#literally the first time i draw clone trooper armour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fionajames · 7 months

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my OCs

Sorry this took so long guys! It was long to type out and I also have a good excuse: I was at basketball and cut my big-toe-nail in half horizontally so had to clean and bandage and what not.

My puppy says hi, btw! (She sat on my lap as I typed this. She was for once not hyper and when she's like that I cuddle her as close as possible.)

@skellymom you asked to be tagged when I posted this so here you go! :D

I rlly hope y'all like this: I've had these guys for a while but never typed up all this stuff.

ALSO IF SOMEONE WANTS TO DRAW THESE GUYS (IDK WHY YOU WOULD CAUSE IM LIKE, IDK, I JUST DONT THINK PEOPLE CARE ABOUT ME AND MY STUFF) THEN GO AHEAD I WOULD LITERALLY CRY OF APPRECIATION

Enjoy!

Request things please!!!

STUFF BELOW THE CUT ITS JUST SUPER LONG!!!!!

OCs included:

Dhole

Vector

Menace

Dice

Bloodshot

Mit

Vick

Meerrt

Dhole (CT-8019)

Dhole is a member of the Coruscant Guard and has curly black hair with the ends dyed the same red as the red armour. His helmet is designed with striking resemblance to both Wolffe and Fox’s.

He has the trademark tan skin as the rest of the clones as well as dark brown eyes and two obvious scars; one on his chest and the other covering his entire left arm.

Dhole is a literal ray of sunshine and when he was a cadet, he constantly followed Wolffe and Fox around - which gave him his name. My idea is that Dholes do exist in Star Wars but they are rare and only live on one planet. Dholes look like a combination of a fox and wolf.

Everyone in the Coruscant Guard is super protective of Dhole because he’s so sweet and literally cheers up everyone. The 104th thought Wolffe was like the scariest person ever and wasn’t soft to anyone until one day they got back from a mission and their Commander was barrelled over by an energetic ray of sunshine and the entire 104th gasped when Wolffe smiled. Their reaction was priceless.

Dhole makes friends with basically everyone, even Senators he’s in charge of watching over. One time, he befriended and saved Bail Organa who then told Fox if Fox didn’t promote Dhole, Bail would join the Separatists. Fox gladly gave Dhole the rank of ARC Trooper.

Dhole befriended Ahsoka once and when he heard about how Tarkin was being sexist and racist he grabbed his pistols to go kill him without a moments hesitation. It took Fox, Thorn and Vector holding him back to stop him.

He did the same thing when he heard Palpatine denying Fox time off work, but overall loves his job. Dhole is very sweet, but also protective in a strange way. He won’t hesitate to hurt/kill someone if they’ve hurt his friends or brothers and most likely will get away with whatever he’s done.

He’s the sunshine of the Coruscant Guard and you hurt him, you die.

Vector (CT-8124)

Vector is a member of the Coruscant Guard and best buds with Dhole. They are quite similar as they are both kind and sweet except Vector is a lot shier. Vector got his name from a little boy he saved as a shiny. The boy asked what his name was and Vector had to explain he didn’t have a name. The boy almost cried before telling Vector that they could share a name - and dubbed him Vector as that was also the boy’s name.

He is the definition of ‘the poet’ from ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos. His smart and quiet, but when he speaks up, everyone listens. No one but Dhole really knows his opinion on his work - but he really isn’t bothered by it. The only thing Vector hates doing is paperwork because whilst he’s the best out of the Guard in getting it done fast and well, he finds it boring and time-consuming.

Vector has the same tan skin as the rest of the clones and honey gold eyes. He has brown hair that's dyed blonde on the ends. He has a scar that goes from his right eye, over his nose and then down to the base of his neck. He got the scar from a piece of shrapnel during the First Battle of Geonosis - as all clones (apart from those still on Kamino) participated in the battle.

Everyone in the Guard loves Vector - although in a different way to the way they adore Dhole - and it’s well-known that wherever Dhole is, Vector will be hiding behind him quietly in the shadows.

