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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter Eleven - The Dar'Aliit (Sneak Peek)

20 BBY Coruscant, Lower Level

Zenden’s Droid Den, Scrapyard and Spares. Catchy name, if not a little lengthy. Zenden himself is a hulking spacer, half human and I think possibly half Zabarack. No horns, but his shaven head is a reddish tan. He’s muscled thick, dressed in a modest flight suit and waits for us outside the humble shop.

Us meaning me. The rest of my escort as General Nidor so tactfully referred to them, is lost somewhere in traffic. I haven’t bought myself much time, but it’s enough to prove I don’t need dead weight.

I enter the shop alone. We were given clear instructions to blend in, but I can tell by the pointed look Zenden himself is giving me, nothing about my face is blending in. I’m a clone plain and simple. Not many people have seen us without helmets, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know what lies underneath. Carbon copies, one after another.

The plainclothes doesn’t hide anything about my identity.

“Here about a droid?” Zenden lumbers forward. “Got your request.”

“Yes,” I cross my arms over my chest. “Is it here?”

“Well I’ve got a lot of that model, but your request said something with…grey markings?”

I nod.

Zenden side eyes me as he walks toward the crate I assume holds the captive droid. Why do we rely on those things anyway? It’s an R3 model according to intel. I know the information it holds is important, but droids are easy to lose, and easy to destroy. The Republic would be better off without them trundling all over the place getting into trouble like this.

“Say, what’s a republic clone want with an R3 droid with such specific markings? He special or something?”

“Need a replacement,” I say bluntly. “Wanted something that looked familiar.”

Zenden laughs. “That so?” He mulls it over, his hands lingering at his sides. Finally he squats down and opens up the crate. I half expected to see a bomb, maybe an IG-88 coiled up inside, or worse a BX.

It’s just a grey painted droid. R3, exactly like the model. In fact it is the droid I’m looking for.

Zenden turns and there’s the faintest click of a safety coming off. I look up into the business end of a holdout blaster.

“I know when I’m looking at something suspicious,” Zenden says, his brow furrowed dangerously over his keen eyes. “And you’re mighty suspicious, clone.”

I stare cooly at the blaster. “I came to buy a droid. What’s wrong with that?”

“A man wanting a replacement droid doesn’t care what it looks like, you can paint ‘em any color. Something tells me this droid is worth more than scrap. So why him?”

I can feel the eyes on the back of my neck. The commlink in my ear pings. They’ve caught up.

“Good in there, Kian?”

I look up at Zenden. “Fine,” I say. I hope my tone warns them off. Zendin lifts a brow, though, expecting me to continue.

He’s not the only one armed. The commlink pings again.

“We’re parked just outside. We have the place surrounded and we can move in at any time.”

I put my hand to the back of my hip and hope they can see it. I do not need help.

Forgot to post this yesterday, so sorry for the late update! Next preview coming 5/8!

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NOTE: Since thesse came out day of the chapter being posted they're much shorter, but full versions of both chapters will be coming soon!

#star wars #clone trooper oc #fanfic #dar'aliit fanfic #clone wars #romance #reblog is appreciated #read on wattpad #chiss #kian and myren #winterfang #imperial #jedi oc #action #star wars fluff #sneak preview #revenge of the 5th #star wars week

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the-baddest-of-batches · 10 months

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Take a Breath. 2023.

Shall we just say it's been a hectic few sessions? I mean, we've only ended up in another dimension, gotten ourselves attacked by shadow monsters oh and the BEST part, met a lunatic who doesn't talk sense.

Help us.

#the dog is fine though #six the strill #strill #star wars #clone trooper oc #fanart #kian and myren #cute #sleepy #my artwork #artblr #reblog is appreciated

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Homecoming. 2023.

Just a fun piece playing around with figures. Feeling rather proud of the details. And as always, love these two (don't mind the blood...). 💕

#star wars #clone trooper oc #art #my artwork #kian and myren #cw bl00d #is that angst on my good star wars blog?#i did an angstier version but only gonna share if people want to see it

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Quick Nap. 2023.

Let's be honest, this wasn't a quick nap in the least. They crashed, hard. Anyway, yw, this took me 6 hours and I'm PROUD AS HECK of it.

#im proud of this one #star wars #clone trooper oc #kian and myren #my artwork #clone trooper art #cute #winterfang art #dnd character

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Come back to me. 2023.

An older piece today. ❤️

#star wars #clone trooper oc #fanfic #star wars fandom #art #kian and myren #chiss #my artwork

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Sneak Peek Dar'Aliit: Chapter 2 - The Promises We Break

“I’m going to skin that chakkar alive!” I groan and shove myself onto my elbows. The doctor—Palpatine—turns immediately from his work and hurries across the medbay floor to stop me before I can get up.

