it as a personal failure when they were placed under your command, but either way, the loss weighed heavily on your mind.

You started making your way back to your quarters after the debrief, though quickly found yourself just ambling about the ship, little care for where you were going.

Your mind was a mess.

You couldn't help but feel disillusioned by the whole ordeal. Talking with the other generals about the battle you had just been in, about the clones you lost, as if it were a necessary price to pay. You believed the teachings of the jedi, you believed they meant to do good, but for too long you had been nothing more than a soldier, a pawn in a game with no end in sight, and a meaning which still eluded you.

You couldn't begin to imagine how the clones felt about it all. They were made for this purpose, unlike you, but that was certainly more horrifying to think about. You were closer with your men than some of the other generals, and it sometimes felt like they were the only people you could truly trust. They were loyal, almost to a fault, and you made sure they knew how you felt about their place in everything. It had been hard going trying to convince some of them that they were worth the risk of protecting on the battlefield.

Though you tried to instil in all of them a sense of self worth, there were still those you were closer to than others. You were most familiar with Rex, given that he was your Captain, and you had spent a lot of downtime with Tup and Dogma as well.

And then there was Fives.

Something about your relationship with Fives had always felt different. From the first meeting, it had felt like there was something pulling you towards him, something you didn't want to acknowledge. You were eternally fascinated by his mind, his benevolence, and he had an irresistible charm to him that manifested in everything he did. Internally, you fought tooth and nail to let your mind be still around him, tune out the feelings he gave you, but it never seemed to quite work.

You knew you shouldn't be harbouring such feelings as a jedi, but you figured that maybe it wouldn't be a problem at all if you just ignored them. Safe to say, it didn't work.

It was a fool's errand really, there was no point in indulging in how you felt about him, but you did anyway. He made it difficult not to. The way he looked at you set your insides alive in a way that just hadn't happened with anyone else before. You couldn't help but dwell on what it would be like to forget all about your vows to the jedi order, and satiate your apparent need for him.

Though, you could at least have him to thank for keeping you in check at the very least. He refused to call you by your name, your rank being the more preferable nickname, and he was courteous to an almost ridiculous level. He walked the line between dutiful trooper and good friend masterfully, and you had to applaud his professionalism.

You didn't fully realise where your feet had taken you until you were standing in the doorway of the barracks, the clones inside turning to look at you.

“General” Jesse grinned up at you, “Come and join the game!”

You smiled weakly at him as you stepped into the room, “not really in the mood Jesse”

“Come on” he dragged out the syllables in a mockingly whiny tone, “we all know you're the best at Sabacc”

You huffed a short laugh, “I still maintain that you're all just really bad”

“Well then feast your eyes” he spread his arms, knocking Hardcase from his seat in the process.

You shook your head with a chuckle as the pair began playfully arguing, casting a glance around the room. You realised even before you'd taken a proper look that the one you really wanted to talk to wasn't there, the usual pull not drawing your attention.

“Dogma” you placed your hand on his shoulder, the only clone that wasn't partaking in the game of Sabacc in some manner, “where are Tup and Fives?”

Dogma looked up at you, brows drawn together slightly as if in confusion. “Fives was injured, Tup took him to the medbay when we got back” he informed you, noting your growing stress immediately, “I'm sorry General, I thought you knew”

“Don't be sorry Dogma, thank you for letting me know”

You sped out of the barracks before you could even hear the clone's reply, walking with haste in the direction of the injured trooper.

You tried to keep your worries at bay, but the growing sense of dread was gnawing at you. From the back of your mind, a guilt started to creep in. It was hard enough losing the amount of men that you had today, but losing Fives too would be a pain you couldn't return from. You couldn't let that happen, not on your watch.

The door to the medbay swung open as you barged your way in, heads turning in your direction at the intrusion. Your eyes quickly found Fives’, sat on a cot at the back of the room and talking to Tup. You made a beeline for him instantly.

“What happened? Where are you hurt?” you asked, eyes scanning over his form as you drew your brows into a deep frown. His armour was still intact, only his helmet taken off and resting beside him.

“General…?” Fives addressed you with a worried look, and it was then that you realised how heavily you were breathing. You had clearly been walking faster than you realised.

“I'm sorry” you took a moment to catch your breath, a light blush dusting your cheeks, “Dogma said you were hurt, I—”

You then noticed the graze on his cheekbone. From the looks of it, it seemed that a blaster bolt had narrowly missed its mark, instead only scorching across the skin of his cheek.

“Is this it?” you asked, stepping forwards and gently tracing your fingers across the underside of the burn.

Fives didn't respond right away, and you felt his body go rigid under your touch.

“Um, it—” he cleared his throat, and you noticed his cheeks flush red, “yeah, Tup made me come in, it's just a scratch, nothing major”

“Good” you said softly, almost a whisper.

You gaze lingered on him as you took your hand away, noting the way his brows scrunched upwards, his eyes seemingly searching yours for some kind of explanation as to your suddenly affectionate actions.

Tup cleared his throat, snapping you both from your trance, and Fives shifted in his seat. It was only by his leg grazing yours that you realised that you'd wound up standing between his legs, and you stepped backwards quickly, trying to act unphased despite the blush you could feel creeping up the back of your neck.

“Did you need me for anything, General?” Fives spoke awkwardly, using his hands all too much for how much he was saying.

“No, yeah, just wanted to— I mean, yea— No” you stuttered out, and heard Tup fail to suppress a laugh.

You scolded yourself internally for being so affected by him, to the point where you were acting completely strange in front of your men. You really shouldn't give in so easily. You had done so much training in keeping your mind from seeking selfish desires, but those parts of your mind seemed to shut down around Fives.

It occurred to you then that you'd never so much as touched him before, and his alarmed reaction suddenly made a whole lot of sense. It also made you realise that he'd never touched you either, and you felt your face heat even more at your foolishness.

“I’ll just see you later” you mumbled out, realising you had just been staring at him for a moment too long.

Fives watched you leave the medical bay with a furrowed brow, though Tup, on the other hand, was smirking broadly.

In the dead of night, when everyone else was most likely in the deepest part of their sleep, your mind was still active, working overtime, and keeping you as awake as you had been during the battle. Everything you believed in was being thrown into question, it was hard not to. Then, at the centre of it all, was Fives. Fives, who was always on your mind. Fives, who always reminded you why you felt like this, just when you thought you'd gotten over it. Fives, who was respectful and affable and professional in a way that made you crazy.

You became distracted from your thoughts when you heard something outside your room. A shadow appeared beneath the door to the corridor, waited for a moment, and then disappeared again. It happened a few times before your curiosity overwhelmed you, and you quietly lifted yourself from your cot to walk over.

You let the person walk away once more, waiting to see what they would do, and this time it seemed like they wouldn't come back. Though, after a short while, the shadow returned, and you opened up your door.

Much to your surprise, your eyes met those of the man that plagued your thoughts, and he was clearly just as surprised that you had opened the door.

“General! I'm so sorry, I’ll jus—”

“Fives, relax”

You put your hand on his shoulder, and as he was not adorned by his usual armour, he looked as if your touch had burnt into him, wincing.

“What brings you here? Is everything alright?” you asked, noting his somewhat distressed visage.

“Everything is fine General, I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep” he spoke quickly, starting to walk away.

“Fives” you grabbed his arm to stop him leaving, “I wasn't asleep. Tell me what's troubling you”

There were more emotions than you could name flitting through his eyes, and it worried you. You had never seen him like this. His eyes flicked down your figure, no doubt noticing how you hadn't yet changed from your robes and armour, and you realised that your face was most likely still smeared with dirt.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked softly when he didn’t reply.

Fives looked startled, “I— I shouldn't”

You sighed, frowning a little, “I'm not really concerned with what you should or shouldn't do. If it would ease your mind, I'd like you to come in”

His distressed expression relented enough to see that your words had hit home for him. You stepped to the side, inviting him inside and he waited for another second before entering. You closed the door behind you and went back over to your cot, though Fives was still standing awkwardly by the door.

“Would you like to sit down?” you asked, patting your hand on the cot next to you.

Fives did as you said, as if it were a command, and you wished for just one moment that he would stop seeing you as nothing more than his commanding officer. He was wringing his hands as he took his seat, and you only became more worried.

“Now, tell me what's on your mind”

He looked up to you and paused, before looking away again, “I couldn't sleep”

You nodded, encouraging him to go on, “why not?”

“I—” his eyes found yours again, a vulnerability shining in them that you had only seen a few times, “I was worried about you General”

“About me?” your brow furrowed on instinct, “why?”

“I don't mean this rudely, but… you were acting kind of weird earlier, I only wanted to make sure you were alright”

Your frown softened at his words, a small smile appearing, and you placed a hand on his arm, “thank you Fives, that's very considerate, but you don't have to worry about me”

Fives gave you a funny sort of look, as if you'd just said something preposterous, “I'll always worry about you General, It's our job— my job to look after you”

You couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was, but it was tinged with a sadness of remembering the power imbalance between you. You had always tried to minimise it — you saw your life as the same value as the clones — but you knew that they didn't see it that way, and neither did anyone else.

You sighed, moving your gaze to the floor in front of you as you pulled your knees to your chest, “today was just… difficult”

Fives nodded in understanding, watching as your carefully constructed noble exterior began to crumble away.

“It's hard not to feel like everything is pointless, for nought. We lost so many men today, men that I—” you paused before you could get too choked up, “it's hard to tell people that their life has value when it's not treated as such”

Fives breathed out a long breath, “myself and my brothers are prepared to die for you, General, as much as you—”

“Well I don't want that” you almost snapped at him, your frown showing how you disapproved of the comment, “I didn't ask for this, for—”

You knew you shouldn't go on. Fives didn't need to know that you were questioning the order and your place in the war. It wasn't for him to bear the burden of.

“Today was tough” he agreed in a soft voice, and your eyes flicked to the now almost healed burn across his cheek, “it didn't feel like a win, at the end of the day”

You hummed in agreement. No victory could make up for the loss you felt.

“It makes me…angry, and I shouldn't be” you admitted quietly, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as you forced your eyes away from him.

You wanted to confide in Fives. He made it so easy, made you feel so safe. Safe enough to tell him your darkest secrets and deepest desires, but you knew no good could come of it. What point was there in telling a soldier under your command that you didn't believe in what he was specifically created to do?

“General” Fives called gently, if a little insistently, and you realised that you had completely zoned out.

“Sorry, what?” you looked up at him, blinking a few times and lifting your chin from where it rested on your knees.

“I asked why you were still wearing your armour… and your robes”

“Oh” you looked down at yourself, “I… I don't know. I was distracted, I suppose”

Fives sighed a little, giving you a somewhat unimpressed look.

“What?” you asked, almost a chuckle.

“I think I was right to be worried about you, General” his unimpressed expression invaded his words, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I'm fine, Fives — really. I just need to… wash the day off, probably”

“Yeah, you certainly do” he mumbled out, a small smirk lifting his lips.

You scoffed at him as you stood from your cot, “you're lucky I like you Fives. Any other commanding officer would send you to the brig for telling them they stink”

He chuckled and ducked his head slightly, “I didn't just mean it like that. You've got…” he gestured to his cheek, and you caught your reflection as you turned on the refresher light, taking his meaning.

“Maker, I can't believe I looked this awful the whole time and you didn't say anything” you laughed quietly, taking in your certainly battle-worn appearance.

There was dirt crusted onto your face and into your hair, and the eyebags that weighed down the skin under your eyes were more prominent than you'd seen in a long time. The war was clearly stretching you thin, and you sighed at how dull and lifeless you looked overall.

“I'll have a shower” you gave Fives a weak smile as you crossed the room to your chest of drawers, pulling out a fresh set of sleep clothes.

Fives shifted uncomfortably on the bed, “uh— do you want me to leave?”

“Oh” you spoke a little disappointedly, “if you would like to. It is late after all, and I don’t wish it keep you from your sleep”

“No, I—” he cleared his throat, “I just— I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, General”

You smiled at him warmly, your hand coming to rest on your hip, “you're not making me uncomfortable. In fact, it's nice to have you here”

His throat constricted as he swallowed, “thank you, General”

You rolled you eyes at the formality as you stepped back into the refresher once more.

“One of these days I'll get you to stop calling me that” you grumbled, and heard a huffed laugh coming from your room.

“Probably not”

You rested against the doorframe for a moment to look at the ARC trooper who was sat on your cot with a playful squint of your eyes, “that's not very dutiful of you, trooper”

“I didn't hear any orders” he shrugged, failing to suppress a smirk.

“Mm” you hummed thoughtfully, pushing off the doorframe, “don't tempt me”

You closed the door to the refresher and let out a long breath.

It felt oddly domestic, Fives sat on your cot as you threw teases his way before you went in the shower. Something inside you ached at the realisation that it would be something you'd never get to do under any normal circumstances. You longed to see a day when it would be acceptable in the eyes of those around you, but you knew you'd never see it. You felt hollow as you stepped into the shower.

You let the water wash over you, clearing dirt and grime with every droplet. Before long, you found yourself curled up and sat under stream of water, letting the weight of it hit your back as you cradled your head. Everything felt so crushing in that moment. The war, the day's losses, your duty as a jedi, a duty that you weren't sure you even understood anymore.

You didn’t realise how long you'd been sat there until you heard a gentle rapping against the door.

“General, are you okay?”

You sniffled, and only realised then that you had been crying. Perhaps Fives had heard you.

“I'm fine” you called weakly, “I'll be out soon”

You finished cleaning yourself mindlessly, fingers tangling in your hair as you worked the dirt out of it and letting the heat of the steam envelop you, almost making you feel feint. You welcomed it, a strange state of delirium that pushed your mind to a stillness. You slid on your clean clothes, a soft vest and shorts, beginning to dry your hair as you reopened the door to your room.

Fives still sat on the cot, and you gave him a gentle smile as you switched off the light. His eyes trailed the length of your body quickly before settling on your face, giving you a soft smile in return.

“Feel better?” he asked.

You nodded, reaching up to continue drying your hair with your towel, “yeah, I—”

“General!” Fives’ eyes went wide and he jumped up from his seat, rushing over to you.

You stepped back as he approached, confused by his sudden outburst. His hand retracted from where it reached out towards you and his eyes found yours once more, a look of something desperate in his eyes.

“I didn't know you were injured. Why didn't you get Kix to look at it?”

“What?” you frowned, looking down at your body.

You top had obviously rode up a little as you had stretched, and the bottom of a very dark, and very large, bruise poked out the bottom. You peeled up the top gently, conscious not to show too much, but equally revelling in how it just seemed to grow ever larger the more you revealed. Your hip and the left side of your ribcage were a mix of unpleasant purples, blues, and yellows.

“I— I forgot” you breathed out, remembering exactly when you would have sustained the injury. As expected, the commando droid had left a mark.

“You forgot?” Fives asked, incredulous.

You pulled your vest down, covering the offending mark.

“You need to get it checked out” Fives insisted.

“I'm fine, it doesn't even hurt” you replied, waving him off as you took your seat on your cot once more, against the headboard so that you faced the clone who stood across the room.

“General, please”

He retook his spot on the cot, giving his best pleading look. You didn't reply, and couldn't, for fear of the undignified squeak that would come out if you did. His eyes flicked between yours, searching for whatever it was that was going on behind them. You couldn't help the way your eyes began to water, and the distress on Fives’ face was clear as day.

“General” he spoke softly as he shifted closer to you, as if the rank was an affectionate nickname more than anything, “what's the matter?”

You fiddled with your fingers as you brought your knees to your chest once more, a comforting gesture as you showed far more vulnerability than you were usually comfortable with.

“Things aren't how they should be, Fives” you muttered, almost a whisper.

“What things?” he asked, innocently enough, though the way his body tensed told you how the words worried him.

“I— I'm really beginning to question some of the decisions of the council”

Fives looked alarmed, his voice betraying him further, “you're not going to leave, are you?”

You chuckled a little at his reaction, “probably not, no”

“Then…” he paused, not wishing to overstep any boundaries, “what decisions are you questioning?”

You sighed deeply, looking away in search of answers. What were you really questioning? Was it just the way that they conducted themselves in the war? Or did your suspicion run deeper? Was it the members of the council themselves? Was it what they believed? Or was it how the jedi were perceived by the galaxy?

“I don't know” you answered truthfully, “there are things I’ve always had qualms with — I’ve never understood some things such as… I feel that attachment is a natural part of the human condition, so I’ve always struggled with letting go, but… with the war, I worry that the purpose of the jedi is changing”

“Changing how?” Fives asked.

