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mwolf0epsilon · 8 months

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 12: Self-Harm

Summary: With Dogma in the brig and Appo's wounds patched, the medics (sans Kix who's accompanying Rex and Fives) are left to cut out the afflicted troopers out of their cocoons to prevent them from changing in the same way as the sergeant had.

Warning: N/A (only some mild grossness and body horror)

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

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[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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"I read somewhere that cutting a caterpillar out of its cocoon kills it." Pitch pointed out as he set down the final bundled-up trooper onto a medical cot. With his brow shiny with sweat and joints beginning to complain from all of the heavy lifting and carrying, he was more than a little happy to be done with the trips to and from the medical wing of the captured Umbaran base. "That they turn into bug soup, so you're not just extracting a little critter..."

"Yes well, those are caterpillars and these are grown men afflicted with some kriffed up alien disease." Coric pointed out as he ran his scanner over one of the bundles, watching the readings with great interest and concentration. "And besides, despite being unable to identify all of the components that make up this material, the scanner shows that they're still intact in there... Not turned into clone soup."

"And we don't want them to transform like Dogma did..." Twitch added. Concern clearly written all over his face as he put a hand on one of the cocoons. Feeling the softer texture rub up against the chrysalis where a vod lay dormant. "Sorry Pitch, but I really don't see any other way around it... We need to cut them out of there before the process starts and they end up aggressive and potentially out of control..."

Pitch sighed but conceded that the two were right. If they just let the troopers remain in this state, they'd just turn into the same kind of monster as Dogma. Or, if his limited knowledge of insects (which was mostly the fault of skimming through the Medic Comm Chat after Canivete went on another infodumping spree while doped out on stims) was anything to go by, they'd end up as some other equally twisted form to fit some kind of cast system.

Eusocial insects tended to be heavily specialized, after all. The most iconic of these creatures being ants, which were widespread across the galaxy with all sorts of adaptations to different kinds of alien environments.

And Dogma's attempt to construct a nest had been indicative of whatever he'd turned into being eusocial in nature. The others would no doubt have become lesser forms of whatever they were becoming, if Dogma was the 'Queen' of sorts.

"I still don't feel comfortable doing anything before the 212th joins up with us... Cani at least is really into bugs and stuff like that. She might know something we don't, like how to extract them safely from the chrysalis..." He grumbled as he went to grab something stronger than a scalpel. The soft outer-shell of the cocoon was easy enough to pierce and remove, but the chrysalis itself was too hard to cut through with one.

"Cani would know, yes." Sponge agreed as they moved over with the electric circular bonesaw, just barely able to contain their glee at being able to use the tool. "With comms down we can't really ask for advice on the matter, however. So we do as the Jedi say..."

"Which is?" Twitch asked, somewhat intrigued.

"Do or do not, there is no try... Or some fancy shmancy philosophical banthacrap like that..." Sponge shrugged as they tore up the nearest silky cocoon and began to saw into the hardened chrysalis.

Being both firm and careful so as to not harm the vod within.

The loud whir of the electric bonesaw was never a comfort when you were in the medbay. And, even if the circumstances behind its use were not the usual grim ones, it still made Pitch's stomach plummet just hearing it in action. Amputations were his least favorite procedure and the sound of the saw was just too ingrained in his brain to not associate it with just that. Unfortunately it was the tool for the job, and Sponge was nothing if not enthusiastic about being able to wield it at any given chance.

Up until the organic casing finally gave way and spat up some kind of unidentified pink juice directly onto their front. Coating half of their face, the protective mask and chest-plate they were wearing, and the bonesaw in it...

"Ough!!!" The surprised medic cried out in a panic and immediately turned off the saw, before the soiled blade could throw the strange sticky substance everywhere. The smell of it however...

Even from a distance it was absolutely overpowering.

"Oh gods! It reeks!" Twitch squeaked in horror, immediately covering his mouth and nose while his eyes watered at the violently repulsive smell. The greenish tint his complexion gained indicative of just how horrific the stench was.

"Karking sithspit!" Coric gagged, recoiling away from both the cot and Sponge, who was in no better condition as they pulled the mask off of their face and shuddered heavily with each of their own gags and retches. "What IS that?!"

"It smells like rotten jogan fruit and trench foot!" Sponge screeched as they clumsily attempted to rip off their gloves so they could wipe at their face in a desperate bid to get what little of the stuff had landed on bare skin. "And shebs! Sweaty gangrenous shebs!!! All in one!!!"

Pitch coughed and spluttered, eyes and nose dribbling helplessly as he tried to get their own throat spasms back in control before they could have a brief reunion with their mid-meal rations. The blue-haired medic managed to just barely compose himself enough to the now-open chrysalis, before noting how its integrity had gone completely out the window and how it was now spewing the vile liquid all over the floor.

Then his eyes traveled from the deflated mess of a cocoon upwards to rest on the clone that had once been contained within all of that goop.

There, right in the middle of the ruined thing, coated in all that grossness, was Lichtenberg. Or at least he assumed so, from the familiar branched scarring that was slowly being uncovered as the pink juices dripped off his prone form and onto the flooring. Something didn't look quite right tho... And, as Pitch squinted at the freed trooper, his blood ran cold as his brain fully registered what was wrong.

"Cut the others open now..." He hissed, shaking away the nausea as he looked around for something to use.

"What?" Twitch glanced over in surprise, still trying to recover himself from the assault on his senses.

"Just do it! We don't have time!" Pitch ordered as he picked up the abandoned bonesaw and practically ran to the next cocoon, being less careful than Sponge in his own turn at hacking and slashing.

Once he made a big enough horizontal gash on the hardened casing to allow the fluid to drain, he moved onto the next cocoon. And then the next one after that. And so on and so forth...

The horrific stench was incredibly overwhelming once he was done, but he didn't have the time to care. Not when he now knew they were on a much shorter deadline to get the vode out of their organic prisons. Something which the others soon noticed, when they finally got a closer look at the stirring Lich.

"Oh no..." Pitch all but heard Twitch whisper.

To put it lightly (as much as physically possible anyway), the lightning-scarred trooper was in quite the state. His non-standard blue eyes had shifted color completely, the iris and pupil becoming the same shade of pitch-black and spreading onto the once-white sclera.

The back of his neck had been completely overtaken by the scales they'd noticed a few days prior. Now appearing to be armored in the same way that Dogma's carapace was, but only just barely since the rest of his body wasn't completely encased by a shell. Only a few key points like the neck, elbows, knees, hands and feet (and a few scales dotted around his cheekbones and forehead).

