Summary: Facing General Grievous by oneself is no easy task, so when something goes wrong Rex takes things into his own hands to defend what matters to him most.
Pairing: Rex x Padawan Reader (I think we all know the drill by now)
Warnings: injury, blood (mild), let me know if I missed something
Word count: 1036
The breath escaped your lungs as once again you collided with the suffocating walls.
Your lightsaber was clutched limply in your hands as you closed your eyes trying desperately to catch your breath.
You heard the taunting laughs from somewhere in front of you- or maybe some coughs snuck in somewhere.
âI thought youâd be better than this padawan,â Grievous loomed above you now, in this moment breaking your hand didnât seem as bad if you were to punch him right in the face. âArenât you going to get back up?â
Of course you were⌠right?
The room spun once again, you winced once while pushing yourself against the wall. You didnât relise how close Grievous really was too you before you felt his cold metallic hands on your shoulders.
âI thought you might need some help.â He laughed followed by another round of coughing. The ground was gone from bellow your feet before you could even comprehend what was going on.
Soon you were flying across the room once again and struck the wall right by one of the jammed doors. You felt the sickening feeling on your lightsaber rolling out of your hand after a deafening crash of your body hitting the wall.
You werenât really sure where it rolled off too, you werenât really sure if you could even keep your eyes open.
The rumble of Grievous heavy steps kept you semi-aware of his position as he said âthat would make a fine addition to my collection.â
You tried your best to prop yourself up but everything seemed to be going against you. The faint whisper came alive in your ears. âEverything will be ok, we got you child.â It murmured âHeâs coming.â
The force surrounded you like a weighted blanket; safe and secure.
You barley heard the sound of metal against metal as the door finally scraped open. Through the blurry mess you made out the unmistakable blue of the 501st.
You didnât need to open your eyes anymore when the presences of Rex filled your senses.
âWe need a medic up here quickly, itâs the commander.â He whispered into his com, so not to frighten you more if you could even hear him.
âWell whatâs this?â Grievous froze where he stood, âSo a clone like you came to save the day? Why bother.â
The question rubbed around like sand paper in his mind. Why bother? WHY BOTHER? If only anyone in the entire galaxy could understand just how he felt about the kid that laid half conscious protected by him.
He scoffed in return. Grievous waved his own lightsabers in the air. âWell what are you going to do clone?â
Rex found what you had been trying to look for, already knowing it would be almost impossible to land a shot on that clanker.
The metal felt weird in his hands, he could barely even fathom the power this weapon held in his hands. He looked back once at you.
Giving him an assuring nod he stood. Taking a defensive stance making sure you were well protected behind him.
âWhatâs your position?â He asked through his coms.
âAlmost there sir, about a minute.â Kix returned the message.
Rex gave a solemn nod and the flicked on the lightsaber. The weight felt perfect cradled in both of his hands.
His face contorted into pure rage, Grievous let out yet another laugh into a coughing fit.
âLetâs see what your made of soldier boy.â
Grievous launched himself towards the captain, the blades exploding in many different colors. Rex was doused in the greens and blues of the lightsabers.
Nothing was getting through him to his padawan, his commander, his everything. Not this time. And not ever.
He twirled the blade behind him picking up the momentum, just like he had seen Anakin do so many times while training or fighting besides you.
Rex came down in an agressive arc pushing the bot back a little, clearly he was just as surprised as Rex was.
Over the fighting footfalls could be heard outside the hall, they were almost there just a little longer.
Grievous swung in a deadly arc and Rex had to dive out of the way just to not get chopped up.
Shouting could now he heard from the halls, a blaster bullet struck the huge clanker square in the shoulder.
Another lightsaber could be heard from somewhere behind Rex, he looked to see Anakin.
Anakin stared at him with wide eyes for a second before shouting. âGo, Iâll handle the asthmatic.â
Rex was at your side in an instant after that, Kix felt your pulse and stared to wrap the visible wounds. Rex would rather not see the blood that stained your robes.
You grabbed his hand quickly, he jumped a little at your touch. âI didnât know you could fight like that without loosing a toe.â You wheezed decorated by a pained smile.
Rex shook his head a little, âYouâll have to teach me more.â He watched as your eyes closed again, face contouring in pain as Kix wrapped up something else.
âSorryâ he muttered. To Rex this time he said. âWe have to get them out of here quickly.â
Nodding Rex slipped one arm beneath your legs, and another by your shoulders. Oh maker why did you feel so⌠limp?
âPromise me kid.â He whispered down to you running after Kix.
A small mumble was heard from his chest. He said. âPromise youâll teach me, teach me when we get back to the temple.â
Of course he knew the council would never allow but it didnât matter this time.
You were frozen for a moment which made Rexâs heart spike. âI promiseâ You barely whispered. âI cant promise youâll be any good like me though.â
Rex let out a nervous laugh
As least if you could still make jokes and remarks at him you had to be somewhat alright.
âWhatever you say kid. Weâre almost there just hang on.â
He felt you curl up closer to his chest, for a moment everything seemed to go quite. Rex felt as if he held the entirety of the galaxy between his own two arms.
The Clone Wars arcs that I would write if I were a showrunner and Disney were smart:
The lead general dies early on in a mission, the commander is injured and incapacitated, and the clones are now tasked with planning and properly executing a battle plan with little cohesion or unity in thought
The republic has succesfully seized half a planet and is moving on to the other half. A squad of clones gets separated from the main battalion and is forced to face the results of endless war when they come face to face with civilians who do no like or appreciate the Republic and barely respect the clones
A clone commander contemplates desertion.Â
Half a squad of clone deserters avoid capture by their brothers but are eventually forced to confront their former families and come to terms with their decision.Â
(subplot) A clone has romantic feelings for the first time and has absolutely no idea how to handle them. even better if the romantic feelings are for a Jedi CO
(standalone) barhopping
A Jedi and a squad of clones are captured and imprisoned within a separatist testing facility. The jedi goes to work freeing every last one of her men and very nearly sacrificing her Jedi morals for the dark side/attachment when she abandons the emergency transport that arrives to go save her commander (they all do make it out)
A peak into clone culture: a rift forms in a company when two members of a squad disown one another and everyone starts taking sides
(subplot) some troopers are clearly mentally ill and in need of serious help, but the medic (the only one aware of mental illness in any capacity) is helpless to do anything because of the stigma surrounding appearing âweakâ in that way
Two battalions switch generals after a mix up during a battle. Battalion A gets Jedi B, who has to learn to leave behind their stiff and detached battle style/personality in order to gain the trust of their new men. Battalion B gets Jedi A, who has to learn to act like a ânormal Jediâ and apply some more careful thought to how they interact so they can stop freaking out the men and gain a deeper respect from them.
A couple of clones accidentally witness a deal gone wrong, lose all their communication devices, and have to find a way back to the surface so they can report the crime without being killed by the gang hunting them through the underworld.Â
Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex have to attend a formal gala and mingle with the upper echelons of Coruscanti Society at the request of the Chancellor. Anakin inflates battle stories to appear cool. Ahsoka gets patronized. Rex experiences a microaggression. Someone tries to kidnap a senator.
Clone Force journey in which they learn their intrinsic value as living beings regardless of a) their ability to fight and usefulness to the Republic and b) their small m-count and therefore presence in the force. they are stranded on an island on an unknown planet and have to confront various aspects of their creation, upbringing, and eventual death, and how the republic treats them
Force journey in which Rex specifically confronts all of these and his role as a captain in the war, along with all the ways life would be different (maybe even better) if heâd had a normal life, if the war never started, and if the clones got rights.
A Jedi Padawan (I was imagining Ahsoka) decides to explore coruscant on their own and comes across a group of early college students all hanging out and doing the things the Padawan would be doing if theyâd led a normal life. In the group is a clone trooper, and while at first the clone tries to ignore the Jedi, eventually he uses their dual anonymity (nobody knows the Padawan is a Jedi, the Padawan doesnât know who exactly the clone is, only some members of the group know heâs a clone) to criticize the Jedi the way he never would have been able to on a ship or base. The Padawan learns first that there are âcommonersâ who are much more aware of the war than theyâd first assumed, and theyâre highly critical of both it and the Republic. They also learn that not all clones look up to the Jedi to the extent the Jedi had been led to believe.
Anakin, Rex, and Ahsoka are on a mission when one of the three gets gravely ill/injured, and itâs up to the other two to a) take care of them and b) get to safety so they can call for a medevac. We can watch rex be ill and have Anakin and Ahsoka argue about what to do, or we can have Ahsoka be ill and watch Anakin and Rex argue with each other. OR anakin will be sick and Rex and Ahsoka argue. Either way itâll be really eye opening about their bonds and sense of friendship. If this happens while Ahsoka is still 14/15, we can see her transition into a more mature and steady-thinking Jedi.
