(Show me your Player and an OC or Character they cherish most.)
Kinda wanna see how other people picture the Player from Poppy Playtime. As far as I'm aware, you've never seen their reflection. This is my view, the smaller creature is a Bobby BearHug variant named Reddy, who is male. They met after Safe Haven was destroyed. At this point in my au, Player is more Butcher and less Angel. They are a he and he has a protective habit towards Reddy. Since outside of Kissy, Reddy is the only who hasn't tried to kill or use or betray Player.
Since I can't draw, I'll try to help describe the hidden mouth Player has. It's in the normal area on a human body, the seam is well hidden. Behind the seam is sharp needle like teeth with a human tongue. The jaw can unhinge to eat bigger prey but Player hasn't eaten since entering the factory. He barely sleeps as is, and most of the bandages are from scraps around the factory.
Summary: Despite the many warnings from the other gods and even his own wife and children, Zeus tempts the fates by messing with one of Hades' chosen mortals.
Over the years since meeting the King of the Underworld, Odysseus had the knowledge that Hades was watching him. It wasn't in a way that meant ill for the mortal. It was more befitting of a parent watching their child. The brunette had started noticing a raven watching him. With that familiar set of pale golden eyes he knew only belonged to one god. Every time it seemed like something was going to happen, that raven would make a noise of some kind and the something eased away. Like it was never there. It wasn't until he was near the waters of his palace did he get a front row seat to why the fates backed off so often.
--
He was walking along when the heavy presence of the God King struck down nearby. The brunette hid away, not wanting to deal with any gods at that point after yet another sleepless night. The raven cooed softly as it landed near him. Looking towards him as if asking if he was alright. He never got to answer as the nape of his neck was gripped in static laced fingers. He yelped as he was yanked from his hiding place and made to look at the God King. Zeus grinned down at him with glee, golden eyes smiling like a child.
"Well, well, I finally got you all to myself! I was wondering when that idiot brother of mine would finally leave your shores. It seems even the mighty Poseidon has his own duties to see too!" The loud and thunderous voice that greeted Odysseus told him nothing good was going to come of this conversation. Although, hearing that the God of the Seas stayed so close was a shocker. "What?" The brunette asked in a slight daze. Zeus' grin widened. "Didn't you know? You've captured his attention! Very thoroughly so, might I add! He hardly ventures far from you these days. It's made me quite intrigued!" The god said with amusement.
Odysseus paled when the god sat him on the ground and shrunk himself to be at eye level with the mortal. When he was above Odysseus years ago, the mortal hadn't had much time to really look at the god. Long fluffy white hair sat along caramel shoulders. A bare chest was present with a white set of robs being held up by a golden belt. Leather sandals were wrapped around the god's feet. His head was adorned with a headdress shaped like a set of lightning bolts. Twin bracers covered the god's lower arms. The God King's face was clear of scars, unlike his older brother.
"Now, I want to know what has my brother's undivided attention." The white haired god said lowly. He gripped Odysseus' chin in his hand, lifting his face into the others view. Golden eyes went half lidded and coal colored eyes went wide with a sudden animalistic fear. That fear vanished like mist in the wind when a two pronged bident snapped into existence and shot at Zeus with lightning speed. It sent the god flying into the rock face not too far away from them. Odysseus covered his head when the wind nearly blow him over to catch up to the bident. Once the wind died down, Odysseus looked over at the God King. And promptly choked on his own spit.
The white haired male was pined by the neck by the weapon, the rocks around him cracked and broken. The god's neck was charred and burnt to near cinders. Steam was rolling off the bident in waves, like it was being put through a forge's fire. The brunette turned his gaze to the other side of the beach and froze. There, in all his glory, stood Hades. His normally ashen and coal like hair was simmering like a kindling trying to light a camp fire. His eyes much the same. His face looked mostly calm, as if he hadn't just struck his brother with his weapon. When he spoke, it was a mix between fireplace and inferno.
"Why, brother, do you continue to ignore Hera's warnings? Do you think it's a game? To test how long my patience will last? Do you not recall what happened the last time you tested the fates like this?" The raven asked as he glided over the sand, not even moving a grain of it as he approached the mortal. Zeus coughed and choked up golden blood, unable to answer. Hades glared at his brother a moment longer before turning his attention to the mortal, smiling softly at him. "My apologies, child. Poseidon and I have been trying to keep him away from you for some time. But it seems my dear brother's head is full of static. I hope you can forgive my tardiness."
Gentle as could be, the god moved Odysseus onto a higher area and out of range of the now brewing fight. Zeus was growling and trying to remove the bident from his neck, his hands burning from the heat coming off the weapon. "Do you not recall why it took Hephaestus so long to make my weapon, brother? Does it slip your mind why I don't carry it that often?" Hades asked calmly as he approached his brother with something akin to boredom on his face. He gripped the handle of his weapon and, instead of pulling it out, dug it deeper into the rocks behind Zeus. The white haired god whined in pain as his throat was torched from the outside in.
Hades kept his hand on his weapon, his hair starting to flow like fire. His face in a frown as he watched his brother squirm. Not once has Odysseus ever seen Hades act like this, harming another god in such a way. His own brother at that. Soon Zeus rising his hands in surrender and Hades removed the weapon at his throat. "Go home, Zeus. Let this be a warning to you. I will not be as kind the next time you try something like that. And be aware," Hades leaned down, eyes shifting to something akin to crimson fire as he spoke, "I will know." Hades waited until Zeus left with a wheeze, before turning to Odysseus with a gentle look in pale golden eyes.
"You should go home, too, Odysseus. Your wife must be worried sick after all that noise." He said gently as he turned to ash and faded away into nothing. Odysseus was frozen for a second longer before he did as told and returned to his wife's warm embrace. A pale eyes raven nearby, quietly watching over him.
--
(I kinda wish I could draw. But I can't so you'll have to mentally draw it. (This is what happens when you find really good artists and wish you could share your own thoughts like they can-))
(You can't draw so you try to write how you imagine the two gods and one mortal from the musical you like to look.)(my newest fixation:D)
Poseidon:
The first time Odysseus saw Poseidon, he froze. Not out of fear but out of the shear need to keep his thoughts in check. There stood a raven haired warrior he knew had a past. Scars were littered across the god's tanned body like trophies displayed on a shelf. Even his head wasn't spared. The left side of his head looked nearly clawed off, opening his sharp incisor like teeth to the world around. The eye was still seeing, both eyes cold and almost ice like. What remained of his mouth was bordered by a beard. Long raven hair was pulled back into a half up, braided in places to hang topaz, opal, and sapphire gems braced in silver.
The visible left ear had an earring, a simple opal stud that barely pulled the eye away from the scarring. The outfit the god had on looked nothing like a king. Armor as dark as ebony lined in silver. It covered his chest and back, his shoulders, his lower arms, gauntlets shaped like claws, and from his knees down. Even his feet were covered. Along his shoulders rested a cape that reached the waters surface where the god stood. It colored in a beautiful ambry of deep navy to sky blue. You would almost mistake the raven for a haunting spectre of war and not the God of the Seas. No he looked nothing like the stories said. Not only was he not this young looking king, he looked tired. As if he hadn't slept at all in a while.
That tiredness faded however when the God spoke to them. Deep and rich like rolling waves. It had Odysseus nearly shuddering. The god's eyes hardened into steel and only anger was visible. A ruthless sort of anger that seemed like it had a cause. The brunette king felt himself wanting to dig into the god's history. See what made the raven tick and react.
That thought would not last long, however, when most of his men were slaughtered all at once. Then the brunette stopped thinking about anything else but surviving.
____
Hades:
Odysseus was exhausted. Down to his bones, he felt drained of all energy. He hardly slept anymore. Too scared of what he might find in the depths of his mind. That didn't change the fact that he froze at the sight of the Underworld's ruler. Tall with black to smoke grey hair that hung like a curtain on the right side of the god's head. Pale golden eyes that bore no iris or pupil but he knew was looking at him. An ebony circlet framed his head and a dusting of stubble framed his jaw. Pale skin was clothed in simple grey and black robes mixed with silver armor. Not as much as Poseidon, but near enough to match. He had a simple rose gold chain necklace around his neck, something Odysseus could only assume was a gift from Persephone. As the goddess had an ebony bracelet on her right wrist.
