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depressed-sock · 7 months

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Strays and the Hands that Feed Them by depressed-sock

Part Four ( 8,577 words )

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types

Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Darth Maul, Coruscant Guard Clone Troopers & Darth Maul

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Stitches

Cheated a little bit with the prompt. People do get stitches in this part but I also have a medic named Stitches so he got to make a couple of appearances lol.

This one is a series of snippets of things that didn't fit within the main fic story.

...

Slick Head of Criminal ‘Investigations’ for the Guard:

Slick was sure he knew exactly where his life was headed after he’d gotten caught. He’d figured he was headed either straight for decommissioning or reconditioning. Either way they’d pick apart his brain to find out exactly where they think they went wrong with him. The spiteful part of him hoped they found nothing. Well maybe not just out of spite… but also the vain hope that they couldn’t change anyone else to be completely mindlessly obedient like the rest of his brothers.

But then hours in a cell turned to days and he figured that maybe they’d decided to go for public execution instead and just hadn’t gotten the balls to do it yet. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Then Fox had come swooping into his life. And everything Slick had expected was turned on its head.

Fox had given him a new number, a freshly painted set of Corrie armor, a list of rules that made his head spin, and then he’d just… let Slick go. With the only expectation that Slick would follow his rules and not much else.

Slick’s not going to lie. He ran the first chance he got. If he didn’t want to be a part of the GAR he sure as hell wasn’t going to be a flimsi-pushing Guard. Besides, Slick had figured that on a world like Coruscant he could easily find a way off and to anywhere else. Preferably somewhere he’d finally be free from all of this. He didn’t get far before he realized he had no money, no plan, no way to survive outside of the Guard or the GAR.

Fox was waiting for him when he’d walked back into the barracks. Took one look at Slick and motioned him to follow. Then he’d pushed Slick into a room so vastly different from the rest of the Guard Barracks. A room filled with color, blankets, and pillows. Brothers in cuddle piles, all of them looking as if they’d seen the front lines with how heavily scarred they were. Then Fox had dragged him to the floor, handed him a cup of something that smelt closer to fuel than alcohol, and got him blackout drunk.

The next day he’d set Slick to work. Apparently, the Guard barely got any supplies even though they were on the home front. So they’ve been having Guard members take time out of their usual shifts to work actual natborn jobs so that they could at least afford some medical supplies. Since that’s apparently an issue here.

Fox tells him that, Slick’s skill with making deals with natborns would be invaluable to the Guard. He’s still not sure how ‘Slick betrayed the Republic by giving intel to Ventress’ became ‘Slick is skilled enough to talk to criminals and make deals with them’. But Fox was adamant about it. Not like Slick could say no, not when he’d personally seen how badly stocked the medical bay was. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the screams coming from there when they’d run out of morphine.

So it had started small. A couple of deals here and there to look the other way or even help carry the uh, “cargo”. It didn’t hurt anyone, well it didn’t hurt the Guard. That was the important part that mattered.

Then without really realizing everything started to get a bit more…Complicated.

It went from looking the other way, to guarding deals going down between criminal organizations, to making said deals. Growing bigger than what Slick ever could have expected. He’d talked to Fox about it, if he should pull back before he and the other Guards working with him got caught. Fox had shrugged and told him to do what he thinks will keep his men safe.

That’s when he realized he’d been trusted with his brothers without him even knowing it. It should have been obvious but he’d been so caught up in self-flagellation he didn’t even consider the possibility of ever being trusted again. Not that he’d ever believe this was Fox’s way of putting any kind of faith in Slick’s motives. This was Fox trusting Slick’s skills to get a job done and keep the men under him alive in the process.

It might have helped his case that Slick is also very aware of what would happen to him if he purposefully got any of his brothers here killed. He’s seen Fox’s list, seen what happens to the people on that list. He doesn’t have that kind of a death wish. He’d rather throw himself on Skywalker’s lightsaber than ever piss off Fox or any of the Guard. They’re all vindictive bastards.

So he’s not exactly surprised when Fox assigns two more of the Guard to him and his growing division of criminal activity. He is surprised that what he’s given is a blind trooper and a cranky medic.

The trooper shifts nervously, a bandage wrapped carefully around her face. She has one hand on the medic’s shoulder, grip tight enough that her knuckles have gone white.

Fox stares Slick down as he introduces them. “This is Mouse, she’s got a talent for binary and can help you start delving into what blackmail we can sell. Stitches is here to help her recovery and to help anyone else who's been dodging the medical bay.” His eyes stray and narrow on a spot just behind Slick. There’s a crash as someone hurries out of the room.

Aw... Poor Kiki. Slick wishes you luck but he’s not getting between you and an angry medic.

“Understood,” Slick nods his head, looking over his two new recruits. "I’ll have Zoomy clear out a spot for the both of you.”

Mouse ends up being an asset he hadn’t realized he’d needed. She’s an experienced technician and while it took a bit of time for her to figure out a new way to do things she’s talented and adaptable enough to already be good at repairing the cheap datapads that like to break down on him. She’s also somehow got an army of mouse droids constantly feeding her gossip which turns into blackmail Slick can use.

Either to get some extra credits or to quietly threaten people into making deals with him. Both have been boons to his ever-growing job.

Stitches is also weirdly useful in an unexpected way. He likes to make drugs. Lots of fucking drugs that Slick isn’t all too sure are completely safe. Slick has to immediately veto using anything ‘new’ on test subjects even though Stitches claims he could easily get some Senator or asshole to test it. Everything else is free game and nets them all enough credits that Slick can fully stock the Guard Medical bay for the first time in… well ever.

There’s even some extra he splits with his crew.

And apparently, they’ve all become saps because they all end up buying shit for the other Guards who have to deal with the Senate on a daily bases. It’s a sad realization that criminals are nicer to them than the people they were made and enslaved to protect.

It continues like that for a while. Fox dropping off new people for Slick to protect. Some of them too injured from their work in the Guard, some of who were being threatened with decom, and then there are the ones Fox plucks from other Battalions like they’re fucking candy from some old lady’s candy bowl. He’s absolutely certain one of those is from the fucking wolfpack and Slick doesn’t want to know how or why Fox got his hands on the trooper.

In fact, he fears the day that particular Jedi and Wolfe figure out where their missing trooper has gone. The trooper wants to be here. That’s the important part. Slick still plans to throw Fox under the speeder because he at least has a better chance of surviving the wrath of his batchmate.

So other than the occasional new trooper everything is going fine. Slick’s running a steady criminal business and he’s providing for his brothers. He’s not free like he wants to be. But, other than the massive amount of stress that comes with being a Guard, it’s the first time he’s felt he’s done something worthwhile in this shit war.

Then Thorn shows up one day and has to fucking ruin Slick’s good mood.

Thorn stands there, awkwardly shifting as Slick glares first at him, then down to where Thorn’s hands rest on the shoulders of two fucking teenage pink-skinned Twi’leks. “Please,” Slick begs as he pinches the brow of his nose, “Please, tell me you didn’t kidnap a couple of kids.”

“…I didn’t kidnap a couple of kids.”

“We kidnapped him!” The one with light purple markings grins up at Slick. “He was wandering the lower levels by himself so we tried to get some money off of him. But he didn’t have any and he told us you’d pay a ransom to have him returned safely!”

The other Twi’lek with darker almost black markings nods their head, glaring at Slick with their arms crossed, and for some reason that invokes an image of a miny Stone in Slick’s head. Fuck he doesn’t need that kind of crazy here. The silent ones are always planning something.

“Yes…I’ve absolutely been kidnapped so you should give them credits for me.” Thorn licks his lips and glances down at the twins before meeting Slick’s eyes again, “And maybe a room to stay in. And food. And-”

“Please tell me Fox knows you’re picking up his bad habits.” Slick swears no one else has to deal with this bullshit. First Fox adopts every single trooper who passes through the Guard’s cells and now Thorn’s picking up strays off the street? Fuck, he hopes this isn’t contagious.

“Fox is absolutely aware of this.” Thorn lies to his face and Slick would give him props for that if not for the fact that he’s offended the bastard just tried to lie to him.

The worst part is that Slick can’t even complain because two days in the twins already have Slick’s men wrapped around their fingers. They’ve taught several of his men how to pickpocket, what levels are safe, where not to go, and who to look out for with a list far more extensive than Slick’s and Fox’s combined.

So he keeps them around. He is not wrapped around their fingers. Vinia and Ven are just a fucking resource.

Then Thorn strikes again a month later. Only this time it’s a very familiar face he brings in. Kicking and Squirming, trying to escape Thorn’s grasp that holds firm against the assault.

Boba Fett looks like he’s seen better days. He’s much skinnier the Slick remembers him being, taller too. Some part of him hopes that maybe Boba has just lost his baby fat since he left Kamino. But Slick knows that he isn’t that lucky and apparently, neither is Boba.

Thorn winces as Boba kicks into his leg, giving Slick a strained smile as he says, “Sooo….uh this time I may have accidentally kidnapped a kid.”

“Aura’s going to slice your fucking throat clone!” Boba screams, slamming a hand into Thorn’s stomach.

Thorn for his part doesn’t even flinch. Just laughs that awkwardly painful laugh that tells Slick he’s not going to like what Thorn says next. “Oh, I don’t think she’s going to be doing much of anything anymore.”

“Thorn.” Slick’s smile is thin as he stares this fucking bastard down. “Please tell me you didn’t kill Aura Sing.” Aura Sing who’s been a reliable if sketchy contact. Aura Sing who was working as a fucking bounty hunter for Fox.

“I didn’t kill Aura Sing.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried, you-” Boba starts to bite out but Thorn just yells over him

“She killed herself!” Thorn’s strained smile turns into a full-on wince. “Neither of us knew the crate had explosives in it.”

Boba’s stopped struggling and is now staring up at Thorn with disbelief. Slick breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. One of his fucking contacts is dead and now he has to find a new fucking bounty hunter for Fox. And to top all of that off he’s got fucking Boba to deal with, who just lost another person in his life. Great. Fantastic.

Slick is going to pay Zoomy to put fucking ants in Thorn’s cot.

“Put him down and get out,” Slick says calmly. Deathly calm because he’s about ten seconds from pulling his gun. He thinks Fox would let him off for shooting Thorn just a little bit.

“I-”

“No Thorn. Put Boba down and get out. I will deal with this.”

He does, retreating out of the room and hopefully off planet for the next few days at least. Slick sighs as he grabs Boba’s shoulder and guides him to one of the extra rooms. He expects that the kid is going to run the first chance he gets.

Boba doesn’t leave. Doesn’t even attempt to do much of anything but to sit on his bed and stare vacantly at the wall of the room Sick had shoved him into. The kid’s lost two people and to be honest he didn’t have many to start with.

Slick and the other clones would always have each other. Even if none of them knew each other on Kamino they were still all brothers. Still went through the same training, still raised in the exact same way to serve the Republic and Jedi. Didn’t matter what you identified as, you were a brother and a vode. They made those words theirs, twisted to mean things only a clone would understand.

Boba’s a clone too but more importantly, he was Fett’s son. Made like them but built to fill an entirely different role that none of them could ever fill.

Slick doesn’t know what to do with him or how to treat him. If he were just some normal cadet it would be easier. And maybe it’s that thought that leads him to do what he does next. Eventually, he gives up trying to figure out a way and grabs Boba by the scruff of his neck, marches him down to the Guard’s main barracks, and shoves him into the first cuddle pile he sees because why not? It’s not like Boba has reacted to anything else Slick has tried.

It’s not like Slick can make him worse.

The little fucker hisses like a tooka and attempts to break free the first chance he gets but unfortunately for him, the vod who got him was Hound. And Hound likes strays especially the ones that put up a fight, so Boba’s stuck there. Warm, safe, and surrounded by brothers for the foreseeable future.

Slick won’t say that Boba gets better after that. He spends more time around the other clones and runs off occasionally with the twins. He doesn’t try to purposefully cause trouble and he always shows back up for something to eat so Slick doesn’t complain. In fact, he’s just thankful Boba hasn’t tried to go after General Windu yet.

Life steadies out after that, Slick gets newer better contacts. The Guard gets newer better weapons. Then Hound shows up with a full-grown natborn slung over his shoulder.

“No. No, Hound! Fuck. Do not do this to me,” Slick is not on the verge of tears but he can fake it. He can specifically fake it if it gets him out of this situation. Thorn and Fox’s tendencies have now somehow infected several other troopers and Boba, who’d all tried to sneak in several cadets into the Guard Barracks.

Slick’s been holding out hope that it was a contained event but now here’s Hound with a fucking whole new person. Which means it’s only a matter of time before it infects the others and they all get attached to it.

“He saved my life and got beaten up.” Hound pouts, Hound never pouts unless it’s to get something, usually from Fox, and now he’s turning it on Slick. Slick however has three fucking kids now and that shit doesn’t work on him.

“Take him to a hospital then!”

“Please don’t,” The body groans. “I already have enough people trying to assassinate me let’s not make it easy on them.” They pat Hound’s shoulder and he reluctantly sets them down on unsteady feet. The natborn winces, hand going to Hound’s shoulder to steady themself. “Ah apologies, I’m Krayt Zihav a senatorial aide for-”

“I can not even begin to describe how much I do not care.”

The… near-human? Slicks actually not too sure about that, something feels off about their appearance but he ignores it for his own sanity. They raise a painted eyebrow and Slick has several blissful seconds before he realizes he just talked back to a natborn who’s technically considered his superior.

“Apologies, Sir. I-”

They laugh, “Sorry,” they wave him off, “You’re fine. Trust me I know what it’s like putting up with the Senate.” They make a face. “I do sincerely apologize for the disturbance.”

Slick studies Zihav before he nods his head and focuses on Hound, “Take them to Shivers clinic next time. Stitches is in the back and can stitch them up. After that’s done get him out.” The faster the natborn is gone the less time for someone else to want him here.

Hound salutes lazily, still trying to help hold up Zihav when he lists a little to the side. Slick figures that’s the last time he’ll ever see the aide.

It’s not.

In fact, Zihav comes around the Guard’s barracks often enough now that everyone knows the fucker is not near-human but a Rattataki who hides his appearance. Claiming it’s a safety measure against the prejudice. Which is the biggest lie Slick has ever been told and he’s had the twins and Boba try to trick him out of enrolling them in school by claiming they’ve already graduated.

Zihav is a fucking spy. Slick has credits on that and he knows he’s right.

He doesn’t do anything about it though, because Zihav has been actively working with the clones. Distracting the worst Senators when he can and giving the clones even more blackmail to add to their growing collection. Slick even got a few new contacts through the spy, including a reliable bounty hunter.

Of course, the Mando Bounty Hunter is a little bit weird with the way she likes to stare at him but Slick can deal with that. It’s much better than a bunch of the others he’s tried to work with.

Everything finally settles down after that. All the new additions are just the troopers Fox pulls off of Decom and Recon orders. There’s no more natborn chaos other than the ones that have already been collected. Everything is good and steady.

Then fucking Fox tells him about Darth Maul and ruins Slick’s steady life again.

Fox and Ashoka: Thorn’s Revenge

Fox glares at Thorn with his best ‘I’m disappointed in you’ glare in the slim hope of getting across exactly what he’s feeling right this second. Thorn, the bastard, remains unaffected as he grins at his hastily equipped trooper who stands way too short and is very distinctly not a trooper.

How Thorn plans to hide the very obvious Togruta among the Guard Fox has no idea. He gets the feeling it’s going to be his problem though with the glee Thorn is in no way suppressing.

“Thorn, why the fuck is she here and not in her cell?” Which is a great question because they’d literally just hunted her down not even several hours ago and caused multiple explosions to capture her and put her in that cell.

“Well…” Thorn hesitates for the first time since he shoved the newly armored Togruta into the room. Then he just shrugs, “We all know the trial is going to be rigged and I really don’t want to execute a fucking kid.” Thorn then pushes the padawan towards Fox, “Also Slick will murder me if he knows I stole another kid and you left me with Feral and Savage sooo… you get this one.”

“Thorn,” Fox warns even as his second in command is backing away towards the door.

The padawan scrunches her face in confusion as she shoots a look towards Thorn. “How many kids have you stolen?” She asks in confusion.

“I haven’t stolen any kids-”

“Officially we’re up to five if we count the two cadets we had to give back.”

“Alright, No, those last two were Boba’s fault! Also… I need to leave and go cover up the footage of her being alive. So good luck with the Jedi!” Thorn retreats and gods Fox wishes he’d learned that tactic for battle instead of just using it to avoid conversations.

He still makes sure to shout loud enough for Thorn to hear, “He’s taking after you! So it counts as your fault!”

There’s a moment of quiet before Fox hears the loud echoing complaint of, “He’s Slick’s kid now! It’s Slick’s fault!”

“Umm… I’m sorry, I don’t really know what’s going on?” The padawan says moving awkwardly in the armor that is clearly not built for her size. The only thing she’s missing is a helmet and none of what he has comes Togruta-shaped.

“Trust me this isn’t your fault,” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Trying to figure out exactly how he’s going to approach this. “You’ve been…conscripted into the Guard’s stray tookas because Thorn’s afraid the Senate will try to just execute you without trial.”

She pales, eyes widening, “I- What?!”

“Yeah, don’t think too hard about it,” He frowns looking her over. She’s still scraped up, a cut on her lekku bleeding sluggishly. “Come on let’s get you stitched up and I’ll give you the full rundown.”

…

Hours later General’s Skywalker and Kenobi stare him down and Fox stares right back. His mind is ironclad shut and he’s certain neither of them can get a read off of him. They can, however, definitely get a read off the trooper just behind Fox who is distinctly shorter and Togruta-shaped behind the hastily applied face mask, but that hasn’t stopped Fox from lying straight to their faces.

