Fabula Caromed
Belle of the Brawl
Kamino, Dread Guard training facility
Every hundred hours or so, Nadir stopped to consider what she was doing with the very short life she'd thusfar lived. Wake up, train, drill, spar, sleep. Repeat ad infinitum. Her purpose was clear, but she didn't exactly understand what she was doing to accomplish that purpose. A few missions here or there, a deploy or two for the Confederacy, and then she had nothing for days. Weeks. Months. Just back to the grind of daily life.
Eventually it started to wear on her. CC-329 wasn't exactly the most stable of clones to begin with, and on top of that she seemed to be showing distressing signs of growing a brain. She counted her blessings that the Kaminoans hadn't noticed. Apparently they were too busy being upset with her at not being a gruff, masculine shock trooper like the rest of the Dread Guard to notice that she'd started questioning her existence. Hopefully she could just keep fooling them until she had proven herself to be more of an actual asset than a theoretical one.
Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. Nadir stood with the rest of a group of Dread Sisters. Sisters often trained together, due to differences in the design. They couldn't possibly learn the same CQC routines as males, and often thought in a slightly different manner compared to Fett clones. Nadir could practically remember every one of their unique faces, unique tattoos, unique names. And she could remember the unique way to kill each one in less than five seconds.
Standing in her training spandex with the rest of the small group, Nadir tried hard to distract herself from the ever-present need in her mind to analyze the weaknesses of everyone around her for quick execution. She could use that later, during the hand-to-hand spar, but for now she hadn't been called up to bat.
@[member="CC-935 Bluejay"]
Every hundred hours or so, Nadir stopped to consider what she was doing with the very short life she'd thusfar lived. Wake up, train, drill, spar, sleep. Repeat ad infinitum. Her purpose was clear, but she didn't exactly understand what she was doing to accomplish that purpose. A few missions here or there, a deploy or two for the Confederacy, and then she had nothing for days. Weeks. Months. Just back to the grind of daily life.
Eventually it started to wear on her. CC-329 wasn't exactly the most stable of clones to begin with, and on top of that she seemed to be showing distressing signs of growing a brain. She counted her blessings that the Kaminoans hadn't noticed. Apparently they were too busy being upset with her at not being a gruff, masculine shock trooper like the rest of the Dread Guard to notice that she'd started questioning her existence. Hopefully she could just keep fooling them until she had proven herself to be more of an actual asset than a theoretical one.
Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. Nadir stood with the rest of a group of Dread Sisters. Sisters often trained together, due to differences in the design. They couldn't possibly learn the same CQC routines as males, and often thought in a slightly different manner compared to Fett clones. Nadir could practically remember every one of their unique faces, unique tattoos, unique names. And she could remember the unique way to kill each one in less than five seconds.
Standing in her training spandex with the rest of the small group, Nadir tried hard to distract herself from the ever-present need in her mind to analyze the weaknesses of everyone around her for quick execution. She could use that later, during the hand-to-hand spar, but for now she hadn't been called up to bat.
@[member="CC-935 Bluejay"]