EmpathyRC-1139, Cabur, shifted through the rubble of what had been Depot Bravo Five. It had been the site of a terrorist bombing, and Cabur, his squadmates and a handful of other commando squads had been sent in to look for survivors and to confirm that there were no other explosives. Close by, Cabur could see a commando in purple-streaked armour, RC-3412, Dain, of Canderous Squad, doing the same. Dain was one of Sergeant Isabet Reau’s commandos, and they were a notoriously psychotic bunch, even giving the Nulls a run for their money. Dain, however, was different; he was surprisingly soft-spoken and polite. Cabur wondered how someone like that had come from one of Reau’s squads, especially considering that the rest of Dain’s squad-Hazen, Cypher and Terra-were little more than thugs, violent and without empathy. Captain Ordo was there, too, although he seemed fairly indifferent to all of the death and destruction, and was instead inspecting the area.Empathy by Ultrabountyhunter
“Any luck so far?
The Last Fight Part I“Bruiser, what in the haran have you done to your armour?” Ambu asked, goggling at his friend.The Last Fight Part I by Ultrabountyhunter
Varos “Bruiser” Bralor stood proud in his bright orange armour. At over two meters tall, he was by far the tallest of the group, and carried a war hammer made of pure beskar. He had, however, removed his vambraces and rerebraces, leaving his large, rippling muscles completely exposed.
Bruiser shrugged, “Why deny the galaxy my beautiful arms? It’d be a crime to try.”
In front of Bruiser, Ambu Kelborn could only stare. He was clad in predominantly white-painted armour. His T-visor and gauntlets were green, and there were stripes along his shoulder and leg plates.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Montross,” Darik, Ambu’s younger brother, said, shooting a glance at Montross’ similarly exposed arms, before shaking his head.
Much like Ambu’s armour, Darik’s was painted white. Unlike his brother, however, it
Strill HuntingKaminoStrill Hunting by Ultrabountyhunter
"How is he?" Kelborn asked, trying to conceal the concern in his voice.
"There are significant burns on his face, and even with bacta, I am afraid that there will be scarring," Nala Se reported regretfully, frowning.
Kelborn supressed a groan and looked at the boy lying prone on the medical bed. Cadet 1158 had been attempting to plant a breaching charge as part of the commando cadets training. However, the lesson had gone awry and Five-Eight had been caught in the blast. Now, there he was in the infirmary, placed in a medically induced coma as the Kaminoan medics worked on him. Mij Gilamar had insisted that he worked on Five-Eight, convinced that the Kaminiise would try to murder to boy as he lay on the operating table. Kelborn had staunchly refused, not wanting that shabuir anywhere near his cadet or the infirmary. Knowing Gilamar, he'd probably threaten the medics, preventing them from getting any work done, while simultaneously stealing everything not bolted down, Kelb
The Broken ManKaminoThe Broken Man by Ultrabountyhunter
Ambu Kelborn strode down the sterile white hallways of Kamino, a towel flung over one shoulder. For once, he was not clad from head to toe in a set of green-and-white, durasteel beskar'gam. The clone soldiers he passed on the way to the communal refreshers seemed shocked by the sight of a member of the Cuy'val Dar out of armour. Hardly surprising, since none of the other Mandalorian members seemed to ever take them off. Kelborn believed that they never did, it would certainly explain why they all smelled as bad as they did. Unlike them, however, he believed in actually bathing.
He paused as he walked by the door to the lavatories. He wasn't certain, but he thought he had heard something, a struggle? Kelborn frowned, fights between the cadets were common, usually they were just releasing pent up aggression, but sometimes they were more serious. Certain cadets, like the ones trained by Dred Priest, Isabet Reau and of course, Skirata, were more prone to violent outbursts and
Haran: Mandalorian Hell
Shabuir: Extreme insult
Ner vod: My brother/friend
Chakaar: Scumbag, general insult
Arutiise: Non-Mandalorian, can also mean traitor.
Shabuir: Extreme insult
Firefek: Huttese, literally means curse
Shabla: Screwed up
Chakaar: Scumbag, grave robber, general insult
Shabuir: Extreme insult
Ne shab'rud'ni: Don’t mess with me
The clone cadets of Hyperion and Epsilon Squads were gathered together in the mess hall of the Tipoca City cloning facility. Hyperion Squad-1156, 1157, 1158 and 1159-sat on one side of the table, while Epsilon Squad-1203, 1204, 1205 and 1206-sat on the other.
“So, what do you think of the latest weapons?” Five-Six asked, as he picked at his food, strips of fanteel.
“The Verpine shatter guns? Eh, they leave a lot to be desired.” Oh-Three shrugged.
“Yeah, they break down way too easily. These kinetic weapons are far too unstable and require too much maintenance.” Five-Eight added.
“I agree. Sure, they’re good anti-armour weapons, but if the projectiles tear up the gun on the way out, it’s not terribly practical,” Oh-Four said.
“Personally, I prefer the deece, it’s a good, versatile weapon and-" Five-Six suddenly stopped and wrinkled his nose. He had suddenly been assaulted by a sharp, acrid odour "What is that smell?"