This would be a great opportunity for Maul to just jump out of nowhere and start a fight with Kenobi. In fact, Fox is begging for that to happen the longer the silence between the three of them stretches on.

“Are we done here, sirs?” Fox asks in hopes of one of them putting him out of his misery.

“I apologize I’d just like to confirm again, Ashoka Tano was killed in the explosion?” Kenobi raises an eyebrow. Fox is impressed that Kenobi keeps his eyes completely on Fox the entire time never straying to stare at the trooper just behind him.

Skywalker also has his eyes on him. Except he’s glaring at Fox like he can light him on fire with his mind. Fox is pretty sure Skywalker can’t do that, but considering his association with the fucker who can shoot lightning Fox doesn’t immediately dismiss the fact that he might drop dead just from Skywalker staring too hard.

He hopes Thorn appreciates his sacrifice.

“Yes, sir. We found remains matching her description. We can forward you the evidence if you like.”

Skywalker makes a face of disgust at Fox, looking seconds from exploding but stops when Kenobi puts a hand on his arm. “I see. You know I don’t think we quite caught the Trooper’s name behind you?”

Fox does not look behind himself. He just tightens up his posture, hiding the trooper a bit more from view. “That would be CT-9957, Sir. They’re from one of Nala Se’s experimental batches. A mix of Jango Fett’s DNA and Togruta DNA.”

Kenobi frowns at that. “I wasn’t aware that there were clones like that.”

“Most don’t make it past the tube but some Nala Se likes to keep around to… take apart later.”

“I’ll have to contact Master Ti about that.” Kenobi strokes his beard in quiet contemplation. Like he’s surprised about the fact that the Kamonians kept something like that from the Jedi. Fox isn’t surprised, if the Kamonians could get away with it they’d decommission every single clone with a defect.

“Are we seriously ignoring the fact that, that is Snips,” Skywalker asks in disbelief as he stares back at Kenobi.

“Anakin honestly, that’s quite obviously-” Before Kenobi continues he tilts his head towards the trooper and asks, “Do you have a name you’d prefer us to call you by?”

The trooper, thank fuck, stands at attention and gives the Generals a near-perfect salute while saying with all her chest, “Tooka, Sir!” Because of course, the thing she took from his explanation was the stray tookas part. He’s going to throw her at Feral make this Thorn’s problem again by proxy.

“I see, thank you,” He nods his head and looks back at Skywalker, “That’s quite obviously Trooper Tooka Anakin. Now, I’m so sorry but we should go and properly mourn your padawan.”

Skywalker sputters but lets himself be pulled out of the Guard’s offices.

“Wow… I did not think that would work,” Ashoka says as she removes her face mask.

Fox can only sigh. “It didn’t but that’s fine. I know someone who’ll keep them so busy they’ll forget you even exist.”

Not Maul. He didn’t fucking magically show up so he can never know that Fox stole a Jedi Padawan.

Mouse and Locks: Behind Locked Doors

Locks isn’t avoiding Mouse. She isn’t. She’s strategically making sure she’s in a different place than her best friend because if she’s not near Mouse she can’t be forced to hurt Mouse. Or help hurt her ever again. It’s a good plan, because Locks is good at plans.

Just like she’s good at hacking locks and finding escape routes. She would have been an asset on Commander Thorn’s diplomatic escort missions. Except for the fact that she can’t be near any senators anymore without having a breakdown. That’s ok though!

In fact, Locks doesn’t have to be near any senators any more. And she doesn’t need to hurt any of her brothers ever again because Fox moved her permanently to the Jail. So she’s good. She’s fine. The other Natborn officers barely work here and the longer the war goes on the fewer of them there are. So she only has to listen to brothers when they give orders.

She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine.

And Mouse is fine too. Because Mouse is far away from her and in a completely different division of the Guard that everyone pretends doesn’t exist. Mouse is happy and safe and will never be able to see again because Locks held her down while she screamed and screamed and screamed.

But it’s fine.

Locks stops her patrol for a moment, takes in a shaky breath then continues on like she wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack again. It happens sometimes… A lot of times.

Shivers had wanted Fox to throw her in with Mouse’s new division but Locks had a panic attack so bad she’d lost consciousness just at the idea of it. The other option had been working with Hound and his massiffs but Locks has never been good with animals. The prisons are fine anyway. They’ve only had one brief riot and while Joker had to get stitches from a stab wound no one else had gotten hurt.

Well, no brother had gotten hurt. There’d been a few Corsec deaths but they’d been killed by brothers during the riot. Not that anyone else would ever know that. Except maybe the strays but they don’t really count as anyone else. Not when they do the same thing for the Guard that the Guard does for their own.

Locks remembers the day when she’d been told Senator Pox had been horrifically murdered. It’d been the happiest day of her life, and she’d been so tempted to go see Mouse. She didn’t because a few minutes after having the thought she’d had another panic attack.

But it’s fine.

Because the senator can’t hurt Mouse ever again. They can’t make Locks do that either. Everything is fine.

That’s what she always tells herself. Continues to tell herself as she enters the prison's Guard office she’d been called to by Commander Stone. She’s not sure what she’s expecting from this meeting, but she knows Stone’s been trying to push her to open up with other people. Just to talk at the very least.

He’s even given her a bunch of actual flimsi books. They’re all terrible but in a good way. A way that helps take her mind off of literally everything else.

So when she opens the door and walks in she expects to see Stone. She’s already removed her helmet when she takes a step in… and trips over a mouse droid that zooms under her feet. She flails a bit trying to catch her balance but accidently overbalances and hits her head on the very edge of the long office room table.

Her ears ring, her head pounds. Vaguely she thinks it reminds her of the one time she got hit during her training on Kamino by a trainer who hated her specifically. She’d been out for the count for the rest of the day that time.

“Fuck!” Comes a familiar voice through the ringing in her ears, even while the room kinda spins. “Locks, shit, hold on. Are you okay?” A hand grabs her, forces her to sit up when her body wants to list to the side.

“Mouse?” She asks completely confused about what’s going on. Stone was supposed to be here, wasn’t he? Why is Mouse here?

“Stop moving I need to check your head.” Locks hadn’t even realized she was moving. “I think you’re bleeding. Let me call Stitches he’ll be able to help. Fuck I’m so sorry Locks I didn’t know Roller was that close to the door.”

Locks swears she hears a beeping that sounds really sad before she kind of checks out of reality for a little while.

…

Locks sits quietly on the office room table as Stitches numbs the new cut on her forehead and sticks the needle through her skin. Mouse sits in a chair next to her, holding Locks’ hand and fidgeting with her fingers as each stitch is put into place.

“You know there are easier ways to talk to people,” Stitches grumbles under his breath. “I don’t know how anyone in the Guard can stand each other when none of us can talk to each other like normal vode.”

“I was going to talk to her like normal,” Mouse groans, bringing Locks hand up to her forehead. It all still feels so surreal. “Also maybe by locking the door so she couldn’t escape.”

Locks snorts and gets a hissed “Don’t move” from Stitches.

“You really thought you could lock me in a room Mouse?” She’d chosen her name for a reason. Mouse should be very aware of how good she is at hacking locks. She feels like she’s thought about that recently… but to be fair she also feels like she’s been floating off the table after Stitches made her take a couple of pills.

“I didn’t say I was going to lock it the normal way,” Mouse mutters, hazy white eyes narrowing in Locks direction, “I had my friends in place to block the exit.” Mouse tugs on her hand again as Stitches finishes up.

“Well, good luck with all that. Please don’t accidentally kill each other after I leave.” Stitches says as he snaps his medical bag closed and takes off.

Locks sighs, she knows what’s coming. She kind of wishes she’d stop floating before this though, “Time to talk?”

“Not yet, Locks,” Mouse says softly. “First I’m going to drag you off to the cuddle room so you can have someplace safe for whatever Stitches gave you to wear off.” She squeezes Locks hand, “Then we’re going to talk.”

“Kay,” Locks bends forward and rests her forehead against Mouse’s. She’s really missed her best friend. Maybe everything really would be fine now.

Jedi POV: What the hell is happening on Coruscant?

Several minutes before Palpatine’s Death:

Mace has a headache and he can’t tell if it’s his normal stress headache or one from the massive amount of shatter points that just broke only a few moments before. It hasn’t been this bad since the day Darth Maul of all people appeared from nowhere and murdered Pong Krell. What’s worse is that Mace has a crushing certainty that this is connected to that event.

He stares vacantly at the datapad in front of him, debating whether to try and continue going through his flimsi-work or to finally get some sleep. Maybe that will finally get rid of the pounding in his head.

All thoughts of sleep are put aside though when Ponds rushes into his office holding up his communicator. ”Sir, you need to see this. Someone just flooded all the news coming out of Coruscant with proof that the Chancellor betrayed the Republic.”

Well, that at least explains the headache.

Thirty minutes after Palpatine’s Death:

Feemor isn’t on duty when he gets the call along with the rest of the temple guards to storm the Senate and take a Sith Lord into custody. So he’s rushing down the halls by the time most of the others are already on their way to the Senate.

A Jedi Shadow joins him, the Rattataki running to catch up to him, “What have you heard?” His face is grimly set as he matches Feemor step for step.

Feemor hasn’t put his mask on yet so he can’t hide the grimace he makes. “Not much, but we have reason to believe that Palpatine is the Sith we’ve been looking for.”

"Has the Guard been warned?”

“We put out a call but all of their communications have been cut. We can’t even contact anyone in the GAR right now.”

The Shadow shakes his head with a frown, “I’ll figure out what’s causing the communication block and warn the Guard.”

“Force be with you Krayten.”

“Same to you Feemor!” Krayten splits off, and Feemor dons his mask. Grim determination bleeding through as he exits the temple.

Thirteen hours after Palpatine’s Death:

“Palpatine still hasn’t been found?” Shaak Ti frowns at her fellow councilors. There are only the three of them currently, with their Commanders though Alpha-17 has taken Colt’s spot by her side, while the others work to fix their communications. Mace and Plo Koon were at least near enough to Coruscant to reconvene and Shaak’s own communications seem to be so far unaffected.

It is worrying though that the Sith has yet to be found. There should be something left behind for them to follow but it’s as if the Sith has disappeared into thin air.

“There were signs of a struggle in his office but as far as we can find we have no way to tell who it was between.” Plo Koon adds in grimily. “All the cameras had been shut down and there is no footage that shows anyone coming and going from the Senate in the late hours of the night.”

“And any other evidence was cleaned up by the service droids, who were reprogrammed to immediately throw all of that in an incinerator,” Mace says, bent forward head in his hands.

Shaak winces in sympathy, she knows that this has been a strain on Mace. She can’t imagine the shatter points this event has caused. It’s already begun to change the entire war.

Plo taps his claws together, clearly thinking something over, “There is evidence of someone possibly being pushed from the window. Though no body could be found.”

“You think someone got to Palpatine before he fled?”

“If they did there’s little chance they survived the encounter,” Mace mutters under his breath.

“Or maybe it was Palpatine who was pushed?” Plo Koon hums.

Mace sighs as he sits up fully, “I’ll have our people start investigating the streets around the Senate. It could be we’ve missed something obvious.”

Alpha-17 shifts uneasily beside her. She looks over to see him frowning at her fellow Councilors. “What’s happening with the Coruscant Guard?”

She doesn’t see Ponds and Wolfe’s faces but she knows the familiar body language of a trooper in full armor. The way they perk up shows exactly how invested they are in that answer.

Mace winces, pinching the bridge of his nose as a sudden headache seems to appear, “They’ve locked themselves down, along with the Senate. They’re cooperating, if just barely. Considering that some of the evidence that was released showed them all as victims of abuse by the Senate, I doubt we can ask much of anything from them.”

“And Marshal Commander Fox?” Alpha’s eyes narrow.

“Still not accepting any communications,” Mace confirms grimly.

Alpha’s gloves creak as hands tighten into fists. The worry coming off of him is strong enough that it’s impossible for him to hide it. She sets a calming hand on his shoulder and though she expects him to shrug it off, he lets it stay.

Fifteen hours after Palpatine’s Death:

“Why do they keep asking if we found a body near the Senate?” Hound asks Stone and Thire who have equal glares leveled at the Jedi investigator who’s finally leaving them all alone. “They should have found Palpatine’s body by now right?”

“In pieces at the very least,” Thire nods his head. Stone turns to blankly stare at him and Thire just shrugs, “What? The tracker I nicked him with was a Shivers special. Of course, I took the chance to explode him when I found out Maul killed him.”

“You could have made Palpatine explode this whole time?”

“Everyone kept telling me not to explode people! He was a corpse anyway when I hit the button.” Thire shrugs not meeting Stone’s gaze.

Stone’s eyes narrow, “Mas Amedda is missing.”

“Not my fault that some of the explosives are tied to one button.”

Twenty-four hours after Palpatine’s Death:

Obi-Wan is sitting in his office going over several strategies with Cody when a call comes through from Quinlan Vos. He stares a moment at his communicator in confusion, unsure why Quinlan would be calling considering the last Obi-Wan had heard his friend had been going deep undercover.

He answers it of course. Something must have gone wrong enough for Quinlan to break cover.

“Quin?” Obi-Wan furrows his brows at his holo communicator and his friend who looks like he’s gotten less sleep than Obi-Wan has.

“Have you heard what’s been happening on Coruscant yet?” Quin rubs at his forehead, looking back at someone whom he gives a quick shake of his head to before focusing back on Obi-Wan.

“No? What’s happened?” Something has gone very wrong, his gut tells him as he dreads the answer he’s about to get.

“The Chancellor was exposed as working for both sides of the war. And worse he’s the Sith mastermind behind it all.” Quin sighs. “You should get back here as soon as possible. Officially Palpatine has gone into hiding but unofficially he’s been confirmed dead.”

“Shit.” Obi-Wan presses a hand to his mouth. This could be a very good thing for the war itself but Anakin… That’s a whole different set of problems he’s going to head off before they explode.

“My thoughts exactly.” Quinlan gives him a strained grin.

Cody coughs into his fist, “Sir, I can go start us on a course back to Coruscant?”

“Yes, please Cody. Just… Don’t mention why just yet.” Obi-Wan strokes his beard. This is such a mess. He hopes Anakin hasn’t gotten the news yet. He doesn’t know how he’s going to handle that. And…Fuck a Sith Lord has had access to his padawan for years. He’s going to need to schedule a mind healer for them both.

“Of course sir,” Cody goes to stand but freezes at Quin’s next words.

“I’ve got to go Obi-Wan. We’re still looking for Commander Fox, with the injuries he sustained there’s a good chance he might not survive long after what Palpatine did to him.”

“…What?” Cody’s voice goes deathly cold and Obi-Wan glances up at him in surprise.

Quin either doesn’t catch the tone or ignores it as he shakes his head. “We know Palpatine was torturing Commander Fox before he was killed but we don’t know what happened to Fox afterwards. The Guard says Fox isn’t with them but their shields are so strong we can’t tell if they’re lying or telling the truth.” Quin winces, “We’re hoping he’s with them, but considering what I saw with my Psychometry we need confirmation otherwise…”

He doesn’t need to finish. Fox could very well be dead right now without any medical aid.

Cody blinks down at the holoprojector. He takes in a deep breath then he breathes it out before he turns on his heel to leave the room. When the door shuts behind him Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to hide the wince. “Find him as soon as you can Quin. Fox is Cody’s batchmate from what he’s told me and he might burn down Coruscant if he finds out Fox is still missing by the time we reach there.”

“Well… the good news is that he’s got a high chance of being alive?”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

“So, highly confidential, but uhh Darth Maul is the one who carried the good Commander off.”

“…What,” Obi-Wan stares at his friend, trying to wrap his mind around that whole sentence.

“Yeah… that’s not even the weirdest part. I’ll tell you more when you land.”

Obi-Wan can only sigh as he shuts off his comn. He can’t tell yet if this is a nightmare or a dream.

Fox and Maul Quiet Moment:

For the first time in a long time, Fox feels… Relaxed. He’s seated at his desk still filling out paperwork but there’s no rush to it. No need to hurry or panic about being punished. He looks through, signs piece after piece that slowly builds a better future for the vode.

Behind him, he can hear the soft snores coming from his couch and it settles in his bones like an extra confirmation that he’s safe. The stitches in his face and back still pull, still hurt. But they’re the last time someone will ever have enough power over him to inflict these kinds of wounds. He’s making sure of that.

Because unfortunately for the Senate no matter how fast they move it’s still never fast enough. And they have yet to revoke Palpatine’s emergency powers. Emergency Powers Fox has access to because he’s always done a majority of Palpatine’s paperwork. Which means he can automatically approve certain bills that have been submitted. Like Organa’s and Amidala’s Clone Rights bill. As well as a few others.

Of course, the Senate will try and void anything Fox does once they realize what’s happened but by then he’ll have enough senators under his thumb that they won’t be able to. The benefits of gathering a fuck-ton of blackmail and having Maul around killing people. Everyone is terrified of the Guard nowadays.

They know exactly what will happen to them if they leave even a bruise on Fox’s men.

Fox idly taps his pen on the table, humming softly under his breath. There’s nothing for him to worry about, no fire for him to put out. The Jedi have for the most part left him alone, though he does find it strange none of them tried to contact him immediately after Palpatine’s reveal. They’ve been bugging the rest of the Guard though.

He leans back in his seat, careful not to put too much pressure on his back. For a moment he just closes his eyes, and lets himself rest for a second.

Then his office door slams open and he opens his eyes to glare at the intruders.