“The war means we have different priorities” you replied simply, turning you gaze back to him, “we’re no longer keepers of the peace. We can’t be, not while we’re leading a war”

Fives nodded and kept quiet for a moment. It was clear that his mind was working overtime, his eyes flitting across your face and around the room as his brows drew together and he subtly chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“You struggle with letting go?” he questioned in a quiet voice, his eyes locking with yours. There was something in his gaze, like he was searching for a specific answer.

You tried to quell your sudden nerves with a gulp, “yes”

“In what way?”

“Um, well I—” you spoke ever so eloquently, “I suppose I haven’t always succeeded in remaining… disconnected, from other people”

Fives couldn’t help but raise a questioning brow, and you almost scoffed.

“I— you— it’s hard” you grumbled, a frustrated huff escaping you, “you and the other clones are all under my command, how am I supposed to just not care about you?”

Fives shrugged, a small smile spreading across his lips, “some of the other Generals seem to manage”

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes a little, “I don’t want to be indifferent. You’re important to me, and I don’t care what the council would have to say about that”

Fives’ smile tightened almost imperceptibly at your words, but you still caught the way it became false as he turned to look at the ground.

“Is there… something else troubling you?” you asked, tilting your head so that you entered his field of view.

“It’s nothing, General” he flashed the hollow smile your way as he stood from the cot, “I should really be going—”

“Fives” you grabbed his wrist gently, stopping him from going any further, “what’s the matter?”

The way he looked down at you was almost pained, like he’d been wounded and was trying his best to hide the discomfort. Your stomach lurched at the sight, and a worried crease formed in your brow.

“There are some things I can’t say to you General” he spoke sadly, and the combination of his words with that tone made your heart ache.

“You can tell me anything, you know that” you replied, your voice more desperate than you had intended.

Fives just shook his head slowly, continuing to look at you with some form of anguish swimming in his amber eyes.

“Fives, talk to me. What is it?” you urged, standing up so that you were almost chest to chest with him.

“I want to tell you… everything” he paused, stepping away from you so your hand fell from his wrist, “but I can’t”

You shifted closer to him again, “why not?”

“It’s… inappropriate, frowned upon”

You dropped your head to the side, looking at him with a little suspicion, “are you in some kind of trouble?”

“In a way” he chuckled, though it was strained.

“Fives” you said his voice in a serious tone, akin to one you might use when commanding your men, “what is this about?”

He blew out a long breath, his eyes focused on anything but yours, “it’s… you”

“Me?” your eyebrows raised, “what about me?”

“Everything about you” he said softly in a wistful sigh.

“I don’t understand. Have I upset you?” you asked, trying to catch his gaze.

“No, no. You couldn’t”

You hesitated for a moment, then gently took his hands in yours, earning a sharp intake of breath, “please help me to understand”

“I—” his breath stuttered as he tried to find the right words to use, “you make me feel things that I’m not supposed to, General”

Your eyes widened slightly, your own breath quickening as his words sunk in.

“It’s hard not to. You…” he continued, tightening his grip on your hands and bringing them to his chest, “You're the epitome of grace, but also strength. You're… soft, gentle, and caring beyond measure, but also tough, fierce and ruthless to a degree I've never seen. You're level-headed, but foolish when it comes to that which you care about, and it's that display of humanity that—” he gulped, his gaze softening at just the idea of it, “it makes my heart ache for you. I know that I’m just a soldier to you but I— I'd give myself to you, over and over, even if every time it ended in tragedy, because there is no life I could live where you’re not a part of it, even if that’s just as my General. I'd do anything you asked, I'd die by your hand if you willed it, but I know that you'd never ask anything like that of me, and that's why I'm… in pain. Because I'd give everything to you, and you'd never take it”

It was hard to believe what you were hearing. You couldn't help the way tears gathered in your waterline at the affectionate words he was saying, observations about you that you had no idea he had been making. You had never realised that he cared so much, so deeply, in the same way that you cared for him. But the one thing that truly stumped you, was that Fives was genuinely convinced that you held no affections for him, that you just saw him in the same way you saw the rest of your men.

“Oh Fives” you spoke no louder than a whisper, releasing your hand from his to trail your fingers along his jaw and gently hold his face. His eyes fluttered shut, and an uneasy breath escaped him as he leaned into your palm with a pained expression. “You're right, I wouldn't ask anything of you”

The hurt was so clear in the depths of his eyes when they opened again. He tried to pull away but your other hand found his face, keeping his gaze locked on you.

“But… that doesn't mean that I don't want to”

His eyes widened at your words, but he stayed silent, as if waiting for you to continue. His gaze flicked to your lips momentarily, but it was clear that he wouldn't let himself indulge in his thoughts, that it had to be on your terms. You didn't know whether you agreed.

You took the lead nonetheless, guiding his head down to touch your forehead to his. Closing your eyes and focusing your energy on where your bodies connected, you reached out through the force. You tried to communicate to Fives all of the feelings that swirled within you, a cacophony of everything good and pure, manifested in a blending of colours and sensations, with a palette only holding the most pleasant colours. Deep blues waged war with vivid reds, a careful dance of remorse and desire, but atop all of it, a sense of calm.

You opened your eyes and met Fives’ gaze, a tenderness woven into the amber hues. That same calm feeling washed over you. You had always felt safe with him, and it went far beyond him being a more than capable soldier.

His mouth hung open fractionally, and you couldn't help but let your eyes wander across his face, taking in every freckle and scar en route to his lips. You tilted your face upwards tentatively, and Fives let out a shuddering breath. You could feel it on your lips, and it took everything within you not to shiver.

“Wait” his voice was quiet, but you heard the word clearly.

You pulled backwards, looking up at him expectantly, and watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“If you start this, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop”

You let a small smile lift the corners of your mouth, dropping your head to the side a little, “isn't that kind of the point?”

Fives let out a short exasperated laugh, “I mean it, General. Please… don't give me something without giving me everything, because I can't—”

“Fives” you called firmly, rubbing your thumb across his cheek to gain his full attention, “I need you to hear me, loud and clear”

His expression was still hesitant, but he nodded for you to continue.

“I do not say this lightly. You have made it very hard for me to follow the very ideals I am supposed to uphold from the moment you walked into my life. Though, it is not your fault, it’s mine. I could have made myself scarce, I could have tried to stay away, to let my feelings die out, but instead, I chose to nurture them. It would be easy to say that I don’t know why I did, to pretend it’s all some plot against me, but I do. It’s because…” you took a deep breath, “even though it will undoubtedly end in tragedy, I too cannot see my life without you in it, and I would give myself to you, I will give myself to you, because I am finally being honest with myself. I can finally admit that I care for you more than ideals that I would not chose for myself if my life was any different”

Fives’ eyes widened with each word you spoke, though ended up with a look of guilt plastered on his face.

“General, I can’t allow you abandon your beliefs, not for me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No Fives, it’s me that should apologise” you sighed, “I didn’t want to put you in this position, but I will not choose this for you. You have been afforded so little choice in your life, and I will not take away this one when it would have far more severe repercussions for you than for me”

Fives just stared at you with a plain expression, “you would have me? If I wanted that?”

“I want whatever you want”

“I want you” he replied breathlessly, bringing his forehead down to yours once more.

You smiled, “then you have me”

Fives immediately brought his lips to yours, all the hurriedness of the action melting away as he got his first taste of you. His mouth was heavy against yours, reaching inside you and stealing all of the breath from your lungs in a slow rhythm.

The way his lips tangled with yours was sending your mind into overdrive, though his hands remained firmly planted at his sides. Your own hands were on him; on his chest, in his hair, pulling him closer, and it was as if his brain was short circuiting. As if he'd spent so long trying not to touch you that he didn't even know what to do with himself.

“Fives” you mumbled against his lips, “you can touch me”

He breathed out heavily as he pulled away momentarily, “are you sure? I-”

“Please” you said desperately

Without need to be told again, he was groaning into your mouth, pulling you closer by your waist, fingers gripping onto your hips tightly and bringing you into his lap as he fell back on the cot. His hands began to map your body, covering every inch of skin he could find. For all that it felt like he had been restraining himself from touching you before, it seemed that now that he had got his hands on you, he wasn’t going to let go.

“I can’t believe this is happening” He breathed out as your lips travelled along his jaw.

You smirked at his aporetic tone, “And why's that?”

“I just didn't think—” his breath hitched as you found a sensitive spot behind his ear, “didn’t think you saw me this way”

“Hope you're not still thinking that” you mumbled against his skin.

“It's a little hard when you're—” you rolled your hips forwards, earning an uneasy groan from the man whose lap you were on, “—doing that”

“A little hard, huh?” you teased.

“General…” he growled in your ear and your lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

“What?” you spoke into his ear, in a voice as sweet and innocent as you could muster.

“You're playing a dangerous game”

“Am I?” You tangled your fingers in his hair, lightly pulling down as you found that spot behind his ear once more.

He let out a breathy groan, “fuck. General, you can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you interrupted, repeating the action.

“Alright, that’s it”

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he flipped the two of you over. He pressed his body into yours, taking your hands in his and intertwining your fingers as he pinned them to the cot. His kisses became even more heated, lips devouring yours and resting his weight into you. The intensity drew a small moan from the back of your throat, and Fives seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him even closer.

“Fuck” he hissed, “have you done this before?”

”Kind of”

He laughed, a breath huffed onto your lips, “kind of?”

“I might have—” your breath stuttered, his lips on your neck stopping your words, “—fooled around with someone a bit, before I took my vows”

Fives tutted, and you could feel him smirking against your skin as he dragged his lips across your pulse point, “and I thought you were a good jedi”

“Looks like any hopes of that have been lost now” you replied breathlessly, your head dropping against the mattress to allow him better access.

Fives chuckled, his thumbs rubbing circles against your palms, “looks that way”

His voice rumbled through your body, the reverberations sending waves of heat through your limbs. Your hand broke free from his hold as he danced his fingers across your thigh, and you took the opportunity to slide it underneath his blacks, feeling the warmth of his skin.

As if your actions were a command, Fives pulled away from you, just long enough to reach for his neck and slip off his top, never once taking his eyes from you. You ran your hands along his bare abdomen as he sat back, and he watched you take in his exposed form.

You were met by tanned skin, marked by the horrors of war; scars that wouldn't heal and surely cut deeper than the flesh. You outlined the more prominent marks with your first finger, before resting your hand against his chest, your gaze lifting to his face once more.

“Stars, Fives. You’re gorgeous”

He smirked a little, tracing his fingers over your waist, “nothing compared to you”

“I mean it, I— Maker, I’ve wanted you for so long”

You could see the way his eyes lit up at the comment, and he gripped onto your hip once more, “That’s high praise indeed, coming from you”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Just let me compliment you”

His smirk dissolved into a beaming grin as he trapped your head between his forearms. “No” he said simply, and any protests died on your lips as he captured them between his own.

Kissing Fives, being intimate with him in this way, just felt right. It felt as if it had always been this way, as if it wasn't something new. The way he touched you like he knew your body like the back of his hand, the way his force signature melded with yours as if they were one, it all felt so familiar.

When he slid his hands under your vest, and you peeled it from your body, somewhere in your mind you thought you should be nervous. No one else had ever seen you so exposed, but Fives’ adoring gaze, the way he was drinking in your body, his featherlight touches as he ran his fingers up your sides, you couldn't help but feel safe.

“You’re so beautiful”

He said it like it was a sinful confession, his words dripping with such devotional adoration that you couldn't help the blush that arose across your cheeks. He kissed down the valley of your breasts, mumbling fragments of acclamatory phrases as if he didn't have the breath to finish them. Your blood heated at his words. It sounded as if he were drunk, whispering secrets he wouldn't otherwise confess to.

“So pretty for me” you heard him say against your skin, and it drew a forceful shudder from you.

His hands were all over you as he continued to kiss down your body. Kneading your hips, caressing your breasts, stroking along your thighs. Every touch sent desire coursing through your veins. He knelt at your feet as he met the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him.

“General, can I—”

“Are you seriously calling me that right now?” you looked down at him in disbelief. He was in between your legs, asking to take down your nightwear and still calling you by your rank.

He let out a short self deprecating laugh.

“What would you like me to call you?” he asked, playing with the hem of your sleep shorts.

“I do have a name, you know” you informed him.

“I do know that” he chuckled with a fond smile, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, “is that what you’d prefer?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, coming to rest on your elbows, “you have another idea?”

“I have a few” he smirked, beginning to slowly pull down your shorts. “Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty…” he trailed off as he helped you detangle your legs from the nightwear.

You were now laid out completely bare to him and he had to take a deep breath, letting out a low whistle before he could start talking again.

“Then there’s always darling” he continued, pressing a kiss to your knee, his eyes finding yours again. “Sweetheart” he trailed kisses up your inner thigh and your breath became increasingly short, “or even… mesh'la, cyar'ika”

He placed his final kiss at the very top of your thighs, right beside where you ached for him the most, and the feeling of his hot breath against your core made your head drop back and your eyes flutter shut.

“Kriff, I don’t care. Call me whatever you want” you heard yourself say.

Fives’ eyes darkened as he softly chuckled, “Alright jetii'ika, be a good girl and lay back for me”

You obliged with a heavied sigh, and Fives’ grin only widened. Without much warning, his tongue found its place at the apex of your thighs, and all processing in your brain cut out.

The sound, let alone the sensation of him lapping at you was enough to twist your stomach with pleasure. His tongue worked with expert precision, the same precision you saw from his work on the battlefield, and suddenly you no longer scolded yourself for getting turned on by how good of a soldier he was.

He gripped your thighs as he brought you closer to him, his mouth consuming you and taking every ounce of pleasure with it. It was as if pulling this pleasure from you was second nature, as if it were his true duty to you. He was no longer a soldier of the GAR, he was the lone trooper in the invasion of your psyche, and he knew every trick to wind his way in.

You couldn't help the lewd sounds you were making. You had envisioned this situation far too often, but anything that Fives did was far exceeding your expectations. With every stroke of his tongue, every light graze of his teeth against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you drew closer to the edge, your insides constricting in pleasure and red hot desire.

Between swift motions of his tongue and lips, Fives let out his own pleasured noises, deep groans that reverberated against you and only sent you tumbling further towards release. He spoke honeyed words of praise against you, telling you how much he'd wanted this, how long he'd waited to taste you.

White hot bliss ran through your veins as Fives worked you through your high, taking every last drop of what you gave him. His large hands gripped your thighs and forced them open, not relenting until you had come down from the intensity of your release.

Your chest heaved as he pulled away, coming to rest his weight against your side. Your mouth hung open to collect your breath as he took your face in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone with the most adoring look plastered on his face.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah” you breathed out, a little chuckle following, “great”

He grinned, obviously proud of his handiwork, “you reckon you can give me another?”

Your eyes widened a little as your mouth curled into its own grin, and he pressed his body into yours, making you have to bite down on your bottom lip to supress a moan quite unsuccessfully.

“Can I take that as a yes?” he smirked at your reaction.

A laugh escaped you, “you can”

He was then kissing you again, this time more unhurried, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The intimacy of it made your head spin, which was only intensified when he lifted himself from you and removed his remaining pieces of clothing.

Watching him kneel between your legs in all his glory, even before he entered you, you thought that you could probably die happy now. There was no better feeling than that which you felt around Fives, and now, with his bare skin on yours, limbs slotting and tangling together, you felt complete.

Your bodies melded together, becoming one, and all you could see and feel was him, as if he was all that existed in the cruel galaxy you both inhabited. His eyes pierced yours as his face hovered above you, watching how he affected you. You placed your hand on his face, drawing his forehead to yours once more, and he turned his head to place a sweet kiss against your palm, even in the intense passion of the moment.

There was something so deeply arousing about how you were usually the one in control of everything, a legion of troopers at your command, but here, right now, Fives was the one in control of you. It was a welcome reprieve, but you wouldn't take it from anyone else. That much was obvious to Fives, the way you were writhing beneath him told him so.

With every action he took, he made time to worship every inch of your body, kissing your skin with a such a reverence that you had never received from anyone else in such a way. By the time your second release was washing over you, you were begging for him to follow you over the edge, and him being a obedient trooper, doing anything for his General, he accommodated your unholy pleas.

You remained joined as you both caught your breath once more, basking in the sweet ecstasy of your mutual fulfilment. You had never felt such euphoria.

Fives gulped at he looked into your eyes, a reservation about him.

“What is it?” you prompted, taking his face if your hands.

He sighed, a delighted sound that made your heart sing, “what happens now?”

You didn't necessarily want to think about it. All of the problems that you had described to Fives would still stand when your left the comfort of his embrace, but equally, something felt as if it had shifted. Fives was yours, and you were his. That was significant to you, and something about it made you feel invincible in that moment.