I scowl at him.

“Commander, you should not be up,” his face is tight. “You only just got out of bacta treatment and your injuries…” I can feel his eyes trailing to my scarred up arms and chest.

I ignore him and put my feet on the floor anyway. “Forget it.” I’m angry. I’ve been angry for days now, but to unconscious to do anything about it. But I’m not unconscious anymore. Days of bacta treatment and I feel fine. Fine enough to skin a man alive. Specifically Jay, that traitor.

My fist clenches at the very memory of his smirk before he lobbed the first grenade and then my vision flashes to a blank. I blink however, and scan the room, distracted by another though. Myren.

I catch sight of her buttoning up her shirt. She’s sitting over by the other medbay bed and looks, in all honesty, better than me. Even her injuries from the past week have healed.

Exhaling, I am thankful for that. I promised to keep her safe after all.

Myren turns to me and I can feel the heat in my face as I look down. I turn it into a grimace and try to shoulder off Palpatine who stubbornly remains, insisting silently that I do not try to leave.

It’s Myren, though, that rounds the corner and meets me with her calm stare. Her gaze flickers down, and up, and meets my eyes.

“You should lay down, Commander,” she says. “You’re still healing.”

I open my mouth but I know better than to argue. Myren of all the people here knows more about me than anyone. And refusing will only get me blackmailed later.

Defeated, I slink back to the bed and sit down. Palpatine smirks.

“Clones,” he mutters and moves off.

With a roll of my eyes, I lean back. I am sore. But what’s truly sore is my ego, and my pride, and my sense of safety. Jay was one of us. I allowed him into the Winterfang team and like a di’kut it nearly got us all killed.

Myren walks up and sits on the edge of the bed. She stares off into space and I can see that she’s lost faith too. She hugs her elbows tighter to her sides than she ever has before. I lean forward and put my hand on her shoulder.

Myran blinks and looks back. “No getting up,” she insits, and sighs.

“I’m not,” I argue, frowning stiffly, but I do sit cross legged behind her and let my hand rest against her shoulder. “I’ll catch him,” I whisper. “Don’t worry I won’t let Jay—”

“Jay’s dead,” Myren says blank. “Rho took him down with a rocket. The Doctor informed me.”

“What?” I echo and look around. There’s still blast scorches on the floor from the scuffle and the door to the holding cell is damaged, but closed. I lift my hand from Myren’s shoulder and rub the side of my head. How much did I forget? I was close to the blast.

“You were unconscious,” Myren says, putting my mind at ease. “You…saved my life.”

“That’s my job.”

“Thank you.” Myren catches my eye. She smiles and I can see her relax, only slightly. She pulls her knees up onto the bed and turns around so we’re cross-legged facing each other. She sits with far better posture. I smile and slouch forward.

Myren folds her arms and I can’t help but wonder if she’s mocking me slightly, but I realize quickly she’s just afraid to be left exposed. “Commander,” her voice is quiet. “Be careful…please?”

“About?” I tilt my head. Generally, I’m careful. Okay perhaps there are times, moments, and lapses in my caution, but when it comes to Myren, I have to be careful. I cannot afford to break her or harm her in the least. And I won’t let anyone else try either.

Myren unfolds her arms. She rubs at her knuckles. “I mean on missions, and…out there,” she gestures vaguely. Myren does nothing vaguely. Her face is a deep blue.

Leaning forward, I hug her. I’m stiff, and sore, and she’s a bit hesitant, but there’s a comfort in the fact we’re equally awkward, equally afraid, and equally aware of the vulnerability we have the universe, and each other.

“I promised I’d protect you,” I whisper firmly. “I won’t break my word.”

#dar'aliit fanfic #star wars fandom #clone trooper oc #kian and myren #imperial agent #fluff #angst #ao3 fanfic #sneak preview

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the-baddest-of-batches · 10 months

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Changing of the Guard

4 BBY Naboo

"The situation is handled, sir." I duck my unhelmeted head to the Moff who waits with the others behind a line of security officers and troopers who have helped to secure the premises here on Naboo. Leia is back with her parents, and safe aboard the Venator in orbit along with several other guests. The assailants who were apprehended will be questioned later and the bodies are being dealt with. I'm sure someone will have plenty of questions for the Zann Consortium. Particularly, why they got involved.

I suspect this was some sort of bounty, or a ploy to get their hands on a bargaining chip. It wouldn't be the first time they'd pulled a stunt like this. I still remember Fondor.

The Moff sighs as he approaches me. His arms are crossed over his chest, a sign he was nervous. He likely still is. An attack of this size when we were expecting mere rebels has shaken many. Those who remain here are among the highest order, though, smoothing over the details.

"Kian," he calls out, his voice stiff to keep out the fear. "You did well securing the princess."

I shrug. "I did what I had to."

