Origins. The Tale of an Ex ARC RC 212.

[RC 212]

Sand lots of sand. Days like today reminded Rc of times past. Ancient memories of battles once fought and won. The price of blood that had come with the battles was unbearable and weighed heavy on his mind. Only five years ago Rc had awoken from his deep sleep and in a short time had regained much that he had lost.
But the nightmares still plagued him. The screams of Clone soldiers cut down by unthinking unfeeling mercileess droids. The sights of blood and decapitated brothers. The smell of burnt metal and hydraulics as he destroyed scores upon scores of the metal demons.
Even worse was the aftermath of order Sixty six. RC could remember the sights of the Jedi as they were ruthlessly cut down, and their dead bodies burned in mighty fires. He remembered the terrible shocked looks on their faces, moments before they fell to their deaths, smoking holes riddling their bodies.

RC shook himself from his thoughts and continued on through the streets of Tatooine. He was on a vacation, trying to cope with his past.
Perhaps someone to talk to could ease my thoughts, He mused.
He came upon a bar. The Drunken Freighter. As he wiped the sand off of his Beskar'gam RC entered and took a seat at the corner of the shady bar. It was cool and dark just the way he like it. RC ordered an Ale and removed his helmet, setting it gingerly on the table.
Before he took a drink, he opened his leather satchel on his belt and took out a deathstick. This was his guilty pleasure, a way to distance himself from the nightmares.
Flick. The lighter lit the end of the deathstick and RC inhaled deeply, flicking the ash on the floor.
"Who wants to hear the tale of RC 212!" He uttered softly to no one in particular.

 

[Rhaec'Teth]

@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member="RC 212"]

Tatooine was where he had been spending a lot of his time lately. The planet was a backwater and out of the way world where all manner of scum and villainy could be found to congregate. The Drunken Freighter just another dive amongst many where watered down liquor that passed as drinkable was served and low lifes gathered in numbers. As RC 212 entered the tavern eyes went to him but particularly the eyes belonging to Ronan Dyre who was seated at the bar along the far side so that his back was towards a wall and he could sit facing the various booths that lined the Drunken Freighter while watching the door. Looking at the armored man he didn't see much at first.

Dressed in a duster that hung over his frame Ronan was average looking in most respects which is how he wanted to remain. Most people don't give a second look to a person who can blend in with the crowd. If there was anything that made him stand out it was his two toned hair and the golden hue of his skin which was complimented by the blue cobalt of his eyes. Underneath his duster he wore Armor Weave which was only partially concealed by the clothing overtop it. There was a Heavy Blaster holstered over his right hip, low slung, for easy access and a quick draw and where one to look at him closely they may have seen the ended bulk running down his side as well ending in a metallic blade that protruded just underneath the bottom edge of his duster.

When RC 212 took a seat at a table in the corner of the bar he was watching as the man removed his helm before lighting a deathstick, something that seemed common amongst patrons of the shady taverns, and then he heard him utter something that made him tilt his head to one side.

"No one."

...his words were coarse, his tone rough, but looking around the establishment Ronan realized this was likely to be the answer of most of the patrons however he added moments later...

"Why don't you come and tell me anyways though. I have time."

...he was being polite and the truth was Ronan didn't talk much so someone who wanted to tell a story would be company and it would also distract from his obvious lack of social skills and rhetoric. Reaching for the glass of whiskey, watered down to the point of tasting like filth, Rona would have raised it to his mouth and taken a slow sip while waiting to see if the man known as RC 212 would begin his tale.

 

[RC 212]

@[member="Ronan Dyre"]
RC looked up to Ronana take a seat and let out a long trail of smoke. His face was the face of Jango fett. He was scarred and grizled, a stuble reaching its way around. No one really knew RC well in the galaxy and he hesitated. Would it be worth his time to tell the newcomer his tale. Would it matter?
RC decided it didnt matter and took another drag of the deathstick.
"Well it all starts a long time ago......

"ARC 212 , prepare to drop."
RC Stepped forward, hefting his rifle.His newly minted Katarn armor was freshly painted and still gleamed. He had yet to see battle but today was the day. On board the first LAAT down to the surface of Felucia, the Jedi General gave him the orders and he relayed them back. Today there going to be hitting the CIS main base of operations. RC was charged with leading his ARC squadron in the assault.
The LAAT came down hard. Blaster fire rang across the DZ and RC leapt off first. His DC-17m sprayed waves of fire into the droids. They began to press the assault towards the center of the compound. Smoke was rising. Two troopers beside RC took direct hits and fell. ARC-213 turned to him.
"They're right up on us, we got to get inside that control center and knock out the relays!" He roared.
RC charged the nearest droid two feet from him and stuck his blaster right into its chest obliterating it with blue particle beams. Two more took its place. The ARC trooper dropped into a crouch, drawing both pistols from his holsters. HE swept wide, firing each in a separate direction, arms spread like an eagles wings. Fire and smoke billowed from their frames as they plummeted down.
"Tell Colonel Carner to keep the assault coming! Renegade Squad on me!"
They charged forwards, using grenades rifles and severing droids with their vibroblades. The ARC squadron cut a path of carnage to the access lifts....

