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wanderinginksplot-writes · 4 months

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One-Shot: Boss + Competence

Sergeant Boss x gn!reader (no pronouns, no use of 'y/n')

Word Count: 4,700

Warnings: Frustration, feelings of otherness, disrespect

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“Ten o’clock, Boss,” Scorch muttered, elbowing Boss lightly in the side.

Boss glared, but he knew it was useless. Nothing could put a damper on Scorch’s personality, especially when he thought he was helping. Besides, the head’s up was a sign that there were more important things to focus on.

And, sure enough, there you were.

A long-term mission with standard troopers hadn’t been a good use of Delta Squad’s time, in Boss’s opinion. The main strength of a commando squad was that they were fast and subtle, able to move in and out of an area without drawing a lot of attention. Strapping them with an entire Venator-class Star Destroyer was taking away that advantage as much as anyone could.

But you had turned out to be an unexpected benefit. From what Boss could gather, you did something with the computational systems aboard the Resolute, though he hadn’t narrowed down exactly what your specialty was. You seemed to bounce all over the ship, working on whatever needed attention at that particular moment.

Maybe you would have continued to be just another member of the ship’s crew - nat-borns weren’t common on ships, but they were hardly as rare as he would have thought - but you had quickly drawn Boss’s attention with your sharp temper.

The first time someone had interrupted a vital power connection so they could charge a datapad, you had removed the offending connection and taken the datapad for good measure. The foolish owner had attempt to dress you down for confiscating the datapad, but you had pushed him aside with ease. In the end, you had threatened to tell his commanding officer that he had left sensitive information in such an easily accessible place.

Any other stupidity had been met with an equal amount of sarcasm and impatience. It was everything Boss wanted to do when he was tired of trying to set a good example for the rest of Delta Squad. There was only so much idiocy any one person could be expected to endure, and it was clear that you had hit your limit.

So, yes, watching you was one of Boss’s great joys. He justified it to himself that he was being respectful. He could also make sure others were being respectful, as well. From your temper, Boss assumed that you could take care of yourself, but you were in an unfamiliar place. You were outside of the typical power structure, which could put you at a disadvantage if someone decided to push your boundaries.

Boss only realized how far his thoughts had drifted when he felt the others staring at him. Sev shook his head despairingly. “I thought you’d be able to handle yourself better than this, Sarge.”

“Are you kidding?” Scorch asked. “This is the first time I’ve seen him look that way at something other than his Deece.”

“Shut up, Six-Two,” Fixer ordered. “Three-Eight, if you want to make a good impression, I hear conversation is a good start. You won’t get anything out of staring from across the room.”

“For once, I agree with Fixer,” Scorch said.

“I do, too,” Sev said.

Boss started to seriously consider the merits of desertion.

“We’ll leave you to weigh your options,” Fixer said, marching away. Sev and Scorch followed after a moment. Scorch offered a broad grin as he left, nodding so determinedly toward you that he attracted a suspicious look from your direction.

Boss turned away before you could follow Scorch’s gaze to him. That was all he needed - to be taken out by Scorch’s irritating nature before he’d even had the chance to make a good first impression.

By the time he glanced back over, you were putting the finishing touches on some wires you had been setting up near the front of the room where this meeting was to take place. He didn’t envy you - the Negotiator was moving in and out of hyperspace to throw off chances of being tracked. It was a strong method of ensuring security, but it made connections to outside sources complex and unreliable.

You hardly seemed concerned, face unworried and hands sure as you wove together connections, typed strings of code into the terminal, and laid out the holoprojectors.

Boss tucked his helmet under one arm, inching closer to you under the guise of making room for the others who were filtering into the meeting room. You were just as stunning up close. Boss was struggling to come up with a conversational opening when you gathered some spare bundles of wires, tucked them into a bag on your shoulder, and left.

He was still trying to manage his disappointment when General Kenobi started the meeting.

Somehow, Boss managed to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. He chalked it up to some quirk of Jango’s genes that allowed him to remember every word with only half of his attention fixed on the proceedings. Delta Squad was a temporary attachment to the 212th. What did they care about setting long-term goals for better intelligence? Intel was intel and all of it was terrible. That was just how it went.

“Sergeant Boss,” General Kenobi called. Boss turned his way, allocating approximately 5% more of his attention to the meeting. “Commander Cody tells me that you recently experienced trouble on a mission due to subpar intelligence. Can you tell us more about what happened and how you handled it?”

Boss fought back a snort. “You’ll have to be more specific, General. Most of the GAR’s intel is subpar, especially for the commando squads. More often than not, accuracy takes lower precedence than timeliness.”

General Kenobi’s gaze sharpened. “What percentage of your information would you estimate is accurate and useful?”

And so it went. Kenobi wasn’t satisfied knowing about Boss’s low opinion of GAR intel - he wanted to know details. It was a special kind of hell for Boss, who wasn’t used to explaining his thought process or how his squad worked to anyone other than General Windu. Even then, the Coruscant debriefing sessions were usually kept as short and vague as they could manage without sacrificing important information.

The meeting devolved further and further until it was little more than CTs asking for stories about commando missions. General Kenobi cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m sure we all have important tasks to which we must return. If the sergeant has time, he can answer your questions. In the meantime, you are all dismissed.”

Despite Boss’s best efforts, he was surrounded by standard troopers, stuck in the room until he had given enough vague answers and sharp reprimands that the crowd dissipated. He allowed himself a moment to silently curse Kenobi’s name before voices at the front of the room attracted his attention.

“Excuse me, but that is not the proper way to disconnect a holoprojector.”

There was a sigh, and Boss could recognize the sound of it without a moment of hesitation. You were back.

“You aren’t listening to me,” the officer repeated. It was one of the nat-borns - a tall, lanky man drowning in his own self-importance. “I said, that is not the proper way to disconnect a holoprojector.”

You dropped the cords in your hand, letting them hit the table with a weak slap. “Listen, lieutenant-”

“Captain,” the man corrected, puffing out his chest so you would be sure to see the collection of medals there. Boss was willing to bet that none of them were earned for doing anything that could sully the captain’s perfect uniform.

“Captain, then-” You paused again, letting the silence dangle as you peered at him. “What’s my rank?”

The captain frowned. “You… don’t have a rank.”

“Exactly.” You started gathering the cords again, eyes dropping to your work. It was clear from your posture and the tone of your voice that you weren’t meekly looking away. No, the man had been dismissed, for all that you were still talking to him. “That’s because I’m a contractor.”

“Yes, you are.” The captain frowned harder, like he was trying to see the trap in your statement. Boss started to grin, having already spotted it. “But-”

“If the GAR had to hire an outside contractor to handle their comms, it means that no one else knows how to do the work I do.” You finished rolling the cords into neat bundles and turned your attention to the holoprojector itself. “I’m the expert here. So you can take your opinion on how I do my job and-”

You glanced around the room, eyes meeting Boss’s. He felt electrified by the eye contact, but you turned away just as quickly.

“And keep it to yourself,” you finished.

“You’re a civilian serving on a military vessel,” the captain sputtered. “I am certain you signed an agreement to obey commands given by the officers-”

“My contract says I answer to General Kenobi,” you told him. “Any complaints about my performance go directly to him. He’s on the bridge if you want to report me because you don’t like the way I roll cords.”

And then you turned to retrieve the case for the holoprojectors. It was an end to the conversation, as clearly as if you had left the room entirely. The captain stiffly walked away. Boss wondered for a moment if he really was going to the bridge, but then he put the man out of his head. You were in the same room, and he wasn’t going to waste another chance to speak with you.

“Hey,” he started, walking over to the table where you were working.

…Only to freeze when you fixed him with an evil look. “I’m not in the mood for anyone else to tell me how I’m doing my job wrong, thanks. Since everyone is so concerned, let me explain how it works: I sign out all of the equipment I use, and it is regularly inspected by someone else. If there’s any damage from the way I set up or break down the equipment, it will be found and I’ll be held accountable. Leave me alone.”

Boss was loathe to refuse such a direct request, especially since he could hear the weariness in it, but he was horrified at the idea of leaving you to think he was on the same level as the others who had doubted your ability to do your job.

