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mistflyer1102 · 2 years

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arrival

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

Summary: The new squad returns to Coruscant.

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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.

#arligan zey #captain maze #republic commando #hunter #the bad batch #star wars

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years

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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.

#kaitou joker #light novel

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generic-ghost-ghoul · 3 years

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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.

#clone sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch #the clone wars

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rinrinp42 · 4 years

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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.)

#rinrinp42 answers #My writing #writing prompt #jangobi #jango/obi #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #ct jester #ct punch #ct sketch #star wars #tcw #you know the 212th (if not all the 3rd system army) already think of Obi as their disaster dad #and now dad and buir are flirting #icarii jango au

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years

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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.”

#wrecker is so thoughtful XD #lol idk I’m sorry guys #star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #do y’all actually want this idk #I will happily take requests on things you DO #requests are always open for blurbies or whatever :)#butt sticks are a real thing btw #that’s how I land mine XD #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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norcumii · 4 years

Note

I'm gonna be predictable and put in a really basic prompt: more Domino!Bad Batch. I don't have an exact prompt other than this, just a bunch of possibilities to choose from? Finding Fives, meeting up with Rex after getting Echo, Rex actually being told Domino is ALIVE??? There's so many ideas.

...this hit 1.6k, I think I can (SHOULD) declare this done. >_>

THANK YOU, THIS WAS AWESOME! For this set of prompts, based upon this plunnie. Armor designs are based on @mercysewerpyro’s gorgeous speculations!

******

“I hate being back here.” Droidbait glared around the hallways, his body language obvious to Hevy. He didn’t respond beyond a click of acknowledgement over the comms, because they all did. Kamino might be home to a lot of brothers, but it just held a lot of hurt and memories for him.

It ached, every time he thought about how they hadn’t been here, hadn’t been able to save their brothers when the Seppies attacked. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing the underside of his left bracer, where 99’s number rested on the inside against his wrist. Cutup saw the gesture, and leaned in to bump shoulders. Hevy rocked with the motion, nudging back with an elbow, and tried not to sigh.

They were specialists, a commando squad that went everywhere and did everything. The past was past, and back then....

He hated to admit it, but their presence might well have done nothing but add to the body count.

Yeah, he hated being back here too. At least this was just another routine checkup, and then they could go.

It still felt so weird, walking through Kamino’s halls in their armor. It was ARC style, bulkier than standard with better protection, pauldrons and kamas, all in their dark gray with subdued – but extensive – dark blue markings. It was better for stealth than the typical white, but it made them stand out like highlighted targets in the endless stark white of Tipoca City. It meant the local brothers – young, you could tell from the body language and the tight way they clutched at their weapons and watched them too overtly – were staring at the squad in a mix of awe and concern.

“There seem to be an awful lot of armed brothers here?” Cutup asked, way too casual.

“Someone’s nervous about something,” Hevy muttered back.

A loud scuffle and a yell behind them had the squad whirling around, hands on blasters but not drawing yet. There was some kind of escort squad there, longneck in the lead – at least, they had been. Some brother in reds had shoved the Kaminoan down, was wrestling weapons from the guard squad in a way that was damned impressive. Sure, garri-troopers were...not the top of the line soldiers, but this guy was good. ARC quality, probably, to get three down that fast without a single shot fired. The restraint was one of the reasons Hevy and the others didn’t draw – the other was something...familiar? Some weird sensation crawling up Hevy’s neck.

The rambunctious brother was arguing with a medical droid, then the Kaminoan slammed an alert button. The hallway lights went red, the brother grabbed the droid and ran, and Cutup cried out.

Droidbait managed words, which was more than Hevy could do upon seeing the fleeing brother’s goatee and temple tattoo.

“Fives! That’s Fives!”

-----

By the time they figured out what was going on, Fives was already en route to Coruscant. Droidbait didn’t bother asking permission; he just sauntered into their ship with a droid in tow, and poor AZI-3 was claimed as part of the team.

On the plus side, he and Reesh seemed to be okay with each other, and by the time they arrived at Coruscant, it was obvious they were keeping him. The intel he carried, though – that was...concerning.

Fives was crazy, but not the kind of crazy that would make up some kind of wild conspiracy theory.

They had a plan, they had a helpful med-droid, and all they had to do was stop being at least one step behind the action.

-----

Fives woke up. He hadn’t expected that. He distinctly remembered getting shot, and it hurt, and then it was just darkness grasping up and pulling him down.

But here he was, waking up. He opened his eyes, and that worked too. The ceiling looked like any other in a transport ship, which meant he could be anywhere. Limbs felt all accounted for, and he was far clearer headed than he’d been when–

When things went bad.

Noise to the side drew his attention: three troopers were there, in dark armor that probably indicated some kind of specialists. Well, they probably had answers.

“I’m dead?” he asked, not sure how death was actually supposed to work.

“No!” a cheerful, familiar voice declared, and AZI-3 floated into view far too close to his face. “You are still alive and now back to almost normal levels of functioning!”

“AZI! You’re–” He bit back a relieved sigh, because he was terrified the poor tinny was going to be recycled. “You’re ok?” He sat up, wincing at that feel of deep pain in his chest, a low ache that meant bacta had been applied and done its work, but it was recent and his body sure as hell remembered what had just happened to it.

“Okay, and part of the squad!” The little droid did a happy twirl, showing off a new paint job that was in the same subdued blue as the troopers.

