#random names for random clones

[bluerosefox]

Family Resemblance

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I had another 11pm brain worm.

Enjoy

-x-x-

Daniel Wayne, the younger toddler brother of Bruce Wayne and the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne had been kidnapped the night their parents were murdered.

Daniel had been snagged the moment their killer heard people headed to the alley and Bruce in his state of shock didn't realize it until it was far to late and could only scream in horror (from everything) as his baby brother is crying his name. (If you wanna make it even more heart wrenching, make it Danny's first time being able to say Bruce's name right and/or Bruce had said some mean things to Danny earlier after he accidentally broke something of Bruce's, something like 'I wish youd go away' or 'I never wanted a brother, you're such a bother!')

Bruce is being held by Alfred as some police officers are chasing down the Wayne's parents killer while some stay behind to see if they could do something.

Minutes turn to hours and as they wait, praying the police at least found Danny, Bruce is ridden with guilt. From his parents death to allowing his brother to be kidnapped.

Eventually the police return to give Alfred and Bruce the news. And it's not good.

The killer escaped and Danny was nowhere to be found.

And it would take many years before he would be found.

-x-x-

Bruce gets a call from Damian during school hours one day. When he answers he is greeted with Damian demanding him to get to the school and explain himself.

Confused Bruce asks what does he mean and Damian responds with

"The two new students in class today are the spitting images of you and I father! Either they are poorly created clones or you have more hidden blood children!"

-x-x-

Meanwhile the very students being discussed are calling up someone too

"Ellie? Dan? What's wrong? You better not have made too much chaos already, I just paid for the uniforms for that place."

"DAD! I THINK ANOTHER ONE OF THE FRUITLOOPS FAILED CLONES SOMEHOW SURVIVED!"

"What?"

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

Various Horde Clone names I've done for my fanwork.

So, seeing something about clone-oc names, and how it is likely that they'll name themselves for random things. I've named a sizeable flock of my own. While a lot of my clones are one-off for a particular story and I have relatively few recurrents, I have come up with interesting names. Recurrent: Robin - named himself for the bird, also a common human name. Jerome - a common human name, he liked the way it sounded. (In meta: inspired by an old ghost-town / mining town in Arizona). Robin and Jerome took the additional, surname of "Reaper" and later became known as the Reaper Brothers due to their profession of naming and claiming the clone war-dead / general undertaker work. Wander - an adventerous type. (In meta, inspired by a video game character-name). Vigilance - a strong clone who is protective of his friends. Phoenix - a clone that Vig saved. Rather slight-bodied as he suffered a lot of injuries in the war and his body never corrected out. Hordak Origin-story clones: Hordak (special note on the canon-character). - In my story, I decided that "Horda-aku" meant "Horde-sinner." Basically a derivative of "Sinner" became his name. Valor - an especially brave Brother with good military prowess. Stern - a rival to Hordak, an asshole. Named by Scorpion-people, not himself. Silence - a clone with damage to his throat, courtesy of being too willful around Prime. Cannot speak until he gets a copy-voice-box installed, in foreshadow to Imp. Scout - a good scout. Lin, Zel, Gan - Scorpions named them for a legend. Stupid video game reference. Bereft - a clone that grieves his fallen brothers a lot / has an "overage of emotion." Deep-feeling, to his detriment. There are others, but those are some of the more interesting names. One-off story clones: 1999, or "Niner." - Appeared in one of my short off-canon Entrapdak stories. He's a space-trucker. His proper name is is serial number, HK-1999, which he never exchanged for a name. People nickname him "Niner" sometimes, but he dislikes it. Not a law-abider, though, an utter rogue. Honey - A very young and childlike clone adopted by a loving family. They didn't know what to call him, so they called him "honey" a lot. He also developed a passion for the food of honey. - Sadly a victim of murder. Nova - the first clone that Robin and Jerome named posthumously as part of their funeral services. He loved the stars and got excited over seeing novas and supernovas. There are others, these are just some of the more interesting names I've come up with for these "mooks in canon / let's have fun with them in fanwork" beautiful beings.

[stardume]

Hypothetically, do you reckon that for the younglings that grew up in the Jedi Temple would do like ‘your mum’ jokes except instead it would be ‘your master’?

Like I can fully imagine a random youngling going up to their friend and telling a Your Master joke, and running away giggling menacingly

IMAGINE A YOUNGLING SAYING THAT TO LIKE OBI-WAN YODA OR ANY OTHER COUNCIL MEMBER THOUGH

I feel like depending on which council member they’d tell it to, they’d either get a laugh or get banished from the order, there’s no inbetween

It would be so funny though

[0h0possum]

A Codywan and How to Train Your Dragon crossover that turned into a the Mandalorians factions are dragons AU, because I can never just do something simple and for the heck of it.