Another version: Anakin AND Rex are sick and Ahsoka is holed up in a cave on a wet planet trying to keep them both alive. Sheâs going out into the forest to hunt what she can, gather water/wood, etc. Rex and Anakin are in and out of consciousness and only partly lucid.
A clone trooper returns to a planet with his squad for another battle, and they go back to the exact same area and the exact same village. His buddies are joking with him about how heâll get to see his sweetheart again and how nice the âreunionâ will be, but heâs just nervous. They touch down and he does in fact see his sweetheart againâand sheâs got a kid. Battle nearly overtakes the village, the two are separated, and the clone is freaking out. The audience and his buddies think itâs because heâs just madly in love with this girl. At the end of the episode we realize that yes, itâs that, but when they reunite while heâs recuperating from being seriously wounded, he takes the child and says âI finally get to meet my kidâ.
We get a peak at the life of a clone whoâd been left for dead on a planet after a disastrous battle: heâs disabled, paralyzed from the waist down, and uses a wheelchair (or the star wars equivalent) to get around a small home he lives in with his husband and two adopted children. Heâs discovered to be a deserter when the republic makes a return visit, and he and his brothers are forced to make a painful choice.
Three clones desert (listen I like deserters) but they deserted on coruscant. Theyâre trapped. They try to make a life for themselves near the bowels of the planet, but theyâre split. The first is headstrong and wants to leave, even if he might die trying. The second is much more hesitant and wants to stay put. They have jobs and an apartment and are starting to make friends in the community. The third is disabled. He canât walk and he gets sick easily, so heâs the one who will be most impacted by their decision.
A clone struggles to hide his force sensitivity while on a mission, but he keeps sending where droids are and he threw a grenade like a mile so the Jedi are starting to get suspicious. His cover is blown when he and his buddies get trapped and he floats the rocks to get them free.
ANOTHER clone (glitch) is force sensitive, loud about it, nobody believes him, and then it turns out heâs right.
clones questioning their roles in the war and their position as living beings in the galaxy, all starting from different places (trans, disabled, mentally ill) and going through their own journeys as their understanding of the Republic changes. They realize that the Republic does not support them the way they should. They attempt to desert. This is more abstract but I like allegories of self-discovery eventually leading to freedom even if it means youâll never view your once-home the same way again. Literally âtruth may enlighten the mind but not always bring happiness to the heartâ.
Anakin attempts a reckless battle stunt that, although successful, nearly gets Rex killed, and does kill two shinies. This is the first major shift in Rexâs opinion of his Jedi General as he is forced into bacta and bedrest, and he has nothing to do but confront his own cognitive dissonance and fend off Anakinâs lacking apologies.
A proper horror arc. Either a Jedi and a team of clones is exploring the caves of a distant planet in search of the survivors of a crash, or Something has made it onto a ship and is wreaking havoc with the systems. Either way, the clones and Jedi are being hunted. Theyâre being watched. They can all feel the creatureâs presence, but itâs picking them off one by one. I would especially love it if the creature was designed like the ones in A Quiet Place.
Murder on a train! This oneâs a bit tropey, but a Jedi and a group of clones are speeding along an open, frigid countryside in a mostly empty train when a passenger on the train is murdered. Bonus points if the accused group is all senators, scientists, etc. types of people with specializations that help or hurt their case.
Two Jedi are tasked with transporting a Separatist (or other) prisoner from Republic space to a hostage trading point. As the two jedi and the prisoner talk, and as they learn more about who theyâre transporting, their contempt growsâbut they have a duty that they canât stray from. the prisonerâs heinous crimes that go beyond what heâd been charged with are out of their jurisdiction. Their ship is attacked, and they and the prisoner run through the ship to get to safety since its so damaged that itâs basically falling apart in space. They come upon a door and send him ahead, telling him its a docking space for escape pods. They donât follow. The door shuts, locking the prisoner insideâhe bangs on the view screen, horrified at the utter apathy with which they stare back at him. The two Jedi abandon the prisoner on the ship, and they watch through an escape pod as it explodes with him on it.
Dead Space - a destroyer (or any ship) is forced to travel through whatâs known as âdead spaceâ, a spot in outerspace that is far from any planets, moons, or suns. ships suffer odd connection/electrical issues when they pass through. superstition says ships disappear off the map here. that isnât quite what happened to this destroyerâit was basically ripped open, one feeble distress signal making its way out before everything went dead. a rescue mission is called and another destroyer goes in search of survivors. zero g, but no obvious heat damage to the hull of the ship. in fact, the ship is completely empty. its more like giant claw marks. the rescue team is being hunted. they get picked off one by one. then the lights on the rescue venator go out. in the dead of space, with nothing but stars to mark the background, a shadow passes
Three clones are walking back drunk from a bar. Some shady bystanders are watching them, but they hardly notice. They had a fun night and now they want to sleep. The number of bystanders increases from two to five, and the clones are viciously attacked, dragged off into an alley. The people who ganged up on them hate clones, and they start making plans about holding them for ransom when one clone manages to get out a call for help. Coruscant guards and police show up and find three badly beaten clones. They all go to the hospital, one is comatose, the other is dead, and the third is too scared to talk. While some Jedi and clones attempt to get information out of him, a legal battle ensues. The clones are not citizens. All the attackers were captured alive, are citizens, havent âdone enoughâ to be charged with terrorism, but the lack of testimony from the surviving clone might end up letting at least one of the attackers get away with murder. This is an arc about clonesâ being people in every way but legally, under the Republic.
A/N: just had an idea of what would happen if Cody had his chip taken out and was able to find Obi-Wan after order 66. Platonic!Cody x Obi-Wan Kenobi
WC: 1k
Warnings: None
*no tag list Bc Iâm formatting on mobile*
âââââââ
The twin suns are especially harsh today as Obi-Wan continues repairs on the small hut he now calls home. Tattoine was the last place he saw himself living out his days, but after Order 66 and the fall of the Jedi orderâŚmany things have changed. The few Jedi that are left were forced into hiding while all of the others he came to know during the war are now under the Empireâs thumb.
Anakin lost to the dark side. Ahsoka nowhere to be found. The clones turned against the very ones who led them, befriended themâŚ
Cody.
He sighs, wiping at the sweat dripping from his brow before reaching for the canteen of water sitting on the ground. He had hoped keeping his hands busy, working on repairs would keep his mind calm. Maker knows he hasnât been able to meditate since it happened. However, it seems his mind wonât settle. Who knows if it ever willâŚ
He sighs, wiping at the sweat dripping from his brow before reaching for the canteen of water sitting on the ground. He had hoped keeping his hands busy, working on repairs would keep his mind calm. Maker knows he hasnât been able to meditate since it happened. However, it seems his mind wonât settle. Who knows if it ever willâŚ
He leans against the wall of the small home, drinking greedily from the metal canteen, grimacing at the taste of the water. Water tastes different on Tatooine. The moisture farmers are never quite able to get rid of all the sand and minerals ingrained in the precious resource.
The slight shifting of sand causes Obi-Wan to pause in his ministrations. Ears perking up as the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The force quivering around him, alerting him to another presence approaching on the other side of the hut.
The last time he even saw another being was months ago when he landed on the sandy planet. A kind ugnaught had directed him to the derelict hut on the outskirts of town. Now, the man canât help the way he is immediately on edge, ready for the person approaching his home to be a threat.
He stands slowly, quietly, in hopes of surprising his visitor before they can surprise him. He can sense their footsteps now, much closer to his front door than before and he moves around to the front of his hut as quick and silent as a loth cat.
Obi-Wan doesnât know what he was expecting. But the sight that greets him as he rounds the front of the small structure ignites a sadness and fear in him heâs only felt once. Deep pools of amber meet cerulean ones as the clone's eyes lock onto his own. The hum of his lightsaber fills his ears as he holds the glowing blade out in front of him instinctively, before the familiar face at his door can react.
âI should have known they would come after me,â Obi-Wan calls, unable to keep the sadness from his voice as he gazes upon his old friend. âIâm just sorry they sent you.â
The clone steps forward, hands in the air, âGeneral, please-â
âIâm not your general!â The Jedi shouts, shocked by the tears he feels welling up in his eyes, âYou made sure of that when you betrayed us. Betrayed me. The Jedi order.â He takes a deep shuddering breath, fighting his grip on the metal hilt of his weapon that is now slick with sweat. âYou were my friend, Cody,â he finally whispers.
The Jedi watches with bated breath as the Clone takes one step forward before dropping to his knees in the shifting sand. Itâs only then does Obi-Wan truly take in the man before him. He is not wearing the standard stormtrooper armor he was expecting. Instead the former republic clone commander wears civilian clothing, ill-fitting ones at that, and looks as if he hasnât had a proper meal in days. He also has a new injury on his right temple, the bandage old and starting to peel at the edges. Finally the clone speaks up, and Obi-Wan finds himself listening.