While he lacked the extra eyes the sergeant had, he did sport a set of antennae that seemed to twitch as they caught a whiff of their scent. At his sides were also a brand new set of arms which were trembling from either low blood sugar, or perhaps from general weakness of being newly-formed and untrained.

In just a few hours he'd changed substantially enough to be a concern. Whatever that gross goop was, it had powerful mutagenic properties and it worked fast.

"Lich..." Sponge's voice was shaky with horror. A sentiment Pitch (and the others) echoed with their own distraught expressions.

The only positive note was that he was the only trooper who's changes had been distinctly prominent. The others were still very early on in their transition into insectoids, with just a few scales and blackened eyes to their names. No extra limbs or appendages.

The trooper in question turned to look at them. Blinking slowly and seeming to be in a post-wake up daze that was hard to shake off. Then, slowly, he began to tremble where he sat as awareness overtook him.

"W-What did you do...?" Lich croaked weakly, sorrowful voice startling them all.

"Lich?" Sponge asked, their own voice tiny as they stared wide eyed at one of the vode they knew so well (out of both affection and necessity) and often teased in good humour.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Lich screeched at them, all four arms moving up to grasp at his own shoulders. Clawed fingers squeezing tightly and causing Pitch to wince and hold out a hand in a useless attempt to placate the altered trooper. "I'M NOT READY YET!"

"Lichtenberg!" Sponge held up their own hands, hoping that by showing that they were unarmed, that maybe he'd let them get close enough to calm him. "It's ok, you're safe now!"

"NO!" Lich snarled, one hand swiping at the air between them in warning, before returning to his shoulder. Squeezing and leaving deep bloodied gashes that had all the medics flinching. "YOU RUINED IT! YOU'VE RUINED ME!"

Sponge backed away, taken aback and very clearly hurt as the heavy gunner despaired at something unknown to them.

"He... Our Leader! Our Leader will be so upset with us!" Lich whimpered as he continued to scratch himself. "He'll reject us! Because we're imperfect!!!"

All around the medbay, the other afflicted troopers began to whimper and wail as they awoke. Seeming to be in the same stupor as Lich. Some nuzzled against each other seeking comfort, while others began to claw or bite at their own skin. Trying to rip it off.

"You did this to us! You destroyed us!!!" Lich gasped between sobs before pointing an accusing and bloodied claw at the pale-faced and quaking medics. "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!!"

They had no idea what else to do but to back away and get the last few remaining sedatives they had at hand. As much as Lich's words shook them to their very core, they couldn't allow these vode to self-harm while in their inconsolable states. They'd be damned if any of them died on their watch, while they waited for the 212th to rendezvous with them.

Sometimes Pitch really hated that he'd been the one to pick up the medic role, once Chord had died and been unable to fulfill it. Had a hard time consoling himself after being made to make some pretty tough calls. But, then again, perhaps it was a tiny mercy that his little brother never had to live with the guilt that such a thankless job came with...

Force only knew he could barely manage it himself.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #clone medic coric #clone ocs #clone medic twitch #clone medic pitch #clone medic sponge #clone trooper lichtenberg

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mwolf0epsilon · 7 months

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 26: Magical Exhaustion or Injury

Summary: After going without rest for several days, Obi-wan is more than a little tired. So much so that the continuous use of the Force to keep the parasites in check, begins to take a toll on him.

Warning: N/A

Tacet belongs to @lost-on-kamino

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THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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It takes a long while to go through each and every one of the infected clones to incapacitate their respective parasites. Each instance of him calling upon the Force to get them back under their own control, draining Obi-wan in more ways than one. Not that he says anything on the matter...

The truth is, mind tricks take a lot of concentration. And the fact he feels so uncomfortable influencing the minds of the men makes it all the more difficult to maintain said concentration, while he draws on both his wit and the Force itself to impose his will on another.

He hates the idea of taking that much more of their autonomy from them, when that's all that they have ever experienced. Treated like products by the Kaminoans, or tools by those who'd rather think them as less than the clever people they actually are. Refusing to assume the guilt of having a group without recognition as sentient (a people without rights), at their beck and call no matter how much the Jedi try to advocate for them...

Something which the parasites had also done, making it all the more awful to add an extra layer manipulation over that of the parasite's.

That said if the continuous use of mind tricks is bothering Cody, the commander certainly doesn't comment on it. Neither does Canivete, who busies herself with looking over the men whose transformations had been interrupted. Who remained incomplete and shaky on their feet, as they become aware of themselves once more.

Aware of what they had all nearly become, while still coming out of those cocoons feeling alien in their own bodies.

"You should rest, sir..." Wooley offers, the kindly trooper looking all kinds of haggard after everything they were all put through. He still had a bit of webbing stuck to his hair, but didn't make much effort to get rid of it. Probably not finding it worth wasting his time on tidying his appearance.

"I'll be fine..." Obi-wan tries to shrug off the trooper's worries, focusing instead on the scene before him. Anything but the ache in his muscles and back, or the slight headache that had been gradually setting in.

He watched quietly as Pretty Boy helped his older brother, Lichtenberg, sit down on one of the few crates dotted around. The mutated trooper looking sorry for both himself and for the nasty looking bump he'd caused his brother, during their brief altercation.

Reaching with careful clawed fingers, Lich carefully brushed his knuckles against the bandage on his younger brother's forehead. A gesture which the lancer rejected by pushing his brother's hand away and proudly up puffing his chest. Refusing any sort of apology and proclaiming with pride that what had transpired was simply a slightly stronger than usual kedalbe, and that surely someone like him could easily take such a blow with the thick skin he had.

Or rather, thick skull, as Lich put it with an amused but clearly relieved snort. It was a very touching moment, in this otherwise terrible set of circumstances. That Pretty Boy could so easily forgive his batchmate despite the other acting irrationally.

"With all due respect, that's a load of bantha crap sir..." Wooley huffed in disapproval, insisting on the matter with clear determination. He'd grown into himself since joining the 212th, no longer the awkward rookie he'd once been. That much was clear. "You've said it yourself before. Using the Force in excess is very draining, and you've been on your feet going through all the infected without stopping..."

"...Perhaps I could do with some rest." The bearded Jedi finally relented, taking a seat on the floor so as to hide the way his legs were beginning to shake.