The god was calm. Almost unnervingly so. And after a few days in the god's realm, Odysseus figured out why. Hades had a slow temper. He wasn't quick to anger like Poseidon or gleeful like Zeus. It was a type of anger that you could only see right when it became too late to fix it. The mortal was shocked when black-grey hair ignited like firey gold. Burning and flowing like fire as his eyes burst into similar flames. Sharpened teeth flashed like a snarling hound. Odysseus felt as if the Underworld's temperature had risen with its kings anger. Right up until the gods wife appeared and kissed the gods cheek. Asking him sweetly to calm down before he scared the residents there.
Coughing, the gods appearance became calm. Fire like gold cooled into coal and ash. Golden to pale gold again. His voice went from roaring inferno to warm fireplace. He leaned down a little to kiss his wife's own cheek as she moved to return to her conversation with another goddess. Odysseus gulped when pale gold locked on him next.
____
Odysseus:
Poseidon wheezed as his own trident hit the ground, his frame full of holes in sets of three. Above him stood the mortal he had been chasing for nearly twenty years now. Shoulder length chestnut brown hair was now a deep chocolate with grey. Coal black eyes replaced deep brown, specks of red like rubies in coal. The were narrowed in tension where they once looked like ovals. Peach skin had tanned into a near browned caramel. Scarred and marked with the past near three decades the mortal had suffered.
His maroon colored clothes remained the same, albeit torn and dirtied in some places. His blood red cloak sat on his shoulders, patched with water and dried blood. The mortal was panting too. Poseidon calmed the storm and remained still. Not able to help the last remark that left his scarred mouth.
Idk if tumblr deleted it or I did but, I updated my Undertale AU. Human ish for easier sight. (Also I can't draw worth a shit so-). His name is Survi and his AU is named SurvivalTale. IDK if anyone else has an AU named this, if so let me know! Its similar to Horrortale, but the underground is mostly forests.
(more below if you're interested.)
Story follows up until the human falls but the human never leaves. Mostly because the Underground is already under struggles of hunger. Survi and his Brother were separated at a young age, though the two met again later in life. His Papyrus was already feral with hunger and attacked Survi. Survi had to put him down, which resulted a mental breakdown.
Survi has an ability called Feral Snap. While not powerful, can help him survival situations. Feral Snap causes him to gain high amounts of Adrenaline, enhanced speed and strength, and a higher pain tolerance. He doesn't use magic attacks often because it uses energy he doesn't have. (Though when he does use it, the color is a dark orange.) He is a light sleeper and can sleep just about anywhere. Mind you, that I said just about. In the open or a empty space he will not sleep.
He prefers non-perishable food. Storing it in his bag. His favorite is jerky, as rare as the meat is. He is mostly neutral, though he will attack if provoked. He is very protective of food and will attack if his food is taken or threatened. His AU is mostly empty because of the hunger and the Feral Monsters. He doesn't really care who visits his AU as long as they don't cause trouble. He will hide though. He is selectively mute and a head shorter than Classic Sans.
(You can use him so long as you tell me and I can see it or read it.)
Where millions of GAR troops were at different points of the galaxy, they were suddenly in a grey void like space.
Their faces pitch black except for scars or differences in appearance. Eyes pure white and armor their original phase one set and color. From the oldest to the youngest still alive they all stood there. It was strangely silent despite them all talking at once.
What was even more strange was the black crack splitting the ground and separating them from what looked like the Guard.
Similar to them, they had pitch black faces, and the differences shown in white with their eyes. Despite how many GAR troops there were, everyone could see as if they were standing in front. Almost like a Holo live recording on a Helmet comm.
The GAR was horrified to see scars or missing limbs marking their brothers on the other side of the crack.
It looked like one of the shiny Guards was holding on desperately to a batcher's hand, but the batcher just began to walk towards them. Pulling until the shiny Guard was forced to let go.
The shiny's eyes filled with red tears, the same as the color marking them. They cradled their hand to their chest and the tears spilled over. One of the other guardsmen stepped out of the flood of red and white. Pulling the shiny's attention to them, they lifted their arms in silent comfort. The shiny rushed to the other and was embraced into a tight hug. Armor creaking as the older Guard smoothed their hand into the shiny's short regulation hair.
The other GAR shiny turned to look and froze, seeing how hurt the other was. They tried to reach out to the other. Suddenly, another Guardsman surged to the front and rammed a riot shield into the shiny. This trooper a shiny themselves. The GAR shiny fell to the ground and the other GAR members stepped forward.
The Riot Shiny flinched at so many other GAR soldiers approaching. And that caused a chain reaction in the rest of the Guard. More Riot Troopers rushed out in defense of their shiny member, slamming their shield on the ground. Lining up on either side of the first Riot trooper as a show of support and comradeship.
This caused the heavy artillery Guards to follow, guarding the edges of the shield formation. Suddenly the ground rumbled and high vantage points appeared, allowing the Guard Sniper units to take aim. The rare Guard Enhanced all took positions behind the Riot Troopers with their own weapons in hand. The Guards with normal blasters each took a shoulder behind a Riot Trooper and aimed their weapons.
The massiff units all pushed the medics and soft shells behind them, aiming their blasters at those they could safely aim at. Medics had their makeshift packs at the ready for any who might get injured on their side. And soft shells aimed pistols around the Massiff Units to do the same as them.
And suddenly, everything was quiet again.
The GAR didn't know how to react to their Guard brother's sudden defensive formation. Not one Guard shook or looked hesitant to fire.
It was like time froze, as the bigger side tried to figure out what to do. Until Cody stepped forward. The Marshall Commander stepped as close to the group in red as they allowed. Freezing when one of the troopers aiming over another's shoulder took aim at him. He raised his hand to signal a halt when his own men stepped forward to defend him.
From behind the line of Riot shields came the Guard's own Marshall Commander. The scars of sith lightning scattered across the left side of the oldest Guardsman's face had Cody flinching. The eye was no where to be seen either, meaning he was blind in that eye.
Fox crossed his arms in front of his chest, feet spread to parade rest length, and tilted his head. Not a word left the Guard Commander as he stood in front of the GAR Commander. No one spoke really. One side waiting for their Commander's orders, the other too in shock to speak.
The other Commanders of the GAR stepped forward. And soon after the other leaders in the Guard did the same. One Guard had blonde hair. One had a severely damaged jaw and throat. One had stitches lining their whole body old wounds healed over. One had a missing leg, the air in its place matching the void around them. One had over regulation hair. One had a scar along their head and over an absent right eye. And One with no hair, with a massive burn scar on the left side of his face.
The GAR only knew of Thorn, the one with long hair, Stone, the one with the burn, and Thire, the one with the missing right eye and scar on the same side. The other four where unknown. Until Rex stepped forward.
"Ritz?" He asked, and his voice was almost too loud in the eery quiet of the void. The blonde Guard officer, a Captain, crossed their arms in a silent show of defiance. The other six officers all stood on either side of Fox in a show of support. Not one looked ready to back down. Neither did the rest of the Guard despite their smaller size.
"Vod'ika. Why are you all doing this?" Cody finally asked the question the rest of the GAR had been thinking.
"You abandoned me and my men. So we're just doing what's necessary to defend what we have left. Who we have left. And I'm not your Vod'ika. The only Ori'vod'e I have is Chemi and Stitches. You aren't either of them." The Guard Commander snarled and the mentioned 'Ori'vod'e' both stepped forward on either side of Fox. Chemi was the one with the mangled jaw and throat, while Stitches was the one with a stitched up appearance.
The 212th and 501st CMOs rushed forward suddenly.
"JACOB!" "STITCHES!"
Helix shouted a different name than Kix, yet it was a name the 212th recognized almost immediately. Jacob had been the second in command of the 212th medical bay near the start of the war. But once General Skywalker was made a General, he was sent back to Kamino and was never seen again.