âYou were my friend too,â he says softly, âAnd I donât know if you even want to hear it, but there is an explanation to everything that happened. It was out of our control-â
âOut of your control?â Obi-Wan has to shove away the anger bubbling up inside his chest, âYou murdered hundreds of innocent people-!â
âI know that!â Cody all but wails, falling forward fingers digging into the sand desperately, âI have lived with what iâve done every. Single. Day. Please, just let me explain and then youâŚâ he takes a deep breath, âYou can do whatever you feel is necessary.â Cody looks up as he finishes and Obi-Wan is struck by the tears swimming in the man's eyes.
And before he can truly think about what heâs doing, the Jedi clicks the switch beneath his thumb, disengaging his weapon.
âStart from the beginning.â
âââââ
Obi-Wan stares at the clone still kneeled before him, utter shock and disbelief coursing through his veins as he absorbs the information presented to him. Order 66. The clones. They didnât turn on the Jedi by choice.
They were forced to, by a chip implanted the moment they were created. Yet another cruel trick to control the men who gave their lives for others.
Cody sniffles, still knelt in the sand, shoulders slumped. âI donâtâŚâ he takes a deep breath, âI donât expect forgiveness. Thatâs not what I came here for. I donât deserve it but-â he looks up, locking eyes with the man standing before him, âI owed it to you. To come out here and explain. I couldnât let you live out your life thinking I betrayed you by choice. I had to at least let you know that I didnât-I couldnât-â
Before the clone could continue, Obi-Wan surges forward, wrapping the former commander in a tight embrace. Ushering a new wave of tears from him.
âThe Jedi donât hold grudges, remember?â Obi-Wan mutters, a small smile tugging at his lips. âItâs good to have you back, Cody.â
Cody wraps his own arms around his old friend tightly, a smile of his own splitting his lips.
Congrats on 100!! đĽđĽł I'm ready to get my heart ripped out, may I request "You can still hear me even though Iâm dead, huh?" With none other than Fives đ
YESSSSS!!!!! I had Fives in mind when we were brainstorming these ideas!!!! OF COURSE you can get some hella angst my friend! Have some Domino twin angst đ(which i've been wanting to write forever)
Echo's hand hurt. It ached. Hell, it burned. But all he saw when he looked down was his prosthetic, not the flesh and blood he was used to. He tried to flex the phantom fingers he felt, but nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, he thought to himself bitterly.
He threw his head into his hands. Every part of him ached. He could feel parts of his different prosthetics digging into the sensitive skin of his body. Nothing he did, nothing, changed that.
"Even in death, I'm the pretty one, huh?"
Echo's head shot up as he looked around his bunk in the Marauder. The others had gone off to get dinner, but he had stayed behind. He legs hurt. His hand hurt. He was in too much pain to go anywhere, and Omega said she'd bring him back his favorite meal. He was alone on the ship.
Then why did I hear him? Echo asked himself. He sighed. Maybe this was all getting too much for him. He eased himself off his bunk and made his way to the 'fresher. Maybe a splash of cold water would make him feel better.
"Huh, could've sworn you'd heart me for a second."
Echo jumped, and, without thinking, "Karking hell, Fives. You can't just sneak up on me like that."
There was silence.
Echo stood there, wavering slightly in his spot, as tears formed in his eyes. He tried, oh Maker he tried, so hard to blink them away, but they couldn't stop. He knew that voice. Yes, it was the same voice as half of his vode, but he knew that particular voice. The snark, the sass, hell he could practically see the smirk.
He didn't notice the tears streaming down his face, pooling at his chin, and dropping in little pitter patters on the ground. He didn't notice he had fallen to the ground. He didn't notice any of it. He didn't particularly care.
"Osik, you can hear me."
It was Fives. Echo knew. He knew it was.
"You can still hear me even though I'm dead, huh?" Fives' disembodied voice mused before barking out a laugh. "Maker, can you believe it, Echo?"
"You're dead," Echo hissed out, the tears never stopping. He closed his eyes as he felt his heart clench. This was too much. Too much. Everything he lost came flooding to him. His hand. His legs. His entire legion, his fucking twin. The tears were endless now, almost burning his face.
Until a coolness brushed over it, something so cold and so soft swiping gently at his cheek. He opened his eyes, half expecting to see Fives above him, smirk and all, but there was only empty air.
"I'm right here, Echo." Fives' voice called. "I'm not going anywhere."
Duuuude! Congrats on 100 followers! If you want, could you do the angst prompt, "âLet go!â with Fives (I'm biased.), and whichever other character(s) you want? Thank you, and congratulations again! @notfivefives
So sorry this is late!!!!! Thank you thank you @notfivefives!!! also not me just realizing i didnt have anon turned on (It's now turned on oops)
You said Fives and of course if I hurt him that means I ALSO hurt Echo because...Domino Twin angst is good (i mean it hurts me to write and to read but goddamn all you Domino Twin angst writers are godsends. Can I get an invite into that party?)
Anyways here's a "Fives dies during the citadel arc, not Echo" fic for ya (edit: uhhhhh yeah so i...mmmm...this is so much longer than originally intended. so sorry!!!)
They were under heavy fire as they ran to the shuttle. Droids flew over head as turrets shot at them from high walls above them. There was nowhere to hide, but that wouldn't stop Fives from trying to give the Jedi as much cover as necessary.
He shot at the droids above him, not bothering with the turrets. His small blaster wouldn't make a dent in them. The droids on mini speeders were too fast, but it did cause them to break formation. He grinned from under his helmet. He had caught them off guard.
The droids flew away and reformed, circling back to fire on them. He watched as they approached, blaster at the ready, and fired, hitting one of the droid's speeders. It fell to the ground and exploded somewhere, but Fives did not let that distract him. There were still other things that needed his attention.
He shifted his focus onto the crab-like droids crawling over the ground toward their group as the Jedi focused on the flying droids--they were much better at that, having the ability to jump into the air and just slash them down with one stroke. The crabs were proving difficult, having stronger metal to their make than the commando droids. He, Echo, and Rex took cover behind a crate, throwing bombs strategically under the droids to take them out.
It was almost too easy.
And then Echo cursed. More commando droids, with shields this time, ran through the blastdoors and onto the platform, firing at them with everything they had. Rex moved from behind the crate and began to blast them, giving Echo cover as he threw a bomb their way. A few droids fell, but it didn't keep them down. They soon regrouped and began blasting them again.
Except one.
One threw its shield down and ran in the opposite direction. Fives watched as it jumped easily over the crates and up the walls of the platform, jumping onto the turret.
"Osik!" Fives cried out.
Echo turned to where Fives was looking, brought the scope down from his helmet and locked onto the droid. He commed the general. "General Skywalker, a droid is manning of those turrets. They're gonna blow up the shuttle, sir."
The droid turned the turret to fire on Skywalker and Piell, hitting their speeder and sending them crashing to the floor. Fives cursed again before turning to his vod.
"This is our only chance," he said as he began to run toward the wall. "We've got to get on the shuttle now!"
Echo followed quickly behind, covering his back. Everyone made their way to the ship, but Fives and Echo ran to the wall the droid had climbed up, bombs strapped to their backs. They hunkered down as they got to the top, staying out of eyesight of the droid. Fives nodded to Echo, and they armed every bomb they had, throwing it onto the turret.
Echo jumped down the side of the wall onto the crates as the turret exploded above him. Without turning around to see if their plan had worked, he ran to the shuttle as fast as he could. They needed to get out of there soon.
As he ran up the ramp, he turned, expecting to see Fives a few steps behind him, but he wasn't there. No, Fives was still at the wall, laying on the ground. Echo tried to run back to him, but Rex grabbed his arm tightly.
Fives groaned, pain shooting through his entire body. He hadn't been able to jump down the wall fast enough before the turret exploded, and the way he had landed on the crate had almost assuredly broken his leg. He had to get up anyway. His twin needed him.
He rolled to his feet uneasily, the pain intensifying as he put his weight on it by accident. Faves swallowed down a cry and began to limp as fast as he could to the shuttle, Echo and Rex trying to give him as much cover as they possibly could.
There was a loud, metallic groan from behind him, and Fives paused and turned. The turret whirred back to life, fully intact, with the partially burned droid operating it. Fives cursed again and began running, ignoring the pain that ran through him with every step, as the shuttle began to lift in the air.
"What are you doing?" Echo cried, as Admiral Tarkin piloted the ship. "He's still down there!"
Tarkin ignored him, the shuttle continuing to increase in elevation.
Echo fell to the floor, reaching out his hand for Fives, and latched on as tightly as he could as the ship and his brother were lifted into the air, Fives dangling off the ramp.
A blast missed the hull of the ship by mere inches, but the droid quickly shifted the guns and shot again, missing once more.
Echo groaned as he tried to pull Fives over the ramp, Rex holding onto him to ensure he didn't fall off.
"We need to pull up the ramp to jump to hyperspace!" Admiral Tarkin cried.