“I don't know” you admitted, wishing you could give a better answer, “but I'm not letting you out of my sights now, that’s for sure”

He grinned down at you as he tightened his hold, “You stole my line”

You laughed blithely, your head thrown back on the mattress as you revelled in the feeling of him against you for a long as you could.

“Well, I'm glad you feel the same” you conceded, your voice portraying a teasing edge, though your amiable smile gave away the sincerity of the comment.

“Oh jetii'ika, I don't even have the words to describe how I truly feel” he spoke earnestly, an affectionate smile lifting his lips as he brushed some hair away from your forehead and planted a kiss on the unveiled skin.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[sinisterexaggerator]

Tech and Hondo Ohnaka (Part 5)

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Death mention.

Fic Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired by Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone,." :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

*Welcome to another update! I am on a roll! I find writing shorter chapters helps me update more often! Enjoy!

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4 | Read on Ao3

Surprisingly, the pirate was not all talk. Tech was pleased, insofar as they had nearly made it to the mine undetected, Hondo leading the way with the clone in tow. Although, he had never felt so useless as he did now.

Feeling helpless was new to him, yet he was fully cognizant of his limitations, only pushing himself as much as he dared. While that meant he had to physically slow down, his brain was very much still active to his partner’s chagrin, the commando giving his two credits at every turn.

“It is prudent we remain vigilant and that we do not rush headfirst into something unprepared.” Tech hesitated. “What is your plan? You failed to mention it.”

Hondo did not answer.

“Do you have a plan?” Tech questioned. The scoundrel whirled around, the tail end of his coat swishing to a stop behind him.

“Let me remind you, you are dealing wit Hondo Ohnaka, de notorious pirate captain of de Ohnaka Gang! I am an expert strategist, once employed as an advisor tu Porla de Hutt for my excellent deduction skills, not tu mention I have both defeated and captured Jedi and Sith alike! Du. I. Have. A. Plan. Hah!”

Tech was not impressed. “Well?”

Hondo cleared his throat before turning back around. “Nu,” he admitted. “But dat does not mean we shall not be successful! Tings alllllways have a way of working out when Hondo es envolved.”

“That is less than reassuring.”

“Bah! What du you know?”

“Quite a lot.”

Hondo ignored him, skirting past an outcrop of rock to hug the shadows, veering far to his left. It was apparent that he meant to creep along the outer wall before attempting to enter, though Saw was close by, his lone man discussing something, both crouched down low in the dark behind a monolithic boulder.

“Do not attempt to sneak up on them. It will not end well,” Tech half yelled, half whispered, knowing that Saw would most likely shoot first and ask questions later.

“Hondo does not sneak,” the pirate shot back, picking up his pace.

Tech sighed in aggravation; how unfortunate that he should be hobbled and at the mercy of this freebooter. He was tempted to stun him to halt his advance, wondering if he should bind him in some manner until they could discuss things properly. Of course, he doubted the pirate would appreciate it. He would most likely try to leave him behind when the opportunity arose. No, as asinine as it seemed, it was best to let whatever nonsense was about to occur run its course; Tech reluctantly strove to remain at Hondo’s side.

“If you would only allow me to—”

“Hello, hello, my friends!” Hondo began, causing Tech to openly wince. His reaction was visceral, the clone unable to control his facial expression until it was already too late. Luckily, no one was paying attention to him, and he was still wearing his heads-up display, while Saw Guerra’s gaze was fixed strictly on the Weequay who approached them, his dark eyes filled with apprehension.

“Stop,” he commanded, standing to his feet with his blaster drawn and at the ready.

“Now, now, dere es nu need for violence. I have come tu help you!” The pirate smiled his most toothy smile. “And. En return, I hope you will help me.” There was a pause as he remembered he was not alone. “Annnd, dis other guy.”

“Who the hell are you?” Saw demanded, the other Partisan joining him. This man had also drawn his blaster. Tech had no desire to interact with Saw, but he would if he must. He supposed there really was no other alternative, as this facility was, for all he knew, the closest place in any direction that housed any sort of starship.

“I am so glad you asked! My name es Hondo Ohnaka, de infamous pirate and leader of de Ohnaka Gang. Perhaps you have heard of me?” The rogue’s smile broadened, as if he expected a positive answer. Saw’s eyes shifted to the Weequay’s right, finally spotting Tech standing just to the side and behind him, having chosen to remain in the dark.

“I know you ... why are you here?” he asked offhandedly, addressing Tech, though Hondo assumed he was speaking directly to him.

“Ah, yes! Good! I was hoping you would, as I aided you and your cause back on Onderon. Dose rocket launchers Skywalker paid me tu deliver did de job, I take et? As for de reason I am here—”

Tech blinked in surprise, his blurry eyesight homing in on Hondo—he knew General Skywalker?

“Not you, him,” Saw motioned with his head toward the clone waiting on the periphery. Tech recovered, taking a step forward to more formally join the conversation.

“You may consider that your doing.”

Hondo looked affronted at being so quickly dismissed, his gray eyes narrowing at Saw’s disrespect. “You are welcome,” the pirate seethed, thinking some kind of gratitude was in order after he had gone out of his way for this man so, so long ago.

Saw returned his focus to Hondo, only seeming mildly confused by Tech’s response. “Onderon is not something I find joy in remembering,” he explained. “It was with those weapons that I inadvertently killed Steela.” Saw’s brows furrowed at the memory and his voice softened. “I should have never brought down that gunship.” Then, he glanced back at the commando who looked rather worse for wear. “What do you mean by that?”

“Steela?” Hondo inquired, his voice having taken to a lower register, “was dat your … lovely sister? She was … so very beautiful. How I would have loved tu help her escape from dat war… En any case, I am sorry for your loss.”

Tech scrunched up his nose in distaste, finally pushing up his visor. “Now is not the time,” he informed the Weequay, whose current topic of conversation was irrelevant to what they had come here to accomplish. If he wished to befriend Saw, he was sure mentioning his sister’s physical attractiveness was not the way to do so, whether he gave him his condolences or not.

“When you triggered the explosives, you severed power to the railcars—the ones we were using for our escape. To keep a long story short, while I was successful at restoring power, it was not without sacrificing my own chance of getting off this planet. Truth be told, I am lucky to be alive.”

“He took a rather nasty fall … dedn’t you, Tech?” Hondo folded his arms across his chest. “And dat leads us tu your original question: ‘why are you here?’”

Saw looked between the two men. “You can put the blame on me all you want to, but what I did was necessary. We’ve been over this.”

“What you did was—”

“—Iiiiii am sure et was, my friend, aldough your actions caused an equal and opposite reaction.” Tech glared at the Weequay for having interrupted him for the umpteenth time, but he continued, nonetheless. “For you see, now I du not have a ship, and what I am hearing es et es due tu someting or another you have caused—dis explosion sending de clone you see here, and dis railcar, directly entu my SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Saw stated, “I’m sure this outpost—”

“—Et es not an outpost, but a lommite mine—” Hondo corrected him.

“—this mine has more than enough ships to get us both off this damn planet, as long as we can get past security. We were devising a gameplan before you two showed up, and I’d like to get back to it.”

“And what happened? Where are your other men?” Tech asked, ignoring his uncalled-for attitude. He thought Saw and his compatriots would have long since fled the system, though being several men down suggested something had obviously gone wrong during their retreat.

It was Saw’s turn to sigh. “We were overrun by troopers on the way out. We barely escaped the hangar, but were shot down by Imperial V-wings before we could break atmo. We’re … all that’s left.”

Tech pursed his lips. “And was it worth it?” he asked, unable to keep his irritability masked.

“Yes,” Saw replied in the same harsh tone, Hondo listening to their back and forth until he had ultimately heard enough.

“Gentleman, gentleman. All dat matters now es we are all witout ships, derefore I suggest dat we work tugether en order tu get off dis wretched—”

“No,” Tech and Saw said in unison, causing the pirate to frown.

“What du you mean nu?”

“It’s obvious we don’t see eye to eye.”

“What is obvious is that you would use us as a means to your own end. I have little doubt that you would leave us behind if it meant you would be able to escape.”

“I do what has to be done.”

“So, I am correct.”

“In your condition,” Saw made a point to look Tech up and down, “you would only slow us down.”

Hondo huffed, becoming increasingly irate. “You both have de maturity of younglings! Have you not heard de saying, ‘de enemy of my enemy es my friend?’”

Tech was indignant. “My squad thinks I am presumably dead; I would not be in this predicament if you had listened to reason.”

“Perhaps, but we can’t go back, and I wouldn’t change the outcome.” Saw nodded to the man at his side, who had until this point remained silent, preferring to stay out of the argument. “Let’s go.”

“You are just going tu leave us here?!” Hondo asked, raising his voice in anger. He had hoped to find an ally, especially as the clone he was toting around was in such bad shape. Realistically, he was not sure if they would be able to pull this off, though now he supposed they had no choice but to try by their lonesome, the pirate watching as the pair of Partisans snuck down further toward the entrance of the mine.

“May Rauk keep you,” Hondo offered with a sinister air, shifting to face Tech who stood immobile, staring straight ahead as he watched Saw and his partner wander off.

“Who or what is Rauk?” Tech asked, turning his head to look at him, though he was only a dark blob against a backdrop of rocks.

“De Weequay god of misfortune and death,” Hondo smiled. “Shall we?”

Tech gazed at him a moment longer, thinking to wish them harm was needless, yet he refrained from comment. “Do we have a choice?”

“I have a choice,” Hondo reminded him, “you du not.”

Tech bit back what he truly desired to say, knowing that nothing good would come from it. “Then I suppose we shall.”

[snapmite1998]

What if Maul didn't abandon his Mandalorians during the Siege of Mandalore? Instead, what if he orders Saxon and Kast to withdraw their forces from Mandalore and retreat to Crimson Dawn space?

Live to Fight Another Day

The tide of battle had shifted in favor of the Republic, thanks to the arrival of Bo-Katan's Mandalorian rebels. With his forces being pushed back, Maul, who was on the rafters of the domed city watched the chaos unfold below and knew that his plan to lure Skywalker and Kenobi had failed.

Sidious would obtain a new apprentice, and the galaxy would suffer for it.

With a frustrated growl, Maul contacted his Mandalorian lieutenants. "Saxon. Kast."

"My lord?"

The background noise of battle was heard over the comms, but Maul ignored it and gave new orders to his lieutenants. "This battle is of no further relevance," looking down to observe the battle, Maul's lip curled as he admitted his plan's failure. "Without the presence of Skywalker and Kenobi, there is no need to lose further men to this pointless conflict." Breathing deeply, Maul spoke regretfully her firmly. "We must withdraw from Mandalore."

"Withdraw, my lord?" Rook Kast asked, surprise in her voice.

"Yes, Kast," Maul confirmed. "Order the retreat. Once our forces have withdrawn from Mandalore, we will retreat to Crimson Dawn space to regroup, and replenish our numbers."

"My lord, with respect, we should display our strength as warriors—" Saxon began, but Maul cut him off sharply.

"You will do as I command, Saxon. I still have need of your services. You cannot serve me if you are dead or captured," Maul repeated himself. "Order the retreat. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Lord Maul." Rook answered immediately.

"As you… wish, my lord." Saxon answered next.

Ending communications with his lieutenants, Maul was momentarily blinded by the spotlight of his Mandalorian Kom'rk transport—The Nightbrother. "Lord Maul," the pilot acknowledged before speaking urgently. "We must depart, immediately.

oOo

On the battlefield, Rook Kast, who was engaged with Bo-Katan in hand to hand combat momentarily stunned her before turning to Saxon and barking out. "Run!" She then turned to all of her fellow Super Commandos. "Fall back, now!"

Saxon, who gunned down two advancing clones, whirled around mimicked Rook's call to retreat. "Move!" He then ran, along with the rest of the Super Commandos. "Get to the ships, now!" Activating their jetpacks, the Super Commandos fled the battlefield and soared straight up. As they shot the glass of the dome surrounding Sundari, they all soon burst through the glass and were greeted by handfuls of Kom'rk transports hovering over the city. As the deployment doors were opened, the Super Commandos boarded the ships.

Rook Kast, once making her way to the cockpit of the Kom'rk she had boarded, contacted Maul via hologram. "All Super Commandos are secured, my lord."

"Good," the former Sith Lord clasped his arms behind his back and nodded at Rook. "It is time to withdraw." He then gave her a questioning look. "We may never set foot on Mandalore again. Are you prepared for that?"

With a deep sigh, Rook's reply was firm and full of conviction. "My place is with you, Lord Maul," she continued. "We are with you."

With a smile, Maul's smooth voice flooded the Super Commandos' comm channels. "I assure you all, this is the not the end of our fight. It has only just begun," he then continued. "There will be future battles and glories. For now, we must slink into the shadows and wait out the storm that Darth Sidious will unleash upon the Jedi and the Republic." He then concluded with a firm tone. "We will have our revenge, my brothers! But now we must suffer patience and restraint."

To the Super Commandos, this was hard to swallow. However, they knew that Maul was right. They would need to bide their time, replenish their numbers, and make new allies before once more taking the fight to Sidious.

[calamity-aims]

first round of these guys was so fun I had to do another. We got Skimmer Whirl Fives Rex Cody Neyo Faie Twitch and Hunter!

(Skimmer belongs to @keldabekush Twitch belongs to @gaeasun and autistic Hunter is a @chiafett brainchild)

[roughtimeminicomics]

What If: Transformers were Star Wars Characters?

The BASIS I guess?: The Clone Army is massive, with hundreds of legions and units. But so do the Separatists. So secret legions are nothing new… but these two are definitely something else…

_______________________________________________________

THE 116th Legion (The AUTOBOT Legion)

ARC Trooper General Optimus

ARC Trooper Elita

ARC Trooper Prowl

ARC Trooper Arcee

ARC Trooper Hot Rod

Clone Commando Magnus

Clone Commando Springer

Clone Commando Whirl

Clone Commando Perceptor 

Clone Engineer Brainstorm 

Clone Engineer Wheeljack

Clone Medic First Aid

Clone Medic Ratchet

Clone Pilot Windblade 

Clone Pilot Jetfire

ARF Trooper Bumblebee

ARF Trooper Cliffjumper

ARF Trooper Smokescreen

ARF Trooper Hound

Bulkhead

Chromedome

Rewind

Ironhide

Chromia

_______________________________________________________

The Decepticon Legion

General Megatron

Super Tactical Droid Shockwave

Tactical Droid Soundwave

Super Battle Droids Ravage, Laserbeak, Frenzy, Rumble, Buzzsaw

B1 Commander Droid Starscream

Magnaguard Brawl

IG Assassin Droid Flamewar

Crab Droid Onslaught

Super Battle Droid Thundercracker

B1 Battle Droid Slipstream

Separatist Probe Droid Skywarp

B1 Battle Droid Blitzwing

Probe Droid Swindle

IG Assassin Droid Scrouge

Magnaguard Cyclonus

Commando Droid Inferno

Commando Droid Dreadwing

Commando Droid Lugnut

Commando Droid Tarn

Spider Droid Rampage

_______________________________________________________

Because I am a silly boi.

[mistflyer1102]

arrival

Part 1: Zey receives word of a new commando squad under his command.

Summary: The new squad returns to Coruscant.

--------------------------------

Jedi Master Arligan Zey arrived at the landing platform fifteen standard minutes before the new squad did.

This is going to go either really well, or really badly. He could sense Captain Maze a few steps behind him, mentally bracing himself against whatever they were about to face. Zey, despite having not met the squad yet, had already resigned himself to another Skirata - influenced squad. Even if Skirata hadn’t trained them himself, Zey had made peace with the matter, and was ready to get down to business. Per the squad’s orders, Zey could see they were returning from dealing with a Separatist, Bossban Soergg on Ansion. A clean kill, an otherwise unremarkable mission despite apparent disagreements over the specific method. He could at least give them some time off, he didn’t have another mission at the moment and preferred to keep at least one commando squad in reserve. Just in case. If he learned anything from Skirata’s little op, it was that a threat would most definitely strike at home.

He looked up only when the air around him began to pick up speed, whirling around as he remained absolutely still. A heavily modified Omnicron class attack shuttle came in for a gentle landing on the opposite side of the platform. He sensed rather than saw Captain Maze step closer to him, and he leaned back on a foot as the shuttle landed gently on the landing platform.

Then he saw the ship’s nose art.

Zey sighed as Captain Maze groaned. “Not a word, Captain, please. To either the squad or the senator,” he said, not looking away as Maze muttered something under his breath. “And not to Skywalker, if you can,” he added after a moment’s thought. “The boy is brash to begin with, and his fascination with the senator isn’t exactly a secret, but I think he’s one problem that you and I can agree on not wanting to deal with. And Kenobi isn’t around to pry him off, he’s the only Jedi Skywalker actually listens to,” he added as the shuttle’s engines powered down.