“Sorry, I just- wanted to tell you how much I respect the way you’ve been handling all of the osik they’re throwing your way.” An expression of bone-deep irritation had crossed your face when Boss started to speak, but it faded as you listened to the rest of his statement.

“Osik is banthashit, right?”

Emboldened by the lack of vitriol, Boss nodded. “Basically. Any idiot with eyes can see that you know how to do your job. They’re just questioning you to make themselves feel better about not being able to do what you do.”

“Among other things,” you agreed dryly. “I already know that’s what they’re doing.”

An uncharacteristic self-doubt swept through Boss and he wondered if he had overstepped. That was eased when you took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing when you let it out. “But thanks. It’s nice to know that someone else sees it, too. Makes me feel less like I’m pushing a speeder uphill.”

“You’re good at your job,” Boss said firmly. “That’s not in doubt by anyone who matters.”

“That’s-” Your comlink interrupted and you let out a frustrated groan when you looked at it. “Sorry, I have to get to another setup on the bridge.”

Boss nodded again, but you didn’t see it. Your practiced motions had picked up in speed, working quickly to pack up the equipment from the meeting and load it onto a small cart. He helped with the last few containers, but the process would have gone just as fast without his help. Maybe faster.

You were almost to the door when you turned back. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Boss,” he told you reflexively.

You grinned at that, and the sight of it made Boss’s heart stutter in his chest. “Great name. I’ll see you around, Boss.”

All things considered, that had gone better than Boss had expected.

From that point, he really did seem to see you more often. You were fixing comms channels, checking on issues with the droids in the mess hall, or working on the data terminals in the main sections of the ship. Every time he saw you, you were too busy for another conversation - even as short as the last one had been - but you always took a moment to smile and greet him by name.

If Boss had been half in love with you when he was watching you verbally eviscerate officers from a distance, he was fully gone now that you actually knew who he was. Any day was a little brighter when you were working nearby, and he found himself looking forward to meetings. There was always a chance that you would be responsible for the setup, especially if the required equipment was tricky or difficult.

The downside was, he suspected, the same as it had always been: that you were given shockingly little respect by the people you helped. Boss had personally witnessed troopers and natties alike complaining about the technology and blaming you specifically. He made a point of dressing them down when he witnessed it, but it seemed to be widespread.

“I can’t believe you found a nattie to moon over in the middle of hyperspace,” Fixer complained. At least, it was framed as a complaint, but Fixer’s tone was as close to camaraderie as Boss had ever heard it.

“You wanna keep your voice down, Fixer?” he asked, purposefully cutting the other man off as they walked into a meeting room. “You know how regs like to talk. The wrong thing overheard by the wrong person leads to-”

“An unhappy Three-Eight,” Fixer finished for him. “I’ll stow it, then. But you might see more of… your person of interest if Kenobi wasn’t obsessed with meetings.”

Boss snorted despite himself. None of the troopers were overly big fans of meetings - Jango’s genes made them men of action rather than words, and they didn’t get much from endless planning - but commandos seemed to have a particular loathing for them.

Of course, it could be that the 212th had simply gotten used to them after working with Kenobi for as long as they had.

Fortunately, this meeting was likely going to be shorter than previous ones had been. Kenobi and Cody were busy with a different meeting, so this would be attended by Delta Squad, a few officers from the 212th, and an ARC who had been attached to the battalion for their upcoming mission.

“What do we need the long-range holos for?” one of the officers asked as Delta Squad walked into the room.

Boss’s heart gave an exaggerated thud in his chest at the mention of equipment you might be responsible for, but it looked like this holoprojector had already been set up.

“The ARC, Aftermath,” another answered, blissfully unaware of Boss’s sudden interest in long-range technology. “He’s finishing another assignment right now, but he’ll meet up with us as soon as we drop out of hyperspace. He requested an early briefing.”

A sergeant who Boss vaguely recognized - his name was Heft, if Boss remembered correctly - was trying to turn on the holoprojector. The first click of the button did nothing and Heft scowled. The second, third, and fourth times didn’t have any more effect, and Heft’s expression grew darker with every failed attempt.

“This karkin’ thing is broken,” he concluded eventually.

The holoprojector looked fine, but Boss couldn’t argue that it didn’t seem to be performing its intended function.

“Maybe we should call the tech specialist,” one of the others suggested.

Heft snarled. “Yeah, call back the ‘specialist’ who couldn’t set it up right the first time. Great idea.”

Keeping a professional expression was a skill every trooper learned from a young age, but Boss suddenly found it more difficult than he had in a long time. The rest of Delta was throwing subtle glances his way, clearly trying to figure out if and how their sergeant would react.

The tricky part was that Boss couldn’t figure that out, either. Heft was a sergeant, too. Since there was no clear chain of command between the two of them, Boss had fewer options on how he could handle things.

After a few moments of internal debate, Boss decided it would be the most helpful if he took charge of the situation. He found your GAR-issued comm channel on the directory easily enough, putting on his helmet so he could make the call in a little peace… especially since Heft was still spewing insults.

You answered the call with your last name. No greeting, not even a first name. Boss blinked stupidly for a moment until he could shake himself. “Hey, it’s Boss. We’re in conference room 37 and the holoprojector isn’t working. Can you give us some ideas on how to fix it?”

“37?” you checked. “For the ARC briefing?”

“That’s the one.”

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

And the line went dead. Boss pulled off his helmet. “Specialist is on the way. ETA two minutes.”

Heft grumbled while a lieutenant offered to comm Aftermath to let him know about the delay. Boss cleared his throat. “Who will be delivering the briefing to Aftermath? I’d like to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”

“Who doesn’t?” Heft demanded, delivering a solid slap to the projector. “If this osik was set up correctly, we’d already be done.”

“Do y’think he realizes what a shabuir he’s being?” Scorch asked, too quietly for anyone outside of Delta Squad to hear.

A single, perfunctory knock sounded through the room and then you were standing in the open doorway. Boss looked at you immediately, offering a subtle smile, but your attention had been captured by Heft. The other sergeant had stridden up to you, looming far too close.

“This is ridiculous,” Heft ranted. “This was supposed to be set up and completed hours ago. Now we’ve had to delay a briefing for an important mission, all so you could get back here to see if you can do your job on the second try.”

Boss bristled, but you were already studying the holoprojector - from across the room because Heft was blocking the way, but your eyes were roving over it determinedly. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. I tested it myself when I set it up. Has anyone messed with the settings since I left?”

“No,” Heft said frostily. “That’s your job.”

“Di’kut,” Sev muttered under his breath.

You eyed Heft, clearly unimpressed. “I can do my job a lot better if I can get a look at the projector. Do you mind letting me past?”

Rather than wait for him to let you through, you stepped around Heft, the edge of your shoulder brushing against his armor as you passed. You took quick stock of the holoprojector, studying it from every angle even as Heft took a breath in preparation for more complaining.

Heft’s face was red with anger and Boss’s fingers worked on his vambrace. Putting his helmet on would be too obvious, but his HUD could record even if it wasn’t currently sealed to the rest of his armor. With the helmet tucked beneath his arm and facing forward, Boss was sure he had a shot of you.

“Maybe I do mind,” Heft bit out. “I want an apology for you wasting our time. We have an ARC trooper in the field who is taking time away from his mission to be debriefed. He has been waiting five minutes past when we were supposed to start and I’m not going to be the one held responsible for that delay! I’m going to Kenobi with this, I can tell you that much.”

Because Boss was watching you so closely, he noticed exactly when your eyes stopped roving over the projector. You straightened, standing calm and proud, a stoic monument against the weight of Heft’s irrational irritation.

You pressed two buttons and the projector flickered on, a holographic image of an ARC trooper appearing in the next instant.

In the quiet of Heft’s sudden speechlessness, you stepped forward and faced the projector. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” Aftermath reported immediately.

You gave a satisfied nod and turned back toward the door - and, coincidentally, Heft. “It helps if you turn on the console.”

Boss wouldn’t have blamed you if you had gloated for another ten minutes. Heft would have deserved every second of it. But you left the room, letting the door quietly close behind you.