If you’re not interested the AU lore, leave now or suffer my rambling lol.

Basically, the idea is that Mandalorians started as a race that could shift into dragons. The Mand’alor line and those of most influence were notably ‘Fury’s (for example Mand’alor Tarre Viszla was a Nightfury and so is his generational line). But over time most Mandolorians who could shift were killed off or just lost the ability as more non-shifter Mandolorians married in. Eventually only a few of the Fury’s were around, and when Mandalore split most chose factions lead by the remaining Fury lines. AKA: the New Mandalorians/Lightfury’s, the Haat Mando'ade or True Mandalorians/Duskfury’s, and the Kyr’tsad or Death Watch/Nightfury’s.

Basically this also helps explain (in my head) why Mandalorians would follow Death Watch (terrorists) or the New Mandalorians (Intense Pacifist). It’s because they see those lines that can still shift as chosen leaders or a physical embodiment of the Ka’ra’s will.

How is Obi-Wan a shifter though? Well in this AU he’s the son of Tor Viszla. Long story short, early on when Obi-Wan was born he displayed being force sensitive, and Obi-WAN’s mom (Tor’s wife??? Idk it’s not important to the story) basically went ‘Aw hell naw’ and tried to drown Obi-Wan. Only to be stopped by a traveling Jedi who stole Obi-Wan and saved him. Totally unaware that this baby was Mandalorian, the son one of the biggest Mandalorian factions, AND also one of the last few existing Mandalorian dragon shifters. (Also Obi-Wan’s mom doesn’t want to admit that she lost Obi-Wan to a Jedi and just tells Tor that he was force sensitive and she succeeded in drowning him).

Maybe I’ll get into it later but basically Obi-Wan grows up as normal in the Temple, but obviously at some point he shifts and has the biggest panic of his life. But with help from friends (Quinlan, Garen, Siri, and Bant) he figures out shifting (enough to control it) and helps keep it a secret (Mandalorians and Jedi still don’t have best relations and Obi-Wan is paranoid about being kicked out of the Order anyways *cough cough Brandomeer cough cough Melinda/Daan*). To be clear, Obi-Wan isn’t like ashamed of what he is. He just doesn’t want the judgments of coming from CLEAR Mandalorian roots, and Death Watch at that. Plus he kinda just decides to not think about how he’s pretty much definitely related to well known terrorist Tar and Pre Viszla, because then he doesn’t have to address it. Besides he’s happy as a Jedi.

Anyways, NOW CODY-

So without getting to detailed (mission failed lol) all the clones ARE shifters (Duskfury’s just like Jango Fett), but they have it suppressed by the Kaminoans (probably part of their chips? I haven’t thought it fully out yet). BUT THINGS HAPPEN, probably Cody and Obi-Wan get stranded alone somewhere for a long time and Cody gets his chipped fucked up somehow, and now he’s shifting into a dragon???? And scaring the shit out of both him and Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan exposes himself as a dragon shifter as well to comfort Cody and show that he will keep his secret. Plus he clearly understands him. (At this point they both are under the impression the clones aren’t shifters, and think Cody is just an outlier and “late bloomer” so to speak). Cue them learning how to be dragons together and be comfortable in their other form.

And eventually they get rescued and find out somehow all the clones are shifters, and therefore find the chips and discover Palpatine’s plan, SO THE GALAXY IS SAVED!

(Additionally the clones get rights and go to form their own society/group (Obi-Wan comes with to be with other dragons, but mostly to be with Cody), and they form an alliance with the New Mandalorians and accidentally unit Mandalore purely by the three Fury types (Nightfury/Obi-Wan, Duskfury/Cody, Lightfury/Satine) being around each other lol.

[bilberson]

Good design, nice young lad

[redbean-nom]

kind of funny how the legends explanation for why boba's armor looks so beat-up in rotj is that, in the time it took to deliver han from the empire to jabba, he ended up going on an arena-championship sidequest, getting randomly shot at because jabba put a massive bounty on his head, getting in a muffled brawl with chewie while hiding from four syndicates and vader, getting almost blown up like three different times, and blowing up the room he was standing in to steal han back from the rebels who had stolen him from the empire who had stolen him from crimson dawn who had stolen him from boba. he really had a horrible week huh

[jpeg-dot-jpeg]

PLEASE finish your clone boy fic please I am BEGGING you

girl me too

[im-smart-i-swear]

Stickbug and his awkward i-didnt-even-want-to-be-in-this-photo smile

[maricoelquelolea]

I got introduced to clone high very early on in my life, like i was literally 3-4 years old and my waay older cousins used to watch it in this shitty tv. The point is that my toddler brain couldn't really grasp the whole "clone" aspect of the show, and because at the time it didn't really have any Latin American nor especifically Venezuelan historical figures I could recognize as real people I honest to fucking God thought Abraham Lincoln and JFK were made up. I remember my cousin showing me a picture of the actual JFK in a history book and me bursting into tears cuz i was so afraid

[melien]

[mushroom-for-art]

Rue belonging to @blues-sues and Mays cloned crack children! Old vs new!