“I don’t think it will be a problem since Skywalker’s never in Central Command unless there’s a briefing. And if we have the ship off to the east side landing pads, it’s away from the 501st barracks, so they won’t notice either,” Maze said as he moved to stand beside Zey. “Still don’t want to make that bet about their trainer?”

“No. And not a word to Skirata when he decides to crawl out of whatever hole he’s gone and hid himself in.” Zey did glance briefly at his datapad just in case he had a missed message from the temperamental sergeant, but only found an update from Qiilura. Etain had signed it, but Zey knew her writing style well enough to know that he was not looking at something she had written. And now I have a missing Knight. Wonderful. He suspected that either Jinart or Valaqil wrote the message, but to cover up what, he didn’t know yet. “Remind me to check the movements of the 35th Infantry when we get back. They should have finished up on Qiilura by now, and Etain should be on her way back to Coruscant,” he said, tucking his datapad back into his belt pouch.

“Yes, sir.”

The shuttle’s ramp lowered, and Zey watched as four troopers disembarked from the shuttle. One was studying a datapad as a taller trooper nudged him not-so-gently back in the correct direction, and the third member, carrying a distinctive sniper rifle across his back, was scanning the landing platform as he followed the first two down. The leader meanwhile looked around as though searching for someone, and Zey wondered if Master Camas had briefed Clone Force 99 on their new reports. But the leader spotted him at that moment, gestured for his companions to follow him, and then they began walking over to Zey and Maze. They all came to a stop in front of Zey, and saluted. However, only the leader removed his helmet. “General Zey, sir,” he said as he looked at Zey.

Zey tilted his head in greeting. “Sergeant Hunter. Welcome back to Coruscant, and my commendations to you and your squad for a successful mission to Ansion,” he said.

Hunter inclined his head in return. “Thank you, General.” Zey didn’t miss the glance around the platform. “Will General Camas be joining us?” he asked as Zey gestured for them to follow him to the awaiting shuttle.

Zey shot him a quick glance. “No, your squad has been transferred to my command,” he said, looking forward before Hunter could look back at him. “Your datapads will have further information regarding the transfer, including a change in quarters while you are stationed here on Coruscant,” he said, glancing back at Hunter.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Of course. Well, then, sir, this is my team. Tech handles the technology and our ship, Wrecker is our ordnance expert, and Crosshair is our sniper,” he said, gesturing to each commando in turn. Zey inclined his head with each introduction, and then turned back to Hunter as he said, “And, well, er, we did encounter one small problem during the mission involving a gundark or two…”

“Bossban Soergg tossed us to the gundarks after confiscating and destroying datapads and comlinks, which is why there is a blank period between Day 5 and Day 14 of the mission logs. The only reason we got back on record is because an undercover Republic agent was kind enough to connect with us and allow us to add our mission details to his information,” Tech said, looking up at Zey. “I will, of course, have the entire damage report put together and submitted before tonight.”

Zey blinked. “Very well, thank you.” One of Sergeant Vau’s, then? Or still a sergeant we don’t know about? “Captain Maze will escort you to your quarters. Does your ship need repairs?” he asked, glancing from Hunter to the Tech.

“Minimal, we had a clean escape,” Hunter said right as Wrecker let out a whoop, startling everyone else.

“You’re Captain Maze? Ordo mentioned you the last time we talked to him!” Wrecker said, laughing as he moved between Crosshair and Tech. “He had quite a bit to say about you,” he added, sidling up to Maze. Maze still had his helmet on, but even without the Force, Zey could tell the ARC was annoyed now. Maze’s posture stiffened, his shoulders squared, and he slowly looked to the side as Wrecker fell in step beside him.

Zey looked at Hunter. “You know Captain Ordo?”

Hunter nodded. “Sergeant Kal Skirata trained us, the Nulls were around more often than not towards the end of our training at Tipoca City,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as Maze gave Wrecker a warning signal to back off.

It took every ounce of Zey’s willpower not to physically react. “Ah. I see. Well, for what it’s worth, Sergeant Skirata is on Republic payroll once more and is assisting the Special Brigade as needed,” he said, keeping his voice even as he felt a flash of annoyance and resignation from Maze at the mention of Skirata’s name. “He’s not currently here, but I’m confident he will resurface soon,” he added. Master Camas is going to have a field day when he finds out. Makes me wonder if he already knew about their trainer after all. I’m really glad I didn’t shake on that bet with Maze the other day about their trainer. “As it is, welcome back to Coruscant, gentlemen. Your quarters will remain the same as they were before, and I will arrange for your ship to be brought to the barracks for repairs. Any questions?” he said, coming to a stop in front of the shuttle. Hunter stopped with him.

Hunter shook his head. “No, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Zey inclined his head. “Go get some rest, you have all earned it,” he said, gesturing to the shuttle.

Hunter and his team saluted, and Zey stepped back as they boarded the shuttle. Captain Maze soon followed, and then the shuttle took off. Zey watched it leave before activating his comlink to call someone to bring the squad’s ship in.

[kaitoujokerscans]

The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH1

Notice!

"Tonight, I'll come to take the 'Crimson Crystal' from Mister Kaneari's possession! Phantom Thief Joker"

<1> The Usual Battles

A plump full moon was shining that night. A man's cry rang through the banquet room of the striking mansion seated right in the middle of the city.

"JOKER, YOU'RE SO UNDER ARREST!"

The voice belonged to Oniyama Dokusaburou, member of the international Anti-Phantom Thief Coalition and chief of Japan's Metropolitan Police Anti-Phantom Thief division. Next to him were his subordinates Ginko and Momo, similarly bristling in their police uniforms. Long-haired, short-and-stout Oniyama, lanky and bespectacled Ginko, and the petite blonde Momo looked as different from each other as could be, but their eyes were all fixed on the same thing. Standing in the direction they were glaring toward was a boy in a red suit. His translucent silver hair grew in pointy spikes, and his blue eyes gleamed with pools of light. Perfect teeth sparkled in his huge mouth, which was curved into a beaming smile. A golden badge in the shape of the letter J shone on his chest.

This was the man himself — Phantom Thief Joker!

"Ha ha ha. As promised, I've taken the 'Crimson Crystal'!"

Joker held a red gem in his hand. Another man shouted, resentfully eying the crystal. "KEEEH! Return my treasure, indeed!"

His big rectangular face was framed by rectangular glasses, and his big mouth was contorted as he glowered at Joker. He was master of the mansion, Mister Kaneari. He was also the owner of the 'Crimson Crystal' which Joker had just stolen.

"Sorry, Kaneari, but I'm taking this with me!" Joker twirled his purple cape.

"Not if I can help it! GET HIM!" Oniyama bellowed, at which the officers waiting for orders behind Ginko and Momo fell upon him.

"Whoa, here comes trouble♪" Joker gave a nonchalant smile before snapping his fingers. Just as he did, a peeling sound came from under Oniyama's sprinting feet.

"Hmm, what was that?"

Then suddenly, the carpet on the floor sprang up in front of Oniyama's eyes and tossed him into the air.

"Waaagh! What's going on here!?"

Once Oniyama landed, the carpet rolled him up like he was a sushi wrap.

"Uwaaaaaah!"

The supersized sushi wrap rolled up Kaneari and all of the officers in the room as it whirled towards the center of the banquet hall.

"There we go♪" Joker, in the very same center, said as he jumped over it. The carpet had been rolled up from all four edges and was now a giant ball stuffed with the officers and Kaneari. Oniyama and the rest of them, their heads sticking out of the ball, all yelled at him at once.

"Joker, you rascal, what did you do!?"

"I set it up from the start so that it'd shrink, by making a carpet out of Image Gum!"

The Image Gum that Joker mentioned is a phantom thief tool. A mental image is transferred into the gum being chewed, which then takes the form of anything one can imagine. There are no limits to the shapes it can take, and it can be used to create large things like a banquet room carpet or for wrapping oneself in a disguise.

"So you set up a trick!"

"Get us out of thiiis!"

Ginko and Momo, their heads squirming out from the gum, glared at Joker up above.

Joker grabbed hold of a large balloon and floated upwards. This is also one of his phantom thief tools, Balloon Gum. By blowing it just like chewing gum, the gum’s ingredients chemically react to form a gas lighter than air which is trapped inside the balloon. If held above one's head, it can lift up the weight of about one person.

"Ha ha ha! Well then, everyone, au revoir!" Joker threw a card up at the ceiling, where it exploded and opened a gaping hole. He was about to fly into the night sky, when— A large silhouette jumped in through the hole and popped Joker's Balloon Gum.

"What!?" Joker pivoted around and jumped down. As he did, the silhouette alighted in front of him. "Shadow!?"

The boy was the spitting image of Joker. He wore a purple suit and black cape. Like Joker, his cyan hair was growing in pointy spikes. However, his golden eyes had a colder glint in them.

The boy called Shadow glared sharply at Joker. "Hu hu hu, you're not getting away with the treasure so easily. I'll always be chasing after you!"

"Heh, it's a bit late for you to show up. You're always getting in my way every single time."

"Getting in your way is my purpose in life!"

"Your sights are set way too low!"

"Shut up!" Shadow pointed the umbrella he was holding at Joker. Energy focused at the tip and shone in a circle of light. "Bloody Rain!" At Shadow's yell, a beam fired from the umbrella tip.

"Ghh!" Joker threw himself in a hurry to dodge. The beam grazed Joker's cape and hit the wall. BOOM! It exploded, leaving a yawning hole in the wall.

"AAH! My house!" Kaneari cried from the gum.

—Just then, the sound of tremors came from somewhere within the house.

"W-What's that?"

"What's this sound...?"

Joker and Shadow looked all around, when Kaneari gave a smirk. "Oh yes, indeed. I have my beloved wife here with me!"

"Wife?"

"Now do come, indeed! My darling honey, Sacchan!"

Immediately, the chandelier swayed, and then a huge door flew open with a bang right off the hinges. The door crashed like a shot into the wall and splintered into pieces.

"HRMMMMMMUUUUUUUUH!" In came a bestial roar, along with a massively beefed-up, over-two-meter tall person. "Person" because their gender could not be immediately determined, but one could conjecture that she was probably female because of the lock of braided hair hanging from her head.

The woman entered the room with heavy, thudding footsteps and took a look around. "Ruffians have broken in, have they?" her throaty voice boomed. In contrast to her fearsome figure, the eyes she turned toward Kaneari were filled with gentle light.

"Yes indeed, Sacchan! That right there is Phantom Thief Joker!"

"Joker!?" The woman Kaneari called "Sacchan" spun around and glared at Joker. She was staring daggers at him. She was like a jungle tiger that had just spotted its prey.

"Eek..." Joker and Shadow instinctively cowered.

"Phantom Thief Joker, you have some nerve to sneak into our nest of love. And to steal treasure at that — a heinous crime! I will punish you!" No sooner than she had spoken, the woman swung down her gargantuan fist down.

"...!" Joker and Shadow threw themselves out of the way before the fist plummeted into the floor with a BAMMM! which made the whole house shake.

"She's too powerful..." Joker was recoiling, and for good reason too.

Sacchan, or Commando Satsuko, was a combat expert who had undergone special training in the world's strictest army. She could run faster than a cheetah, bite down harder than a hippo, and was mightier than an elephant. She knew survival techniques for every situation, even how to cook and eat a savage crocodile. A strange turn of events had led to her marrying Kaneari, but her combat capabilities had not declined at all.

"What IS she...!?" This was Shadow's first time seeing Satsuko, and he was stunned still by her appearance. Joker didn't miss this chance.

"Okay!" Joker seemed to have thought of something, as he took out cards and held them up facing Satsuko. "Straight Flash!"

The fanned-out Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and Cinque of Hearts cards shone. Blinding his opponent with their glaring light was Joker's trademark move.

"Ghh...!" The brilliance made Satsuko close her eyes for a moment. Yet when she opened them again, she saw something unbelievable.

"Just what is the meaning of this...?"

Strangely enough, there were two Jokers. Both of them were in red suits, and they were completely indistinguishable. Inside one of them was probably Shadow, disguised in Image Gum.

One of the Jokers grappled the other. "You! What the hell is this!?"

"The hell are you saying!? You did this, didn't you!"

The two of them grabbed at each other's lapels and squabbled. They looked like mirror images; seeing the pair with the same appearance and same face feuding with each other was somehow bizarre.

Satsuko watched them, not quite sure what to do, before she came to her senses. "E-Enough of the games, Jokers!" Satsuko fell upon them, trying to seize both of them at once.

Yet both of them were phantom thieves with equally impressive physical aptitude. Joker, as well as Shadow in the guise of Joker, nimbly bounced around to dodge. Even Satsuko was bewildered. Two people who looked exactly the same were jumping all over the place, so it was very disorienting. It was like she was fighting a ninja who had used a cloning art.

"Stop flitting about so much...!"

If she tried to seize just one of them, she would be distracted and the other one would get away, meaning there was a chance that she wouldn't get the real Joker. To prevent that from happening, she had to catch both of them at once no matter what, or so Satsuko thought.

If only I could tell which one was the real Joker...

Satsuko observed the two more closely and then noticed something. Something she had seen for a moment previously was now gone. Bloody Rain, the umbrella that only Shadow possessed. When Joker disguised Shadow, he had probably taken and hidden it. If Joker were to hide an umbrella he had stolen abruptly...

Satsuko cast her gaze around and spotted the black umbrella stuck in the chandelier. "There!"

True to form, Joker. Not only is he quick on his feet, he also makes good judgement calls... Satsuko stomped her foot on the ground with a thud, shaking the ground and making Bloody Rain fall from the chandelier.

"...!" The two Jokers took a quick glance at the umbrella. Written on one of their faces was: "Why was my umbrella there?", while the other's expression read: "Oh shoot, she figured it out!"

"There you are, Joker!" Satsuko ran up to the Joker who had "my plan's been exposed" written on his face and grasped him whole in her hand. "I've got you now, Phantom Thief Joker!"

"Guhh, oh shoot...!" Joker couldn't move, and his face contorted with pain.

"I've got him!" said Satsuko as she turned back around to Kaneari.

"Well done, indeed!" rejoiced Kaneari from the gum. "Now, return my Crimson Crystal!"

"...ha... it."

"Hm? What was that? I can't hear you, indeed!"

Then Joker raised his chin, looked at Satsuko, and grinned. "I don't have it."

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I said I don't have it. I don't, anyway."

"You don't? Then that means..." Satsuko looked up in realization, only to hear laughter from somewhere.

"Hu hu, is this what you're looking for?" She saw the other Joker standing at a distance. There seemed to be a colder glint in his eyes than usual.

Then that Joker's body puffed up and burst apart with a pop! Shadow, clad in his purple suit, appeared from within. In one of Shadow's hands was Bloody Rain, and in the other he was holding the Crimson Crystal.

"That's my Crimson Crystal, indeed!"

"Yeah, that's right. It's your treasure, the genuine article!"

"Why! Why do you have it!?"

Then Joker wriggled out of Satsuko's grasp and landed on the floor with a click. "Phew, that's some grip."

"Answer me, Joker! Why did you hand over the treasure?"

"Easy," Joker responded nonchalantly. "What Shadow wants most is to fight me. The treasure's secondary. So I promised to fight him at a later date if he'd just hold onto the treasure for me for a while."

"Hmph..." Shadow was averting his gaze, but that was enough proof to see that Joker was telling the truth.

"But willingly giving one's prized object to an enemy during combat is inconceivable. He could have run off with it."

"Ha ha, you don't get it. Shadow wouldn't do that."

"Tch..." Shadow scoffed.

"Regrettably, fighting me means more to Shadow than anything else. He wouldn't try to beat me through unfair methods like that."

"Hmph, course not," Shadow muttered after Joker spoke.

Then Satsuko chuckled and said, "I see, so he's not an enemy, but rather, a rival..."

"Well, guess you could say that!" Joker inflated his Balloon Gum and began to float toward the hole in the ceiling. "Shadow, gimme the treasure!"

"A week from now! Don't forget your promise to duel me!"

Shadow tossed the treasure up to Joker. Once he had securely caught the Crimson Crystal, Joker shouted down below. "All right, Kaneari, I've taken the treasure! Inspector Oniyama, Shadow, see you later!"

"You had so better wait, Joker!"

Taking one last backwards glance at Kaneari and Satsuko grimacing, Oniyama shouting, and Shadow tsking, Joker flew into the sky. His airship, the Sky Joker, floated in the night sky above him.