He wanted to go after you, burned with the need to make sure you were okay, but he couldn’t leave the briefing. Not without a good reason. Especially since Heft was starting to brief Aftermath on the upcoming mission.

Fixer tapped his vambrace, then jammed his helmet onto his head. A moment later, he pulled it off, glancing at Boss. “Important call for you, Three-Eight. Needs an immediate response.”

“Understood,” Boss acknowledged with a nod. There were times when Fixer could be the most devious vod… Boss glanced over at Heft, who was watching them curiously. “I assume you have it from here, Sergeant?”

“Of course, Sergeant,” Heft replied, using Boss’s rank just as pointedly as Boss had used Heft’s.

Boss ducked out of the room, spotting your retreating figure immediately. Following you was simple - you clearly weren’t in a hurry, and his brisk strides caught up to your meandering pace with ease.

“Hey-”

You turned to face him with an expression of frustration and disbelief that made him freeze. “It’s working now, I tested visuals and audio myself. What else could you need?”

Boss raised his hands, hating that you had thought he would follow you to continue Heft’s beration. “No, I- Everything is working fine. It always was - Heft is just an idiot. Are you okay?”

You let out a breath, and Boss could hear the hint of a tremble in it. He sent out a silent plea that you weren’t going to start crying. Your eyes were bright enough that he worried he was seeing tears, but he would give anything he owned to be wrong.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you confided, voice sharp. “It’s not enough for me to do my job - I have to constantly reassure everyone that I know what I’m doing. Basic tasks take me triple the time they should because I have to convince people I’m competent, which puts me behind schedule, then everyone else thinks I’m incompetent because I’m late! Everyone warned me that government contractor work was a bad idea, but this is ridiculous.”

To Boss’s utter relief, you didn’t sound sad. Upset, sure, but more angry than sad. The glint he had seen in your eyes was barely-suppressed rage. He could deal with that.

“Then don’t let me make you late to your next job,” he told you.

Your expression froze, taking on a shade of guilt. “Boss, I’m not- I’m just venting. None of this is directed at you-”

“I know that,” Boss reassured you. “But we can walk while you vent. Lead on.”

“I-” You started walking, Boss gamely keeping pace beside you. “I think I might be done, actually.”

“You sure?” Boss didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, but you still looked tense. “It’s good for you to bleed off the frustration. Better than keeping it all inside.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You sighed, rubbing at your temple. “I’m just tired. Seems like everyone has a grudge against me. I’m good at my job and I know it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swim against the current.”

Boss gave a sympathetic hum. After a moment in which you didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Do you want to quit?”

“Yes.” You gave a little laugh, which had the interesting effect of restarting Boss’s heart immediately after it had stopped. “But that doesn’t mean I will.”

“I understand wanting to quit.”

You squinted at him. “Do you? I thought you were, like, engineered to be the perfect soldier. What else would you want to do, if not this?”

“I-” Boss hesitated. “It’s more theoretical than that for me. If I quit, it’s desertion.”

You scoffed, and Boss liked to think it was at the institution of the GAR rather than at his confession. Judging by the warmth in your expression, he was correct.

“Are you going to leave?”

The question came out softer than he had meant it to, leaving the conversation with a sudden feeling of intimacy. You shrugged. “I’ll decide after this mission. We’re in hyperspace - I can’t exactly step off the ship anytime I want. Besides, I’ll get hazard pay when we actually reach the war zone.”

“Lucky.” Boss’s pouting mutter made you laugh again. Wayii! He had just heard it for the first time few minutes before, but he already knew he would do anything to listen to you laugh.

“If it’s any consolation,” he added. “I recorded your conversation with Heft and I’m sending it to Commander Cody. None of the men should speak to anyone the way Heft spoke to you. I couldn’t interfere, or I wouldn’t have gotten a clear recording. I’m sorry for not giving Heft what he deserved. But since he’s a sergeant, too, it’ll be better for it to come from his commanding officer-”

“Boss, Boss,” you interrupted, lifting your hands up when he kept trying to explain. “I understand, and thank you. I don’t expect you to defend me against your brothers, though. That’s not a fair position to put you in.”

“You haven’t asked me to do anything,” Boss rejected. “I’m following up on this because it’s not right for you to be talked down to for doing your job.”

“Be careful, Boss,” you warned. The way your eyes sparkled, he knew it wasn’t a real warning, but he was still intrigued. “If you keep being so nice to me, I’m going to insist on buying you a decent meal when we’re back on Coruscant.”

Boss’s face went hot so quickly he wondered if they had wandered too close to the engine rooms. “You don’t have to do that.”

“And you don’t have to do this,” you told him, gesturing at his helmet. “You’re the only one on this ship who talks to me like I’m an actual person.”

“Sounds lonely.” Boss had experienced his share of dehumanizing experiences, both in the GAR and when they were in civilian surroundings, but he always had his brothers around. Without the rest of Delta Squad at his back, he wasn’t sure how well he would handle that kind of treatment.

“It is,” you agreed. “So I want to thank you. And I… I enjoy spending time with you.”

You looked so sweet, so sincere… Boss was losing himself in your eyes, but he wasn’t about to stop it from happening. “Name the time and place. I’m there.”

Your smile was just as breath-taking as every other time he had seen it. You gestured to the door that led to another set of conference rooms. “I have to go do some work for another long-distance comm this afternoon. But we could meet up later? We can debate about foods and restaurants, narrow down our options.”

“Sounds great,” Boss agreed, finally breaking into a smile of his own. He gestured toward your comlink. “I called you from my frequency earlier. You can always reach me there, just save it to your files.”

That smile turned undeniably to a grin as you ducked into the room. Just before the door closed between you, you winked. “I already did.”

Boss laughed to himself as he walked back toward conference room 37. With any luck, the briefing with Aftermath was already over. If not, at least he had something to look forward to.

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Author's Note - I'm pretty sure this is my first fic featuring Boss x reader and I'm really happy with how it turned out!

Reminder, this is a gender-neutral reader. But I'm also a woman who works in IT, so all of Heft's complaints were taken almost word-for-word from the stuff people have said to me. (Just in case you wanted some background!)

Thank you for reading and thank you to the anon who gave me this prompt! You can find other works on my masterlist here.

#star wars the clone wars fanfiction #star wars republic commando #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fic #sergeant boss #delta squad #boss x reader #boss x you #ink's fics #fic requests

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thecleverqueer · 5 months

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I don’t know. Maybe I mis-read the story, but I felt like the Ahsoka series wasn’t necessarily anti-Jedi. It felt more like Ahsoka finally accepted that she could actually be a Jedi after years of her believing that she was unworthy of doing that, and thereby giving her the right to pass on what she learned.

To preface, I do think her lineage had a problem with following rules. Obviously. Even Yoda broke rules when he went off on his trippy force adventure with Qui-Gon in the sixth season of TCW. It wasn’t that they all went against the Jedi teachings (save Anakin… which I won’t get into right now; I would possibly even argue for Dooku, but he was misguided and definitely did not go about anything in the right way), they just didn’t follow protocol. Most of them at least embraced Jedi philosophy (once again, save Anakin). They often broke rules and protocol loudly, but I can appreciate that as someone who hates the status quo and stringent rules. I say this to partially explain why Ahsoka often butted heads with Huyang about Jedi protocol. It’s not Jedi critical on a philosophical level as much as it is critiquing the protocols.

Now with that being said, let me talk about Ahsoka... Particularly, where Ahsoka was in her series and how that changes by the end of it:

Ahsoka struggled with the fact that she’d been trained as a soldier. Jedi were not soldiers; they were peace keepers. Ahsoka says as much to Rex on the Venator right before Order 66 was executed. She was incredibly torn by this. Ultimately, I believe it’s what caused her to leave the order in the first place. She listened to the words Barriss said, and agreed wholeheartedly. She couldn’t be part of the order as she was not a Jedi, but a warrior. It’s not that she didn’t want to be a Jedi, she DID want to be a Jedi. She just felt as if she no longer knew how to do that, or perhaps, couldn’t do that based on what she’d been doing.