"Not until Fives is onboard," Echo countered. He looked to the Jedi for help, but all of them had been severely injured. They wouldn't be able to help. He tried to lift Fives with one arm, but he couldn't manage.
Fives watched the turret move once more, slowly as the droid tried to aim. He turned to his twin. "Let go!"
Echo's eyes widened. "No! I won't!"
"The turret's going to lock on to you." Fives groaned as he slid in Echo's grasp. "You can't lift me in. You have to go."
Echo shook his head furiously, tears welling in his eyes. "I'm not letting you go, Fives! I'm not losing you too!"
Fives sighed. "You've always been so stubborn."
"I get it from you." Echo retorted, and they both chuckled.
The turret boomed, and Fives let go, his body falling directly into the line of fire.
Echo screamed, he shouted, he cried, but the others pulled him away from the ramp as it closed, and Tarkin flew them into hyperspace.
âDo you play?â She asks, tilting her head at the guitar discarded at the foot of the bed, half-forgotten beneath books and sheets of paper. What she means is; will you play for me?
It had been so long since sheâd sung the song of the heavens, heard the music of the moon. She felt as though she might beg the skies to play her a tune if only to cling to that bit of melody still residing within the ghostly caverns of her immortal bones.
You look at the instrument, coated in a fine film of dust as though it were no more than a ghost of an interest youâd once possessed. âOh, thatâŚâ you begin, ready to dismiss it as something youâd tried once and swiftly given up. Then you see the gleam in her brown eyes, the gentle smile on her lips as she regards you with intense interest. You canât deny the wide-eyed, almost pleading look, even to save yourself the embarrassment. So you huff a soft chuckle and reach for the guitar, brushing it off as you cling awkwardly to it, as though the tighter you hold the better it might sound. It felt unfamiliar within your grasp, the strings coarse and tough from disuse. You strum a few dissonant notes that hang unceremoniously in the air for a moment before falling into silence. She nods encouragingly, her smile ever present as she waits expectantly. So you try again, managing a few chords, or mangling them at least. She begins to hum along, softly at first as though she fears to break the quiet that accompanied the poorly played chords. You pluck a little faster, a little louder, trying vainly to create some semblance of song as her voice climbs the peak of notes. It soars as she seems to let loose whatever hold she had, her eyes fluttering shut as though the act of singing brought an undeterred joy from the depths of her star-lit heart. You marvel at the melody that curls from her mouth, staring unabashedly at her as though she were a siren claiming your heart with her song.
The stars seem closer, as though they, too, were drawn to the sound of her singing. They fill the room, the night sky assembled amongst the bookshelves and furniture like an intangible tapestry. Still you are unable to tear your eyes away from her face, the galaxy seemingly wrought upon her timeless skin too. The guitar fades out, lost in the beauty of her song as your hands hang limp. The rise and fall of her harmony lifts you, you float upon the river of her refrain. No words are uttered by her lips; there are no words needed, for she sings the song of her moon from a time where language itself did not exist.
And then it is over. The room falling silent, bereft. You blink, as though waking from a pleasant sleep, and find her staring out at the night sky, far in the distance above. She seems peaceful now, a secret smile settled on her lips.
âThat was nice,â she murmurs. What she means is; thank you for letting me live again.
Yes I know this gif is l of him in armor but Iâm running out of gif choices lol
(Gif by @bobafettdaily)
A/N: part 2 is finally here! And I am going to go ahead and tag @princessbatears as brainstorm buddy/almost co-creator Bc she has helped me SO much with creating this story and keeping me on track. I was in such a slump before I talked to her and she is a huge reason this part is even completed! So I hope you all enjoy!
Word count: 3k
Warnings: public discomfort/embarrassment, intimidation, mentions of killing/death non-descriptive, fluff, slight angst.
The clinking of silverware against ceramic plates seems deafening in the silence that permeates your small kitchen. You have so many questions running through your mind. Most of them had spewed out last night after the baffling phone call you overheard. A phone call you were starting to think you either made up completely or misunderstood completely, something understandable due to the concussion you have.Â
However, Boba had promised to explain the next morning after you both got some much needed rest. You had agreed, crawling off of him from where you two had shared a heated kiss, and walking back to your room. You remember wishing him goodnight, biting your tongue to keep from asking him if heâd rather share your bed than sleep on the lumpy couch, before shutting the door behind you.
That brings you here. Sitting at your kitchen table eating a thrown together breakfast of eggs, toast, and coffee because the last thing you were expecting was to have guests. You had barely touched the food that you had made for yourself and the man sitting across from you. Your toast was soggy from too much butter and your eggs were cold and strewn across your plate by your absentminded fiddling.Â
âYou need to eat, princess,â Boba finally speaks, the familiar soft baritone finally piercing the silence, âGet your strength back.â
Sometime I think about Jesse post the inhibitor chip arc. Jesse, who probably saw Kix when he came out of the âfresher at 79s and probably confided in him about seeing Fives. Jesse, who probably shrugged it off in exhaustion, trying to enjoy his leave and thinking about how the last plan from Fives almost lead to his execution. Jesse, who would lose yet another brother when Fives died, a slight guilt wracking his brain. Jesse, who would then lose Kix all of a sudden, leaving him the last of his group. He had Rex, sure. But Rex seemed troubled as of late, like the war is finally taking its toll on him.
Jesse, who gets promoted to ARC Trooper, and just tries do his duty. Jesse, who loses all control when the chip activates, and has to point a gun at the last of his group.
He's screaming on the inside, crying himself hoarse beneath a façade that is not his own. The howl claws it's way up his throat but his mouth is closed, his face is expressionless.
The last of them stands before him, reasoning with him but to no avail. Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on, otherwise he'd see the faces of all their brothers they'd lost before.
Hardcase who died for a hollow victory.
Fives who was shot by one of their own.
Kix who had disappeared without a trace, cast aside by a Republic that did not care about one single life.
They'd all be written in the deep brown of Rex's eyes, in the lines on his tawny skin.
Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on.
His hands are steady, alien, foreign. His voice does not belong to him and nor do his thoughts. At least not the ones that matter. This silent voice, that belongs to him but it is no use now, no matter how much it shouts.
It was just the two of them now, from a group that dwindled in the twilight of the war. Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on, he wouldn't be able to look his last brother in the face.
Sometime I think about Jesse post the inhibitor chip arc. Jesse, who probably saw Kix when he came out of the âfresher at 79s and probably confided in him about seeing Fives. Jesse, who probably shrugged it off in exhaustion, trying to enjoy his leave and thinking about how the last plan from Fives almost lead to his execution. Jesse, who would lose yet another brother when Fives died, a slight guilt wracking his brain. Jesse, who would then lose Kix all of a sudden, leaving him the last of his group. He had Rex, sure. But Rex seemed troubled as of late, like the war is finally taking its toll on him.
Jesse, who gets promoted to ARC Trooper, and just tries do his duty. Jesse, who loses all control when the chip activates, and has to point a gun at the last of his group.
He's screaming on the inside, crying himself hoarse beneath a façade that is not his own. The howl claws it's way up his throat but his mouth is closed, his face is expressionless.
The last of them stands before him, reasoning with him but to no avail. Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on, otherwise he'd see the faces of all their brothers they'd lost before.
Hardcase who died for a hollow victory.
Fives who was shot by one of their own.
Kix who had disappeared without a trace, cast aside by a Republic that did not care about one single life.
They'd all be written in the deep brown of Rex's eyes, in the lines on his tawny skin.
Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on.
His hands are steady, alien, foreign. His voice does not belong to him and nor do his thoughts. At least not the ones that matter. This silent voice, that belongs to him but it is no use now, no matter how much it shouts.
It was just the two of them now, from a group that dwindled in the twilight of the war. Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on, he wouldn't be able to look his last brother in the face.
Summary: Stranded orbiting Lothal, Rigel and Sirius talk in the starlight.
Word count: 1.2k
A/N: Here it is!! My first one shot regarding my OCs, Rigel and Sirius!! I hope you'll all like it, this is all soft and a bit emotional :3
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A mild chill took over Rigelâs fingertips. Bared and ungloved unlike the rest of her hand, with the exception of the very center of her palm to let the crescent moon tattoos shine through, she knew theyâd be going numb soon enough.
Power had been diverted to the Y-wingâs heating systems, just enough to not run out of fuel immediately, meaning all other systems had to be shut down. The debris had knocked them far enough away from the course of any more rubble and satellites orbiting Lothal, so at least Rigel knew theyâd be safe from anything else. The ship no longer spun on its own axis, instead finding a steady, slow course with the top of the canopy directly facing the planet, imposing and glorious as it loomed above.
Rigel closed her eyes. Having felt a disturbance in the Force upon jumping out of hyperspace hadnât been a coincidence, but then, it never was. With a deep exhale, she grounded her mind to the present moment. The beeping of the oxygen monitor beeped at its constant tempo while all whirring had all but died down; the utter silence of space made for easy meditation so long as oneâs mind was not troubled.