Cody marches in with heavy bags under his eyes, and he freezes just a few steps in as he stares at Fox. His breath catches as he takes a step towards Fox and seems to hesitate. “Fox?” Cody’s voice breaks on his name and all Fox can do is blink in shock.

Fuck he doesn’t even remember the last time he saw Cody let alone any of his other batchmates. It had to be when they were all first shipped off. Hells, he doesn’t even remember the last time he spoke to any of them. Fox had cut off contact when he’d found out about Palpatine.

Ponds steps in a second later with a confused, “Cody? What’s wrong-” He cuts himself off when he meets Fox’s eyes. “Fox?!”

Then fucking Wolfe comes in (how many of these assholes showed up?) makes an immediate bee-line to Fox with furrowed brows and a snarl. He’s only stopped by Ponds who grabs his arm. “Where the Fuck have you been?”

Fox raises an eyebrow and doesn’t wince when that pulls on the stitches in his brow, “Here? Where else would I be Vod?”

“No one could get in contact with you,” Cody’s voice is quiet as he takes in every inch of Fox’s face. “Everyone thought you were dead.”

“Why would I be dead? I’ve been in my office for the last,” he checks the time and date on one of his datapads, squinting down at the small letters. Fuck he’s been here a while since Shivers stitched him back together. “Fourty-eight hours? Fuck, I missed my three hours of sleep.” He rubs a hand over his face, carefully to avoid causing himself any further pain.

He’ll just pass out later on Thorn when he gets back from that diplomatic escort he ended up on before all this bullshit went down.

Ponds makes a sound and Fox looks up to see him giving Fox a pained look. “Ok, there’s a few things we’re going to have to talk about in that sentence alone. But first, Fox you were tortured and then no one could contact you.”

How the fuck do you know that? He wants to ask but he doesn’t comment on it because he’s still got the option of avoiding that conversation. Also, wait… couldn’t contact? He unclips the comn unit on his belt, opens it, and narrows his eyes as suddenly it floods with messages. He sighs, “Looks like one of my tech specialists was blocking communications.” He types a quick threatening message to Slick who just sends back a smiley face and some bullshit about Fox needing the rest.

Fox shouldn’t have let him have kids, now he just fucking mothers everyone.

“Why would you tech specialists block your communications?” Cody asks, looking more and more like he wants to rush over to Fox. Probably drag him into a bed and hopefully not to strangle Fox for just now realizing no one could contact him.

“Because Slick worries too much,” Fox mutters under his breath. He ignores the way Cody’s posture tightens. “So now that you’ve confirmed I’m alive, you can all leave.”

Wolfe frowns, opens his mouth like he’s about to shout Fox down then he glances just past Fox and freezes. “Is that kriffing Darth Maul?!” Wolfe snarls, transforming from angry because he’s worried to angry because he thinks there’s an enemy present. Wolfe now looks like he’s three seconds from trying to lunge past everyone to rip out someone’s throat.

Cody and Ponds look behind Fox now and he sighs, turning in his seat to look back at the figure resting on his couch. Maul lies curled up and content. Also completely and utterly passed out because Shivers dosed him with the strongest sedative they have when they found out Maul’s been awake for several days.

That was about thirty-something hours ago now, so Fox thinks it’s worn off by now and it’s just Maul’s body now that’s catching up on sleep. Fox really should get some sleep soon before Shivers decides to put him in a coma.

Fox shifts back to face his brothers and with a straight face says, “No? That’s our stray tooka Thorn pulled out of the trash.” His brothers turn to stare at him in unison. Which just makes him want to fuck with them. “He even drops dead moneky-lizards on our doorstep when they get too handsy.”

“Monkey-lizards?” Ponds asks in disbelief.

“It’s what we call senators here.”

“Fox,” Cody groans in brotherly dismay and now nothing holds him back as he walks straight for Fox and pulls him into a hug. Fox hisses in pain, Cody shifts slightly to adjust the hug enough that he doesn’t touch Fox’s backplate. He mumbles softly into Fox’s hair, “I’m going to fucking kill you. Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“I’m safe,” he closes his eyes and leans into Cody’s chest. “He made sure of that.” Cody hums in understanding and Fox is sure Cody shoots a glare towards Wolfe who’s been walking over.

“I’m not going to fight him stop glaring at me,” Wolfe grumbles as he closes in and runs a hand through Fox’s hair, “I can’t believe you got a fucking pet Sith. Cody’s supposed to be the one who adopts everything.”

“Now that’s a complete lie. All of us are CC’s, you know that was ingrained into our DNA.” Ponds laughs, pushing whatever is on Fox’s desk out of the way so he can sit on it, leaning in close to Fox. “We are absolutely not telling our Jedi about this.”

“Good,” Fox murmurs, eyes closing as he revels in his brother’s presence. He’s safe here. Maul is safe here.

He hears Maul groan in the background, a quiet rustling, and the click of a comn unit. “It’s far too late for that,” Maul mutters sleepily. “Hmm, oh look at that, I’ve been fully pardoned by the dear Chancellor himself.”

“Wait, what?” Cody straightens up.

“Thank you, Chancellor Fox,” Maul adds on and Fox can hear the grin in his voice.

“No problem.” Fox lifts his head up enough to grin right back at Maul. “I figure I’ve got a few more days before they disavow me, anything else I should sign?”

“Woah woah, wait what do you mean Chancellor?!”

“Don’t worry about it, Ponds.”

“No, I think this is something to worry about.”

“Fox is right Ponds don’t worry about it,” Wolfe nods his head in agreement. Then he leans in to whisper to Fox, “Can you make it so people could legally adopt us?”

“Already done. But I can make sign something specific if you want.”

Wolfe nods his head, “Let me message my General.”

“I’m pretty sure this is treason in some way,” Cody frowns, then shrugs it off like he commits treason every day of his life. “We can figure that out later. You need sleep, Fox.” He steps back just enough, so that he can pull Fox to his feet. Keeping a protective arm around him as he starts to guide him out of the office.

“Maul?” Fox asks. He hears a quiet snort and Maul’s steps follow Fox and his brothers out of the door and straight back to the barracks.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars #darth maul #commander fox #fanfiction #my writing #sock-writes #writer on tumblr #bthb #bad things happen bingo

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palpipeen · 2 years

Note

40. "Don't tempt me" and 42 "You have been waiting long for this, haven't you?" for Fox?

40. "Don't tempt me" and 42 "You have been waiting a long time for this, haven't you?" From this prompt list. Send one in if you want!!!

CC-1010 || Fox/Reader - Earned It

Rating: NC-17 for SO MUCH SMUT Warnings: Spanking, slightly undernegotiated scene (Reader surprised Fox and his dom came out), Unprotected P in V sex (wrap that crap fellurs), Dirty Talk (it wouldn't be a fic by me if it wasn't full of that), multiple orgasms, fucking on a desk, aftercare Reader is AFAB and uses She/Her Pronouns Word Count: 3809 (hahaoops) AN: NOODLE’S FIRST ASK PROMPT, WHOOOOO!!!!! Thank you Anon, I enjoyed this so, so much. 8) As with my thots from before, this doesn’t have to be Barista!Reader but it might as well be. I’ve written and rewritten this one a few times, and this is the third try so we’re sticking with it LOL.

This fic is so fucking smutty. If you're under the age of 18, DNI! 8)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The first thought that crossed your mind when you walked into his office was,

Oh, he’s in a rare form today.

The second and more alarming one was,

I wonder how I can make this worse?

That’s how it all started. And now?

Now, you’re facing the consequences of your actions.

“Five!”

Your voice rings out through the silence of Commander Fox’s office, your thighs squeezing together as you struggle to keep yourself upright. The burning sting of where his hand had swatted your ass brings tears to your eyes, and your arms tremble where they hold up your weight on his desk. Fox makes a low, disappointed hum in his throat behind you, his hands rough as he grabs you by the knees and pulls your legs apart again.

“What did I tell you, mesh’la?” His teeth scrape across the tender flesh of your ass before his tongue soothes the ache that makes you whine. “Keep those legs open.”

“S-sorry, sir,” you whine. It’s all you can do to gather your breath long enough to speak.

“Hmm.” He drags the blunt edges of his nails up your skin, sending a ripple of awareness from the small of your back up to the base of your skull. Warmth ghosts across the apex of your thighs, and you keen when his fingers just barely brush across your folds. The sound is obscene, all wet and slick and he’s hardly even touching you. “I don’t know that you are sorry, mesh’la. You’re getting awfully wet from this.”

You are. You’ve been wet for what feels like the entire day - you’d planned something for him earlier in the day. Something to tempt him out of his office - a lingerie set you’d seen in the window of a boutique in the upper levels. There was no way the colors were a coincidence, which made you question what the designer was thinking. Though you couldn’t say you blamed them.

Coruscant Guard red was a fetching color.

Fox certainly thought so. Though, maybe strip teasing him when you’d had to relocate to his office instead of your apartment was a bad idea. It certainly was hilarious when he finally caught on to your game. Right up until he’d man-handled you behind his desk and announced his plans for you. Plans that didn’t exactly line up with the ones you’d tried to set into motion.

But, Fox was a commander for a reason. His plans almost never went sour.

“I want you to count to ten,” he’d told you, firm hands guiding your body how he wanted you. Legs outspread, ass facing him with your hands braced on his desk. You’d heard a click somewhere behind you and a quiet grunt as he sat back in his chair. “And then, you’re going to beg for my cock, like the needy little minx you are. And maybe, maybe I’ll decide you deserve it.”

“Come on Fox.” You hadn’t bothered trying not to sound irreverent - you knew he liked it when you acted out. Leaning down so your forearms were braced on the table, you’d swung your ass at him enticingly. “Why don’t we just skip the foreplay? Don’t you wanna fuck me, baby?”

“Don’t tempt me.” You’d shivered at that low, hungry growl. The one that took over the normally smooth tones of his deep voice only when he was feeling particularly worked up. “You’ll need to earn it this time, mesh’la.”

And so it went. The first two came closer together, but by the third you were getting tender and tried to twist away from him. So he’d started all over again. Part of you wanted to argue that technically, you were eight in, but the vibrant sting of his hand coming down on your tender flesh was intoxicating. The cool air from the vents was a startling contrast, and were it not for Fox’s punishment making you shudder, you would be shivering. Instead a fine sheen of sweat has broken out across your skin, and the coil in your stomach is white hot and so tightly wound you think you could cry just from that. Or you might come because of it.

You’re good with either. Or both.

“Is that it?” Fox’s voice is closer now, and you feel the warmth of his body and hard plastoid at your back. His hand is still between your thighs, roughly dragging up and down your cunt in an unforgiving caress that demands you react. Writing on his desk, you try to push back against him, only for him to bring down his other hand on the globe of your ass. “Count.”

“Fuuuuck fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck, six! Six!”

Tears are absolutely streaming down your face now. Frustration and the overabundance of endorphins running through you. The tightening of your inner walls squeezing around nothing as you try to keep yourself upright is unbearable. Babbling incoherently into his desk, your fingers scrabble across the surface, desperate for something to hold onto. Your commander is there to offer you a solution, of course.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” His much larger hands grab you by the wrists, pulling your arms out in front of you. Once they’re laid out flat on the desk, he holds them both with one hand, the other tracing aimless patterns across the planes of your back. “All of it. Did it turn you on when you decided to pull this little stunt?”

His hand cracks down again.

“Seven! Yes, fuck, please Commander --”

“When you were riding the elevator up here, could you feel it trickling down your thighs like you are now?”

And again.

“Eight, yesyesyes, yes sir, oh fuck, please --”

“You wanted to see me squirm, didn’t you baby?” Fox scrapes his teeth across the shell of your ear and you whimper, your body writhing. He makes you feel so good, knows exactly how to taunt and tease you until you’re an absolute fucking mess for him. “Wanted to get me all worked up, see how far you could push me.” His hand swats you again, no less force behind it but much quicker. “How’s that working out for you, mesh’la?”

“N-nine -- m’sorry sir, just want-wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me pleasantly surprised. But,” he nips sharply at your earlobe and you cry out for him. “The next time you decide to wear crotchless panties, give me a warning - and let me see you first. Not bending over in front of Thorn and Hound.” The low chuckle he lets out reverberates through both of you. “Thought Thorn was going to choke on his own tongue.”

Oh. So he’d seen that. Oops.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again --”

“Never said you had to do that.” Fox rears up behind you, the hand holding your wrists trailing up one of your arms and down your side until he squeezes your hip. “I’m just a selfish man. If you’re going to pull something like this off, let me be the first one to see it.” The stern tone goes warm, gentler as his thumb rubs against you. “Just one more, baby. You alright?”

“Yes,” you pant out, nodding with your forehead pressed against his desk. “Yes, commander. M’good.”

“Good.”

You’re not sure what’s louder - the final smack of his hand against your ass or the sound that rips out of your throat. Stars dance behind your eyes as you try to remember how to breathe. The pressure in your lower stomach and back tightening to an almost overwhelming degree. Dully you’re aware of Fox moving behind you, the sound of fabric shuffling and something slick as unforgiving plastoid presses against the backs of your thighs.

But your mind is empty. Empty of everything except sensation, pain and pleasure threatening to pull you under in equal measures while you quake on his desk. Yet somehow, somehow -

“T-ten.” You can barely squeeze the word out of yourself, letting your head fall to one side so you can attempt to peer at Fox over your shoulder. Tears make your vision swim as you stare at him, standing over you with his hands bracketing your hips. “Please,” you rasp, “please sir, I’ll be good - please please please I need it.”

“Need what, mesh’la?” The grin that spreads across his handsome features is absolutely infuriating, but you don’t have it in you to mouth off to him. Not anymore.

“You, commander, I need you, need your cock, please I wanna come on your cock sir, I--”

The blunt tip of his cock barely slides through your folds, gathering some of the slick of your arousal. He pauses, just a moment, until you give a quick nod. And then Fox slams his cock into you, burying himself from root to tip in one sharp, unforgiving thrust that rips a warbling cry out of your lungs.

It also rips an orgasm out of you. So the second his hips are flush against your ass Fox lets out a strangled sound, unable to move as your walls clench down around the cock currently stretching you open. Pleasure burns bright and blinding throughout your body, your cunt spasming as you milk him for everything. And you absolutely drench his cock, feeling it trickle down the insides of your thighs all the way down to your ankles. It’s enough to make you think your heart stopped.

But he’s only getting started with you.

The moment you begin to unclench around him, he’s moving. Already building you up to another mind-shattering orgasm. You are completely limp, the only things keeping you upright as he pounds down into you are his hands on your hips and his desk under you. With every hard thrust he sends new sparks of rapture through you, your body jolting forward on his desk.

Good thing it’s bolted into the floor. At this rate, he’d probably knock the damn thing over.

“Nnh - so fuckin’ tight - so wet for me, take me so damn good.” Fox grits the words out above you, punctuating the last with a particularly hard thrust that makes you keen. He stops for a moment, just a few seconds, sliding his hands up from your hips and across your back. “Did so good for me mesh’la, but you liked it didn’t you? I barely used any lube. Bet you could’ve come just from me spanking you, hm?”

“Y-yes!” You nod frantically at his question. “Fuck - I’ve dreamed about it commander, want you to - to bend me over your knee and put me in my place - wanna feel it for days, please, please make me feel it sir.”

“Damn.” Readjusting his stance behind you, Fox grips you by the shoulders, and starts to move again. “You have been waiting a long time for this, haven't you?” You nod again, whimpering at the slow grind of his hips against your ass. When his kama rasps against the tender skin you wince, and Fox pauses again. It isn’t long before you hear him fumbling with his belt, until both that and his kama fall to the floor. Fox leans over you, his front pressed to your back as his hands slide under your chest to knead your breasts through the lace of your bra. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

Fox takes his time with you - leisurely fucking you into his desk. You arch your back for him, hoping to entice him to return to the pace from a few seconds ago. But Fox won’t be deterred. He pulls out until the head of his cock is barely breaching you, slides back in, oh so slow and smooth you could cry. But he fills you perfectly, effortlessly pushing you closer and closer to the edge of insanity.

It’s so much, but it’s not enough.

“C’mon, Fox.” You swallow hard, your throat dry and a little raw. The state of it isn’t helped when Fox slows to a complete stop and you growl in frustration. “Fuck, Fox, come on - lemme have it. I know you’re not tired from before.”

“Where’s all this lip coming from?” Fox snorts and gives a few shallow thrusts until you keen again, pushing his hips into you and swiveling them in a tight circle. “Aww, can't you take what you dish out? I think you’re forgetting your place here, sweetheart.” His hand is an iron brand against the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pulls back, and snaps his hips forward. Somehow more forceful than the first, knocking all the air out of your lungs. When he speaks again, it’s a snarl, and your cunt squeezes around his cock at the sound of him. “You’re mine, and I don’t give a damn what you want right now. You’re going to let me take what I want from you, and maybe I’ll let you come again.”

“Fuh-huhck, Fox, please --”

You can’t get another word out, because that’s when he really starts fucking you. It’s fast and it’s unforgiving and it’s for his pleasure - and somehow that is hotter than anything else he’s done tonight. With each punishing slam of his hips into your ass, the way he kneads every inch of your flesh he can reach, he has reduced you to an absolute mess. But that’s alright. So long as he keeps fucking you, that’s alright.

So long as he keeps talking, too. At some point his grunts and moans gave way to words - a tell-tale sign he’s getting close.

“Osik baby, feels so good - s’good for me, so good. Like your body was fuckin’ made to take cock - bet you’d let me fuck you for hours like this. Hmh? Am I right, cyare?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah, fuck yeah. Wanna keep you like this - just like this, spread out on my desk, begging for me to touch you.”