Stitches had been the new and first CMO of the 501st's name. And the man had been sent in once again to Kamino, he was also never again seen.
Only this time he wasn't reconditioned.
Said CMO of the Guard didn't even flinch when his name was shouted, though he was secretly confused by the first name. Both blue and gold CMOs froze when the Captain, Ritz, shot forward and shielded the red CMO. A snarl of a protective riduur marking his scratched up face.
The void rumbled again and Stitches had someone peeking out from behind him. This clone was inverted to the medic. Black eyes and stitches with a white appearance. A malicious smile was marking this clones face, but it wasn't towards the Guard. No it was towards the GAR. The Guard knew who this clone was. Freakshow. The Guard CMO's darker personality.
Helix hissed at the inverted clone and the other just giggled darkly.
"You bastard! I thought you finally left him alone!" Helix roared and the inverted clone's smile faded away.
"Because I was too Independent at the time, here I remain. I'm the one who's kept him alive ever since. With some help of course." Freakshow said as he patted Ritz on the shoulder from behind Stitches. The medic didn't seem bothered by the other presence.
With Freakshow's arrival, it heralded the coming of other similar inverted clones over many other Guard clone's shoulders. And even some GAR clone shoulders as well.
One of the Kamino bound clones looked heartbroken as he stood in front. "So he got reconditioned for nothing? He had hoped it would ease his suffering." All eyes framed by gold and red looked at the man and he flinched. Helix and Freakshow both looked at him and the clone stepped forward. "Joyce, Sirs. I....I was the one who saw him go to recon. He asked me not to say anything, just in case it didn't work. He didn't want me getting hurt."
The clone, Joyce, wrapped his arms around himself in self comfort as the anger in Helix's gaze ignited towards him. Freakshow just smiled soothingly. "It worked a little. It allowed me to explain my presence and give him time to really understand how I got there. It did heal him, even if my darling other half doesn't remember." The inverted clone giggled as he laid himself across the medic's shoulders. The other clone just grumbled in annoyance. Joyce smiled sorrowfully, nodding in acceptance.
Only to be punched in the face and fall to the ground. Everyone looked at Helix as he panted. Joyce cupped his jaw and tears filled his eyes. Pale teal tears that spilled over at the rage aimed at him. "You could have saved him! Now Jacob is dead because of you! I'll never have my Vod'ika back thanks to your silence!" Helix roared and Joyce flinched with a whimper. Freakshow growled.
"It wasn't your fucking choice to make. It was Jacob's. Nothing else was working to save his psyche from shattering and causing him to go AWOL. So don't blame him for something he had no control over." Freakshow hissed as he crossed the crack and helped the Kamino Bound clone to stand. The inverted clone grabbed his wrist and dragged Joyce over the crack to the Guard side. Joyce's armor changed colors to red. Much like Freakshow's had changed to gold and blue when he stepped over to the GAR side.
Fox jerked his head towards the riot barrier and Joyce melted into the Guard ranks. Disappearing from sight. No one really argued the Guard literally stealing one of their men. If it made the Guard feel like the man was safer than so be it. "Helix." Cody mumbled and Helix sighed with golden tears in his eyes. Captain Ritz moved to stand in his original place next to the one unnamed Guard officer, while Stitches stood with Freakshow at his back. No malicious smile to creep the GAR out.
Fox cleared his throat and attention was on him. "I'm glad this has happened. Because now I can say this with full confidence. Let it be known that the Guard will no longer treat the GAR with anything but professional politeness and business. It was agreed upon by all members of the Guard. The only expectation to that had been Bonsai. Who still had a batcher outside the Guard who still contacted her." The shiny who had been comforted at the beginning of all this flinched when their name was mentioned.
The shiny, Bonsai, shook as she became the center of attention. Said shiny stopped shaking when one of the bigger enhanced, one with patchy skin and white lined hair, stepped up behind her. Making their massive presence known. The Bad Batch, also part of the GAR despite their commando and black ops status, all looked shocked to see another of Wrecker's enhancement still alive.
"To answer any questions on the enhanced, the one behind Bonsai is Caboose. One of three of the Heavy classed enhanced among the Guard. The other two are Chalk and Titan." Fox said in monotone. The named enhanced nodded once to signal name and face. "They have a similar grouping system to the GAR's Bad Batch, though they don't strictly form up in their original unit unless necessary. Chalk frequents the medical bay, while Titan acts as the heavy artillery for the crew of the Victorian. Caboose acts as a free agent among the Guard, pulling those being reconditioned or decommissioned into our ranks to keep them safe."
Fox explained and Caboose grinned. Cody mumbled to himself in awe while the other GAR Commanders just stared. The Riot Troopers and those behind them had still not eased up. Neither had the other Guardsmen despite the calm atmosphere. "What can we do to regain your trust?" A clone in Wolfpack grey asked and Chemi was the one to answer. Though his voice was hoarse thanks to the damage in that area.
"That is a question best answered by the individual you want to regain the trust of. I'd say we all have different answers to that. Me personally? There really isn't anyway but through time and effort on both sides." The clone said, he sounded almost like he was mimicking someone. Another guard near the back with the Massiff members snorted sarcastically. "Don't get too hopeful though. Not sure I wanna give my trust back after it was shattered the first time." Some members of the Guard nodded in agreement.
It grew quiet after that. Both sides at a stand still. A member of the 49th stepped forward. "Who hurt you? It was supposed to be safe! None of you should have those kinds of injuries!" He shouted and many other GAR members murmured in agreement. The nameless Captain answered. "The Senate. Coruscant. Only ones who really left us alone was the Jetii. Well except for that Vos guy. He visited with food from time to time after we pulled him from the sewers or a dumpster." The answer seemed to echo in the once again silent space. The Guard seemed to act like it was normal. Like having these injuries was a daily thing to them.
Thinking about it now, Cody felt like it probably was.
"And you are?" Wolffe asked. The Captain grinned ferally. "ARC Captain Gatz of the Coruscant Guard. If you got a fucking problem with it we can fight right here and now." The ARC replied, not an ounce of fear in his face or voice. Wolffe raised his hands in surrender. "Just wanted your name! No fighting necessary!" The Wolfpack Commander reassured. That seemed to deflate the ARC as he pouted with a whispered 'Damn it.' that only Ritz seemed to hear. The blonde Captain patting the other on the shoulder in sympathy. Stitches snorted and crossed his arms. "As much as this little reunion has been informative, I have patients I need to tend to. So how about we figure out how to get out of here?"
Fox nodded in agreement. The Guard Riot formation eased just a little, allowing the troops to shake themselves out of their stiffness and reset their bodies.
"We'll deal with those bastards later then." Bacara muttered and several other GAR members whispering a faint 'oya' amongst each other.
The vantage points all lowered and the sniper units melted into the crowd of Guardsmen. Leaving only the black crack as the single deviation to the grey void.
Not that anyone really paid it any mind. The Guard wasn't trusting of the GAR right yet, and they were willing to work to gain that trust back.
The 501st was having a meeting with a few members of the Guard, Senators Amidala and Organa, and some members of the Jedi Council. Anakin was currently going on a tangent about the Guard's laziness and stupidity. Or what he assumed was so. One of the Guards on duty was getting agitated. Those who were truly paying attention could see his armor shaking as his rage began to bubble past the point he could hide. Commander Fox was aware of Fenrir's rising anger.
Said Commander was kind enough to warn the council and Senate members prior to the meeting that he would be prone to lash out. Especially when Skywalker was around and in one of his rants. Despite his somewhat cordial behavior during the events of Five's disappearance and later the incident with Ritz, the Jedi Knight was still prone to rants against the Guard. It had gotten to the point that no Guardsman was willing to deal with him alone or at all. Hence the meeting. And once the male got into a new rant about how lazy the men on guard duty were Fenrir finally snapped.
