#she won't even read the talking points she walks directly onto set and just starts with like the shit

[eclipsecrowned]

sees a post on the dash. remembers ax's evelyn m. had to get danae wranglers during the in universe trial because she told the press directly that her father and all the other founders/cronies were of a certain political persuasion, a violently hidden company secret. when evelyn tried to drag danae off during the initial statement, danae enunciated clearly into a mic 'YOURS TOO, EVELYN.'

[alirhi]

...goddess help me...

This fucking episode. *deep breath* This... This episode is where I'm expecting to get some serious hate. Let me just get this out of the way right up front:

I. Hate. Zemo.

I do not find him sympathetic, or funny, or charming. I find him creepy and annoying. I did not like him in CA:CW and I do not like him in TFATWS. If you are pro-Zemo, you are not going to like my version of this show from here on out. Just find something else to read and don't bother me about it. You've got the actual canon, so go enjoy that.

Got it? Good. Now, on to the main event!

Episode 3: The Power Broker

First of all, Sam doesn't let Bucky walk in there alone. No matter Bucky's (flimsy and nonsensical) argument, Sam's like "hell no. I go in with you, or you don't go in." The main reason for this isn't to keep Bucky from breaking Zemo out of prison (with decent writing, he would never do that) - it's so that Sam witnesses Zemo taunting Bucky with/about the trigger words. because Zemo is a piece of shit.

Since he doesn't know the full story, Sam is confused, but he files this interaction away to ask Bucky about later. He's listening to Zemo acknowledging that Bucky was "not conscious for most of [his] imprisonment" (which, yes, clearly refers to the time he spent frozen, but can also mean while he was under their control as TWS/"The Asset" - also, key word: imprisonment) and when he calls Bucky a means to an end, Sam scowls, looking ready to go off on him, but he waits. They've got more important issues.

Neither of them entertains the thought of breaking Zemo out for even a nanosecond. He does that shit himself. And literally the only reason I'm sticking with him getting out at all is because I want to address some truly egregious moments linked directly to him in the show. Zemo makes them think he's setting them on the trail when really he's just sending them to his motor pool. Bucky and Sam are confused until they see Zemo in his stolen guard uniform, then they're both angry and want to ship him right back to prison, but he strikes a deal with them: "My help for my temporary freedom. Creating super soldiers cannot be allowed to continue; let me finish my work, and then do with me as you will." He has no intention of going quietly back to prison, obviously, and they're not stupid enough to believe otherwise, but they believe they can keep him on a short leash, so they agree for now. Anything to bring down the Flag Smashers and whoever created them.

After the title, we cut to Raynor on the phone in her office. She's agitated, fiddling with things on her desk. "No, sir," she's practically growling, "it was disrupted. - Walker did! - It's not my fault your new attack dog got off-leash!" She pauses, huffs, and says more calmly, "No. Of course not. I'm sorry. - Well, I don't see how, with the new Cap strutting around barking orders! - What am I supposed to do? Tell Captain America in front of a dozen witnesses that he can't have his predecessor's favorite pet because we're not done reprogramming him? I didn't see that going over too well. I made a call. - No. No, no, no, we can still use him. The work's not finished, but he still trusts me. He'll be back." A pause as she listens. Angry again, she snaps, "What do you want me to do, shove a tracker up his ass? He'll be back, and we'll pick right back up where we left off! - Don't worry, sir, the Asset will be fully compliant and ready to use soon. I'll make sure of it. - Yes, sir. You, too." She hangs up and tosses her phone on the couch, grumbling, "Dick."

Cut back to Sam, Bucky, and Zemo getting going on their trip to Madripoor. On the plane, Sam wants to talk to Bucky about what he's learned so far, but doesn't want to bring it up in front of Zemo... until the notebook incident reminds him that Zemo already knows more about Bucky than he does.

After Zemo's line about the list, Sam angrily corrects him: "You mean people HYDRA used The Winter Soldier to hurt." When Zemo shrugs and his response is basically along the lines of "what's the difference" Sam is like "oh hell no."

"Those words you were reciting at him," he reminds Zemo, "what were they, Russian? They clearly meant something. They were supposed to do something. What are they?" "Sam, let it go," Bucky pleads, unable to look at either of them. "It's nothing." "You wanna drown in your guilt, that's fine," Sam snaps, "but make sure it's for the right reasons." He turns back to Zemo, who's smiling at this exchange because he's a monster and thinks Bucky's suffering is fucking funny. "I asked you a question, Zemo. What did those words do?" "They activate the Winter Soldier programming," Bucky grudgingly admits. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's sure as hell not going to let Zemo speak for him. "Or, they did, before the Wakandans got all that shit out of my head." "It's a shame," Zemo says with a smirk. "Imagine the possibilities that come with perfect obedience." "I think you mean 'slavery'," Sam growls, "and I think you're in the wrong crowd to be looking so pleased about it. Remember that we can send your ass back to prison any time." "Of course," Zemo agrees, but with an arrogant smile that shows he doesn't believe for a second that these two have any real power over him. Still, he bides his time and sits back quietly, watching Bucky fidget with the notebook. Sam turns back to Bucky, seeing his discomfort; he won't let the topic go, though, not yet. He just softens his tone. "So, they 'activated the Winter Soldier'? What exactly does that mean?" Bucky shrugs, still not looking up. "Pretty much what he said - perfect obedience. What little consciousness they left me between cryo and the chair was squashed down, locked away. And I did whatever I was told, exactly the way they told me to." It finally clicks. He'd had his suspicions before, of course, but now Sam gets it. Visibly horrified, he stares at this quiet, broken man, and finally sees the truth of what he'd been through for 70 years: "They stripped away your autonomy. Shit, Bucky, they didn't even let you be a person. That's..." He swallows, looking like he'll be sick any minute. "That's awful, man. I'm so sorry." When Bucky tries to shrug it off and downplay it again, Sam gets angry. "Look at me!" He waits; it takes a few seconds, but Bucky reluctantly looks up and is surprised to see just how upset Sam is on his behalf. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. When Steve said you didn't have a choice, I had no idea... You really, truly had no choice; not even the ability to choose. That's horrifying." "I doubt it would make much difference to the people he's killed," Zemo points out snidely. "Or their families. Let's ask Tony Stark, shall we?" "You shut the hell up," Sam growls. He watches Bucky flinch and make that face - the face he's starting to really fucking hate - that says he agrees with Zemo. Bucky still can't see things the way Sam does; he still feels the guilt and shame, and even when he himself pointed out his lack of agency under HYDRA, it didn't click for him that Sam is right, not Zemo.