“Please - please --” You choke out a sob of pleasure, your thighs quaking as your strength finally starts sapping out of you. Fox feels it immediately and pulls out, but before you can even take in a breath to protest he turns you over. Pushes you up so your ass is barely hanging on the edge of the desk, and you forget all about the burn on his ass when he steps between your thighs and leans down to kiss you.

It’s at complete odds with the way he’s been manhandling you - it’s slow and sweet, pouring every drop of affection that he has into you. His lips caress yours in silent reassurance that he’s here, that he’s got you, that he loves you. Fox pulls back to nudge his nose against yours and your eyes flutter open to see him gazing down at you.

“Still alright, cyare?” You nod and he smiles, all fondness and dimples as he cups your face in his hands. Calloused fingertips caress your skin as the pads of his thumbs brush away tears you weren’t aware are still falling. “I need to hear it baby, use your words.”

“I’m good,” you whisper. You close your hands around his wrists, holding him there as you chew on your bottom lip. “But I’m close.”

“I know sweetheart. Trust me,” his hips roll against you, his cock sliding between your folds. Your body twitches and writhes under him, and he chuckles, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there. You’ve done so well for me baby - you want me to fill you up? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“Yes!” You grab at him desperately, one hand clawing at his arm while the other clutches at the messy curls at the base of his skull. Fox grunts, shifting his lower half so you can feel the head of his cock nudging at your entrance again. You bring him in for another kiss, this one frenzied and mind-numbing.

Or maybe that’s him stuffing you full of his cock again. Who knows at this point? You certainly don’t.

All you know is the taste of his lips on your tongue, the vibrations of his answering growl when you moan for him. Sparks race up and down your spine in time with his thrusts, which are getting sloppier by the second. But he has taken you apart completely, in the way his hands roam across your body and with his tongue licking deep into your mouth. He’s the only one who’s ever made you feel like this. Fox has ruined you for anyone else.

And honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Ah, fuck,” he grits out against your mouth, fumbling with your legs without breaking his stride. His hands slide under your knees, pushing your legs up and out, leaving you exposed before him while he rears up to his full height. “M’gonna come soon, mesh’la.”

‘Fuck’ is right, though you’re sure it’s for different reasons for him. All you can think about (when you can, sex-addled brain fog aside) is how beautiful he looks above you. Sweat makes his skin glint in the low light of his office, his eyes devouring you with a kind of adoration that makes you feel weightless. Gods - the way he looks at you makes you feel like you’re the only person in the whole galaxy. With how he fucks you, this and every other time, you always feel this way.

“Please,” you beg, well beyond dignity or rebellion at this point. “Please, lemme come - wanna come with you.”

“Touch yourself.” Fox bites his lip, his eyes following the slow crawl of your hand and he grits out, “Come all over my cock, baby. Gonna look so good, feels so good, can’t wait to fill you up so you’re dripping all the way home.”

All it takes is a few more rough thrusts from Fox and a few practiced circles with two of your own fingers, and you’re falling off the edge again. This one wrings you completely dry, you’re pretty sure you pass out as you’re pulled under the waves of ecstasy he’s making you feel. Back arching off his desk, your pussy flutters and clamps down around him, your mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. You only manage to keep your eyes open long enough to see the tension fall slack from his face as his thrusts lose all rhythm, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. The ringing in your ears begins to fade just in time to hear him as he lets his mouth run before he’s pulled under.

“-- oh fuck oh fuck baby, that’s it, that’s it baby! Fuck you’re gonna make me come, gonna fuck - fuck you feel so good, it’s so good oh it’s so good --”

With a wordless, desperate shout of your name he pushes in deep, as deep as he can go, and you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. The rush of warmth trickles out of you, yours and his, as he shudders and quakes above you. Fox’s hands slide down from the inside of your thighs to under your back, pulling you against him as he gasps for air.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that. Fox clings to you with his cock still pulsing in your cunt, head tucked against the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You wrap your arms and legs around him, ignoring the mild discomfort of the bruises forming on your ass and the lace and straps of lingerie digging into your skin. Even the hard, unforgiving plastoid jabbing at you couldn’t take away from the way you’re both floating on pleasure.

But eventually, your circulation starts spreading out to your extremities. Everything feels tender, and you wince when he shifts slightly. His full weight thereby making you shift, plying a quiet noise of discomfort from you.

“Ah shit - sorry.” He pulls out of you and you both groan, though he doesn’t linger as he starts searching through his desk drawers. “Think I’ve got some bacta patches in here --”

“Not yet,” you pant out, shaking your head when he looks at you incredulously.

“Uh, you sure?” Fox looks a little sheepish as he tilts his head to one side to try and peer at your ass. “Went a bit hard there - sorry, I’ll try to hold back next time.”

“I’d appreciate that,” you hum, “but right now, I just wanna feel you.” Chuckling warmly, Fox nods before he leaves you for a moment. For a moment you just lay there on his desk, spread out and limp as you try to pull yourself back together. But Fox is right there with you, returning with a damp washcloth and a flask. “Where’d you --”

“There’s a fresher in my office, remember?”

Fox grunts as he sits in his chair, pulling it forward to clean you gently. The warmth of his skin and the softness of the cloth is a soothing contrast to the chill of his office. After he’s cleaned you to his satisfaction you lift your arms, making grabby-hands at him. Chuckling while he pulls you up slowly, Fox helps you to your feet, easily catching you when your knees give out. By the time you’re settled, he’s got you curled up on his lap, your head tucked under his chin with his hands caressing your skin. Eventually he leans forward, and you blink owlishly when he pushes the flask into your hands.

“Sorry, we’ll have to share backwash.”

“Ohhh no,” you grumble, “not your backwash.” His chest jerks under you as he laughs, and you take a few grateful mouthfuls of water before you pass it back to him. “Fox?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know, mesh’la.” He sets the flask back on his desk after slaking his own thirst, pulling you in tighter against his chest. It took you until then to realize he’d taken his kit off, so all you’re pressed against is him through his blacks. For however long you can, the two of you bask in this. The simplicity of your bodies pressed together, of Fox holding you, both of you coming down from your highs together is enough. Even if it’s fleeting. “I love you too.” He pauses and gives your side a jab with his knuckles, making you squeal and squirm in his arms. “Even when you’re a pain in the ass.”

“Who’s got the hand-print bruises on their ass, now?” You scoff and twist in his arms to stare at him incredulously. “And you love it when I pull shenanigans.”

Fox rolls his eyes, and rather than respond outloud to your accusation, he pulls you in to kiss you again. But the answer is clear in the way he keeps kissing you, slow and meticulous in his exploration of your mouth with lips, tongue, and teeth.

Yes, he says. Over and over and over again until any of the work you’ve interrupted is forgotten.

And it’s just the two of you.

#Commander Fox x Reader #Clone Commander x Reader #spicy.txt #Prompt Fill #goddd had a lot of fun with this one #NSFT

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catboydogma · 2 years

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night after night after night

day 3 prompts: post-war (no order 66 au), the sun

cross-posted to ao3 + codywan week22 masterlist !

wc: 1162

tags: fix-it, fluff, hurt / comfort

Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn’t quite remember at what point, exactly, that Commander Cody had not just become a Commander or the Commander but his Commander—and not in the way that implied at him reporting to Obi-Wan for the first half of the war.

The second half—well. The GAR bureaucracy was overworked and understaffed, everyone knew that; so if Obi-Wan happened to slip a few forms past various noses in order to promote Cody to equal status as Obi-Wan, well… who could say where such things went when they got lost after the initial automated approval? Not Obi-Wan, that was certain. It was out of his hands and completely and entirely up to the will of the Force. And the very helpful young trooper working at Coruscant Guard HQ that had a rather terrifying aptitude for gaming the GAR systems.

In any case, by the time Obi-Wan watched the dawn breaking over some no-name black-dust world, he was already quite certain that he was out of his depth. He had not just waded past the warning buoys but had, perhaps, quickly and joyously been caught up by the riptide and whisked out to the metaphorical sea.

Cody looked smug and sweaty in the morning sun. He nudged through the blown-out pieces of Grievous with the muzzle of his DC-17, hands sure on the grip. With Dooku tried in Republic court and Palpatine finally outed by an irate service droid as having been selling GAR secrets to the Separatists, Obi-Wan and the 212th had taken point on burning out the rest of their strongholds. It was grueling, slogging, thankless work, but now they could all see an end to it—an end to the war, to the hunger, to the cold nights lying awake listening to troopers singing a funereal Vode An after a bad engagement.

“Satisfied?” Obi-Wan asked, half his attention on the swarm of the troopers across the plains stretching out around them. Utapau was all red-orange rock and dust; this, its third satellite, had a crust comprised of a black, brittle mineral that flaked and crumbled under pressure and glittered like the wings of a beetle in the pale sunlight. They were all coated in a thin film of dust that shone like an oil slick in the morning.

“Almost.” Cody and Crys cleaned Grievous’ remains up with little fuss and the rest of the clean-up effort passed in a blur. Obi-Wan was starting to lean more and more heavily into the Force, blurring the edges of his own physical awareness in exchange for keeping his mind sharp. Heavy boulders had to be lifted from where the droid army had triggered explosions to crush larties; troopers had to be loaded onto stretchers for medevac and lost scouting parties had to be located and retrieved. The sun painted the plains around them with nearly silver light, young enough to be nearly blue, still.

He found Cody at the edge of their encampment hours later. Days here stretched long for the galactic average, and Longshot and a few others had been optimistic over their chances of getting back on their way to Coruscant by nightfall.

“General,” Cody said, bucket under one arm and curls in sweaty disarray. They were all a little disheveled—the pace of things had sped up, once the Separatist senate had signed an armistice but most of their Generals had continued to fight. Obi-Wan had found he’d not been the only one to be gripped with a strange sense of urgency, as if they didn’t end things now, then they would be frozen like this for the rest of their lives, in the between of war and peace and resolution.

“Commander,” Obi-Wan said, stepping up next to him and swaying into his space. He nudged a shoulder up against Cody’s spaulder and nearly got an antenna in the eye for his troubles. “Enjoying the view?”

Cody deliberately turned his head to the side to look at Obi-Wan, the lines carved at the corners of his eyes and mouth deep in the stark white sunlight. This was a world of austere beauty and contrasts: white sunlight, black dust, jagged rock cut out against a sky of a pale blue that was nearly pink.

“Yeah,” Cody said, still looking at Obi-Wan. “I am.”

Later, Obi-Wan sat on his bedroll while his Commander stripped off his tunics and obi and cleaned the stinging burns all across his shoulders and upper arms. Later, Obi-Wan helped his Commander unlatch and stack up every piece of his sun-golden armor and spread bacta over his black-violet bruises and brushed feather-light kisses to the bacta patches on his abdomen and side from their last engagement. Later, Obi-Wan knelt at his Cody’s feet and took his head in both hands, watching the brush of Cody’s ink-dark lashes over the tops of his cheekbones.

“The war is over, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, just to test the words out. He knew—logically—that it hadn’t been that long at all.

It had been their world for years, though. It had been their entire existence, not just the troopers’ but Obi-Wan’s as well, for who was he if he did not devote himself wholly and fully to his cause?

“The war is over,” Cody agreed, tilting his face into the dip of Obi-Wan’s palm and leaning his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. “I won’t miss a single fucking second of it.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, rocking his head from side to side into the touch. “I suspect we’ll still be busy for a while after.”

“If they try to send us back out, I’ll do more than just arrest a Chancellor,” Cody said. He was probing, testing—it was an over-exaggeration, but Cody’s resolve was as a volcano: inevitable. Incendiary. It was one of the things Obi-Wan loved about him, his willingness to drive right to the brink and over, if necessary.

“We can pretend to elope,” Obi-Wan said. “The scandal shall distract the Galactic Senate long enough for Ponds to take over Coruscant.”

“’Pretend?’” Cody echoed, opening his eyes to fix Obi-Wan with a gimlet stare. “If you elope with me, you damn well better fully commit.”

“Yes, of course, dear,” Obi-Wan said, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “We shall elope, and all of our family and friends will never speak to us again.”

Cody nuzzled against the side of Obi-Wan’s temple. They were both still filthy, even after concerted efforts had been made towards ridding their clothing and skin of the clinging black grit and dust. Cody’s breath was warm against Obi-Wan’s ear. “Not for forever. Fox wouldn’t resist getting in a good gloat.”

“It would be well worth it, in any case,” Obi-Wan whispered. He felt like he had something stuck in his throat, painful and dry and aching. It was surely only the dust that had settled everywhere. Cody kissed the corner of Obi-Wan’s eye, then the other, lips rough and warm.

“It would be,” he whispered back.

#codywanweek2022 #sol's codywan week 22 #codywan #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #sw #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #hurt / comfort #fix-it #post-war #au - no order 66 #a heat rash in the shape of the show me state

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howdidthisevenhappenanyway · 2 years

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so in the star wars universe in my head, a lot of cisn’t clones have very bold eye make up designs straight up tattooed on their faces

it was a trend started by an early CG shock trooper called Sonia. She, along with the Corries’ Chief Medic Garrotte (before she’d been promoted out of the field) and their she/they buddy Captain Stone got absolutely plastered one night after surviving their first multi-district fire in the undercity, and pulled out the tattoo gun along with the bright, Corrie red ink they’d managed to get somewhere.

Soon followed Jaig eyes for Stone—which even Fox had to admit looked so fucking cool he very nearly caved and forgave them for it—and a flame design for Sonia that was very nearly as cool. Garrotte got a comparatively simple line slashed over each eye, from the sides of her nose to just below her temple. Fox would have given her credit for her subtlety, but she also tattooed her neck to mimic her namesake, a wire-thin red line around her throat just above her voice box, with a little bow on it ‘tied’ off to the side, just to be cute.

Garrotte was one of Fox’s favourites. the truth was it was cute. She was adorable; but this dangerous modification to her appearance made him want to strangle her because he wanted her to be safe.

and so, Fox had an actual panic attack when he saw all three of them the next morning, nursing their monstrous hangovers with kaf strong enough to stand a spoon up in, but feeling extremely smug about their new ink; their table in the mess hall surrounded by a crowd of excited corries, many of whom were keen to get their own very identifiable facial tattoos. This was at the tail end of the early days, where the clone brass of 000 were finally figuring out that if they wanted to stop haemorrhaging shinies (who universally seemed to think it was a smart idea to take up Senators’ spouses and children on an easy fuck or two whenever given the chance, and were then surprised when they got caught and the universally controlling and horrible Senators punished them for it—by summarily ordering their murder) they would need to present an absolute bescar-clad, perfectly united front. Which pretty much meant looking exactly the same so they could switch in and out and confuse the shit out of the kinds of senators that thought being cruel to clones and sending them for reconditioning or even decommissioning was fun.

So to Fox (the one exception to these rules, as Palpatine had already singled him out, so he decided to all but paint a giant red target on his armour to draw all eyes to himself), three of their most vulnerable troopers straight up etching their identities on their eyelids was the very height of conspicuousness, and so dangerous even with their recently laid down Buckets Stay The Fuck On When Outside The Barracks policy, that he insisted on them taking up desk jobs for the foreseeable future, safe behind the many guarded doors of the offices—a move that Fox later had to admit had been fruitful, as all three ladies turned out to actually be pretty brilliant at logistics and paperwork wrangling; which would eventually get Stone promoted to Commander so they could wrangle even more flimsy into submission. Little did the cake eaters of the GAR know the person who actually turned up to receive those promotions and consequently endure their soliloquies about exemplary service and flimsy keeping the GAR rolling was Thire and not Stone. but there was nothing for it, she’d made her bed, she had to lay in it (though she honestly didn’t seem nearly contrite enough for Fox’s patience, even years later).

Similarly, Garrotte thrived as Chief Medic, and quickly turned the Coruscant Guard’s med bay into her own fiefdom, using her authority to ensure more corrie troopers survived than anyone could have predicted given the conditions and their lack of extra supplies for the troopers they managed to safe from Decom via stealthy chip removals, serial number swaps, and slick paperwork wrangling (in fact The Three Sisters were the ones behind most of those little rescues, and Fox made sure not to learn any of the details so he could claim ignorance).

Those tatts and Fox’s public breakdown were the catalyst for the later famous speech about staying the fuck alive in the corrie guard, which became an unofficial list of rules that made Fox infamous amoung the GAR for being a fun hater and ball breaker but had him loved withequal furivor among the CG as the shock troopers in red realised that he was right; their identical appearance was like a second set of armour, in a place where their chances of survival were so much more fraught than anyone could have guessed.

It did mean, unfortunately, that no other CG sisters were able to get themselves that most coveted eye ink for quite a while after that first incident, till things settled down a little, and the Commanders were able to establish some more nuanced rules, having been able to gather data and figure out the most perilous positions for displaying the slightest scrap of individuality (rule adjustment 5: If a Clone Trooper of the Coruscant Guard hasn’t been ordered to debucket by a natborn superior in a Coruscant year, they may begin to experiment with ink and hairstyles within certain limits, see Base Medic Pat for details—do not under any circumstances bug Chief Medic Garrotte with your cosmetic concerns, or you’ll find yourself scrubbing bedpans) but as Sonia, Garrotte and Stone were the life of the party at 79s, as well as intra-clone community social media networks, and were often seen in clone-only spaces without their helmets on; many of their sisters in the wider GAR saw their face art, and and wanted in.

