#best sniper shebs

[eobe]

Hm, vod 👀✨ To what article you refer? The sparkly breakfast buns? 😁

Or one out of the super-niche magazine we maybe talked about? 🧐✨

However – I absolutely agree to the requirement of more data! 🤔👀

Fact

[myoongiverse16]

Crosshair x Jedi Reader One-shot

Summary: Crosshair keeps mentioning how clones are expendable. You snap and the rest of the batch urges Crosshair to finally confess how he feels about you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Warnings: Kissing, Crosshair being a shebs' oglon😂, and a smidge of suggestiveness at the end, if you squint.

Key for Mando’a words: Di'kut: idiot, shebs' oglon: a**hole, dank farrik: dang it, meg te haran: what the hell.

With Crosshair back in the squad, things have been……peculiar between the two of you. He was quite the brute and rude sniper when he first met you, and after everything he’s been through, you didn’t know how he currently felt about you.

I mean, sure, you had feelings for the snarky sniper man. But those feelings had to be pushed away when he left, to focus more on protecting the rest of the crew. Not that you forgot about him for a second. With him back, you didn’t know how you felt. 

Normally, he was usually a decent human-being towards you. Sure, you weren’t the closest, but you had a few exchanges, and you swear you caught him staring at you curiously a few times before all this Empire stuff happened. 

But, these past few days were filled with overly snarky comments, even for him. They dealt with pretty touchy subjects in your life that you had never mentioned to the batch previously because they were about painful experiences. 

For example, the other day Crosshair mentioned how the Jedi never cared about clone troopers and that they were just expendable to them. 

This got on your nerves because you believed in the exact opposite. The clones were your dearest friends and you had tried your best to treat them all as individuals. But, Crosshair didn’t know that, so you kept your mouth shut and ignored him.

This went on for some time. Crosshair would say something and you tried your best to ignore him, so far it had worked out.

One day, you just snapped.

Hunter decided a break was greatly needed. The Batch had been on mission after mission with no rest in between. Though you wanted to continue with missions, your body simply couldn’t comply. You agreed with Hunter, and a few hours later Tech landed the Marauder on a nearby forest planet. 

Wrecker was playing with Omega and Gonky. Echo was taking a well deserved nap. Tech was on his data pad, as usual. And Hunter was sharpening his knife while watching Omega and Wrecker with a smile.

All seemed well.

Well, not really, because Crosshair decided he wanted to die today. He brought up how clones were expendable, again.

“We’re just a bunch of numbers to everyone!” Crosshair shouted, you scrunched your nose in frustration.

“No, you’re not! You were to the Empire, but not to the Jedi!” Crosshair scoffed.

“Oh, so you speak for the whole Jedi order, then? Huh?” You gulped.

“Well, no. But I never saw you that way!” Crosshair folded his arms.

“Why? What’s so special about you that made you feel so bad for us? Do you pity us?” Your eyes widened.

“Of course not! I-I” You sighed. “I just relate to you I guess..” You said quieter. 

“Relate to us? You don’t know us-“ 

“I get it, I don't know you! Okay! I get it! You don’t have to keep saying that!” You fumed then stalked out of the ship. You ran past a curious Tech, a groggy Echo who was obviously annoyed, a concerned Hunter and a confused Omega and Wrecker. 

You ran out to what looked like a grove of trees. You continued to run until you found a small opening that revealed a little stream. You sat down beside it and slumped. 

Stupid Crosshair, what does he know? You sighed. It’s not his fault, you thought. It’s not like I’ve told him anyway.

Back at the Marauder.

Crosshair looked down and frowned. Di'kut, he thought to himself. He ran a hand through his silver hair and sighed. 

Someone cleared their throat. Crosshair turned to see the rest of the batch in the hall. He pursed his lips. Hunter raised a brow. 

“You know you messed up, right?” Hunter commented. 

“Well, by analyzing his heavy sighing, brooding, and self loathing, yes, yes he does know.” Tech stated matter of factly as he pushed his goggles up his nose. Crosshair frowned. 

“What does loathing mean?” Omega asked. Hunter glared at Tech. Echo facepalmed. “And what’s up with Crosshair? Why does he argue with her so much?” Omega tilted her head curiously. Crosshair just rolled his eyes. Hunter huffed and turned to the others silently asking, care to answer? 

Wrecker shrugged, Echo gave a look that said don’t look at me. Tech sighed and pushed his goggles up his nose again. 

“It’s quite obvious. Crosshair likes her.” Crosshair’s eyes widened and he ran a hand down his face.

“Is it really that obvious?” He crossed his arms and raised a brow at the crew. Everyone nodded their heads. Except Omega, she just shrugged her shoulders. Crosshair breathed a laugh. 

“Well, what do you think I should do?” He asked almost teasingly. Wrecker’s hand immediately shot up. The rest of the batch rolled their eyes.

“Ooh! Ooh! Me! Me! Pick me!” He shouted jumping up and down. Crosshair sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, Wrecker?” He pointed to him tiredly. Wrecker beamed.

“You should confess to her!” Wrecker yelled cheerfully. Omega beamed finally understanding.

“Yes! You should Crosshair!” Omega agreed, jumping happily. Wrecker picked her up and spun her around. 

“See, she gets it!” Wrecker shouted happily. Omega giggled. He put her down and ruffled her hair. Hunter chuckled at their exchange then turned to Crosshair. 

“So,” he folded his arms and raised a brow playfully. “You gonna take their advice?” Crosshair looked at him. He sighed and huffed. He rolled his eyes and looked down. Should I? He cleared his throat. 

“Fine,” he stated. Then stood straight and walked past them. Tech looked up from his data pad. 

“Wait, he’s actually going to do it?” Hunter nodded his head surprised as they watched Crosshair leave the ship. 

“Well, it’s about time,” Echo stated. Omega and Wrecker shouted happily as they started to dance around the ship. The rest of the batch laughed.

Crosshair walked out of the ship mumbling to himself. Today of all days, he thought. He wanted to confess to you sometime when he didn’t act like a total shebs' oglon. He continued to walk and found the clearing.

He spotted you just standing there, staring into a stream. Crosshair didn’t move, he mentally sighed. Gosh, what am I doing? 

“You know, I love the clones,” you said all of a sudden. Crap, she knows I’m here. Crosshair then remembered. Oh, I forgot. She’s a Jedi, she can sense people. 

“Even after Order 66, I still do,” You continued. Crosshair listened intently.

“I’ve spent countless, countless nights lying awake during the Clone War. Crying, wishing I could’ve saved so many of them. I mourned for every soldier I fought with.” You laughed sadly. “That actually goes against the Jedi Code. No attachments. But I did it anyway.” Crosshair’s eyes widened.

“I made it a priority to know each member of my battalion individually. I never wanted to know their numbers, I wanted to know what they wanted to be called. I wanted to know their names, so that for once, they could feel like a person. Not a clone, not a soldier, a person.” You finally turned to Crosshair, tears in your eyes.

“I loved them. So, I don’t care how expendable you think you are,” you paused. “Because you were never, never expendable to me.” You pointed to yourself. Crosshair's face turned to sorrow. Gosh, I did this to her. 

“I-“ Crosshair choked on his words. You frowned and turned away.

“You know why I say I relate to the clones?” You turned back to Crosshair. He looked at you and silently nodded his head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this-“ Crosshair walked up to you and gently grabbed your right hand with his left. 

“Please, I want to know. I want to know everything,” he looked down at your hand and softly rubbed his thumb along the back of it. You swallowed. 

“Okay.” Crosshair looked up at you and gave a small smile. You gave a grateful smile back.

“I never knew where I came from, I was just told I was found in a raided village. I was the only survivor,” You breathed. “The Jedi took me in, raised me….” You looked down with a frown. 

“I can’t help but think, if I wasn’t taken in by the Jedi, would I have still been one? What if a Sith found me, would I have become a Sith? Would I have been a bounty hunter? Or join the Senate? I never really had a choice. I was kind of born into it.” You looked up at Crosshair.

“That’s why I say I relate to you guys. Clones, I mean. You never had a choice, though you’re treated much harsher, I can’t help but connect with you.” Crosshair nodded his head. 