âI donât know how you do that so easily.â
The Nameless captain knew he was interrupting her meditating, but he did so with a cheeky grin. Rigelâs lips curved, a chuckle escaping her as she shifted and turned around in her seat to face back, where her clone partner sat in the second, separate cockpit that held the turret controls of the Y-wing. His voice had been muffled by the vocoder of the ship, though it felt odd to Rigel for it to be that way when he was essentially right in front of her. Their gazes met, the eyes of two people lost together, as dismal smiles bloomed in their features.
âHowâs it looking?â the captain broke the silence once more.
Rigel didnât have to look at the comms to know there were no new updates. Instead, she found more comfort in the captainâs left eye and the way its fiery hue jumped above all other perks he had. The moonstone at the center of her headband had a similar effect on him, grounding the war-hardened trooper in what seemed like a hopeless time.
âDo you think theyâll come?â He asked.
Rigel faced out the cockpit, her gaze getting lost in the sea of stars. Sheâd sent the comm easily two hours back, as soon as the satellite had hit the shipâs left engine and set them on the course of their current fate. Reasonably, no one sheâd tried to contact was within quick distance of hearing the message and retrieving them in a short lapse of time, but the commâs strength of signal was already very low due to the shipâs condition. Even she had to admit it would be a miracle for Master Plo or anyone else in the GAR to have heard.
âWe canât lose hope,â Rigel spoke. âNot even in a time like this.â
âItâs a good thing I trust you, then, general.â
Rigel chuckled, her gaze averting form the clone captain. âIâm not a general yet.â
âSoon,â smiled the Nameless captain as he too looked out at the vast ocean of space. Silence flooded the small ship once more as the trooper and the Jedi attempted to quiet down their minds equally. Rigelâs thoughts digressed onto every word Nameless had spoken until then, and at last, her lips were curved once more by a faint smile with her eyes set on a nearby star, one that shone brightest among the others.
âIâve done it since I was little,â she was the one to break the silence then, bringing Namelessâ gaze to her again from the rear turret cockpit, his eyes quizzical.
âMeditating,â Rigel continued, her gaze not leaving the star yet. âItâs how I got so good at it. Iâve been doing it forever, I could do it surrounded by battle droids.â
Nameless chuckled. âMeditating was never my thing, but when it comes to firing a blaster, thatâs where Iâm afraid Iâll top you.â
âI really hope thatâs a challenge, captain,â Rigel laughed softly. âOr have you forgotten every time you and I have charged into the battlefield?â
âWouldnât charge with anyone else,â he replied.
Rigelâs smile brightened slightly. âSo what else did you do on Kamino?â
He hesitated, and a dark tone filled his voice. âTrain. Fight. Grow. We were bred for war and itâs all weâve ever known.â
âThe Jedi werenât made for war, but for peace,â Rigel said. âAnd yet, weâre now leading a war.â
âHow do you feel about that?â
She tore her eyes from the star and once again turned around to lay her gaze on the Nameless captain.
âNot great, honestly,â she admitted. âBut I feel a lot of things regarding the matter⌠regarding the Jedi code.â
âYouâll sort it out, general,â said the captain.
Rigel appreciated the confidence he had in her, which more than one time, sheâd lacked in herself. It always comforted her to believe and know that she could fall back on him. As she looked upon him, Rigel felt with certainty the unmistakable bond, one which she probably wouldnât go around saying at the Jedi temple.
There were simply some people youâd violate every clause in the Jedi code for.
Silently, the Jedi looked out at the star once more. Her mind spiraled until one thought climbed above all others, and confidently, she smiled.
âWhy have you gone nameless up until now?â She asked.
âNo reason in particular,â he responded.
âDid you know Iâm named after a star?â She said. âNot far from Ryloth, itâs the brightest star in its sky.â
Rigel stared off into the vastness, the bright blueish dot prominent and lighting the endless darkness, its name echoing back and forth within her mind.
âI want to name you,â she finally said.
The captainâs eyebrows raised as confusion riddled him. While his brothers had often rushed and craved a name, it was never something that concerned him, but the moment Rigel brought it up stirred his very soul, forced a familiar warmth into his body, one heâd need in the stranded ship in the middle of the emptiness of the galaxy.
âHow?â His voice was quiet, and barely audible through the shipâs comms. One more time, Rigel looked upon him, a kind smile enhancing her features.
âSirius.â
The name rung within his ears at the first time hearing it, and against his will, he began to smile as he went nameless no more.
âSirius,â he repeated. âThank you, Rigel.â
As she smiled kindly at him, the shipâs proximity sensor began to beep frantically. Nothing was in sight, and for a moment Rigel feared undesirable company had arrived, but as it turned out, a medium Republic cruiser jumped out of hyperspace not too far from the stranded Y-wing. Rigel and Sirius smiled at the sight.
âLooks like weâre getting out of here,â she said.
âAlways count on general Plo to help us out,â Sirius followed.
The cruiser approached the crippled Y-wing and began bringing them in with its tractor beam, finally casting a shade of peace over the duo inside. Before the Y-wing was inside, Rigel and Sirius exchanged a quick look, both of them hopeful and just a tad closer than when they had first left on that ill-executed recon.
Summary: After the war, a warrior heads out across the stars on a revenge quest. The objective seems simple: kill the men who slaughtered her family. However, she makes a powerful enemy upon her success. With a target on her back, she desperately searches for allies around the galaxy. As she prepares for war against a mysterious and deadly enemy, he offers her an ultimatum: Hand over his son, and he will give her something invaluable.
Fandom: Star Wars
WC: 5,000+
Warnings: see tags for series warnings
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
The sky had been threatening rain for hours, and it seemed that it may finally make good on that threat as the trees bent to reveal the underside of their leaves. Wind whipped through the meadow, roughly tossing the grasses and grains about. The crash of waves against cliffs echoed in the distance, complimenting the howl of the wind. A lone figure stood resolute in the middle of the field, looking out at the dark clouds rolling in over the sea. Dressed in dark armor, they were hardly distinguishable against the backdrop of the somber sky. From a distance, a townâs boy fast approached the individual, his face pink from the exertion and eyes watering from the bite of the wind.
âI-I was told to find you. Mister Zeru says he will negotiate over call, tonight.â
The individual turned to address the boy, âLet your master know that I will be meeting with him now, not tonight.â
The boy stood mystified by the figure in black armor as he looked up at the impassive helmet with the infamous t-shaped visor. He had likely never seen a Mandalorian before. Since the end of the war, they were a rare sight. Anymore, to come across a Mandalorian was an omen of ill fate.
âErmâMister Zeru also wants me to tell you that you owe him⌠f-for the mess yesterday. He says itâs not easy to get blood out of carpet.â
The Mandalorian kneeled to look the boy in the eye, âI have a favor to ask of you. Could you run ahead and tell Zeru that he either answers to me, or to the Imp hunters.â Zeru was not at liberty to call the shots, not anymore.
The boy simply blinked at the mercenary as he stood there, immobile and eyes as large as small planets. A dead silence filled the air between them as the hunter waited for a response. The Mandalorian could not place whether the boy was more afraid of them or of returning to Zeru. He gave the hunter a shaky nod and took off toward the town.
The town was not much to write home about. Located on a small planet called Rhonu in the Outer Rim, the townâs main source of income was traffic coming off the Perlemian Trade Route. Most of the people stopping over needed a place to stay and let off steam as they headed toward the core. They tended to not stick around very long. There has always been a constant rotation of motel guests, bar patrons, and clientele at the Twiâlek bath house. No one would notice another lone traveller, especially a hunter. The planet has long been a retreat for bounty hunters, even before the Separatists controlled it some twenty-five years ago. Normally, a heavy Guild presence would be reason enough to avoid the planet, but the promise of finishing old business superseded any past grievances with the Guild.
Imperial troops once frequented the place in droves whenever they had time off, squandering away whatever money they made; their skill at Sabacc as famous as their aim. With the dissolution of the Empire and the New Republicâs crackdown on smuggling and spice running, the place has become a virtual ghost town. But there were still a couple of Imps hiding out in the dark recesses of the town. They scattered to the wind and Outter Rim when word of Jakku reached the ears of leadership. Now theyâre the ones hiding like rats. With new galactic leadership, remnant Imps like Zeru tended to be bad for the bounty hunting business unless they were the bounty themselves. On this planet, the only thing a hunter needed to worry about was someone else coming in and snatching the target.
The Mandalorian stepped toward the bath house, blaster at the ready. Next door, the scent of burned Sansanna spice wafted from a back-room window of the cantina. It mixed wonderfully with the sharp scent of piss in the alley. The door to the bath house was obscured, hidden away down a thin backstreet. There was already something disgraceful about those who take advantage of Zeruâs business, but the walk there made it all that more profane. It was like someone was supposed to enter feeling soiled and violated. Yet, someone went through the absurd trouble of trying to scrub graffiti off the wall. Inside, billowing steam obscured the mercenaryâs view, distorting the figures in the room. The air was humid and smelled faintly of body odor and incense. For certain visitors, the Twiâlek bath house was the most noteworthy destination in town. Frequent fliers from the guild and a couple syndicates visited the place often enough to be on a first name basis with the owner of the bath house, Caran Zeru, and his business associate, Lian Qu.
