The war doesn’t end with a bang, strictly speaking. It doesn’t even end with a political forum, or peace talks, or a slow, wheezing death of the Banking Clan’s pockets running dry, even though all of those are valid possibilities. Some more than others, Cody has to admit.
No, the war ends with an article in the Galaxy’s least reputable news source, Coruscant Rotational. Splashed on the front page for all to see is Cody’s little brother, next to the Chancellor.
CLONE MEWS CHANCELLOR TO DEATH IN MOGGING MOVE FOR THE AGES - LOOKSMAXXING TAKEN TOO FAR?
“What”, says Obi-Wan, eye twitching, fingers massaging over the bridge of his nose at double their usual speed, a real sign of an impending nervous breakdown if Cody’s ever seen one, “the kriff does that even mean?!”
Rex shrugs helplessly with one shoulder, other arm raised aimlessly. “No idea, General. I only understand about half those words. Maybe we’re all having a collective stroke? Maybe Fox is having a stroke? Whatever he’s doing with his jaw in that picture can’t be healthy.”
“Well, not for the late Chancellor, anyways”, says Cody flatly, in the long-suffering tone of one who’s seen too much Jedi banthashit in too little time. He screws his eyes tightly shut, scrubbing the backs of his knuckles in hard enough to see galaxies explode. Nope, still the same words on that datapad.
“It can’t be true”, says Skywalker, who’d gone white as a shitty military-issue sheet and has been steadily pacing the room ever since the equivalent of a sonic bomb hit the room. “I mean - think about it, this could just as well be a Separatist ploy, it would play right into their hands, and Coruscant Rotational isn’t exactly the most reputable source -“
“True enough”, says Obi-Wan, thoughtfully. “They do like getting their facts mixed up. In fact, I’ve seen about six articles just this month proclaiming our dear friend Senator Amidala’s super secret pregnancy. They even falsified hospital records, can you imagine?!”
Somehow, Skywalker loses another shade of colour, gulping soundlessly, and resumes his pacing more frenetically than before. Weird guy, that.
It’s Rex who breaks the awkward stillness of the room, perking up suddenly. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we call in Commander Tano?! She’s about the right age to understand some of this dribble, right?”
“I was going to suggest calling Corrie HQ, but sure, let’s ask the teenage soldier from the space monk order who spends all her spare time hunting your legion for sport”, says Cody, dryly. Rex deflates, and Thorn’s tinny voice sounds through Cody’s comm before he can make his reply. “Marshall Commander, I assume this is about the News.” Ominous capitalisation, ooooh, mouths Rex, and receives the nearest datapad Cody can reach to the face for his troubles with a squawk. The fact that he can read that sentence off his lips means their legions have spent far too much time together, and also that Cody’s grown soft in his old age.
“Good to hear you too, Thorn, and yes, we do have some questions concerning why the kriff my vod’ika is accused of murdering the chancellor through what I can only assume is some secret Sith magic?!”
“Oh, you mean when he defeated the actual Sith on the Senate through the power of his superior mog and made the kriffer explode in a thousand wrinkly pieces? You’re welcome, by the way”, says Thorn, instead of literally anything sane.
“Commander”, begs Cody’s General, with something glistening that might actually be tears in his eyes. “Commander, please. I do not understand any of those words. I am begging you to put me out of my misery.”
PALPATINE??? SITH?????!!!, screams Skywalker in battlesign, somehow spelling out each individual question and exclamation mark.
“It’s a game we’ve started playing in the Guard, sir, to pass time on patrol”, says Thorn, sheepishly, cowed by nearly driving the High General Kenobi to tears. “We’d do stupid faces we found the holonet, and, uh - well Fox is so high on black-market morphine most of the time cause we don’t get bacta that he sleepwalks on assignment sometimes, and, uh, he started making them at the Chancellor during a holocall meeting with Count Dooku and then the Chancellor tried to electrocute him again but accidentally blew himself up-“
“Breathe, Commander”, says Obi-Wan, and then - “That is SO much information I don’t know what to do with, Force preserve me. Why is Commander Fox on black-market morphine, or sleepwalking, or making faces at-“
“He signs reports in his sleep too, sometimes”, Thorn interrupts the General. “It’s actually kind of impressive if, y’know, it didn’t make Stabby bust another capillary in pure rage.”
“Who’s Stabby?”, asks Obi-Wan, confused.
“Meeting with Count Dooku?!”, bursts out Skywalker.
“Congratulations on Amidala’s pregnancy, General Skywalker”, says Thorn, like a man who wants to see the world burn.