“That makes sense,” he used his right hand to grab your left. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” You looked at him and smiled gratefully.

“You don’t have to be. I just wanted you to know.”

Crosshair nodded his head and smiled a little. 

“I understand,” he swallowed then pulled away from you. He turned around and hugged himself.

“I just saw another Jedi trying to take pity on us clones, and I got angry at you, I lashed out on you and that wasn’t right,” Crosshair sighed then turned back to you, he looked down at the ground. 

“It’s just been hard. You know? Ever since the Empire stuff, I don’t really know who I am. Was it the chip? Was it me? Why did I feel obligated to serve the Empire even though they never gave me a reason to want to?” You nodded your head.

“I get it. But, I don’t think it was your fault. You’re a good man, Crosshair.” You placed a gentle hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. Crosshair blushed. You retracted your hand away awkwardly.

“Errr, sorry.” Crosshair shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” You backed away. 

“I just feel the same. I devoted my whole life to being a Jedi. Now that the Jedi order is gone, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who I should be.” Crosshair took a step forward. 

“Who do you want to be?” You looked at him, then contemplated. You smiled a little. 

“I want to be….good. I want to help people. Helping people gives me a sense of joy. I want to give that same joy to other people.” Crosshair gave a faint smile. You grinned. 

“Who do you want to be?” Crosshair breathed a laugh. 

“I want to be…. a good brother. I want to make up for all the times I treated them like bantha crap.” You giggled. 

“I’m serious,” Crosshair said with a smirk. Here goes my lame attempt at flirting. Now or never. 

“I also want to be better to you too.” You looked down and blushed. What?! 

“You already are a good brother. A great brother even. I see the way you help them. They don’t say it very often but I know for a fact that they love you very much. They never forgot about you when you left. You never left their mind for a second.” Crosshair hummed to himself. 

“Not really Omega though.” You gasped.

“What? Definitely Omega, though she didn’t know you very well, she talked about you constantly and how she believed the real you was in there somewhere.” Crosshair smiled to himself.

“She thinks you’re an amazing brother.” Crosshair smirked. Let’s take it a little further shall we? 

“And what about you?” Crosshair walked forward until he stood right in front of you. “Do you think I’m a good brother?” You gulped and looked down.

“Well….” You tucked a hair behind your ear. Dank Farrik. Crosshair chuckled. “I don’t really see you as a brother..” Crosshair leaned his face closer to yours. 

“Oh really?” Crosshair lifted Y/N’s chin so that she would look at him. This is actually working out better than I thought it would. She’s so cute when she’s flustered. 

“What do you see me as then, hmmm?” You let out a shaky breath.

“I-I” Crosshair leaned even closer, his nose brushing against yours. Oh my gosh! What is he doing?!

“C’mon, say it. What am I to you? A friend?” You looked at Crosshair. Well, meg te haran. 

“No…..” you whispered. “I see you as more than that.” Crosshair smirked. 

“Right answer.” Crosshair leaned in and placed a firm kiss on you lips. You let out a small gasp, then kissed back. Crosshair groaned and leaned back, placing a softer kiss.

Wait, is this actually happening? You thought to yourself as you felt Crosshair’s lips on yours. Am I dreaming? 

You responded with a hum of contentment and slipped your hands over his chest. Crosshair smirked and deepened the kiss as he tilted his head.

Nope, definitely not dreaming. You thought as Crosshair placed his hands on the sides of her face. He held your face then moved his hands down to hold your neck gently. You hummed again and smiled.

Crosshair slowly moved his hands down to your shoulders, down your arms until he held your waist. You smiled as Crosshair continued to kiss you with passion. You moved your arms up to Crosshair’s neck and ran your hands through his short, silver hair.

What is this girl doing to me? He moaned and gripped your waist tighter. 

After a while, Crosshair leaned back to catch his breath. You took deep breaths. He smirked and held your cheek. He rubbed his thumb along it, you looked at him with half lidded eyes. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re going to make me want to do something I’ll regret.” You smirked and leaned forward. You whispered in his ear.

“I know I won’t regret it.” Crosshair chuckled darkly and leaned in again. 

[odekiisu]

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour

I don’t know about you guys, but I have a hard time keeping the terms for various parts of clone armour straight in my mind. So, I decided to make this Guide To Armour, to make my life easier for those times I’m drawing or writing stuff and need to reference what this, that or the other piece is called, how it’s put on or taken off. (I’ve also tried to include/come up with some casual or slang terms for some parts because you cannot seriously expect these guys to use the Right Proper Terminology for everything all of the time.)

This is based on the Clone Wars cartoons, because that’s what I know best. Also, this is just the standard armour of regular troopers; if y’all want something about the possible additions/variations that you could have then lmk and I’ll see what I can put together I guess?

Note: a lot of this terminology is taken from medieval knights’ armour. Many terms are originally French; alternative names provided where possible. I did do a bit of research on medieval plate armour, which is the closest thing I can think of to clone armour, but I am by no means an expert so if you have any input or corrections feel free to @ me. Likewise, if you’ve cosplayed as a clone trooper or stormtrooper, I’d very much like to hear about your experience wearing this stuff, how it moves and how it might be similar or different to the “real thing” so to speak.

Figure 1: Clone trooper armour, front view. Kix got chosen for this because he’s a vain little bastard and loves to be painted. (ETA: this diagram now comes with a second, funnier version.)

(long post under cut)

Figure 2: Back view of armour.

According to Wookieepedia: The armour is produced on Kamino and has UV spectrum markings visible to Kaminoans. It is made of plastoid-alloy composite, and the plates are attached to the bodysuit via magnatomic gription panels. In general, Phase II armour is lighter, stronger and more ergonomic than Phase I, which has been described as heavy and uncomfortable (Wookieepedia also says that it weighs ��just under forty kilograms’ which sounds like way too much but eh, I’ll roll with it.)

Body glove/bodysuit – the stuff worn under the armour. Provides thermoregulation, some level of protection from things like blasterfire, vacuum, etc. AKA: blacks.

Helmet – The Bucket. Stuffed full of various tech: tracking device, display screen, comlink… Phase I helmets also have life support capabilities, while Phase II helmets do not, requiring an external oxygen supply*. Helmet crest contains comlink antenna. AKA: bucket, I think Rex once called them sun-bonnets, etc… this is the piece likely to have the most slang terms associated with it. Go wild.

* this is according to Wookieepedia; I’m a bit sceptical but I haven’t yet seen the episode it refers to. I headcanon that Phase II is capable of limited life support for emergency situations, but extended missions require external respirators.

Cuirass – there is some conflicting information on whether this refers to just the front chest armour or both front and back. If both, it consists of breastplate and backplate, joined at the sides and shoulders. Shoulder connections appear to be different for Phase I and Phase II: Phase I has a separate piece covering the shoulder seam, implying that it can be opened, whereas Phase II looks like it has an integrated flexible band; it may or may not be possible to disconnect. Either way, the front and back pieces must be able to separate in order to get the whole thing on.

Plackart – belly piece, wraps around the back to protect kidneys as well. Probably flexible to some extent, has been seen to slide down under belt, as demonstrated by Jesse in Figure 3. Might also have to have at least one open-able seam in it in order for troopers to get into it efficiently.

Figure 3: I have no idea how the lower edge of this isn’t stabbing him in the crotch, but *shrug*.

Spaulder/shoulder bell – also known as pauldrons irl, but that term refers to a different item this context (the pauldrons that commanders, captains and ARC troopers wear), so I feel like it might be better to differentiate between them with different terms to avoid confusion. That’s just my opinion though, you feel free to do as you wish.

Rerebrace – bicep plate. Phase I has cutouts in the back to fit pointy elbows (see below); Phase II does not.

Couter – elbow plate. Pointy elbows in Phase I, unpointy elbows in Phase II, as shown on Figure 4. In Phase I appear to be attached to vambraces in the animated version, Phase II is more mobile. I admit, I’m not a huge fan of this word, I kinda prefer elbow plates.