âHey handsome, what can I do you for,â a blue Twiâlek asked as she emerged from the steam. She strolled toward the hunter, drawing intimately close. The mercenary took a step back, only to run into a chair, nearly toppling.
âWhere is Zeru,â the hunter demanded.
âCâmon, we donât haveâta talk business right now,â she dragged her hand along the mercenaryâs armor.
âNo,â the Mandalorian stayed her hand, âWhere is Zeru?â
âIâI canât tell you that,â she whispered. The hunter shifted past the Twiâlek and she grabbed the mercenaryâs arm, tight, âI canât let you in either.â She paused and looked over at the masked guest, âHeâll kill me if I do.â
âWell, you canât tell me, but Qu can.â
Her eyes went wide. âPlease, no.â
âHeâs in here, right,â the mercenary pointed to the room numbered âone.â The hunter threw the door open and strode inside. One of the occupants shrieked. In the dim light, the Mandalorian watched them scramble in a panic.
Lian Qu was a surprisingly portly Zygerrian. Rumor said he has a strange fondness for knives, collecting them from planets he helped the Empire enslave. The man had always had an unhealthy obsession for Twiâlek women and he supposedly owns a disproportionate number of knives from Ryloth. Fifteen years ago, he entered into business with Zeru. It did not take long for Zeru to realize that Qu is an incredibly vulgar man with little regard for sanitation, which contrasted with Zeruâs âhigh-endâ vision for the business. Zeru relegated his new business partner to the back-of-house operations until Qu started âdamaging the product.â Silently, Zeru pushed his old business partner out of the business. To appease the old Zygerrian, Zeru promised him plenty of time with his favorite girl, Tani, a teal Twiâlek they bought before the Alliance even had a name. Every afternoon, room number one was alway reserved for the two.
Qu stood three rifle lengths away with Tani struggling against his grip on her arm. He had grabbed a chair and held it out like he was trying to stop a wild animal from attacking. The hunter watched Qu realize that a chair was not going to be effective against a Mandalorian.
âIf you move, I kill her, yâhear?â
âIâm not here to hurt you.â
âWellâyour dramatic entrance says otherwise. Yâkicked down my door like you own the place.â
âIâm here to talk.â The Mandalorian spun around and used a grappling line to hook the chair in the hallway and drag it into the room. With the flourish of a cape, the hunter then sat down across from Qu. âPlease, sit,â the mercenary offered, gesturing to Quâs chair.
Lian threw Tani to the side and forcefully yanked his chair to the center of the room. The two stare at each other in silence for a minute. âAlrightâIâm sitting. What do you want?â
âTruthfully? To speak with Zeru. But heâs been hiding behind women and children.â
âLooking for the bounty on his head?â
âIt is a large bounty.â
âEven larger if you keep him alive.â
âI know. Iâm surprised you havenât turned on him yet.â
âIâm not telling you where he is, if thatâs what youâre suggesting.â
âYouâre loyalty is admirable, but I know heâs somewhere in this maze of a bathhouse. I will find him and I have no problem tearing this place to the ground in the process. Iâd just prefer this not get messy.â
Qu sat back and appeared to contemplate this for a second. âSo I either let you haul my partner away or you tear my business down?â The hunter did not respond and instead let Qu marinate in the silence. The man began to squirm under the mercenaryâs gaze as he failed to come to a decision, but the Mandalorian did not budge. Silence was a powerful motivator. âI donât think so,â the Zygerrian decided. His eyes went dark. There was a bloodthirsty excitement in his cruel smile. Qu leapt up and grabbed Tani by her left lek. He yanked her in front of him, prompting her to scream out in pain. âYou wonât take them from me. If I canât have them, then no one can.â He dragged the spine of one of his knives along Taniâs exposed neck.
The twiâlek in the hall screeched in horror and lurched toward her friend. The hunter held out a hand to keep her away. âPlease, go collect your sisters.â Men like Qu and Zeru were the reactionary sort, driven by emotion. The mercenary expected them to be irrational and difficult, but not this willing to escalate things so quickly.
âLetâs take a breath; see reason.â
âBack out of the room or I kill everyone here.â
âLian, this doesnât need to get messy, just tell meââ
âBack. Away.â
The hunter stood slowly, keeping Qu in eyesight. With a nod and a placating gesture, the mercenary began to back out of the room. Tani met the Mandalorian with a blank stare. Any spirit left her as she reserved herself to a dire fate.
âYah,â Lian sighed as he looked down at Tani with ominous affection. âI donât want my best girl to get hurt.â Qu lessened his grip on her lek and the knife dropped from her neck as he relaxed to kiss her cheek. Tani closed her eyes as she tried to turn her cheek away, distracting Qu and providing the mercenary with an opportunity. The Mandalorian decided to take advantage of the opening and in the thick steam of the hall, took aim. When the poison dart hit the Zygerrian, Qu went rigid and slumped to the floor with a thud. He was dead on the spot.
Tani sprung back. She scrambled to a far corner and shielded herself from the Mandalorian, holding her lek close. âMy quarrel isnât with you,â the Mandalorian remarked. Kneeling over Quâs dead body, the hunter pulled the dart from Quâs neck. âThis is a⌠deeply personal matter.â
âIf this was personal, then what happens when youâre indifferent?â
âIâm not nearly as sloppy,â the hunter stated dryly.
âWhy have you come, really?â
âZeru has something I need and I canât leave without it.â
âThe bounty?â
âNo. Information.â
Tani looked up to find the Mandalorian offering her a hand. She took the outstretched hand and the mercenary pulled her up. âWhat do my sisters and I do? Zeru will kill us all.â
âI took these off Quâs body,â the mercenary showed Tani a small data card and an extracting rod. Tani grabbed the card and waved it across the shock collar on her neck, causing it to open and fall off.
âIf you could,â she pointed at her neck near the base of her skull. The Mandalorian held the rod to her neck, not much further from where Qu had held his knife. With the click of a button, a needle penetrated Taniâs skin and slowly dragged out a small, blinking chip.
âIâd hurry. You have many sisters.â There was a gentle note to the mercenaryâs voice as Tani grabbed the extracting rod.
âZeru hides in a room named âmaintenance.â Youâll find it in the second wing. Take a right, then two lefts.â
The hunter gave her an encouraging nod, turned and strode down the hall, disappearing within the steam. Bath house workers kept to the edges of the hall, consciously clear of the mercenary. Occasional clients scurried into rooms to hide away like snitmice. At the end of the long hallway in the second wing sat a room with the word âmaintenanceâ etched into the wooden door in Outer Rim Basic. The door was slightly ajar, so the mercenary proceeded with caution. The room appeared empty at first glance, but the heat signature said otherwise. Zeru cowered under a desk in the corner. The Mandalorian swept to the other end of the room and drug Zeru out.
âIâm a reasonable man. Surely we can come to some sort of agreement?â
Zeru was a spindly man of little talent and a lot of fear. He joined the empire for the prestige. A small man of few principles, Zeru rose in the ranks through shallow ambition and selfish motive alone. As an officer, he was introduced to the intergalactic slave trade. It took little to convince him to begin trafficking war captives across the galaxy. He helped the Empire commit a number of atrocities throughout the galaxy, including the Mid Rim planet of Jiroch. After the blaster fire ceased, Zeru and his men would kidnap natives for the slave industry with the help of locals or crime syndicates. Over thirty years, they trafficked tens of thousands of young women and children. When the Empireâs power wavered, Zeru began to dedicate himself to the slave trade full time. It made him more money; gave him more power.
The mandalorian sat Zeru in the desk chair and wrapped him up with a whipcord. âCaran Zeru,â the hunter greeted, then sat on the desk and loomed over the slaver.
âYou want something other than the bounty, donât you? Otherwise youâd be hauling me off by now.â
âIf Iâm being honest, I want to paint the wall with your entrails.â
Zeru made a face. âYour kind may be heathens, but you wouldnât really kill a bounty. Too greedy for that.â
âThe bounty is dead or alive.â
âYet you havenât killed me.â
âFifteen years ago, the empire invaded the planet Jiroch. Your men picked up two children.â
âWait, you cornered me to ask about a couple slaves I sold over a decade ago?â
âDonât interrupt me, you wonât like the consequences,â the Mandalorian paused, âand trust me, youâll remember this.â
Zeru shrugged and looked away.