It's too much, too soon. Sam sees that and decides to change the subject, to give Bucky some time to process. He nods at the notebook, and they have their little Marvin Gaye debate, where Sam is over the top about it on purpose, because Bucky needs the distraction.

Of course, Zemo ruins it by opening his big mouth again and reminding Bucky of more trauma: his time fighting in WWII. That's why Sam latches onto the bit about Madripoor; to keep the focus not only on the task at hand, but off of Bucky's past that he clearly still can't cope with.

"James... You will have to become someone you claim is gone." Sam is officially ready to throw Zemo out a window. 😂 The only reason he doesn't jump to Bucky's defense again and basically tell Zemo to fuck himself (in a PG-13 way 🙄) is because Bucky's, as Sam pointed out in ep2, a grown-ass man, and because he's just learned how few decisions this poor man has been able to make in his life. Sam doesn't want to come across as another "handler," deciding everything for him, even if he does think this plan is stupid and needlessly cruel.

At the bar, when asked if he wants "the usual", Sam just casually waves the bartender off like "nah". Zemo already said they had business to attend to, so it's not like anyone would be suspicious that now's probably not a good time to be doing weird shots lol. (wtf even was that? I'm not sure I want to know, but...what part of the snake did he drop into that drink?)

Sam's not an idiot (I'm really so sick of this trend of turning intelligent characters into morons because the writers can't think of any other way to move their plot along) so his cell phone has been off this whole time. No sudden call from Sarah to put them all in danger. There was really no point to that, anyway; Sharon likely would have killed Selby for talking about Nagle with or without the excuse of "saving" Sam and Bucky. I mean, it's not like they know who fired that shot, ever.

"They cleared the Bionic Staring Machine," Sam still jokes, but he follows it with, "and they think he's a mass-murderer." "They think?" Sharon stares at him incredulously. "Didn't he kill pretty much everyone he's ever met?" "Wow." Sam glances back at Bucky. "She really is awful now." To Sharon, he adds, "You met Steve; do you really think he'd have defied 117 countries to protect someone evil?" "He did it for Bucky," she points out. "Let's face it - Bucky could blow up half the planet, and Steve's loyal-to-a-fault ass would still take a bullet for him." "You know I'm sitting right here, right? I can hear you." "Look, I don't think you're evil, Bucky," Sharon assures him. "But I know you killed a lot of people for HYDRA." "I'm not denying it." "He didn't have a choice," Sam snaps, glaring at them both. "But we're not getting into that right now. My point is, the government's afraid of Bucky, and they still pardoned him. All you did was steal something. I'm sure they can be persuaded to see reason." "The day the US government sees reason," Sharon quips, rolling her eyes, "is the day I sprout real wings and fly off into the sunset." "Careful, Icarus," Bucky mocks with a smirk, "the sun and brand new wings don't exactly go together." Then he shrugs and glances at Sam. "But she's not wrong."

At the party that night, it takes a few minutes (grumpy old man Bucky's not sure how to feel about the music lol) but a peek of pre-war Bucky comes out to play: they were told to "blend in", so he dances. At first he's just bobbing around alone looking stoic and out of place, but soon he's smiling and dancing between two attractive people - one male, one female. Sam is surprised, but before he can tease him for it, Sharon comes to get them all. Even she's a little "wait what?" at Bucky having a little fun lol. (recovery is not linear, guys. trauma doesn't mean "perpetually miserable, no fun, doesn't even know how to smile." in my TFATWS, Bucky gets his lighter moments; real ones, not humor at his expense)

When they find Nagle, Bucky's the one who notices and opens the secret door, while Sam keeps an eye on Zemo. Bucky catches Zemo trying to grab that gun; closes the drawer on his hand before opening it and taking the gun away. "Nice try." Nagle tries to get away while there's only one person watching him, but Sam catches him and forces him back into his seat. With a bruising grip on the back of Zemo's neck, Bucky drags him back over to where he and Sam can both keep an eye on him. Nagle is killed in the shootout as they're trying to escape; Zemo still runs off, blows shit up, and comes back with the stolen car so he's not totally useless.

I had no problem with Zemo being the one to kill Nagle; Nagle was the worst and def had to die, and Zemo has never had an issue killing anyone. Where I took issue with this scene was Bucky and Sam being dumb enough to let Zemo wander and get his hands on a gun. Nope. Not happening.

Anyway, shootout! Explosions! Funny banter! The seat thing, which is my favorite nod to CW ever lol... And then the conversation on the plane...