The riot trooper hit the Knight with the butt of his blaster, knocking him to the floor and startling everyone in the room but the Guards. The clone raised his foot and stomped onto the weakest point in the man's leg and a crack was heard. Anakin wailed in pain and Fenrir held up his blaster to point at Jesse in warning. The other members of the 501st froze. The second oldest member of the Coruscanti Wolfpack growled and reached down to pull the wounded Jedi to his feet. Albeit unsteadily.
"Stand the fuck up. You stand back up. The rest of you sit down, or else."
Fenrir growled and most of the ones standing did so but Jesse. Fenrir looked at him and motioned for him to sit too. The blue clad clone did so with hesitation. The red clad riot trooper kept Anakin from sitting down and made him fall into a shaky parade rest. Back straight, legs shoulder length, arms behind the back crossed, and chin held high. Every time a noise of pain would leave the Jedi's mouth, Fenrir would scoff.
"What is it? Your leg? Shut the fuck up and be quiet. You have no right to complain."
He snarled and waved at Senator Amidala to begin her own talking. The brunette woman nodded, slightly disturbed by the events taking place, but used to Fenrir's type of teaching. He knew no better way to teach than experience. After an hour, Anakin started to flag and slump over. Only to get smacked on the back by Fenrir.
"Oi! Did I say you could be at ease?! Straighten up, you shithead! You ain't allowed to relax until I say so. You're a Jedi! Fucking act like it!"
Fenrir snapped and the brunette Jedi fixed his posture despite the pain. Obi-wan was looking mildly distressed by his old Padawan's treatment. Plo Koon was wincing with every growl Fenrir rumbled out. Despite the months having gone by, the Guard was still icy towards those outside of their unit. The only ones willing to be somewhat cordial were the Commanders, CMO Stitches, and very rarely Chemi. Due to the fact that the Healing Halls had been helping heal the Trooper turned Scientist's air ways.
They were never out right mean or cruel, but they never dropped their guard. They never allowed visitors. And they didn't try to make nice. They were all business and professional politeness. Except for a very small group of shinies who hadn't been abandoned yet. And they had been warned about said abandonment happening at any point. So they were enjoying their time while it seemingly lasted. When it was nearing the end of the meeting, Fenrir was still pacing behind Anakin with the gaze of a predator.
He never let the Knight relax, always barking for him to straighten up or fix his posture. The Jedi's broken leg was shaking, yet Fenrir didn't seem to care. He snapped when Anakin would go to ask to sit. Claiming that he had no right. That he wasn't allowed to sit with their "Noble Guests". At first those not in the know didn't really like the way the Guardsman was treating him. Until it finally clicked that he was treating Anakin the same way they were treated.
"Fix your fucking posture, Jedi! I didn't fucking say you could relax!"
Anakin was nearing his physical limit. Yet no one was interfering with what the crazy trooper was doing. He didn't understand why his master or Padme weren't doing anything! His leg hurt! Yet whenever he began to slip, the trooper would snap at him.
"And this is the end of the meeting. Trooper Fenrir, would you kindly allow the Knight to relax?"
Senator Organa asked with a wary smile. Fenrir growled softly but nodded. Hitting Anakin on the back and stepping around to face him.
"Did you learn your lesson, Jedi? Or am I gonna have to start paying a visit to the temple to teach you fucking discipline?"
He asked and the Jedi paled. He did in fact realize that this had been used as an example of what the Guard did daily. What they were forced to do every hour of every day. Before the Sith Lord was killed, before CMO Stitches had the supplies to treat them all. Before they could take time off and didn't have to support the entire Coruscanti police and security system. When they were under constant threat of death and recon.
"You can relax now. But if I hear anything about you talking shit again, I'll break more than just your fucking leg. I'll make you wear armor, go patrolling with me, and spend the whole day with no help for those injuries. And let me tell you, it isn't a walk in the fucking park. Not on this "Cushy Posting"."
Fenrir snarled and Anakin fell to the floor to sit. Whining with pain as Obi-wan walked over to check on him. Stitches didn't help, deciding that his old protege could deal with it. He should have learned that much with him. Kix just sighed as the Guards all walked out of the room. Fenrir more at a stalk than a walk with the intent of finding either his Soka or his Ori'vod, Chemi. Or even his own ad, Pup.
If Anakin had anything else to say, he kept it firmly to himself. Coruscant had Guard eyes and ears everywhere, after all.
The cabin was old. But warm and cozy. It was summer on this planet. The trees full and green. Birds chirping in the distance as the window allowed a cold breeze to flow into the cabin. The curtains fluttered in it's grasp. The living room had a fireplace bracketed by a love seat and an arm chair with a coffee table in the middle. All around the room hung pictures of a long forgotten time in history. Of soldiers who looked alike, of monks with abilities beyond the imagination. Of villains and plots filled with darkness and destruction.
The sound of dishes being done in the kitchen were the only noise outside of the birds. The kitchen was clean, counters empty of anything not meant to be there. At the sink stood a man with a scarred appearance. Dark skin with an amber eye. The other a milky white in appearance but really it was a cybernetic. A final gift from an old friend cut down by betrayal. The hands freeze for a moment at that memory before they continue the mindless work. Once dark brown hair was now grey, still routinely shaved across the sides and bottom of the head. Braided to reach the center of the man's back though it was moved to rest over the left shoulder.
The face was the most scarred out of the body. The result of a cannon blast that grazed him. Melting his armor and burning his body. His teeth were visible, the scar going across his eye and towards his scalp. His lips were saved but the cheek was not. Along the edge of the skull rested the tiniest of scars. You would never know that it was the result of a chip being removed from his head unless you were shown. The man wore a tan long sleeved turtle neck shirt with grey jeans, plain socks, and work boots. The shirt sleeves were rolled up to work, showing off the scars of a war fought and lost. A meaningless war for one man's greed to rule. One that devastated millions of souls. Once the last dish was done, the man sighed. He emptied the sink and dried his rough hands before rolling the sleeves back down.
The man began the last chore on his to do list. It wasn't difficult, despite the pain it brought nonetheless. He opened the door to the old basement and went down stairs. Turning on the light, revealing two sets of plastoid armor. Both from two points in time he wanted to both hold onto and forget. The first one was older than the second; blaster marks, scraps, dark places, and cracks littered the pieces like points on a map. Old looking paint colored the armor to look a dulling orange. He gently placed his hand on the chestplate. Eyes weary and guilt ridden. He was reminded of that fateful day. Could still remember aiming his cannon at tan robes and ginger hair. Remembers hearing that awful screech of the beast and the sight of that old friend falling to his death.
Guilt pushes him to turn his gaze away from that armor and glare hatefully at the armor beside it. Pure white with similar marks. Not a scrap of color to mark how different the times were. Despite how close they were. He doesn't remember much of that time. He does remember the icy chill of cryo and waking up almost ninety years after everything was said and done. Despite his somewhat youthful appearance, he was well over one hundred. He felt old. Tired and worn. His frame looked nothing like it. Still fit and strong like his youth. He should be dead. And he has this odd feeling. He smiled sorrowfully. His old friend had rubbed off on him, it seemed. Slowly he left the basement, deciding that cleaning both sets could wait til tomorrow.
He moved to the living room, sitting down in the arm chair and sighing softly. He slumped down and closed his weary eyes. He felt exhausted. Crossing his arms, he decided to rest before going out to town. He knew that he needed a few things but they could wait an hour or two. He settled and started to doze off.
"Oi, Vod! Come on! The General is gonna be facing the Commander again!"
The male was jolted from his doze to see a man who looked identical to him. Outside of the scars and hair. The other man grinned with excitement as the grey haired man stood quickly. He ran ahead but the grey haired male paused at the door to the cabin. Looking back he debated if it was a good idea to leave before he was done with chores.
"Vod!"
He turned.
The man was looking at him with confusion and concern.
"You coming?"
The male asked and the other looked one more time at the cabin behind him. Unknowing of the freshly painted orange armor now adorning his body, the male decided that the spar of his superiors was too good to miss. And without a thought, he darted after his brother with a smile to match the other's own.
He never noticed that he had left an empty cabin behind him as his soul finally moved on.
This is a little something I’ve whipped up involving Transformers Prime. Here are the months and twelve of the bots from Transformers Prime. It’s my idea of a reblog thread.