One of the black armored troopers wanders toward me. Removing his helmet, I find myself face to face with Headshot again.

"Kian's good at being a leader, even if he won't say it," Headshot comments. "Permission to brag about you, sir?"

I glare at him. "Just say what you're going to say and get back to work."

Headshot puts a hand on my shoulder. "I wanted to say," he looks at the Moff, "you picked a good man."

I avoid his stare and look at the Moff. Headshot pulls back and frowns. "And an anti social one at that."

I'm glad to see you too. I've been thinking about it since we met in the ballroom, but I know if I say it to Headshot's face, though, it'll just reopen the wound. I turn to the Moff and try not to notice Headshots lingering stare before he wanders back to work.

"Sir, how's the situation here?" I keep my voice stoic.

"It's handled," the Moff says firmly. "But–" he glances to his right. I follow his gaze and notice the blue skinned Admiral from the party is watching me from amid the crowd of ranking officers. He turns his head, speaking in words I cannot hear. I recognize the sharp hawk-faced Moff however: Tarkin.

After their secret exchange, they both break from position and stride toward me and Moff Sharn. Sharn stiffens as Tarkin's eyes lock on us both and do not leave. The man is a predator. I've seen him a few times. Enough to know I'd rather not join the gladiator match that is politics with him.

It's not Tarkin that speaks, however. The admiral beside him, whose race I have to say I'm unfamiliar with, he broaches the conversation first. "Have you presented my proposition yet, Moff?"

Tarkin raises a single eyebrow, and that is all the question he needs to provide.

"No." Moff Sharn looks at me. "Kian, we must speak somewhere private."

"Sir, this building is on lockdown. We are still—"

"We can speak in the Queen's private throne room," the Admiral cuts in. "It is vacant, and well within the safe areas."

"Yessir." I keep my head up.

The Admiral nods to Moff Sharn, dismissing him. "We shall handle this."

The Admiral breaks away, followed by Tarkin, and Sharn nods for me to follow. I obey, only because I don't know what sort of trouble I've gotten myself into now.

I don't think I defied any direct orders.

The two escort me into a small ante-chamber for a smaller, more private throne room. I close the door behind myself and stick my helmet on my hip. My hand lingers by my blaster, should further threat appear.

Moff Tarkin sighs with an expression that one can only describe as disappointment. "I always expect Sharn to have spoken up, and he never does. Thrawn, please handle this."

"Sharn always preferred waiting. It's his weakness."

"Sirs?" I look between them. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Officer Kian, or shall I say, Lieutenant," the blue skinned man, Admiral Thrawn, turns with hands folded firmly behind his back. He paces quietly, yet deliberately across the room so that he is able to look down at me. "I proposed to Moff Sharn a promotion. Yours."

"Mine?"

"Yes, trooper. You see, I've had the chance to inspect your documents. The Admiral Rent you worked under in your early days highly recommends your skills, and after tonight, it's clear his recommendation was right."

"Sir, I work in training rookies. I simply—"

"Listen to him." Tarkin instructs.

I nod firmly.

"I have proposed an operation I shall for now, refrain from naming. But it stems from an agency you are familiar with, the ISB. You are up as one of the candidates."

"I don't work on teams."

"I have read your records."

I look down at my boots. "Sir, I'm quite content where I am."

"Don't lie," Moff Tarkin scoffs. "You're a clone. You and your brothers were made for one purpose, and one purpose alone."

"What did you think you would do when the war ended?" Thrawn asked. "What were your...aspirations, Lieutenant?"

Aspirations? I had some, once. I don't really remember them. They're more of a fleeting dream from a past I've left behind. I don't need aspirations.

"Sir, I live to fight and die for the peace of the universe," I mutter.

"Then why do you waste away training soldiers?"

"Because—" I have no other answer. I can only look in Thrawn's deep red eyes and know that his question is purely rhetorical.

I'm afraid to lose someone else.

Thrawn nods. "Think about it, Lieutenant. I shall have the analyst I've selected for the team reach out. I'm sure you've had an exhausting night." He breaks his gaze and exits the room.

Tarkin alone remains. The Moff's aura is like that of a nexu, ready to pounce. He'd eat me alive, and the universe too if someone bigger than him weren't holding the leash. His gaze bores into me. "Don't waste your talents. You are a good man, and a better soldier." Tarkin raises his chin and looks down on me, "And without your leadership tonight, someone well may well have died."

My jaw clenches.

Tarkin turns. "Think on that, soldier."

4 BBY Aboard the Malevolent

The door slides open. Moff Sharn instructed me to meet someone in the debriefing room, but it's been almost an hour. I look up anyway, trying to keep the boredom out of my eyes as a young woman enters. She's like a spitting female image of Thrawn, except I think her skin might be a darker blue. Her eyes have the same piercing red.