He was actually pretty tired but, with how things currently stood, he couldn't spare all that long to recover his strength. There was no telling how long the parasites would remain dormant, and he really didn't want to risk one or more troopers suddenly attacking them without warning.

"Take your time." Cody ran a hand over his face, his antennae twitching as he tried to figure out what to do. "We need a plan of action..."

"We need more than that..." Canivete grumbled.

They were both right, of course. They needed a plan and the necessary resources to pull it off. Which would mean getting communications back online (again) and perhaps trying to contact the Venators that were currently in orbit. Although, what else they could do in this situation, he really did not know.

Because, with how tired he currently was, Obi-wan would not be able to pull off anything too substantially extraordinary. Like keeping the men under his direct control while also fighting the much stronger Tup...

For all he knew, the moment they were in range of each other, the mind tricks might simply wear off faster. And even if they didn't, there was simply no way the men wouldn't react to the pheromones of what was essentially their 'Queen'.

"I can get comms back online." Tacet offered. "But I don't think it's a good idea for the Venators to land..."

"No, it most definitely would not be a good idea." Obi-wan agreed with that assessment. "With Tup still on the loose, there could be a risk of further infection."

"Or worse, they could get caught by another Vixus carrier..." Canivete pointed out. "Waxer and I found one pretty easily. Who's to say there aren't more in the area?"

The start of a second outbreak would not be ideal, no. Not to mention they had no idea how Tup might react to a competing Hive suddenly cropping up.

A territory dispute could only end in disaster for all parties involved.

"Maybe we could request aerial support from both Commander Tano and a pilot squadron each of the 501st and 212th?" Cody suggested, one claw tapping on his chin while he crossed his lower set of arms. It was fascinating to watch how quickly he'd adapted to his changes.

"That might attract the attention of the Umbarans..." Canivete shook her head, gnawing uneasily on her lower lip as she considered their options. "We need to be more subtle about this..."

Obi-wan limited himself to listening, his own mind going a mile a minute as he tried to figure out what might be the best course of actions. As he did so, however, he felt his eyelids beginning to droop. Perhaps he had underestimated just how tired he had become...

Surely... If he closed his eyes for just a second...

"Maybe we could get a drop-ship? Have a few of the healthy troopers board and brief the others?" Tacet proposed. "Then they could come back with extra supplies..."

"Again, too flashy..." Cody shook his head no. "We can contact the ships and brief the men, but anything more than that will tip off the enemy that we might be in trouble... And then we'll definitely have emboldened Umbarans thrown into the mix..."

"Sir, are you feeling ok?" Wooley asked, noticing the state Obi-wan was in. The Jedi blinking his eyes back open and regarding him with a slightly confused look.

He also noticed how spotty his vision seemed to him. That couldn't be good.

"I..."

Canivete was suddenly in front of him, a frown on her face as she pulled one of his eyelids back and flashed a small light into his eye. The sting barely registered. Which he supposes displeases her further.

"Splendid..." She grumbled sarcastically. "Commander, do be a dear and bring our idiot Jetii some water and a ration bar..."

"I'm--"

"If you say you're fine sir, I will knock you on your shebs." She paused, squinting at him. "I'll drag you back onto your feet, and then knock you on your shebs that is... I am well aware you haven't rested much in the past few days, and that you were already in no condition to go around doing space wizard things with your space wizard powers."

"The Jedi are not wizards..." He rolled his eyes at the incorrect moniker that many people, the troops included, often denominated them by. The Jedi were monks. Not wizards.

There was a very big difference!

"They are, from a certain point of view." She teased, before her tone turned serious all over again. "But seriously, you're only mortal sir... Force or no Force, you need to eat and sleep just like the rest of us. You're running on fumes like we all are..."

"It's just a little Force Exhaustion..."

"And my name is Shirley." Canivete huffed. "Ration bar, hydration and rest. We'll figure this out, so long as we're all in good enough condition to use our brains."

"...Very well."

He wouldn't argue with a medic. The medics could be scary when they were upset. And Canivete was the owner of a very short fuse whenever she was in mother hen mode, which extended to her superior officers. Or at least the ones she liked.

He supposes it should be a comfort that she liked him enough to care as strongly as she did. Even though he'd gone against his word and used the Force on her brothers.

Rather than devil you know, he supposes...

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #clone trooper wooley #clone ocs #clone medic canivete #arf trooper tacet #clone trooper lichtenberg #clone trooper pretty boy

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mwolf0epsilon · 5 months

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Kinda messed up that if Lichtenberg hadn't ended up being left behind on Umbara, he would have just basically died.

The only way for the Long Name Squad to survive the war ultimately came at the cost of severely traumatising Lich, condemning PB to perpetually punish himself out of guilt, and to worsen Olly's abandonment issues and mistrust of people.

#star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #Long Name Squad #clone trooper Lichtenberg #clone trooper Pretty Boy #riot trooper Olly Olly Oxenfree

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year

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Kamino Clone Lot Archive: Batch #2021127, CT-1901, CT-1906, CT-1909

Today is Lich's, PB's and Olly's decant day. Aka their "Ollyday". I thought the best way to celebrate was to show their baby photo from the Kamino Lot Archive. They sure were peaceful little ones.

#Eps Draws:#star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #clone trooper lichtenberg #clone trooper pretty boy #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #clone cadets

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mwolf0epsilon · 8 months

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 8: Dissociation

Summary: It's not the sudden outbreak of strange localized rashes that tips off the medics that something might be wrong with the men. What really clues them in is the behavioral changes.

Warning: N/A

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

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THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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As soon as the 501st and 212th parted ways, Dogma's bizarre infected rash had all but slipped from the medics's minds. It was, after all, just an unusual blemish that would eventually go away if he used the topical cream he'd been prescribed. A very innocuous matter that would ultimately be rendered as an insignificant footnote on the sergeant's medical records.

At least that had been what they had assumed...

Now that more cases of the same localized lesion had cropped up (all of them fairly freshly afflicted, and less of a mess than what Dogma's own skin had looked like after he'd scratched it raw), they weren't so sure. If anything, they were left confused by this sudden bout of allergic reactions that were plaguing the vode.

That said, as shameful as it was to admit, they hadn't taken it as seriously as they probably should have, when things were still relatively tame. Instead they'd simply tried the same topical cream treatment they'd advised Dogma to follow, and once again hoped for the best.

That had been a huge mistake on their part.