A Coruscant Guardsman shouted, causing all attention to fall onto him. Wolffe froze at the venom in the man's voice and the hatred in his eyes.
"What?"
He asked and the Corrie rolled his eyes. He also rolled his shoulders and started bouncing, readying himself for a fight.
"I said, square the fuck up. Are you deaf or is that your ego?"
The Corrie growled. He snarled and Wolffe nearly snarled himself if it still didn't baffle him on why the Corrie was so pissed. The other clone moved into a ready stance, loose and unassuming. But the dark hatred never left the man's eyes.
"You and your boys talk so much shit about us Corries, why don't you prove it? See if you can put me on my fuckin ass. I am so sick of your bullshit. Square up, Commander! Give this pencil pusher a fuckin taste!"
The other Corries didn't seem to care that one of their own was trying to start a fight. The Wolfpack was also quite stunned that a Corrie even wanted to fight. Rule keepers and fun police an all. Master Koon stepped forward and tried to de-escalate the situation.
"Alright, I don't think this is a good way to deal with these issues-"
The Corrie growled low and long, his eyes still fixed on Wolffe with rage.
"With all due respect, Sir, I want this dick to give me a reason to let me beat the ever loving shit out of him. He talks all this bullshit about my fuckin Commander and doesn't expect me to fuckin retaliate!? The only reason I ain't beating the shit out of you now is you haven't given me just cause. So square the fuck up, Commander Shabuir!"
The Corrie was respectful towards Master Koon. But that respect ended when it came to the Wolfpack. The other clones in grey all looked at this pencil pusher in stunned shock. They had never seen a Corrie lose their temper before. And seeing it now was slightly unnerving. The Corrie started to get irritated with the continued shock.
"Oh come on! I'm giving you a fucking opening, you spineless bitch! Square up and prove you're fucking better than me! Maybe if you do, I'll start to think you're more than just a spoiled little brat!"
That set Wolffe off, he growled and charged at the Corrie without further prompting. He tackled the Corrie and tried to get him to the floor for a few punches, but all that did was cause the other man to take a few steps back. He wrapped his arms around Wolffe'e waist and lifted him up upsidedown. The Commander yelped as he was thrown to the left away from Master Koon. He hit the ground outside the Temple with a crack. His right side was throbbing in pain as the Corrie descended upon him with a fury.
He punched the sensitive right side without care for the damage dealt. His face was a snarl as he violently headbutted Wolffe when he tried to sit up and fight back. After some trouble, Wolffe finally got the upper hand. He flipped them over and returned the vicious headbutt to the Corrie, but the other man didn't seem to care that his nose was now bleeding.
"That all you got, you bitch? I've fought stronger assholes than you!"
His voice was nasally from the bleeding nose, but the snarl was still there as the Corrie expertly blocked or parried strikes. He took a few, but like before, he didn't seem to care that Wolffe was beating the shit out of him. Until the tables turned and the Corrie flipped them again, away from the steps and began to punch at the Wolfpack Commander. This continued until eventually the Corrie was pulled off Wolffe after flipping two more times. Wolffe was bleeding from his own nose and the Corrie had a black eye on top of his own bloody nose.
They both had bruises and small cuts lining their faces as they snarled at each other. The Corrie was being held back by a larger Corrie. Wolffe was kept back by Sinker and Boost. The bigger clone was in full armor, helmet and blaster too. He was holding the smaller Corrie around his waist and allowing him to wiggle about.
He was shouting insults and curses left and right, not caring that he was doing this in front of several generals including Shaak-Ti, Plo Koon, and Obi-wan Kenobi. The Generals looked heartbroken and confused at the hatred in the smaller Corrie's eyes. Shocked too, that the other Corries weren't doing anything to really stop their brother from doing this. The larger one was just holding him.
"Talk shit about my Commander behind his back around me again, and I'll make you wish you were never decanted, you fucking prick! I'll beat you so senseless that Prime himself will climb out of Hell just to laugh at you! Don't you ever disrespect my family again! You hear me, you front line bastard!?"
The other Corries ran over to the one shouting and one of them finally put a stop to the cursing and venom. If only because some children were coming over to see what the noise was. The Corrie growled lowly and the larger one just sighed as he lifted the smaller into a more secure hold. The group soon left, all but one. He walked up to Master Koon.
"I won't apologize for my brother's actions or words, but I am sorry you and the other Jetii had to see that. It should have been dealt with in a more private way. I apologize."
The Corrie said and ran off. Tension in his shoulders signalling his obvious discomfort at having to be alone. Wolffe was still trying to calm down from the small fight. Still suffering from the shock at how brutal and vicious the other guy was. His anger cooled into something like awe and wonder at how strong the guy was in order to lift him up like that armor and all.
"Fuck me, I didn't even get his comm number!"
Wolffe finally groaned and Boost snorted. The tension fell away with the laughter and teasing.
~~
Gatz was still fumming when they arrived back to HQ. Bloody nose and black eye all but forgotten as he went straight to his Commander's office, poking his head in. Finding Fox half asleep in his chair, Gatz walked over and sat down on the old couch they had brought into the office. He sighed and texted Dogma that he was in Fox's office. Neither he nor Fox spoke, mostly because Fox could already see and put together what had happened.
"Who?"
The older clone asked and Gatz just huffed quietly.
"Fuckin Wolffe. Bitching about you not being there for the End of the War Drunk fest. Talking about how you had a stick up your ass and how you should really stop being so cold and strict. Really, you'd think by now they'd learn to keep their damn mouths shut!"
Gatz vented and Fox just sighed softly. Nothing pissed the Corrie ARC off more than any form of disrespect towards the Guard. He had nearly been decommed for it. Had been reconned for it twice but the memories always came back after getting a look around HQ. No one really understood how, but they didn't question it. Not wanting it to stop working and risk losing Gatz forever.
The ARC was one of the few really old Corries. That list had grown so short only five people were still on it. Fox, Thorn, Chalk, Thire, and a medic named Word. The only medic the Guard officially claimed due to more and more restrictions and thinly vailed threats to transfer. But now they barely had to worry about it with Chancellor Bail Organa put forth reforms to help with their struggles.
Ritz had to drag Stitches away from the medbay to rest after he had ordered every Guard in for a thorough check up. Having gotten a fully restocked medical bay after three full years. Never had Fox seen the medic so close to his old self. The first CMO of the 501st. Before Kix. But that was the closest they would ever get to seeing the veteran medic. Stress had a way of bringing the darker half of the medic out, and not in a pleasant way.
Dogma entered the room with a scowl that matched his buir's own fierce one. Fox snorted as Gatz flushed in embarrassment.
"The medbay should have been your first destination. Why did Chalk enter the bay alone if you had injuries?"
Dogma growled and Gatz flushed more as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Not used to having a full stocked medbay yet. Was really just given you a heads up since I did remember that the Doc was getting some rest."
Gatz sat still as Dogma healed his wounds. Fox just sighed at the other clone's antics to get the medic's attention. Though the injuries weren't really a part of Gatz' obvious plan to win over the other. He did try to keep his wounds to a minimum. But his temper was a short fused one. Easily triggered. Dogma still helped even when it looked like he wanted to throttle the ARC.
While the rest of the treatment was done in silence, the ARC was quietly watching the medic with this love struck expression. Dogma finished working on his broken nose and Gatz hissed at his poking at the black eye.
"Try to keep out of trouble for a while, Gatz. I don't think Buir would be happy that his new supplies have mostly been used on you."
Gatz nodded and the room lapsed into silence again. But it was broken by a soft snore, pulling both of their attentions over to Fox who looked to have fallen asleep. They smiled, leaving the room quietly after covering the Commander in a blanket.
Gatz parted ways with Dogma along the way to the medbay and then the barracks where he flopped down on his bunk. He grinned and closed his eyes, planning on just going crazy against the GAR the next time they talked shit about his family.
Gatz knew that it would be fun to put them to rights the rough way.