Vector’s helmet is the same as the regular Corrie helmet except he has a little sun emblem on the forehead - whether it's a nod to Dhole’s sunny nature or not, no one really knows.

Because Vector is so quiet and introverted, he mostly just hangs around with Dhole - and their inseparable - but he also loves Cody, as his Ori’vod respects his silence and is the only other person to figure out a type of communication Vector is okay with.

Menace (CT-7874)

Menace is like Hardcase combined with Fives as a Coruscant Guard member. He’s caff addicted because he loves the energy hit and would probs do drugs if Fox didn’t yell at him so much every time he thought out-loud what it would be like to take them. He’s done deathsticks several times but isn’t addicted cause he’s smart in how he takes them.

Menace got his name because that's what he is - a menace. He’s moody and smart, daring and proud but overall he causes enough chaos that he should be a 501st trooper. He’s best friends with Dice and Bloodshot, and is the bad influence of everyone. He’s got the classic look of a clone trooper except dark brown hair instead of black hair. Menace has a scar covering his left eyebrow from being attacked by an assassin who was trying to kill a senator. Although Menace is chaotic and stupid and fun, he’s devoted to his work and does work very well. He’s kind of like the Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine Nine) of the Coruscant Guard. Menace is the ‘soldier’ again from ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos. He’s strong and dedicated, and too determined to be knocked down.

Him, Hardcase and Fives get along like a house on fire and have collectively taken days of sleep from Rex and Fox. His helmet is the classic Corrie helmet although the top left side is completely painted black with licking ginger flames around it - to symbolise Menace’s first helmet which got destroyed in a bombing.

Dice (CT-6346)

Dice has short black hair, tan skin and brown eyes - like the classic clone look. He’s never bothered to change his hair or anything. He has a burn scar that covers his right eye and eyebrow, and a torso scar from his left ankle all the way up his leg and back that ends at his collarbone. Dice is also a member of the Coruscant Guard. He’s the definition of the moon personality - very private about his anxieties and such.

Captain Rex met Dice when he was a shiny and gave him his name upon witnessing the clone bargain his way out of a situation. Dice is a legend and board/card games and is incredibly smart. When dealing with a particularly hard case, Fox always turns to Dice for help. He’s smart, thoughtful and calculating, but he’s a really nice person too. He’s not introverted or extroverted and is just happy to help. Dice loves his work because he loves the challenges different cases provide and finds them interesting to explore.

Dice has the classic Corrie clone trooper helmet except a red dice simple in the middle of the forehead.

Whilst Dice is best friends with Menace and Bloodshot, he’s really close with Rex because he’s the one who gave him his name. Dice can be a little chaotic but he’s usually pretty chill - but always chill with Rex. They get along so well because Rex seems him as a combination of Fives and Echo - smart, funny, kind and everything else.

Bloodshot (CT-3496)

Bloodshot is the ‘king’ of ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos, and he’s the most serious of the group. He and Fox get along like a house on fire because their both so tired of the Guard’s antics. He’s a sweet and kind guy and quiet but not in a shy way. Quiet in a menacing way.

Bloodshot has short light brown hair, tan skin and brown eyes, and he’s extremely fit. He has a going from his stomach up his chest, over his neck that hooks around his right ear. He got the scar when he was attacked by an assassin - crazy similar to Menace. He’s dedicated to his work because its his work and no one really knows his other thoughts on the topic.

Bloodshot’s helmet is a regular Corrie helmet with splotches of red over the eyes and a red ‘blood-drop’ on the forehead.

Bloodshot got his name because he drinks a lot of caff - religiously, like man must drink caff - and that causes his eyes to go bloodshot quite a lot. He’s humble about how talented he is as a fighter and extremely quick-witted. When Bloodshot yells ‘Shut up!’ everyone freezes. He’s not the eagerest to do things, but isn’t lazy in the slightest.