The rashes themselves hadn't really tipped them off to this being a much more grievous event. Umbara was a strange planet with some very strange foliage. Skin allergies caused by the pollen and unusual flora wouldn't be that unexpected, considering none of the clones had really been inoculated against potential environmental hazards from planets that should have been the Republic's allies.

What changed their minds on the seriousness of the outbreak, were the gradual behavioral changes. The state of subdued calmness that kept those who had rashes in a sedate and almost listless manner. The vacancy behind their eyes as they suffered through brief periods of confusion followed by episodes of dissociation.

The men were not in their right minds. Whatever was afflicting them was clearly both physical and neurological. And what's worse, they had very little time to sit down and attempt to diagnose the issue for sure. Their gear far too limited for a more exact analysis.

And especially not when the enemy began to throw everything they had at them, in an attempt to bar any sort of progression they made towards the Umbaran Capitol.

"It can't be an allergy." Coric shook his head as he turned off the small flashlight he'd been using to examine Lichtenberg's absent gaze. The pupils at least seemed to react to the light, and his tear-ducts still worked remarkably well, but otherwise the trooper hadn't shown a modicum of discomfort at being exposed to a sudden bright light. It was like looking at a dead man's eyes. "Meningitis, maybe? We have no idea what we've been breathing in since we landed. A bacterial infection sparked by some kind of airborne fungus might explain things..."

"Then why are only a few of us succumbing?" Kix asked, clearly in disagreement at Coric's assessment. "And why wouldn't our initial scans detect some kind of spore on arrival?"

"And what of the rashes?" Pitch added, pointing towards the listless Lich's neck. "They all start in the exact same place. I could understand the infected rash causing an intense enough fever that they'd become incoherent. But we still have no idea what's causing the rashes themselves, or why the men are reacting so badly to them..."

"It can't be airborne, otherwise we'd all be sick for sure..." Twitch agreed with the two of them, seeming to be just as at a loss for what to think of this. Still he tried to rationalize what could be behind these strange symptoms the sickly troopers had displayed, starting with the highly localized skin abrasion. "Could be a bug bite, maybe? Some kind of mosquito that carries an as of yet unknown tropical disease?"

"That is an option." Sponge nodded. "But it still doesn't explain why there's so few afflicted... We've passed by all kinds of stagnant pools of water and other such breeding grounds for disease carrying insects. Only about 12 of the men got sick."

"Maybe it's rare?" Twitch offered.

"Might as well add that to the list of potential suspects." Coric sighed, bringing up his datapad and glaring at the very limited pool of information they had. They hadn't really managed to compile all that much, since the men all got sick around the same time. "What are we missing?"

"Aside from an actual concrete vector and an identity for our mystery illness?" Kix rolled his eyes. "Medical supplies. A functional medbay. Something less basic than a scanner and field triage..."

"Not to mention a Chancellor that doesn't call our General off planet to do little gods only know what..." Sponge bitterly remarked, still upset at the news that Skywalker was bailing on them and leaving the 501st in some unknown replacement General's hands.

The medics all fell into an uncomfortable silence. An uneasy quiet that was only broken by Lich's incessant scratching at his blighted skin. Attention all turned towards him, there was at least some relief at finding that life had returned to his eyes. Although the absolute look of miserable discomfort wasn't too reassuring.

"Quit scratching, you'll make it worse dipshit!" Sponge huffed, pulling Lich's hands away from the back of his neck.

One might balk at the thought of a medic insulting their patient but, considering the lengthy history both clones shared at this point, it wasn't unusual for Sponge to spit a quick insult at Lich specifically.

It was less of a derogatory term and more of an affectionate jab that was absolutely dripping with concern for Lichtenberg's well being. Sponge was the one who signed off on all of his medical flimsy-work after all. They knew his particular streak of bad luck when it came to injuries out in the field.

This? This was threading new waters for them...

"C-Can't help it... It itches!" Lich gulped uneasily, looking towards their primary medic with something akin to barely restrained fear. "It itches all over!"

The heavy gunner tugged his hands free from their cantankerous vod, and went back to scratching wildly. Only, instead of scratching his neck he was now frantically raking his nails over his back and chest in clear desperation for relief.

Sharing a concerned look, all five medics approached the uncomfortable trooper and pulled the top half of his body-glove down to expose his torso.

To their horror Lichtenberg was right in saying he was itchy all over.

The rash had disseminated downwards and over towards his front. Pus-filled blisters and boils littering the surface of his reddened epidermis, reminding the older medics somewhat of that one time Commander Tano had attempted to cook some kind of quiche recipe from her home-planet, and had ended up with something visually out of a horror holo.

Kix and Coric still gagged at the memory of poorly cooked nuna meat dripping with a disgustingly milky cheese sauce.

"It's spreading..." Twitch whispered, looking somewhat perturbed by the new development.

"Sithspit... Look at his neck..." Pitch pointed in horror.

The initial point where the rash had first appeared looked crusted over. But something was strange about the scabbing process. It didn't look like your regular dried clot. What should have been the familiar dark reddish brown of dried up platelets, looked more like some kind of cluster of black scale-like material.

Sponge squinted at it, seeming to give the stuff a quick visual appraisal, before shaking their head in absolute disbelief at what they were seeing.

"Reminds me of... Of barnacles, almost..." They kept their tone even, but the horror in their words was palpable. "Whatever this is, we definitely need a fully equipped medbay, not just our scanners and medikits... We're in over our heads."

To make things worse, Lich had quieted down again. Stuck in yet another dissociative episode, no doubt. His usually cheery expression completely blank and neutral. Eyes emptier than the void of space.

Whatever this was, was so much more serious than they'd initially thought. No topical cream was going to be a quick fix. Which seemed to dawn on the youngest of them.

"Wait... If Lich is this bad and he's only just recently started feeling sick..." Twitch bit his lip nervously as he looked at his older vode. "T-Then what about Dogma? He came to us with the same rash three days ago..."

Good question, as ever since he'd come to them, they hadn't actually seen much of the sergeant. He wasn't with Tup, who had mostly just been hanging out with Fives and Hardcase. Something which Sponge had commented on briefly that morning.

They had thought it very strange.

Now they were all beginning to worry about his apparent absence. If the more recently afflicted soldiers were this bad off, then what of Dogma who, to their knowledge, was the very first one to come down with the mystery illness? What had become of the sergeant?