Figure 4: Phase I and II elbows. Am I getting way too into this that it’s gotten to the point of studying clone elbows? *shrug* who knows.

Vambrace – forearm armour. Has wrist-mounted comlink (see below).

Gauntlet plate – covers back of hand. The 212th absolutely calls these “droid-punchers”, no you cannot convince me otherwise. I think I’ve seen fanon that some troopers sharpen the front edge of this plate to do more damage when punching. Decide for yourself if plastoid alloy would do more damage to the metal of a droid’s chassis if sharpened or unsharpened (and therefore sturdier).

Codpiece/crotch plate – covers the front hip and crotch area. Possible slang term, courtesy of @mockingjay34​: cockblock

Skidplate – covers butt and back hip. A lot of troopers probably just call this piece their shebs, and once again you cannot convince me otherwise. Note that in the clone wars cartoon, Phase I armour is triangular in the back and has a sort of erm… diaper shape, in that the codpiece and skidplate are connected in the crotch (I cannot imagine that being comfortable in any situation, but then again, I have Thicc™ Thighs. Do clones have thigh gaps? Also, I would not want to get pinched by the armour joint between crotch and thigh plates).

Figure 5: Sniper Butts! (Featuring Echo and Fives in quite possibly the only comfortable position in this armour.)

In Phase II the crotch and butt pieces are separated, which sounds a lot more sensible, as well as having better butt coverage – think cheeky panties vs full briefs.

Figure 6: Hardcase kindly demonstrating the new crotch plate alongside some significant gaps in his armour… please get yourself some bigger shoulder bells my dude!

I’d imagine that, given the amount of time these guys spend fully armoured, there should be some way of conveniently opening some of this up or removing individual plates for practical reasons (and if any particular trooper wanted to use this feature for… other things, well, that’s their own business).

Cuisse/Thigh plate – covers thighs. Phase I and II have different shapes in the back to account for skidplate shape, with Phase II having significantly less coverage in the upper thigh/butt area, but I guess better range of motion.

Figure 7: Troopers Hardcase and Dogma demonstrating the Butt Cutouts, or Buttouts.

Poleyn/knee plate/knee pad – important for maintaining kneecap integrity. Like elbow plates, appears to be integrated into greaves in Phase I, but moving freely in Phase II.

Greaves – cover shins, nothing fancy.

Boots – boots. Do not appear to be armoured, are soft enough to bend your toes for walking/kneeling/whatever you need bendy toes for.

Belt pouches/boxes/compartments – A place to keep your stuff when out & about. I’m assuming this is a Pocket Substitute. Clones deserve pockets too!

Comlink – Generally four large square buttons and one smaller one (live action has more buttons). They also have comlinks in their helmets. Wookieepedia mentioned that they used wrist comms in the show so that the audience could clearly see when characters were talking to each other. Possibly used for long-range communication, whereas the ones in the buckets could be for shorter range?

Life support/those box things on their back – I have no idea what they’re actually called but these also have different designs for Phase I and II. On stormtroopers they contain a power pack and a small oxygen supply, and I guess it’s reasonable to assume that they have the same life support function for clone troopers. Also read somewhere that they have comlink scanner for long-range communication?

Thermal detonator – why would they all have bombs on their back? Seems unsafe. Also I don’t think I’ve ever seen one used? Idk. These things confuse me.

[ace-oreos]

17 and his batch mates on a mission. They are just stoked to be working together. Just some brotherly interactions. (real or OC, i love them all)

Dumb chaotic siblings is one thing I know how to do  😆

Why are there four ARCs on one mission?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Was this really fun to write? Absolutely.

@shadow-hyder Allow me to introduce you to Vortex :D 

“Figures that we get sent to this sort of osik’la planet,” Vortex grumbles, shaking mud from his boots with a look of disgust.

Fordo, for his part, doesn’t seem bothered. “What exactly were you expecting when you heard jungle, ner vod?”

Alpha keeps a determinedly straight face when Vortex rounds on Fordo. Some things never change, he thinks, both exasperated and amused. Vortex could only be described as volatile even on the best of days.

“In his defense, this place isn’t all that great,” Maze remarks, ever the voice of reason.

“Ah, don’t mind him,” Alpha chips in when Fordo looks disbelieving. “He’s been cooped up at HQ for too long. Worried he’ll ruin his hairstyle or some osik.”

He dodges the incoming clod of mud with ease. Maze can play at being the level-headed one, but old habits die hard and Alpha distinctly remembers ducking a good number of makeshift projectiles that only seemed to appear when Jango’s back was turned. 

“We’ll make it up to you,” Vortex adds. “Do you prefer your nails match your armor?” His head tilts as he considers Maze, his customary brooding expression replaced with a smirk. “Then again, I’m not sure blue’s your color.” 

It’s such a departure from his usual grave intensity that the conversation stumbles to a halt. Fordo is the first to laugh; Maze levels him with a disapproving, thin-lipped stare. Vortex, entirely unrepentant, favors Alpha with a covert smile that’s gone as soon as Maze starts to turn his head.

Maze looks ready to return fire, and while it would doubtlessly be entertaining, they still have an objective to complete. Alpha resigns himself to the good-natured grumbling that’s sure to follow and interrupts with, “Are you di’kute going to spend the whole day bickering?”

He’s not surprised to see the other three are too busy sizing each other up to bother responding. Eventually, however, Fordo backs off, declaring, “You can’t argue with Vortex.” 

Vortex’s face creases in a frown as though he’s gauging whether it’s an insult or not. Maze beats him to it, muttering, “That’s what you get for being all offense, ner vod.”

There’s too much truth in it to be an insult. Predictably, Vortex nonetheless seems prepared to take it as one. Alpha once again struggles to maintain a neutral expression - he’s confident Maze has never been on the receiving end of the full force of Vortex’s temper. One of the lucky few, he thinks, too amused to be irked by their antics.

But someone has to keep them on track, so Alpha says, “Give it a rest, you lot. If we get ambushed because you’re trying to one-up each other, I’m blaming you.”

“You would,” Fordo confirms cheerfully. “Shamelessly.” 

Alpha has no choice but to reach over and cuff him roughly for that. Vortex’s nearly imperceptible shift suggests he’s more than eager to come to his aid, but Maze chooses to step in before things can escalate. 

“He’s got a point. Let’s get moving.”

__________________________

“Y’know,” Vortex says thoughtfully with a sidelong look at Maze, “you made it sound like this place was crawling with Seps, ner vod.”

“Guilty as charged,” Fordo says through a mouthful of ration bar. He gives Maze a playful nudge that nearly sends him into the mud. It’s the best they can do, Alpha reflects ruefully. It’s deal with swamp water constantly seeping in or risk exposing themselves in a less protected area; they’d opted unanimously for the former. 

Maze sighs. “Intel - ”

“There you go, then,” Alpha says, using a stick to poke half-heartedly at the fire they haven’t managed to light in the past hour. “You rely on intel too much, Maze.” 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to try it sometime,” his brother retorts. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that when I want to get my shebs handed to me by a battalion of droids…”

“Might as well turn a blind eye,” Vortex agrees. “Don’t have much to lose.”

Fordo opens his mouth to contribute, then pauses, frowning at Vortex. “Was that a joke?”

“Everyone knows intel’s a joke.”

“Not that,” Fordo says impatiently. “The blind part - was that a joke?” 

Vortex stares at him. The look on his face is almost blank, but Alpha knows better and so has to hide a smirk. Fordo, it seems, hasn’t quite caught on yet. 

“It had to be a joke,” he insists. 

Vortex merely shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That was deliberate,” Fordo appeals to Maze.

Maze raises an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, ner vod.”

“He was joking,” Fordo is still muttering several hours later. “There’s no way - ”

“Oh, lay off already,” Alpha says through a yawn. Vortex is already asleep; Alpha can’t help feeling envious, if only because it spares him Fordo’s relentless muttering. “Besides, you know no one will believe you, right?

He’s finally almost asleep when Fordo announces to everyone within earshot, “Vortex made a joke!”

“Go to sleep!”

______________________________

“ - all I’m saying is, it wouldn’t kill you to take them head on sometimes.”