All too soon, the clone girlies posted on fronts all over the galaxy were frothing for a chance to avail themselves of this absolutely fire look. it was a trend that swept through the republic army faster than any one thought possible, with the only roadblocks anyone would allow to slow their roll being those the medics were able to get into place with fear campaigns of a slip of the wrist poking out eyeballs, horrific infections, and lost eyesight; all of which would draw desperately unwanted Kaminiise attention, and affect their ability to aim properly. Thanks to recently promoted Chief Medic Garrotte, who herself had awesome eyelid tatts, CMs everywhere were able to finally lay down the law about the more dodgy diy tattoo operations some clones had resorted to, and ensure a certain limit on battalion tattooists to the clones who were able to get their hands on actually suitable tattoo guns (one of the designs of which were rumoured to have come from General Skywalker himself, but no one other than the 501 were sure of that, and those vod’e were known to be full of shit), and medic-stream tattoo artists with training enough to be trusted with someone’s delicate and very essential eyelids.

The day Commander Bly announced her gender on the unofficial command chat with smiling selfie fluttering her brand new egg-yolk-yellow eye tats (the motif a stylistic fluttering ribbon that circled around to curve prettily over each cheek bone) was one to be remembered; especially as she seemed to be more thrilled at famed space lesbian General Sekura’s having noticed and complimented her on them, than anything else.

While Stone’s jaig eyes, which had been rightfully earned during the Battle of Geonosis, remained beloved among the GAR, and were widely considered the standard for coolness and badassery as far as most sisters were concerned, each member of the clone brass had their own favourites among their Battalion. Cody had to say his was Lt Sohla’s marigold sunbursts, that she had shyly admitted were inspired by his paint. Captain Rex was a big fan of the ladies in the 501st who had done some interesting designs inspired by their own Commander’s distinctive face and lek markings; while Captain Keeli was pleased to be asked to design several eye tattoos among his trans siblings, all inspired by various types of plumage he’d seen in his travels. Those tattoos were quite popular, his artistic talent visible for all to see on his lovely armour.

The artists all agreed it was a fun challenge to find designs that were unique and interesting, but streamlined in order to be able to get some sort of idea across with as little needle contact with the delicate skin as possible, to ensure such a vital part of their siblings were able to heal swiftly, and remain unimpeded.

As time went on some few sisters still wanted to have dark and blocky designs like their older vod’e, but as time went on it grew more popular to have designs that consisted of just a few lines; enough to communicate an idea and change their eye shape subtly, which could then be added to or filled out with colourful and glittery cosmetics on the rare occasions they could get away with it; generally during shore leave and nights at 79’s

fig. 1-6 examples of the tattoos described in textc

image sources: stone, garrotte, sonia, sohla, vod’ika 1, vod’ika 2

#clone trends #clone sisters #star wars headcanons #clone trooper sonia #chief medic garrotte #commander stone #clone trooper sohla #commander bly #commander fox #cisn’t vod’e #this started out as an idle headcanon post and ended up sounding like a school assignment leia did in a universe where 66 didn’t happen #gonna try and chase down the awesome peopl whose faces these are #my ocs #oc headcanons #fox is trying to keep his siblings alive ok?#but he thinks the tatts look great

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mwolf0epsilon · 7 months

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Dogma's Cyberbully

Dogma, grumbling to himself in the Guard Barracks while looking through his personal datapad: You've got to be kidding me... Hound, looking over at him: What's wrong? Dogma: For the last couple of weeks I've had the same person come after me on all my social media accounts. I think they're trying to get a rise out of me for some inexplicable reason... Hound: Oh? Dogma: They're literally trying to pick fights every time I post... From posting stupid things in response to my posts like 'Actually you're wrong because I think you're wrong', to replying to my comments with factually inaccurate bantha crap they pull out of thin air... Hound: Oof, sounds like you have your very own personal cyberbully vod! Slick, perking up: Oh shit, for real? Let me have a look, Dog! Dogma, glaring slightly at Slick but handing over the datapad: Knock yourself out, it never ends. Slick, scrolling through Dogma's notifications and whistling: Wow, they're absolutely committed... Dogma, groaning: I know... It's so draining... Slick: Eh, also easy to deal with. Just make 20 or so new alt accounts and start bully them back until they learn to back the hell off. Dogma and & Hound: Slick: Trust me, it works. I'll do it for you if you like, free of charge. Dogma: There is something terribly wrong with you. Slick: Probably!

---A week later---

Tech, staring at his datapad in dismay: Crosshair, have you per chance been using my personal pad without my knowledge or permission? Crosshair, shrugging nonchalantly: Maybe... Why? Tech: Because it appears I have 27 accounts sending me various messages to the effect of telling me to 'KYS'... Crosshair, perking up with a devious grin: Oh, so the guy has a posse to back him up. This should be entertaining... Tech, groaning because he's going to have to deal with the consequences of his brother's actions: Why did I expect better from you? Crosshair: No idea why you'd consider me that weak, now hand over the datapad. I've got people's holonet lives to ruin. Tech: I am beginning to understand why Hunter suffers so regularly from stress-induced headaches.

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone trooper dogma #sergeant hound #sergeant slick #tech #crosshair #coruscant guard dogma #coruscant guard slick

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squirrelno2 · 1 year

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My Star Wars OCs: a comedic primer

if you’ve wandered here from ao3 you’ve probably encountered at least one of these people, but if you’ve found me through the vagaries of tumblr that is less likely so! Here is a list of my major ocs for your convenience for the next time I start going off about nothing whatsoever, organised by the story/universe they were introduced in:

Sometimes a Family Is verse

Ven/Shiny: she/her, Nautolan, Dogma’s adopted daughter. half-forgotten childhood trauma papered over with borrowed trauma from her family who spends most of her time clinging to anything clone-related that she can

Nalyan: he/him, human, totally not Dogma’s adopted son (he is they just don’t ever admit it). A poorly rested limp noodle of a person who is too busy doing bootleg medical research in the back of a beat up ship to go outside.

Clone Rebellion verse

Sneak: he/him, clone, formerly served under Krell [Sneak darling I’m so sorry]. puts up a very good front of being a cool collected criminal mastermind when on a con but also will jump off a bridge if you dare him to. as one does.

Nali: she/her, Twi’lek, smuggler/con artist. her soft spot for slaves and clones is a parsec wide, but also she’s usually the one daring Sneak to jump off a bridge

Nine: he/him, clone, still serving under Krell. baby Nine is a bundle of joy and every version of him after the first chapter is deeply deeply fucked, but that won’t stop him from also daring Sneak to jump off a bridge. while doing a flip.

Drum: he/him, clone, pilot in 327th. he likes music and singing and making way too astute observations about people, and is probably the only person on this list who doesn’t think people should be dared to jump off bridges. in general he's under the impression he's the smartest person in the room, and on rare occasions he's almost right.

Dead Brothers Rescue Coalition verse

Nel: she/he/they, clone, lieutenant in the Coruscant Guard. by circumstance they are a pencil-pusher and by passion they are a detective, but mostly they're just really bad at friendship. they make up for it with stubbornness.

Jesse Lives verse

Jale: he/him, theelin, scavenger freelance salvage worker. brightly coloured dipshit who loves his mother and has never effectively used a weapon in his life. preferred survival tactics are Talking Too Much and Being Useful, but also the first one tends to get him into trouble more than anything.

Time Slip verse

Arson: he/him, clone, maintenance on Kamino. absolutely full of little shit energy and voted most likely to commit the crime he’s named for. likes droids more than people, which considering the people he knows is absolutely fair.

Murder: he/they, clone, washed-up medic in training turned Kaminoan maintenance. would never ever hurt a fly but also spends most of their time making excuses for their more violent loved ones because ??? cognitive dissonance I guess.

Jaywalking: she/her, clone, maintenance on Kamino. knows all your secrets and is just trying to decide if she wants to blackmail you or kill you over them. the thing keeping her from doing the latter is usually the fact that Murder and Arson would be sad about it.

Other

Nobody: he/him, clone, ARC trooper who works almost exclusively with 212th. he is exactly as fucked up as his name implies, and also more so because his best friend used to be Slick. make of that what you will.

Pip: he/him, clone, 501st. a beautiful ray of sunshine who will see the worst person in the room, ask "is anyone gonna befriend them?" and not wait for an answer.

Roadkill: he/him, clone, 501st. the worst person in the room. really tired of Pip's shit.

Zeel: she/her, Rodian, doctor with a very very lapsed license. abrasive at the best of times, but also winner of the "Most Cameos in My Fics" award because she can't stop helping people. mostly clones. she's very annoyed about that fact, too.

More OCs can be found @shagpaboloutpost (clones) and @relevant-url-incoming (SWTOR)

#I could pin this but i think it's more fun if i periodically reblog this as I add characters and keep making this everyone else's problem #sometimes a family is #clone rebellion fic #clone ocs #star wars ocs #if anybody. wants to poke me with questions about any of them. please do i'm dying to infodump and trying not to torment my girlfriend #this isn't even all of them #just the ones with major roles in a published fic #hell i didn't even include Nel who is arguably a major role in reunions but they've only shown up the once so far #someday Nel. someday i will give you a plotline worthy of you and it will only be mildly traumatic i promise

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sexy-rex · 2 years

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This is a rewrite of “You’re a monster” from Rex’s POV

Brothers do not kill brothers.

It was a truth and a fact they all lived by.

It was an unspoken understanding.

It was a code.

Which was why, when it did happen, it was so devastating.

Slick had shocked him, through to the core, and even now Rex still couldn’t begin to understand. Slick had said he’d been trying to save his brothers, to free them from slavery, but in saving them, he’d been responsible for killing them. Slick had knowingly and of his own free will committed crimes that directly resulted in the deaths of brothers - and brothers do not kill brothers.

Slick was a traitor to both the Jedi and his vode.

It was that simple.

Slick had betrayed the code.

Fox, on the other hand, was not simple.

Fox had also killed a brother.

Fox had shot Fives through the heart.

It should have been simple.

Brothers do not kill brothers.

But it was not simple.

Rex should have been able to declare Fox a traitor, because that was what he was; he had betrayed the code; he had killed a brother, and yet Rex couldn’t bring himself to do it, not yet anyway.

He needed to talk to Fox first.

So, the next morning, after having a fitful nights sleep in his nook in the Coruscant barracks, he headed straight for CGHQ. Fox was just leaving his office, when Rex fell into step beside him.

“Rex.” Fox acknowledge him without so much as slowing his pace, officious as ever.

“I think it’s time we talked.” Rex said, watching Fox closely for any clue in his body language that would let Rex know what he was thinking. Fox gave absolutely nothing away, just the same way he’d been since they were cadets.

Fox nodded: “Follow me.”

They walked in silence, Fox nodding to guards on duty and random officials, as if everything was the same as it had been before; as if he hadn’t killed a brother; as if he hadn’t broken the code and become a traitor to his brothers. Rex felt his anger spike and he clenched his fists.

Maybe it did mean nothing to Fox, the thought slid into his mind. Maybe Fox didn’t care.

But if that was true, and it meant nothing to Fox, then Fox wasn’t the man Rex had always mistaken him for, and that thought made his anger became laced with a sting of betrayal.

The moment they were alone, Rex let his emotions get the better of him, and he grabbed Fox by the chest plate and shoved him up against the wall, if nothing else, wanting to get a response from Fox that wasn’t absolute indifference.

Fox did nothing.

Rex may as well not have been there at all.

Rex pulled off his helmet and stared into Fox’s visor, trying to see his eyes, trying to see if there was anything at all of the brother he’d thought he’d known.

“I know what you think of me, Rex.” Fox said, voice devoid of emotion, and he pulled off his own helmet, his face devoid of expression. “You think I’m a monster.”

“You are a monster.”

Rex responded before he’d even thought about what he was saying and he regretted it almost as soon as the words left his mouth, or at least he thought he regretted it — but if Fox had killed a brother, broken the code, and felt nothing, no remorse, no sadness, maybe Fox was a monster.

They stared at each other.

“I saw the report you sent to General Skywalker.” Rex’s voice was low, and he desperately tried to stop it from shaking. “‘You neutralised an armed and dangerous assailant.’“

Fox didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at him blankly.

“It was Fives. Fives, our brother. Not just some nameless fucking assailant!” Rex’s heart was breaking. “You shot a brother dead!”

Fox still didn’t say anything.

“Don’t you fucking care a brother is dead by your hands?!”

Rex could feel the tears in his eyes now and knew he was close to losing it all together. He just needed something from Fox, anything at all.

He just needed Fox to tell him — he just wanted Fox to break down, to scream and yell that he hadn’t meant to kill Fives, it had been an accident, he’d thought his blaster was on stun…

“You have every right to hurt me, Rex. I won’t stop you.”

Rex faltered.

Fox was still expressionless, his voice flat, and his words made no sense to Rex.

“You want to hurt me, so go ahead.” Fox said again, lifting his arms up straight to the side, exposing his whole body to Rex. “I won’t stop you.”

Rex didn’t want to hurt Fox.

He just wanted Fox to tell him — he just wanted Fox to shout that he’d been doing his fucking job, Fives had been armed and dangerous and he’d had no other choice, he’d been protecting his men, he had a duty to the Republic and the Chancellor…

Rex searched Fox’s face.

“You said it yourself, Rex, I killed a brother.”

“You want me to hurt you,” Rex muttered, still trying to understand.

“It’s what I deserve.” And just like that Fox’s voice broke and his whole body began to shake. “I’m a monster.”

Rex let him go and stood back, watching as Fox slid down to his knees, hiding his face in his hands, his body convulsing in silent tears. The true, raw, sharp pain hurt Rex to look at, and part of him wanted to drop down to his knees beside Fox and wrap him in his arms, relieved that Fox did care, he cared so much he was breaking inside, he wasn’t a remorseless killer of brothers; but the other part of him whispered that yes Fox regretted it, Fox was full of remorse and agony for what he’d done, but Fox had still broken the code, Fox had still shot Fives through the heart, not the arm or leg, but the heart; Fox hadn’t tried to bring Fives in alive, he hadn’t given Fives even a sliver of a chance to explain his actions or defend himself. Fox had killed Fives, deliberately.

“You should kill me.” Fox gasped in between sobs.

“I’m not going to kill you, Fox.” Rex said, sadly. “I’ve already lost enough brothers.”

Fox looked up at him, and Rex saw the desperate need in his eyes, both pleading and hopeful.

“But I don’t forgive you.”

Fox looked back at the floor between his knees.

“You have to live with what you’ve done.”

It was only as he was walking away that the realisation hit him. Fox had meant to kill Fives, but Fox hadn’t wanted to kill Fives. Fox had been following orders, but from the shock and hurt on the faces of Fox’s men when their Commander had shot and killed a brother, they were orders that had only been given to Fox. They were orders from someone with a lot of power in the Senate, orders from someone who didn’t want what Fives had to say being heard, and if this someone didn’t want the facts to come out, maybe there was something to what Fives had been saying all along.

Rex paused, almost turned back to Fox, and then continued on his way.

At the end of the day, brothers do not kill brothers.

It was a truth and a fact they all lived by.

It was an unspoken understanding.

It was a code.

#the clone wars #clone wars #captain rex #commander fox #my fic writing #Mo

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airlockfailure · 2 years

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Invictus AU Head-canons CG Commanders Edition: Fox

Canon portrays Commander Fox as duty bound and fearless. In Invictus I decided that wasn't going to be the case. Fox is still duty bound, but I chose to make him terrified of a lot of things, just incredibly good at hiding his fear from others.

He's overprotective of the Coruscant Guard (especially the shinies and the CCs) and close friends, worries all the time about his batchmates, is an arachnophobe (that's Lego comic canon), and like many other creators' head-canons Fox is prone to self-detrimental behavior. He's similar to the colloquial "mom friend" who goes "No one else is going to do it? Okay, I will" especially in regards to keeping parts of the Republic functioning. The Ingress? He streamlined refugee intake in order to 1. weed out CIS conspirators 2. make the workload on his men less cumbersome 3. make the workload on the nat borns less cumbersome and 4. Fox hates disorder. The prison system? He's been painstakingly weeding out the corruption and misuse of funding. The Republic is broke, after all, and they ought to prioritize war criminals over citizens trying to survive. (Fox is compassionate to a fault, and dislikes injustice.) The Senate? Fox does everything he can (and then some) to try and keep the CG and the clone army as a whole in the good graces of the Republic. He's not a politician. He's not...

He takes normal GAR stims (mega doses of caffeine) to keep going, but he also takes contraband stims that are illicit drugs and is somewhat too reliant on them. Why is he not addicted to them? He is, but Fox is brutal toward himself, and is repeatedly cut off cold-turkey from supply because he ends up injured or too busy. He usually hides in the med center in Myth's office when he's going through withdrawal (while still trying to get work done, damn it Fox). The last one he ever uses is in his fight with Dooku. He doesn't touch them again after that, and even stops drinking so much caf (because lightsaber versus guts equals digestive problems).

He's afraid of drowning, but taking inspiration from that one post discussing how the Force is an eldritch horror, the drowning phobia is a metaphor for his use of the Darkside. IMO the Darkside would be the natural state of Force users if they were not exposed to Jedi teachings. Jedi exist after thousands and thousands of years of trial and error learning how to mitigate the Force's negative affects on the user. Fox, having no training, and limited exposure to Jedi where he is not at odds with them (SKYWALKER), and constantly exposed to Palpatine, and relying entirely on instinct and emotion to power the fuck through every day, Fox is drowning in darkness. He's also preoccupied with saving other clones, and in his own opinion, sometimes selfishly so.