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #clone medic coric #clone medic kix #clone ocs #clone medic pitch #clone medic twitch #clone medic sponge #clone trooper lichtenberg

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mwolf0epsilon · 8 months

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 16: Hospital

Summary: Loath as he was to admit it, Coric had to do just as Cani had suggested and leave the 212th to stall the infected long enough that they'd be able to escape the base. At least if they got to the medical facility and found a cure, the other battalion's efforts would not be in vain...

Warning: N/A

Here’s what Tup currently looks like!

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch and Tacet belong to @lost-on-kamino

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"SCATTER!!!"

All hell had broken loose the moment Tup had quite literally bashed down the doors to the medbay. His razor sharp pincers and startlingly bulky and powerful body, making short work of the doorway's integrity with terrifying ease.

All who stood who were uninfected by the parasitic menace, had been frozen stiff from shock at the brutal transformation the tear-drop tattooed clone had undergone. Only to be forced to act when the now beyond monstrous kih'vod roared at them.

Malicious intent more than a little clear.

Reacting on instinct alone, Coric had immediately called for the huddled up group of medics to separate. All four of them aarrowly avoiding getting violently crushed to death by the ferocious beast's sudden charge towards them.

Pitch, Sponge and Twitch luckily did as ordered, moving out of harm's way as quickly as physically possible. But it came with an unexpected consequence (although, to be fair, the medbay's size greatly contributed to the unfortunate outcome). All cots that were in Tup's path were completely ripped out from where they were bolted to the floor, and sent flying all about as the specialist collided with them.

Unable to stop himself due to his four clawed feet slipping on the tiles like a clumsy fawn skidding on ice.

The aggro'd patients that had been strapped to said cots managing to then free themselves from their now damaged restraints, and quickly get up onto unsteady feet. Adding even more problems to the huge one they already had at hand, since the partially transformed men were clearly readying themselves to aid their leader in this assault against the healthy troopers.

"Coric! It's you and the rest of your medical team he wants!" Canivete called out in warning, recalling Cody's promise of bodily harm. Aimed directly at the 501st's primary caregivers. "Get yourself and your team out of here, and get to that damn medical facility! We'll try to hold them off for as long as possible!"

"We can't just leave you to deal with this on your own!" Coric shook his head, looking towards the monstrous form of Tup that was back to charging at the medics. Trying to grab at them with his two large mantis-like pincers, kick with all four of his insectoid legs, or lash out at them with a long prehensile tail tipped with a sharp looking cerci.

None of which were options any of them wanted to experience.

"So you'd rather be ripped apart and then have your insides eaten, 'Dusk of the Undead' style?!" Cani cried out in disbelief as she ran to help her General pin down Commander Cody, who was now very much trying to fight off the Jedi's grip to join in on the full on brawl that had broken out. "Very smart choice! 11/10 stars, genius!!!"

SCREEEEAAAAH!!!!!!!!

The 501st's CMO screamed in fright as he just about managed to avoid getting rammed into a wall and turned to human paste by Tup. The latter staggering himself from the harsh collision, while the former ducked under his whipping tail before getting as far away from him as possible.

The Umbaran base's medbay was far too small for all the action going on within it. Sooner or later one of them would end up cornered and unable to get away in time, and then their tip-yip would definitely be cooked.

Loath as he was to admit it, Coric had to do just as Cani had suggested and leave the 212th to stall the infected long enough that they'd be able to escape the base. At least if they got to the medical facility and found a cure, the other battalion's efforts would not be in vain...

"Sponge, Twitch, Pitch! Move out!!!" The senior medic hollered for the rest of his medical team to retreat. Ducking yet again under Tup's lashing tail and knocking down one of the infected vode who had tried to sneak up on him to grapple him to the floor.

"But what about Kix?!" Twitch asked as he was pulled behind Pitch who was back to wielding improvised weapons, using one of the damaged cot legs as a makeshift baton to beat back Lich's relentless attacks. Earning himself quite a few scratches for his troubles before Pretty Boy intervened, headbutting his older batcher hard enough that even Sponge winced at the resulting crack that ended with both troopers on the floor looking dazed.

"We'll find a way to contact him! Go!" General Kenobi ordered as he let go of Cody, trusting Canivete to kept a hold of his second in command while the Jedi used the Force to keep Tup where he was, so as to allow the four medics an easier escape from the ongoing battle.

Reluctantly, they all bolted for the exit. Forcing themselves not to look back so as to not waste any of the precious seconds that they had been granted. The enraged roars and screeches of the infected ringing in their ears as they did so.

---

Tacet liked to consider themselves a very pragmatic and practical sort. They saw a problem, they fixed it. Then they moved onto the next problem and fixed that too. So on and so forth. No dilly-dallying.

When comms had begun to act up, they and the rest of the 212th's top Slicers had done their very best to try to combat the issue. Something the 501st had also no doubt attempted, before they'd become overwhelmed with whatever had crippled their efforts so terribly.

That said, Tacet couldn't help but wonder why no one had discovered that the communications tower itself was the source of their signal problems. Because from the moment they set foot inside the building, they immediately figured out that someone had purposefully put a jammer inside the main console.

Now, it wasn't like the 501st were in any way incompetent or remotely gullible. Far from it, actually! But it just felt awfully strange that no one had even considered the possibility of sabotage, when nothing they did cleared up the signal issues they'd been having. Then again, after the incident with Sargeant Slick, perhaps suspicions of such treasonous acts just came more naturally to the 212th specifically...

As loathsome as it was to suspect their own siblings, it was not an impossibility. Negative sentiment towards the war and the Republic did occasionally crop up among the vode who'd suffered through the worst campaigns. Most never acted upon those thoughts, instead becoming more cynical and contrary. The ones who did, however, either deserted or resorted to this sort of tactic.

If just to feel like they'd at least made their point.

That said, all suspicions of dissent aside, Tacet did have their doubts that this was done by a jaded vod. Not when things had already been so out of hand for everyone involved. It didn't rule out sabotage completely, as the late Krell had a certain reputation that was hard for them to ignore (they'd heard about the Venator that had gone missing on his watch, as well as Beat's experiences with the two traumatized ARCs that General Koon had brought into the 104th on request of one of his natborn engineers). Unfortunately with the Besalisk dead, they didn't really think they'd ever find enough proof to point the finger...

So instead of any further speculating on their end, they decided to focus entirely on getting rid of the jammer and send the all clear to their superior officers. And no sooner did they do so, did they immediately receive an emergency call from their General.