Oh-Two began grinning from ear to ear and pulled out an open bottle of a clear liquid.
"What is that?" Five-Seven asked, leaning in close to get a better look.
"It's vinegar, I got it just now," Oh-Three said, sounding unusually happy.
"Vinegar?" Oh-Five repeated slowly, testing the word out "What's it for?"
If possible, Oh-Three's smile got even wider as he raised the bottle up "It's like a flavouring. You just pour it on your food, like so…" He demonstrated with great gusto, liberally applying the vinegar to his tray. Soon, his food was absolutely covered with the stuff, the tray reeking of it.
Five-Seven quirked an eyebrow "Last time I checked, the server droids weren't exactly handing out that stuff. Where'd you get it?"
"Sergeant Kelborn gave it to me. I saw him pouring it on his fanteel. I asked if I could have some and he gave me the whole bottle!" Oh-Three motioned to their sergeant, who was sitting at a nearby table with sergeants Llats Ward and B'arin Apma.
"Which you've just poured onto your dinner," Oh-Six pointed out.
Oh-Three frowned at that "Oh yeah…well, maybe I can get some more?"
"You haven't even tried it yet, how do you even know if it's any good?" Five-Six asked.
"Well, only one way to find out." Oh-Three scooped up a generous portion of food on his fork and shovelled it in as fast as possible.
The others all peered closely at their brother, waiting for a reaction.
"Well?" Five-Six prompted after a moment.
It was as if a switch had been thrown on in Oh-Three's brain. His eyes suddenly lit up and he began to shovel more and more food into his mouth, barely even chewing, just wolfing his meal down.
"Oh, wow! This is amazing! Fantastic! You guys gotta try this!" At that, Oh-Three held up his tray, offering it up to the others.
Hesitantly, the other cadets each took a forkful and sampled the food.
"I mean, it does add some flavour, but…"
Five-Six was somewhat uneasy by Oh-Three's enthusiasm for the vinegar, compared to his brother's indifference. Perhaps it was a sign that Oh-Three's tastebuds had developed differently to the others? Five-Six frowned, what if they Oh-Three away? Would they do that for such a minor defect?
"This stuff is great! It tastes amazing and it's even fun to say! Vinegar, vinegar, vinegar!"
"I think he might have a problem…" Oh-Five said, shifting away from Oh-Three.
"Jeez, keep saying it and we may as well start calling you that." Five-Six rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm.
Oh-Three paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face "Hey, that's not-"
Five-Six frowned "Oh no, I was kidding!"
"-A bad idea! And hey, you wouldn't even have to call me that all the time, you could just shorten it to Vin, or something!" Oh-Three-Vinegar-exclaimed, stroking his chin.
"Great, now look at what you've done, Five-Six," Oh-Five said, shaking his head.
"Oh, come on, why is this such a bad idea? Some of the other cadets have nicknames," Vinegar pointed out.
"Yeah, mostly Skirata's," Five-Eight said with disdain, his lip curling "Do you really want to be like them?"
"Yeah, spoiled, wild, psychotic. Not exactly people you want to emulate. Like sergeant Kelborn says, they're just a bunch of brats! And Skirata's not any better, sergeant Kelborn told me that he's an emotionally crippled mess," Five-Six added, only then noticing that Epsilon Squad's eyes had widened in alarm.
"What'd you say about Kal'buir?" A voice from behind them hissed.
Five-Six sighed, closed his eyes and turned. When he opened them again, he saw exactly who he was expecting to see. The Nulls, the first clones that Skirata had adopted. They were stronger and faster than their brethren, and their physique showed it, their muscles evident even under their shirts. They were also dangerously mentally unstable, prone to outbursts of violence.
Five-Eight stood up, positioning himself between the Nulls and Five-Six "Easy there, brothers, we were just-"
He was interrupted when one of them-Ordo, Five-Six presumed, since he was at the head of them-roughly shoved him aside. At once, the other members of Epsilon Squad leapt up, ready to defend their brother. The Nulls smirked, sure that they'd be more than a match for the cadets. Ordo leaned forward, grabbed Five-Six by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close. Five-Six winced, he could feel Ordo's eyes burning into him, his hot breath on his face, smelling of sickly-sweet uj cake. Five-Six wrinkled his nose, If I get out of this alive, I'm going to inhale that vial of vinegar.
"What did you say about Kal'buir?" Ordo repeated, his voice low as he glared vibrodaggers at Five-Six.
Five-Six glared right back, grabbed Ordo's hands, pried them from his shirt and roughly shoved him back, much to the Null's surprise. "I said, Skirata is an emotionally crippled mess. Furthermore, he's also a self-righteous hypocrite, who clearly has no business being an instructor, or a father, judging by how you lot turned out."
Ordo recoiled as if he had been struck, and the Nulls all looked on in shock. After a moment, Ordo seemed to recover. His face contorted in rage, his brow furrowed and his mouth was suddenly open, his teeth bared as if he were a wild animal.
"Your one of sergeant Kelborn's cadets, aren't you?" Ordo snorted "I should have known, Kal'buir told us about him. How he ran away after Concord Dawn, how he abandoned the Mand'alor and his brothers and gave up fighting so he could run off to Kerkoidia. He's a hut'uun and a deserter!”