"You okay?" "Yeah." Sam sighs. "Just thinking." "About how to get Sharon that pardon you dangled in front of her?" He shakes his head. "About how Nagle referred to 'The Winter Soldier Program" like it was some kind of after school club; like you weren't standing right there. And 'the American test subject' like... Like Isaiah wasn't even a real person." He turns to face Bucky, looking angry and weary. "Makes me wonder how many times... How many times are we gonna run around in the same circles before people learn? And how many people need to get crushed underfoot in the meantime?" "Did you really just equate me with Isaiah?" Bucky frowns, not sure how to react to that. "That man is a hero." Sam opens his mouth to say something, but his phone goes off and Zemo approaches at the same time, effectively cutting off their conversation.

When they get to Riga and Zemo tries to guilt trip them over Sokovia, Bucky deadpan reminds him, "Neither of us were involved in that fight." "I doubt you'd have been much help if you were." He shrugs. "Probably not. But I like to save my guilt for events I was actually present for. It's a thing." Zemo laughs. "Fair enough."

Bucky goes on his walk, and meets up with Ayo.

[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Good Soldiers—Chapter 3/4

Remembering Yesterday’s Tomorrow (In the Here and Now)- Part 4 cont.

As much as Rex wants to move directly onto the next step in removing Krell, there is still a war that needs to be dealt with. Having Fives in his corner helps immensely as both a sounding board and support. It has taken a weight off his shoulders that he is infinitely glad he no longer has to shoulder alone. However, he had forgotten the specific brand of insanity that comes from working with his brothers, and while he is happy (among the other emotions that swirl dangerously close to the surface) to have them in his life again, it does, at times, make him wish his hair was longer so he could pull it out. Especially as he, Jesse, Tup, and Hardcase listen to Fives' infiltration plan.

"You want to what?"

He knows his plan to deal with Krell isn't perfect, but he hopes beyond all sense of reason that it's better then what he just heard Fives suggest.

"Have the men and myself fly the Umbaran craft into the supply ship and blow up the main reactor."

Last time, he hadn't asked for details. The thinking being he couldn't report what he didn't know. If this was the same plan that Fives had used to take down the supply ship, Rex knows why it went so horribly wrong.

"You are aware that General Skywalker was already one of the best pilots in the galaxy at that time? And that most of it was an accident?"

His brother looks sheepish. From his perch atop a table, Rex pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. Despite knowing the answer, he asks his next question anyway.

"How many men are you planning to take up?"

"It would be us three, Sir."

Rex looks at Jesse who has momentarily looked up from cleaning his blaster to indicate Fives, Hardcase, and himself. The Captain unconsciously brings a hand up to stroke a beard that isn't there, thinking over the specifics that he was privy to the first time around — regretting his lack of involvement and the subsequent lack of information.

“If you have a better plan, we’re all ears.”

He thinks of Ahsoka, of her uncanny ability (force given or natural, he never knew) to plan on the fly. To take a pile of unknowns and somehow rearrange them until they created actionable intel. There was a reason she was one of the leaders of the Rebellion, and he, her right-hand-man.

But she's not here. Surrounded by a room of living ghosts, the only thing he has of her is his ring and the memories of advice they had shared. One in particular whispers across his mind.

Work with what you know.

So that’s what he does.

He thinks about the Separatist ships he's been on. The narrow passages designed for droids and not much else. Considers the size and challenges of the Umbaran crafts. Three would be a tight squeeze and tricky to maneuver in such a limited space, even with the best of pilots, never mind when operated by foot soldiers who considered demolishing a hanger a successful test run.

"Send only one pilot."

"Without backup?"

Tups concern is valid, a brother without backup was always a dangerous thing, for the mission and the soldier both. But he doesn't have a better plan, not one that would work with their limited number of men, resources, and time. He can only pray that what he can change will be enough.

Rex leaves that part out when he explains his thinking, although Fives gives him a brief side-eye. He watches as each man mulls over the idea, weighs the pros and the cons, considers their part.

"I'll do it."

His heart sinks.

"The Captains right, and I have the most experience with the tech."

"Hardcase, " He isn't sure what to say without giving himself away to everyone in the room. When he had first woken and started putting together his plan, he had considered that there may be things he couldn’t change, couldn’t make right. Hardcase it would seem, is one of those things. A knot of emotion catches in his chest as he considers the very real possibility of watching his brother's death a second time over. Eventually, he settles on the only question available to him.

“Are you sure?”

His brother squares his shoulders, easy-going manner set aside.

“I am, Captain.”

The room is silent for a moment, heavy with the knowledge that this very well may end up a suicide mission.

"What about—"

At that moment the doors to the barracks open, cutting Jesse off mid-sentence, revealing Dogma, head bent over a datapad and lips silently moving.

The collective group freezes, including Dogma who seems to realize he has the full attention of everyone in the room. His head snaps up and eyes go wide, jaw clicking shut, and for a second Rex thinks he can see fear in his brother's eyes. But his time to observe is limited, as Dogma, without so much as a word, about faces and leaves the room with the speed of a man being chased by cannon fire.

The group exchange glances and all Rex can do is shrug at the inquiring look Fives sends his way, just as stumped by his brothers behavior as the rest of them. He had expected suspicion and anger, or even the cold shoulder. Those he could understand, but fear?

He shakes himself internally. His concerns about Dogma hardly the top of his priorities at the moment.

"What about Krell?" Jesse repeats, looking between Fives and Rex in equal measure.

"We need a Jedi."

Hardcase scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Yeah, I don't know if you noticed Captain, but they're in short supply."

"I'm just saying that his ability to receive transmissions with new orders is awfully convenient, considering they're supposed to be being jammed."

Jesse looks up from cleaning his blaster with a critical eye.

"You think he's lying about communications with the 212th?"

Rex nods.

"It's a possibility. And it won't hurt to try and get General Kenobi here to assist."