I love them so much

While I kept the old bases basic I did still edit them to their old appearances then used them to remodel into the newer look.

Since May long horn genes that grow back both of them have bits of horn growth at the back with Prodigy having more of a spike flourish while Betas is more tall. I noticed as well two of mine have this eyebrow horn but thingy so Beta also got that.

He still has his damaged second neck from being runty and is thinner in feature in the redesign, noodle arms.

Prodigy got more of a round snout like Rue while Beta is rounded square as Mays family (and my way of drawing twos) they have boxy snouts. I altered their eyes too as I think when I originally did them Rues ref had different eye shapes, this time Prodigy has soft triangular squareish eyes a mix of Rue and May while Beta has more triangular eyes like Rue softened by Mays big ol eyes.

Prodigys chest plate is more Rue aligned and boxy as May has a few boxy chest plate havers in her lineage and the bottom points are similar to Matts' too. While Betas is curved like Rues but May shaped at the bottom.

Prodigys tail reminds me of Neopolatin ice cream, the swirl may be larger than like canon I may have went overboard so it may be less ott in official art depending on the vibes, it's fine, exaggerated chibi feature my beloved XD. May has a gene for heterchromia seeing as Dusty also has it. Her reddish purple eye is just Mays brown moved to purple, likely having mixed with Rues purple eye gene for that color.

Beta has partial heterchromia having mostly mama Rues eyes with flecks of Mays and green as May probably has a green gene and I thought it looked good. I headcanoned his original orange colored stripe went up his back to just below his second neck and it's the same here with him having a stripe that fades to blue from Mays blue stripe gene and Rues stripe gene.

Being runty and likely a little genetically defective Beta suffers from pigmentation damage from dna degrading hence his paler patches and clumps they're similar to Prototypes discoloration stripes in placement at times while also being mostly random. Tho around the eye was intentional to mimic an injury.

[sonknuxadow]

sonic isnt trans because of surge. i mean yes sonic is transgender but its not because of surge. surge and kit arent clones so surge being a girl doesnt mean anything in the context of sonics gender. please just trust me theyre not CLONESSSS PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU TO LISTEN TO ME

[itstimeforstarwars]

Loving everyone in the comments of the leverage fic giving their opinions on what species the gang should be it is very fun and it is giving me Ideas.

[wanderingmirror]

The cabin was old. But warm and cozy. It was summer on this planet. The trees full and green. Birds chirping in the distance as the window allowed a cold breeze to flow into the cabin. The curtains fluttered in it's grasp. The living room had a fireplace bracketed by a love seat and an arm chair with a coffee table in the middle. All around the room hung pictures of a long forgotten time in history. Of soldiers who looked alike, of monks with abilities beyond the imagination. Of villains and plots filled with darkness and destruction.

The sound of dishes being done in the kitchen were the only noise outside of the birds. The kitchen was clean, counters empty of anything not meant to be there. At the sink stood a man with a scarred appearance. Dark skin with an amber eye. The other a milky white in appearance but really it was a cybernetic. A final gift from an old friend cut down by betrayal. The hands freeze for a moment at that memory before they continue the mindless work. Once dark brown hair was now grey, still routinely shaved across the sides and bottom of the head. Braided to reach the center of the man's back though it was moved to rest over the left shoulder.

The face was the most scarred out of the body. The result of a cannon blast that grazed him. Melting his armor and burning his body. His teeth were visible, the scar going across his eye and towards his scalp. His lips were saved but the cheek was not. Along the edge of the skull rested the tiniest of scars. You would never know that it was the result of a chip being removed from his head unless you were shown. The man wore a tan long sleeved turtle neck shirt with grey jeans, plain socks, and work boots. The shirt sleeves were rolled up to work, showing off the scars of a war fought and lost. A meaningless war for one man's greed to rule. One that devastated millions of souls. Once the last dish was done, the man sighed. He emptied the sink and dried his rough hands before rolling the sleeves back down.

The man began the last chore on his to do list. It wasn't difficult, despite the pain it brought nonetheless. He opened the door to the old basement and went down stairs. Turning on the light, revealing two sets of plastoid armor. Both from two points in time he wanted to both hold onto and forget. The first one was older than the second; blaster marks, scraps, dark places, and cracks littered the pieces like points on a map. Old looking paint colored the armor to look a dulling orange. He gently placed his hand on the chestplate. Eyes weary and guilt ridden. He was reminded of that fateful day. Could still remember aiming his cannon at tan robes and ginger hair. Remembers hearing that awful screech of the beast and the sight of that old friend falling to his death.

