Friends! It's Glup Shitto time! I've added a bunch of funky little guys recently so I wanted to make a new post. I can only put 30 photos in a tumblr post so this time around I'm excluding clone troopers—for all the clone troopers, see this post here. As always, let me know who your faves are! And remember you can use code TUMBLR15 for 15% off most accessories! Shop is here.
And with that, my self-indulgent nonsense is complete!
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Fox has to supervise the tracker they brought in from off-world. Prime’s redhead, as Wolffe called her. Redhead is a bit much, he thinks, considering that head is more of a shock of pink.
Whatever. Not his business.
She seems… more of a bounty hunter than he expected. Boba had said she doesn’t fight, but she moves like she does. Not a soldier, not an assassin, but still capable of a good scrap.
Someone asks her if she needs some kind of sample to find Ventress, like clothing with a scent or the like.
“I am not a massif,” she snaps. After a moment, she says, “you have blood? Not dry.”
They do not have a blood sample from Asajj Ventress.
She rolls her eyes, as if they are all making this very hard for her on purpose. Fox meets Wolffe’s eyes, and does his best to project natborns. Wolffe grimaces like he gets it.
Fox watches the hope leave from the Jedi, as they ‘realize’ how bad of a plan this was, and then Uzumaki turns and starts moving people.
Koon, Billaba, and Commander Dume to one side. Yoda and Fisto to another. Windu off on his own.
“Type,” Uzumaki tells them.
Fox wonders what the hell she’s doing, but then Koon says, “ah. The lightsabers.”
He draws his own, lights it, and gestures to the blade. “Mine, Master Billaba’s, and Padawan Dume’s are all blue. Masters Yoda and Fisto have green blades, and Master Windu has purple.”
Uzumaki’s eyes narrow. She tilts her head, gestures as if demanding proof, and they all light their sabers to prove it.
She drifts closer. Fox rests a hand on his blaster, though he has an odd feeling that it won’t help much if she does do something. After all, there are multiple Jedi Masters in the room.
“There is… something small,” she says, looking at Koon’s lightsaber, but not touching it. “Like… stars.”
“The kyber crystal,” Koon says, and then hurries to explain at the unimpressed look he gets, “a rock, clear but with color. They help power the saber.”
Uzumaki nods slowly. “The mark?”
Mark? Like for a con? Girl, this is a target.
“Red,” Windu says. “It’s not a natural color. She bled her crystals.”
Uzumaki does not look any more impressed with him than she did with Koon.
“She gave her kyber her pain and anger, until they also hurt,” Windu tries instead.
With a nose-wrinkle of distaste, Uzumaki asks, “the rock thinks?”
Fox is also curious as to this question. The hedging hand-wiggle is almost a disappointment.
“Red stone,” Uzumaki says, “do you have a sample?”
They do. They get it, from wherever it’s hidden away. The Jedi are uncomfortable with it, though only Dume is young enough to really shy away. Uzumaki makes a face, picks up the saber it’s housed in, and closes her eyes.
Considers.
“I can use this,” she says, though she immediately hands it back.
She does a weird motion with her hands. Closes her eyes again. Says something, kagura shingan, that means nothing to Fox.
And then she opens her eyes and says, “more than one. Closest is… that way. Fifty? Kiromētoru, a little more?”
“In miles,” Boba pipes up.
She shoots him a look, as if he should know better. “I do not know.”
Boba frowns and thinks very hard. “Um… I think... the ratio was something like three miles is five of those things. About that?”
So thirty miles? Well. At least Boba’s being helpful, if only to enjoy the dawning horror of the Jedi.
“That direction,” Fox says pleasantly, “is the Senate.”
And suddenly, everyone gets very urgent about things.
Fox doesn’t bother to take charge, because it’s kind of nice to let the Jedi manage the tracker like this. Fox does take charge of Boba, pulling him over to that Dume kid and saying, “hold hands.”
Boba tries to kick Fox instead, which is stupid of him. Kind of endearing, but stupid.
“Caleb isn’t coming,” Billaba informs him. “We have a mission of our own to prepare for.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!” Boba spits.
“You need to be watched,” Fox says, as drily as he can. He gestures to a few of his men. “Keep an eye on him.”
“Are you going with the Jedi?” Porkchop asks; as a medic, he’s definitely going with the field team.
…which has already left.
“Yes,” Fox says, hurrying after them and ignoring the squabbling children behind him. “Come on.”