It’s the main thing that she is stuck on when she had her flashbacks with Anakin in the World-Between-Worlds dream state. She struggled with her past. She was unable to reconcile the actions that she was forced to take during the war with her Jedi training that specifically told her not to do that. She mentioned that it wasn’t what she trained for, and by the time she was fighting the Siege of Mandalore, she only saw herself as a fighter. And, it’s something you saw in her character at the beginning of her series. She’s quick to draw her blades and come at you. She does not hesitate to fight Baylon at the reflex point on Seetos. It had unbalanced her, and that’s why she lost the fight.

Anakin basically told her that she’s more than just a warrior. All of the knowledge that came before him, the wisdom of Yoda, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, lived on through her. She was part of a legacy. Still, she struggled because of what Anakin became, and was hesitant to share the knowledge that she possessed in fear of planting dark seeds. It’s why he told her that she lacked conviction. In Rebels, Ahsoka was trying to convince everyone including herself that she was not a Jedi, and it was a culmination of all of her trauma. This was the moment that she must live (and let it go of said trauma), or die and literally drown with it.

In the end, Ahsoka chose to live, and the white robes weren’t the only thing about her that had changed. In her second battle with Baylon, she’s not as quick to draw her blades. She’s more worried about finding Ezra and Sabine. It’s not that she was completely unwilling to fight, but the fight wasn’t what it is all about. She mentioned this to Sabine as well when she told her that “being a Jedi is more than just wielding a lightsaber.” Ahsoka released the trauma, and embraced her Jedi past. It was not explicitly stated, but it definitely felt implied.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #pro jedi #ahsoka series #disaster lineage

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ruumirmir · 8 months

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𝘈 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘛𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴

Part I Part II

ੈ♡˳ Author's◇ note - Haha what if I pretended my shamelessly OCfied male reader was a character :))) Here's to me doing everything possible to build up my "reader" lore. Everything except actually drawing and naming him 😭 If you're curious about previous posts regarding my mans, you could skim over These!! Me when writing this: im gonna make up SO MUCH BULLSHIT about snezhnaya and the other harbingers.

𝘝𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 : ENG - Stephen Fu (Noe Archiviste from Vanitas no Carte) JP - Kento Ito (Dan Heng from Honkai Star Rail)

𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 : October 19 (Libra)

𝘈𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 : Northland Bank of the Fatui

𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 : Hydro

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 : Cygnus Venatici (The Hunting Swan)

A senior branch manager of Snezhnaya’s Northland bank. As a fatuus, he is formally well-known as the Venator Dux, who mans the Snezhnayan Order of Gold and Exchange founded by the Ninth Harbinger. He hunts in pursuit of the Tsar's vision, but his loyalties are far removed from her.

𝘝𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦-𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 Ah, the renowned traveller, in the flesh. A visitor to each of the seven nations, while your reputation has run across the continent twice over. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you've heard of the Snezhnayan Order of Gold and Exchange, that'd be me who's in charge of it. I am one of the agents within Lord Regrator's primary circle of officials, so you may address me as Venator dux.

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘵: 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 I've been in my respective position for over a decade now, and for the last four years, have come across choice tales surrounding your name. A big fan of your work, really! Lord Regrator has had his interest piqued for a while now... so for the sake of civilized peace and alliance, let's get along... shall we? Try not to cause any trouble and I might consider putting in a good word for you.

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘵: 𝘋𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘉𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘴 A large bulk of my work is centered around days of scrawling pen over paper... but really, one can only digest hefty documents for so long. I've had my fill for many years on end-... now, I'd prefer to partake in more physical tasks.

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘵: 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 I fear the new batch of rookies are growing too lax in their combat training… perhaps it was my uninspiring teaching method today. As a Venator, it simply won’t do to disappoint them. Traveller, would you help a man out and join the session today? The trainees could do with a fresh perspective on things.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐𝘵 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴

No shelter to be seen... here's to praying that you don't catch a cold. Oh don't worry about me, I seldom get sick.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 I've always wondered how the real clap of thunder would feel in comparison to a shock of electro. Unless you want to volunteer for that, watch your step.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐𝘵 𝘚𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 Eh... I've seen it once, I've seen it a thousand times. That being said, the nights that are covered in an impossibly slow curtain of snowfall are some of the rarer times I stop to admire it.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘶𝘯 𝘐𝘴 𝘖𝘶𝘵 Finally. Some real warmth to my face. I am but a simple man, languishing like a wilted flower in the absence of our sun's blazing gaze.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 Actually... I think I might just prefer the miserable winter cold over this.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘐𝘴 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 What's with the aggressive breeze today? Does the Anemo archon have bills to pay?

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 Good morning. I was about to stop by the city lake on my way to the bank and feed the local geese. You can come along if you'd like. Keep your distance from Tatiana though. She bites.

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯 On a slow lazy day, I'd be waking up around noon. Fortunately, the weekend is right around the corner, so I can do just that.

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 Although the Northland "bank" closes to the public by evening, the building itself stays open till midnight for other classified affairs. So I may as well make the most of my break time before I'm needed again.

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 Oh, I must've lost track of time. It's quite late into the night, so before I go, let me walk you back to whatever establishment you're staying at... Oh, uh- I'm... not sure I heard you correctly. You said you live... inside... a teapot...?

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳: 𝘚𝘯𝘦𝘻𝘩𝘯𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘯 𝘖𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 It was the very first decree of order at the hands of Lord Regrator when he came into power as a Harbinger many years ago; to inaugurate a faction dedicated to rearing the potential he painstakingly carved into the foundations of the Northland bank. It is just as the name implies. An executive body responsible for developing economic policies and providing regulation, consulting, and forecasting of socioeconomic and business development, ranging from simple roadside shops to production factories-Oh, have I lost you? Haha... don't apologize, I've seen that expression a couple times before. In simple terms: we help run the nation's cycle of mora, trade system, and citizen’s businesses.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵 [Unlocked at Friendship Lv. 4] The title bestowed upon me, Venator Dux, signifies not just leadership but mastery over a successful hunt- or in some cases, a successful business strategy. The master hunter requires a discerning eye, a mind that can decipher the intricate patterns woven by our adversaries. Information is our ammunition, and knowledge is the silent arrow that strikes before the prey even realizes the hunt has begun.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘜𝘴: 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘴 Various forms of dance and song are the lifeblood of Snezhnaya’s festivals. During fall, you’ll find multiple dance troupes and clowns passing each village, town, and city to perform. I personally look forward to the dancers.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘜𝘴: 𝘓𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 [Unlocked at Friendship Lv. 6] Your little companion has stuck with you since day one? Truly? That is… a highly admirable trait, one that I will always stand by. Loyalty is not a mere pledge, it anticipates the unspoken desires of another; a commitment that transcends the superficial bonds of allegiance. I keep this ideal close to my heart... for only a single person.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 I was hesitant to use a delusion in the first place, so frankly, I’m glad to have been gifted this for whatever reason I was found worthy of. However… Lord Regrator harbours an uncanny dislike for my vision. It’s not something that has been brought up, but I can read between the lines.

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 You didn’t hear it from me, but I encourage the employees at the bank to keep a list of all the infuriating and rude customers. It’s to spice up all the sparring and combat practice sessions by naming and dressing up the dummies as people they’d like to kick- Ha!

𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 This wintry climate is harsh and unsustainable for various flora and fauna. The Charmomila flower doesn’t care about any of that. They’ll grow in obnoxious places if they want to. The real deal comes from the summer butterflies that feast on its nectar. After a while their wings turn a beautiful honey-yellow, which are harvested and brewed into the sweetest and most expensive nonalcoholic beverage you’ll find around here. I enjoy a glass of one semi-regularly on work mornings.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳: 𝘈𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 [Unlocked at Friendship Lv. 6] He will have my sincere respect, always. Lord Regrator has built his empire up from a scratch in the dirt, something impossible to do were he a lesser man. His sacrifices of blood, sweat, and tears has bled into the policies that the bank stands on today. Money breeds imbalance and power, which in turn grants freedom and recognition if you are on the right side of the coin. Regrator is a utilizing man and he guards what’s his, zealously. He will take and take until his arms sag with the weight, and uphold his promise to give out the correct equivalents because he lets his value of fair exchange lead him like a vice. For as long as he stays true to his greed, I will be the hand that reaches forward to grasp what he desires.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳: 𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘶𝘮 [Unlocked at Friendship Lv. 6] Lord Regrator expects a strict level of decorousness from everyone working under his name- from me to even the most forgotten grunts. It's nothing outrageous of course. You would only ever see the metaphorical boot-licking than a literal one. I find it a bit much sometimes but the public eye is nothing to scoff at. Especially to a man of his status. The Snezhnayan dvoryane make up more than a third of the Northland Bank's clientele- not to mention the stakes a couple of them have invested. And if there is anything that those feather-headed fools care about, it's posh theatrics. *Sigh* Still... I quite enjoy falling in step with Pantalone's politesse. He has a beautiful manner of speech that I've never been able to measure up to.

𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳: 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 [Unlocked at Friendship Lv. 6] …Why do I feel like you’re trying to fish for critical information...? Fine- I'll concede. It's your head on the line anyways. Lord Regrator is a big player in the system of underground businesses that connect Nathan and Snezhnaya. Technically it could be called a black market, but it’s mainly run by a small council of social elites from both nations. There are occasional hosted auctions, that my lord targets to buy out priceless artifacts from. I’m talking about lost pieces of history and endangered caged beasts over items with resell value. Now… with that being said, as long as this secret remains safe… so do you. It’s always me who’s dispatched to make sure it stays that way.

#➳❥ Ooh Lover Boy #pantalone #genshin #genshin impact #fatui #fatui harbingers #pantalone genshin #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #genshin impact fatui #➳❥ Rumour writes #➳❥ rumour says #genshin imagines

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yildraws · 1 year

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morningtide - a self-indulgent little fraywol comic, set after endwalker MSQ, before 6.1 :)

pages under the cut! (tho if the images aren't clear/big enough on here, i've also uploaded it here)

(small afterword: if you've made it to the end - thank you for reading!! i'm just thinking very hard abt endwalker still. and i just wanted to draw fray and my wol having a meal together (eventho my wol is the only one eating) (also also this is just me mashing together what i like from the diff localizations of fray...... i'm haunted by the knowledge forever that in GER/JP fray says to you "let's go on an adventure/journey together")

and i guess this sort of became my wol's answer to the question venat posed to the wol in elpis 🥹 (it was worth it!!!!! thank you for the ride)

anyway, i hope you enjoyed it! ☺

p.s. this will also be available as a printed zine at CAFKL! (limited copies tho since it's a very self-indulgent oc doujin project)

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #fanart #fray myste #yil art #finally i've drawn a doujin for them after 99999 years...#penguin saluting fading into dust.jpg #fraywol

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stormclaws · 5 days

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thinking about the parallels between venat and g'raha and i need to lie down (but i rambled for 1.5k words instead)

major spoilers up through the end of endwalker

like they're both victims of circumstances beyond their control, right? there's no right choice to make. there's no objective way out to save everyone. but if they don't act, then there will be nobody left to save at all.

there's one person they know could do the impossible. all they need to do is put their entire trust in them, structure hundreds (or thousands) of years of their life into a singular plan to prevent disaster, and wait for them to kill you.

let's think about old sharlayan. the day theme is so pretty! the atmospheric singing is a bit hard to make out but it adds to the vibes. you can tell that they planned the city the best they could around the terrain. everything is grouped together in places that make sense, structured around learning and preserving knowledge.

we find out that beneath the city is labyrinthos, but deeper beneath that is the aitiascope. they've gone looking for god and they've found her.

and all this time she is singing. she is guiding souls gently into the afterlife with a gentle lullaby. you finally realize it: this is the singing you hear in old sharlayan. you can hear god alive and well.

imagine her watching the other reflections. each of the rejoinings. an imperfect decision that led to the final days of other entire worlds (i mean. not directly her fault but you get it) and just watching as those calamities ripple over to the source. holding on to the world she split apart. planning escape routes for humanity with the best possible outcome leading to her death.

like can you just imagine that. waiting for the one who will ultimately save the entire universe, the only one who will have then known you personally as the human you once were. who will have SEEN this put in motion and you trust them not only with your life, but the life of every person on etheriys.

and you've been holding on all these years because you want to give them one final test and blessing, culminating in your death. you grow weaker every day. and one day you finally see the strange adventurer from all those years ago come into existence and make ready for them to end yours.

do you even think about the fact that they might fail? that instead, you kill them and all of this will have been for nothing? will your love for humanity and trust in this one, singular individual have been enough?

you wait and you sing.

and back above the surface, you (the player) find some sort of familiarity in old sharlayan that you can't quite place at first. i mean yeah, there's new sharlayan in the hinterlands but you figure that the two would look similar. but when you think of the singing, another city comes to mind: the crystarium.

g'raha mentions that he based the look of the crystarium after his time in old sharlayan. it's easy to see once you pay attention: the domes, arches, white brick, and the overall elegance of the city. but even more importantly, it's designed in such a smart way that every part of the city has its own section. you can even draw similarities between the studium and crystal tower as center points.

beneath the city, they're growing plants to try and restore some of the damage from the flood of light. there's precious knowledge they want to save. they can use the crystal from the tower in the domes as protection.

the crystal exarch loves his people, but he loves his home world beyond imgine. he promised with his life to keep it safe which is why he locked himself away in the crystal tower; it was the only way to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. he was promised to be woken up when things finally got better. instead, he awoke to a future where everyone and everything he's known is dead.

do you think the blue crystal of the domes was a reminder for the people of the crystarium of the blue skies they lost a hundred years ago? or for the home g'raha could never return to?

there's no right way forward, but there is one thing he could try. there's one person he knows could make things right. so he spends a building a city, protecting his people, and studying the tower's secrets so he could tear that one person from the source and bring them to the first. it's incredibly dangerous for the warrior of light, but ultimately the crystal exarch will be the one to pay the consequence for this: his life.

like we all know how tragic it is, right? waiting all that time with the stories of the warrior of light to keep him company. he wanted to be an adventurer just like venat wanted to spend her retirement traveling the star. the game makes it very clear that he talks about what he would have loved to do if his duty didn't set him on this path. i don't need to re-invent the wheel.

but let's take a minute to let that sink in. all of this time and effort for the best possible outcome to lead to your death. imagine that there's no other way out. you've had all this time to think about it; what's one life in exchange for countless others? it's the love of his world and the warrior of light that keeps him going. (consider that love how you will--admiration, romantic, trust)

he needs that love to be the blade that kills him.

and this whole thing might fail, too. he's risking your life on this bet as well. it might be too much for the warrior of darkness and the corruption might create the most powerful light warden ever imagined. but the people of the first and source were already doomed. he reassures himself that threading this needle is the right way. he reads the tomes of the warrior of darkness's deeds over and over and over, imagining it was him by their side instead of alone in the tower.

as a lover of stories, he'd want to make this a good one. one that hurt less for the protagonists. if he can convince everyone (including himself) that he betrayed the warrior of darkness for his own selfish deeds in his final moments, it'll be easy to let him go. painless and hated. cauterize the wound on the killing blow.

...but the thing is, that's not what happens.

so let's actually reroute for a minute. we've spent this entire game with the mantra "for those we have lost, for those we can yet still save".

estinien sharpened his life into a blade for revenge. he built himself for one purpose and was ready to die to achieve it. when he begged for us to kill him after the final steps of faith, we said not today and found a way to make him live.

g'raha--at least one version of himself--ultimately lived because we found a way out together.

there's no way to save venat. either we kill her, or she kills us and dies in the final days.

imagine g'raha recognizing himself through her. that used to be him. do you think he would have tried to find another way out for her? stayed up at night for weeks on end afterwards wracked with survivor's guilt?

he, above anyone else, could understand completely the way she felt. maybe instead he felt catharsis in the fact that she could die with a duty fulfilled? with the dignity she wanted? did he feel grateful for her sacrifice, empowered by the fact that he got to live a second time when so many others couldn't?

do you think he was proud that he could fulfill her one last wish, the same one he had in a different lifetime?

maybe he found peace in the fact they both knew this: even if they die, their love will live on. everyone else lives because they won't.