Guilt pushes him to turn his gaze away from that armor and glare hatefully at the armor beside it. Pure white with similar marks. Not a scrap of color to mark how different the times were. Despite how close they were. He doesn't remember much of that time. He does remember the icy chill of cryo and waking up almost ninety years after everything was said and done. Despite his somewhat youthful appearance, he was well over one hundred. He felt old. Tired and worn. His frame looked nothing like it. Still fit and strong like his youth. He should be dead. And he has this odd feeling. He smiled sorrowfully. His old friend had rubbed off on him, it seemed. Slowly he left the basement, deciding that cleaning both sets could wait til tomorrow.

He moved to the living room, sitting down in the arm chair and sighing softly. He slumped down and closed his weary eyes. He felt exhausted. Crossing his arms, he decided to rest before going out to town. He knew that he needed a few things but they could wait an hour or two. He settled and started to doze off.

"Oi, Vod! Come on! The General is gonna be facing the Commander again!"

The male was jolted from his doze to see a man who looked identical to him. Outside of the scars and hair. The other man grinned with excitement as the grey haired man stood quickly. He ran ahead but the grey haired male paused at the door to the cabin. Looking back he debated if it was a good idea to leave before he was done with chores.

"Vod!"

He turned.

The man was looking at him with confusion and concern.

"You coming?"

The male asked and the other looked one more time at the cabin behind him. Unknowing of the freshly painted orange armor now adorning his body, the male decided that the spar of his superiors was too good to miss. And without a thought, he darted after his brother with a smile to match the other's own.

He never noticed that he had left an empty cabin behind him as his soul finally moved on.

[dyke-terra]

All friend groups have the vampire, the big guy, the clone of some random dead chick, a girl with wings, the guy who can turn into electricity, the Vriska kinnie, the guy stuck in their communicator, the exhausted mom friend, and Terry.

[ermakeys]

An Essential Aspect Of Gravity Is Not Being Afraid To Fall

This is Chapter 3. Go here for Chapter 1 or go here for Chapter 2.

AO3

Chapter 3: Tatooine

Aran has one more lead on where their grandfather might be. What favors will they have to pay though?

Aran sat in the co-pilot’s seat of their own ship. They kept trying to take deep breaths but their chest felt compressed. The armor that shielded them from the world now felt like it was crushing them. Kit had climbed into the cockpit to press a cool hand to the back of their neck as they struggled to just breathe. Aran was grateful that he didn’t seemed to mind the death grip they had on his wrist.

“Breathe through narrowed lips, Aran,” Chad instructed from the ladder behind them. He sat on the top rung and with a small twist, Aran was able to see him. Chad grinned and started to demonstrate what he meant. Opening his lips in a narrow line and sucking in air through them. “You can do it, bro.”

Aran sucked in a shuddering breath through their lips. It took some time, but slowly Aran felt like they were regaining some control. At the same time they felt their cheeks heat with shame and embarrassment. When had been the last time they had lost control like this? Five years? Seven?

Certainly before they had met Kit, Chad and Purse.

Never in front of anyone since they had left Mandalore.

They slowly pulled Kit’s hand from their neck and stared straight ahead through the transparisteel. The bright lights of hyperspace rushing past flashed by as Purse checked over the controls with a frown. Aran didn��t want to acknowledge any of them. Didn’t want to look at any of them. They were afraid they’d break again.

As it was it felt like they had entered a haze when they’d finally told Kit that their ba’buir was missing. They couldn’t remember going back to the firespray. Only later when Kit and Chad had prodded at them on where to next had Aran been able to slowly snap out of it. They’d choked out the next set of coordinates before the panic had set in.

They wanted to just disappear.

“So, you’ve misplaced your ba’buir,” Purse drawled and then yelped when Chad smacked his arm. “Hey! Careful there, I’m flying this thing!”

Purse ran a hand over the controls with a scowl and grumbled, “Why you’ve never introduced me to this beauty, I’ll never know. Flies like a dream.”

“Bro, could you not for once in your life?”

Aran couldn’t help the way their lips twitched into a hidden smile. They flexed their hands and winced when they felt how cramped their hands were from having them curled into tight fists for so long. Aran sucked in another breath and murmured, “Ba’buir retired on Naalol. It was supposed to be safe.”

“Safe from what?” Chad asked and Aran couldn’t help flinching.

“The Great Clan Wars, the New Mandalorians, the Kyr’tsad. The civil war tore our home apart and left many broken and twisted people behind,” Aran scoffed, shaking their head. “Not to mention other bounty hunters we pissed off when the two of us started taking bounties.”