If someone is upset you can count on Bloodshot and Dhole going to hunt down and kill whoever hurt their Vod.

No one really understands why Menace, Dice and Bloodshot are so close but they click in a way that you can tell means their platonic soulmates and the truest of brothers.

Bloodshot managed to gain Plo Koon’s love when he rescued a stray-runaway-Youngling and returned her to the Kel Dor. He’s the Ori’vod of the group and is the only possible (apart from Dhole) who can convince Fox to sleep, and takes his responsibility with pride. Although, he probably needs sleep just as much as the Commander.

Xi (CT-5113)

Xi is a member of the 501st and has wavy black hair that falls to just below his ears, brown eyes, tan skin and a small Republic symbol tattooed on his nose. He also has a scar from the tip of his middle finger on his right hand that travels up to his elbow that he got from a crash-landing.

Xi is sort of a combination between the soldier and king from (yet again) ‘soldier, poet, king’ by the oh hellos. He’s funny and kind yet courageous and loyal. Rex is extremely proud of Xi because he’s done many things that have rightfully earned him his ARC Trooper status. Although many people don’t believe it at first, Xi is a strangely good mechanic - and is often the one to fix things in time-ticking situations.

He’s best friends with Mit and is absolutely obsessed with music. Like, most listen to music.

Other than Rex and Mit, Xi gets on with Jesse and Fives amazingly as they share several similar personality traits. They once had a bit too much to drink and got lost on Coruscant but that's a story for another time.

Ahsoka and Xi also get along because Xi is always by her side - no matter what. He would be crushed if anything happened to her. Like his Padawan, Anakin and Xi are friends because of their loyalty, but also love for mechanics. It’s not rare to find them ranting about mechanics together.

Xi’s helmet is similar to Fives except he has painted a blue ‘scar’ over the right eye to match Anakin’s and the left half of the face has Ahsoka’s face markings except in blue. There are two ‘teardrops’ underneath the right eye - which Tup later copied.

Xi is slightly more extroverted then he is introverted but he hides his emotions a lot because he fears that he is being weak and that others have bigger problems than him so he shouldn’t complain. One time, he bottled his emotions up for so long he eventually shattered and Rex spent hours with him calming him down.

Mit (CT-5114)

Mit has a black buzzcut, tan skin and gold eyes with several small scars but none extremely big or noticeable. He’s a member of the 501st and was promoted to ARC Trooper at the same time as Xi for an amazing mission they completed all by themselves. His helmet is the ARC Trooper helmet - like Fives’ - but he has the visor outlined in blue - like Rex’s - and two matching teardrops to Xi’s under the right eye. He has a star personality as he is fun to be around and focuses on enjoying life. Mit’s funny, soft, gentle and brave and contrasts Xi in several ways. Mit is more of a rules-follower than Xi and gets along with Echo well because of it. He and Kix also get along for reasons they don’t really understand.

Mit’s a bit more introverted than extroverted, which contrasts well with Xi, who’s the opposite. Whilst Xi bottles up his emotions, Mit is a lot calmer than that, and very in control of his negative emotions. If he really needs to vent, he will go to Xi or Kix.

Mit really loves reading, and will basically read anything he can get his hands on. It’s not rare to find him dangling from his bed with a datapad scrolling through a book too deeply fixated to hear anything anyone else is saying.

Because he loves to read so much, Mit is the resident clone-translator, and together he and Obi-Wan have translated many things for the others. Sometimes, the two will have conversations in front of others in a different language just to annoy them, and that's where their friendship formed. Mit once saved a small Nautolan boy who only spoke Nautila and managed to get him home. Whilst Xi is good at mechanics, Mit is smart in languages and random knowledge, and the pair use those skills to help the 501st get out of a lot of difficult situations.

Vick (CT-2323)

Vick has neatly cut black hair, tan skin and brown eyes - the classic clone look, just like Dice. He has three triangular scars on his right arm and a scar covering his stomach that he earned when he was attacked by a beast during a mission. He’s a member of the 212th. Vick is the soul/heart as he is very upfront with his beliefs and heart-strong instead of head-strong. He’s sarcastic, brave and kind with everything he does and Cody adores him for it.