Why doesn't Sidious sniff Fox out? Well, Sidious is trying to sniff Fox out. Fox really only begins to use the Force in earnest after helping Slick. Prior to that, he's locked down, and accidentally does things due to strong emotions (resurrecting CT-2587 or being clairvoyant for brief moments when someone is in danger: see Dawn's situation at the start of Invictus). On top of that, Fox believes he's alone in his ability to use the Force. When Colt tells him that's not the case, and gives him intel on Slick, Fox mistakes Colt's words to mean that Slick is the only other Force-sensitive clone. Colt works on Kamino. He sees some weird shit. Colt knows 100% there's a shit ton of Force-sensitive clones. And it's the sheer numbers of them that help keep Fox hidden for so long. It's not until his showdown with Sidious that they fully recognize each other. Sidious has been hunting his nightmares, and Sidious does know about Slick.

I write Fox as a sex-positive asexual. Fox is tactile and shows physical affection toward other clones by hugging them, sharing his bunk or their bunk. He lets tired troopers sleep on his shoulder. He holds dying men until they pass (if possible, sometimes it's not safe). He's constantly offering comfort to those around him. He says he's not great with words, but for a clone, you could consider Fox silver-tongued. He can lie, and he can convince people to believe him. For the clones, usually it's the phrase "everything will be okay".

I ship Fox with Riyo (and headcanon Riyo as being about 23-25). Thorn is friends with Riyo first, via escorting Padme frequently. Riyo respects the clones. She faced her insecurities as a senator with the 501st and learned a few things about war, battle, and her distaste for callousness toward life. She can take care of herself (which is great because Fox is already juggling more than he can handle), but more importantly, in regards to Fox, Riyo wants to help the clones. She wants to help him help the clones. Fox has no voice in the Senate, so Riyo speaks for him. Fox is so starved of everything a normal human has, and Riyo gives him everything. He is not attracted to her, but he loves her.

It was initially Thorn's idea to get Riyo to ask Fox out for caf. Partly as a joke, and partly because Fox needs to stop working for five seconds. And then they became serious about it, and saved the Republic and the clones (and the Jedi).

Fox doesn't actually like the color blue (LOL) or red (he hates red, and blue he has the unfortunate association of the 501st causing more chaos for him to take care of sghsgskhfd). He likes what's described as "wine-dark" because he saw the ocean at sunset once on Kamino and it burned into his brain.

Fox's Phase I bucket belonged to another clone on Geonosis. Fox had to slice it's protocols because the clone wasn't a commander. The bucket is glitchy, prone to system failure and blue-screening, but Fox is attached to it. Thorn keeps it safe for him during the upgrade to Phase II. Fox's Phase II bucket is shattered in half by the end of the war because he gives Sidious a Force backed kov'nyn (headbutt).

Fox was officially adopted by the elderly Mandalorian Aren Kelborn who had been living among refugees on Coruscant. While Fox isn't sure he sees Aren as a father figure (more like a dangerous grandpa), his death is a major loss for Fox's mental well being, as he has to go back to saving clones on his own. Aren bequeathed Fox with his beat up Beskar armor, which Fox uses as a disguise when doing unsanctioned things.

It's called the Invictus AU based on the poem by William Ernest Henley, and because in the illegal gambling fights Fox was placing himself into to earn credits for decommissioned troopers, he held the moniker "Invictus" because he didn't feel comfortable being called "Mando" (he doesn't believe he deserves to be Mandalorian despite Aren's insistence and adoption). Fox has a tattoo down is spine in Mando'a that's a line from the poem (is there a space version of William Ernest Henley? This is fiction, so why not?)

I wanted to write Fox as undefeated. The only person who defeats Fox is himself.

Is Fox overpowered? Yes. But after all the crap people give him, I think he deserves to be.

#cc 1010 #commander fox #invictus au #swtcw #tcw #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #force sensitive clones #asexual fox #force sensitive fox #airlock writes #clone wars headcanons

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icouldntfinditsoiwroteit · 2 years

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Vampire clones (Slick) Part 2

Previous<<

Slick sat silently, the entire bridge was silent as clones walked from one side to the other or sat looking at their screens, making sure the ship worked, but he could feel the stares and glares sent his way.

There were two obvious and the only actual reasons for said stares, first, he was known as the traitor clone, the clone who had caused the death of countless brothers, and second, even if Slick didn't want to acknowledge it, it was that not only was the Jedi sitting beside him, but they had their tail wrapped around him tight enough so that he couldn't try anything but not tight enough to hurt him.

Slick glanced to the side and noticed how the Jedi was sitting still, but even then the visor over their eyes made it impossible to know if they were looking at him.

"Is something the matter?" Their voice almost startled him as he looked away huffing.

"Are you going to keep me here until we get there?" Slick asked.

"Yes," They gave him a smile that only made Slick want to roll his eyes.

"Doesn't this ship have some cells?"

The Jedi hummed in formation.

"I may be trusting you with this mission, but I know that you are more than capable of escaping our contention cells going by your record in prison,"

"So, it's not like I'll be able to actually escape,"

"But in the time it takes us to apprehend you once more, you will most probably have already hurt quite a few of my men,"

"That is something I am not willing to risk,"

Slick remained silent after this, the Jedi took this as an end to their conversation as they looked away and reached for their datapad to busy themselves.

During the time Slick looked around and noticed how he was still getting the same stares and glares, this managed to prompt a question that he debated on asking for a while until he finally asked.

"How did you get the paper pushers to like you?" Slick asked not looking at the Jedi but more than aware of how their tail slightly tensed.

"Hard work, some explosions, and a miracle or two," Slick couldn't find any trace of the Jedi's voice but actually was able to notice the amusement on their voice.

"I know that many think the coruscant guard have it easy since they are in Coruscant, even some of my fellow Jedi have been surprised how actually dangerous being there is,"

"What, do you have to finish the food the Senators don't want?" Slick asked sarcastically.

"Their work doesn't revolve around the senate only, but to all of coruscant, patrols to different levels, persuing criminals, having to deal with the Senators and their constant death threats, I could go on for a while," They began with a serene voice that made Slick's skin crawl.

"I don't see where the explosions come in," Slick said trying to make the conversation a bit more interesting.

The Jedi hummed as it seemed they tried to remember one.

"Around the start of the war, when I had only been assigned to coruscant...."

Flashback

"This is General (F/N) report back..." (F/N) demanded but all they got was radio silence.

"Sir, no one has answered any of our comms," Commander Thorn informed.

(F/N) remained still for a moment as they tried to think what to do.

"Has any comm to the chancellor gone trough?"

Thorn shook his head.

Just as (F/N) was going total once more a beeping sound pulled their attention.

"It's a comm, from inside the senate," One of the clones informed as he answered it.

"If anyone gets this, the senate is under attack, bounty hunters have the senators as hostages, send help!"

"Knight Skywalker?" (F/N) couldn't help but voice their surprise before refocusing.

"I'm going in, prepare a squad," (F/N) instructed.

"Yes sir," Thorn saluted before running out.

"Inform the Jedi Temple and the rest of the guard, we may need some backup," (F/N) ordered as they left the room.

"General, the squad is ready to go in," Commander Thorn informed as the squad saluted.

"Good, you are in charge during my absence commander,"

Timeskip

(F/N) walked carefully around the droid's body on the floor.

"Seems Knight Skywalker has been able to handle himself," (F/N) muttered as they noticed the lightsaber cuts.

"Sir?" One of the clones from the squad asked.

"Let's continue, I can sense we are near but remain alert," (F/N) instructed as they began making their way through the rotunda.

As they neared the center (F/N) signaled to stop, being able to feel the warning and panic in the force, they opened the door and their eyes widened in alarm at what they saw.

(F/N) made eye contact with Anakin who yelled the one word that made (F/N)'s heart drop.

"BOMB!" He screamed as he used his lightsaber to cut through the floor.

(F/N) closed the door and turned.

"GET DOWN!" (F/N) yelled as they ran, shifting into their "beast form" and tackling them.

Just as they hit the ground the bomb went off.

(F/N) held themselves tightly around the clones, using their body to not only protect them from the blast but also from the debris.

End of flashback

"It took the rescue squad around an hour to get us all out, fortunately, they only had some bruises," The Jedi explained with a relieved tone.

"And how exactly did you protect five entire clones?" Slick asked skeptically.

"Oh, right, you've probably never seen another Nakild, but we can all shift into our "beast" form, most describe them to be like dragons," They explained without missing a beat.

"So you could just turn into a giant monster on the battlefield?" Slick asked lacing around and noticing some glares at him harder than before.

"Correct,"

"Then why do you even need my help?"

"You will help in making everything faster and it will prevent many deaths, that is much more than I can ask for,"

Slick couldn't help but feel annoyed at this Jedi's serene demeanor, no matter what they had remained calm except for...

"Why don't you just use those loyal dogs of yours to push back against the scrap bots?"

"It surely would be faster," Slick almost smiled when he noticed the slight tick on the Jedi's lip and how the tail around him squished him lightly but just as fast as it had come it left.

"As I said, it will prevent many deaths, and please, do not refer to my men like that," The Jedi answered calmly and serenely, even giving him a patient smile as if dealing with a tubbie.

.....It sickened Slick to his core.

Next>>

AN: So I may have shifted Slick's interest a bit, instead of being "I hate all jedi except you" I'm going more for as sort of more "I hate but I also want you"

#vampire clones au #yandere?#I guess....#yes #the clone wars #sergeant slick #yandere clone slick

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depressed-sock · 8 months

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Strays and the Hands that Feed Them by depressed-sock

Part Three ( 9,389 words )

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types

Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Darth Maul, Coruscant Guard Clone Troopers & Darth Maul

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Wiping the other's tears away

Mainly Feral, Savage, and Maul pov's this time around! Tried to give everyone a different reason to be crying: anger, pain, mourning the loss of a relationship, relief.

...

Feral breathes in deeply, taking in the tainted air of Coruscant as he makes his way through some back alley on one of the lower levels. He didn’t catch the number that Thorn had typed into the elevator but Feral knows it’s farther than he’s been allowed to go before.

It’s such a different world compared to his small village on Dathormir that’s only ever been filled with other Nightbrothers. There are so many other kinds of people here, so many buildings that tower far above where the ground of the planet should be. It comes with dangers far different than what Feral could have ever imagined possible. Some of which are far easier to deal with than the beasts that roam his home’s swamps.

Some of which, that are more difficult because you don’t realize they’re a danger until it’s nearly too late.

Despite the sickly air and the varied people and the towering cities, when Feral breathes all he can feel is a heartbeat similar to Dathomir. That darkness that clings to his skin and melts into his bones. Feral hadn’t even noticed there was a darkness on Dathomir but Coruscant brings that fully to the front of his mind.

Because it is here but it’s weaker. Sometimes he can’t tell if he’s breathing easier because of that or suffocating from the lack of it.

Thorn bumps him, a soft shoulder-to-shoulder touch to ground Feral back into the moment. “Come on we’re almost there.”

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Feral huffs out an amused laugh. One thing he has learned in his time here is that Thorn likes… detours. Which Feral thinks actually means getting lost, even though Thorn claims he isn’t lost only ‘finding new possible routes’. Feral refuses to call him out on it because Thorn’s detours are a break Feral always sorely needs.

It helps keep his mind off of Savage who still refuses to meet Feral’s eyes or stay in a room longer than a few moments since Thorn started introducing them to the intricacies of Coruscant and its people.

Savage whose hand has left a ghost of an imprint on Feral’s throat.

The near-constant dull pain reminding Feral just how nearly his brother had come to crushing it while he’d been temporarily under the Nightsisters’ control. Feral has never blamed Savage for it but he thinks Savage must carry some blame considering the most he’s seen of his brother is when they’re both working together for Slick and Maul.

Maul who is a whole other problem Feral doesn’t know how to deal with.

The situation sparks something deep inside Feral. A dark pit of smoke fueled by the fire that burns in his thoughts. None of this is fair. None of this is right.

Thorn groans, stepping over something broken that had been tosed into the alleyway and just left there to rot. “I’m not lost!”

Feral blinks as he steps over it next, rushing his steps to keep even with Thorn. Trying to remember what he just said. Something about the right direction? He chuckles when the words finally register in his head, “You said that last time and we ended up two hours away from where we were supposed to meet your supposed contact.”

Thorn specifically pulls off his helmet, clipping it to his side, so he can make a face Feral, “That was the contact’s fault! Gave me bad directions and then didn’t even show up anyway.”

Feral just shakes his head with a grin, remembering Thorn getting sidetracked by baby tookas that had eventually led in a chase to get them all before they walked off a platform and into the air traffic. “I’m sure the tookas appreciated the bad directions at least. Even if they didn’t like being grabbed by their tails.”

Thorn had gotten scratched for that. There’s still a tiny hint of red marks along his jaw. Clearly healed but on the verge of becoming light scars.

“Says the tooka that got dropped in the Guard’s office,” Thorn mutters with an eye roll. Eventually giving in to the smile he’s trying so hard to fight when Feral laughs.

“Yes, as one of the newest members of team Stray Tooka, I can speak for my brothers and say we appreciate your efforts. Even when you fell into that puddle that made you smell terrible for a week after that.”

“I swear you’re supposed to be the nice one.”

“Am I not being nice?” Feral asks with a tilt of his head and a frown. Trying his best to hide his joy at the teasing.

“Making fun of me after everything I’ve taught you.” Thorn tsks with a shake of his head. He stops a moment, looking quickly around, before motioning Feral to follow him down a different alleyway.

“I’m sure learning how not to catch tooka’s will be very helpful to me one day,” Feral nods his head sagely, easily dodging the smack aimed at the back of his head.

“Alright, smartass. Let me teach you a new lesson it’s called: Thorn is always right and has never gotten lost.” Thorn holds out a hand and Feral grasps it as Thorn drags him into what Feral had thought was just an odd-looking building.

Instead, he’s greeted by a lush jungle of plants that have grown and overtaken the interior.

“What?” Feral blinks, taking in the area with surprise.

“Used to be a greenhouse the Jedi looked after. Mainly focused on growing food for the poorer levels.” Thorn shrugs, “Someone in the Senate threw a fit about it though, so the Jedi supposedly stopped caring for it, a little bit just before the war started.” Thorn walks in, fingers brushing over leaves, “No one bothered to get rid of it and I’m pretty sure a Jedi stops by every once in a while making sure the automatic system is still keeping everything alive. Or they do their Jedi magic on the plants, I’ve never seen them stick around long enough to ask.” Thorn shrugs again, reaching up into a tree and plucking a fruit.

He tosses it to Feral, “I know Zabrak’s diets are more meat based but you can enjoy fruits right?”

“Of course,” Feral studies the fruit in his hands, softly rolling it back and forth. His eyebrows pinch together, “There’s no contact here, is there?”

“Just us.” Thorn turns and moves deeper into the plants, Feral follows behind close enough that Thorn can easily drag him down onto a bench beside him. “Figured you could use some time away from everyone. Looked like they were starting to get on your nerves.”

Feral winces, “I didn’t think anyone noticed.” He’s usually better at hiding when he’s upset. Better at controlling the temper that wants to flare up just beneath his skin. He’s weak, he knows that now.

Too weak to protect his brother. Too weak to keep his emotions in check.

Too weak to fight the darkness growing in his veins with each second he breathes in the Coruscant air. He doesn’t understand why it’s worse than Dathomir when it’s so much weaker. On Dathomir it existed not just inside of him but beside him, around him. A part of him like it was apart of everything else. Here it sticks like something foreign. It clogs his lungs, burns his mind.

“It’s kind of hard to hide that from us,” Thorn leans back into the bench, “We have to be aware at all times of other people’s emotions because you never know when something that turns from quiet contemplation will turn into nearly beating you to death.”

Feral winces. He’s seen what others have done to the clones. He didn’t think there could be anyone worse than the Nightsisters but… well he’s not happy to be proven wrong. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just our lot in life.” He reaches out gripping Feral’s shoulder. “We don’t think you’ll hurt us Feral we think you’ve been through some fucked up shit and haven’t had a chance to recover. Sometimes you’ve got to let those emotions run free and here the only thing you can break is a bunch of plants that’ll all grow back anyway.”

Feral lets out a shuddering breath. “It’s my fault.” He chokes on his words, “It’s my fault that Savage... I was too weak against the Nightsister, I joked about being able to keep up but I couldn’t.”

His hands clench the fruit, claws digging in, juice dripping down his fingers, thick like blood. “I hate them. Hate that they’ve done this to us. Changed us so that we can’t be the same anymore.” His fingers dig deeper crushing the fruit, he bares his teeth at it. “My brother can’t even look me in the eyes anymore. Because all he sees is when he held me by my throat and almost broke my neck.“ He tosses the fruit down. There’s an itch under his skin that forces him to stand and pace.

He mourns what has been lost. Of course, he does. But he’s angry too. Angry at himself for needing to be protected, angry at the Nightsisters for causing all of this, angry at Savage for avoiding him, he’s even angry at Maul who didn’t show up soon enough to save either of them from this.

Maul would say to use the anger, fester in it. Let it power him. But there’s no power here, just this feeling of overwhelming emotion that wants him to tear himself and everything around him apart.

It feels nothing like the darkness of Dathomir. Dathomir was always harsh, never kind but in a way that was just how life always is. The cycle of life, death, decay, then life again. It wasn’t despair, it wasn’t anger. It was just what it has always been, never pretending to be anything different.

It feels like the darkness that’s infected Coruscant. Sickly, infesting, overpowering everything that is him. Feral wonders if this is how Savage felt when the Nightsisters first changed him. Power forced into his veins, spreading like infection until what’s left behind is someone unrecognizable.

He misses his brother. Misses his village, misses everyone he cares about. Misses the children he would help care for. And all of that just makes him angrier.