âThe ship you put them on crash landed. You lost your best friend and best slaver in that crash.â
Zeru gave the hunter a knowing side eye, âAhâyouâre asking about those Mando kids. Only the girl was on the ship when it crashed. If youâre looking for her, youâre wasting your time. She died in that crash.â
âIâm well aware what happened to her. Iâm looking for information on the boy.â
âWhat if I refuse to tell you?â
âIâll kill you.â
âAnd what assurances do I have that you wonât kill me if I do tell you?â
A resounding silence filled the room as the hunter did not respond. Zeru squirmed.
âFine,â he spat, âwe had a deal with the Pykes, so my men were headed to Oba Diah, but they touched down to refuel on a planet with a heavy Imperial presence. The Guild had a long history there too.â
âSysniam?â
âMaybe.â
The Mandalorian unholstered a short, curved dagger and held it under Zeruâs chin. It caught the dim light coming through one of the only windows in the bathhouse. âDonât make this difficult,â the hunter grit out, pressing the blade dangerously close to Zeru's carotid.
Zeru swallowed. âYah, Sysniam. My men reported in that the boy was giving them difficulties. He ran, then someone killed two of my men and absconded with him. Pretty sure it was some Imperial bounty hunters, if not Imperial troops themselves. I know they were fixing to purge the galaxy of Mandalorians around that time. But I donât know any more than that.â
âThis was a dead end,â the Mandalorian carefully holstered the dagger, stood up and started toward the door. The hunter turned back around to face Zeru, âDid they report what the bounty hunter looked like?â
Zeru looked away.
âI can make this very painful for you.â
âThe only people who got a good look are dead.â
âWell, if youâre no useââ
âNo, wait. Wait,â Zeru continued to squirm under his restraints. âMy men called for back up. They were, ermâoutnumbered, and frantic. Their calls reported at least ten hostiles surrounding them. Iâtwo of my men tried escaping with the boy when their comms cut out. The hostiles cleared the area and when my men called in, they reported two dead. We assumed the hostiles made off with the kid.â
âWhat makes you think they killed the kid?â
âThey put him in the line of fire. What about that says they had his safety in mind?â
âYou assumed they were Imperial, why?â
âTheir precision and skill. They werenât ordinary bounty hunters, they were too organized. Although, one of my men thought they were Hutt bounty hunters. The Hutts did tend to recruit the best.â
âWhat would give him that impression? Sysniam is too close to Pyke territory for the Huttâs hunters.â
âWell, he said they called them, âHutt-in.â Itâs not Huttese, so I assumed that Imperials mistook my men for Hutts.â
âHutâuun?â
âSomething like that, yah.â
The mercenary stopped and considered this for a moment, âThatâs all I need,â then headed for the door.
âYou canât leave me here like this.â
âYes I can,â the hunter turned to face Zeru.
âIf you donât let me go, I will detonate this place before you can get through the door.â The Mandalorian unholstered a blaster and pointed it at Zeru. âYou canât shoot me. I have powerful friends. The Pykesââ
âI know.â
There was a manic quality to Zeruâs nervous laugh, but his face fell as the Mandalorian stood resolute, âY-you promised.â
âI donât make promises.â The room filled with the bright red light of blaster fire and Zeru slumped over, a hole burnt straight through his forehead. âThatâs for my parents, you bastard.â The hunter swept from the room. The halls were now silent as clients disappeared and the women collected themselves. Steam had cleared from the area, leaving the halls cold and dark. The brutality of the concrete walls left the place with the feeling of an Imperial prison, but the grime left the place with a similar obscene atmosphere as the alley. Around the corner, the hunter happened upon the main bath. The stark, clean tone provided an almost jarring contrast from the rest of the facility. A lewd mural of happy Twiâleki women on the back wall displayed the sort of cognitive dissonance only an Imperial sympathizer was capable of. Several Twiâlek and Togruta women congregated to the far side. Tani rushed into the room with a handful of more girls.
âWhat now? Where do we go?â
âThat⌠is a fantastic question.â An uneasy silence filled the air as the women stared expectantly at the hunter.
âDo you have a ship that can get off this rock,â Tani asked.
âI have a ship sitting in the south fields.â
Tani stood there, anticipation in her eyes. âOkay, so⌠we leave on the ship with you, right?â
âErmâit will be snug. But, I suppose, if I move a few things, everyone might fit inside.â
âWonderful. You can take us to Coruscant,â she suggested.
âOhâI donât have the money for more than one jump. Inflationâs a bitch and fuel prices are through the roof since the end of the war,â the hunter stopped and took inventory of the room. From behind the women, the boy from the field stole small glances of the stranger. None of these people had anywhere to go and they would never be free stuck on Rhonu. âButâI need to stop on Chandrila. There are programs there for refugees, you can always catch transport to Coruscant from there. Itâs not a promise, but it is an offer.â
Tani looked back at the women with an encouraging half-smile. âDoes that work for everyone,â she asked like the women had much of a choice on where they got dropped off. The women stared back like Gallaze in the hyperdrive of a sublight engine. âWell, weâll collect ourselves and anything we need and meet you out there.â
The hunter gave her an encouraging nod and turned toward the exit. The alley was still assaulting and degrading, but now disappointment filled the mercenaryâs mind. There was an expectation that maybe something would change with Zeruâs death. It was asinine to muse that this trip would be transformational. The hunter chose a dangerous mission for the sake of petty revenge.
A couple of Trandoshan hunters in heavy armor stood guard at the cantina and lazily watched the Mandalorian stride down the street. Wide-eyed, anxious vendors tried concealing themselves as they stared the mercenary down. The sooner they get off this planet, the better. There was nothing worse than judgmental yet complacent locals.
The ship stood on the horizon among the tall grasses of the plains. There was a stirring sound in the grasses as the Mandalorian approached the ship. A presence was hiding nearby, waiting.
âWhoever you are, I know youâre behind me.â The hunter reached toward a thigh holster for a pistol. For a charged moment, there was only silence. The Mandalorian held still and listened, scanning the area. The crunch of dead grass gave the stalkerâs position away. Thank Kad it had not yet rained. The hunter turned on the stalker, blaster at the ready.
The wide-eyed, flustered boy from earlier screamed. He threw his hands in the air. âOh, donât shoot,â he urged.
Holstering the gun, the Mandalorian sighed. âNever sneak up on someone. Itâs a sure way to end up dead.â
âI didnât end up dead.â
âDonât push your luck, kid.â
âIs it true you killed Qu and Zeru?â
âWho says?â
âTani.â
âWell, Taniâs right, so you should leave me alone.â
"Your knife is cool."
"Erm--thanks," the hunter replied lamely. They both glanced over at the dagger strapped to the utility belt.
âAre you a real Mandalorian?â
The hunter hesitated, âYes. Look, kid, just⌠scram. Donât invite me any trouble, âkay?â
The boy nodded vigorously, but instead took a seat among the grasses while the Mandalorian swept into the ship and returned with a case of armaments for the cargo hold.
âDo you get lonely on that ship,â the boy asked, suddenly right beside the mercenary.
âNo.â
âOh, okay. Mister Zeru told me that all men get lonely, and thatâs why he liked me to stay close to him.â
The Mandalorian dropped the case of armaments, spilling its contents. âIâm notâ hold up⌠what?â
The kid shrugged and started ripping up grass. âDâyou think I could make a grass hat?â
âI-I suppose,â the Mandalorian replied, righting the case and dropping the guns back into it.
âWhat happened to your leg?â
The mercenary looked down at the one leg that looked a little thinner than the other and knew the kid was referring to the rather obvious cybernetic leg. âAâermâ ship crash. When I was not much older than yourself.â The boy gasped.
âIâego,â a voice called out. The both of them looked up to see Tani. âWhatâre you doing here?â
âI wanted to see the Mandalorian. My mom told me to stay away, says theyâre omens of death.â
âWell, you should head back. Sheâs going to start wondering where you ran off to.â
âIs it true you guys never remove your helmets?â
âHome, now,â Tani scolded.
Iâego lurched off the ground with a dramatic sigh and began lumbering back toward town.
âYouâre gonna want to be quick about it if you donât want to get caught in the rain,â Tani called out, and the kid broke out into a run.
The Mandalorian emerged from the ship with another box. âWhoâs the kid,â the mercenary prompted.
âHis mother tends the cantina. They live in town.â
âWe donât have to worry about him, do we?â
âNo, heâs safe now that Zeruâs dead.â
âThatâs not what I mean.â
âHeâs just a kid.â
âAnd one of the few people who knows where weâre going.â
âI wonât let you touch a hair on his head.â There was a resolve in Taniâs voice, but a gleam of panic in her face, like she feared she would have to fight a loosing battle.
The Mandalorian stopped sliding the crate into the cargo hold and glared at Tani. âI may be a murderer, but Iâm not deranged. Iâm not about to kill a kid, if thatâs what youâre suggesting.â
Tani crossed her arms and looked away to watch as a slow stream of women began to make their way to the field.