“It just might kill me in the literal sense is all. But I shouldn’t worry, because it would be a quick death.”

“Now you’re getting it. Chin up, vod - it beats death by paperwork.”

“If you ask me, that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“There’s a reason no one asked you.”

“What is wrong with the lot of you?” Alpha demands when he finally reaches the perimeter of their camp. “I can hear you from halfway across the galaxy.”

Fordo brightens. “Oh, good, you’re back.” He reaches over and hauls Alpha closer by the arm. “Settle something for us, would you?”

“I’m not agreeing to anything until I know exactly what’s going on,” Alpha says firmly. “And I hope you know how to reset a dislocated shoulder, ner vod, what with you dragging me all over.” 

“Good morning to you, too.” Fordo indicates an outline of the enemy forces sketched roughly in the dirt. “Vortex says we ought to take our chances and strike first.”

“Beats waiting for them,” Vortex opines. “They’ll get the drop on us if we hang around too long.”

“And Maze thinks we should gather more intel before we make a move,” Fordo continues, speaking over Vortex to stave off any retaliation from Maze. “Personally, I think they both have a point.”

“Well shab, good thing you aren’t indecisive,” Vortex mutters under his breath.

Fordo lifts his hands in a submissive gesture. “Someone has to be reasonable here.”

Alpha decides to observe rather than spoil the moment by relaying his findings from his latest scouting mission. He’s sure they can stand to learn a thing or two. 

Eventually, however, Maze turns to him. “What are you thinking, then?”

Alpha glances at his chrono. “Took you long enough. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.” He fixes them with the best hard stare he can muster in the circumstances. “I’ve been doing recon since oh-four-thirty - you’re welcome, by the way. So I reckon I can make your decision easier.”

“Someone inherited Kenobi’s flair for drama,” Fordo mumbles.

Alpha, utterly dumbfounded, can only glare. “I - what?” 

“Leave it to you to give us a monologue first. Makes sense, seeing as you were assigned to him for a while - ”

“You know what? Forget it,” Alpha huffs. “If you’re going to be difficult, I just won’t tell you anything. No skin off my back.”

Fordo grins. “You won’t.”

Maze sighs. “He will.”

“You’re all fair dini’la,” Vortex declares. “I’m off.”

“Where are you going?” Maze demands.

“To kill some Seps.” Vortex pushes himself to his feet, sniper rifle in hand. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Fordo stares after him. “He isn’t serious.”

It’s Alpha’s turn to sigh. “He is.”

[alderaani]

@nelba​ here’s the other half of your request! this one is from one-word-prompt list and features the 212th boys having a little bit of downtime and lots of Annoying Sibling Energy. no pairing, and prompt list linked below!

“Abilities”:

Wooley crossed his feet in front of him and sighed as he checked the label on his ration bar. According to the COMOs there was a blockade near one of the hyperspace lanes stopping any supplies coming through, but knowing the reason for it didn’t make eating ‘Bantha Stew’ for the sixth rotation in a row any easier. It hadn’t been so bad before he’d known what the real thing was supposed to taste like, but now he couldn’t quite look past the artificial tang that always sat in the back of his throat.

“Oi, Gearshift?” he called out, squinting against the bright Rylothi sun to where his vod was lazing in the shadow of a ruined wall a scant meter away, his bucket propped up on a brick next to him.

Gearshift twitched a little but didn’t respond. Wooley waited for several courteous seconds, then sighed again when his ori’vod carried on lying there.

“’Shift?” Still nothing. “Shift.”

When Gearshift just grunted and snuffled a bit, Wooley rolled his eyes.

“Hey, utreekov!”

“Kriffin’ hells, what?” Gearshift lifted his elbow just enough to glare at him.

“You got any ration bars that aren’t bantha flavoured?”

Gearshift groaned. “Did you seriously wake me up just to ask that?”

Wooley nudged him with his foot. “Well? Do you?”

Gearshift let his arm fall to the ground and shuffled onto his side, sitting up with a curse that would have made Wooley blush less than a year ago. Becoming a prisoner of war had beaten a lot of things out of him, though, so when his ori’vod glared at him he just stared back expectantly.

“And why would I just give it to you if I did?”

“Because I saved your shebs out there today?”

Gearshift spluttered, suddenly looking far more awake. “The kriff you did. Longshot, you hearin’ this osik?”

He drove his elbow into the brother next to him as he spoke and Longshot grunted, his voice muffled by his bed roll.

“I’m trying not to. Either give him the ration bar or tell him to shut up, we’ve only got three hours until the shift change, and if you two keep me awake you won’t live that long.”

United for a second, Wooley exchanged an amused look with ‘Shift over their vod’s head. Then ‘Shift got a devious look on his face that Wooley instantly knew was bad news.

“I’ll tell you what, Wooley. You think you’re so good, prove it. See that droid head over there? You outshoot Longshot and I’ll give you my ration bar.”

Both Wooley and Longshot groaned in unison, Wooley out of pure despair. Longshot’s name was not interpretive or ironic – it really did mean what it said on the tin. How in Sith-hells was he supposed to outshoot Ghost Company’s best sniper?

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Longshot growled, flipping onto his back and squinting angrily into the late afternoon sunshine. “What part of I will end you didn’t sink in?”

Gearshift just grinned smugly. “If you don’t think you can manage it, just say so. We’re all brothers here, right?”

There was a momentary pause before Longshot was sitting up, throwing a fist into Gearshift’s gut as he did so.

“Maybe next time I’m on covering fire I’ll just let the droids shoot you,” he grumbled, knuckling at his eyes. “What are we aiming for?”

“Hey,” Wooley cut in nervously. “I never actually agreed to this.”

“Aw kid, you’re not gonna back out now, are you?”

Wooley wilted at the new voice, turning his head to see Boil and Waxer’s heads poking up from the other side of the rubble he’d been leaning on. Waxer at least looked a little sympathetic, but amusement far outweighed that as Longshot started stretching his arms out, yawning grumpily the whole time.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered, glaring at Gearshift. “That ration bar better be good.”

Gearshift’s smile was all teeth, his voice still slightly breathless after Longshot’s hit. “Oh, it is, vod’ika.”

Boil got to his feet and meandered over to the smoking pile of droid remains that they’d gathered in the main square of Nabat, finding the droid head that ‘Shift had chosen and sticking it upright in the dirt. Its little dull eyes felt like they were staring at Wooley as he fidgeted restlessly and the others discussed terms.

As Boil came back Wooley started getting into position. They’d decided on using their standard DC-17s so that they were on a level playing field, so he checked the safety and the ammo, his body settling into a long-conditioned rhythm. Then Boil swore, and Wooley looked up in time to see an armoured leg retract behind another pile of rubble as Boil flailed.

Commander Cody sat up slowly, plunging the rest of them into immediate silence. Wooley froze in the act of sighting his weapon, feeling more than hearing the others do the same. Waking their ori’vod was about as dangerous as kicking a nest of gundarks.

“Explain,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep and drier than the deserts of Jakku.

“Just a friendly bit of competition, sir! Sorry, sir.”

Cody lifted up the lip of his bucket long enough to squint between the droid head and Wooley’s half-drawn blaster. There was a pause as he inevitably calculated the risks involved and whether he could be arsed to do anything about then. Eventually he just shook his head and took his bucket off, clambering to his feet and yawning with enough force that his jaw cracked.

He came to stand in front of them at parade rest, looking exactly like he did at the start of briefings. Wooley had started to get a very bad feeling about this.

“Alright men, lay out the stakes for me. If we’re going to measure your abilities we’re going to do it properly…”

(When it turns out that Gearshift’s ration bar is also Bantha Stew flavour, half an hour, one broken blaster and two lots of latrine duty later, Wooley throws it in his face. 

It’s a dead shot. 

His brother deserves it.)

[jacensolodjo]

In which hurt/comfort doesn’t quite have the comfort. Warnings for medical stuff but nothing graphic.

Jaster was scouting the perimeter in the liminal space time of dawn. His rifle was nestled in his arms like a newborn, his head constantly on a swivel. His fellow scout was around 100 paces off to his left. They always worked in pairs, if not three at a time. As much for safety as being efficient.