I stand up straighter.

"Forgive me," her eyes are on her datapad. "Several of the files I'm supposed to be presenting you with were not submitted in a timely manner," she looks up.

"Are you the Lieutenant?"

"Yes ma'am. I take it you're Myren? The Moff said you're here on behalf of the Admiral."

She bobs her head firmly. "Correct.."

"So you're the second round of convincing?" I cross my arms over my chest.

Myren merely casts the information on her datapad to the holo table. "I've sent you several dossiers, Lieutenant. These will be the pool of candidates for your team. They are the best of the best."

"Are they now?"

"I hand picked them myself. My dossier is among them, if you are so inclined as to doubt."

"I see."

Myren looks up. Faces clutter up the holographic display. "Many of these men and women come highly recommended already, but I sifted through their data to see who could be compatible with someone like...you."

I can't tell if she's complimenting me, or pointing out the obvious insult. I just stare at the data. "I see a few familiar faces."

"There are also bounty hunters, criminals on good behavior, I trust you'll pick the ones whom you find fit."

"Wait, I haven't agreed to anything yet."

Myren nods. "I know. I simply want you to read up on these people. This will be your team if you so choose."

"And if I don't choose?"

"Then someone else will step up." Myren sets down the datapad. "But I've read your files too, Lieutenant. If you ask me, you're more than qualified and refusing to acknowledge it will not keep you safe."

I look down at my hands. Everywhere I go, death follows. Maybe that's my fault. Maybe it's a hazard of the job.

But if I stand idly by, death will go on following. Do not make sacrifices in vain. Do not leave another generation of children to pick up our burdens.

Nyo sacrificed himself for me. Mer'en taught me what it was like to be strong in the face of death. And Aftermath told me that when all else fails, take your anger out on something and make the universe a far less dangerous place.

Among the faces before me there is not even one that looks like mine. But these people have families, and brothers, and sisters. They have hopes and dreams, and I cannot in my right mind lead them into death.

"Give me...a little more time," I say.

Myren nods and her expression softens into a look I would've hated once. But Myren doesn't pity me, she sympathizes. She understands, and I dare say, she's angry that I don't.

Myren picks up her datapad with a small pursed frown and turns. "Take as much time as you need."

4 BBY The Director's Office

"Welcome." The director, a man I've never met before, waits as I and several others are ushered into his office. It is something of a debriefing room at the moment.

Myren's face catches my eye as she stands by, waiting on us. She's in a white ISB uniform, but I know from the paperwork I had to sign, she's one of ours.

I myself offer the Director only a casual salute. Call it habit. I can't really bring myself to muster respect where none is yet owed. I look at the others, though. This is the first time they've all been in the same room together. I know who I selected at the end of the year, but the paperwork took months.

Sometimes I still can't believe this is the decision I made. We don't look like we fit together at all.

We have Zur, the Zabrak bounty hunter, a former prisoner, who was suggested for his particular skill sets in martial arts. Dross, a man I assume will become shortly insufferable, is academy trained and highly recommended. R3, that trusty old unit I haven't seen in years, he was an obvious choice. And Jay, a last minute stand in. I did not initially ask for him, but the man I requested was found dead.

Some allowances had to be made.

This is my team now. This is Winterfang.

"Captain Kian," the Director calls out. He spreads his hands across his desk. "Thank you for coming, and agreeing to our little operation. And to you all," One by one, the Director looks at each face. "From this day forward, you shall all be operatives of Winterfang. You shall not speak this name unless authorized. We are a secret arm of the Empire, and you were all made aware when you were read in."

"Yessir," the whole group choruses the firm response.

I nod.

"This is your Captain, Kian," the director gestures to me. "Myren here will serve as your main analyst. You shall be provided whatever you need, with discretion."

I glance at Myren.

She glances back. I think she smiles.

The director goes on. "You will be allowed to recruit, the details of which Myren will handle as this is an operation we plan to expand in time, but for now, we must move quickly into business. Your first mission has already been arranged, and should you survive, you shall be firmly instated as true Winterfang operatives."

I scan the room. Every face here is hardened with a past. We've all left something behind.

We were all once children. Children asked to fight a war we didn't understand. A war we couldn't comprehend. And now we stand here men and women. We've seen horrors. Faced death. We have nothing left to lose. For that, we will fight the war here and now. So that no child must ever lose what we lost.

I grip my helmet firm at my side. I am proud, and I know they would be too. This is only a step. A never-ending march. But we do it together, as a team.

We were children and they sent us to die. But we survived.

The End

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#star wars #clone trooper oc #complete #read on wattpad #ao3 fic #fic writer #final chapter #dar'aliit fanfic #grand admiral thrawn #princess leia #tw ptsd #kian and myren #reblog is appreciated

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