Fives looked over at the one standing in front of the other two, jaig eyes on his dark bucket and a ‘1’ on both vambraces. “Congratulations. The squad?”

The leader nodded. “Experimental unit Clone Force 99. The Bad Batch.”

Oh-kay. “That’s a rousing endorsement.” He didn’t mean to be disparaging, but he was still getting over being dead.

The brother on the right shrugged – his bucket had an impressive set of fangs detailed on it, as if some large creature were trying to swallow it from behind. “S’what we get for bein’ weird,” he said, funny lilt to his voice and apparently not caring about Fives’ tone at all.

The third trooper sighed, giving the second one a look. “Unconventional, the word you’re looking for is unconventional!”

Trooper Two’s bucket waggled mockingly at Trooper Three, as if the brother there were making rude faces. Fives couldn’t hear anything, but he was willing to wager a few credits he didn’t have that there was something being taunted over a private channel.

The leader ignored the byplay. “Fives....” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m sorry, I just have to ask: you do realize that you might as well be dead to the Republic? The GAR?”

He’d been trying pretty hard to ignore that. Fives allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and just breathe. “I was raving, wasn’t I.” His voice was quiet, and he’d meant it as a question, though it didn’t come out that way. “At General Skywalker and Captain Rex. I didn’t give them anything coherent, did I.”

The silence went on too long. “I’m sorry,” the leader said.

Fives opened his eyes, and he thought he saw sympathy in the brothers’ body language. “What happened?”

AZI puffed up, the droid ready to infodump in the way that he did, but the third trooper raised a hand in a polite, minimalist gesture to stop – and miracle of the Force, AZI did.

“AZI made up a cocktail to slow down your body’s functions, to let us fake your death” the leader said, crossing his arms. “We’d hoped to snipe you before things went to shit, but – that didn’t go so well. The Guard–” His hands balled into fists, and while it was nice to see this guy had emotions. “No one can figure out why the fuck they weren’t shooting to stun, which is basic fucking protocol, but – they got you. We tagged you at about the same time, swapped bodies en route to the morgue, and now we’re about mid-rim.”

Fives’ hand went up to his chest, to where that ache still lingered. “How close was it?”

“Very.” AZI sounded subdued, which both was, and really really wasn’t an improvement. “Someone drugged you before we did, and the chemical combination was bad. But we worked through that and now you’re back!”

He couldn’t stop himself, frustration boiling over till he slammed a fist against the examination table he was on. “Nala Se,” he growled, because he could at least keep from shouting. “It must’ve been on the transport to Coruscant!”

The Bad Batch was patient enough to let him calm down, then the leader took a step forward. “You’re certain there’s a conspiracy. That the Chancellor is....”

“Bad news,” he growled, brain shying away from that unfortunate memory.

He nodded. “Then I’ve got an offer for you. Fives is dead. We’ll need time; none of us are great slicers but we make do – and we could use a new member to the squad.”

“And you’ll help me stop this?”

“Yes.”

Fives held out his hand. “Then you’ve got a deal.”

The leader grasped his wrist and they shook. “I gotta say.” His voice sounded...off; too thick and almost shaking. “I’m glad. Welcome back to the Bad Batch, Fives.”

“Back?”

The two troopers removed their buckets. The smartass had a neatly trimmed, minimalist beard and mustache, and a wry grin. He was crying, like his brother. That one was cleanshaven, with closecut hair and some kind of snaky tattoo coiling up from the neck of his blacks.

Then the leader took back his hand, and pulled his helmet. He had some impressive old burn scars along the face, but that didn’t obscure the matching designs that wrapped around his neck and up onto his cheeks.

Fives stared at those familiar Z-6 blaster cannons, and on some level through the shock he realized he was crying too. “Hevy?” he finally managed, looking over and registering that it was Cutup and Droidbait, then looking back because this could not be happening. “I thought you said I wasn’t dead.”

He was swamped in a sudden group hug, and through the laughter and tears he could hear his brother. “You’re not,” Hevy promised. “You’re not, and we’re not, and we’ll explain everything, but most of all we are going to solve this. Together.”

~end

#mercysewerpyro #star wars #domino squad #clone prompts #domino bad batch #sass and murder show #plunnie for adoption #ALL THE FEELS #long post is long

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arctic-the-archaic · 4 years

Text

Day 3: Unrequited

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

#fivesweek2020 #arc trooper fives #commander colt #commander blitz #commander havoc #shaak ti #commander shield (oc)#writing #Star Wars

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ace-oreos · 5 years

Text

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.

#star wars the clone wars #alpha 17 #pong krell #ct-7567 #my fanfic #au #I kind of took a lot of liberty with the Force thing

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calamity-aims · 2 years

Text

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)

#skimmer #clone commando whirl #arc trooper fives #captain rex #commander cody #commander neyo #commander faie #clone trooper twitch #hunter badbatch #calamity art #there….might be a part 3 to this

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inkognito97 · 7 years

Note

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.

#star wars #prompt #anonymous #request #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #anakin skywalker #captain rex #commander cody #cloneAU #qui-gon lives #padawan anakin #council member obi-wan #my fics

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freereignastarwarsstory · 7 years

Text

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.”

#Free Reign: A Star Wars Story #Chapter 2 #zazabelle #draksisreborn #ptsd and ocd in the same paragraph #This was one of my favored chapters to write #star wars fanfiction

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