...admittedly, despite this whole thing being about endings, i'm not great that myself. i've got literally no idea how to wrap up these wramblings, but i've been listening to the sharlayan day theme, the crystarium night theme, and flow on repeat while writing this. the music in this game carries so much weight so i think i'll just leave you with some lyrics from these to ponder on instead:

Deep, dark, far away, I have heard your voice, weighed your every choice Now our hands join round the meaning you sought I'll catch your tears, quench your fears with joy, til you near the shore Where in time, all shall as hope be reborn

Stand tall my friend, may all of the dark lost inside you find light again, this time, tumbling, turning, we make amends, eternal winds from the land ascend here to lift us that we won’t end!

#tempest.txt #ffblogging #ffxiv spoilers #content warning for suicidal lines of thinking #didn't trigger/bother me at all writing this but if you consider the link between the two you'll see what i mean

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myrfing · 9 months

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wee bit too lazy to write out a full thing but discussion of how venat percieves and experiences love is always a treat. i think her idea of it is very much colored by being an ancient and also made self-paradoxial by her singular meeting with the wol. but it should be accounted for that:

- her taking on the mantle of hydaelyn and “the will of the star” was not a matter of prestiege or control beyond what was needed for the sundering and the binding of zodiark. like the convocation with zodiark, she saw a utilitarian purpose in a god, but unlike the zodiark faction, she disagreed with the core of their faith that would make manifest the “will of the star” in the first place. being hydaelyn seems to be more of a prison to her and a self-imposed “i will answer to every one of you when you die”

- if it is not hard to imagine that the convocation would sacrifice half of their population twice out of a sort of deep civil love, I don’t think it should be necessarily weird to say venat loves pretty much the same, & the difference lies in her much broader extension of that love (i.e. beyond amaurot) and her refusal to “sort” lives based on utility; she believes in an extreme sense that life in etheirys stands together and needs to evolve together. you are a part of the world; the world is part of you. it’s up to the reader really but her love doesn’t seem insincere or odd to me because the idea of “loving the world” in the first place is a kind of love that is different than the one you would extend to say, your family and just the people you know. given the previous point there is no reason she would take on being a god otherwise

- kind of an aside but she’s implied to be a little alienated from amaurotine society. IN MY PERSONAL INTERPRETATION her connection and relationship with the wol comes off as one of the most personal and genuine she’s had despite how brief it was. herein lies the contradiction where the wol is possibly the first person she felt the more “familliar” sort of love for. whether that was before the sundering or more colored by how much she hinged upon the existence of the wol as hope itself is up to you but this is partially why weird rabbit escape pod incident happened. this is probably the more “relatable” love she expresses: i want just You to escape and survive even if it damns someone else and damns the world

- ee3 does spin it out a tad weird & also fails again to really draw a solid connection between her and meteion & hermes. this can just be cus well it’d be funny if a encyclopedia waxed at length about the most private personal intricacies of some woman they have a singlar source for but well. i’d argue those two are integral to understanding her choice because of her refusal to eliminate or ignore meteion & the question posed by hermes

#venat wall 55

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wild-karrde · 8 months

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Guarded - Part 2

Master List | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: HI HELLO HOWDY. I know it's been a minute, but I'm STILL WORKING ON THIS REWRITE! And HERE IS THE NEXT PART! Just a reminder that if you get antsy, you can still read the rest of this fic (I'm leaving all the chapters on the master list). I'll just be updating them as I go, and the "Next Part" of the new chapters won't link to an old one so you can see where I am with the update. As always, thank you to the stupendous @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this for me!

Chapter Rating: T

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4.4k words

Captain Typho led the squad of clones down the elaborate hallways, their boot heels clicking on the flawless marble flooring. Stained glass windows tinted the sunlight shining in, casting various shades of reds and purples across them as they walked in silence.

Crosshair took in the environment around him silently, his eyes scanning every inch of the palace they walked thorugh. It was breathtaking, particularly after he’d spent most of his life on Kamino, then starship after starship, and then of course the Imperial prison that he’d been placed in after attempting to return to the Empire. He shuddered slightly at the memory of the cool, dark cell that he’d been locked in. The single member of his Imperial squad that had escaped from Tipoca City had sealed his fate in the Empire’s eyes.

Traitor.

Rampart’s words echoed in his mind. He remembered hanging his head, studying his boots as the realization of his fate sunk in.

A traitor, but to who?

He was grateful that his brothers had rescued him from the prison, but he was also angry with them, angry that they didn’t come for him sooner, angry that they’d abandoned him in the first place. It seemed like anger was almost all he could feel anymore, but most of it was directed internally.

How much of it was the chip, and how much of it was me?

The Empire had told him his chip was removed from the start, claiming that they’d removed it to test his loyalty as a soldier rather than enhancing it, strengthening it so that he would be helpless to resist it. He’d never questioned that, even as he shot Wrecker while his brothers had tried to escape. He had planned on killing them all, drawing them out one by one, and not for a second did he question this sudden change in loyalty.

Good soldiers follow orders. Kill the traitors.

The enhancements to the chip had been so thorough that nothing in his mind had noted the difference. He’d heard Wrecker talk about trying to fight the chip when his own had activated, but Crosshair hadn’t even known to try. He fought back in some ways, but he always thought it was an internal struggle, his “severe and unyielding” nature, as Tech had put it pushing back against something else.

He hadn’t realized that the chip had been damaged by the Venator’s engines, hadn’t known that he’d been able to resist it after that. He just assumed he still had control, unable to differentiate where his own will ended and the chip’s programming began. He hadn’t even noticed the difference in how he viewed his brothers, how he no longer wanted to just kill them or the sudden remorse he felt for shooting Wrecker. He’d always just assumed it was him being conflicted and changing as the Empire evolved.

The most painful thing for Crosshair was that while he hadn’t noticed the abrupt change within himself, neither had his brothers, the ones that knew him best. Of course they’d initially suspected the chip, but when he told them that the chip had been removed, as he believed it had, they didn’t question it. They just believed him, believed that he was capable of the things that he’d done, and that was what tortured him at night as his brothers snored around him.

They thought I was a monster.

His chip had continued to degrade in the prison, and the headaches became more frequent. By the time Tech and Hunter had burst through his cell door, he’d been curled in a corner, rocking back and forth in agony as his brain felt like it was throwing itself against the inside of his skull. Tech had scanned him as soon as they’d gotten back to the Marauder, finding the bright abnormality in his brain immediately. The look of guilt that they all shared when they saw it crushed him as he realized what they’d thought of him. Now, his fingers absently drifted to graze the uneven scarring pattern on the right side of his head as he rehashed the memories.

Of course I was loyal to the Empire. I had nowhere else to go. And then, when they gave up on me, I had nothing. I still might have nothing, just the illusion of their trust.

Now, it was as if he was a complete stranger to them, no one knowing the way forward after what they’d endured. Hunter had tried to fall back into their normal routine, almost as if he refused to acknowledge Crosshair being gone in the first place, but it just made the disconnect even more apparent. Wrecker was borderline clingy, constantly trying to joke him out of his foul moods and playfully shoving him to try and regain some sort of normalcy. Echo very clearly had no idea how to be around him, and Tech was, well…Tech, going about his business as normal, but with the occasional guilty look when he thought Crosshair wasn’t looking. Crosshair suspected he felt the most remorse for not putting the pieces together sooner.

Omega had oddly been the most tolerable. He hadn’t forgotten what she said as they escaped Tipoca City, and neither had she. She’d been quiet in her attempt to reintegrate him into the team, never really pushing him. The first day back, he’d been sitting quietly in the back of the ship, chewing on one of his fingernails to try and calm his nerves as his eyes darted around the space he’d once called home. Omega had approached quietly, offering him a toothpick from his pack that they’d kept aboard the Marauder. He’d snarled at her as he took it, but immediately popped it between his teeth, chewing it as he mulled over what his future would hold.