209 notes
·
View notes
Evidence that Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is not what he seems-Lt. SR:
Soap smells like rain, it took a while to put it together because it's not Soap himself that emits the odor, it just follows him. It's less potent inside and when it's sunny outdoors but if you concentrate it's always there.
He has never been observed touching a gun or grenades without gloves. Almost every other explosive he handles with no regard for his own safety gloves.
HE EATS WEIRD SHIT. While he doesn't eat much of the food on offer from the cafe, he does eat consistently when outdoors, usually plants or flowers. Things he has eaten: dandelions(edible), garlic(edible), thistle(edible but he ate it with the thorns), foxglove(toxic, showed no adverse reaction), Several unidentified flowers and berries, grass(technically edible?) Etc.
Will sometimes refuse to enter a place before abruptly going in. The data is not consistent between different buildings or locations. Further research is required.
Sharp teeth.
Groups things in nonsensical ways. He will only fill a magazine with bullets that total a multiple of 7 or 3. The same for what weights he uses in the gym. When drawing or eating he sorts by 4s. He traded his room to get #13 (right next door, coincidence?).
Cameras will not focus on him, whether photo or video he is never in focus regardless of distance or conditions.
He has never once been in medical for more than half an hour, usually much less. Even though his hands have light burns on them almost constantly.
Dogs hate him. He seems ambivalent towards them and he's never been bit that Ive seen. Cats adore him as do birds.
John MacTavish does not blush. Not for lack of trying even when genuinely flustered or hot, his skin does not flush.
Ghost sets down the small notebook with a minute sound of frustration. The evidence is all there but looking at it, what does it really say? Other than that he's an obsessive creep. A series of quirks and coincidences compiled by a paranoid son of a bitch into a fucking stalker journal. But still, Simon can't help but feel like he's right and he'd be dead a million times over if he simply disregarded his intuition. Even if it is something batshit insane.
At this point however it seems that it'll drive him mad far before it yields any answers. After scouring what little resources were comprehensible on the internet he'd started growing out his hair, intent on tying it in knots to prevent charms. Leaving him with a problem he'd not encountered since he'd first donned the mask: unruly curls and balaclavas don't mix well at all. He'd also kept a piece of stale bread in his pocket for days as he'd read it was a repellent to- and he can't even believe he's considering it-fairies. It backfired, if anything Johnny had been more attached to him and even more touchy than usual. He'd left a small deli cup full of coffee creamer outside his door overnight and found it neatly placed upside down where he'd left it with not a drop left. Ghost chalked that up to some wise guy playing a joke or an exceptionally dextrous cat and firmly shut the door on any other possibilities in his mind. His next test had been a gift of clothing mixed with complements, he'd read that both were likely to drive away any Other. It hadn't been a very extravagant gift, a new pair of gloves and a gruff "well done Johnny" but at the time it had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as Soap had gone white as a sheet(he can do that but he can't blush???) and scurried off. A quiet dread had filled his stomach the whole day until Soap turned up at dinner, a little quieter than usual but wearing his new gloves and eating more than usual(a scoop and a half of mashed potatoes with 4 packets of butter and 2 packets of sour cream as well as a cookie. The main course of spaghetti and meatballs went untouched though Gaz snapped it up before it could truly go to waste). Though when Ghost returned to his room late that night after trudging through hours of paperwork he found a pile of tiny, aromatic, pink flowers on the floor in front of his door and on top of them a shiny metal comb. Simon's tired brain hardly stopped to think of any of the dire warnings he'd found on forum posts and folklore sites alike, crouching and tenderly retrieving the piece from its bed of flora, careful not to crush any of the tiny blooms. Well... With all the knots in his hair-purposeful and otherwise-he's going to need a sturdy comb anyway.
921 notes
·
View notes
since i've done the astral express (+ aventurine and ratio), i figured it was time to do the stellaron hunters now. so, here's how i think they would take their coffee.
Blade - doesn't care. he will drink it black. he will drink it with so much sugar in it that it will kill him (he will especially drink it then). he will drink it iced. he will drink it made with orange juice. he, however, will only drink it if it's been handed to him. he won't make it himself.
Kafka - two shots of espresso. just a dash of milk.
Silver Wolf - doesn't drink coffee because she doesn't like the taste, nor does she particularly like hot drinks. she drinks only energy drinks; her favourite is the watermelon monster.
Firefly - french vanilla. that is all.
Elio - out of a bowl.
55 notes
·
View notes