Aran smoothed their hands over their knees guards and muttered, “Ba’buir started slowing down. He stayed behind on Naalol while I left to hunt. We stayed in touch and I visited when I could.”

The cockpit fell silent. Aran stared out into the streaming lights of hyperspace while their three friends mulled over their words. They felt like they were shaking. Hot and cold at the same time. They didn’t feel anxious about talking with others. Usually though they didn’t talk about themself.

Purse had once said that they only knew three things about Aran and one of those things was that they only knew three things about Aran.

They didn’t know how to be any different. Their past had necessitated keeping everything close. Opening up now with even this little… It made Aran break out into a cold sweat.

“Alright, so we’ll help you find your ba’buir,” Chad declared and Aran couldn’t help but flinch when he broke the silence. He reached up to tap his knuckles against Aran’s helmet and grinned when Aran glanced down at him. “Hey no bro left behind, right? We’ll save the galaxy one bro at a time if we have to.”

No judgment. No suspicion. Just open acceptance. Purse and Kit even voiced their agreement.

Aran felt their form slump a little with relief. They shouldn’t have expected anything else from him, but to have that confirmation, that validation… It made it a little easier to let them in a little more.

Which they would have to, considering where they were going.

They tensed a little again when the computer beeped that they were about to exit hyperspace. Purse quickly focused on flying the ship again and Aran’s hands curled into fists again. A jolt went through the ship as the firespray exited hyperspace to hover over the beige and brown planet in front of them.

“We’ll help you look for your ba’buir, but where are we and where can I put us down?” Purse asked with a raised brow in Aran’s direction. They grimaced, glad their face was hidden behind their visor. They were not looking forward to this next step.

“Welcome to Tatooine,” Aran drawled, reaching for the flight controls. With a few taps, they transferred flight control from Purse’s seat to their own and begun the descent towards the desert planet. “And we’re headed for Jabba’s palace.”

—

Tatooine was hot on a pleasant day and today was not one of them. The twin suns staring down on the planet made even Aran break out in a sweat despite their suit having some temperature control. Even their suit would give out if they stayed in the hellish glare of both suns for too long.

Luckily, they didn’t think they would have to stay out in the suns for too long.

They stepped off of the ramp of the firespray with Purse, Chad and Kit behind them and were met with a pair of Gamoran guards. The one on the left gave a small nod and in their loud speech demanded, “Who comes to the gates of Lord Jabba’s palace?”

Said palace towered above them.

Aran had set their firespray down in front of the hangar doors where guests would usually park their vehicles. The majority were speeders of varying designs and cost with a handful of ships. They tensed when they didn’t see the ship they had hoped to find.

“Beroya Aran Rovhoss,” they answered the Gamoran, tucking their thumbs into their belt with a casual swagger. They felt a flash of pride when they saw the two tense at their words and confident posture. “I seek an audience with Jabba.”

The two Gamorans glanced between each other before one turned away and hurried back into the palace. The remaining Gamoran waved at them to follow and said, “Lord Jabba is very busy, but you are invited to enjoy his hospitality while you wait.”

Aran gave a sharp nod and followed, feeling relieved when they heard their friends following behind. To say they’d been shocked they were going to Jabba’s palace would have been an understatement. They knew they would have to answer questions later. The thought made Aran’s headache throb painfully.

The palace hallways were pleasantly cool in comparison to the heat outside. They were quiet at first with the occasional servant or guard passing, but became louder the closer the Gamoran took you to the throne room. At the entrance of the throne room the Gamoran gestured for Aran to proceed and then walked back they way they had come.

Aran stepped into the throne room with Purse, Chad and Kit close behind. A band played while a few women in revealing outfits danced to the music near the throne. People crowded the edges of the throne room, talking, laughing, drinking and eating. Enjoying Jabba’s hositality.

Jabba who lounged on his throne.

The oversized slug made Aran sneer. Their ba’buir had told them stories of the Hutt warriors of old. The Hutt slugs in modern times were nothing but decadent and slothful creatures. Jabba observed a poor fool before his throne pleading for his life while a slave fanned him and another pretty slave was draped across the throne in front of him.

Aran let their gaze sweep across the room before making their way to a half occupied table. What looked like two Trandoshan smugglers sat there, huddled close and whispering and they paused the conversation when Aran approached with their friends. Aran flicked several credits at them and jerked their helmet to the side in a silent command. One the two Trandoshans understood and happily complied with when they saw the amount of credits Aran had tossed them.

“How do you have immediate access to Jabba’s palace?” Purse hissed through his helmet’s vocoder once the four of them sat down at the table. Purse leaned closer so no one else beyond the table would hear them despite the crowded room. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to even get in this far?”

Aran shrugged and muttered, “Ba’buir and I did a few jobs for Jabba. He was very pleased with our work.”