Seventeen was still at base camp, looking over maps of the area and where their enemies had been reported as being. Jaster was due to check in soon, and Seventeen found himself a little antsy. Dawn and dusk were perfect times for ambushes, mainly because of how blinding the sun could be. Another sergeant from another unit had offered to take Jaster's place but the Alpha had been unable to accept the trade.

"Sector 120 mark 34 is clear," Jaster reported, jerking 17 out of his reverie.

"Alright, head to the next grid on your right," Seventeen answered.

"Copy, wilco."

He gave the signal to the other ARC he found to be slightly annoying in questioning everything. Which made it surprising that he gave a nod then swiveled to head to the next grid. Jaster did the same, keeping an eye out for booby traps.

Jaster heard the heavy thunk of something moving fast and strong only to slam into the ground. Another slammed in the ground a mere couple inches from his foot. Both ARCs quickly pulled up rifles and scoped the area.

"Shriekhawk to base. Shriekhawk to base. We are under attack, possible sniper. We need backup immediately. Repeat: poss--" Jaster spoke into the radio but was cut off by a sudden, hard hit to his left chest, just under his pectoral. It was almost comical to see his legs fly out from under him and send him flat on his back, gasping and wheezing for air.

"Sergeant? Sarge!" His scout partner shouted, rushing over but doing his best to stay in cover. "Front to back or back to front?"

"No exit. Front," Jaster rasped.

"Shriekhawk, come in we didn't fully catch that last bit. You said you are under fire?" The base comms officer said, barely getting through past the blood pulsing in Jaster's ears.

"'Lek! Need... backup! More pressure, Storm!" Jaster grunted, then yelled out as Storm did as asked.

Seventeen nearly tripped over his own feet as he practically flew out of his quarters, sans Kama.

"Base to Shriekhawk, reinforcements incoming!" Seventen barked while gesturing to every trooper he passed to follow him.

"Sev? No, Sev. Unknown assailants!" Jaster gasped out. Seventeen was the highest ranking ARC on this mission, and thus the commanding officer and important to keep alive. 

"Shut up I'm on the way!"

Seventeen swapped to his helmet external speakers.

"Listen up, scouts haven't cleared all the grids we are heading to. Unknown number of Tangos and unknown about any long range action. We have one vod down and another possibly. Let's do it quick and do it neat. No one is dying today! If you do I will kick your shebs from here to Tatooine!"

"Sir, yes sir!" The random collection of troopers barked in unison.

Jaster groaned and gasped as Storm struggled to keep his grip. Storm mumbled apologies as he pressed harder to staunch the blood flow best he could until backup arrived.

It didn’t take much time for Seventeen and at least a platoon of troopers to arrive, ready for anything (or so they’d claim).

"What the shab happened?!" Seventeen demanded, going into a slide as he rushed to Jaster's side. He looked over the injury then growled.

"I-I don’t know, sir! We were clearing the grid and then he suddenly went down!" Storm said, sounding more panicked than he should be but that was likely a side effect of talking to someone like Seventeen.

"Two... two missed shots," Jaster stammered. "By the time I realized it wasn't an indigenous animal I got hit."

"Alright, get him up. We need him back at base. Keep pressure on it. We are not losing him to exsanguination."

Seventeen and Storm worked together to pick Jaster up by legs and torso. Jaster snarled in pain and made Storm wince at the sound. 

“The rest of you, finish the gridwork and find me that shooter! Keep ‘em alive if you can cause I call dibs on their life!” Seventeen ordered as he started to run from the area. 

“Yes, sir! You heard him, let’s move. Low and slow!” one of the corporals ordered. 

Jaster groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head and his neck going limp.

“Jaster? Jaster?! Jas! Wake up, Jas!” Seventeen demanded, lightly shaking the man’s torso. Jaster groaned and mumbled incoherently. “Shab!”

Seventeen and Storm skidded to a halt at the closest pre-fab building. Seventeen kicked the door in like a mule and kept moving. It wasn’t a barracks so Seventeen had no choice but to lay Jaster down on a table. He quickly yanked off Jaster’s helmet and dropped it to the floor. He lightly smacked Jaster’s cheek.

“Jaster, wake up! C’mon Jaster, that’s an order! Open your kriffing eyes!” 

“I should go get a medic--” Storm began to say.

“Yes, fine! Go!” Seventeen snapped. Storm ran full tilt out of the pre-fab.

“Jaster, wake up you di’kutla shabuir!”

If it had been anyone else it was unlikely Seventeen would be trying so hard to revive the other Alpha. As it was he began to unhook and fling plates off of the man and slice through the body glove underneath. He had finally exposed the gunshot wound when the medic appeared, the medical corps insignia bright on his armor. 

“How many?” the medic, Tarik, asked as he rummaged for the bacta spray. 

“Just the one. Non-laser, physical projectile,” Storm explained, making Tarik pause.

The medic gave a deep sigh as he put the bacta down and went rummaging back in his kit for the right tools. He removed some gauze in the process, handing them over to Storm. Seventeen nudged the younger trooper out of the way and put pressure against Jaster’s chest with the gauze. Storm blinked in surprise but said nothing, likely a wise choice.

“Alright, release pressure I need into that wound,” Tarik said. Seventeen delayed a moment on doing as asked but he did it, taking the gauze with him. 

“Wait! Aren’t you going to use a pain med or knock him out?” Storm asked.

“No, I don’t need it!” Jaster gasped out then groaned. 

“Jaster, this is not the best time for you to be Mr. Stubborn,” Seventeen said, frowning.

“Ha... hah. You’re one to talk, Sev!” Jaster said, laughing weakly then wincing. The only thing Seventeen ever accepted was the bacta spray for healing, nothing to numb the pain. 

Seventeen watched closely as Tarik performed a bulletectomy, fishing the metal out of Jaster’s chest which had been way too close to his heart for anyone’s comfort. 

"You shouldn't even have been out there! You're a drill sergeant!" Seventeen said, anger tinging his voice.

"Sir, I apologize but you need to leave. I still have to give him bacta and apply bandaging and his BP is too high with you yelling at him," Tarik said, not caring about Seventeen's reputation.

"Like haran I'm going anywhere!" Seventeen snarled.

"Sev, go! I'll be fine!" Jaster said, reaching out shakily to barely touch Seventeen's wrist, out of sight of the medic.

"Fine. He better be fixed and ready to report to reveille tomorrow," Seventeen said, kicking the wall on his way out.

“I guess the scuttlebutt was true,” Tarik mumbled mostly to himself.

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a shabuir but he means well. For the most part. He’s not much of a people person but he’ll sacrifice himself for a vod if he has to,” Jaster mumbled as Tarik began to sew up the wound and apply bacta. 

“Alright, you’re good. Let’s get you to a real bed,” Tarik said, gently helping Jaster to sit up then get to his feet. Slowly they walked to the barracks where Jaster easily found his bunk and carefully lied down on it. It was hard to lie on his back given he was a side sleeper but he had to to protect his front.

“How many fragments?” Jaster rasped. 

“Uhm, three. It wasn’t a hollow, sir,” Tarik said. “Or a very big caliber. Any bigger and...”

“I know.” 

“It would’ve been easier with plasma based. Self-cauterizing.”

“I know.” 

Tarik fell silent, glancing away. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours to change the bandaging. Get some rest.”

“Yeah.”

Jaster found it relatively difficult to fall asleep, mad at himself for getting hit. And the old adage was true about medical personnel making the worst patients. At least Seventeen seemed more concerned than expected. 

When he woke it was to feeling a weight on the bunk and something--or someone-- touching his hand. He slowly opened his eyes then looked over to see Seventeen, sitting directly on the floor and leaning over onto the bunk with his hand covering Jaster’s. It was one of the gentlest, physical things he had ever had Seventeen do. He almost wished he could get a picture. 

“Ven?” Jaster whispered, hoarse. It was enough to wake the relatively light sleeper and Seventeen jerked upright.

“Jas! About kriffing time. You slept right through your bandage change. Was afraid I’d have to call in for a replacement sergeant,” Seventeen said. 