But she stayed.

After that, she’d sometimes just sit by him quietly tinkering on something or reading on her datapad while he cleaned his rifle, never attempting an unnecessary conversation, but just existing near him in a way that the others seemed incapable of. She’d occasionally ask questions about his weapon, and he’d reflexively be annoyed, but it never seemed to deter her, and after a while, he gave in, describing the modifications he’d made and how the weapon worked. He’d noted Hunter watching them at times, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, which just annoyed Crosshair more.

He would never admit it, but he missed the kid, even if she was safer in the place she was now. They’d left her at the fledgling rebel base on Yavin 4 to continue her medical training beyond what she’d already learned on Kamino. She was eager to help the rebellion in any way she could, and Crosshair found that admirable, especially in one still so young.

The sniper was snapped out of his own thoughts as he ran into Wrecker’s back. He was immediately annoyed he’d let his thoughts get the better of him and even more annoyed when he noted Wrecker’s wide-eyed wonder. The large clone had stopped to stare up at the stained glass window that they’d just walked past. A woman with dark hair in a long red gown was depicted. The gown appeared to be fur-lined with massive amber gems accenting the hem. A golden headpiece framed her face as her long hair hung down her back. Her expression appeared solemn and, in Crosshair’s opinion, someone grief-stricken. At least as much as a stained-glass depiction could be.

“Is that-”

“Former Queen Padmé Amidala,” Tech stated. “After serving both of her terms, she served as a senator for Naboo, who died-“

“Serving her people,” Typho interrupted him. The captain’s face was stony, but Crosshair didn’t miss the clench of his fist at his side nor the sadness in his eyes.

“I apologize. You were in her service at the time of her death, correct?” Tech asked.

“I was.”

Hunter stepped forward. “I’m sorry. We never had the privilege of meeting the Senator, but by all accounts, she was kind and fought the good fight. Moreso than a lot of her political counterparts.”

Typho nodded, gazing at the window for another moment before turning wordlessly on his heel to continue down the hall.

Crosshair knew that look. It was one of a man that felt he had failed, one of guilt that he carried like a brand on his soul. It was a feeling Crosshair was all too familiar with.

They turned down a few more corridors before arriving in a hall that split off into multiple dormitories and suites.

“The queen’s suite is this door here,” Typho said, indicating a large carved wooden door to their left. The door was ornate and seemed mostly decorative, but Crosshair noted the blast door slats that were hidden along the edges of the frame, likely intended to seal in the event of a palace breach. The keypad to the right of the door seemed to be a straightforward biometric interface, one that could likely be overridden by a select few such as the captain in an emergency.

“Will we be allowed to inspect it for security purposes?” Echo asked, interrupting Crosshair’s observations.

“You may once we get you situated. We had an…incident a few rotations ago, which is the reason why you’re here.” Crosshair noted the captain’s eyes darting towards the keypad as he nervously flexed his fingers at his side.

He must have had to try out those emergency overrides the other night then.

Typho continued down the hall to the next door down. “This is the handmaidens’ dormitory. And this,” he said, backtracking to the door closest to the main hallway, “is where you’ll be staying. We’ll give you the codes to get in and out.” Reaching down, he punched a four digit code that Crosshair immediately memorized. Glancing over, he could see Tech noting it in his datapad as well.

The clones followed Typho into the common area of the suite, which had a set of couches gathered around a low table. There were several bedrooms branching off the main gathering area, and Crosshair rolled his eyes as Wrecker raced into the first bedroom.

“It’s got its own ‘fresher and everything!” he exclaimed gleefully, poking his head back out of the door with a wide grin.

“Two beds per room, so I’m afraid you’ll have to share,” Typho said apologetically.

Hunter chuckled. “After spending so much time tripping over each other on our ship, that won’t be an issue, Captain. We appreciate the hospitality.”

The captain nodded. “These uniforms are what you shall wear around the palace while you are protecting the Queen.” He gestured at a table where the uniforms had been laid out by the palace staff. Crosshair did his best to not immediately wrinkle his nose at the yellow fabric and brown, seemingly leather armor.

Those chest plates wouldn’t stop a stiff breeze. And they look like they weigh a ton.

Wrecker appeared to be far more enthusiastic about their new wardrobe, immediately reaching for the largest helmet, and letting out a whoop when it slid easily onto his head.

Typho smirked. “We’ve had larger guards in the past, although ones your size are few and far between. However, I’ve been assured that this uniform should fit you, Wrecker.”

“Thanks!” the large clone exclaimed.

The captain glanced around one more time at each of them before turning to Hunter. “I’ll leave you to settle in and get changed. I have other duties I must attend to. I’ll stop back by in a while to brief you further. Until then, I must ask that you not leave this suite unless escorted. There’s a signal pad by the door to summon an aide should you require anything further.”

Hunter nodded in acknowledgement, and with that, the captain slipped his helmet back on and departed with only the hiss of their door marking his exit.

“Well, this all seems…weird,” Echo said, picking up one of the Naboo armor pieces to inspect it.

“How so?” asked Hunter, neatly stacking his clone armor in one corner before pulling his shirt over his head.

“Well for starters, the queen’s older than I expected,” Echo noted, setting aside the new armor to start working at the latches on his own chest plate. “I thought all Naboo queens were teenagers. Senator Amidala was only fourteen when she took the job if I remember correctly.”

Tech already had the yellow tunic on and was cinching the provided belt around his waist. “You would be correct, Echo. Typically, the Naboo elect significantly younger queens. However, there have been some exceptions, such as Queen Réillata, who succeeded Senator Amidala. I believe Queen Nodala is actually the oldest monarch elected. She ran on a very anti-occupation platform, stating that she wished to protect Naboo’s sovereignty, which aligned with popular sentiments. Her opponent was much more lenient towards the Imperials. Nodala’s election actually was taken as quite the rebuke of the Empire, which has likely contributed to her ongoing troubles with them.”

“Sure, fine. But why are we here then? They’ve got a whole Palace Guard. What could we be needed for?” Echo muttered, finally managing to get his armor undone. It took him more time to get out of his kit with one hand, but he’d adjusted remarkably in the time since he’d joined their squad, and they all knew better than to offer to help him.

“I can answer that,” came a voice from behind them. They all turned to find the lieutenant from the throne room standing in the doorway.

Iden, Crosshair noted mentally. Short. Confident. Observant.

He’d noticed how her eyes hadn’t stopped scanning them since she’d first been introduced to them, and even now, she appeared to be mentally taking notes as she glanced around the room. He tried not to glare when her eyes passed over him, one eyebrow raising slightly in appraisal before she turned to address Hunter.

Bit of a bitch, but maybe that comes with the territory of being short in stature and having an authority position.

“Glad to see your uniforms fit,” she said with a grin, extending a gloved hand to Hunter. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Lieutenant Iden Vena, chief of the Palace Guard and head of security under Captain Typho.”

Hunter clasped her arm, and the rest of them nodded their acknowledgements, introducing themselves one by one.

“So, what is it you need us for?” Hunter asked. “So far, we’ve been given almost no information.”

“You are required because you can operate outside the bounds of the Naboo guard, even if you’ll be dressed like them,” Iden replied, eyes still roving over the group. “Many of our officers are volunteers, and even though they receive excellent training, it’s become increasingly apparent recently that additional help is needed if we are to protect the queen.”

Hunter nodded. “Captain Typho mentioned a recent incident.”

Iden’s mouth hardened into a thin line. “Did he now?”

Crosshair watched as her jaw twitched.

This was personal to her, he thought. Somehow, she feels the failure is hers. And she really doesn’t like feeling like a failure.

Iden took a deep breath, clearly weighing how much to tell them without her commanding officer present. Finally, she sighed, meeting Hunter’s eyes. “There was a lapse in our security. We have not completed the investigation yet, but it appears the rotation schedule was tampered with, although we have yet to identify how. Either way, an assassin was able to breach our external perimeter, scale the outer walls, and make it into the queen’s private quarters through a window.”

“Well, they clearly didn’t succeed, so at least your security held up where it counted,” Echo attempted to counter, but Iden shook her head, seeming to cringe.