"I think, " Tup starts slowly. "That I might be able to convince a few of the men to try and establish contact against orders. No promises, though."

Rex looks over to Fives, who nods in agreement.

"That's all we can ask for Tup."

Tup inclines his head at the ARC Trooper.

"And what if, and that's a karking large if mind you, we can't get the General to assist?"

Rex sighs.

"Plan B and prey."

----

Dogma was acting strange.

Usually, Tup wouldn't have paid much attention to his brother's odd habits. But he had never seen him that upset before or that close to exchanging blows with another brother. He understands Dogma's anger; he does. Is still reeling from the implications himself, even though nothing he heard really surprised him when he thought about it. But he also understands, as best as he can understand his brother, why it would affect Dogma more than the rest. He’s aware that he is the closest to Dogma, one of the few Vod’e who took the time to get to know the tightly wound trooper. And as a result, is far more used to the quirks of behavior than most and has learned to read Dogma with some degree of accuracy.

But he’s not sure what to make of his brother's recent behavior; walking into rooms, only to turn back around when he spots any of them, constantly reading at every available opportunity. Not that Dogma hadn’t done his share of recreational reading, but this was something different. The few times Tup had found him in the past hours, Dogma seemed to be enthralled, reading as if his life depended on it.

And now he is missing from his bunk.

It feels like avoidance, but never in his short life has Tup known Dogma to do anything less than face a problem head-on.

It concerns him, for Dogmas sake. His one consolation being that he knows his brother would ask for help if he needed it.

Whatever it is Dogma is up to, he only hopes it won't cause a problem for the Captain.

-----

Watching the sky for the impending destruction of the Separatist ship is by far the tensest twenty minutes of Rex’s life, and he intends to spend them with his eyes glued to the sky as if he might be able to see the raging space battle and the one small ship that contains his brother if he looks hard enough. Futile, he knows, but it's all he can do. The troops mill around him, coming and going at their own paces, running information back to the main tower, or just enjoying what rest they can in the middle of a war zone. At some point, Fives joins him.

"Any word?"

"Not yet, Captain."

"Any sign that Krell suspects?"

Fives shakes his head.

"No, Sir. I don't know what you told him about the takeoff, but he doesn't seem suspicious."

Rex didn't expect he would be, since he's almost certain that Krell knows what they are doing despite the lie Rex had fed him. Suspects that Krell knew the first time too, and that everything that followed was designed to torture himself and the men as much as possible.

They laps into silence and Rex returns his focus to the sky.

"Permission to ask a question?"

Rex glances at his brother, gauging the request.

"Granted."

"How did this mission go, last time?"

Fives is looking at him, but Rex can't meet his eyes and hopes that his brother will let the topic go with a simple answer.

"It was a success,"

"Rex, " The plea is soft, and it strikes him how much younger his brother is; the gap between them able to be measured in decades instead of a few years. Aware that behind the bravado and the swagger, Fives is as scared as Rex, wondering if he just sent his brother to his death.

He's hesitant to talk about it, the memories from Umbara old wounds that never fully healed. The sound of distant artillery and shelling only hammers home the futility of attempting to avoid them.

"I wasn't as involved last time, didn't really condone the course of action. I don't know what went wrong exactly, but from what I gathered something happened to sound the alarm, and the Seppies raised the ray shield around the main reactor. It had to be detonated by hand."

"Which brother...?"

"Hardcase."

The inhale of breath is sharp, and its what makes Rex finally look at his vod'ika, sees the pain in his eyes.

"Fives, I'm sorry."

"He knows the risks."

Rex isn't sure who the phrase is trying to console, Fives, or himself. He reaches out a hand to the back of his brother's neck, gently bringing their foreheads together. He can feel his little brother tremble ever so slightly under his touch, and he gives what he hopes is a comforting squeeze. They stay like that until the Captain feels the ARC Troopers breathing even out. When he pulls away Fives looks better, less shaken, and although his grin isn't as large as normal, it's still there. (He marks it down in a new column in his heart, right next to Ahsoka's smiles and laughter, counting it as a small victory against a war that's designed to cause as much misery as possible).

"Thanks, Gramps."

Despite himself, he laughs. Perhaps, he thinks, the nickname isn't so bad if it brings a little joy.

He's about to respond, when a flash of light overhead draws their attention; Bright orange and yellow that bleeds through the dark clouds. Hardcase did it. But he doesn't let himself relax, not yet, because for all the changes made, he still doesn't know if he changed enough.

His heart pounds in his ears and he's fairly certain that he's forgotten to breathe. The seconds tick by, each one seemingly longer than the last. Beside him, Fives is tense; eyes also fixed to the sky, waiting and watching.

The relief that foods him when he spots the speck of light approaching is indescribable. However, it quickly fades when he notices the erratic flight, the way the ship lists dangerously to one side, and (when it gets closer) the sparks that trial behind it.

The landing, if it can be called that, is rough, and when the shield comes down, Rex is there ready to catch his brother if need be. It's a good thing too, as Hardcase tumbles from the seat, blood leaking from under his helmet. It takes a matter of moments to find the pulse at his brother's neck and only then does Rex breathe. Unconscious, but miraculously alive.

Boots on the pavement prompt him and Fives to look up.

"The General requests your presence."

---

Knowing the execution order is coming doesn't make it any easier to hear or make him want to strangle the fallen Jedi any less. Especially as Hardcase, barley able to stand from what Rex strongly suspects is a concussion, has to be assisted to his mark.

“Do the prisoners request blindfolds?”

Tup looks disturbed to even be asking the question, and Rex’s heart goes out to him. No brother should have to face killing their own family.

Not right.

He has to check again to be sure he isn't imagining it, but no, it is Tup at the firing line.