And it seemed like things had only gotten worse in their absence.

But of course there was really no time to consider the whims of the universe when they had a job to do, so they simply listened to the Jedi, nodded quietly, and went on to pass the message to the intended party. Hopefully Captain Rex, ARC Fives and Medic Kix wouldn't be too busy to check their comms...

---

Dogma's desperate screams and garbled words were still painfully loud, despite the trio of Rex, Kix and Fives having run out of the brig and into the lift to go inspect the commotion they had heard coming from the other side of the base.

On the long way down they had all gotten an emergency call from one of the 212th's men, Tacet, informing them to get out of the base and to get to the nearest medical facility ASAP, where the other four 501st medics were already headed to.

As it turned out, Dogma hadn't been lying. He wasn't the one in charge of the insectoid hierarchy he now belonged to. A brief shaky holo of what Tup had turned into making their stomachs plummet as they realized everyone was still very much in danger.

Especially now that they had pissed off the 'Queen' of the hive.

"If memory serves right, the nearest hospital is six clicks north." Fives brought up the map he and the rest of the recon squads had made on their intel gathering missions. "It's where most of the initial enemy patrols were spotted."

"And here we thought they were just germophobes..." Rex bitterly remarked as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "No wonder they all had hazmat gear incorporated in their armor...This whole planet's trying to kill anything in sight, even from the inside out..."

"I'll bet you they must have expected us all to get sick while we were out here..." Kix murmured to himself. "And then when they saw we were still advancing to the capitol despite being worse for wear, they started throwing everything our way..."

"Or, they saw some of the men were sick with this, and decided they'd rather go nuclear on our shebs than allow us anywhere where we could get medical treatment for this crap..." Fives offered.

"Both plausible theories." Rex conceded "But not what we should be focusing on. Right now we either reach that facility and find a way to put an end to whatever has done this to the men, or give the others enough time to do it themselves."

"And if neither group gets there in the end?" Kix reluctantly asked.

"...I haven't thought that far ahead, but none of what comes to mind is... Ideal for any of our long-term survival." The blond Captain said as he looked down at his boots, unable to meet their eyes.

He needn't explain himself.

If this nightmarish mess couldn't be fixed, then there was no way they could allow it to spread to the in-orbit venators or the Republic itself. A disease like this would wreck havoc all across the galaxy if left unchecked, and not a singular clone or Jedi would ever allow something so catastrophic to happen on their watch.

But that would have to be their final resort.

Right now they had one little tiny chance to make things right, so long as there really was a way to cure this horrific blight...

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year

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Meanwhile, in Pretty Boy's Saloon

Dogma, downing his 11th glass of Spotchka with a grimace: Urgh... How can any of you stand this stuff? It tastes like hand sanitizer! Lich, smiling as he downs his own glass: Easy! My nerves are pretty much fried from all the electrical shocks, and I can only taste three things because my taste buds don't work right. It's the feeling I'm after, not the flavor. Dogma: Speaking of which, I don't feel any better than when you brought me here... Olly, rolling his eyes: You're not supposed to feel better. Alcohol doesn't help you feel any less like life is a karked up mess, it just numbs your senses to the point it doesn't bother you as much... PB, refilling their cups: And if it's a quick numbing you want, then Spotchka is drink for the job. It's a clone favorite as well, and my best seller. Dogma, already quite tipsy and still drinking despite not liking the taste: Fantastic... Urgh, what am I even doing? I basically won my position as sheriff, I'm struggling to come to terms with so many things that happened in my life, I couldn't even face Rex when Mae offered me the opportunity to talk to him... I'm barely a person at all! How could Sponge think I'm well adjusted enough to be a dad?! Lich: Hey now, you're doing great all things considered... Olly: And you're not the only one faking it until they make it. PB, grinning as he pours another glass: Also, any and all crisis you have that lead you to drinking yourself silly earn me a pretty credit! Dogma, not entirely convinced: ... Lich: The point is, none of us really have it figured out even if we pretend to. Sith-hells, not even Sponge has it figured out! And they have 10 karking cadets to take care of. Most of which are little terrors mind you... Olly: He's right. Lich: Of course I am! I'm the ori'vod here after all! PB: Uh-huh... Lich: Look Dogma, it's ok to get the jitters sometimes because you're nervous about the future. Especially when you don't got the past figured out quite yet... But to that I say, do it the natborn way. Dogma, blinking: The what...? Lich: Oh, you know! Go at your own pace! Natborns don't get flash-training to learn all the basics when they're still in their cots. They have to endure years of being a useless little lump of tubie, fall on their shebs a lot, and then hope the lesson sticks. Take tubie steps my friend! Trip up, get back up, do something stupidly reckless to get over whatever fears you might have. Go out there and seize the day! Dogma, who's clearly drunk at this point: Uh... Something stupidly reckless... You know, you're right! You're absolutely right! I should do something absolutely catastrophically dumb just to fall and nail the landing! Olly & PB: What...??? Lich, grinning from ear to ear: Hell yeah brother! You're getting it! Dogma: I'm gonna... I'm gonna parkour off the roof! Lich: Yeah! Olly: Uh... PB: Dogma I don't think-- Dogma: I'm gonna comm Mae and ask her to patch me through to Rex, so that I can call him a bitch to his face! Lich: YEAH! Olly: Oh dear... PB: Uhhhh.... Dogma: I'M GONNA COMM HONDO OHNAKA AND TELL HIM TO COME BEND ME OVER MY WORK DESK! Lich, Olly & PB: Dogma, staggering onto his feet: Thanks Lich! I owe you one brother! -runs out of the Saloon in a wobbly fashion- Lich, Olly & PB: Lich: Sponge is going to kill me. Olly: The entire Guard Remnant is going to kill you. PB: Olly and I will make sure your funeral is beautiful once you're well and truly killed dead.