Just then, a panicked voice came from the communicator on Joker's wrist. "Joker-san!" It was the voice of Joker's assistant, Hachi.

"Oh, Hachi. What's up?"

"Terrible news!"

"Ah, sorry. If it's about the pudding that you were hiding in the fridge, I ate it this morning."

"You did!? ...Wait, that's not the problem! An advance notice has been delivered here, and it's addressed to you!"

"An advance notice?" Joker looked at the device with a puzzled expression.

[generic-ghost-ghoul]

Tickling Touching: A Hunter/GN!Reader Ficlet

This is the third in my Raspberries series about clones experiencing non clone “normalities.” Shout out to @cherry-cokes-world​ for the inspiration for this series.

For Dogma’s ficlet click here 

For Echo’s ficlet click here

For Wrecker’s and Tech’s ficlet click here

Rating: G

Pairing: Hunter/Gender Neutral Reader (no y/n)

Words: 637

Hunter felt the light tickling on his neck and whirled to face the offender. Grabbing the hand that had been assaulting his neck, Hunter stopped short of crushing the appendage in his grip.

“Sorry!” A soft voice wafted down from the steps above him. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist the urge.”

The clone sergeant rolled his shoulders almost imperceptibly before releasing the nat-born’s hand.

“It’s not a good idea to sneak up on a commando like that.”

“You knew I was behind you.”

“I didn’t know you were going to touch my neck like that. I wouldn’t have let you come along if I had known.”

The non clone was only with Hunter because of the information he needed from the civilian. This undercover op had dragged on longer than he’d liked and the whole of Clone Force 99 was ready for it to be over with, thus the civvie assistance.

“I’d ask that you not do that again while we’re in the field.”

“Can I do it when we’re not in the field.”

Hunter summoned his best impression of Crosshair’s glare and leveled it at the nat-born. Either it didn’t work on the civilian in front of him or Crosshair’s grumpiness wasn’t as intimidating as the Bad Batch thought. Hunter huffed and turned away, opting to not answer. Several hours later, he found himself back at their makeshift base of operations alone with the non clone.

“I can’t help but notice that you guys don’t seem to do physical affection. At least, not like I’m used to seeing it.”

“If you’re talking about that thing you did to my neck earlier, then no. We don’t do physical affection like you.”

He was met with a confused silence, which was somehow worse than the chattiness he usually encountered from this particular civilian. Hunter glanced up and was met by a perplexed stare.

“Thing I did - do you mean the tickling?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call it,” he shrugged.

“Hang on, let me see if I understand this. Are you saying that what I did was not tickling? Or do you mean that you don’t know what tickling is?”

“I was dumped out of a vat on a rainy planet, not born to parents. Take a guess which one I mean.”

The silence, again, was worse than the constant noise that usually came from the non combatant and general dead weight in front of him.

No, that wasn’t fair. This civilian had helped the Bad Batch more than had been expected, and hadn’t complained about the clones’ brusque behavior at all. Hunter heaved a quiet sigh and steeled himself to apologize for being terse.

“My parents used to do it to me.”

The quiet voice cut through the quiet before Hunter had a chance to.

“It’s something they did to show, I dunno, affection? They said they’d just be overcome with an urge to tickle my neck, to remind them what it was like to touch me. To remind them I was there and their’s.”

Hunter’s heart stopped when he saw the pinched concern on the other’s face.

“It didn’t occur to me that you might not be comfortable with casual touches like that. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

The clone sergeant stared wide-eyed for several moments before looking away.

“You don’t —” Hunter cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You don’t have to stop, just don’t do it when we’re in the field. I have to be able to concentrate and not be distracted in case anything happens.”

He tried to ignore how light he felt when he saw the smile his response got him. He also tried to ignore the smirks he got when his brothers later witnessed this chatty civilian come up and lightly tickle his neck with no comment from the sergeant.

[rinrinp42]

Morning Rin!! Maybe JangObi 7 or 11 from the prompt list you reblogged? :D

Ngl, 11 was like, half the reason that was the prompt list I went with

11. “Hold on, you died.” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick”

Obi-Wan gave a laugh as the Mando’ad helped him with the Separatist Droid Commandos.  If he had to have been separated from the 212th with the exception of Jester, Punch, and Sketch, he was glad that aid had come from a very good Mando’ad.  His armor was pretty too, all gleaming sliver, bright blue designs edged in black and green.  The message he was conveying through his armor was one that Obi-Wan liked.  There was something about him too...

Something familiar.

Then the droids were gone, and it was Obi-Wan, his men, and the Mando’ad.  Who was pulling off his buy’ce to dump water over his head.

“Hold on,” Obi-Wan said, staring at a dead man and a trusted face, “you died.”

Because this wasn’t a face artificially aged, this was a man who had earned each wrinkle in years and each scar from the galaxy he traversed.

Jango Fett gave him a slow grin, “yeah, well, it didn’t stick.”

It was said as if it didn’t matter that Obi-Wan had seen Mace’s saber take the bounty hunter’s head.  As if Obi-Wan hadn’t asked the Clones around him as Dooku slipped from their fingers to quietly spread the word to try and find Boba so the boy wouldn’t be left alone.

Another failure left at Obi-Wan’s feet he had thought.

Punch, who had been there, had heard the quiet plea of an injured General, stepped closer.  Not close enough to press up against his General, but the intent to give support was there.

Jango shrugged, “must have Icarii somewhere in the family.”

“Then,” Obi-Wan spoke slowly, taking in that information, “Boba left with you?  The Clones I asked weren’t sure where he had disappeared to.”

It was Jango who was now caught off guard.

“Yeah, he took me back to Slave I and we headed off to a medic I know.  Didn’t know you looked for him...”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, “I am not in the habit of letting a child go off on their own after a traumatic event.”

“No you keep that osik for your own hurts,” Jester mumbled.

Jango grinned and Obi-Wan’s heart ached.  Force but he had spent far too many of his formative years around dangerous, warrior people.  Their fight had felt more like flirting than much of his actual flirting, and seeing Jango grin?  He might as well start telling his men to call him Buir.

“Am I to take your aid to mean that you are now a free agent?” Obi-Wan asked, mind whirling with plans both for the war and for the riduurok’aka.  He was going to charm the beskar’gam off of Jango.

Jango gave him a slow blink.

“Why? You hiring?”

Obi-Wan could pretend that the look Jango gave him was simply assessing.  But the Force laughed as it teased that it was definitely a lie to say so.

And if the Force approved, well.  Who was Obi-Wan to go against it?

“Mhm, I’m sure we could find something for a man of your talents.”

“Only if I get to report just to you.”

(Sketch was furiously taking pictures of this, already dreaming up art pieces and ignoring the other two.

“...do you think this is what Natborns mean when they talk about seeing their parents flirt?” Jester mumbled to Punch.

Punch punched his arm with a mumble of “gross” but did not dispute it.)

[a-lil-perspective]

The Bad Batch and Axe/Knife Throwing

A/N: Uhhh I’ve had this in my drafts for weeks. I don’t actually know what this is. Just funky bro stuff that spiraled into like 2.5k words because I just don’t know when to stop, do I. The working title for this was “Bullshit and Bullseyes”, if that puts anything into perspective (I nearly made that the actual title haha). Anyway. Enjoy?

Technically, no; they didn’t need to spend credits on booking the space. By all accounts, there’s nothing wrong with chucking weapons against the Havoc Marauder’s hull. You wouldn’t believe the damage it’s withstood over the years.

Nevertheless, its walls had been taking quite the beating lately (honestly how many times has it actually been said “no weapons in the house”?) and quite frankly, Hunter was getting sick of grousing about the fact.

But when you’ve been cooped up in the vacuum of space for days as the Bad Batch has, you become acutely aware of the perpetual sensation of losing your mind—and of the stagnant air beginning to fester.

Let’s put it this way: Intelligence work is not kind to four Super Commandos, who’d just as soon wrangle a herd of Gundarks than allow anymore strategic analysis to keep them huddled around a comm system for days on end with no intermission in sight. It can’t be stressed enough the way this work was far, far beneath them. They’d just as soon tell High Command to get on with the invasion already (where their skill sets actually applied) and that if they want Clone Force 99’s help, they had best find a better way to hold their attention, because “tapping into enemy comm channels” ain’t worth a damn.

But, until then: there were other things that would do the trick.

Back within the planet’s gravitational pull once again, the Bad Batch prioritized their short timeframe of respite by not actually participating in the act of respite at all, instead seeking out the nearest weapons range. It felt something like freedom upon discovery.

The axe throwing establishment was practically empty when they arrived, which was the driving force in their eagerness, having booked the last session of the night. More room to work.

And, no one to tell you you can’t bring your own arsenal.

Hunter removed the strap of his weighty knife bag from his shoulder and set it down as the boys settled in their designated lane. While Wrecker and Crosshair dove for the bag like deprived womp rats, Tech had more gracefully found a spot on the nearest bench and planted himself to it, tapping away at the little box atop his vambrace. Predictable.

“Don’t even give me that look, Hunter,” Tech didn’t even look up, already privy to the quizzical gaze while fixated on his slew of technology. “You knew good and well I would be taking notes and collecting data during this session for the purpose of enhancing our overall performance going forward.”

As if he hadn’t been taking an infinite amount of notes the past five days.

“How ‘bout you take some notes on how to have fun,” Crosshair mumbled through the toothpick he anchored to the corner of his lip (Hunter always felt nervous when he worked out or trained with that thing in, just waiting for the day he finally chokes). The sniper didn’t bother looking back at Tech as he rummaged through Hunter’s bag in search of knives he deemed fit. He grinned wickedly at a particular set of five, all of them airy and tapered and perfect for his nimble fingers to sidle around. They were similar in size, if only a few inches wider, to the darts he usually threw in his quarters. He considered them with a sleight of hand, quickly piecing together an accurate projection of air velocity and the weapons’ overall weight.

Crosshair would make his mark. He always did.

It further came as no surprise that the Sergeant excelled in his turns from the get-go. He wasted no time in nailing bullseye after bullseye with a variety of weapons big and small. It was comical, the way Tech would make sounds of marvel and adjust his recording lens accordingly when Hunter would nail a pair of axes with a backwards throw or something of dramatic flair.

And Wrecker, oh, Wrecker.

Let’s say his turn was cut rather short—as were the rest of his brothers—when his very first throw, bearing as much care a demolition expert could muster, drove straight through the target in its entirety and brought the entire structure down wall-to-board. Hunter shuddered, grimacing instinctively at the harsh clang of colliding metals and wood that ended in a timbering heap.

Wrecker merely flashed a sheepish smile.

Hunter bit back his frustrated sigh, but the one expelling behind him was unmistakable. He whirled around to find the sensation to be correct, and that the expression marring the Devaronian’s features was unsightly.

Great. The owner of the establishment.

“I’ll pay for that,” Hunter offered immediately, gesturing awkwardly to the ghastly pile of materials. It was an auto-pilot response, really; Hunter was used to cleaning up after his rowdy bunch by now.

“Got that right,” the Devaronian rumbled, cracking his brooding knuckles as a statement that seemed more mindless than anything; he must’ve realized it foolish to get into it with four Super Clones. He turned around and stalked off, but not before grumbling something about the Clones being “mindless rank weeds” and “no better than droids”.

Wrecker must not have heard thank the Maker, otherwise the entire building could’ve been brought down on their heads in nothing short of an emotional outburst. Crosshair simply threw a crude gesture to the Devaronian’s retreating backside. It was either that or the knife in his hand.

“Cross, put your finger down dammit, we’re trying not to cause trouble here,” Hunter hissed. “You really wanna piss off a Dev?”

“You really wanna piss off a Crosshair?” Wrecker interjected with a wicked chuckle, always at the ready to tango with Crosshair and trouble.

He had a point, though.

Crosshair made a deep scoffing noise in his chest and simply turned his attention back to the dilapidated target. The sniper with no fear. Or so he’d like everyone to believe.

“Sorry, Sarge,” Wrecker rubbed at the back of his thick neck, having gone back to anxiously surveying the damage.

“Let’s just switch lanes,” Hunter countered coolly, helping Tech gather up their weaponry and move over one. It’s not like the owner would let him (or his pocket) forget, so there was no use worrying about it.

With a fresh target and a fresh turn at the ready, Wrecker eagerly began to ask for a re-do with the axes he skewered with moments ago only to be let down—gently, of course. Hunter wasn’t a mean brother, for fierfek’s sake.

He felt a bit guilty over limiting Wrecker’s turns but honestly, what was he thinking, bringing them to a place like this? It’s too... normal for Commandos—whatever ‘normal’ is. They would’ve been better off back on the Marauder.

No they wouldn’t have.

Maybe that’s why Hunter willingly ventured out on a weekend evening in the Coruscanti Districts for that sense of normality for he and his brothers; as if it could actually be found in the bustle of city life and whatever resided within.

It’s not that he wanted them to fit in, per se—Hunter can speak for the four of them in that they’re secure in their abilities and standings. But it’s as if he wanted something... grounding. In the middle of a war. Certainly a foreign term to both soldiers and citizens alike.

Grounding. Something to give the boys a sense of fulfillment and a taste of youth, even if only for the night. No expectations, no methods. Just Serotonin and sibling rivalry. Fulfillment.

Wrecker was certainly feeling fulfilled over the knives he opted to throw instead, much lighter and more controlled than the axe—which was a shame, really; he was very good at them. You haven’t quite lived until you’ve seen Wrecker at full capacity in his brute strength. The axes were just an inkling of his potential. Despite the fact that the majority of knives completely disappeared in his wide expanse of palm, he could still stick them with deadly force. Tech especially made relevance of the fact, insisting he show Wrecker a recap of his feats later.

When he wasn’t recording and plugging in data for the other throwers, Tech went a few rounds with Hunter’s smallest knives: quick and sleek and agile, much like the goggled member himself. The preference of axe or knife was divvied between the group: axe’s were more Hunter and Wrecker’s thing while knives were more Tech and Crosshair’s.

It took a bit of encouragement for Tech to actually complete his turn, as he was more concerned with the preliminaries and technicalities instead of the actual throwing. He’d stand there for what felt like several minutes, considering and trying to incorporate the use of his tech until Crosshair—how dare he—cut through his concentration with a sharp demand to “Just. Throw.”

It was rather unfortunate that there was only one target available to four people wanting to use it simultaneously. It seemed the members of the elite Commando squad still hadn’t mastered the art of patiently waiting their turn.

Hunter couldn’t help but find the hilarity in that Tech managed to land several of the knives as ‘butt sticks’: handle side in. He chuckled to himself. Only Tech.

The engineer claimed the act was wholly intentional. Hunter thought his witty brother was just trying to excuse a simple over-rotation. Tech had the aptitude for speed under his belt, but sometimes he had trouble controlling his speed. But if you thought that hindered Tech’s ingenuity or prowess in the slightest, you were sorely mistaken.

It’s times like these Hunter felt that familiar swell of pride in his chest as he relish his brothers’ unique array of strengths, weaknesses, and opportunes. All of it played a monumental part. The Sergeant in him couldn’t ask for a more proficient squad. The brother in him couldn’t ask for more unique siblings.

In no time, all four men had each accumulated their own sheen of sweat, the byproduct of a solid hour’s workout—no, two hours (Hunter should know by the way he grudgingly dumped another handful of credits into the Devaronian’s on the hour), their allotment extended all because the bros refused to be done, reduced to acting like petulant children because of.

Speaking of petulant.

“Who’s in the lead now, Tech?” Crosshair asked through a lingering pant, breaking from his turn as he took a seat next to the human scoreboard. He accepted the cool rag Tech handed him with a curt nod and slung it over the back of his neck to soak up the sweat, rolling his toned shoulders and shaking away the thought of potentially having to break from the rifle tomorrow because of how much he overdid it with the knives. Sore shoulders made for shit shots.

Tech chewed his lip and shot a single, timid glance up to Cross, who suddenly realized that maybe the gifted rag rapidly warming behind his neck was actually just an act of grooming for the disappointing news to come.

Tech cleared his throat. “In the current overall standing, it appears that Wrecker takes the lead, with Hunter a very close second, me of course making the ranks, and you being last—”

“Aw hell no,” Crosshair yanked the rag off and threw it to his feet as he pulled the toothpick out from between his now grit teeth, jabbing it around the room in emphasis. “I’ve easily got the best aim around here, I ain’t the one who destroyed an entire target and I didn’t miss one damn time—”

“It is not about missing, Cross; there are many factors to consider in the overall performance,” Tech answered matter-of-factly, with maybe the slightest hint of sympathy (more like irritation) laced within.