Fives has begun speaking, but Rex doesn’t pay attention, too busy doing a headcount, grateful for the lack of helmets obscuring faces. He does it again, just to be sure.

Dogma isn't there.

Distantly, he's aware that Fives speech is winding to a close, but only just. Too busy running over the possibilities, the implications, and drawing a blank.

The sound of blaster fire draws his attention violently back to the present, and he is no less relieved to see that the firing squad had come to the same conclusion as before.

Fives glares at him as he walks up.

"A warning would have been nice." The ARC trooper hisses under his breath.

"And miss that speech? Look at them Fives, " he surreptitiously gestures to the men as he begins undoing the binders. "Sometimes we forget that we're more than walking numbers, especially under men like Krell. They needed to hear that."

The binders come off with a click, and Fives rubs his wrists.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I needed to hear it."

The ARC Trooper looks at the Captain for a moment, eventually nodding his head in acceptance.

"Besides, " Rex cocks an eyebrow, "I thought you didn't believe me?"

Fives punches him in the arm.

---

To say that Krell is displeased at the news of the failed execution would be an understatement. The fallen Jedi is livid, and standing before him held in a fourhanded grip, forced to look up to meet the massive force users gaze, Rex is reminded of standing up against the Imperial AT-AT on Seelos, just him, Gregor, and Wolffe; Easily uncrushable and very small.

“You are making a mistake by crossing me clone.”

It is fortunate then, that he isn't immune from the insanity that plagues his brothers, and that his tolerance for disrespect dwindled significantly with age.

“Its Captain.”

The lack of ‘Sir’ does not go unnoticed, and Krell’s grip on his arms tightens to the point of bruising. Rex does not look away. Neither does Krell, not even as a trooper relays the incoming transmission.

Rex is aware that were they alone, Krell would drop all pretenses of being a General. When the Besalisk does let go, it's accompanied by a shove and despite his best efforts, Rex stumbles.

“Lock the traitors in the brig. You have your stay of execution, Captain.”

The way Krell says his title slides like ice down Rex’s spine and leaves a rancid taste in his mouth.

“We take the Capitol now.”

---

The battle passes in a blur and by the time its over, he's shaken to his core. The reality of it so much worse than the nightmares ever were. Worse because he can still taste the ion trace from the blasters that lingers in the air, the screams of his brothers ringing to loud in his ears. Unable to console himself with the knowledge that it was just a dream.

The blood caked into his blacks.

He's only one man he tries to remind himself, only one man against a tide of destruction and death. He can't change everything.

Intellectually he knows its not his fault — that it's Krell and Krell alone that is responsible for every life lost in this sector of the planet.

It doesn't help, knowing that the battle - the loss- was designed to be a form of torture, not when it worked so well. Not when he still blames himself—his orders for the troops to not wear their helmets into battle being too little, too late, with far too many brothers dead by friendly fire.

Blames himself for every brother lost.

For Waxer.

His fists clench in a mix of rage and sorrow, before pulling himself back to present. They have minutes left before they go to confront Krell, and he needs to focus as they go over the plan one last time. The prison is hardly private, but at this point, discretion no longer matters. He knows that every brother, not just the little band he has assembled, will stand with him.

"I still say we should just kill him."

By rights, Hardcase shouldn't even be out of medical, but Rex strongly suspects that only death would have kept him from joining the fight against Krell at this point.

He shakes his head.

"And I'm right there beside you Vod, but unless we want to end up shipped back to Kamino for reconditioning, we need-"

"Evidence."

All four heads whip around. There, standing in the door to the cell, looking haggard and broken is Dogma. No one says a word as he makes his way toward the group and silently extends a datastick, hands trembling.

"I couldn't get what you said out of my mind." He addresses Rex. "About how things didn't add up. So I read his reports, ran the numbers. You were right."

His face is stony, but in his eyes, Rex can see the betrayal, the anger, the overwhelming sense of loss that comes from having ones whole world come undone around them.

"He didn't even hide it."

Ah, he read those reports. Brutal and full of plain language detailing his choices. The kind of reports where it didn't make sense how they could have gone without being flagged, not until Rex had learned the truth about Palpatine, just one of the many puzzle pieces that fell into place. Rex carefully takes the datastick.

“How do I help?”

He looks from Dogma to the cylindrical tube. Evidence, he had said.

"Is this what I think it is?"

Dogma nods.

"Every file, every report, every statistic." His smile is a wry, bitter thing. Sharp and self-deprecating, edged with the anger of a man who will never again be played for a fool. "It's amazing what you can get access to when someone thinks you're in their back pocket."

Then they have all the evidence they need.

"Tup, any word from the 212th?"

"No, Captain."

His frustration slips past his lips as a growl and he rapidly does the mental calculations, handing the datastick back to the tattooed Trooper.

"Dogma, get this to General Kenobi. I don't care how or who you have to go through to get it to him, but it's for his eyes only. Understand?"

The Trooper salutes, new purpose lending strength to his bearing, and as he barks out a "Yes, Sir!" he almost looks like the Dogma Rex remembers from the start of the campaign.

He looks around the cell at his brothers, fully kitted and armed, faces set with grim determination.

"Alright, men: Plan B."

[chloe-gayzer]

Okay could you please write something where Sam can tell that the girls want each other but won't say anything for reasons, so he takes matters into his own hands and like trips Chloe so she falls face first into Nadine's lap and just freezes, and Nadine's all "a bold move, do you plan on getting up?" And Chloe's like "would you punch me if I said no? Cause I really like it here, but I don't wanna get socked in the jaw again."

[[Rightio!]]

Read It on AO3

Sam went for the keys. “I’ll drive,” he stated. Both women were quick to object.