“You’ve worked for him?” Chad asked with a look around the room. Aran felt their hackles rise defensively and their posture stiffened. The tone had been neutral and curious, but they couldn’t help but listen for judgment.

“When you start at the bottom, you take the jobs you can,” Aran snapped and their hands clenched around their knees tightly. Their headache throbbed and they tried not to wince as the loud music and chatter made it ache. “I didn’t have the luxury of choice. We were lucky that someone recommended us to Jabba.”

Kit leaned forward and Aran saw the wariness in his face despite the hood he had thrown over his head. Hutt space was dangerous enough without advertising that there was a jedi accompanying them. Not to mention two clone troopers. He glanced towards where the man kneeling in front of Jabba was crying and murmured, “How does this help find your grandfather? Would Jabba know?”

Aran shook their head with a scoff and drawled, “No, Ba’buir trusted Jabba as far as he could throw him.”

“Then how-?”

Kit’s question was cut off by the loud and guttural laughter of Jabba. The music continued to play, but the conversations quieted or fell silent entirely as the room turned their attention to Jabba and the fool in front of him. The huge slug shook with his laughter and stroked a hand over the slave in front of him like one would a pet.

“I like you, Pern,” Jabba chuckled in Huttese and Aran felt their skin crawl at his voice. “That is why I will only have one of your hands for taking what is mine.”

The man paled visibly as a pair of guards stepped forward and grabbed him. He screamed as they began to drag him away, pleading for Jabba’s mercy, but the slug’s attention had already turned elsewhere. Jabba was listening to his Twi’lek advisor, whispering something behind his hand.

Aran curled their lip in disgust. Both were disgusting to them. The advisor, Fortuna, was lucky to have Jabba’s protection or they would have hunted them long ago.

Jabba straightened slightly at something Fortuna said and his eyes swept the room. Aran saw their companions twitch out of the corner of their eye when Jabba’s gaze settled on them. Jabba raised his arms with a wide and unnerving smile and in Huttese exclaimed, “Rovhoss! It has been too long since you have visited me. Come, step forward!”

Aran pushed themselves to their feet and stepped forward. Chad, Purse and Kit followed closely and Aran inclined their head to Jabba once they stood in front of him. They ignored the grates under their feet where they knew the rancor rested. They knew with Kit, Chad and Purse behind them that they would be fine, but the screams of those that had fallen below rattled in their head.

“Greetings, lord Jabba,” Aran answered in Huttese and tucked their thumbs into their belt. They could feel the anxious energy tickling under their skin. The room had returned to its previous volume of conversation, but Aran knew they were being watched. Rather than show their hands fiddling or twitching, they kept their thumbs tucked in their belt in a display of confidence.

Behind them, they could hear Kit whispering. Probably translating what he understood for Purse. Aran knew Chad was fluent in Huttese and Kit understood a little, but they didn’t know about Purse.

Jabba chortled and waving a hand, asked, “What brings you to my home? The jobs on Coruscant run dry? I’ve heard many interesting stories from the core world.”

Interesting stories was one way to put the death or a corrupt chancellor revealed as a sith lord.

“My lord, I require the time of one of your hunters,” Aran answered and ground their teeth when Jabba stroked the head of his slave again. “I have questions for my friend, so I can find my mentor.”

Jabba’s eyes widened in open curiosity and he tilted his head.

“You cannot find Rovhoss senior yourself?” Jabba inquired and hummed when Aran gave a shake of their head. He rubbed a hand across the chin before giving a nod. “I will allow it. You remember where his rooms are?”

Aran resisted the urge to sag in relief. Instead, they nodded and then froze when Jabba smiled again. Not the same pleased smile as before. No, this one was predatory.

“I can expect to call on you for a return of this favor at a later date?”

Of course it wouldn’t be for free. Nothing ever was with Jabba. Aran’s temples throbbed and they bared their teeth in a silent snarl as they tried to compose themself. They gave a sharp and Jabba chuckled, “Go on then. I will call on you when I have need of you.”

“Woah, wait, hold on just a second!”

Aran stiffened when Chad spoke up behind them. They glanced back to see Chad step forward with his hands raised and in Standard exclaimed, “You can’t be serious, bro? An unknown favor just to ask a bounty hunter some questions? Bro, you have got to set up some limits to that favor!”

Aran shook their head in annoyance. There was no time. If this would get them access faster then they would do it. They’d already stained their hands in blood before, what was a little more? They opened their mouth to tell Chad to shut up, but their friend had already turned to face an amused looking Jabba.

“Bro, sorry to step in like that, but I’m looking out for my bro here,” Chad said in Huttese and placed a hand on Aran’s shoulder. “A favor like that is such a bad deal for just a few questions. Can’t we work something else out?”