Jaster gave a chuckle then softly swore right after. 

“Whoa, hey. If you bleed out on this bed you buy it,” Seventeen faux scolded. 

"You're not concerned about people seeing you here?"

"I threatened the medic with court martial if he breathed so much as a syllable."

"Ven... court martials don't exist for us."

It was hard not to remember how execution was the main punishment for infractions against the GAR or the Republic itself.

"He doesn't have to know that," Seventeen waved his hand dismissively.

Jaster carefully sat up with a long groan of pain. He then glanced down at his chest and sighed at the large stain of blood.

"When did Tarik come in?"

"Who?"

"The medic, who else?"

"Right. Hm, an hour ago?"

"Kriff me. Uh, get me some gauze and more bacta."

Seventeen frowned but did as asked. Jaster suddenly realized the man was in his BDUs compared to his armor. Jaster didn't have to wait long for his supplies.

He carefully peeled off the blood soaked bandage and tossed it into the trash nearby. He fumbled with the bacta spray in his right hand, being predominantly left handed which even though it was a chest wound there was some pulling of muscle and skin by moving his left arm. But for some things he was ambidextrous.

"Stop. Stop! Give me that!" Seventeen snapped, rolling his eyes. He snatched the spray cylinder away then sprayed a perfect layer on the wound itself and a good few centimeters further out from it just to be sure.

“I had it,” Jaster argued.

“Shut up,” Seventeen muttered as he began to open the packs of gauze and apply them to Jaster’s chest, pressing down rather gingerly (for Seventeen). 

“...You’re mad at me,” Jaster said quietly, looking to a wall nearby. 

“Yes, I’m mad at you. I told you to get someone else to do it!” 

“Ven, I don’t need or want special treatment. I need to do my part. At least I had backup.” 

Seventeen frowned, understanding immediately what Jaster was referring to. He then shrugged. 

“So next time I’ll just make it an order.”

“Hah. Good luck, ner cyar’ika.”

Seventeen laughed before leaning in to tap his forehead to Jaster’s in a clear keldabe kiss sans helmet. 

[kriffingunlucky]

I’m a greedy mf, so I’m going to ask you to make it me and not a reader, also I wanna be famous. You know me well, I’m yo kriffing sister so you kriffing better. Can you write me as a medic with The Bad Batch on a mission, and my whole day (basically my every day) is just literally a load of oisk, and I get a group hug from Clone Force 99 ??? Show your love to your chakaar of a younger sister 👁👄👁 please. 🤟🏼

Okay you sheb- here. Your ask was so huge in my box it was stressful. I legitimately threw you into the mix of chaos. You’re welcome.

side note: i will not be doing this for anyone else. Sorry! I only do this for my stupid, but very loved, little sis. :) that’s why I make readers. But you can add attributes of your personality into the request! Like you can say “could I have a Crosshair x energetic! reader where they blah blah blah” and I’ll get to it!

--------

Hunter woke up to lots of noise in the kitchen area of the Havoc Marauder, not really knowing what was going on, he got out of bed to check. It seemed rather early for Crosshair to be yelling at Tech for stealing his favorite kind of tea, and Wrecker is always loud, but this early?

He just wasn’t sure.

Strolling into the kitchen he stops dead in his tracks, eyes narrowed and head jotted forward, confusion clear on his features at the sight before him.

Wrecker was chugging down the whole kriffing pot of steaming hot kaff, Kaitlyn standing on the counter chanting for him to continue chugging it down. Crosshair whispering into Tech’s ear about something while he was cooking some food for breakfast, he was assuming they were betting, because Tech had laid credits on the counter.

Finishing off the whole pot Wrecker yells, pumping his arms into the air, the redheaded girl following suit. Both cheering in deep, booming voices.

“What the hell are you doing at 5am?”

They all look at Hunter, some with eyes wide and others with knowing faces. Crosshair smirked and took the credits off of the counter, sliding them into the small case on his belt, leaning over and talking lowly in Tech’s ear.

“Told you he’d come in here before they started their victory round of kaff.”

Kaitlyn hops off of the counter top, glancing at Wrecker then back at Hunter, her smile growing. “Sorry we woke you up, but, on the bright side, Wrecker drank all of the kaff in less than a minuet!”

“How, exactly, is that the bright side?” He sighs, rubbing his face.

This is how I’ll go grey.

He sat down on a stool, and looked wearily at the two men by the stove. “Why didn’t you two put a stop to this?”

“I would never turn down a chance to beat him in a bet.” The sniper shrugs, Tech just not responding.

Hunter lets his head fall onto the counter.

Why had he taken in this insane technician?? It was like dealing with a smaller, female, Wrecker. She was quite tall, taller then Tech and rivaling his own height. Her red hair short and gelled up, freckles adorning her face and body, but she wasn’t just tall. She was also a hell of a fighter. Maybe that’s why he let her come aboard, so he knew the ship would be defended while they were away.

Or maybe because Wrecker liked her so much he couldn’t bare to deny his new best friend a job.

She plopped on the stool beside him, singing some random song she’d heard on the radio. She always has the oddest music playing while she works. Claiming it helps her focus, he doubts that, because it’s always playing an extremely distracting song. So horribly catchy and singable.

Crosshair makes plates of food for his vode, sliding it to them and then eyes landing on Kaitlyn. “What do you want?”

“Umm, can I have pancakes, eggs and bacon? Or that meat? Or could I have both? Would that be too terrible of me?”

The silver haired sniper looks at her for a moment, confusion in his eyes. “You can have both kinds of meat. Yes. What do you want on your pancakes?”

“Can I have pancake and syrup?”

“Uh, yeah? You can have a pancake?” He tries to reason out loud, but his mind couldn’t come to a conclusion as to why she felt it necessary to specify that. Of course he would give her a pancake if he asked what ? Maybe she was asking for two? But why wouldn’t she just flat out say that?

She is usually blunt enough for that.

 But silencing his mind, he just gives her the food.

In which she thanks him and digs in.

---

At the end of the day, Kaitlyn and Wrecker were sprawled on the floor. Covered in blankets and pillows, watching a cartoon she suggested. She called it SpongeBob, or something. Whatever it was, it was making Wrecker laugh.

And that sound attracted the rest of the Bad Batch.

Weather they liked it or not, they all slowly got sucked into watching the entrancing little yellow sponge with dapper pants run around doing things with his starfish best friend.

Tech was the first to sit with the both of them, him sitting beside Kaitlyn and using her back as a pillow for his head, seeing as she was laying on her stomach. Then Crosshair came, watching from the back, not joining the cuddle pile. But Hunter did. He sat in between Kaitlyn and Wrecker, enjoying using his larger vod as a pillow and the redhead playing with his hair. Instead of her playing with the edge of the blanket.

Crosshair, eventually, came and sat down near Wrecker. But within seconds the large dork had pulled him closer, cuddling him to no end. And surprisingly, the man didn’t resist it this time. Eyes falling closed and him snoozing. Not even watching the show that his brother and mini me had come to love.

[dingoat]

The Right Way | Part Ten

[ previous | the beginning | next ]

In the timeline where Crow turned right, he followed Lyrisal, his Captain, as they found themselves crossing paths repeatedly with an infuriatingly talented and persistent Imperial Agent. Again and again, their objectives would bring them into proximity, troops crossing troops, skirmishes at a distance that would only ever put a temporary halt to one or the other side’s missions, but never enough to clean up the opposing force completely.

The longer it went on, the more Lyrisal found herself actually appreciating the Agent’s tactics, relishing every opportunity that came up to try and hunt them down and best them at their own game. Crow delighted in backing his Captain, more loyal to her than to Republic law, and on the dance went, across star systems from the core to the outer rim.

And Nines, oh, oh now Nines adored the attention from that very talented Republic Company that kept getting in her way.

---

In the timeline where Crow turned left, Mar’an whooped with delight as he shot down his seventeeth IB-15 class Threskiorn fighter that morning alone. “You see that one, Hus’ika!? On your six… tell me if it knocks out one of the power units, ha!!”