Vick’s helmet is the classic 212th clone trooper helmet with two yellow triangles - points facing down - on the cheeks. He’s best friends with Meerrt as they balance each other out extremely well.

Vick is close with Cody as they share the same stupid recklessness but love for the others of their troops and their General. Obi-Wan and Vick get along very well after Vick, Cody, Meerrt and Obi-Wan once got stranded together on a mission and they all discovered Vick’s strange talent in tea-brewing. Now, when they want tea, they hunt down Vick and beg him to make them the drink.

Vick hates drugs and deathsticks but likes to drink on the occasion, as it helps numb the constant reminder of the war. Cody and him sometimes barricade themselves in the barracks and drink till they can’t remember their names in sorrow, side by side for comfort.

When the 212th were on Ryloth, Vick befriended a Twi’lek boy who he constantly denies having a crush on - but most of the 212th don’t believe him. They manage to catch up occasionally and Vick always comes back grinning.

Vick absolutely adores learning about new and different cultures - not the food, as Meerrt has asked several times, no, he loves learning about their non-food-culture. Upon going to new planets, he sticks with Obi-Wan if they don’t speak the same language and asks for translations, which the General happily does.

Meerrt (CT-2361)

Meerrt looks the same as Vick although his hair is slightly longer and scruffier. There is a burn scar covering his left ear and as a result the hair around it was singed slightly so he buzzed it and also has weaker hearing in that ear.

When Vick, Obi-Wan, Cody and him were stranded and they discovered Vick’s tea-making skills, Meerrt got burned in the crash that led to his scar.

He has the classic 212th helmet with a yellow sun emblem on the forehead - similar to Vector’s - and yellow stars on the sides.

Meerrt loves astronomy deeply and endlessly, and spends hours researching it. He has a sun personality meaning he’s slightly more extroverted and bubbly, all smiles for days. He’s encouraging, sweet and funny and the kinda guy you go to for a hug.

Meerrt gets on with Cody because he can cuddle up to the Commander and not get reprimanded or teased for it. Sometimes a clone needs sleep and affection. He also gets along well with Waxer as they both met little kids they sheltered and protected for a bit.

Meerrt met a little Togrutan boy whilst on a mission - who later turned out to be Force-sensitive and was taken to the Temple - who he immediately bonded with. Meerrt had a breakdown when they were separated and stayed gloomy for weeks.

Meerrt doesn’t really like alcohol, deathsticks or anything of the sort but juice like its water. Whenever he can, Meerrt buys as much juice as possible to keep and savour.

Meerrt is a really heavy sleeper and - like most other clones - often has night terrors. He’s mostly silent during these - unlike Vick who screams and thrashes like he’s being attacked and makes everyone pity him - but often seeks comfort from either Vick or Cody afterwards and have a cup of hot chocolate.

Meerrt’s favourite planet they’ve been to is Naboo - where he first participated in the Blue Shadow Virus mission - and he’s visited several times. He once met Padme who showed him around her planet and they built a sweet friendship because of it.

*sighs* that was VERY long and I apologise to anyone who read all of that.

Thoughts on my ocs, please share?!

If anyone wants oneshots/headcanons with these guys (or not!) please please please pleasseeeee tell me!!!!!!

Have a lovely day/night/whatever your time is!!!

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

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But it wasn’t Tarkin that caught Rex’s eye; neither was it the red guards, nor the dozens of troopers - his brothers - lined up behind them in a perpetual salute. No, behind the raised podium hung a large decorative banner. It was beet red, the freshly minted Imperial symbol printed in black aiming to deliver one single message. Yet, in the shadow of the ceremonious event; both figuratively and literally, loomed a man with unmistakably familiar features. The banner was tall enough to block out the bright sun rays spilling from the clear blue skies overhead, obscuring the man.