“And that includes humility,” Hunter chimed in, crossing his arms.

Wrecker and his lack of knowledge on appropriate social cues left him cheering over his victory, and Hunter forced himself to swallow the smile tugging at his lips. Few things in life filled him as much as Wrecker’s youthful exuberance. It was infectious.

He gave a light shove to the solid mass of man. “That means you too, Wreck.”

“Bullshit...” Crosshair sulked, numbingly processing his loss. He found himself leaning into Tech’s supportive pat on the back, suddenly too tired to care about his dwindling dignity or even any of his prior winnings in the past. He’ll forever be consigned to his dangerous competitive streak and that’s that.

“You’re just a sore loser!” Wrecker was grinning wide again, all teeth and triumphant. Crosshair scowled further and yes, he was actually pouting up from his spot on the bench thank you very much. Blackmail him later.

“The only thing that’s gonna be sore is your ass when I shove my foot up it.”

“Hey.” Hunter’s cue to intervene. “Settle it down. We had a good run tonight, blew off some steam, got a nice workout and stretched the legs. Let’s head back home, yeah?”

Hunter received murmurs of agreement save for Crosshair, who responded with silence, which was his answer.

The Bad Batch gathered their things and headed out, with Hunter paying the owner for the property damage on the way (reaching up to smack Wrecker in the back of the head just for good measure), and the alien made no attempts at subtlety in his relief over the way the chaotic bunch were finally departing. Apparently, the Bad Batch showcased some of the more poorer examples of decent clientele.

Funny that one might assume ‘decent’ and ‘Coruscant’ actually go together.

As they emerged back into the flow of the planet-wide city, the near-midnight breeze quickly catching in all of the sweat spots, Wrecker stopped in his tracks, having been eyeing a dejected Crosshair on the way.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, vod?”

A timid pause. “Can we get ice-cream? I think Cross here could use some. With sprinkles and a starcherry on top, just how he likes it.” Wrecker scooped up the lanky brother in question, who squawked in protest. “And a nice, squishy Wrecker hug.” He pet Crosshair’s head. “That always helps him feel much better about me winning.”

[arctic-the-archaic]

Day 3: Unrequited

No.

No.

No.

Not now. Not the time Fives.

These thoughts ran through the ARC trooper’s head as he dove out of the way of a thermal detonator, letting loose a shout of “Grenade!” to warn the troopers behind him.

She was always present in the corner of his visor. Always present in the back of his mind.

The blue saber twirled elegantly through the air, bisecting a B2, deflecting a flurry of bolts from a Droideka, and plunging straight through a Commando’s chest.

Beautiful…

Fives! He scolded himself. This is not the time. You can fantasize all you want later. Besides, there’s no way she feels the same. She was just being nice last time.

He was referring to General Ti’s visit to Coruscant a few months ago when the 501st had been unable to head to Kamino to replenish their depleted forces.

Glancing to his right, he saw Commander Colt dragging Commander Shield back into cover. The Commander of the Kamino Defense Force had a blaster hole in his chest-plate. Fives had watched him get cut down when he went for a brother that had caught det shrapnel to the legs and collapsed. He watched a pair of medics wearing the KDF’s colors of white and grey bolt from cover towards their injured Commander. Fives didn’t hesitate; He stood up and began blasting away at any droid close to the duo, hoping to draw fire. That’s exactly what happened, a barrage of blast fire flew towards him; He dodged most of it, but one bolt hit him square in the shoulder, knocking him down.

The ARC trooper grunted as he hit the durasteel floor and had the wind knocked out of him. “Ugh!”

He saw the duo of KDF medics reach their injured Commander, but one looked over at him. Fives flashed him a clone hand signal: I’m good.

The medic nodded and went back to working on Shield.

Fives growled and climbed to his feet, turning his head to investigate the blaster impact, seeing that his pauldron had caught the bolt. He nodded to himself and looked up, seeing Shaak Ti getting surrounded. A fierce sense of protectiveness welled up in him and he straightened to his full height, looking over at Colt, Havoc, and Blitz. The three ARC Commanders of Rancor Battalion. “You three, with me! The General’s cut off!”

The trio didn’t even object when they saw the situation. Fives leaped over the crates he was taking cover behind and blasted an Aqua Droid before rolling forward, kicking a B2 to the ground and putting a bolt through its CPU.

Colt sprinted forward and tackled a Commando droid, ripping its head off with his bare hands and throwing it at a B1, knocking it down.

Blitz pulled a droid popper off his belt, shoving it into the hands of a B1 and kicking it into a cluster of Aqua Droids, deactivating all of them. Without missing a beat, he ejected his vibro-blade….

….which Havoc caught without preamble, already holding his own vibro-blade. He drove both into the neck joints of a pair of Aqua Droids, sending them to the ground.

Fives sprinted towards Havoc, who had kneeled to retrieve his blades. He palmed a droid popper and leaped onto Havoc’s back, then leaped again as Havoc rose up when he realized Fives’ intent. He went sailing through the air, lobbing the EMP grenade towards the droids surrounding Shaak. It detonated high enough to where it didn’t deactivate them, but it sent glitches through their systems. Fives landed with a roll, transitioning smoothly to his feet and bringing his DC-17s to bare, blasting away at the glitching droids. A Commando got its head slagged, a B2 had its legs scrapped, the list went on. Leave her alone you fekking Clankers!

He watched as Shaak took advantage of the situation, cleaving an Aqua Droid in two, impaling a Commando, and then, because she was no longer overwhelmed, force pushed the Droideka off the edge of the platform into the water.

Utterly magnifi— kark it! He caught himself before the thought finished. Stop. She doesn’t care.

Fives sidestepped a Commando’s vibro-sword, shoved his own vibro-blade through its shoulder joint, then kicked its legs out from under it. As it fell, he planted his boot in the middle of the thing’s back, forcing it down onto the blade and shearing off its arm. And then he put a few holes in it for good measure.

Looking over at the Togruta who refused to leave his mind, he found her smiling at him. No. Don’t do that. Don’t smile at me like that when there’s no way you could possibly care for me like that. He grimaced.

“Thank you, Fives. You not only saved me, you broke the Separatist assault.” Shaak said to him in her signature smooth tones that had the trooper fighting not to shiver in his armor.

Fives looked around the hangar they were in, sure enough, the droids were gone. There were dozens of shinies (well, they weren’t anymore) and veteran KDF, 501st, and 212th troopers spread out all through the hangar. Fives was so caught up in his head that he hadn’t heard the troopers’ rally with a cry of ‘Five shots, Five kills!’ in a reference to the ARC trooper himself. He even saw Shield propped against a crate with a blaster in his hands, his two medics at his side.

He looked back at Shaak Ti, knowing if he stayed in her presence for any longer he was going to say something stupid. “Just a day in the life of an ARC trooper, General Ti.” And then he whirled and walked off, mentally repeating the mantra of She doesn’t care, She doesn’t care, She doesn’t care.

What Fives had left too fast to see, was the Togruta raise a hand to try and stop him, then lower it, her expression remaining neutral, but her sapphire eyes shining with sadness.

She cares.

Man, Fives really needs to get out of his head. Another one I’m proud of. Also, I apologize for the lack of a read more link, because I’m on mobile and have no clue how to do it even after literal hours of searching. But, I hope you like it! @painkiller80

[ace-oreos]

Alpha-17 Umbara AU

Not a fix-it or anything, because really, there’s just too much to fix on Umbara. This is more my bitterness over Alpha being written out of The Clone Wars and my take on how he would’ve reacted to Krell. Also, I’m horrible at titles, so I’m sticking with what I have for now. 

Of all the planets Alpha had been stuck on for an indefinite period of time, Umbara was close to becoming the worst, surpassing even Jabiim.

Technically, he wasn’t attached to the Five-oh-first. As an ARC trooper, he fell under the jurisdiction of General Arligan Zey and the Special Operations Brigade. Alpha had only agreed to this mission because... well, pretty much because Obi-Wan Kenobi had asked for him specifically. The Knight had claimed it was because Torrent Company would need all the support they could get, but Alpha suspected he was worried about his former Padawan as well, meaning Alpha was now stranded on Umbara under the command of a general he despised.

He didn’t know why Skywalker had been recalled to Coruscant. They’d claimed it was an emergency, but at this point in the war, everything was an emergency. It was all too neat for Alpha’s liking: Skywalker removed from the battlefield and replaced by a trigger-happy, casualty-deaf Jedi general who was loathed by the entirety of Torrent Company. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do much more than follow whatever orders he was given and watch as Torrent’s ranking officer fought a losing battle with his new general. 

Of course, just because Captain Rex saw it best to carry out Krell’s orders to placate the old lunatic didn’t mean Alpha shared the view. Oh, Alpha had done his job to the expected standard. He just hadn’t done it quietly. It was driving Krell up a wall, and Alpha felt no remorse. Outright sabotage would lead to punishment for sure, but Krell couldn’t have him reconditioned for his covert rebellion. 

If anything, the general would kill Alpha himself and be done with it.

Alpha shook his head to stay awake. He’d been on watch for three hours, and nothing remotely unusual had occurred. Given the Umbarans’ aggressive campaign thus far, the lack of hostile activity made him uneasy. Maybe ARCs were supposed to be all deception and stealth - and he could be if the need arose - but he found things simpler when the enemy was in plain sight. Plus, the Umbarans’ familiarity with the landscape was a significant advantage; they hadn’t wasted a single opportunity to use it against the Five-oh-first. 

The constant darkness only added to his misgivings. The shadows had eyes and ears. Although Alpha had no love for the enemy, he had to respect their tactics. We don’t know where they could come from, what areas are best for an ambush, and we can’t safely follow them if they retreat, he thought. The Umbarans had done their job well.

He was drawn from his thoughts abruptly. Something was definitely watching him. Just as he shifted his weight casually, preparing to fend off attackers, another figure in white armor appeared out of the gloom. Before Alpha could warn him of nearby hostiles, the trooper said, “General Krell would like to see you, sir. He’s in the command center.”

Alpha hesitated before answering, trying to detect any enemy presences. His helmet sensors gave no indication of additional life-forms. Sighing, he said, “I’ll see him when I have a replacement. I’m not listened to him complain about proper security again.”

“I’m supposed to relieve you, sir,” the other answered. He sounded young; Alpha wondered if this was Tup, the rookie the other ARC had befriended. He wanted to ask - oh, that would infuriate Krell, making him wait - but the kid continued, “Um, he said as soon as possible, and... and that he doesn’t want any excuses.”

“Right,” Alpha muttered grimly. “Thanks, kid.” 

***

The atmosphere in the forward operating base was taut from the moment Alpha strode in. He removed his helmet, noting the tense air, and approached the general. The Besalisk was studying a holographic map of the Umbaran base, one of his four hands resting on his lightsaber. Steeling himself for conversation, Alpha said, “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Alpha-Seventeen,” Krell said without looking away from his map, “why have we not attacked the enemy’s base directly?”

“I don’t have the authority to do that, sir,” Alpha ground out.

“You are a captain, are you not? You have seniority over CT-7567. Take command of this company and do what the rest are too cowardly to attempt.”

Alpha began forming a biting retort - starting with the use of names rather than numbers - but Krell’s voice washed over him, drowning out his response. The general was right. He was an Alpha ARC, the first generation of commandos trained by Jango Fett himself. If they crushed the Umbarans at their source, they would win. Rex was a fool if he couldn’t -- 

Alpha bit down hard on his lip, and the thoughts faded. He glared at Krell, who seemed oddly satisfied by something. Mind trick, Alpha fumed. He’d never felt the push of the Force like that, but he was certain that it had been Krell’s influence. It took all of his self-control not to lunge at the Jedi and introduce him to the unfriendly side of his combat knife.

“Problem, Captain?” Krell asked. Alpha was hyper-aware of his surroundings, the way Krell’s hand was slowly tightening around the hilt of his lightsaber...

“How many?” Alpha growled. He realized his hands were shaking with anger, and quickly clenched them. “How many of them are you controlled, you two-faced hut’uun -- ”

He was cut off by the wailing of an alarm. Before he could pinpoint the source, an explosion rocked the base. Then another. Air strike. Shabla air strike.

Alpha snapped his helmet on, promising himself he would confront Krell as soon as the next opportunity presented itself. Then he stormed out of the command center to confront their attackers.

The base was in chaos as Torrent Company tried to assemble themselves while blaster fire rained down around them. Alpha found Krell immediately. He was in the thick of the fray, lightsabers whirling, bellowing orders at the scrambling troops. For a moment, he looked like any other Jedi fighting alongside his men.

Alpha knew better.

Maybe he was just more callous than the other Jedi, Alpha mused as his body reverted to autopilot. He eliminated Umbaran soldiers with cold efficiency while his mind raced, trying to make everything fall into place. Maybe Alpha had become too accustomed to General Kenobi’s hearts-and-minds approach.

Or maybe Krell was a traitor.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of immediate danger. Blue light flared across his vision, and for a wild second he thought of Kenobi or Skywalker.

Then the pain registered, and he fell. The din of battle was oddly muted. Just as his brothers’ white armor started to blur, Krell loomed out of the darkness. Alpha raised his hands to defend himself - his blaster had been knocked out of his hand when he collapsed - but Krell wasn’t attacking him. The Besalisk was slicing through the ranks of Umbarans, still roaring orders.

I hate you, Alpha thought. Despite his weakening grasp on consciousness,  anger flashed through him with perfect clarity.

Krell faltered, looked down at him. Through the pressing shadows, his eyes seemed to glow a sickly yellow-gold.

Then the darkness overtook Alpha, and the battle disappeared.

***

The Five-oh-first’s medic was calm, levelheaded, and skilled - everything a combat medic should be - but he was also adamant that Alpha would not be participating in the next battle. “You’re lucky the general was there,” he said, sounding as though he didn’t quite believe the words. “He saved your life.”

So he was indebted to Krell. Wonderful.

When Alpha tried to stand to look around the medbay, Kix had finally lost his patience. “It’s bad enough that Jesse and Fives are going to be executed!” he snapped. “We can’t lose two ARCs!” 

The word execution and a wave of nausea forced Alpha to sit down hard. Death in battle was one thing. It was the honorable thing, the end any trooper knew he would meet someday. But execution? Two men shot by their own brothers, and for what?

For disobeying orders. For breaking the oath they’d all taken from their very first breath: obey the Jedi.

Alpha wanted to rebel. To see Krell executed, not two brothers. It wasn’t right. He didn’t know much about justice, but he was sure this was not it. Alpha closed his eyes, seething. He was powerless. Completely, utterly powerless in the face of Krell’s tyranny.

A despair unlike anything he’d ever known came over him. Clones never had any say in their own lives. They couldn’t choose where they went or who they fought, and they certainly couldn’t choose their deaths. The fury and resentment coursed through him as he lay in the medbay, surrounded by wounded and dying brothers. Somewhere nearby, two more were facing death for insubordination. Two more numbers in the ranks of the dead. They were all just numbers in the end; what did it matter how they died? 

The anger didn’t leave until a brother burst into the medbay, gasping that they were under attack by the Umbarans once more. Clutching his side as he wheezed for breath, the kid burst out, “The general said the enemy - the enemy is wearing our armor.”

A blast of rage drove Alpha to his feet. He ignored the protests of the men around him as he grabbed his blaster and snapped his armor into place. The enemy was wearing their armor, and wielding their weapons.

The enemy was wearing robes and carrying a lightsaber, too.

[inkognito97]

What about an AU where QuiGon survives and takes Anakin as his padawan and they are off doing whatever...ObiWan is a new knight and lost with his master having dropped him for Anakin. He goes to Kanima and find the clones and teaches/takes care of them and becomes their fav person. Fast forward to the clone wars and QuiGon doesn't understand why the clones are so cold to him and Anakin

“Are yousure you are ready to go to Kamino?” the question was innocent enough and eventhough it had been Mace Windu who had asked, Obi-Wan knew that the man wastruly concerned for his wellbeing. And from the looks the other Council memberswere giving him, he was not the only one.

“YesMaster. I am ready to accept this mission,” he hesitated, “In fact I NEED tohave this mission.” He didn’t say that he desperately needed to escape thetemple and also a certain tall and long haired Jedi Master. Then again, hedidn’t need to, the Masters around him already knew his motives, yet they didnot judge him for them. Qui-Gon had always insisted bitterly and with a tint ofdisgust, that he was the Council’s favorite.

The darkskinned Korun Master exchanged a brief glance with Yoda, who had yet to sayanything to this whole matter.

“Well, ifyou are truly sure of this…” the Korun Master trailed off.

“I am,” heanswered.

“Then go,you shall,” said the green troll.

