look I know the chips are a retcon to make the tv shows etc more child friendly and also to get around the whole 'all these characters we hope you like (so we can sell merch)? guess what, they're secretly plotting to kill Our Heros :D!' thing, but on an in-universe level.
how the fuck do the chips work. what the fuck. I'm not even talking about how they make 3m+ people all suddenly mind controlled zombie murder-bots, I mean on a purely mechanically level, how the fuck do they work. what in the goddamn fuck kind of latency prevention do they have.
Skeevy sheevy calls Cody*, who is on the ass end of the fucking galaxy, and is like 'execute genocide.exe, toodles'. Cody then, presumably, somehow immediately transmits genocide.exe to every clone around him without saying shit - so the chips presumably have a short wave blutooth sort of ping capacity, all clones are wifi-enabled all the time - and then also presumably somehow transmits the genocide.exe order to like. the rest of his command? which is like half the GAR?? fast enough that it beats, presumably, jedi to jedi communication about 'what the fuck I'm getting murdered???', aka the whole wave of death in the force thing.
Skeevilicious also (maybe?) calls other high level commanders - unclear if everyone gets the personal touch vis-à-vis names or if cody is just the Most Specialist Boy --fast enough to, again, beat the reply-all via the force that RE:Hey Rancid Vibes And Death Mostly Death. One has to assume the other commanders are also on the ass ends of the galaxy, but like, different ones, because of the whole galaxy spanning war thing.
Like the lag has to be approaching nothing. Instantaneous deployment across the entire fucking galaxy, or close enough to not really matter, plus some level of short wave chip-to-chip ping that requires no verbal component, given we see cody take the call from ol' mate skeev and then immediately successfully order the 212th to merk their general without a moment's hesitation from anyone.
what the fuck kind of magic ass tech runs the chips. forget the force, the real scifi magic is the communications capabilities in the GFFA.
*also side bar, moment of hilarity that the skeev-meister knows cody's name and uses it. Like lets be fucking real, our pal friendpatine does not think of the clones as people, but also, chances are that he's spent so fucking long pretending 'oh yes the clones need rights anakin soon as the war wraps up the terrible senate won't let them but not me I'm not like those other politicians' that it's just fucking habit at this point. Bro might not even fucking know cody's damn cc number to start with. which is actually funnier than it being habit to use his name - diversity win, the sith lord turning you into a zombie-muder machine to genocide a whole ass culture uses your chosen name, purely because he doesn't know how else to call you!
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FEBUWHUMP | NOT ALLOWED TO DIE | WC: 695
a/n: speculative ficlet on the end of bnha. manga spoilers.
//
His whole body ached. This was nothing new to Tomura, who had been plagued with an awareness of bodily discomfort since he was conscious enough to register it, but unlike before, there was no way he could relieve himself of the pain.
He could not lift a limb; he could barely turn his head.
Beside him on the torn-up battlefield, Midoriya wheezed and wept dry, rasping sobs. He looked even more of a mess than Tomura, and the insides of Tomura were still churning with the stupid, indigestible truth that deep down, he was a pitiful child wanting to be saved. The ghosts had been ruthless in their excavation.
“Shut up,” Tomura managed, and his lips curled weakly to bare his teeth. “Just--would you shut the hell up and kill me already?”
Midoriya twitched. Unlike Tomura, Midoriya was laid-out flat on his back, face turned to the sky and all four limbs stretched out like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. The kid didn’t even bother twisting his neck. He just side-eyed Tomura with unwarranted incredulity.
“A hero wouldn’t hesitate. Not after all I’ve done.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do,” Midoriya said, unsteadily, “for the past hour?”
“You’re trying to be the good guy. ‘There’s always someone to save.’ Ugh.”
The doctor had subjected him to intense electric shocks, conditioning his body before the transfer of All for One, and the Quirk still hadn’t integrated peacefully. Star and Stripes tried to smother him in the ocean and obliterate him altogether. In neither of these cases did Tomura cry.
Tears were beading up now, threatening to spill over and soak the ground. Tomura crooked his fingers against the dirt, seeking Decay in the fiery ruins of his veins, and tasting blood when all he turned up was more pain.
“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I can’t look at--at all their stupid faces--and listen to them tell me that I was wrong--”
Unbelievably, Midoriya wrenched himself to the side and reached over to grab a fistful of Tomura’s hair. He said, “You don’t get to die.” He sounded like a hero; he sounded like a maniac who would see Tomura thrown into some asylum for ‘recovery’ when all it would really be was an indefinite term of drugged incarceration. “One for All didn’t go away so you could die. I told them I’d save you, and I will.”
“You and what Quirk?! You think you count for anything now? Even All Might’s word doesn’t mean shit!”
“You’re Quirkless too, now!” Midoriya fired back.
Tomura clenched his jaw. Maybe if he ate enough dirt, he’d throw up, choke on his own vomit, and die before any medical assistance reached them. Like being unable to use a Quirk mattered to the terrified, paranoid judicial system. He’d dusted both of Overhaul’s arms up to the elbows and they booked him in Tartarus anyway.
“I won’t let you disappear,” the boy swore.
“Moron,” Tomura spat. “I’m telling you over and over again, it doesn’t matter what the hell you want. You’re gonna stand against the heroes when they drag me to prison? You’re gonna ask them to go easy on me with the sentencing? It’d be more merciful to just kill me!”
Midoriya yanked on Tomura’s hair, and Tomura wailed a long, despairing cry into the dirt. Would anyone else help him? Dabi--useless. Toga--useless. Spinner--gone. Mr. Compress--imprisoned. All Tomura had left was Midoriya, and he hated Midoriya, but not enough to suppress Tenko’s needy want for a friend.
“If they take you, I’ll find you. I’ll ask All Might to find a safehouse in the country. I’ll make sure you have dogs to take care of.” Midoriya released Tomura and rolled himself completely to his stomach. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Exhaustion weighed on him as heavily as the hurt did on Tomura. “Don’t you want to live?”
This was the final straw, amidst the many final straws that had edged their fight further and further in Midoriya’s favor. Tomura had no desire to voice Tenko’s want, so he scrunched his wet eyes shut and screamed into the shattered earth.
Next to him, Midoriya waited.
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