Rex couldn’t help but focus entirely on that man, even from a distance there was something uncanny yet recognizable about him. At the same time, he seemed a total stranger - enough so, that Rex almost willed himself into believing he had been mistaken.

Until Tarkin called the man forward, that was.

“As a final announcement, the Emperor wishes to introduce to you the very exception to the rule. Amidst the Jedi riot and their attempted treason, one man would not be swayed. One man would prevail, and remain loyal to the Emperor above all. Jedi Master Mace Windu’s attempt on the Emperor’s life was foiled by this very man, and it is the Emperor’s wishes that we accept him wholeheartedly as a sovereign and a paragon of the Imperial government. I shall allow the man to speak for himself, however. I introduce to you; Lord Vader.”

Tarkin’s voice was commanding, speaking with authority that seemed nigh impossible not to admire and marvel at. He had been born for this, born to be a military leader and perhaps a politician as well. But Rex cared little for that, instead the colour drained from his face as the man he’d been struggling to place stepped out of the shadows.

Tall - taller than Rex remembered, even - as he towered over the small crowd. Clad in black robes that seemed a malign parody of the Jedi council’s robes, his armour reminiscent of the Clone Wars, but in black with burgundy accents drawing to mind the visage of fresh blood cut right from the veins.

His hair was short, shorter even than when Rex had first met the man. It was meticulously combed back, with one single golden curl springing over his forehead as if to rebel against the subjugation of assimilation. The man’s arms were folded nonchalantly over his broad chest, a billowing black cape dancing in the wind as it rushed up from the Coruscant streets many miles below. The man took his place in front of the microphone upon the podium, a microphone that appeared comically tiny. The crowd had fallen silent, but for the occasional gasp of recognition.

As soon as the man nodded his head in affirmation, his face was projected onto every holo screen. Plastered up and down the buildings, projected on every marketing poles. It was a face Rex had seen a million times, a face he had frequently sought in the heat of battle for guidance, a face he had woken up to in the medical bay after treatment from injuries on the battlefield. A man who had saved his life more times than he could count. But instead of the friendly, encouraging blue eyes Rex had come to know - a pair of sickly, yellow irises gleamed in their place. The man's face was ashen, pale and gaunt. A fresh scar adorning his left side cheekbone. Two months since Order 66, since Rex and Ahsoka alike had perceived him dead.

Yet, there he was.

But the man atop the podium, despite any superficial likeness to the young Jedi, was not Skywalker.

Making fan art for my own fic, link to Ao3 below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582/chapters/79401946#workskin

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macabretrees · 3 years

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When his inhibitor chip malfunctions, Sinker finds himself stationed on an Imperial Star Destroyer, tasked with experimenting on captured Jedi for the purpose of researching their Force count.

His current subject: Former General Plo Koon.

tw: medical torture, ao3 version available

Pls consider reblogging!

----

Sinker comes back to himself in between the threshold of the holding cell back to the medical wing of the Star Destroyer he’s currently stationed on. It’s like the worst migraine of his life, so much so that it stills him in his tracks. With a hand braced against the smooth wall, the former clone sergeant groans deeply as the pain radiates through his temple, all the way to the back of his skull.

He crouches low, precisely aware of the bright fluorescent lights bouncing off of the pristine steel floors beneath him. It’s nauseating, and he clamps his eyes shut just to shield his eyes from the blinding rays. It does little, and the nausea blossoms in his stomach. Out of instinct, he smashes a hand to his mouth as his gut wretches, and immediately is assaulted with the taste of something putrid and acridic, seeping through the gaps of his fingers.

What...the...hell…

It’s not vomit--at least not his. And upon further inspection, he takes note of the black and yellow-ish liquid staining his white gloves, the substance extending up to the fabric of his elbow.

“Trooper, is everything alright?” Despite the question, there is little concern behind the harsh, Coruscanti accent. It sounds like General Kenobi on a bad day, and with great effort the Sergeant draws his gaze away from his hand, and to the man standing squarely above him.