A wholemountain was lifted from Obi-Wan’s shoulders. In the privacy of his mind, hehad feared that they would refuse his request for this long term mission. “Thankyou Masters,” he bowed low.

And withthat Obi-Wan Kenobi, newly knighted Jedi, left the Council chamber to step intoa new section of his life. He had no regrets however. Of course hisapprenticeship could have gone better, but it also could have been much worse.At least he HAD reached his goal, he was a Jedi Knight now. That had alwaysbeen his dream and he had reached it only thanks to Qui-Gon Jinn. Still, it hadhurt when the tall and long haired man had not been there for his knightingceremony. It had been Master Yoda who had severed the braid, because Qui-Gonhad not been present. Afterwards, when the ceremony had been held and whenObi-Wan had returned to his newly assigned rooms, the Jedi Master had appearedand apologized. Or at least as close to an apology as Qui-Gon Jinn would come.Actually he had just said that he regretted that he had not been there, thoughhe had NOT said that he had regretted spending the time with his new Padawan.Obi-Wan had dismissed it and bid the slightly stunned Master a nice eveningthen, before closing the door behind him and heading for the Council chamber,where he was now. Qui-Gon had surely expected to be handed the severed Padawanbraid, yet Obi-Wan had not given it to him. He had given it to Yoda, for safekeepingand in case that he would someday change his mind. Then again, Yoda deserved itprobably almost as much as Qui-Gon, because without the Order’s Grandmaster,Obi-Wan wouldn’t be here today either. It had been the green troll’s meddlingthat had made him an apprentice in the first place and it had been the wiseMaster’s guidance and words that had more often than not helped him.

The gingerhaired Knight sighed. That was all in the past now. What mattered, was hisfuture. And his future awaited him on Kamino, where he was supposed to teachthe clones they had discovered just recently. It was an important task, onethat would take a lot of time, but he was fine with that. Of course he wouldn’tbe able to see his friends and fellow Jedi very much, but at least he wouldn’tneed to see Qui-Gon and Anakin – the latter did not like him anyway – either.And who knew, perhaps the clones would be just as great comrades as his fellowJedi…

(a fewyears later)

“The 501stBattalion, at your service,” the clone in blue-white armor saluted and eventhough Qui-Gon couldn’t see the man’s face, he knew that he was glaring angrilyat him. Though why, was beyond the tall Jedi Master.

“Qui-GonJinn, I will be you new General and this,” he motioned to the blonde man to hisright, “is my Padawan Anakin Skywalker, your Commander.”

“CaptainRex, Sir.” Qui-Gon nodded his head. A name instead of a simple identificationnumber, he could definitely work with that. In all honesty, he preferred hissoldiers to have names, they were sentient beings after all. Still, he doubtedthe Kaminoans would share this sentiment, so he wondered how the name came tobe.

“Wait,” thesenior Padawan spoke up, “When you are a Captain and when I am a Commander,then I technically outrank you.”

Rex decidedthen and there that he did not like that grin and he was secretly jealous ofhis brother Cody, who was under Obi-Wan’s commando. How he wished he were too.At least then he would not have to deal with the people, who had hurt his Jedibrother all those years ago.

“In myopinion, experience outranks everything,” and that is why Obi-Wan would ALWAYSbe his rightful General. The man had gone through so much already.

“Oh?” thetall male with the slightly crooked nose raised an eyebrow. He had not expectedthis much personality. And usually he would encourage it, but there wasdefinitely something hostile directed at both him and Anakin. But the hostilitydid not only come from Rex, the whole Battalion had an aggressive air aroundhim. He wondered if all clones were like this. Perhaps it had something to dowith their programming?

“Master?”Anakin gave him a questioning look. He too, had felt the none too friendlypresence around the clones.

Qui-Goncleared his throat, “We should be heading out. We have a mission to fulfillafter all.”

Anakinnodded his head, “Yes… Knight Kenobi will join us, won’t he?” he did not quitemanage to get the distaste out of his voice, but Qui-Gon took no notice of it.He was eyeing the clone, who slightly jerked at the mentioning of his formerPadawan.

“He will,”he didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. It was no secret – actually the wholeOrder knew – that he and Obi-Wan had parted on bad terms. Though that was to beexpected, since Obi-Wan had not given his Padawan braid to Qui-Gon. A Knightwas not forced to give his braid to his former Master, but they usually did. Itwas a sign of gratitude and friendship, but apparently Obi-Wan had not seen itthis way and decided against it. Qui-Gon could live with that, he still hadAnakin after all.

“Actually,”an accented voice said from behind the two Jedi and they whirled around insurprise, only to be greeted by a ginger haired man who was sporting a fullbeard, “it is MASTER Kenobi now.”“What?” Anakin said in disbelief. “But you didn’t raise a Padawan.”

“No, butthere are many other ways for a Jedi to earn the title of a Master… being onthe Council for example.” Anakin scoffed at that. From his perspective, Obi-Wanwas no great Jedi, not that he would ever say that out aloud. It would onlycause him a lot of trouble after all.

“General!”Rex exclaimed and he saluted once more. Yet this time, there was not even anounce of hostility, just friendliness and perhaps even something akin to joy inhis voice. It left Qui-Gon speechless, or it would have, had he not alreadybeen left speechless from Obi-Wan’s sudden appearance. He had not even felt hisformer Padawan approach, let alone noticed his gunships landing.

“Rex,”there was a strange sparkle in his eyes, “you know that there is no need forthat.”

“I guess Ilike to be reminded,” answered the clone and he took a step forward to claspthe ginger haired Jedi’s arm in greeting, before doing the same with the clone,who had been one step behind Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon andAnakin shared a look. “So,” the tall Jedi began awkwardly.

Almostimmediately did blue-green eyes settle on him. “So?”

“I’d say weget this mission over with,” he eventually said lamely. The situation was tooawkward for his liking.

“Agreed,”Obi-Wan turned to his own clone, “Cody, tell your troops to be ready to move.”

“Yes Sir,”it had been said with enthusiasm and the clone had hurried away to obey.

“The samegoes for you, Rex,” said Anakin. But the clone Captain did not comply or replyanything. His eyes was resting on Obi-Wan, who sent him a questioning look.

“Rex,” theaccented voice held a certain edge to it, it was almost warning.

“Yes Sir,”the reply was forced, but eventually he too, vanished.

“I couldhave handled that,” the Padawan was angry and his ire was directed at Obi-Wanand a little bit at the retreating clone.

“Could you?”his tone was doubtful and it mirrored the look in his eyes.

Anakinclenched his hands into fists and took a threatening step forward. He wastaller than Obi-Wan and bulkier build, but the ginger haired Master just raisedone eyebrow, unimpressed by the intimidation. It was clear that the blondewould not stop and Qui-Gon decided to step in before things could getcompletely out of hand.

“Anakin,enough!”

“ButMaster,” he started to protest, but was interrupted.

“I saidENOUGH.” This time the blonde did shut his mouth.

“YesMaster.” He crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from both Masters.

Then,Qui-Gon turned his focus on Obi-Wan. “I would suggest that you go and preparefor the battle.” He too received a raised eyebrow at that.

It wasQui-Gon’s turn to lose his nerve. First, his former Padawan undermined Anakin’sauthority and then he had the audacity to do the same with him. Who did Obi-Wanthink he was?

“You may bea Master now, Obi-Wan, but I am still your superior due to my experience andage.”“Actually,” he was completely calm, “you are not. As a member of the JediCouncil I stand above you.” That left the taller Jedi speechless. “So, youwould do better to take care of your CURRENT Padawan instead of me, MasterJinn. Besides, I have already taken every necessary steps,” he cleared histhroat, “Well then, I am with my troop when you need me.”

He turnedaround without waiting for a reply, he would not have received one anyway, andheaded to the direction his Commander had previously vanished to.

“Thismission was a complete disaster,” stated Anakin while playing with the hem ofhis tunic. Qui-Gon could only agree with him.

It had beenbad enough that his former Padawan was not only outranking him, but that he hadactually made use of it. As a Council member, his words and orders stood aboveQui-Gon’s.

If the tallJedi would shove his pride aside, he would be able to see that Obi-Wan’sstrategy had indeed been the better one. But there was no way that he wouldever say that to the ginger haired male. At least not in near future, sincetheir relationship was practically non-existent.

“Perhaps weshould request another Battalion?” asked the Padawan.

“It wouldn’tchange anything.” Qui-Gon had felt the hostility from the 501st andfrom the 212th and both times it had only been directed at him andAnakin, while the clones seemed to have a friendly – almost brotherly –relationship to Obi-Wan. It did probably help that the ginger haired male knewthem all by name and by their small presence in the Force. It was beyondfrustrating.

“What willhappen when we reach Coruscant?” the question was innocent enough, but theMaster detected the fear behind those few words nevertheless.

He sighed, “Idon’t know.”

Hesuspected that his Padawan was in big trouble, it had been his arrogance andanger that had not only cost him his left arm, but had also allowed Grievous toescape. Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan, along with the clones that had proudly stoodbeside him, had almost captured the General, hadn’t it been for Anakin.

And it hadalmost cost the young Master his life too. Anakin had simply rushed forward,without thinking and without a tactic. Qui-Gon had not been able to follow, dueto the battle droids that had circled him. For a moment, the tall Master hadbelieved that his Padawan would die this day, but then Obi-Wan had happened.The man, despite his dislike of Anakin – that was returned just as fiercely, ifnot more – had pushed Anakin aside with his own body and he had taken thelightsaber that was meant to end the Padawan’s life. Obi-Wan was most likelyonly alive because of the clones, who had proved skill and quick thinking, whenthey had simultaneously attacked Grievous from all sides.

He sighedand settled down in order to meditate. He would need to clear his head. Perhapsthen the Force would give him some answers regarding the clones, the Counciland most importantly Obi-Wan… or perhaps not.

[freereignastarwarsstory]

Chapter 2: A Purpose

Disclaimer: I (@draksisreborn) own nothing but my OCs. Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm and Disney. Many thanks to my fellow writer @zazabelle, who has been amazing as always and who also did the cover art and character designs for this project. Please review and critique this tribute to the characters of SW who are never spoken of, the ones who only wish to survive.

Rating: T (sci-fi violence and language)

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Cenden was hauled through the corridors of the cargo ship by the Mandalorian and Shistavanen, the latter of which he assumed was the captain. He gritted his teeth in both pain and annoyance as he entered the medical bay. Or closet for that matter. The room contained almost no proper medical equipment other than standard battlefield bandages, splints, and painkillers. The commando droid laid the Devaronian, ‘Nek I think he was called,’ on the medical table before turning towards his captain. Releasing his grip on Cenden, the captain turned to his droid.

“Alright, get down to the engine room and get us powered up, Chol will take care of the rest.” The droid nodded and loped out of the room, casting a quick glance towards Cenden before exiting the room.

The Mandalorian eased Cenden into a chair next to his patient before removing her helmet, revealing her flaming red hair, dark skin, and brown eyes. She locked him in a glare, eyes bloodshot with worry as she shoved some bacta bandages and painkillers into his hands.

“Patch yourself up, then get right to Nek. His life is worth more than yours” She growled before stomping out of the room. Cenden shivered as she went, then quickly wrapping the bacta around his leg and injecting the painkillers with clenched teeth.

“Please, forgive my second in command. She...leans on her emotions more than the rest of us.” The captain spoke softly. “My name is Soron, and this is my ship, the Raving Titan. What is your name?”

Cenden mulled over his response, old habits struggling in the face of Soron’s smooth, convincing voice.

“K-Kandor. My name is Kandor.” He responded, hoping his lie would appease the wolfman. He say his eye narrow slightly, before the captain nodded. “Well then Kandor, you have a lot of work to do.” Cenden sensed desperation in his voice now. “Please, do whatever you must to save him. I’ll be here to assist you.” Cenden gave a simple nod and limped over to his patient, examining his shoulder wound.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Though cauterized by the blaster’s extreme heat, the wounded could still become infected, not to mention the fact that his clothing had become fused with the open flesh in places.

“I need a plasma scalpel, immuno boosters, and bacta. Lots of bacta.” Soron nodded and began to grab the required items, passing them to Cenden as needed. This went on for some time before Cenden realized that the meager supplies here wouldn’t be enough. He could feel Nek’s life steadily draining.

His stomach twisted in knots.

‘I really don’t want to do this. In fact… I’m not even sure I can anymore.’ Cenden thought. ‘But I need to save his life. It's what my master would want.’

Shielding the Devaronian’s body as much as he could, he called on the Force for the first time in many months. It came to him like an old friend, bound by memory but awkward with time. Using the techniques he had learned to accelerate the healing process, he held his hand over the wound and began connecting and shifting the broken energies. Cenden paid extra attention to himself as he connected with the Devaronian’s energy, now sharing the sickening feeling of the wound, but only for a moment.  

Cenden glanced at the captain, currently searching for more immuno boosters and synthetic blood, causing Cenden to breathe a sigh of relief as the wound began to knit itself back together as he stemmed the flow of Force energy. Though he had sworn he saw Soron stiffen slightly, he dismissed it as a side effect of the painkillers. Quickly he tightly wrapped the wound in as many bandages as he could manage to make it look believable that the wound was still healing underneath. He eased himself back into his chair, his work mostly done. His leg burned, and his energy quickly sapping, Cenden called the captain over.

“He will be fine now, he just needs rest and time to heal. Be sure to change his bandages in a few days. Now, is there a place where I can rest?” He asked the captain, the pain killers starting to make the world spin a little.

“Take a left outside the door, second on the right. You’ll be sharing with someone else for now, is that ok?” Soron inquired.

“That is acceptable.” Cenden responded, making slowly for the door, every step dull agony. However, he was stopped by a furred hand resting on his shoulder, forcing him to turn to meet Soron’s glowing yellow eyes.

“Thank you again. Me and my crew are in your debt.” He said. Cenden gave a quiet nod and left the room, seeking the welcoming embrace of sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“BX you can come in now.” Soron spoke. BX slid from his hiding place outside the medical bay and stepped in, ducking under the doorframe slightly.

“Will he live?” The droid inquired, giving a cursory glance over Nek.

“Aye, he will. But our new friend ‘Kandor’ is hiding something. I know it.” He said examining under the bandages while Nek slept. “Blaster wounds don’t heal like that, not with normal medicine.” Soron turned to BX, locking eyes with his white photoreceptors. “I believe he’s a survivor, but I need you to confirm.”

“What would you have me do captain?” BX responded.

“I can tell he is uneasy around you. Figure out if its from the war. He will be rooming with you, but he doesn’t know that. Make him as uneasy as possible and see if you can find anything to confirm my suspicions.”

“When would you like a report? I will need time to examine all possibilities and outcomes.” BX explained, feeling what could only be described as dread at the concept of a Clone Wars veteran.

“As soon as possible.” Soron commanded. BX nodded and left the room.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Cenden was intrigued by the room he had been assigned to. It was spotlessly clean, with a low desk and racks of weapons and tools, but no bed. On the desk was a currently disassembled DH-X rifle, yet each piece was in perfect geometric alignment with each other. And, judging by the look of some of them, custom made, as were many of the tools. He also took notice of the full suit of stormtrooper pilot armor in the corner, in surprising condition for something that was likely pried off someone’s corpse. But he was still confused as to whose room this was. ‘Maybe zhe Mandalorian? Or this Chol everyone keeps talking to?’

His question was quickly answered as the door slid open, revealing the commando droid from earlier, bedroll tucked neatly under his arm. Within a moment however, the droid let out a low growl, photoreceptors locked on Cenden.

“No no no no no!” The droid panicked as he rushed to the table.

His hands began to make miniscule changes to everything Cenden had touched, changes that were almost impossible to see. The droid whirled around and stomped straight towards the culprit, faceplate inches from Cenden’s face.

“You. You almost ruined my work. From now on consider yourself on notice.”

“Ok, what?” Cenden shouted back.

“You’re lucky the captain likes you so much.” It stated before taking a step back and shoving the bedroll into Cenden’s chest, nearly causing him to fall over.

“He’s your master. You can’t do anything without his orders.” Cenden rebutted.

“Clearly you weren’t paying attention on Basteel. You will be staying on the right side of the room. Keep all personal items neatly organized on that side. Disturb my possession again and you will incur heavy consequences.”

Cenden took the bedroll and laid it against the wall. “Up yourz clanker.” He muttered under his breath.

“Call me that again and I’ll show you what a true war droid can do.” The droid replied from his desk, where he was cleaning a flechette launcher.

Cenden unrolled the mat and nearly collapsed onto the ground. His leg was burning, while a cold sweat began to shake his being. His attempts to calm his breathing only seemed to make him more aware of how the painkillers were melting away his calm composure.