Five-Six glowered at Ordo “Sergeant Kelborn is twice the man sergeant Skirata is! Sergeant Kelborn doesn’t coddle us, he treats us like real soldiers, not like children! Sergeant Kelborn doesn’t spend all his time whining about how the Jedi are responsible for everything bad about the galaxy! Sergeant Kelborn doesn’t whitewash Mandalorian history when we ask about it!” He stepped forward, jabbing at Ordo.
Ordo shoved him in turn “Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?"
Five-Six snorted “The way sergeant Skirata’s been teaching you, I doubt I’d feel anything.”
Ordo lunged forward, fist raised. Five-Six stood his ground, and was satisfied when he felt no blow connect. Ordo’s fist was mere centimetres from Five-Six’s face, hanging there, unmoving.
Ordo scowled at Five-Six “You’re lucky Kal’buir told us not to hit our vod, or you’d be dead. Good thing my buir taught us better than your sergeant”
At that, he and the Nulls turned to leave.
“Hey, Ordo!” Five-Six cried out, pulling his arms back.
Ordo turned, just in time to see a flash of grey as Five-Six swung his meal tray into his jaw. There was a loud clang as metal struck bone, and Ordo was sent sprawling by the force of the hit. There was a sudden outcry from the surrounding clones and they all rushed to get a better view of the sight. The Null’s all clambered to reach Five-Six, who was being pulled back by his squad mates.
“What in blazes is going on here?!” A stern voice shouted.
At once, the other clones stopped moving, brought to attention by the cry. Sergeant Kelborn strode forward, flanked by Ward and Apma.
“Sergeant Skirata, I was-” Five-Six began, bowing his head.
“Why is N-11 on the ground and clutching at his jaw?” Kelborn broke in, glancing at Ordo, who was writhing on the floor.
“This cadet attacked him, sergeant! It was an unprovoked assault!” Mereel cried out, pointing at Five-Six.
“He insulted you, sergeant! He had it coming!” Five-Six snapped, turning to glower at Mereel.
Kelborn exhaled loudly and gave Five-Six a harsh look “My quarters. Now. The rest of you, go back to your food.” And at that, he spun on his heel and marched out of the mess hall.
Five-Six flinched, then looked around at his fellow cadets, who looked worried. After a moment, he strode out after Kelborn.
"Let's get something straight, cadet. I am not your father, I am not your friend, I am your sergeant. I don't need you to defend my non-existent honour from some jumped-up little psychopath with daddy issues. Am I understood, cadet?" Kelborn asked, a hard edge in his voice.
Five-Six stared down at the floor "Yes, sergeant."
“I had thought you were better than this. I didn’t want you to be falling prey to your emotions like this! Outbursts like this are the kind of thing that can get you killed in the field!” Kelborn continued, and started to pace about the room.
“I trained you hoping that you wouldn’t turn out like those psychopaths! I don’t want you to become a bunch of petty, narrow-minded, violent lunatics like Skirata’s boys! I wanted you to be…” Kelborn abruptly exhaled, and much of his anger seemed to vanish “I wanted you to be good. Not like them.”
“Yes, sergeant.” Five-Six repeated, looking curiously at his sergeant.
Kelborn sighed and ran his hand through his hair "I'm beginning to think this whole shabla job was as bad an idea as when I bet on Mars Guo to win at the Boonta Eve Classic."
"Sergeant?" Five-Six asked, confused.
Kelborn shook his head "Forget it, podracing, it's a sport. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime, when we’re not training.” He turned his gaze up to the ceiling and stared at it for almost a minute, before turning back to Five-Six “Go back to the mess hall, Five-Six, and don’t you dare have an outburst like that again. Am I understood?”
Five-Six nodded “Yes, sergeant.”
And at that, he left the room.
Kelborn sighed “They’re not your kids, Ambu. Don’t make the same mistake Skirata’s making. They’re soldiers, not kids.”
Five-Six sat down at the table, his fellow cadets looking at him anxiously.
“So, how did it go?” Five-Nine asked, peering closely at Five-Six.
“Did he beat you?” Vinegar added.
“No, no, he just chewed me out. No bruises this time,” Five-Six told them, shaking off their questions, then turned to look around “What happened to Ordo?”
“You broke his jaw! He was rolling around on the floor, crying out until sergeant Gilamar came along and brought him to the medical bay. Then sergeant Skirata showed up, mad as hell!” Five-Eight reported.
“He was crying out for your blood. He even called you a shabla little jawbreaker,” Five-Seven said.
Five-Six looked thoughtful for a moment “Jawbreaker, huh? You know, I kind of like the sound of that…”
Shabla: Messed up
Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?: You looking for a smack, brother?
Ahem, well, hi all, Ultrabountyhunter here. Well, for starters, I really can't draw that well. Anyway, I'm into a wide variety of...stuff, from Trick 'r Treat to Invader Zim to The Adventures of Sam (anyone remember that show? No? Oh well then...sigh), so I'm probably going to favourite a wide range of pics.|
Current Residence: Adelaide
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