He looks through crescent lids, the halo of light behind the officer agitating his growing migraine.

“Trooper, I asked if everything was alright. You are needed in the medical wing, those samples need analyzing now.” There is growing agitation in the man’s voice, tight lipped tone indicating that he is on an even tighter schedule, “the junior researchers have not seen you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Still, the clone cannot speak or will himself to move.

It’s all too much. Suddenly he was a drone, a mindless trooper just following orders. Now he is Sinker.

He must have looked like a spectacle, dry heaving on the ground and avoiding the light like some sort of vampire.

“I thought your kind couldn’t get sick.” Disdain still evident, there’s a tone of curiosity in the man’s voice as he inclines forward, his blond hair and beard coming into view. He certainly isn’t a clone, but Sinker knew that already.

Even with his body and mind stolen from him for the past...what? 10 years? 15? 20? He’s been afforded bits and pieces of information, past the “initiate Order 66” past the “Good Soldiers follow orders”, Sinker has weaved a net of sparse information together.

He’s in the Empire, the Jedi are all gone, killed by him and his brothers, and he’s a medic again. That explains the liquid on his arms, but what was it? And why did it taste like that? It's non-human, that’s for certain. But why ? The Empire doesn’t employ non-humans, do they?

And certainly not Kel Dor.

Time stops for Sinker in that moment, and not even the white noise of the ship registers to him. Nor, unfortunately, the officer above him growing clearly more and more agitated with him. The substance on his arm--the blood literally on his hands--captivates his conscious. He knows this blood. He knows it very well. Has tended to it on the battlefield, has washed it from his armour after his General had thrown himself atop of him, had watched in horror as it had oozed out after the General had taken a rather nasty shot to his side.

This is Kel Dor blood on one hand. In the other--Sinker looks, and bites his tongue as he staves off the sharp wave of nausea--is the sample.

“You must be going absolutel--”

Sinker rises with the grace of a still mind-controlled clone, masking the absolute horror building in his gut as to not tip the officer in front of him off.

“Apologies sir. I had a bad reaction to a gas from one of the subjects lungs. A bit too much helium.” He lies, inclining his head forward as he excuses himself, “Won’t happen again.” He brushes past the man, previous schedule melding with his conscience.

Things begin to come back to him like building blocks. Where he is. What he’s doing--what he has been doing. It’s all coming back. But this time, he has control.

He needs to analyze the sample--brain tissue. Scan it for midichlorian counts, see if it can be liquidized and transferred to others--to humans. This will take him about three hours. Then he will take his break, eat in the mess hall, and return to the subject to collect another sample. Only today he will skip his lunch, see his subject earlier, and board the nearest ship and get the hell away from here.

He’ll get himself out. He’ll get his General out, and if he’s lucky get his brothers out too. But he doesn't know if they’ve been freed like he’s been, if they’ve gotten back to themselves, or if the Chancellor's orders are still ringing in their heads.

He doesn’t even know who’s on the ship. Who’s still in the Empire or who deserted.

The work is completed mechanically, and despite being thrown into the midst of a shit-show, his memory continued to trickle in the gaps. Every new revelation is another punch to the gut. In summary he was promoted to the head medic of the Star Destroyer, which for all intents and purposes is primarily a research vessel. Though the weaponry and guarded halls say otherwise.

Sinker was a medical sergeant during the war, often making split second decisions to save his brothers and his General, as well as starting the first encyclopedia of medical field treatment across species. While Plo was his primary General, he’d opted on missions with the 501st and had often worked his way around Commander Tano’s complicated biology. Following that, he and the others had gotten together to come up with a rather large encyclopedia of their alien Generals and Commanders. And on his offtime, Sinker studied it like a hungry dog.

The Empire had put him to work immediately, his knowledge of Force sensitives aliens used on captured Jedi.

The Empire was trying to create a new army of force sensitives, trying to see if the Force could be transplanted into individuals. Sinker was tasked with making the concoction, and led the project since the rise of the Empire.