The droid’s presence was not helping.

“Help! General we’re taking heavy fire!”

A memory flashed by.

“No. Shut up. You’re fine” Cenden whispered harshly to himself as he took a breath and closed his eyes.

“NO! NO PLEASE!”

His eyes flew open while the room started to swim. The droid turned towards him, his mechanical eyes watching. Watching.

Cenden hands flew to his ears as he curled up tight on the mat.

“Not again, please leave me alone…” He whispered as he slipped back into the recesses of his mind.

The droids were gone.

The temple should’ve been safe.

But a droid is here. Why would such a terrible thing be allowed to exist?

Just keep swinging. Just keep moving. The Force is here. But is it? There is no end to the death.

The droid stepped closer to the unconscious man having a panic attack on his floor. With careful movement of his foot, he pushed the man and the mat a little further to the wall and straightened the wrinkled corner ever so slightly before backing away to see if it squared up evenly.

“Close enough.” The droid concluded before reaching to his comm. “Orders fulfilled Soron.”

Soron’s voice came over the comm. “You already got him to talk?”

“Those were not my instructions.”

“...What?”

“You said to make him as uneasy as possible, I calculated the corrected phrases and terms that should get him to reveal if he has any previous trauma to war.”

“And does he?” Soron strained, his voice laced with anger or worry.

“From my scan, I would say this level of a stress induced panic attack would indicate past war trauma.”

“....” Static came over the comm.

“Soron?” BX spoke. “Soron? Can I make him leave now? Him being here is throwing off the symmetry of my room.”

The door opened behind BX. Soron walked briskly into the room and stopped when he saw Cenden.

Soron sighed as his hand came up to pinch between his brow.

“Ok, ya, I guess I wasn’t specific enough.” he patted the droid on the back, “A for effort I guess.”

“Effort does not start with an A.”

“Shut up and just help me move him into the extra room!” Soron yelled.

Without another word, BX took a step forward and bent down to pick up the injured man. Pulling him halfway from the ground, BX began to build momentum to put him onto his shoulder.

Cenden screamed as his eyes flew open.

The pressure built before exploding outwards away from Cenden sending BX flying across the room.

Cenden landed, nearly crumpling to the floor and stood drunkenly on one leg. His breathing rapid and his eyes bulging with confusion and fear, he stared at the droid rising from the ground and the Shistavanen staring back.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” he bellowed before collapsing onto his hands and knees.

“Whoa, ok there!” Soron rushed forward.

Grabbing his arm and wrapping it around his back, he heaved Cenden from the ground

And rushed him through the open door.

Soron nearly dragging Cenden down the hallway, he saw Lerti’s fiery head pop out from around the corner.

“Lerti, actual guest room, now!” Soron strained between breaths.

Lerti nodded and ran ahead, opening the door to their extra room. Soron pulled him through the door before flopping the half conscious man down onto the bed.

He watched Lerti back out of the room. He thought about asking for her to run and get some sedatives from the medical supplies but at this point, Soron wasn’t sure he would need it, the man was fading fast.

“Please… Please get away…” Cenden whispered desperately as his eyes fought to stay open.

“We have a lot to discuss, Jedi.” Soron whispered as the Jedi slipped out of awareness.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Soron sighed as he watched the man’s body go limp. Turning to walk out, he saw BX standing in the door frame, his head tilted in curiosity.

“Did I do something… incorrect, to your instructions?” BX asked as Soron walked passed him.

“You did exactly as I said. Doesn’t mean it was right on my part… I think he’ll be ok but just try and keep your distance from him until he’s in his right mind again.” Soron explained to the droid.

BX nodded and turned to go back to his room to clean up the damage from their “experiment”. The droid could almost feel what organics would call a shudder when he reviewed the memory of that man touching his perfectly organized blaster pieces.

“The nerve.” he muttered to himself before turning the corner.

Soron let out a breath and turned down the hallway to head towards their lounging area near the center of the ship. Opening the door, he found Lerti already there waiting for him with two cups of stimcaf resting on the table in the middle of sectional sofas.

“I’m guessing you were needing this as much as I was.” she smiled.

“Ya probably.” he mumbled as he flopped onto the couch. “I feel sort of awful.”

“Man, I do too. I think I pulled something in my shoulder.” Lerti groaned as she rolled her shoulder.

“No I was meaning about our guest. I think I made BX give him a heart attack.”

Lerti shrugged, “Why do you care? It’s not like we’re keeping him.”

Soron looked at Lerti.

“What? No! Soron! We can’t pick up another ‘passenger’, we can barely get by with the four of us!” Lerti complained.

“We owe him greatly.”

“We owe him nothing. His whole ‘good deed act’ saved Nek but that doesn’t mean we can trust him, much less owe him anything!”

“I wasn’t just talking about Nek, Lerti.”

“Then what? Soron, we don’t owe anyone anything!”

“We owe him this!”

“Why!?”

“Lerti I think he’s a survivor!”

She went quiet for a moment before lowering her voice.

“Soron what are you talking about?”

“The Old Republic… The Jedi. I think he was one of them.”

“Soron, the Jedi aren’t real. You know I love to tell stories as much as the next guy but...”

“No they weren’t. I’m old enough to remember. I’m old enough that I won’t give into that awful propaganda about them! They are real, and almost none of them survived after the emperor took control of everything and attempted to wipe them out.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Lerti asked with wide eyes.

“I’ll tell you once we have our crew together for a little chat. That includes our hopeful new member pumped full of painkillers laying in the other room.” Soron said as he turned to leave the room.

“I’m going to check on Nek. Be sure to swing by Cholmon and give him our next destination.” Soron commanded as the door slid open in front of him.

“Where are we going now?”

“Let’s swing by Nar Shaddaa. Beebs should be able to help us lie low for a while.”

“You got it cap.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nearly a day and a half later, Nek woke up with a slight headache and a lot of questions, but to the rest of the crew, he seemed livelier than ever. Under the several layers of bandages, the blast wound was almost completely healed, Nek describing it feeling like “a ton of insect bites” but not much worse than that. Despite the crew’s insistence he stay put and rest for a while, he was up and moving about the ship only about three hours after his waking up.

Needless to say, Lerti and Cholmon couldn’t help but be suspicious of the miraculous recovery. Nek himself was just as confused. Soron had continually promised to explain everything, but only after they were sure their guest was going to live.

Since his “incident” he hadn’t woken up. Once the crew had landed in Nar Shaddaa, they had begun taking shifts watching him, but everyone reported in that he hadn’t so much as stirred once.

Cholmon shuffled into the room to take his shift. Nek sat patiently next to his savior and smiled when he saw Cholmon.

“I’m happy to be alive, I don’t care why. But it seems the how is still out for the count.” the Devaronian said gesturing to the human.

“Give him time I guess.” Cholmon shrugged indifferently.

“I get shot almost clean through the shoulder and I'm almost completely healed, but he gets shot in the leg and now… It doesn’t make sense.” Nek sighed.

“Not to many things do Nek, now go get some rest for crying out loud. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Cholmon uttered, putting a webbed hand on Nek’s shoulder.

Nek nodded silently before rising from his chair and heading for the doorway. Cholmon sat down heavily with a thump. Putting his feet up near the foot of the bed, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Looks like you’re contagious, mystery man, ‘cause I could really go for a nap right about now too.” Cholmon mumbled sarcastically as he sank into the chair.

Several rooms over, Lerti sparred with BX while Soron and Nek watched, making bets for the winner. The droid and the Mandalorian seemed almost be dancing in their practice fight. BX’s movements calculated and quick, while Lerti moved on her feet, looking almost carefree as she threw her punches. It was an interesting bout to be sure.

Outside on Nar Shaddaa, storm clouds had gathered overhead. Rain poured down, thudding rhythmically on the haul of the ship. Lightning split across the sky and thunder exploded moments later. Back in Cenden’s room, the Jedi stirred in his sleep.

His eyes suddenly flew open.

With a quickly drawn in breath, he shot up into sitting position, his eyes flying about the room.

His eyes locked onto the Mon Calamari taking a nap in the chair next to the bed as he tried to piece together where he was and why he was there… The firefight, the injured Devaronian; he was on a ship.

He reached out with the Force, connecting to the surrounding area, they weren’t in space, which was a start. At least he could try and find his way off the ship and hide somewhere less conspicuous than an escape pod. Carefully pulling the covers aside, he shifted his body as quietly as possible so as not to wake the alien nearest to him. Pulling one leg over the side of the bed, he held in a gasp of pain when fire ran up the side of his leg.

He looked down at the still very raw but bandaged blast hole in his leg.

Oh ya. That. Cenden thought as vague memories of painkillers, a droid, and a Shistavanen trying to attack him flooded back.

His stomach fluttered in panic.

They know.

Quickly placing his hand on his thigh, he connected with the living energy within himself, then to the Force flowing around him and throughout the room. Finally connecting with the tear in his being, he inhaled in pain, the little energy he had quickly draining from him. Breaking the connection, he leaned back on one hand and removed the bandages as he gasped for breath.

The wound was still there.

I must’ve used up more power than I thought healing that Devaronian… Did I even break the connection with him? Exhaustion quickly began eating away at Cenden again.

Focusing, he broke any bonds he had strung together and felt some energy return to him.

Well that’s just great, I must’ve been using up my energy to heal him. Alright Cenden, just escape the ship then you can take a nap, sound good you idiot? Cenden thought to himself as he began to build momentum.

Quietly hopping up from the bed, he leaned on his good leg and the wall as he began his shuffle out from the room. His mind felt like it was in a fog as he made his way down the hallway. For the first time in a long time, he just let the Force pull him along through the winding corridors and seemingly endless hallways.

He was looking for anything that looked like a exit, any kind of door that might lead to the outside.

Cenden jumped as thunder roared overhead. Letting out a breath, he shook his head and kept going. That pulling feeling stopped suddenly as he passed a door that met at the crossroads of two dividing hallways. This did not look like an exit, but it was the only lead he knew for certain would lead him where he needed to be… Maybe.

At that same moment, back in the sparring room, Nek decided he was feeling a little run down after all and told the others he was going to go lay down for a while.

Cenden reached for the door’s control panel.

Nek watched the door speed open and gasped a little when someone was standing immediately on the other side.

Cenden’s eyes locked onto Nek’s as he stumbled back against the wall in shock.

Soron and Lerti looked over in surprise.

BX shoved Lerti against the wall, then looked over at the door.

“You should really work on your focus. Oh and Soron, the Jedi is at the door.” BX observed.

Everyone was quiet. Everyone waiting for someone else to make a move.

Soron took a step forward.

Cenden pushed himself further up against the wall.

Lerti smiled a little and stood up, “Where do you think your heading? Don’t you want to introduce yourself first?”

Cenden scowled at them before replying.

“I want off this ship. Now.”

Soron frowned a little, glancing at Cenden’s leg.

“Why haven't you healed your wound?” Soron questioned.

Cenden’s face fell, for a moment he thought about all he had to hide. How long he had been alone and hiding. He was stuck on this ship, there was no escape at the moment. There was nothing that could be done…

“Don’t you think I tried? ...I’m tired.” Cenden voiced in defeat.

“Well you can go back to our guest room then, you’re allowed to stay as long as you need. We owe you that much.” Nek spoke.

Lerti scowled a little before rolling her eyes and walking through the door.

“Come on back to the room. Soron promised answers and you’re going to help out with those.” she said as she walked past Cenden, gesturing for everyone to follow. “Also, I’m hoping Cholmon was just being Cholmon when you managed to sneak passed him.”

“The Mon Calamari? He was sleeping.” Cenden explained as he limped along the corridor followed by the rest of the crew.

“Figures.” Nek mumbled in reply, “By the way, I never got a chance to thank you.” he directed at Cenden.

“Don’t mention it.”

The group made it back to the room, Cholmon was still sleeping in his chair exactly where Cenden had left him. Lerti walked briskly across the room, quickly throwing Cholmon’s legs off the side of the bed. His eyes flew open in surprise and he sat bolt upright.

“Wah!? What? Oh, um…” Cholmon’s looked at Cenden in shock, “Well look at that… He did wake up.”

“Ya and great job watching him for us Chol.” Soron uttered sarcastically before gesturing for Cenden to sit on the bed.

Lumbering over, Cenden flopped back onto the bed, hissing from the pain in his leg. Sighing, he looked to Soron.

“What do you want?” he inquired forcefully.

He noticed a look pass between the crew members, as if they knew what was coming.

Soron stepped forward, “I want to repay you.”

“You have repaid me! I saved his life you gave me a place to rest, your debt has been repaid.”

Soron was quiet for a moment, just watching him speak.

“I don’t think I could ever truly repay you for all you have done.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was there when the order was given… I was there when the Jedi fell.”

Nek suddenly stepped forward, “Wait! So he actually is a Jedi!? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.”

“I. Am no. Jedi! Not anymore!” Cenden barked.

Soron stepped back in, “But you were. What was your position?”

“... I was a temple guard. In charge of protecting the sanctuaries and sacred temples of the Jedi order. Especially during the Clone Wars.” his gaze became far off, his voice dropped down to almost a whisper, “The droid armies had suddenly abandoned the area, we should have been safe. But then the…” Cenden cut himself off, his voice pained.

“Then the clones attacked.” Soron finished.

Cenden nodded silently.

“I was there, on one of the sites where the order was given. I could barely make out what was happening, it was like the clones just went mad. I watched them slaughter their brothers in arms like they were vicious animals. Why? Why did they do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“How are you alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“The emperor took control only days later, you must see the connection.”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Cenden bellowed, dropping his head into his hands, “What. Do. You. Want? Are you going to turn me in?”

“I think he’s made it pretty clear we’re not going to turn you in.” Lerti snorted.

“We don’t fight for the Empire.” Soron retorted.

Cenden raised an eyebrow. He looked slightly taken back.

“Then for the Rebellion?” He questioned.

“Pointless. All of it.” Soron reposed, “So the Empire takes over the galaxy. Then what? The Empire is doing all of this for power, and what does it matter to them? What does it matter to the Emperor? And what does all of this matter to us?” he laughed, “And the Rebellion? If, or when they manage to stop them, then what? Whoever is in charge changes nothing, not really. But we,” he gestured to his crew, “We are apart of a free reign. We do not fight for any side, we do not just survive. We are trying to find how to live. All of us are fighting to find a greater purpose than who’s in charge of what. There really is no point to it, and we are looking for a purpose. And I think you can help us find that purpose. I think we could give you a purpose.”

“What do you mean?” Cenden asked.

“Well, who better to help us find a greater purpose than a man connected to the greatest purpose?” Soron explained.

Cenden was quiet for a moment.

“You’re talking about zhe Force?” he asked curtly.

“Of course I’m talking about the Force! You’re kind of slow aren’t you?” Soron jested.

Cenden rolled his eyes, “I don’t know if zhere’s a point to that.”

Soron smiled, “You have reason to doubt your abilities, I’m sure. Every war leaves its scars. But regarding the Force? There is every point to it. It guides you doesn’t it? It moved you to us, it moved you to save Nek. And it moved Nek to get shot in the first place. It sees things greater than we are, it makes up all things, it binds all things together, and that includes time. The Force decides who lives and who dies and how and why. You are connected to it. You are it’s prophet, it speaks through you. It helps you.”

“It didn’t help any of us when it mattered the most! I watched my fellow guards get slaughtered! I should’ve been dead too! They just kept shooting and shooting at the bodies! Without remorse, without thought… Then they shot at me. I should not be alive right now.”

“But you are.” Cholmon finally spoke.

“Ya, I am.” Cenden whispered.

“So what are you doing to do about it? What are you going to do with your second chance? How are you going to live, now that the Jedi are gone? Why did the Force allow the Jedi to die? Why do the Sith still live? And how does the rest of us fit into it? Why are we alive? What are we here for?” Soron’s eyes locked onto Cenden’s.

“You ask some pretty heavy questions.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be able to help us find heavier answers. Help us find them.” Soron extended his hand towards Cenden.

Cenden hesitated before taking his hand.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard anyone talking sense. My name is Cenden Sondron.”

Soron smiled.

“Nice to meet you.”

[calamity-aims]

MTMTE panel redraw with assorted clone blorbos! You can really tell the exact moment where I realized I do not possess the skill to do this panel justice (it’s somewhere between the fact that there’s supposed to be 12 of them and the patchwork coloring job).

ft. Cody, Remedy @kkrazy256 , Rex, Whirl, Radar @mysteryhacked , Neyo, Uj @purgetrooperfox , Penchant @chiafett , and Drift

original panel:

[calamity-aims]

actually Whirl deserves blue hair and pronouns so. redesign