Jabba considered Chad before beginning to chuckle.

“What could a clone of the Republic offer me?” he chortled, his entire form shaking. He pointed down at them with a wicked grin and Aran felt their insides burn with fury. “What could you possibly possess? You are nothing but property of the Senate. Attack dogs of the Republic to terrorize-.”

Aran didn’t even realize they had taken a menacing step forward until Chad had grabbed their arm. The music and conversations had fallen silent. They glared up at Jabba, ignoring all the blasters now pointed in their direction and snarled, “These are my friends.”

Jabba simply laughed and Aran trembled with barely contained anger. They had to keep it in. Stay in control. If they had been here alone it would have been different if Jabba insulted them.

“What if we gave you information on the Pykes?”

Jabba’s attention shifted from Aran and Chad to somewhere behind them. Aran turned in time to see Purse step forward, visor fixed on the disgusting slug. Purse held up a data chip and in Standard said, “I have a record of their most recent activities and transmissions and I think some of them might be interesting to you. The Hutts and Tatooine are mentioned with increasing frequency.”

“Purse,” Aran hissed, reaching out to pull his arm down, but Purse evaded them deftly. It didn’t help that Chad was still holding on to them as all the blasters in the room were still trained on them.

Purse moved closer to the dais where Jabba lounged and drawled, “I think this is a pretty good deal. Free information about your rivals and a gang trying to encroach on your territory. All for a little time with your hunter.”

Jabba hummed, stroking a hand over his chin as he considered Purse’s offer. Finally, he smiled and in Huttese declared, “The Pykes have been increasingly annoying and while they pose no threat to me, having this will be a good way to poke holes in their operations.”

He turned his gaze back to Aran and smirked.

“I would have enjoyed holding a favor over you, Rovhoss. Perhaps next time.”

Aran sneered under their helmet and forced themself to relax as Purse handed the data chip over to Fortuna. They shook off Chad’s hands as Purse stepped back to rejoin them and waving at them Jabba, drawled, “Off you go. It was good to see you again, young Rovhoss.”

Grinding their teeth, Aran gave a curt nod before turning away and stalking towards one of the open doorways. The guests and courtiers shied away from them as they exited the throne room and entered a dimly lit hallway as Chad, Purse and Kit scrambled to follow them. The music and conversations started up again behind them once they had left the throne room behind and Aran curled their hands into fists.

Kriffing Hutts. Wished they’d never had to deal with them again and Aran stopped to calm down a little. They flexed their hands and glaring at Purse and Chad, growled, “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

They heard Purse scoff through their vocoder and he shook his head.

“If you’re so eager to become a lackey of the Hutts, then by all means go ahead,” Purse snapped back, gesturing back towards the throne room. They could still hear the conversations and music echoing down the hallway. “I thought you asked us along to help you and not just stand on the side and look pretty.”

Aran flinched at his words and looked down. They hated feeling like this. They were teetering on the edge with their ba’buir gone and even though they had three hands reaching for them to help… Aran kept swatting them aside and falling closer and closer to the edge.

They took a few deep breaths. Calm. They needed to be calm. Aran closed their eyes and murmured, “You’re right. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, can you repeat that again?” Purse asked and held up their arm, ready to record what Aran said. They stared at their friend before smacking their arm back down with a smirk.

“Eat glass, your ass,” Aran shot back, amusement in their voice before they sobered again. “I can’t think straight. He’s gone and I just… I need him back.”

Kit reached out and placed a hand on Aran’s vambrace, giving it a light squeeze as he smiled.

“We’ll find him. That’s what we’re here for.”

Chad bumped his shoulder against Aran’s and exclaimed, “Yeah, bro! You can rely on us. We’ve got your back.”

Aran leaned into Chad’s shoulder and wrapped their fingers around Kit’s for a moment and breathed. They could do this. They had support. Their main pillar was gone, but they weren’t alone. Maybe if they repeated that often enough, they’d finally start believing it.

“Let’s go find that hunter,” Aran muttered as they pulled away from Chad and Kit. They felt heat rising in their cheeks as they thought how much physical contact they’d initiated or received in the last few days. Their ba’buir would tease them relentlessly about it later.

And be so proud at the same time.

They led their friends through the maze of hallways that Jabba’s palace consisted of. Few people passed them as Aran guided them down the more secluded passages. They passed the doors to the hangar bay and Aran felt some tension leave them when they saw the same ship as their own. He was here.

At the top of a flight of stairs, Aran stopped in front of a locked door and rapped their knuckles against it. Their three friends arranged themselves behind them and Chad asked, “So, who is this hunter we’re going to be talking to? Anyone we could know?”

Aran felt their heart drop. Why hadn’t they thought of that beforehand? Oh kark.