He’s the most brilliant researcher in the Empire, but his research stands on the bodies of captured Jedi.

He’s gotten good enough so that he has his own lab, but junior nat-born researchers are stationed everywhere, wide eyed students studying his samples, asking him questions. He takes note that none are clones. And a small part of him fears he’s the only one left on the station.

Still he answers the researchers questions, comments on their work, and offers them input when he can. Anything to appear normal, to appear kept together. To steady his shaking hands and throbbing heart and aching head.

When his three hours are up, he makes a beeline to the holding cell, dismissing invites from other researchers to lunch with a smile and the typical, “You know how I feel about my work.” They laugh and call him a workaholic, and Sinker wants to cry at the irony of the situation. If all goes well, he won’t be working here.

Not anymore.

When he gets to the cell, he’s greeted by the plain white armour of two stormtroopers, inclining his head as a quick greeting before punching in the keycode.

“It’s popular in there, today.” The trooper jokes, just as he steps in, “Looks like a family reunion.”

But before Sinker can say a word, the door zips closed behind him. He’s too tired to linger on what was said for longer than necessary, though one look at the scene unfolding before him tells him he doesn’t have to.

He’s met immediately with the sound of shuffling and cursing.

“How the hell did he get him stuck on here? I don’t want to pull him off, it may hurt him.” That sounds like--

“Wolffe! At the door, it’s Sinker!” And that’s certainly Boost, quick to concern and worry as usual.

Elation is too small of a word to describe the emotions that run through him. Because before him are his brothers--Wolffe and Boost, alive in well, albeit rather agitated and flustered at being caught attempting to remove Plo from his binds.

Though the elation is short lived.

He can’t see the General, and part of him is grateful for that. But it’s only temporary, he’ll have to face his fears if he wants to undo Plo from his binds. He’ll have to face what he did to the man if he wants to save him. It’s no simple lock, and Sinker is the only one who can undo it. Not only that, but Wolffe is right, removing him may hurt him. Sinker did not create the medical bed with the intent of comfort. Plo is--was--an experiment to him, and up until now believed to be a traitor. He treated him accordingly.

“Boost, Wolffe, it’s--”

He doesn’t get the word out, as a fist immediately connects to his uncovered head.

And unlike the other two, he’s not wearing armour. Sinker staggers, but draws on his years of combat training and exercise. He may be a researcher now, but he can outfight Wolffe and Boost on any given day, armoured or not. He’s always been the superior fighter, and he’s taken a lot worse than a sneak attack from Wolffe and Boost.

It’s messy and too long, but within a minute he has Wolffe under one arm, and a knee to Boosts’s backgrounding hm in place

“You two need to stop, or they’ll hear us and we’ll never be able to get him,” he whispers, low.

“Sinker...you’re..you’re free?” Boost gasps, “How-when?”

“We’ll catch up later, but I'll need to report back to the lab in under an hour. We need to get him loose now.”

Sinker releases them, and Wolffe gasps for breath while Boost groans in pain. He’ll apologize later, but for now the General’s life is at stake. With urgency he turns to the back of the cell, where his General stands attached to an upright medical bed, bound to it with metal braces. Sinker gasps, and with every step he takes towards him fights the urge to scream and run.

The General is lacking all color, and where he was once a healthy burnt orange, he is now a mix of white and greys. The white extends to his half-lidded eyes, which are now dull and near unseeing, and absent of their protective goggles. Throughout his body are large, thick metal piercings. Used to keep the Force at bay in particularly strong, Force sensitives. Sinker had invented them himself, and remembers with great accuracy the care he took into placing them in his General’s body.

They will need to be removed when he gets him off of the station.

There are scars and bandages all over his body, burn marks and more discoloration. The newest scar is above his temple, where Sinker took the brain sample from earlier that day. Sinker isn’t even aware that the soft tips of his fingers have brushed over the scar, tracing it gently as his eyes begin to sting with tears.