He growls deep in his throat, lashing out against a plant that tangles onto him when he brushes too close. Rips it to shreds then does so again and again and again. He’s panting, tears running down his face as his knees hit the ground and he curls in on himself, letting out a keening sound.

He’s so angry at everything and everyone. It doesn’t make anything better, it just makes it all hurt worse. Seeping into the open wounds in his heart and in his head.

A hand rests on his back and Feral’s breath shudders at the touch. He looks up to find Thorn sitting next to him on the ground, hand rubbing circles on his back. “Feel any better?”

“No,” his words come out as broken sobs, “I feel like something’s putting poison into me.”

Thorn frowns at that, studies Feral for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he pulls at Feral’s shoulder forcing him to sit up. “Well let’s try something else then.” He brushes Feral’s tears away and settles into an awkward pose trying to cross his legs, wincing as his armor doesn’t allow the movement. He sighs, unclips his thigh armor and tries again. “I don’t know shit about Jedi meditation but sitting around like this surrounded by plants is something they do so we can start there.”

Feral’s smile isn’t all there, he wants to hurt Thorn even though he really doesn’t. Wants to lash out and kill or just leave and not come back. Instead, he mirrors Thorn and closes his eyes.

“Breathe in deep and hold it for a few seconds before letting it go.”

Feral does, following Thorn’s example even though it seems he’s mostly guessing at what to do. It’s enough though. Feral feels himself calm, feels the drain his emotions have left on him. Feels the emptiness left behind.

He’s tired now. Exhausted. But he feels better. Less heavier, less like something is digging itself into him.

He breathes and for the first time in months, he feels more like himself. He breathes and for the first time in months the air feels a little less tainted.

…

He’s not sure how it happens. He’s in a bit of a daze after that but he ends up leaving the makeshift greenhouse with Thorn and by the time he realizes it they’re now in Fox’s office.

Feral lays down curled up on the couch. Staring blankly at the wall as Thorn takes over Fox’s desk. Going over some of the datapads on Fox’s desk with a frown. At one point Fox walks in, brushes a hand softly against his horns, then he moves with purpose as he immediately goes to shove Thorn out of his seat. Stealing it back as he sits down and starts to work.

Never once questioning why Feral is here as Feral drifts off into sleep.

…

“Hey Fox, what are the odds the Evil fucker did some dark side shit to infect people on Coruscant?”

“What do you mean?”

“Took Feral to let off some steam and he said he felt worse. Like something was trying to poison him.”

“…I’ll ask Maul. Maybe that’s how the old bastard is hiding himself from the Jedi.”

…

Maul is several hours deep into strategy planning when one of his hirelings knocks on the holo table, he’s stationed himself at, to get his attention. “Hey boss, there’s a clone wanting into the base. If you don’t hurry I think the Mando might do something drastic.”

Maul pinches the brow of his nose and curses quietly under his breath. He should have expected something like this to come up eventually. He hadn’t exactly hired any of these people for their pleasant sensibilities but he’d hoped they were more intelligent than they looked.

They know Maul has a deal with the Coruscant Guard. Or at least they should know, Maul hasn’t exactly been subtle that one of his main contacts and suppliers is a branch of the Guard. Slick and those under his command had been reluctant at first but they’ve developed enough of a working relationship that they’re not afraid to come to Maul when they need someone dead or need to make an illegal deal. So Maul’s crew should be fully aware that Maul will shred them into pieces if they even think of touching any of them.

Maul doesn’t run, that would be too much weakness shown to people he doesn’t fully trust. Instead, he strides promising death with each step he takes as he exits his office and out into the warehouse proper. He expects to see the Mandolarian being the one causing trouble. Instead, she stands between the clone and several of Maul’s other hirelings, gun drawn on them.

Maul looks the clone over and at first glance Maul doesn’t recognize who they are. They’re in plain clothes not a speck of armor in sight, though that would not have been much help in most cases anyways. As he nears though he can see the familiar scowl that belongs wholly to the Guard’s CMO.

“Touch him and I’ll flay you fucking alive Cross.” The Mando growls, her grip tightening on her gun as the Cathar bares his teeth.

“It shouldn’t be here Arla, it’ll blow our whole operation-”

Neither of them notices the way Shivers rolls their eyes in exasperation. “Considering I patch up your boss in my free time, and the fact that we work with him, I’d think your operation is safe from me. Also Cross was it? Next time you touch me without my permission I’ll let you bleed out when you eventually show up at my clinic.”

The Cathar blanches at that. He must be familiar then with the fact that there’s a clone who runs a free clinic in the lower levels. Maul watches the flash of regret that crosses the Cathar’s face and he feels zero sympathy for the man.

“They,” Maul growls as he takes the steps down to the main floor, “Are free to come and go from here as much as they want.” The way Shivers relaxes noticeably at the sound of his voice makes something purr in satisfaction deep in Maul’s chest.

He can’t say he’s surprised at Shivers showing up here. He’d been expecting it to happen sooner or later considering how often the medic likes to corner Maul as soon as he steps foot on the planet. If he didn’t know better he’d think the medic had gone through with their threat and placed, instead of a bomb in his spine, a tracker.

Maul’s paranoia had him check for that the first time he left Coruscant after recovering. There’d been nothing anyone could find but Shivers is smart. Probably let Maul’s paranoia settle then got him when he wasn’t paying attention. All of his Guard are like this, hitting their targets when no one else would ever be aware. It makes Maul want to let them loose from their shackles of the Republic just to see the real damage they could all accomplish.

Shivers waves a hand in Maul’s direction glaring down Maul’s group of criminals with no fear. “Are we done here? I’ve got things I need to talk to your boss about.”

The Cathar grits his teeth stalking off and pulling his cronies after him. The Mandalorian hesitates before she shoves her gun in its holster, not turning to look at the Clone as she walks off in the opposite direction.

“Are they all like that?” Shivers asks with clear displeasure on his face.

Maul glares at the few lurkers who’ve stuck around, watching as they scramble to leave in the face of his ire, “If they are I might have to kill them all and start fresh.”

“Fox would say that’s a waste of resources,” Shivers delivers with a bland tone.

“Fox would send them all on a ‘trip’ and they’d most likely end up crashing into a sun.” Which has apparently happened to at least one particular delegation early on in the war. Maul doesn’t know why Fox had them killed but he’s certain they all deserved it. “Not that I don’t mind your presence here but I believe that we’ve already had our appointment Shivers.” Which had involved several needles much to Maul’s displeasure.

“We have a new one,'“ Shivers scowls. Shifting with a faint hint of nervousness. “I need to speak with you privately.”

“Of course, this way,” Maul turns on his heel, making his way back up to his office, Shivers trailing close behind. When he enters he lets Shivers shove past him before he shuts the door. He doesn’t lock it as he makes his way to his table, dropping into one of the chairs and making sure that the medic has a clear way to get out of the room if they want to. “I’m assuming that this isn’t about anything I’ve done.”

Shivers snorts as they kick out a chair and sit across from from him. “No, though I should be considering you’ve got Jedi that have been trying to hunt you down. They won’t stay distracted forever by the evidence of abuse and corruption from members of their order and the other natborn officers in the GAR.”

Maul hmms, “I was wondering why they’ve been so quiet lately. And I have no one in the Guard to thank for that?” He glances down at his claws as he idly picks them clean. How easy was it for them to get that information? How much of it have they been saving to take down the Order or at the very least cull the bad seeds in it?

It kind of pisses him off. The greatest enemy he’d been raised to help destroy is already failing from within. Maybe it was his old Master’s plan this whole time. Maybe it’s the failings of incompetence and complacency, of choosing not to act and rather let things fester.

“I’m not here to discuss that anyway,” their fingers tap nervously against the table, leg shaking like an unstoppable force. “I need you to test my shields.”

Maul’s eyes widen in surprise. “Why?” The question comes out harsh, fueled by the sudden wave of anger that rushes through him. Has someone tried to break into the clone’s mind? Does someone need to die? Slowly and painfully. Specifically by Maul’s hands.

“Listen,” Shivers holds up their hands letting a wave of calm certanity brush Maul’s senses, “I just need to make sure my shields can hold up to someone digging for information.”

“Has someone tried that already?” Maul lets his anger burn a second more under his skin before he lets it go. Calm overtaking so he can listen clearly to what Shivers has to say. He has to be careful, with Fox’s theory of Sidious poisoning the force on Coruscant. Maul can’t afford to be incapacitated by vengeance.

“No, not yet. Or at least as far as I’m aware no one hasn’t yet.”

“You would know.” Maul is certain of that. There hits a point in force nulls where it’s impossible not to tell that something else is in their head with them. The clones would know sooner than that because they are actively trying to prevent that intrusion. There’s a few other reasons but Maul doesn’t think any of the clones would be overjoyed by them.

Shivers nods his head. “Good to know.” They bite their lip before continuing. “Early on in the war I got myself purposefully reconditioned.”

“You what?” Maul hisses, the anger flaring back up is quieter but no less deadly.

Shivers winces, “Yes I’m aware how fucked that sounds. I don’t know why I did it for sure, just that I found something I shouldn’t have found. That knowing whatever it was put me and everyone else in the Guard at risk so I did the only thing I could that would guarantee I’d either forget it entirely or would have a hard time recalling anything about it for a hopefully long period of time.“

They take a long breath in through their nose and out through their mouth. “But it’s more than that. I did something on Kamino before my reconditioning and I left behind a datachip with information I should only access as a last resort. I need to know that my shields will hold long enough to protect the information.”

“Have you looked at it yet?”

“Not yet but I need to. I found something on accident…” they wince at whatever thought has popped up in their head, “…and I need to know if it’s the same thing I found before.”

“I’ll help.” Maul holds up a hand to stall whatever Shivers is about to say next. “But you should be aware that this will hurt. If you truly wish to test your shields against the might of a Sith, I will have to try and take your mind apart and into pieces.” For the first time in his life, Maul doesn’t really want to do that. It’s a necessity, he understands that and will do it because it is. But he doesn’t want to.

It’s… an odd feeling.

“Do it.” Shivers nods as they brace themself in their chair.

Maul gives no warning as he digs into the shields, trying not to flinch at the way Shivers chokes back a scream.

…

Shivers stumbles into Fox’s darkened office covered in sweat and with a raging headache that’s pounding hard enough that tears are slipping free from Shivers’ eyes. They’d never been particularly interested in getting the same treatment Fox gets on a near-daily basis but it’s an eye-opening experience. Maybe they should knock Fox out more often if this is the bullshit he’s been hiding from Shivers.

They hit the light switch, wincing as the light pierces into their skull. Shivers groans shutting their eyes tight but all that seems to do is make it worse.

They can hear Fox groggily stirring from where he passed out on his couch. His voice slurring with sleep, as he roughly asks, “What’s the emergency?”

Shivers breathes slowly battling the nausea from the pain back. “Remember when I made you send me back to Kamino to get reconditioned?” There’s a moment of silence that spreads out between them.

Shivers almost regrets sending Maul away. The Zabrak had been insistent that he take Shivers wherever they wanted to go, so Shivers ended up back in their medbay. Then they sent Maul away because they didn’t want him to know what was on the datachips.

Not yet. Not until Shivers did and could tell Fox. Then Fox could figure out the rest of this bullshit.

“Shivers?” Fox is in front of them gripping their shoulders, holding them steady.

The tears are running down their cheeks from the pain in their head. They can barely register as Fox reaches up and gently brushes them away. "Shivers I need you to focus on me."

They focus long enough to get out, “I did that so I could investigate what the longnecks put into our heads.” Then they promptly pass out into Fox’s arms.

…

Savage sits across from Slick who sips at his beer and looks down at his cards. Savage isn’t entirely sure what card game it is that they’re playing but for some reason, he feels mocked by it.

“Go fish,” Slick takes another sip, ignoring the glare Savage is giving him.

“This would be easier if you actually explained how to play the game.” Savage growls out through his teeth. Annoyance at this clone growing by the second.

A part of him is aware of what Slick is doing. Pushing buttons until Savage snaps and proves him right about whatever theory he’s concocted in his head. It’s a familiar thing. He’s watched brothers come back from the Nightsisters like that. Testing boundaries to see what would warrant punishment.

“Which is exactly why I haven’t explained it.” Slick puts two cards down into the pile, a matching pair.

“Slick be nice!” Mouse complains from across the room, her blind eyes milky white as she turns her head in their direction. Even so, her hands still move with precision, putting back together one of the little droids that roam the halls. “Savage is kind enough to actually play with you. If you piss him off you’ll just have Jackal and Jackal cheats.”

“It’s a valid strategy!” Comes a voice from the hall as a clone passes by the room. Savage only catches the tell end of a purple mohawk to confirm that it is indeed Jackal, getting back from wherever Slick had sent him.

Slick shrugs his shoulders, “I mean if he didn’t cheat it wouldn’t be fun.”

Mouse makes a face, nose scrunched up in displeasure. “You both are so weird. Savage if you don’t want to play with him, you can help me set this little guy loose on the Senate.” She holds up the fixed little droid who lets out a series of high-pitched beeps that make Mouse startle out a laugh. “You’re absolutely right. Savage is very smart and should give up before Slick switches the game without telling him again.”

Savage sighs, tossing his cards onto the table and standing up. Not bothering to waste any more time on this. “What do I need to do.”

“Just help me get the little guy anywhere in the Senate without being seen.”

He grabs the little droid from her, frowning at it, “Why?”

She laughs and shrugs, “You never know when you’ve got to have a mess cleaned up.” Her grin is sharp, “The little guy can even take care of bloodstains.”

Ah, right. Savage had forgotten for a moment that all these people inhabit Maul’s tendencies in one way or another. It’s not like he can’t deny he feels the same. Death has never bothered him but he’s never craved it to the extent he does now. He wonders if it’s the witches’ doing or if something finally broke in his head when he held Feral by his throat and almost crushed it.

“I’ll get it done.”

“Thanks Savage! I’ll have the twins get you a treat for all your hard work later.” Mouse reaches up carefully finding one of his arms and grabs it gently to help pull herself up. Unafraid of the fact that Savage could easily reach out, grab her by her throat, and kill her easily with a single flex of his fingers. All of the clones are like that here. Unafraid.

Yet still ready to kill him if he proves himself unworthy of their trust.

The only exception is Jackal and Nexus who both avoid being alone in the same room with anyone who’s not a clone. So it’s not necessarily Savage they are afraid of. Though there is no doubt that both of them would fight him tooth and nail just as viciously as the others would.

He huffs out a soft laugh, before turning to leave. Guiding Mouse to follow him as she uses her free hand to unhook her helmet from her belt and slide it onto her head. Savage steadily ignores the way Slick is smirking down at his cards, now playing a wholly different game since Savage abandoned him. “Ask Nexus for the shift roster, that’ll give you the best times to sneak around the Senate.”

Savage hums an affirmative in response. Mouse lets go of his arm once they’ve passed the doorway and walks by his side with no difficulties.

“Thanks again, “ Mouse says, taking even perfect steps, “I’d ask Fox but he absolutely hates droids. Though he’s gotten a little bit better. Apparently, he made some deal with the mouse and other cleaning droids to just ignore each other’s existence. It’s kind of funny cause most of the droids actually like Fox.”

“They like someone who hates them?” Savage asks dryly.

Mouse shrugs, “They get treated as either invisible or something to be kicked around by the natborns. We all know what that’s like, especially Fox. So when Fox says he ignores them, it just means he won’t verbally acknowledge their existence. He still makes sure not to step on them and gets out of their way when they’re just trying to do their job.”

Savage doesn’t really get it. But he supposes he doesn’t have to.

“Come on, Nexus should be in one of the backrooms hacking into something they shouldn’t be,” Mouse says as she leads the way.

…

Savage stares at the building before them as he sits crosslegged near the ledge of the alcove they're hidden on. He’s already gotten the droid up to one of the upper floors and now he’s here with Mouse. Safely out of sight and hidden from any prying eyes.

Mouse hesitates and Savage can feel the spike of fear before she removes her helmet. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen any of the Guard other than Slick take off their helmet outside of their safe places. He understands why. Sees the reason before him as Mouse’s white eyes stare blankly forward.

He’d asked once why she didn’t get prosthetics. She’d said that at first it was fear and now it’s just because she doesn’t want to. She’s changed permanently in a way none of her brothers can understand. She’s fine with the change, not happy but settled with it. And none of them question her decision.

“So…”

“Thorn put you up to this.” Savage narrows his eyes, looking at her as she darkens in color and scratches the back of her neck.

“Kind of? I have the most experience with… being forcibly changed and accepting the fact that I’ll never be who I was before.”

Savage tightens his hands into fists. Claws digging into his palms. “I agreed to be changed. You did not.” he spits out, “I enjoy the power I’ve been given.”

She sighs at his outburst. “That’s all mostly true but there’s still something about it that’s upsetting you.”

“It has changed me in ways I didn’t think it would…” He breaths in closing his eyes for a moment before blinking them back open, “I thought my brother was weak and that he deserved to die by my hand because of it. I wanted to kill him.” His palms begin to bleed. “I nearly did.”

“And now you’re avoiding him.” She nods her head like she understands. A part of him wants to be outraged at the assumption to be angry and lash out. Mostly though, he’s too tired to care. “You know when I lost my eyes, the Senator made my patrol partner hold me down.” Mouse reaches out looking for a place to sit, and Savage reaches out an arm to meet her open hand. Letting her use him as a guide to help her to the edge next to him. Knocking a knee against his.