“I–” Chloe started.

“She–” spoke Nadine at the same time.

“–will drive,” they finished. The two gave each other an amused look.

Sam raised an eyebrow, handing the keys off to Chloe. “… Alright. Fine.” He stepped back so they could get on the jeep before him. He followed suit. In the back, of course.

The two seemed… close. But Sam wasn’t sure what was going on between them. Ever since they’d met up again– courtesy of Asav– Chloe had been rather defensive of Nadine. Something had to have happened between them. Chloe wasn’t quick to trust, Sam knew that much. But here she was, partnering up with Nadine, ex-mercenary captain.

There had to be more to it. Absolutely had to be.

Chloe liked women, Sam knew that. But did Nadine?

Was that what it was? They were attracted to each other?

For all Sam knew, they were already together and hiding it from him. He could understand that. They were in India– same sex couples weren’t exactly accepted there.

He’d have to ask Chloe. With a little pressure, she’d tell him.

__________

Sam cornered Chloe on their way to a hotel. Nadine had hung back at the car to make a phone call while Chloe and Sam headed in. Before getting to the desk, he pulled Chloe to the side.

“Hey, uh… Is there something going on between you two?”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “She’s my partner,” came the easy answer.

“No, like… more than that.”

She crossed her arms. “What are you on about?”

He shrugged and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You ‘nd Nadine. There’s gotta be something there. With the way you act together…”

Chloe frowned. “We’re just partners. And good friends at that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and gave her a knowing look. “Listen, I’ve had good friends before, but we never acted like you two unless we were fucking.”

“Wow. Eloquently put, really. But no, nothing is going on between us.”

“But you’re interested in her,” Sam stated.

Chloe sighed and looked away from him. “And what if I am?”

“Do somethin’ about it! Make a move!” He glanced back towards the hotel door as it opened, but, thankfully, it wasn’t Nadine.

The treasure hunter scoffed and rolled her eyes. “For one, this partnership is pretty new. I don’t really feel like ruining it by trying to seduce her. Second off…” She shrugged. “I don’t actually know if she likes women. So it’s better safe than sorry.”

“Find out,” Sam encouraged. “There’s something there, I can tell!”

Chloe opened her mouth to answer, but the door to the hotel opened again, this time showing Nadine. “Hey, Frazer. Help me with something?”

“Happy to.” She shot Sam a warning glance. “Go book the rooms.”

“Fine, fine.”

Chloe followed Nadine out. Sam headed for the desk, but he was focused on them still.

Hm. Maybe the hotel only had two rooms left, and both were single beds… That could help.

__________

Sam kicked his feet up onto the balcony railing. “I’m just saying. More money that way. A lot more.”

He was seated on the balcony of Nadine and Chloe’s room. By chance, and definitely not by way of a bribed hotel worker, the hotel only had two rooms left! And each only had a single bed! Sam had taken one and left the other to the women. Chloe seemed suspicious, but she didn’t comment out right. It helped that Sam had convinced the worker at the desk to tell the same lie– with the help of some cash.

Nadine rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Still siding with Chloe on this?” He frowned.

She nodded and took a sip of her drink. “It’s important to her, so it’s important to me.”

Sam held his tongue. He might be able to talk to Chloe about what she had with Nadine, but he got the feeling he’d end up with a broken arm if he tried with Nadine. But he could do some scouting for his friend. Chloe might make a move if she knew Nadine liked women.

Nadine and Chloe’s room was on the third floor of the hotel and looked out over a small marketplace. He surveyed the crowd below, a plan formulating in his mind.

“He looks good,” Sam commented, indicating to a man walking below.

Nadine raised an eyebrow, glancing at the man indicated. “If you say so.”

That was a good start. “What, not your type?”

She shrugged.

“Look at him, he’s got a handsome face, nice arms… great ass.”

A huff. “No, he’s not my type.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “An ass like that? He’s everyone’s type.”

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “I prefer women.”

Jackpot.

“Ah. What about her then?” He gestured to a woman at a booth below. “I guess she’s…cute.”

The mercenary looked. Another shrug. “She’s not bad.”

“You pick one then.”

“These are people, you know.”

“Yeah, and I’m asking who you find attractive. There are plenty of women down there. Find someone who’s your type.”

Nadine seemed unamused by the statement, but she scanned the crowd. After a moment, she jerked her chin towards a woman at a food stall. “Her, then.”

Sam looked. The woman had dark hair, a pretty face, and was a bit on the taller side. “Not bad,” he said aloud. Internally, he was drawing up the similarities between the stranger on the street and Chloe. It didn’t really matter though– he could tell Chloe that Nadine liked women.

__________

“Hey, quick question, Sam. Can you leave me be?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re just annoying me.”

Chloe was seated at the table in her and Nadine’s room, looking over the little trinkets and treasures. Nadine had run out to pick up dinner, so of course, Sam was doing his best to convince Chloe to act on the new information he’d gathered.

“Just ask her to dinner. I swear you two are gonna be great.”

Chloe put one hand to her brow. “Can’t you at least let me do things in my own time?”

Sam shrugged. “Do like that crab in that kid’s movie says: kiss the girl.”

She paused, setting down the trinket she’d been holding, and gave him a long look. “Weren’t you… in jail when that came out?”

He shrugged. “You’re avoiding the topic.”

She sighed and gave him an annoyed look. “Listen. She’s lovely. Beautiful, even, but I’d be an idiot to risk our partnership for sex.”

“Then don’t make it just for sex.”

“Why are you so invested in this?”

A huff left Sam and he sat in the other chair. “Couple reasons: you two are, like… eighty percent there already, but you’re acting too dense to see it! And also, it’d be kinda funny to tell Nathan about you two.”