Before they had the chance to say anything, the door slid open and a boy stood in front of them. He glared up at the four of them and Aran could feel their three friends tense at the sight. For Chad and Purse it had to be like looking into a reflection of their younger selves.

“Hello Boba,” Aran greeted the boy with a nod. Boba narrowed his eyes at them and they held out their open palms to him to show they weren’t reaching for a weapon. “Can you tell your father that Rovhoss would like to speak with him?”

Boba considered them for a moment before turning halfway and in Mando’a calling, “Father! There’s a hunter called Rovhoss here to talk with you!”

Beyond Boba, an apartment opened up with narrow windows overlooking the Dune Sea. Equipment, weapons, crates and other things lay scattered about and Aran felt themself relax at the sight. The last time they’d been here it had been similar.

They straightened when they heard steps and from a neighboring room, a man stepped into the main living area in the process of removing his helmet. He tucked the helmet under one arm and raised a brow at the sight of Aran. Neither he nor Aran had the chance to say anything though.

“JANGO FETT!?”

“The hunter you wanted to talk to was karking Fett!?”

“What in the name of the force…?”

Aran sighed at the exclamations of their friends behind them and shook their head. They gestured between their friends and Jango and drawled, “Chad, Purse and Kit this is my mentor Jango Fett. Jango, my friends Chad, Purse and Kit.”

Jango smirked at the introduction and stepped closer with a swagger in his step as Boba trotted over to him. Boba took Jango’s helmet as his father chuckled, “Missed me so much you decided to hang around my copies, ad'ika?”

Aran scoffed and stepped into the apartment with their three friends and the door slid shut again. They held out a hand and Jango wrapped his larger hand around his, pulling Aran close. They pressed their foreheads against each other and Aran felt himself relax fully into the touch before slowly withdrawing.

“They’re my friends,” Aran said and watched as Jango’s expression seemed to soften. Jango glanced down at Boba and ruffled a hand through the boy’s hair with a fond smile.

“They’re more than just copies,” he agreed quietly before waving at all of them to follow. Boba vanished into a neighboring room after a nod from his father. Jango sat down at his table with a grunt while Aran and their squad settled around the table with him and he asked, “What prompted this visit, ad'ika? I thought I’d said I wanted to lay low for a while.”

Aran nodded, grimacing under their helmet and muttered, “I know, but-.”

“How the kark are you still alive?” Purse demanded, drowning out Aran. They rolled their eyes as Purse gestured around the table. “What the actual kark? I’d heard you’d been decapitated? How are you even here?”

Jango lounged in his seat with a smirk and Aran just wanted to shake their head.

“I got better.”

Aran raised a hand before Purse could say anything and sighed, “My ba’buir and I helped. Got him to a med tech in time.”

“When was this? Why didn’t you say anything?” Kit asked with a frown and Aran shrugged.

“It was from before I knew all of you. No reason to tell you.”

“No reason to-!”

Chad shushed Purse before his brother could yell anything else and Jango glanced between the four of them. He drummed his fingers against the table top and focusing on Aran again, said, “You really haven’t told your ‘friends’ much about yourself, ad'ika. I thought if you trusted them enough to bring them to me, that they would know more about you.”

Aran felt their cheeks flush with shame and they turned their visor away. Only to look at their friends. Their friends who knew almost nothing about them.

“It’s… hard,” they ground out, slowly returning their gaze to Jango. “You know trust doesn’t come to me easily. By the time I do trust someone… they know enough.”

Jango grunted, rubbing a gloved hand over their covered neck.

“Fair. I’m not one to talk.”

“I came because of ba’buir,” Aran finally explained and Jango’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t get in touch with him. Has he told you anything? Gotten in touch recently?”

Jango scowled and grumbled, “The old fool. I told him to reach out to you when I picked him up. Can’t believe I have to deal with this now.”

Aran jerked at Jango’s words. He knew. He knew something! Before Aran could blurt out anything, Jango declared, “Kaert got in touch with me to ask me for a pick up. He said you were busy making up for my mistake. Karking shabuir.”

A pick up? Too busy to pick him up? Aran felt frozen. Their ba’buir had thought they were too busy to do something for him?

“How was he?”

Aran winced at how raspy their voice sounded. Jango grimaced and muttered, “Old. He was already old when you met him, ad'ika and that was almost twenty years ago.”

They felt a hand squeeze their vambrace. A glance down showed a green hand and Aran slowly pulled their arm free from Kit. They felt like they were falling. Collapsing under the pressure of their armor like a black hole.

“Where did you take him?”

Jango hesitated and Aran knew. They knew before he’d even spoken the words. No. No, not there. Anywhere but that hellhole. Please, please not-.

“Kaert wanted to go home. So I took him back to Mandalore.”