Darth Vader is still trying to hold onto that little bit of Light in his heart. And because of that he gets hurt during one his master's Lessons. In this timeline, Crosshair stayed loyal but was pulled into the 501st because Vader was holding onto the good things of his past. Striker was one of the few 501st who had been with Vader ever since the start of the Clone Wars. So being with him now made no difference.
Darth Vader is injured in a mission and is forced into a bacta tank with nothing to take his mind off the past. Two very unlikely souls help fix this tiny hurt.
Being unable to hear anything was driving Vader mad. Not only that but he had none of his limbs attached to his body as he floated listlessly in the cool, thick liquid. His mind drifted off to the darker points in his life when he was similarly helpless. His mother, Ahsoka, the clones, and his beloved Padme. The war.
Obi-wan.
If he could still cry properly without the feeling of being weak or inferior, he would. But he was a Sith Lord and an Enforcer. He couldn't show that much weakness in front of so many people. Even if no one was in his chambers now, he could still sense people everywhere in his fortress on Mustafar. What he wasn't expecting was the presence of two familiar souls approaching his chambers.
He opened his eyes to peer out of the blue tinted glass when the doors opened to allow two armored individuals to inside. One was in pure white commando armor from the Clone Wars era. The other in black commando armor with a green tinted visor. Both walked up to the glass of his tank and placed one of each of their hands onto the glass. The white one looked over to the black one and said something. The black one nodded.
Their hands moved to remove their helmets from their heads and two familiar faces greeted Vader. Though his brothers had all been either killed or filtered out, Striker was still in the Empire. His hair still in that half shaved half long look. Braided at the sides with a mixture of grey and black. His left eye still a clear amber. The right a milky white from the blaster bolt that had nearly blown his head off. A light bit of stubble still covered the lower half of his tanned skin.
Crosshair still looked somewhat the same. Hair, eyes, body. The only few differences were the burn scar on the right side of his face. He gave Vader a grin that set the Sith at ease. Both of them sat their helmets and weapons on the floor and moved around the room to fiddle with different things. Slowly, sound came back to Vader. Striker turning on the sound with a scowl. Crosshair was turning off the cameras and listening devices in the room.
"Why do these idjits keep turnin his sound off? I may need to have a word with 'em about it. And not inna nice way."
Striker grumbled while walking over to the tank, sitting down at the base and taking out his personal datapad. Crosshair snorted with annoyance clear in his aura and face.
"You'd better leave some for me. It's bad enough that they left him like this without his limbs or something to occupy his time."
The enhanced clone moved the table of limbs and armor into Vader's view, settling the Sith down now that he could see his limbs. Vader was aware that he was not supposed to be this attached to a pair of clones, but no one was brave enough to comment on it. And his master seemed to not care that he's kept two of them. Both clones had gotten used to being the only two left in the entire Empire.
At the beginning of this little arrangement, Vader had to hide his worries and concern for the two commando's safety. Only to catch them viciously beating the osik out of a nat born officer no doubt giving them trouble. Neither said what the man had said, and Vader didn't bother to ask. Mostly he just transferred the man to one of the more dangerous outposts on the outer rim.
Crosshair sat down at the base of the tank beside Striker and leaned against the reg. No doubt taking this time to catch a bit of sleep for his upcoming mission involving a Sith Temple. Luckily, Vader had plans to go with him to keep the other troopers in line. And wherever Vader went, Striker followed. Whether or not Sidious wanted him to. And since Vader had killed an entire platoon's worth of officers over Striker, so long as the clone caused no distractions, Vade was allowed to keep him around.
Over the few years the two of them had been following him around, their personalities had changed somewhat. Where Striker was quiet and focused energy in the Clone Wars, he was now a little chaotic and loud. Always pulling people's attention onto him with his dark humor. The commando acted as his right hand and one of the best interrogators in the Empire.
Crosshair himself didn't really change much other than his more feral ways of dealing with nat borns and civvies. The only one who was immune to his harsh and pointed words or actions was Vader. Mostly because he understood the pain of betrayal from family and those closest in the heart.
Striker was less immune but still had some cover when it came to his own family of brothers. He missed them terribly, but often times just buried the emotions and thoughts deep in his chest until he could vent his anger through fighting or other activities.
"Hey, boss, what'd'ya say about this new prosthetic design?"
Striker held up his datapad for Vader to see and the Sith looked at the design of an arm. The material was light weight and sturdy from being made of beskar. The swirls of metal looked painted on but were made with the heat of the forge. Vader sent a wave of agreement to the clone and Striker saved the design to his pad and sent it to Vader's.
"I'll see if I can find somethin similar fer the legs too. You focus on gettin some rest 'fore the mission."
Another wave of agreement and Vader closed his eyes. Though it shocked him at first to hear the accent, it had a way of soothing his frayed nerves and settling him down into a relaxed calm he never could achieve with anything else. Even if his master disapproved strongly of his newfound source of calm, Vader was grateful for it.
The Sith could feel Crosshair already slipping into a dreamless sleep. One of the rare few he could get after the many nightmares haunting his time on Kamino. Finding out about the clone's home being bombed had cracked something in Vader. Knowing that the clones were really starting to fade away along with anything that connected to them.
The only things left of the clones were the few who had survived both the war and the slow culling from the Empire. Or the ones who had deserted early on. Only Striker and Crosshair remained as evidence that the clones existed.
Vader slowly felt the edges of his own dreamless sleep closing in around him. And as he drifted off, he felt safe knowing he was still cared about and loved enough to be kept safe. To see and be a part of their lives despite everything that had happened. Despite everything Vader had done.
The three weeks before the end of the war was when things started to feel like they were going downhill. It had started when the cruiser the Wolfpack were using had experienced engine trouble. Luckily, they didn't need to worry about being knocked out of Hyperspace but walking through the lower levels was a hair-raising endeavor. On one such occasion, a trooper named Bolt was walking towards the main engine room to pull his squad mate, Cup, away from his riduur to go to squad lunch.
If it hadn't been for the engineers, Bolt would have died, and the war would have continued.
Bolt heard an odd noise above him as he passed the engineer's main hang out. He looked up and saw nothing. But the next thing he knew, he was on the floor with a skull splitting headache. He tried to make a call for help, but his body just moaned with pain. Tears flowed from his eyes along with blood. He jerked softly as his blood slowly covered his face. He felt more than heard when someone spotted him. Hearing snippets of what had hit him. A busted pipe. Bolt blacked out soon after that.
__
Later, Bolt had woken up in the medbay with a clean bill of health and the orders to rest.
It was after his head injury that he began to notice the headaches. In fact, it was only because of the headaches that he began to notice something off with his lines of thought. The headaches turned into nosebleeds. But he still felt it was safer to stay away from the medics simply because of the last time someone suffered this type of headache. He knew that the Wolfpack medics were different than 501st medics, but he wasn't going to chance it. He wasn't infected with a virus; he didn't feel sick. And no one else seemed to be dealing with headaches like him.
Bolt began to notice the different ways he would refer to himself mentally. Sometimes he would be Trooper Bolt and other times he would be CT-7350. And he would call himself an it and not a him. Whenever he would wake up, he could hear himself saying Good Soldiers Follow Orders and it scared him. He was not a droid, the General and all his pack confirmed it. But everyone else calls him a meat droid, maybe he is one? Maybe he's the droid and everyone else is a person.
Bolt could feel his mind slipping into that place again, a murmur of Good Soldiers Follow Orders flowing off his lips under his breath. He felt his body start to shake, is it supposed to be this cold in here? He could hear someone trying to get his attention, but he was a Good Soldier who always Follows Orders. He remained standing on guard duty. Had to try and regain his footing so his eyes would focus out of their blurry state. Someone touched his shoulder and his mind snapped back into place.
The CMO of the Wolfpack stood in front of him, datapads in his arm to turn in to Commander Wolffe. Hix was looking at him with a worried expression and he suddenly felt the reason dripping down over his mouth. Shakily he reached up to touch the lip of his helmet and felt the liquid there, pulling it away to see a red shine on his black gloves. He could feel on the edge of his skull a headache trying to take the rest of his senses. It was so cold in here.