“Actually, the queen was the one who shot him. We arrived moments later. He died before we could interrogate him.”

Echo and Wrecker’s mouths fell open slightly and Hunter and Tech exchanged a look. Even Crosshair felt his eyebrow raise in surprise.

The queen can handle herself apparently.

“There have been other attempts on the queen’s life of course,” Iden continued quickly. “That comes with being the leader of a planet, but they’ve become more frequent and more well-planned. This was the closest they’ve come, and we fear there will be more, which is why we’ve brought you in.”

“Who would want to do this?” Hunter asked.

Iden gave him a hard look. “We have our suspicions, but we are still investigating who could be responsible. As for motive, all I can say is that it is a resources dispute.”

Crosshair’s teeth clamped down on his toothpick in annoyance.

She’s lying.

“Not telling us what’s going on makes our job harder. You’ve got to know that,” Echo grumbled, echoing Crosshair’s own thoughts.

“I understand, but that is all I am able to tell you at this time,” Iden replied curtly, glowering at Echo.

Definitely a bit of a bitch.

The tension grew as the silence stretched out until Tech stepped forward, datapad in hand. “We were told we would be able to inspect the queen’s quarters. I’d like to get an idea of what your surveillance system looks like.”

Iden shot him a glare as well, but Tech didn’t appear to notice as he continued punching buttons on his datapad. Echo tried a more gentle tack.

“It’ll give us a better idea of how we can help you.”

The lieutenant narrowed her eyes, giving Echo a once over before finally nodding.

“Very well. This way please.”

Iden led them back down the hall and through the large wooden door. She used a code to enter, which Crosshair found interesting.

They must only use the biometrics for emergency entry. That makes sense. Probably on a separate circuit as well. Harder to fake those than an access code.

He did find himself annoyed that Iden cast a glance back over her shoulder before she managed to block his view of the keypad completely. It made sense from a security perspective, but it only seemed to drive home the point that they were outsiders, others brought in to help while not being given the full weight of the Naboo Guard’s trust.

Fine then.

The room itself was simple enough with a line of windows that looked out over the private gardens on the palace grounds, a few decorative paintings and tapestries, and a large bed tucked against one wall with matching nightstands flanking it. There was a small hallway that led back towards a connected private refresher with a massive closet tucked next to it, and at the end of the hall was a small private office that the queen presumably used when it was more convenient than working at the desk in the throne room.

Tech and Echo spoke with Iden in hushed voices, going over the layout of the security system while Hunter and Wrecker inspected the various rooms. Crosshair leaned against the window, peering out at the grounds below. Remembering Iden’s description of how the attacker got into the room, he walked along the line of windows, trying to find the entry point of the assailant. At the place where the windows met the exterior wall of the room, he found where he believed the man must have climbed up. The windows ended near a decorative stone column that protruded off the building, framing the edge of an arch that extended over the windows. There was just enough of a ledge where someone could have a finger hold that would allow them to haul themselves up and through the window. As the sniper’s eyes scanned the architecture, he noted a small indentation driven into the stone.

They had climbing gear. They planned this well in advance and knew what they were doing.

Leaning up against the window, he looked down. It was about a fifteen story drop to the gardens below. There was a line of trees that probably would have kept the assassin concealed from view for the first few meters, but they still would have been completely exposed for a majority of the climb.

They must have scaled the wall quickly in order to not be seen by the incoming guards. Or the guards were too stupid to note someone on the side of the building.

He pressed his fingertips against the windows, glancing at the mechanisms that allowed them to open.

Locked from the inside, thick glass, wouldn’t have been able to shoot it out with a single blaster bolt, and they knew it.

“How did the assassin get through the window?” he asked, and the room went silent. He felt irritation twist his gut, but shrugged it off as his brothers and Iden all turned and stared at him. He’d rarely spoken to them unprompted since his return, so hearing him ask a question was understandably somewhat of a surprise. That didn’t stop him from being annoyed by their reactions.

They want normalcy, but when I speak, they act like I’ve grown a second head.

He clenched his teeth a little tighter around the toothpick, but said nothing further.

Iden stepped forward, pointing at the pane at the end of the line of windows. “We believe he used some sort of device to disable the window lock from the outside, although we haven’t been able to determine what yet.”

Tech walked up to the window, adjusting his goggles as he inspected the locks. “This would have required a rather simple apparatus to de-magnetize the locking mechanism and enable the intruder to open the locks. It would not even register as a perimeter breach in the system, so an alarm would never have been triggered.” He turned to look at Iden, who was clearly struggling with the “simple” part of his statement.

“We didn’t really anticipate someone scaling the side of the building. The locking is mainly to keep them closed should there be a concussive explosion near the palace during an attack. The glass is blast-proof.”

Tech said nothing as he contemplated the information for a moment. “And now? Have there been changes to protocols in light of these recent events?”

“We’re working on replacing the locking devices with something more sophisticated,” Iden replied, clearly on her back foot in this exchange and not pleased about it.

“Excellent.”

Echo and Hunter exchanged a look. “So, how did the rest of the incident play out?” the clone sergeant asked.

Just then, the door behind them opened, and Captain Typho entered. “Ah, good. You got started with the inspection.”

“I was just asking for the details on the incident you mentioned,” Hunter repeated.

Typho walked to the bed, turning to face the window. “The queen was asleep but was startled awake by the sound of the window lock disengaging and the window opening. She said she sat up, saw the intruder, got out of bed, and took shelter behind this nightstand.” He let his gloved hand rest on the wooden surface of the nightstand as he stepped through the scenario. Crosshair noted how small the nightstand was.

She would have had to crouch down very low and hug the wall tightly to hide. Either the assassin is a terrible shot or the queen is incredibly lucky. Perhaps both.

Typho continued. “The queen was able to retrieve her weapon from her nightstand drawer. The intruder got up on the bed, standing over her. At that point, the queen decided to…erm…tackle him.”

“Tackle him?” Echo asked, stunned. Wrecker let out an approving laugh, a smile creeping across his face.

“Yes. She managed to incapacitate him and hang on to her weapon. She attempted to subdue him, but he did not comply, and she was forced to shoot him. He died before he could be interrogated further.” Typho’s eyes rested on a particular spot on the floor, clearly replaying the moment in his head. Crosshair assumed that was where they’d found the assailant, and an amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he imagined the scene.

The captain must have been absolutely fraught, walking in on the queen in her nightgown with a dead man underneath her. It was obvious to him that the queen and the captain shared a close relationship, although to what extent, he couldn’t be sure. Close enough to where she’s fine pushing his buttons in front of unfamiliar company, and close enough to where he feels comfortable pushing back against her, however subtly. He flicked the toothpick between his teeth to the other side of his mouth as he pictured the amount of force the queen would have had to hit the assassin with in order to tackle him, much less subdue him. It was hard to imagine the woman they’d met in the throne room doing such a thing, but her being alive was enough of a confirmation of what she could do. A woman capable of that hardly needs a security force, he mused internally.

Hunter was stroking his chin as he considered the scenario. “I understand you’re upping your security system on the windows. What other measures have you taken since the attack?”

“Each rotation schedule is signed off manually now. We no longer rely on the automated systems to generate it, so there should never be another gap to allow someone to penetrate our patrol area. In addition, we’ve doubled patrols for redundancy. We have a team inspecting all of our other security measures to audit any other shortfalls we may have, and any changes we make are being kept confidential among the security force. We would welcome your input on that as well.” Hunter turned to Tech who nodded in agreement.

“And then there’s you. We’d like to have one of you stationed with the queen at all times during the day, and then of course, you’ll be right down the hall at night. We plan on installing a panic alarm on the nightstand here that would allow her to alert you should something occur.”

Hunter bobbed his head in understanding. “Alright. We will work up a guard rotation schedule and supply you with it.”

“That would be most helpful and appreciated.”

Crosshair noted Tech had wandered back to the window and was inspecting the locking mechanisms again. As his brother fiddled with the controls, he watched as the window opened slowly. One thing about the entire exercise caught his attention, sticking in the back of his mind.

The window unlatched without any sound at all.

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