The treasure hunter gave him an annoyed look and turned back to her treasures.

“What, you’re just ignoring me now?”

“Don’t you have your own room to be in?”

The door opened as Sam responded. “Well, yeah, but I’m just trying to get you to see the point.”

“What point?” Nadine asked, setting the takeout on the table.

“He’s trying to convince me that we should sell the tusk again,” Chloe responded smoothly. “I told him to fuck off.”

“Good response.”

“I thought so too.”__________

“How do you feel?” Nadine asked. They’d just handed the Tusk of Ganesh over to the Ministry of Culture and Chloe hadn’t said a word since.

Chloe took a deep breath. “Good, I think.”

“From what you told me, your father would be proud.”

“Thanks, love. I think so too.”

Sam refrained from speaking but took a sip of his drink. They were seated in a small cafe in their outdoor seating. Sam, of course, was still kind of bitter that they hadn’t sold it.

Chloe leaned her elbows onto the table. “Well, I say we get moving.” She pushed herself up and out of her chair.

Sam saw his chance. If he couldn’t convince Chloe to act, then childish antics needed to come into play. He casually jerked his foot out, directly interfering with the step Chloe had been taking out of her chair. Already off balance, she swore and stumbled back, hitting her own chair and, finally, falling towards Nadine. Lucky for her, Nadine had fast reflexes– her arm shot out and caught her partner, half pulling Chloe into her lap.

Sam failed to hide his grin.

Chloe sighed and gave Nadine a smile. “Well, hello, beautiful.”

“Perhaps we should just tell him, preferably before his idiotic antics get you hurt?” Nadine suggested.

He sat up, suddenly interested. “Tell me what?”

Chloe stood up and brushed herself off, smirking. “Oh, I don’t know if you deserve to know.”

Nadine mirrored the expression but sighed. “If he does something that gets you hurt, I’ll rethink that whole "not killing him” you convinced me on.“

"Tell me what?” he said again.

“We’re dating,” Nadine answered.

Sam’s face lit up. “Since when?”

“First night at the hotel,” the treasure hunter responded.

“You didn’t tell me!”

Both women had broad grins. “She wanted to mess with you,” came the answer.

Chloe nodded. “You seemed so invested, I wanted you to think it wouldn’t happen.” She offered a hand to Nadine and pulled her up. After a quick peck on the cheek, she shrugged. “Getting together on our own terms felt better than listening to you go on and on.”

Sam grinned. “Seeing as I’m the reason you shared a hotel room, I’m taking credit.”

“Because you took the other room left at the hotel?”

“Because I bribed the guy to tell you there were only two rooms.”

Chloe rubbed a hand down her face. “Lovely.” A sigh. “Well, darling,” she said to Nadine. “At least you’re worth putting up with him.”

[crystallinekingdom]

"Are you scared? ... Then why won't you look at the screen?" (Prompt)

hey this got a little long… also im sorry it took 2 days

Movie Night

Taako’s sprawled out on the couch in their suite, painting his nails a shimmering blue and watching the world below through the now-exposed porthole that makes up most of the living room’s floor, when his Stone of Farspeech starts ringing where he left it on the coffee table.

He had expected this to be a quiet day. Apparently, in the aftermath of saving the world, nobody cares if you take a few extra days off work - Merle was planetside visiting his kids, while Magnus had gone to spar with Killian and Carey.

Whilst attempting to grasp for his Stone with semi-wet paint all over his nails, Taako drops the bottle of polish onto the counter, and the device is suddenly covered in tacky blue sparkles. He curses three different gods as he brings it up to his ear, inwardly praying that the person at the other end isn’t Brad ready to lecture him for thirty minutes about his use of expletives and how it isn’t beneficial to a teamwork environment.

It’s not. His sister’s voice crackles through the speaker, muffled by bad reception but still audible, and a grin spreads across his face.

“How’s it hanging, dork?” Lup asks. Taako can hear gravel crunching under her feet as she walks.

“Just chilling up here. What are you and the nerd up to, do-gooding in some random village again?” Lup and Barry had not been as blasé about the aftermath of the apocalypse as him and the boys - every day they were assisting a cleanup effort somewhere, trying to get areas that had been hit hard by the Hunger back in working order.

“Not today, actually, and that’s why I called. We aren’t scheduled to be in Goldcliff till Wednesday morning, which gives us, like, a day and a half free. Figured we’d drop by the moonbase and say hi. Want to hang out, or do you have better things to do?”

“No can do, sis, I’m busy curing cancer and making shoes for orphans - of course I’m down to hang out, who do you think I am? What time are you gonna be up here?”

“I just summoned a sphere, so.” The audio crackles a bit as she pauses, presumably to check her watch. “Around six, give or take?”

“Hell yeah. I’ll be in the suite. See ya then, goofus.” Taako puts the stone in his pocket, taking care to cap the bottle of blue polish on the table before hefting himself off the sofa.

The glass face of the clock on the wall has a large crack down its middle, but he can still make out a time that’s somewhere around 4:50 p.m. Enough time to whip something quick up, he thinks as he makes his way over to the kitchen.

Taako is halfway through mixing a bowl of dough for a yet-unfinished batch of glazed lemon cookies before he hears a light knock at the door. It’s much earlier than the ETA Lup had given him, but he trudges over, leans against the wall with one batter-sticky hand, and looks through the peephole.

In the hallway is Angus, newsboy cap slightly askew and clutching his wand to his chest. Taako is momentarily taken aback until he remembers what day of the week it is. Oh, shit. Monday is magic day.