Darting through the winding streets of the industrial sector that the fighting had managed to stay confined to, with her trusty anooba baying at her heels, Ahuska’a laughed over the comm with the clanmate who truly was the light of her life. She’d grown strong and able, lithe and sure on her feet, keeping pace with her animals as they sought out Threskiorn snipers and saboteurs to hamstring and tear their skinny little throats out.

The battle raged on, and was clearly tipping in the favour of the Mandalorian mercenary units who fought on behalf of Vohai.

Mar’an was the first to see it.

A massive and terrifying walker, something so unlike anything the Threskiorn forces had sent their way so far not a soldier on the ground or in the air had expected it until it was too late. A tank like thing on six legs, it crashed through the city streets like a nerf through a maize field, and was headed, Mar’an realised with a cold, sudden shock, toward the power processing facility. In particular, the huge duracrete towers that housed the raw, volatile substance that the plant refined into a workable material. Anyone not killed immediately in the oncoming blast would surely suffer cruelly in the aftermath.

“Ga’ihlr gold! All units- the walker! Gun it down, take that shabuire down, whatever it takes!” Mar’an roared to his squadron.

The ships turned together and swooped around the walker, peppering it with blasts that didn’t seem to make a lick of difference to its movement.

“Together! Prime your heat beams, all at once on the aft offside leg…!” he switched tactic, and the coordinated effort managed to burn through the joint of the walker’s leg after a few long minutes of relentless assault. But with five legs still functioning, it carried on as though nothing had happened.

“Again, the next one-- osik!” Mar’an hollered and cursed as a heavy bolt thudded against the side of his ship. The Threskiorn fighters were retaliating, screaming in to drive off the mercenaries. “NAYC. NAYC! We need more units! Get your shebs over here, Aliit Adenn, Kyramla, we need a hand with this shab’la thing!”

But despite their best efforts, the Threskiorn fighters pressed too hard, and it was simply impossible to group together long enough to take out the walker’s legs one by one. Onward the great vehicle lumbered, fences bending to its feet like blades of grass to a nerf’s hoof.

“It’s gonna hit the power silos! There’s no time—everyone out! Fly, shabuire, ground troops retreat!” the call came over the mercenary’s collective frequency, and one by one ships peeled off into the sky.

“C’mon Gold, let’s move.” Mar’an’s tone was bitter with resignation, and tight with something else. He lead the way with his fighter, dodging beams from the IB-15 ships, but his heart wasn’t with his squadron. It was on the ground, tracking the little blips on his scanner that indicated the position of Ahuska’a and her dogs. She was too close to the factory. Far too close.

Mar’an Ga’ihlr flew on until he was certain his squadron was accounted for, all safely on course, and then he drew a heavy breath, tipping his fighter and wheeling back toward the battlefield. His fingers danced across the controls, pushing the system well and truly beyond safe levels of heat. A flick of a switch set his comm to broadcast across the communal line.

“The kriff is that?”

“Sounds like Mar’an.”

“What’s that shabuir doing—“

Ahuska’a knew immediately; she recognized his voice and his words and the bouncing tune in a heartbeat. It was one of their favourites. “He’s singing,” she laughed. “Why the shab are you-“ she looked into the sky and froze, her body going cold. “Mar’an. Don’t.”

But he did. “He said ‘one day, you’ll leave this world behind!’” Mar’an crowed out over the mercenaries’ comms, bellowing the tune for all to hear, but in his heart it was just for one set of ears. “So live a life you will remember…!”

“TURN AROUND! TURN THE SHAB AROUND OR SO HELP ME…!!” Ahuska’a tore off her helmet as she screamed into her holocomm, forcing him to see her face from his cockpit as she howled and raged, tears streaking her cheeks. “DON’T YOU DARE! Don’t you KRIFFING DARE LEAVE ME ALONE OUT HERE…!!”

“…ni kar’tayli gar darasuum, Hus’ika. These are the nights that never di—“

* * *

* * *

A whooping cheer went out amongst the soldiers who only saw the explosion and the buckling of the walker as it slowly toppled harmlessly into the street where it stood.

Those who knew Mar’an and recognised his sacrifice paused in silence.

And Ahuska’a shrieked with bloody grief and fury, turning every ounce of rage she had toward the alien vermin that scuttled through the streets, a rage that would not ease for many long nights to come.

---

In the timeline where Crow turned right, he dreamed of his death. The details were hazy, but he understood the circumstances well enough. And so convinced was he that he had dreamed true, so certain was he of the circumstances of his eventual demise, that the young Republic soldier exhibited reckless behaviour beyond the scope of anything his Captain had ever seen. Nothing could shake him, as he faced horrifying odds again and again, confident every time that he would walk away… and walk away, he always did.

‘The Man Who Refused To Die’; that was what Republic and Imperial troops alike began to call Mar’an Crow.

Lyrisal would sometimes comment that the Force was truly with him; Crow would shrug it off every time he seemingly cheated death. “This just ain’t how it happens.”

So it was no surprise, when Lyrisal, Crow and Nines finally came face to face for the first time, that Crow simply marched up to the Chiss with his blaster blazing, not even making an attempt to doge the bolts that went searing past him, trusting completely that he wouldn’t be hit.

If anyone but Lyrisal had been watching, they might have been stunned to see the the Republic Private and Imperial Agent embrace when they met each other in the middle of the corridor. If anyone but Lyrisal had been Crow’s Captain, they might have turned down the message he brought back to her.

Agent Ninety-Nine did not request a surrender. She asked if Lyrisal might join her for dinner.

---

“Just leave. Tonight. Come away with me,” Kassandra pleaded yet again, as she fell breathless onto her back beside Lyrisal, in the timeline where Crow turned left.

“Seven more years of service and I can resign without a mark against me…”

“Seven years! Seven YEARS! Who wants to wait seven years? Come away tonight, Lyrisal. Leave them, and you won’t have their red tape get in your way ever again.” They’d had this discussion hundreds of times, and Kassandra knew that her partner’s resolve was flagging.

“Except I’ll be classed as a deserter. I’ll be a fugitive.”

“…and?” Kassandra turned her brilliant red eyes to Lyrisal, wide and somehow achingly innocent.

“Don’t give me those,” the Captain murmured, turning back toward her, and she knew at that moment her mind was made up. “Tomorrow,” she whispered against the Chiss’ neck. “Let me have one more night as a woman without a mark on her head.”

*

The next day, as promised, Lyrisal prepared herself for a discreet exit from the barracks to which she never intended to return. She spent a little time gathering up a few of her more personal possessions, only enough for a single pack, and took one last walk along the hallways that she knew so well. But now was not the time for nostalgia; sooner than she expected she found herself turning back to her quarters, where she began pulling off her armour.

There was no way she’d be able to bring herself to wear it once she’d walked out those doors.

She was down to just her shin plates, one leg up on her bunk as she undid the straps, when she heard the steps behind her.

“Captain?”

“Falkes!” Lyrisal felt her heart stutter, but she tried to keep her tone light and even. “Ready for drills this afternoon?”

“Always, sir. But… are you?”

His tone filled her with dread. “I have business at the station today.”

“Yes. You and your business. Captain, I’ve been concerned about you…”

“Needlessly, I’m sure.”

“You don’t usually pack that way when you visit the station to bail out your little blue friend,” Falkes’ voice had a steely edge.

Had he been into her quarters? “Lieutenant. You overstep yourself.”

“No, Captain. I know what you’re doing, and I… I can’t allow it. This is a mistake.”

“Please stand aside, Falkes.” Lyrisal turned, a single plate still clinging to her left leg. “I don’t want to ask you again. You’re not one to disobey a superior…”

“No, I’m not. And it’s not my rank that’s changed, is it?”

Lyrisal gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes, deciding quickly that Falkes wouldn’t have the nerve to actually get in her way if she simply tried to walk out. Squaring her shoulders, the tall woman shouldered her pack and began to stride through her quarters, looking past her Leiutenant’s shoulders as she made for the door.

He waited until she’d gone three paces past him before trying to reason one last time. “Captain,” there was a quaver in his voice now. “Please. Stop this. The Republic needs you. Don’t betray everything you ever fought for.”