It’s still raw, and the bandage is yellow with blood.

Sinker doesn’t apologize, lest he break into violent sobs there. Rather he inputs the code into the keypad, bracing himself for his General’s body as it falls forward. When he embraces the taller creature, he takes note of how thin he is, how light he is. As their General, Plo Koon had been strong and sturdy. Even with his thick robes and gowns, his strength positively radiated off of him. The General took care of himself.

Sinker had ruined him in a matter of years.

The holding cell is not a generic one. And due to his position as head researcher, Sinker has made it a point to move certain medical supplies into the cell should he need access them. He thanks the Force that he’s left a wheelchair. Even with Plo’s height, it’s easy to settle him down into the chair, and Sinker straps him to it by the arms and waist. Then Sinker takes a glance over at his vitals, displayed on the screen.

The General is sleeping, now. Or, more correctly, had passed out during the removal of his brain tissue. He’ll wake later. And he’ll wake in pain.

Sinker takes an injection from one of the trays, and winces at how large and sharp the needle is. Unfortunately there’s no getting around the General’s incredibly thick skin, and even in the Clone wars, penetrating it was an uphill battle.

Though at the sight of an injection, Wolffe is summoned to his side.

“What are you doing with that?” His former Commander speaks as he places a hand over Sinker’s, ready to fight the man again if he has to.

“It’s to keep him sleeping, Wolffe. He’ll wake up if I don’t give it to him, and he’ll be in pain.” Sinker jerks his arm away, and sticks the general with the needle. Part of Sinker is hurt...hurt that Wolffe can’t trust him. Hurt that he thinks he’d do anything to harm his General of his own accord. Hurt that he can’t understand that it’s not Sinker’s fault. That he was under control of someone or something else.

The Kel Dor makes no indication that he’s been stuck, and instead his unseeing, half lidded eyes look forward into the distance.

“We need to put his goggles on, right? Do you know where they are, Sinker?” Boosts asks as he looked around.

“Yeah, I do.” He says flatly, wondering if at all he’ll be able to justify giving his test subject goggles or any other form of comfort, “they’re in that cabinet over there.”

Wolffe wastes no time in snapping them on the General’s face. All the while Sinker gets what medical supplies he can from the cell, and makes a note to collect more in the lab. Where there going will likely not be a medical facility, and if they’re going to keep Plo alive, they’ll have to make do with what they have.

“We’ll need to stop by the lab.” Sinker says aloud, “I just need a few more things and we can get out of here, assuming we make it to the platform without being caught or stopped with a test subject.”

Now it’s Wolffe’s turn to sound guilty, and a dark blush colors his face, “That..shouldn’t be a problem?”

“Why? Buddy buddy with the General or something?”

“I am the General, Sinker.” He admits, raising a hand when Sinker makes to ask more, “It’s a long story. The Empire promoted those of us who were good on the battlefield to Generals, me included. Do what you need to do, and I’ll keep the other officers off of your tail until we’re ready to leave. But make it quick, because I have to check in with the navy in less than an hour. And If any of these brown nosers tip the Empire off that Plo’s missing, there’ll be an all out mutiny.”

“Nat-borns aren’t as loyal as we were,” Boost fills in, tapping his fingers on his biceps, “and aren’t happy about having to listen to a clone. They’ve been trying to take Wolffe down since he first got promoted.”

“You can tell them I gave the order to move him to the lab for another procedure. You take it from there--Boost, we need to get out. Get ready.” Wolffe commands, “I’ll meet you in landing bay seven in thirty minutes. Do not be late.”

Wolffe leaves with Boost in tail, leaving Sinker alone with more questions than answers.

Below him, General Plo is limp. Though his pulse is steady and his heart beating fast. He’s alive. He’s safe. Wolffe is alive, Boost is alive, safe. They’re all safe.

With luck, they can keep it that way.

Check it out here on ao3!

#sergeant sinker #commander wolffe #plo koon #boost #tcw

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