He unlocks the deadbolt and pushes the door open with a flourish, feigning ignorance as to why the kid is here. “Hey, Django. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“Hello, sir!” Angus shifts from one foot to the other. “Uh, I’m sorry to trouble you, but I was just wondering if our magic lessons are, um, still a thing that’s happening? I mean, I totally understand if you’re busy, or if you’re finished training me now that I’m done being a Seeker and not really useful to you guys anymore, or-”

Taako cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Sorry, kiddo. Don’t think we’re going to be able to do a lesson today.” Angus’s face falls and he opens his mouth to say something, but Taako continues, “Lulu and Barold are coming up for the day. Want to stick around and ask them all those nerd science questions you’ve been asking me? Might even be some baked goods in it for ya.”

He leaves the door open and turns around to retreat back into the kitchen, catching Angus’s “Th-thank you so much!” and the sound of the door shutting, then small footsteps following him inside.

“Now that you’re here, bubbeleh, I’m gonna have to put you to work. Child labor isn’t illegal if it’s on the moon,” Taako says, lightly clapping Angus on the back. “Want to go grab me a half tablespoon of vanilla extract so I can add it to this sick batter?”

Lup and Barry open the door an hour later to the sight of cookies left to cool on the stovetop and Taako sitting on the couch with Angus, teaching him some particularly nasty Fantasy Yiddish curses.

After a bout of small talk (considering the twins have fallen back into their old habit of constantly keeping tabs on each other for blackmail material, there isn’t much catching up to do) and a brief trip back to Lup and Barry’s makeshift moonbase quarters, Barry lays out a stack of old DVD cases on the kitchen table in front of Angus.

“It’s my movie collection from back on the Starblaster”, he explains. “First thing I salvaged once we got the ship back up here. We haven’t seen any of these in at least a decade, so take your pick, kiddo.”

Angus takes his time opening each plastic case and reading the blurb on the back. By the time he’s done, the other three are in an angry debate over the Fantasy Star Wars prequels (“They give context for episodes four through six, you uncultured swines!”), and Angus has to throw the case he’s chosen at Taako’s head to get their attention.

Taako looks at the case - Fantasy Alien. He briefly questions whether the whole chestburster thing is too frightening for an eleven year old boy, until he realizes that said eleven year old boy has fought eldritch abominations and been thrown off the back of a moving train. So much for childhood innocence.

“Good choice, Agnes,” he says, twirling the case in his hand.

Twenty minutes later, the lights are off and they’re all piled onto the couch under a knit throw covered in yellow embroidered ducks. Barry’s got an arm around his girlfriend and is staring at the screen with an expression of childlike wonder, Lup is whispering suggestive comments into Taako’s ear between mouthfuls of cookie, and Angus…

As the characters onscreen argue about what to do with the young halfling lying on the operating table with a squid-alien-thing on his face, Angus’s eyes are anywhere but on the action. The blanket is wrapped tightly around him up to his chest, and he’s staring directly into it.

Taako wrestles his right arm free from where Angus had pinned it while leaning on him and uses it to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Are you scared?” he asks softly. Maybe Angus is more squeamish than he’d thought.

“Oh, no, sir! If this were a real mission, they would have listened to containment protocol and prevented all this from happening. This whole situation could have been avoided if not for the sake of dramatic irony!” Angus responds, without looking up from his blanket cocoon.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen?” Taako lightly noogies him, then tugs on Angus’s piece of the blanket.

Out falls a small spiral-bound notebook with blue and silver trim, hitting the floor face-up with a small thump. Honestly, Taako doesn’t know what else he expected - he reaches down to pick it up, and surveys the page it opened up onto.

Below some indecent Fantasy Yiddish phrases (he’s both proud of the kid and terrified Lucretia will come after him once she hears Angus using said phrases in conversation) is a detailed sketch of a spacecraft. It’s surrounded by liner notes, detailing the workings of each part of the craft, its name - SS Nostromo - and physics equations describing what looks to be its capability for interstellar travel.

“Woah, is this the ship from the movie?” Taako asks.

“Yes, um. I’m sorry for not paying attention, I just thought it was a really interesting concept and-”

“Angus. It’s really dang good. Consider me thoroughly impressed.”

“Thank you!” Angus grins. “I’m just wondering, I know the Starblaster was made for hopping between dimensions, but did it have the raw power required for regular-old third dimensional travel on a larger scale like in this movie? Like, interstellar spaceflight?”

Lup, who has apparently been paying more attention to this whisper-conversation than Taako would have thought, turns towards Angus and wipes a few stray crumbs off her face. “See, the thing with bond energy is that because it’s freakin’ everywhere, it only takes a small core to process a huge amount of it. That’s how we could use such a small exploratory vessel. Of course, traveling in five dimensions takes a lot more power than in three, but if you factor in gravity and antimatter-”

Taako cranks up the volume on the television just as Barry shifts to face them, presumably to point out some obscure law of astrophysics. Adorable. They should set up their own little think tank. Taako smiles fondly at them as they continue their conversation, his face lit by the dim glow of the screen, then turns back around just as the alien bursts out of the halfling’s chest.

By the time the credits roll, both Angus and Barry are out cold - Angus holding his notebook and curled up against Taako’s chest, Barry clutching a throw pillow with a picture of a corgi on it. Lup has extricated herself from the cuddle pile and is raiding his pantry, and Taako is trying to figure out the best way to reach for the remote without waking up the two nerds asleep on his couch.

“You know,” Lup calls out from the kitchen, “I still feel kinda bad about blowing up his macaroons. He’s a good kid. You think it’d be cool if I made it up to him by baking him some more?”

Taako looks down at Angus, takes off his glasses, and places them on the coffee table. “I think he’d like that a lot.”