She kept walking.

“Lyrisal… I can’t let you…”

She only made it a step further before he fired. She heard the bolt, and that was all.

---

Lyrisal clasped her hand around Crow’s arm and offered him a priceless gift; one of her oh so fleeting smiles. “Are you with me?”

His ceaseless grin flashed her way as he nodded. “Always.”

In the timeline where Crow turned right, he was there right alongside Lyrisal as she finally stepped away from the Republic Army, tired of the bureaucracy, tired of the regulations, tired of the endless wars that never seemed to bring about any meaningful change to the Galaxy. Half of her Company followed behind them, as did half of Nines’ closer Imperial associates with her. Nothing stood in their way.

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

Arrrrggghhhhh okay that one hurt my heart a little to write. As ever my endless thanks to @humanrevolt for letting me play with Crow, Nines and Lyrisal and letting me butcher their backstories in the timeline where Crow went the wrong way. Pretty sure I’m well past the halfway point with this now, I still can’t believe what a long project this has wound up being. But once I started mulling over it all in my head I realised there was so much to tell!

[jacensolodjo]

Pairing: N/A Characters: Sheres, Hyran, Cyclo, Nas Warning: gore Genre: Action Summary: One of the missions for T’ad Squad, with the after action interactions to go along with it. Notes: Only a month or so after the Defense of Kamino.

“We could always call in a fire for effect,” Nas said after he had slid back down the small hill overlooking their objective. An objective that normally would have been attacked by a company of troopers, instead of four Alpha ARCs. 

Cyclo shook his head at his younger brother. It would have caused an endless barrage of ridicule later, and he wasn’t willing to risk that kind of thing after they had already missed a good amount of the war. 

Sheres was about a kilometer away with Hyran, but they of course could hear what Cyclo and Nas were talking about over their private comms. Sheres had been watching a specific man who was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t in charge. In most cases, Sheres would have needed to ask his captain for permission to open fire. But this mission he had been told to use his best judgment. For the past standard day he had been watching and waiting, learning the man’s schedule. He still did not want to fire without talking it over with everyone, though.

“If I take out the guy in charge they will be in chaos. If you flank them from a blind spot we could make them believe there are more of us than there really are,” Sheres suggested. Anything to avoid firing for effect as a smokescreen. If they were going to call in air support, it would be for anything but effect. 

“Definitely the best idea we’ve got so far,” Hyran admitted, watching the commanding officer through his binocs. No one believed it was just two snipers sticking together. 

There was silence before Cyclo gave a low grunt. He climbed to his feet and made a discrete motion to Nas. They moved along, hidden by the hill, in order for them to be essentially opposite of Hyran and Sheres. 

“Alright, then. On my mark,” Cyclo rumbled, that rasp so close to being like Jango’s except not. They all knew each other so well, Cyclo knew what Sheres was looking for that he didn't actually need: a go-ahead from his captain. “Cleared for weapons hot.” If he hadn’t seen the light stream from his rifle, or the burst of pink mist from the enemy, Sheres would’ve thought he hadn’t fired as there was no audible retort from his rifle. 

He watched through the scope as Cyclo and Nas used the reaction to the commanding officer's death to storm the building. Hyran and Sheres covered from their spot on the hill. Hyran’s rifle wasn’t near as red-hot as Sheres’s by the time Cyclo had called for a halt, but there was no real rivalry between them given Hyran’s role was slightly different from his brother’s. And besides, a mission complete affected their squad as a whole. The only rivalry was playful.

By the time they caught up with Cyclo and Nas, the body count stood in the mid double-digits, half of them thanks to the snipers the other half from the assault ‘team’.

Just as Cyclo was passing one of the bodies that Nas had shot earlier, it moved. Sheres reacted a split second later, firing twice. The body jerked, fresh blood exploding from its torso, then stilled for good. Sheres kicked him anyways to roll him onto his back. Cyclo stared at his savior-brother impassively then gave a slight nod. 

Nas was found in a room, actively hacking into one of the systems there. Sheres noticed a gash scored deep into Nas’s armored bicep and instantly moved in closer to check it over while his brother kept his attention on what he was doing. No words were exchanged as Sheres removed the plates necessary to check in on the wound. Nas almost didn’t seem to realize he was wounded, he was so focused on his task. Nas had always been the better at such things anyways, Sheres building while Nas tested his custom made systems.

The wound was mostly superficial and Sheres quickly wrapped it before patting the opposing shoulder. 

“You know the drill,” Sheres said.

“Yeah, yeah, try not to move it too much for a couple days and try to put on fresh bandaging every 6 hours,” Nas said, sounding as distracted as Sheres knew him to be. The sniper snorted then nodded before wandering off. With Hyran holding ‘guard’ duty over Nas, Cyclo and Sheres went off to sweep the rest of the rooms. 

Cyclo called out from the end of the last hallway, and Sheres quickly joined him in time to kick back a thermal detonator that had been thrown into the hallway after Cyclo had called for backup. It detonated a split second later, followed by a scream that Sheres didn’t hear as his helmet had instantly protected him from outside noises. When the two ARCs looked into the room, there were enough torsos and limbs to account for three people. An arm that could have been the one that had thrown the detonator in the first place lay on a windowsill. Sheres sighed and shook his head before clearing the room, making sure there would be no more surprises.

“I’m done. I’ve got everything,” Nas said, business as usual. Cyclo and Sheres rejoined their other brothers. 

“We might as well stay here for the night, I don’t see a point in trying to get to the LZ in the dark,” Hyran said after looking out a window nearby. 

Sheres had gone to find the officer he had killed but was patched in to their unit comms. When he did, he took the man’s comm system before returning to his brothers in the room they had decided for the HQ. Sheres took his helmet off then handed the communicator to Nas.

“The CO I took out had this, can you get the codecs and see if there are any more of these aruetiise out there?”

“Is that a legit question?” Nas asked, even as he was moving to do so. Sheres shrugged his shoulders by way of answer. 

Cyclo laughed softly before ruffling Sheres’s hair. He then lightly bumped his forehead to Sheres’s, making the sniper chuckle despite himself. 

“Let’s get a defense perimeter set up.”

Cyclo moved to set up trip wires along the landings of the staircases leading to the second floor they’d cleared and decided to camp out on. Hyran and Sheres set up the remote cameras at the doorways of the building itself, every single one they could find. They would not have their own tactics used against them later which meant they would not walk the perimeter like the commanding officer Sheres had shot had done. And with their armor customized the way it was, their flashes of color could not give them away. Nas stayed where he was so he could check each feed as they went. 

“You may want to double check the third one,” Nas said after he tried a couple of commands to reset it from where he was. Hyran broke off from Sheres in order to do so and Sheres set up the final camera. He checked it over himself multiple times while Nas and Hyran troubleshot the other camera. Once satisfied, Sheres linked back up with Cyclo, careful of the tripwires that had been set. 

“All the cameras are set up,” Sheres reported before he dragged the last enemy body from the room so they wouldn’t have to put up with the decomposition of the dead bodies overnight. Nas had gone to find Hyran after their attempts to fix the camera had failed.

“Jate, I sent in an extraction request for tomorrow morning local time. Everything looks secure for now,” Cyclo explained after taking his helmet off again. He set it down next to Sheres’s on the table he had found earlier while they waited for their other vode to join them. 

Sheres set up his bedroll quickly, removed the minimum amount of armor plating from his body, then settled down into his bedroll even though he was still a little wired from the adrenaline burst. Cyclo was setting up his own bedroll when Nas and Hyran finally joined them again, laughing about something.

“We extract tomorrow,” Sheres interrupted them. 

“We’ll want to get new cameras next mission, I think Hyran sat on his,” Nas said once their laughter had faded. He threw his helmet at Hyran who threw it back. 

“My shebs never touched those cameras!” Hyran argued. 

“Udesii, vode,” Cyclo said, just as playfully. 

Sheres looked over his rifle one last time, making sure it had a full charge. Another mission complete, another day lived through. 

The last thing he noted before falling asleep was the blood staining the floor near the door, blood spilled by but not from his brothers.