Not a Runner
Introducing my OC, Splinter! Here is a little backstory that will explain the beginnings of where he will end up after the fall of the Republic. More on Splinter, including his design, at the end!
mature | about 1.3k words | mild violence. blood mentions.
19 BBY
Ord Mantell wasn’t where he’d intended to end up. He’d gotten lost, just the same as anyone could. Anyone, even soldiers – could stray from their path.
I didn’t run.
It wasn’t his fault.
I didn't– I didn't run.
He just wanted to help – still does.
I did not run.
-
It started with the exchange – the tradeoff for a new runner, one who harbored an extensive list of skills and strengths that would no doubt be an asset for whomever employed him. His life – his loyalties – now pledged to a group that would have otherwise killed an entire crew if he had refused employment. He'd given himself to them willingly with the fulfilled promise that the innocent lives of those who'd been caught in the middle would be spared.
He was a good man. He’d do anything to help those in need. It’s what he’d been trained to do. It’s what any soldier – what any good man – would have done.
The light freighter he’d bartered passage on from the Kala'uun spaceport was, unbeknownst to him and the crew, doomed from takeoff. He was settling in, counting what remained of his saved-up credits before stashing them away in the same canvas sack that carried the armor he’d decided to keep and what little medical supplies he’d been able to lift from medical. They were his supplies and belonged to the man who specialized in such, he’d reasoned with himself back in Lessu. Besides, he didn’t take much. He made sure to leave more than enough for his brothers and the Twi’leks. They’d find another medic – he’d be delivered to them fresh out of Kamino – just as he had, at the start of the war.
It had only been mere minutes of being in hyperspace when the Falleen hijackers made their presence known, busting out of emptied cargo crates with their weapons at the ready.
“Attention, crew,” the largest of the three announced, his free hand smoothing down the braided twist of his black beard as he spoke. We are here for the ryll, not your lives. But, make no mistake: one wrong move – any acts of bravery – will cost all of you.”
The other two Falleen, a younger man who looked to be just barely an adult, and a woman, flanked their leader, one hand holding the hilts of their viroblades while the other ghosted over their holstered blasters. Gasps and whispers erupted from the crew as the leader stepped forward, eyeing the able-bodied among them who could potentially pose a hindrance to their heist, standing tall as a symbol of threat – a silent warning with his proximity.
Splinter didn’t even have to think – striking with a quick movement to disarm the younger of the three who was closest to him. He lurched forward, roundhouse kicking the blade from his grip, and went to do the same with the woman but instead took an elbow to the face, not seeing the leader who was nearly twice his size coming from his peripheral. The unexpected hit sent him flying backward, his body knocking roughly against the curve of the hull’s wall. Without his armor, the impact hurt – rattled his bones and knocked the wind from his lungs. It felt as if he’d been blown back from a nearby detonation, a blast similar to the one that had wounded his captain, the fire in the aftermath of the explosion critically wounding him. Those flames that had threatened to consume his captain then felt as if they were licking up Splinter's back here and now, warmth radiating from where he was sure he’d broken more than just skin in areas he could not see.
“Looks like we have ourselves a hero,” snarled the female Falleen whose long black hair was secured in a tie at the crown of her head. “Such a handsome face.” Moving her hair from where it hung down her shoulder to her back, she cocked her head with a little playful pout, clicking her tongue. “It’s too bad Xonn had to break it.”
The leader gestured to the cargo with a wave, signaling the female while keeping his eyes locked on Splinter. "Neffos, check these crates for what we are here for."
The surprisingly collected crew stayed huddled in the opposite corner, watching wide-eyed as the scene unfolded before them, looking back and forth between the hijackers and the man who’d braved a preemptive attack. Slunken on the cool floor of the hull, Splinter raised his hand and gently patted around his nose and around it, instantly met with the warm ooze of blood coating most of his face from the sharp impact of an elbow. Sucking in a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut, he cupped his nose with two hands, quickly snapping it back into place. Shocked gasps came from the crew and he blinked back involuntary tears, staggering to stand upright and half-leaning against a crate to his left.
"It's all here. Let's kill them and get the fuck going."
The Falleen man he'd disarmed instead pulled out his blaster, a unique looking one with vertical double barrels spaced several inches apart, and aimed it at the crew. Neffos moved beside him, taking a similar stance as she raised her matching blaster. Over the sound of panicked pleas, he drawled: “We warned you, hero.”
“Kost, Neffos.” The leader waved his hand in the air then stepped in the direction of Splinter, who was in the process of raising his bloodied hands into fists and getting into a fighting stance – albeit, a wobbly one. “Curious.” The one called Xonn turned and nodded to the other two. “Our hero – a clone.”
Kost and Neffos raised the sharp, protruding curve of their brows and scoffed in unison.
“You’re a bright one,” mocked Splinter with a huff. “Surprised you can recognize me after that cheap hit.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled humorlessly.
The young male Falleen scowled at the comment and moved closer to the crew, reaching to grab one of them and held them at gunpoint. “Watch it! One more word and I’ll–”
“Kost,” the leader of the three warned with a snarl over his shoulder, returning to face Splinter and crossing his arms over his chest. He continued to regard him with inquisition. “Hm. A clone.”
“And?” Splinter called with grit in his voice and an unamused smirk on his lips, rolling his head side to side to work the kinks out of his neck. His eyes flickered back and forth between Xonn and the crewmate being threatened by the seemingly more reckless of the three Falleen. “What about it?”
“I have never seen one of your kind so far from the rest.” Xonn hummed. “What is your story, clone?” He took large strides towards him – boots knocking in loud thumps against the floor. “Are you lost? Or are you a deserter, hm? Running from a war that you know you cannot win.”
I would never desert my brothers.
Splinter narrowed his eyes at the leader, blood steadily dripping from the cracked bridge of his nose. It seeped into the sealed lock of his lips, the taste of rusty credits meeting his tongue. Scrunching his features at the taste, he spat out a glob of crimson on the floor in the direction of the largest Falleen and winced at the soreness settling around his cheeks and under his eyes. He glanced at the shaken crew, who were all looking right back at him, silent pleads watering in their frightened eyes.
I can save them.
The clone spat out another glob of rusty crimson, clearing the taste from his throat with a gargled cough. His sore features softened, taking out some of the bite from the pain as it subsided. He uncurled his fists and let his arms fall to his sides, leaning on the crate for support once again. "Don't– don't hurt them."
A wordless mutual agreement fell heavily into the stale air of the hull, the clone and Falleen agreeing to each other's voiceless terms in mere moments.
Xonn looked over his shoulder and waved his hand, the other two immediately lowering their weapons, Kost releasing the hostage.
“You will be of great use to Black Sun, my boy.”
-
And so Splinter went with them – back to their stronghold in Ord Mantell City. Not only did they acquire the potent spice native to Ryloth known as ryll, they also acquired something that had not been on their scopes, someone who would prove to be invaluable: the clone medic Splinter.
They weren’t good people – but he was a good man.
I… am still a good man.
A good man who runs for Black Sun.
-
Name: Splinter (sometimes referred to as 'Splint')
Designation: CT-1113
Served on Ryloth under Captain Howzer (more on that later)
Markings, tattoos, name origin, and other info are to come!
people who might be interested? :)
@rowansparrow @thefact0rygirl @gotomarvelgal @book-of-baba-fett @literallydontlook @pinkiemme @galacticgraffiti