“Locks can’t even be in the same room as me anymore.” Mouse pauses, taking in a breath before she continues. “She tells us that it’s because she thinks what happened is her fault. That she should have disobeyed orders, should have felt something other than emptiness as she held me down and let the fucker poor acid in my eyes.” Mouse taps her fingers against the side of her thigh armor, “She followed orders. Just like any of us would. I think what she’s really afraid of is that she’ll have to follow orders again and hurt me worse.”

Savage is quiet as Mouse continues to tap out some unheard tune in her head.

“You know what’s really sad about all this? I’ve already forgiven her. I know that it wasn’t her fault, it was someone else’s orders, and if she hadn’t done it something much worse could have happened. I just wish she’d stop avoiding me so I could tell her.”

Savage narrows his eyes and gives her an unimpressed look he knows she can’t see. “You’re not subtle.”

“Thank you!” She grins. “I’ve been told a hard smack with a blunt hammer makes people listen better.”

Savage sighs, forcing his hands open, ignoring the blood that covers his palms. “I can’t be who I was before.”

She shrugs, “You don’t have to be. You can accept the changes that have happened to you and you can grow. It’s easier though when you have someone to grow with you. Helps the person who you hurt too. Especially if they’ve already forgiven you. Both of you were victims and both of you are different because of it. It’s good to remind each other that you still love each other despite it all.”

She shoves her shoulder against his. “It doesn’t even have to be today or tomorrow. Eventually, though Feral’s gonna corner you if you don’t seek him out first.”

“Is that what you plan to do with Locks?” Savage asks dryly as he looks away from her and back to the Senate. From here he notices he can see the Chancellor’s office.

Mouse giggles, “I have a whole plan set up. She’s never going to know what hit her.”

“Probably a blunt hammer.”

“Hey!”

…

They sit there several moments longer. The sky growing lighter with each second as the silence lingers. Before Mouse breaks it once more.

“I really do miss her.”

Savage looks over and sees the tears falling down Mouse’s cheeks, he unconsciously reaches out, brushing the tears away.

“…Did you just smear dried blood on my face?”

“…That… was not my intention but…”

Mouse’s laugh is bright as she punches his shoulder, “Alright Brother, heart-to-heart is officially over. Help me back to base and I’ll help you beat Slick at his stupid card games.”

…

Maul is sitting in a chair he’s stolen from Thorn’s side of the office, his feet up on Fox’s desk while he eats whatever greasy food has been dropped into his lap. He honestly doesn’t understand the appeal but he’s not picky enough to actually deny the food. He knows every bite counts no matter how disgusting it is.

Fox is sitting across from him, food forgotten as he goes through another stack of flimsi work with a scowl.

“Out of curiosity does he just give you all his work to do for him?” It wouldn’t surprise him if Sidious pushed all his work on the poor clone. It’s not like Fox could tell him no after all.

“A good chunk of it,” Fox bites the end of his pen as he reads through whatever is in front of him, “Nothing life-changing important and nothing that I could alter to help my brothers. Everything else seems to be free game though.” He signs the bottom and moves on to the next, “Sometimes I get lucky and he forgets to vet what comes through. Like this one.” Fox taps the flimsi with a grin. “Proposal bill to cut funds to the GAR, which means the Guard would be down to half rations and even less medical supplies.”

Fox opens a drawer, pulls out a stamp, and puts a large ‘denied’ on the paper followed by the Chancellor’s signature. “Turns out because of his emergency powers Palpatine can just shut down a bill before it ever makes it to the floor of the Senate.”

Maul hums, taking another bite of his food with a wince. “I didn’t realize you were low on medical supplies.” In fact, Maul remembers it being fully stocked last time he was there.

Fox waves him off with an eye roll. “Senate doesn’t give us shit. We buy all of that with our own credits.”

“I’m also absolutely certain you don’t get paid,” Maul says with a slow sarcastic drawl. Considering how eager Slick is to get Maul involved with the Guard’s own criminal enterprise he knows exactly where all that money comes from.

Fox hums, signs another paper and, finally Maul has had enough. He sits up, feet clanging to the floor as he puts a hand over the next paper Fox is trying to look at. “Eat. You’ll upset the others if you don’t eat this horrid meal.”

“It’s really not that bad Maul.”

“Considering the way you’re avoiding it I can’t help but think you agree with me.”

Fox rolls his eyes, picks up his fork, and takes a large bite of food humming in satisfaction. “I was wrong. This is much better than not that bad.”

“You all disgust me.”

…

“Oh, It almost slipped my mind, but Feral mentioned you picked up a new oddly shaped clone trooper.”

“Maul.” Fox’s tone is a warning.

“Very Togruta shaped in fact.” Maul takes a sip of his drink, savoring the taste of the wine.

“Leave it.”

“In fact, just the other day Thorn was laughing hysterically about it.”

“I have a knife and I’m not afraid to stab you with it.”

“Is that what you said to the Jedi when they found out you stole-” He doesn’t get to finish as Fox vaults over his desk and full body tackles him to the ground.

…

Maul has several moving pieces and yet none of them could account for the fact that one of his old master’s tools is currently sitting in his base. Sly Moore sips her tea, head tilted at just the right angle of arrogant. Next to her is Fox who thankfully looks just as annoyed as Maul feels.

“I want a place among this” she sneers, “criminal empire you are building.”

“You really came here thinking I won’t just kill you here and now?” Maul leans forward with a true air of curiosity about how someone can be so presumptuous, even as he places his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. Honestly, it would be a good opportunity. He knows Moore has had a hand in changing many a Senator’s mind to side with Sidious with her abilities. With her gone he wonders if the strings would be cut.

She sets her cup down and blinks slowly. “I think that the Marshal Commander is smart enough not to let you waste resources you will need for your future endeavors.”

Fox sighs, head in his hands as he winces like he’s suddenly in pain.

Maul snarls, eyes narrowed on Moore as he lets his power suffocate the room. “I suggest if you want to keep your head, you keep your mind from his.”

She blinks, Fox looks up to glare at her but shakes his head at Maul, “She’s fine. I’ve had a headache since this morning, it’s not her trying to probe around in my head. Besides, she’s already learned her lesson about why that’s a bad idea.”

That gets an actual reaction from Moore as her eye twitches. Maul will have to ask about that later. For now though.

“Well then. Let’s see what you can provide to my empire and maybe I can find a place for you in it.” Maul grins, even as Fox rolls his eyes in exasperation.

Moore gives him a sharp smile of her own. “How about we start with the video proof of Palpatine’s dealings with Dooku.”

…

Thire is staring down the criminal seated across from him. The poor fucker who got caught hacking into the local electronic billboards, putting up a profane amount of anti-war propaganda. Nothing directed at the clones which had been a surprise. In fact, Thire feels like this is the first criminal who hasn’t been spitting any kind of vitriol at any of the clones during and since her arrest.

But it had caused enough chaos that the Guard’s forces are currently split between redirecting traffic and protecting the Senate building from a growing number of protestors. There have been several speeder crashes, injuries but no casualties so far, and while the protestors are currently peaceful it’s only a matter of time before they turn violent.

Hopefully, by then Fox will have convinced the Senate Guard and Corsec to do their jobs. If not the Guard will take the brunt of the violence and it won’t be pretty.

The Nautolan seems calm all things considered. She has her hands clasped in front of her, head raised proudly and unafraid. She spoke calmly when they first brought her in, even though it was only to ask for her lawyer.

A lawyer that Thire has yet to contact. He thinks he can get away with not contacting them at all. After all that would leave too much of a trail behind for what he has planned for the Nautolan.

Stone had said that Maul needed a reliable hacker, completely unrelated to the Guard, and here one is. She’s even got a perfect amount of self-righteousness. If Maul spins it right he can have her eating out of the palm of his hand. Make her think that what she’ll be doing is revealing some horrible truths about the war in order to stop it.

It’s mostly the truth anyway. It’s just there are a few other reasons that no one but the Guard and Maul need to know about.

Thire can already tell that she wouldn’t need the full explanation. She’d see the truth Maul would lay out for her and take it. Run with it. Sow the chaos they need. Thire’s still pissed at the harm she’s unintentionally caused the Guard but he’ll be nice just this once and tell Maul to give her a good enough paycheck as a bonus.

She’ll be a good fit for Maul’s crew. And if she’s not? Well, it’s no skin off his nose if she needs to disappear one day.

Thire grins with enough teeth that she shifts uncomfortably. “Someone’s paid your bail. So we’ll be releasing you with restrictions. Don’t try to leave the planet.” He shuffles some of his paperwork before leaning forward toward her with a menacing promise, “We’ll know if you try.”

Her black eyes open a bit wider in shock.

Thire leans back in his seat, humming to himself as he finishes signing off the paperwork. Quickly shooting a message to Stone then Maul. Stone will make her paperwork completely disappear, erasing any connection to the Guard. And Maul will be waiting just outside to snap up his shiny new hacker.

…

Maul’s plans are nearly all in place when one of his pieces is taken off the board, and a much larger problem takes its place. Fox has missed several check-ins with the other Commanders and any trackers they might have had on him have gone silent. Maul would usually be more annoyed about that than worried at this point.

It’s not the first time Fox has disappeared. He’s always returned mostly intact. Fox is a capable man, he’d fight tooth and nail to get back to his Guard no matter what state he’s in.

The problem lies in the fact that Maul was days away from enacting his plan, Fox is now missing, and Sidious has sent Maul an invitation. Wanting an audience with him. If Maul were any less paranoid he’d blow off the invitation with how close he is to ending Sidious. Not take it as the threat it is; a blaster pressed to a certain clone commander’s head.

Fox is missing and Sidious is nothing if not vicious when it comes to things he thinks belong to him. It wouldn’t have taken much for his old master to realize that Maul has been working with the Guard. Probably realized it the first time he couldn’t easily break into any of the clone’s minds. His arrogance would have made him let Maul continue on, not believing anything Maul would do could ever touch him.

Something has changed.

Maul would like to say it’s his plans working so effectively but there’s something else. A shift in the air that makes it easier to breathe, to see what the force has laid out in front of him. The madness that is always clawing at the edges of his mind is blissfully silent.

Sidious’s power is beginning to fail him.

Maul plays idly with the force suppression cuff he’d removed long ago. Spinning it on a finger as he heads up the darkened hallways of the Senate. He wonders if it was the clones who found his old Master’s well of power or if it was his brothers. A combination of both perhaps. Feral would have been sensitive enough to it that he could have led the way but he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it.

He takes the stairs, walking past the elevator despite the calling in his blood to hurry. Fox will live. He will suffer and Maul will use that suffering to strengthen his anger when he faces Sidious. But Fox will live.

Because if he doesn’t Maul will burn this entire planet down and kill every single person not affiliated with the Guard. He’ll do it slowly, by hand.

He tucks the cuff away as he nears Sidious’s unguarded office. Kicking the door open and stopping just as he enters. His focus fully on the figure who lies still on the floor. Maul almost can’t breathe at the sight. His first instinct tells him that the figure is dead but Maul can feel the last remnants of consciousness holding firm. The familiar stubbornness of it echoing in his mind.

Fox. Fox whose chest barely rises. Fox whose armor is discarded, whose face is shredded beyond recognition, and whose back is so bloodied Maul fears he’s lost too much blood.

“Do you understand yet Maul, what happens when you disappoint me?” His old master stands over Fox’s prone form, his eyes glowing that familiar putrid yellow. “I’d thought you’d learned the lesson long ago but you do always exceed my expectations in idiocy.”

Maul huffs out a broken laugh, “I always did learn the best from my mistakes didn’t I?” He prowls to the side of the ornately decorated office. Not daring to go closer in case his old master took Maul’s movements as a threat. “Last time I came here and fought you by myself, you left me discarded with the trash of this planet.”

“A mistake on my part,” Sidious gives a faint smile and acknowledging nod, “I should have torn you fully apart but what can I say? This old man had such high hopes that you’d learn your place.”

“I have learned.” Maul forces his gaze away from Sidious, away from where Fox lies so still on the carpet. His blood is sinking into it, darkening the bright red to a nearly black color. Instead, Maul focuses on the streets of Coruscant outside the window. “Of course, none of what I’ve learned is anything you would have wanted me to.”

“And what is it that you’ve learned my old apprentice?” Sidious’s words are all teeth behind his pleasant smile. He thinks that Maul is here for a fight and Maul won’t deny that he wants to rip the bastard’s throat out. Sink his teeth in and let the blood fill his mouth.

It would be so easy to give into the hatred, the anger, the fear. It wouldn’t be the overwhelming calling it has been for the entire time he’s been on Coruscant. It would be his own pure power. But that’s not why he’s here. That’s not his plan. It would only give Sidious the satisfaction of getting under Maul’s skin.

“Sometimes revenge is better served by someone else’s hands.”

Sidious’s comn unit on his desk starts to frantically beep. Outside on the streets of Coruscant billboards and screens shift to a singular scene. A series of videos and information flashing across each and every screen. All the proof that Stone had given him and the video evidence Moore had provided is now on full view for every single person in the galaxy to see.

Sidious hasn’t noticed yet. Still too far back into the office, still too close to Fox. His old Master glowers at his back, and from the reflection of the glass he sees the man stretch out a hand towards the comn unit while another grips his lightsaber.

“What have you done Maul?”

Maul’s smile is filled with his teeth as he bares it at his own reflection, watching as traffic comes to a stop on the streets. As people land, get out of their speeders, and stare at what is being displayed. “I’ve done nothing.” He won’t claim this one. This was all built on Fox’s and Stone’s hard work, Maul just made sure everyone could see all the pieces put together.

After all, what’s better than watching someone’s whole world crumble down around them?

“How does it feel Sidious? To have everything you built, everything you worked for, crumple into dust?”

Sidious curses as he opens his comn. “You think this means anything?” Sidious cackles. “I still have an army at my disposal.”

“Do you?” Maul asks with an amused tone. He doesn’t know what Shivers found, only that it was important enough that the Guard broke their own rule. No GAR contact, no dragging them into this mess. Whatever it was, it was important enough that Shivers contacted every single medic they could get a hold of.

Maul hears the comn click on. “Commander CC-2224 Execute Order 66.”

There’s only the sound of static that greets them. Nexus must have cut off GAR communications.

“Tsk, tsk. It looks like the Commander isn’t taking any calls today Chancelor,” Maul mocks with glee turning to face the full fury of Sidious.

He tilts his head to the side as the comn unit is thrown at his head. It hits the glass just behind him, shattering it fully. Sidious lights his lightsaber, casting the room into shades of red in the darkness. He steps closer to Maul, face twisted in anger.

Maul leaves his own lightsaber on his hip, giving Palpatine a bored look, “What’s wrong Master? Have I not exceeded your expectations? After all, I’ve destroyed you without laying a single finger on you.”

“You don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to Maul? That you’ve been meddling in the Senate for the sake of the clones? You’ve lost your purpose and chose to help the things that I’ve made to die and serve.” Sidious sneers, “It seems now that all of them are a waste of credits and need to be culled.”

“I’ll wish you luck in that,” Maul laughs delightedly, “They’re all quite vicious when they want to be. You might end up dead before you even realize it.”

Sidious snarls and jumps towards Maul just as he lights his own lightsaber, blocking the attack. “I’ll start with the Guard. Make them execute each other for my own pleasure. Or maybe I should make them torture each other first?”

Maul rolls his eyes, and uses his free hand to grab Sidous’s wrist as he shoves off Palaptine’s attack with his lightsaber. Forcing his old master away from him and closer towards the window, as Maul takes a position between him and Fox. “You are so confident Master that they will listen. When I know for certain that they’ll do whatever they please if it means protecting their own.”

Sidious sneers reaching a hand out towards Maul.

His expression of confusion is almost as sweet as the sudden anger as he realizes exactly what Maul has clipped around his wrist.

Maul smiles sweetly, “So creative aren’t they? I still don’t know where they found a force suppression cuff but it is quite useful. To useful to just toss away.”

“You think that I can’t kill you, even with a small handicap like this?” Sidious laugh has an edge to it as he shakes his wrist. “Maul I didn’t think I could be more disappointed in you.”

Maul can see the glint of a rifle on the building just across from the Senate. Can feel the edge of danger in the force.

Sidious can’t. Too focused on Maul and cut off from the force. His senses dulled.

“I’m sure I can figure out a few more ways to disappoint you.”

He grins as a shot goes straight through Sidous’s head. Then Maul reaches out in the force and pushes the body through the window just before Sidious’s body begins to fall to the carpeted floors. If the shot isn’t enough the drop without force powers will be.

The Dark Lord of the Sith is dead. Maul breathes out, unsure if he really feels anything from that sudden revelation. Sidious is dead and gone.

He turns off his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt as he makes his way over to Fox’s prone body. He kneels, gathering the clone into his arms. Fox shudders at his touch, swollen eyes blinking open to hazily stare up at Maul.

“I’m thinking Isolation one should be safe enough for you to recover in,” Maul jokes at this odd paradox of how they first met.

Fox’s laugh is rough, cut off by small hiccups as tears slide through his bloodied cheeks. Maul rests his forehead against Fox’s, readjusting Fox so he can wipe away the tears. “He’s dead, Fox. You’re safe now.”

“He better fucking be.” Fox rasps out. Hand weakly gripping Maul’s tunic like it’s a lifeline.

Maul gets an arm under Fox’s legs, stands, and carries him off, stepping over the mouse droids that rush into the room. He doesn’t see Savage as he slips free from the shadows, but he knows his brother gathers Fox’s discarded armor.

Maul’s still not sure what to feel. If he should feel satisfaction that his revenge has succeded or anger that his plan relied on him not striking the final blow.

He almost feels hollow. Not in an empty way but in a way that there’s nothing further to do. He can finally rest once he’s made sure Fox survives.

They are all safe.

He is safe.

It’s all he needs right now.

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