âLook,â the mercenary prompted, âZeru has friends. If they come looking for him, all theyâll find is the boy.â
âHeâs still just a kid.â
âAnd when they found you, you were too.â
âWell now the Empireâs gone.â
âYahâsure seems like it.â The hunter sighed, âIâm not gonna argue this, Tani. If his family isnât coming, thatâs it. Iâm not gonna to force them.â
The sky finally decided to open up, starting with large plops of water that prompted the women to hurry inside. Once Tani confirmed that all the women were aboard, the hunter decided to do one last sweep of the ship, making sure everything was in order. Heavy rain obscured the view of the surrounding field and even the range of the mercenaryâs thermal imaging. Something felt off as the mercenary scanned the field. It was not until the hunter rounded the ship that the thermal imaging picked up a strange heat signature next to the boarding ramp.
âCan I help you,â the Mandalorian called out above the crash of the rain.
A cloaked man turned to look at the hunter. âCan I join yâall.â His speech was slurred and the mercenary wondered if he was drunk.
âIâm not a taxi service. Catch the next spice freight out.â
âYâknow, I asked âem men at the cantina, âwhy does the Mando get to âave all the fun, what gives âim the right,â yâknow? But I thought to mâself, well, that ainât fair. Those girls make this town good money. But they told me I best leave you alone, âcause you killed two men today.â
âThey were right. Now, get out of my way.â
âI wonâ stand for this. And neither will Xyrus.â
âI donât care.â When the Mandalorian made to push past the man, he grabbed hold of the hunterâs right shoulder and pushed. The mercenary stared at the hand resting on the spaulder before meeting the manâs eyes. Even in the pouring rain, the mercenary could see the fear in his eye. Maybe it finally dawned on him that he was staring down an omen. The man shrieked when the Mandalorian grabbed hold of his arm and twisted it backwards until it snapped. Pain contorted the manâs face as the hunter moved in close. The man took in a jagged gasp. âI said: âGet out of my way,ââ the mercenary repeated lowly before flipping him over the side of the ship and stunning him with a blaster.
The hunter strode up the platform and closed the door, insulating them from the rain. A room of women turned and blinked at the Mandalorian. âOkay⌠Getting off this rock is gonna be quick and rough. Strap in or hold on.â Turning on foot, the hunter disappeared into the cockpit. Tani shoved her way past the door before the Mandalorian had the chance to close it. Wind and rain aggressively beat against the ship, causing Tani to lose her balance and fall into a passenger seat.
âMaybe we should wait for the storm to pass?â
âIâve taken off in worse,â the hunter replied, priming the ship for takeoff.
Buckling herself into one of the passenger seats, Tani leaned forward to address the mercenary. âWhat can be worse than this?â
âAnti-aircraft cannons and TIE fighters.â
Tani grabbed hold of the seat as tightly as she could to steady herself. Rain lashed against the window as she clenched her eyes and looked away.
âIf I knew you better, I might say you arenât fond of flying,â the hunter commented.
âDonât mock me.â When the ship swerved in the sky, Tani cursed.
The wind made it difficult to keep the ship steady as they ascended, and the Mandalorian was glad that this planet did not have much space traffic as the rain obscured the view. When the ship leveled off above the clouds and out of the storm, the hunter looked over at Tani. âFeel free to join the others. Should be smooth sailing from here.â
âDid you get the information you came for,â she prompted instead.
âThat depends.â
âAre you always this cryptic?â
The hunter simply shrugged.
âLook, the women just want to knowââ
âWho is Xyrus?â
Tani froze before looking down at her hands. âI never met him, but heâs a very bad man. Hopefully, where weâre going, he wonât find us.â
âWas he involved with Zeru and Qu?â
Tani opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
âCan we talk to you,â a young Togruta woman whispered from the doorway. Tani stood and stumbled toward the door. When she reached the other woman, she stopped.
She turned to look at the Mandalorian from the other side of the doorway. âYâknow, we never caught your name.â
âYouâre right.â The hunter then closed the door behind them, filling the room with a final silence.
The navicomputer blinked, ready for data input. Getting to Hana City would not be a problem. The route to the new capital was already too familiar following the war. The war seemed so long ago when surrounded by the quiet of outer rim planets and hyperspace, but in toward the core, people waited on bated breath for the Empire to launch their next offensive. Everything was both too quiet and humming with destructive energy at the same time. With how vast the galaxy was, there was always a war looming somewhere. After having spent the last seven years at war, the Mandalorian learned the Empire and knew how its leaders thought. They were planning something, they had to be. This new peace was precarious. Everything felt like it was on the precipice of falling apart and the Mandalorian did not trust the new government to hold it together. It seemed like they were hurdling toward a swift and inevitable end while the Mandalorian felt both stuck between two places and on the brink of something else. The transition to civilian was almost as numbing as it was surreal and it made the mercenaryâs skin crawl. The restlessness was, by far, the worst part following the war.
Pushing the pressing state of galactic affairs out of mind, the hunterâs thoughts returned to the passengers in the hold. Qu and Zeru were dead, there was no reason to worry, but the thought of those men still brought a chill to the room. However, the hope that it was all finally over left the mercenary feeling tired for the first time in months. It was going to be a long ride.
Pictured above: The Cliffs of Rhonu
Notes:
Writing has long been a hobby of mine. I have been writing since I was very young, but have run into a nasty case of writers block for many of the stories I had been working on. This is kinda a writing exercise to help me practice character development and keep my writing skills sharp. I chose an existing âuniverseâ so I wonât need to get caught up in world building (which is what I think is causing my writers block). The characters of this story are original as are some of the details of their cultural backgrounds and some of the places they visit. The universe this takes place in IS NOT ORIGINAL.
This writing exercise is also a reaction against the lack of diversity in the SW universeâsomething that has been frustrating me lately. Many of the people, religions, cultures, and places of this universe seem⌠sterile. There is also a distinct lack of black and brown people, LGBTQIA+ people, disabled people, and fleshed-out women. Black and brown characters within the universe also have a history of being literally whitened or written out. I wanted, in part, to explore how cultural complexities affect characters and their decisionsâsomething which I have been struggling with in my original works given that my world building still needs to be built upon.
Thank you to all who support! If you have any comments on world-building or character development, feel free to leave them. Let me know what you think (and who you think the MC is)!
I have 3 chapters written out and a 4th in the making. I plan to post weekly; Sundays at around 6:30 DST/CST.
Sometime I think about Jesse post the inhibitor chip arc. Jesse, who probably saw Kix when he came out of the âfresher at 79s and probably confided in him about seeing Fives. Jesse, who probably shrugged it off in exhaustion, trying to enjoy his leave and thinking about how the last plan from Fives almost lead to his execution. Jesse, who would lose yet another brother when Fives died, a slight guilt wracking his brain. Jesse, who would then lose Kix all of a sudden, leaving him the last of his group. He had Rex, sure. But Rex seemed troubled as of late, like the war is finally taking its toll on him.
Jesse, who gets promoted to ARC Trooper, and just tries do his duty. Jesse, who loses all control when the chip activates, and has to point a gun at the last of his group.
He's screaming on the inside, crying himself hoarse beneath a façade that is not his own. The howl claws it's way up his throat but his mouth is closed, his face is expressionless.
The last of them stands before him, reasoning with him but to no avail. Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on, otherwise he'd see the faces of all their brothers they'd lost before.
Hardcase who died for a hollow victory.
Fives who was shot by one of their own.
Kix who had disappeared without a trace, cast aside by a Republic that did not care about one single life.
They'd all be written in the deep brown of Rex's eyes, in the lines on his tawny skin.
Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on.
His hands are steady, alien, foreign. His voice does not belong to him and nor do his thoughts. At least not the ones that matter. This silent voice, that belongs to him but it is no use now, no matter how much it shouts.
It was just the two of them now, from a group that dwindled in the twilight of the war. Jesse is glad Rex keeps his helmet on, he wouldn't be able to look his last brother in the face.
A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
C: What character do you identify with most?
D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?
E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?
F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?
G: Care to share a favorite crack fic?
H: How would you describe your style?
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].
K: Whatâs the angstiest idea youâve ever come up with?
L: Whatâs the weirdest AU youâve ever come up with?
M: Got any premises on the back burner that youâd care to share?
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
O: How do you begin a storyâwith the plot, or the characters?
P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an âarchitectâ or a âgardenerâ? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)
Q: Do you have any discarded scenes/storylines/projects?
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
S: Any fandom tropes you canât resist?
T: Any fandom tropes you canât stand?
U: A pairing you might like to write for, but havenât tried yet.
V: A secondary (or underrated) character you want to see more of in fic?
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
Y: A character you want to protect.
Z: Major character deathâdo you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you canât tolerate?
Itâs time! Applications for Legacies Entwined: A Master and Padawan zine are now open! We are looking for writers, artists, and merch creators. Applications will be open from now until January 17th. If you have any questions, donât hesitate to reach out!