#star wars #the clone wars #forceful intervention au #clone trooper dogma #clone ocs #clone trooper lichtenberg #clone trooper pretty boy #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #Lich accidentally incurs the wrath of Sponge and the Guard Remnant by getting Dogma incredibly drunk #Lich will be dearly missed #the question is whether or not Dogma will remember anything he said in the morning #for his sake lets hope not because he'll die of embarrassment

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year

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Mentos and Coke

Lich, messaging his batchmates via private comm chat: What happens if you swallow a whole pack of mentos while having a stomach full of coke? Olly, knowing this is a bad idea: Don't do that. PB, also knowing this is definitely a bad idea and that Lich might try to do it: Pretty sure your medic puts you down like a lame massif. Lich, too curious for his own good: BRB, gonna try it out. Olly: Please don't, I need at least one brother I can tolerate. PB: Ow my feelings :'( Olly: You don't have feelings. PB: >:( Sponge, using Lich's comm: This is medic Sponge of the 501st speaking, Pretty Boy & Olly, your brother is a dumbass and I'd like one of you to at least be responsible for him. PB: We try but he's actually the eldest of the batch so he doesn't listen to us. Olly: ^ Sponge: Force give me patience because if it gives me any more strength it won't be a stomach ulcer that kills Lich...

#incorrect quotes #star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #clone trooper lichtenberg #clone trooper pretty boy #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #clone medic sponge

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years

Text

Exhale the Paint Fumes

Summary: Olly's spiraling smells a little like paint...

Recommended Song: Slow Walk

Canon Characters: Commander Fox, Clone Trooper Dogma, Sargent Hound, Grizzer the Massiff

Original Characters: Riot Trooper Olly Olly Oxenfree, Clone Trooper Lichtenberg Clone Trooper Pretty Boy, K9 Trooper Redacted, Communications Corrie Rhythm(@british-hero) Riot Trooper Red Alert(@british-hero), K9 Trooper Bumblebee(@british-hero), Clone Medic Remedy(@kkrazy256), Drift(@calamity-aims), Clone Medic Croissant(@gaeasun), Clone Medic Nocte(@purgetrooperfox).

[This story is heavily inspired by @calamity-aims 's fic "To Unexplain the Unforgivable", and @gaeasun 's fic "The Two Hundred". I would suggest giving those a read beforehand.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Fox's office smells like fresh paint. The unpleasant smelling vapors cling to the walls, furniture and nostrils, even if the coat itself is not present on them. Because whenever the marshal commander of the Guard breaks out the paint, usually it's to add another name to his vambrace.

If Olly were the kind of clone to wax needless poetics, he'd likely akin both the scent and effects of the fumes to be what loss physically smelled and felt like. Seeing as he's no bard, and Fox is certainly no philosophical major, he never words such absurdity. There's just no point in trying to make a tragedy into art.

It was 200 this time...

200 names delicately etched on a piece of armour that had seen far too much in far too little time. 200 names that make the eyes water and the nose itch. 200 men erased and replaced like glitched software. 200 brothers that Olly has lost. That were stolen from Fox's attentive and caring hands because of something well outside of his control.

Neither of them speak. There really isn't any need for that. Not much either of them could say that would ease the pain or guilt, nor do they particularly feel like breaking the somber silence.

It's a minute of remembrance, honoring the not quite dead.

If Olly focuses hard enough he could almost hear the voices of the past. Each carefully caligraphed letter of a name so full of the impression of memories, that both gave him the drive to go on, and a newfound crack his already quite broken heart. A crack that threatens to finally shatter it into a million pieces.

He wonders what is going through Fox's mind as he completes his 109th name. What tormenting horrors poke and prod at his brain as he tries not to quake and quiver with each one he catalogs into somewhere so private and close. Probably the same kind of monsters that are gnawing at Olly's own gray matter. Monsters that remind him that he's lost everything and everyone to the cruelty of the galaxy. The indifference of Kamino, Coruscant and the GAR.

His unnamed ori'vode and vod'ika, spirited away by the demagolka that haunted his nightmares. Lich, lost and very likely devoured by the all-consuming shadows of Umbara's unending darkness. Pretty Boy, a traitorous defector that turned-tail and saved himself instead of coming back to help him grieve their brother. Rhythm, wiped clean like he was nothing more than a stubborn stain that needed to be removed from a fancy carpet.

Hell hath no fury like a vod who's got nothing left to lose. And yet... Olly can't bring himself to be angry anymore.

At least not right now.

156 names on a singular vambrace. Some older than the ones Fox has just added to the ever growing list. The other will no longer be bare. Each addition kills another piece of both of their souls.

Everyone knew riot troopers never got decommissioned nor reconditioned. There's no need because they're "mindless brutes". Why "fix" something that exists only to push back a crowd and deliver a violent beating? It would defeat the purpose of such a henously glamour-less position.

It also meant that those who'd endured the horrors of their hard to survive job, were left to sit around idly and helplessly watch their brothers be taken away from them. Sometimes never to return. Other times being brought back wrong and never the same.

Red Alert always told the Shiny Turtles not to get too attached, even if he himself failed to follow his own rule. Olly simply told them to hold on to the memories they'd made, and to look after the broken shells that came back from Kamino.

Not all of them took it well. It was hard on the heart. He'd caught so many kih'vode hanging from the drafters that at this point the idea of suicide within the barracks was not a novelty.

Telling Fox of these incidents always meant more paint smell. More fumes. More headaches. More stinging eyes and noses. More guilt, retching and dry-heaving over a dirty toilet bowl in some dingy establishment's bathroom.

Never a good idea to throw up in the Coruscant Guard barracks, their plumbing was and forever would be quite shitty.

Olly doesn't really know why he bothers to stick around to watch Fox whenever that happens. There's no point to him watching his commanding officer, his Guard ori'vod, adding the names to his armour.

It's not like the commander would ever dare to skip over a name.

Once, before Remedy got wiped that is, the bespectacled medic had suggested the methodical way Fox wrote the names might simply help the riot trooper to relax. Each line and curve forcing him to focus and take deeper even breaths.

Maybe he'd been right.

Time always seemed to slow down and make more sense when he sat by the marshal commander in these moments of sorrow.

200 names spread between two vambraces. Fox isn't bothering to conceal the hitch of his breath or the tears running down his face. Olly squeezes his shoulder once before leaving him to grieve in peace. Force gods only knew he was hanging by the fraying thread of what little dignity he still had remaining.

The veteran riot trooper refused to be the one to take that from him.

Olly's unofficial patrols start the moment he leaves the marshal commander's office. They're self-imposed. A personal mission he'd given himself the first time something like this had transpired. A way to reassure his weakened mind and broken heart, despite it doing exactly the opposite on most cases.

The outliers gave him hope. The hopeless causes took it away.

He takes a deep breath, inhales the "clean air" and the exhales the paint fumes he'd been breathing in all morning. Exhales his nerves and tries not to cough up a lung in the process. The stinging in his nasal cavity and throat are still there from the light chemical burns. And then he makes his way towards his various destinations.