RC paused to let it all sink in

"There we were newly made ARC troopers last of the line. We were cutting our way to the center of the beast before we had our unfortunate episode of course."

 

[Rhaec'Teth]

@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member="RC 212"]

Listening politely Ronan waited as RC 212 began to tell his story. As a Veteran of several conflicts prior to his change in occupation Ronan could appreciate a good tale especially when it was the story of another man with depth and experience. He'd seen how RC had hesitated and knew the questions he must have been asking himself because he'd seen similar men ask themselves those questions silently. Would it be worth telling the story? Would it matter? Honestly no one could answer that question. No one in this wayside tavern on Tatooine anyways.

Nodding his head once as he listened Ronan would lift his cup to his mouth while RC began the tale and down the remainder of the vile liquor therein as he considered the story the man was telling. Knowing a thing or two of Fellucia as well fighting against droids Ronan appeared quite attentive when it came to the story that he was hearing while he sat comfortably with his back angled against the bar. As he listened to the story it brought his own mind back to several different exploits that he had also partaken in however as RC stopped and let what he had said sink in Ronan would speak...

"One moment."

...before he turned to the Bartender and ordered two drinks, a refill of the vile liquor that he had been drinking as well as an extra cup for RC 212, saying...

"On me."

...then he would have slapped a handful of credits down onto the bar and waited. The Bartender refilled Ronan's drink and a waitress brought RC 212 his own cup before Ronan, fingers stretching around the cup, lifted his and stated...

"Cheers. Continue."

...then he was all ears once more while taking another swallow of the vile liquid. It burned the entire way down and made Ronan think his voice was raspy when he spoke but it would do the job if enough of it was drank. He wasn't a cheap drunk so it would take a lot to cause his wits to slip away but it would take less to help him loosen up and become more comfortable than usual. Setting the cup back down on the bar when he finished Ronan continued to listen as RC told his story waiting to hear more of it as he continued to lend the man his time in the din of the tavern.

 

[RC 212]

@[member="Ronan Dyre"]
RC took the drink and swilled it. He slugged it down and set the glass down then sank back into his memories.
"So we were going towards the control center and...."
"Clear!" ARC 213 shouted. RC charged out of the lift sweeping both ends of the hall. They were lost inside, the control center had become a maze of hallways complete with destroyer droids and deadly traps

"ARC 214 Get this freaking lift running!" RC bellowed at his brother. Every lift had suddenly shut down, and RC was not one to take stairs. He waited in a crouch as 214s nimble hands tore wire apart and reworked the control panel. It was quiet, really really quiet and RC knew that quiet was a bad sign.

"You hear that?" RC asked 213.

"Yeah too quiet, 214 hurry your shab up."

"Got it." 214 said

The lift whooshed open with a gusto and RC turned towards it checking to see if there was any hidden wires of lasers on the door. Suddenly a blue holoimage crackled to life in their helmets. Colonel Carner appeared in his HUD and RC swore at the interuption.

"212 Return outside the the staging area. General Maris is waiting. Lord Palpatine has given us directive to execute order sisxty six at once."
The vision cut out and RC scowled.

"What the hell is order sixty six?" 214 asked.

"I dont know but lets move. Cant keep general Maris waiting." RC shot back

They piled into the lift and it spilled them onto the grounds below. Just as the doors opened RC watched Colonel Carner in deep conversation with the Jedi and two padawans nod to the team of Clone commandos that stood flanking Maris. RC and the ARC team began to walk towards the general about to greet him.

Suddenly the commandos drew their DC-17ms and unleashed a volley of fire point blank into Maris body. RC watched in horror as the situation went slow motion and the Jedi general turned. He drew his lightsaber deflected one bolt then took a shot to the head by RC's commander Colonel Carner.

With practiced reflexes RC automatically drew his own DC-17 and dropped low. The ARCs split off forming a line around the troopers and and the commandos.

"What the hell was that! Traitors! Kill em all!" RC roared.

The scene dissolved into chaos. The Commando team tried to turn and shoot but RC place four particle beams into their heads dropping them. As the other ARCs opened fire RC charged sprinting full speed towards the Clone Colonel. Colonel Carner attempted to draw his pistol as the Padawans lit up their light-sabers and began to cut down the nearest clone soldiers.

RC slammed full speed into the colonel grabbing him by the neck and pinning him up against the turbo tank.

"Whats going on sir! What the hell are you doing!"

"ARC 212 you are have ordered to execute all Jedi traitors.General order sixty six Now unhand me or i'll-"

RC cut it short with a vibroblade up under his chin and into his brain

"Grab the Jedi lets go!....."

RC paused again to take another drag of his deathstick. He was reaching back far now. Back into things in his head that need not be meddled with, but it gave him a sort of validation having another soul in the galaxy know his story. RC took another drink, letting his buzz escalate.

"So the rest of the story onlly gets more twisted."