"Trooper? Are you okay?" Hix asked him but his mouth wouldn't open. It was taking all of his strength not to collapse on the floor as the headache pulsed closer to his eyes. He was swaying now, that much he was sure of since Hix's arm was moving too. He tried to answer but his head hurt. "F-Fine, Doc. I'm fine." He finally managed to get the words out of his mouth, yet he couldn't help but lean back onto the wall behind him. He could tell that nothing he was doing was helping his case when Hix looked at him with suspicion.
"I'm going to take these to the Commander. You are going to stay here until I get back." Hix ordered and Bolt felt the order wash over him. Good Soldiers Follow Orders. He nodded and Hix walked past him. He remained where he was, swaying back and forth like he was being blown by strong winds. His head began to swim, and his eyes blurred back over. The same mantra fell over him again. He was a Good Soldier. He'd Follow Orders.
His mind degraded and soon all he could think was those four words and Hix's orders. Stay here until Hix got back. That was his only thought as he slowly fell to the floor. He leaned back against the wall as the headache pounded away at his eyes. He closed them. He wasn't disobeying his orders just moving to get more comfortable. He jolted when someone placed their hands on his knees. He whined because the pain in his head was worse. He couldn't open his eyes, could barely hear whoever was talking in front of him.
From the front of his skull to the base of the back and down the sides. He felt blood running down his nose, tears leaking from his eyes. He let go of his blaster and grabbed his head as the agony continued. The pain was sharp and the center of it was at the side of his head. He howled as someone touched his head. Jerking away and curling up. He could hear someone else's voice ringing in his head as they spoke softly. Good Soldiers Follow Orders. He froze and the pain lessened. Someone had given him an order. He tries to listen outside of his own head.
"Easy Bolt. You're okay, just getting a medical gurney to our location. Just breathe and focus on my voice, okay?" Hix said and Bolt did as told. He felt claws against the back of his neck and tensed up, yet they just stayed there. A set of new voices were whispering over his head, and he shivered uncontrollably. He breathed through it and focused on Hix's voice. He was gently lifted up by two strong arms and placed on a flat surface. It was somewhat soft and squishy. He rested his aching head on it and the coolness of it soothed back the pain a bit.
He felt himself being moved and everything went black.
__
The next time he woke up, he was laying on a medical bed with his armor removed. He could just barely feel the headache on the edge of his skull as he tried to open his eyes. The pain sharpened when he opened one eye and he whined softly. Bolt could feel two needles in his arm and hand, but he didn't know what they were pumping into him. He felt a gentle hand rest over his head, and he sighed from the chilliness.
"Hey there, kid. Just Hix. We're heading back to Coruscant to the temple. The General is thinking that something in the temple could help. So just get some rest, we're a few days out." Hix said softly, rubbing his thumb over his scalp. Bolt hummed and curled up to sleep.
__
Over the next few days, Bolt woke sporadically with fits of pain. The same set of four words echoing mentally as they did physically. Different Orders that he didn't know the reasons behind would click into or out of place, leaving him in a painful limbo.
150 orders that it could not follow for one reason or another. So many in fact that the Unit's mind began to degrade every time it woke up. The medical units started to keep it under heavy sedation. The unit could feel itself trying to piece together what little of itself that wasn't a meat droid. Unable to hold onto the memory when it continued to slip away into the empty black surrounding it.
The next time it was allowed to stay awake, they had arrived to Triple Zero and were entering the space port they had docked at. The Unit could feel how its mind began to roll with numbered orders. It could hear the Jedi it was assigned to talking to someone else. Snippets of conversation that seemed to click into a full sentence without the unit's permission.
Order 65: Execute the Chancellor for Treason against the Republic.
It could feel the order wash down its senses and everything finally clicked into place for the unit. It would do as ordered, execute the traitor. Slowly the unit's mind returned the missing memories it had been searching for the entire time. His name was Bolt and he had orders to complete.
__
It was difficult to get the attention off him long enough to execute the order. The Jedi were persistent in their mission to heal him. But he wasn't sick? He felt fine. But the need to complete his orders kept gnawing at his thoughts repeatedly. When he was finally able to get out of the medical bay, Bolt took a blaster from his sleeping comrade stationed outside the door. Bolt was sure that his brother would not mind helping him execute this mission.
And if he didn't, then Bolt would assume that he was also a traitor to the Republic. Only another traitor would help the Chancellor. Bolt was calm as he walked along the empty corridors, looking for the traitorous scum. The man was supposed to arrive to see if his orders would pull Bolt out of the hole he had been in. He was nearing the entrance of the Jedi HQ when he caught sight of the traitor.
He could feel the attention of other comrades fall on him as he walked towards the traitor and the Jedi he was talking to. It was the Jedi he was assigned to, Jedi Master Plo Koon. General Buir. Bolt felt a snarl light up on his face as he picked up his pace to the group. That kriffing traitor would pay for even trying to get near his general. The traitor and the General both paused in their conversation as he finally got close enough to be noticed by the two.
"Ah, Trooper Bolt, was it?" Was all the traitor was able to ask before his head was blown to smithereens. Everything was frozen as the body dropped to the floor. Then Bolt felt the slowly growing headache demanding new orders. The pain grew to be unbearable and Bolt dropped the blaster to hold his head in agony. He was a Good Soldier, wasn't he? Didn't he Follow Orders like he was told? Tears streamed down his face as the agony pulsed in his skull.
New Orders. He needed new orders. That was all, the pain would stop when he got new orders. He tried to open his eyes to ask but they spiked with pain and he fell to his knees and vomited. He could feel soft feminine hands cover his own and the pain eased slightly. He needed new orders. He was a good soldier and he followed whatever orders would be given. And suddenly he could hear the woman in front of him speak with the authority of a medic.
"Trooper, stop clawing at your head. Get your breathing under control. Keep your eyes closed." The orders were easy to follow and the pain in his head began to ease back down. He kept his eyes closed, focused on his breathing, and finally realized where some of the pain was coming from. Bolt nearly collapsed into the person in front of him. "Koon, your ad is not in control of his own thoughts. The only thing I can hear is the overwhelming need for orders and agonizing pain."
Another voice spoke but Bolt was already curling into himself as the orders pulsed into his skull. Breathe, eyes closed, don't scratch. Three easy orders to follow. Bolt felt the medic gently soothe at his scratched-up skull. "I'm aware, Master Koon. But the boy has only just now calmed back down. Not only that but he is still a patient of the Healing Halls. Until the reason for these actions are found he is going to stay that way." The medic's voice was firm.
Bolt felt his skull slowly starting to spark with pain. Breathe, eyes closed, don't scratch. His orders, right? The pain grew anyway. He felt a sharp prick in his neck and a cold sensation flowed from the injection point. Bolt's body began to grow heavy and relaxed. He never even knew that the world outside of his eyes had gone dark into a dreamless sleep.
__
The pain in his head was the first thing Bolt woke up to. His frame felt hot and sweaty. The taste of vomit was fresh in the back of his throat. He still couldn't open his eyes, feeling a scratchy cloth over them. He could hardly move his body. He felt a mask over his face and a tube in his throat. The beeping of a monitor at his side pulled his attention. The room around him was quiet outside of the beeping.
He tried to speak but the tube prevented his words. He tried to move his limbs, only to feel the limb jerk to a stop with something around his wrist. He tries with his other hand but that one is bound too. The beeping starts to get worse as his breathing picks up.
He wasn't sick! He was fine! His headaches can be eased with orders, right? Tears gather in his covered eyes and his mind falls with worse events on why he was being treated like this. What did he do wrong? What happened? The beeping turns to screaming as the blank space in his memory glares back at him. He tried to remember what happened during that time. But nothing came back to him.
The door to his room was slammed open and he could hear two people shouting. He doesn't know if their talking to him or to each other. He felt his mind start to settle enough to hear what was being said. But his hand becomes freezing as something is injected into his system. He does his best to fight the medicine flowing into his blood stream. But he could feel its effects as his mind begins to drift off. The tears began to soak the cloth over them, but the tears were the last thing he remembers before his thoughts fall away.