His first stop is down in Storage where '22 can always be found.

Even after a full mind-scrub, Dogma's quirks hadn't quite left him. They likely never would, no matter how many times he got reconditioned, considering he'd always just been wired differently from the great majority of the rest of them. He still liked order and organization. Thrived doing inventory work.

He just doesn't respond the his old name anymore.

That's fine. He seems to like it when Olly calls him D22. Never asks why Olly walks in with his right first bandaged, just accepts the treat he forcefully pilfered from a vending machine that was located on one of the various blind-spots of Coruscant. The larger trooper used to hate stealing, now it was a necessity if he wanted to offer something his siblings were more inclined to eat.

'22 loved cupcakes just as much as Dogma. Olly can't bring back his kih'vod, but he can bring '22 a cupcake.

His second stop is the medbay, even if he hates going in there.

Seeing what used to be Remedy walking around with cropped hair and no glasses is very jarring. Not only to him but to the medics that hadn't been wiped yet. He could see it in Croissant's and Nocte's eyes whenever they thought he wasn't watching. Knew they feared what might befall them if the chancellor got upset at Fox anytime soon.

The CMO had always been a frowner, which hadn't changed. None of the reconned clones ever really smiled much.

8847 always zeroes in on his injured hand before anyone else could register the riot trooper's presence in the medbay. Before any of this happened, Olly would have shied away from his touch. Refusing to show weakness even to the kindly medics. A couple of glass shards in his hand were nothing compared with his full body pains after all.

Now he lets '47 do as he pleases with the injuries.

He's taken up whittling. He's pretty crap at it. Laughably so. There's always some shitty wooden figurine in one of his pouches to offer to the medic as a "gesture of gratitude" for the medical care. 8847 doesn't seem to understand why he gives them to him but, according to Nocte, he hasn't thrown any away.

Olly can't tell if he's just trying to be polite or if he's trying to figure out why anyone would make and keep tiny wooden trash. Sith-hells, maybe '47 is just trying to figure out what the hell any of the figurines are meant to be. The little tooka he'd tried to carve was so bad it kind of looked like a malformed star fighter.

His third stop is the kennels.

Olly is absolutely terrified of the massiffs kept there, but he forces himself to swallows his fear like a hard pill. He'd never really seen eye to eye with Hound, but he was still a vod. And he'd been Rhythm's friend. Now he didn't even seem to acknowledge the massiff he'd bonded with prior to being reconned. Something which registered with the creature, if the way it now behaved so sadly was anything to go by.

He'd taken a hard hit. That much was obvious from the way he looked at people and animals so vacantly. Olly mostly came to make sure he ate something at least once or twice per day. With shaky hands he also made sure to refill the bowls in the kennels, even though the movements of the caged little beasts made him recoil like he'd been burned.

The riot trooper was ashamed to admit he often didn't stick around to even have an attempted conversation with the K9 trooper. He left that up to Redacted who had taken on the majority of the work in the kennels since Hound and Bumblebee got wiped.

His fourth stop takes him straight to Drift.

6147 greets him stiffly as usual. He'd been an arc trooper once, and also one of very few vode that ever dared to spar with a turtle that stood at 6 feet tall and was as built as Alpha karking 17.

Everyone knew Olly's strength was abnormal. Alarmingly so.

Another factor which adds to his chronic aches. Human muscle was never meant to be used at the same capacity as a woolamander would use it. Adrenaline was thus the key to unlock such power. Olly had learned early on to control the lack of restraints Sulu Ra's serum had cursed him with, but he couldn't mend what the strain did to him. No one could.

He'd likely end up permanently disabled one day.

Despite the danger of real injury being an accidental likelihood of facing him on the mat, Drift had never feared him as an opponent in the slightest. Seemed fond of the challenge.

Drift had fought him like he'd fought any other brother. The ARC had even beat him on several occasions by being perceptive, quick and witty. Only one of those things hadn't left him. The lack of fear.

6147 hadn't beat him yet.

He was slower, less coordinated, less aware of his surroundings. Olly barely did much in their spars. Just let the vod burn the energy. Eventually the former ARC would just fall on his shebs on his own and listlessly sit there, seeming almost at a loss for why all of this felt wrong. It wasn't right to see him life this.

His stops took him everywhere around the Coruscant Guard HQ. Fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth... ...Two hundreth. His final stop was always Rhythm.

It was also the one that hurt him the most.

There was just nothing there. Nothing left of the clumsy but highly spirited vod'ika that reminded him so much of his own batchmates. Kamino had completely ruined him, from cutting the locks he'd so proudly styled, to removing the very light in those rich dark eyes of his. The only recognizable aspects were the freckles and scars. Fractured constellations.

Croissant had called him insane for putting himself through this. Nocte had just looked at him with such pity. He knows both of them mean well, but honestly kark them both for getting into his business. There was already so much that had been taken from him, he'd be damned if he lost this as well.

Torturous an ordeal or not, Olly would never abandon Rhythm. He can't let him go, even if the healthier option would be to do so. 2895 isn't Rhythm but that doesn't change the fact he used to be.

Maybe... Impossible as it may seem... He could be again...? If Olly tried hard enough...?

With a purpose he lets go of letting go. Just like a turtle Olly slow walks towards that one particularly unfeasable goal.

Even if it means indulging in things he honest to gods hated.

Like playing Rhythm's dumb little playlists full of songs that make his brain hurt. Or practicing twice as hard on his guitar playing skills even when he's too tired to lift it up properly. Sometimes he overturns the little box where he keeps the kids's little gifts, hoping '95 might recognize Agi's finger paints or Vite's handwriting. He has holopics of Lenta, from the few nights they'd all gone out together for some not quite cheap caf. He even holds the turtle plush Rhythm got him once as an apology gift for getting up to shenanigans...

The indifference behind '95's eyes never deters him. He tolerates Olly's company but doesn't seem curious at all about any of the memorabilia. Just seems interested in meticulously retouching his standard-painted shock trooper armour.

Olly's continuously dashed and renewed hopes smell like fresh paint.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #coruscant guard #commander fox #clone trooper dogma #sergeant hound #clone ocs #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #clone trooper lichtenberg #clone trooper pretty boy #communications corrie rhythm #riot trooper red alert #k9 trooper redacted #k9 trooper bumblebee #clone medic remedy #clone medic croissant #clone medic nocte #arc trooper drift

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