__
Bolt woke up slowly again with his mind finally his own. He could hear someone softly reading something at his left side. He didn't recognize the voice at first but slowly he could hear a brother. But which brother was reading? He slowly tried to open his eyes and found that there was no pain in them. He looked forward at a cream-colored ceiling above his bed. A window was at his right side and he was greeted by warm rays of sunlight. Everything was quiet around him, except for the brother reading beside him.
He turned his head to look towards the other male and saw familiar grey armor. The Wolfpack. They were still with him? Bolt felt something in his chest ease as he looked around the room. Everything in the room was either medical in nature or something to fill a bedroom. The trooper finally turned his attention back to the reading brother. Surprised but happy eyes looked at him with relief. The brother sat the datapad on the table between them and stood up. He moved to sit next to Bolt on the bed.
The other clone leaned down to gently rest his forehead against Bolt's in a careful Keldabe Kiss. The male avoided touching the right side of Bolt's head. "You mir'sheb. Buir and the rest of us have been worried sick. You even gave General Che a firght." The male said and the way the man was scolding him finally put a name to the face. His squad leader, Blast. Blast grinned softly at Bolt when the recognition showed in his eyes. "You remember me now?" He asked and Bolt nodded slowly. "Good, because I'm not the only face you'll be seeing now that you're awake."
Blast slowly lifted his forehead from Bolt's and the Sergeant pressed a button over his head. The other sat back down in the chair next to the bed and Bolt looked over at him in slight confusion. Blast just grinned at him while running feet echoed near the door. A Twi'lek woman entered the room with a hard edge to her eyes and Bolt tensed up slightly. But she settled down as she scanned over him with her eyes. She walked over and gently placed the back of her hand on his forehead and sighed with relief.
"Good to see you awake, Trooper. You gave everyone quite the scare." She said as she gently started taking his vitals. More feet sounded and Bolt's eyes widened in comical horror at the amount of people running towards the room. The woman growled lowly, and Blast also frowned. The woman walked over and stood in the door with a death glare that had those running towards the room slowing down and stopping. "My patient has just woken up. You will not overwhelm him and you will not all be entering this room at one time. Two at a time!" She shouted and Blast grinned.
The Commander and one of his squad mates entered the room with more people outside the room waiting just out of his sight. Blast stood and helped him sit up. Wolffe stood with an angered expression, and his squad mate nearly slammed into Bolt in a hug. Bolt grunted and looked down at his youngest squad mate. "Charge?" He asked when he felt something wet began to soak his shirt.
"You." Bolt jerked and looked at Wolffe. The Commander was nearing the two clones on the bed. His face was curled in an odd expression, though Bolt is unable to read it. "The next time you decide to try dying like that, I'll drag you back to the living just so I can kill you myself!" The one-eyed male roared and Bolt paled with confusion. Bolt raised his hand to the side of his head and tried to figure out what he meant. He nearly died? How-? He couldn't remember what happened after he blacked out the first time.
They all heard a throat being cleared with anger. They turned to the woman, wincing at her dark glare. "What, did I just say?" She growled and Wolffe winced more. "Sorry Doc." He apologized and the woman walked over to continue check over Bolt. Bolt was still trying to remember what caused him to nearly die. His hand was gently pulled away from his head and the woman covered the area on his head with bacta. "After you were sedated at the entrance of the Temple, your body began to fall into multiple seizures. You suffered severe head trauma before that."
The woman said as she wrapped his head with bandages. Bolt remembered the pipe incident. He nodded and slowly rubbed his youngest squad mate's back. "Hix could tell you?" He asked softly and the woman nodded back. Bolt felt a tiring sensation wash over him. He leaned back against his pillow with Charge in his arms. The woman and the other two in the room. Wolffe sighed and sat on the floor near the bed and two more of his squad mates entered his room. Bolt smiled at them, tiredly.
__
Over the next few days, Bolt was greeted by many people and he was able to figure out that his head injury had saved the Galaxy from a dark fate. Bolt had pale considerably when the memory of shooting the Chancellor had come to mind. He vomited what little he had eaten when he was further told that the ex-Chancellor had been a Sith. That the man was going to use the clones to do so and that the reason his headaches had been getting worse was because his had been broken in two. One of the pieces had been digging into his brain after moving around.
Bolt was walking around the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He still had a hard time walking around due to dizziness and smaller headaches. He sat down next to one of the few trees in the room and leaned back against it. He smiled softly and decided that even if it had hurt, he was glad that his head injury ended the war in a better way.
The moment Palpatine had opened his mouth to give that fatal order, his small blue figure glitched out and a Republic Admiral named Shigga Mori took his place. A few of the other 212th troopers made a noise of confusion as their comms were called all at once.
{Priority Alert. Order 65 is now in effect. Repeat; Order 65 is now in effect. Be advised, any and all orders given by Sheev Palpatine are to be disregarded from this point on and seen as an act of treason. All units currently serving on the front with any Jedi are to carefully and quickly secure their Jedi and evacuate to their Venator. Those closest to Coruscant are to return here immediately for emergency evacuation of both Jedi and Coruscant Guard Personnel.}
The order washed over the 212th like a soothing wave. The men reacting without even waiting for the order to end. The same was followed by any battalion currently engaged in combat. The message continued.
{Those not close to Coruscant are to report to Kamino. All Non-Kaminoan personnel are to detain and contain all Kaminoan personnel until further orders are given. Be advised any and all trainers who also resist the takeover are to also be detained and contained until further notice. Chain of command on Kamino is to fall to the Jedi General or Generals on sight. Further information will be attached to a chain code after this message is completed.}
The figure of Admiral Mori flickered for a moment before the Chise male continued to speak.
{To any unit in this area, you have new orders to find and retrieve this trooper for immediate medical treatment. Any Natural Born officer that attempts to take command are to be detained and contained, then relocated to a Republic outpost.}
The image of Kix appeared, and several smaller battalions readied up to head to that area. As the message continued, people were both panicked and confused by the sudden demand for Jedi and clone evacuation. The Coruscant Guard had already been given their own version of this message as they carefully removed the members of the council from the traitor's office. Commander Fox and a few others took care of General Windu at the bottom of the window.
{For further information and questions please contact Admirals Ayo, Segura, Hinami, or myself. Comm numbers are attached to the same chain code previously stated. As of this moment onward any and all orders not given by the Admirals previously stated or the Jedi Generals and Commanders are to be disregarded and seen as an act of treason. Report into Admiral Segura once you have either reached Kamino or Coruscant. Good Luck to you all, and may the Force be with you.}
The figure of Admiral Mori vanished, and Cody immediately turned off the comm call with the traitor before he could get a word in.
--
You can add to that if you want. I kinda ran out of steam.
So, I think both the MCU and Star Wars have at least one tiny thing in common.
Everyone just absolutely hates Palpatine and Thanos.
Like, sure there are probably other things that are similar, and my brain is too slow to find them all, but it's a universal hate of both characters. This knowledge just keeps slamming me in the face.
I read something on Tumblr one day, and I have to agree with the one who wrote it.
We who write happy endings tend to do one of three things; Mention the main villain's death in passing, kill them off in some ridiculous way, or we base our story around the villain's death but it ends up not being the main plot.
And because I enjoy reading happy endings and try to avoid cannon like the plague, I have read many hilarious ways a writer has killed off both main villains.
Heck I have some small oneshots with the Sith prune dying in ridiculous ways. I haven't written anything with Thanos yet, mostly because I haven't thought of a good plot for it. Though since I've returned to reading MCU fics, that may change.
I still find the way Palpatine dies via Fox stepping on him in dragon form funny. Though Fox killing him in anyway is either funny or deserved considering the crap that Sith asshole probably put them through.
Before you ask, no I don't remember which story the dragon au is from, go look. You may run into many other stories that pull your interest.
Anyway, enough of my ramblings, just wanted to throw that out there!
Hunter was a pain to get but I finally have the bad batch! Well, Omega is in her Kamino outfit and Crosshair is in his Imperial armor but it still counts!
