Fabula Caromed
Belle of the Brawl
Kamino, Dread Guard training facility
CC-329 clicked the automated straps on her armor's boots and stood from her bunk, kicking the panel beneath her bed. As her private locker slid out from beneath it, the clone soldier turned to look at the rest of the room. Sleep shift for her block, and instead of catching some shut-eye so she could go back into drills in a few hours, she was being pulled for something special. Finally she'd get to see some action, instead of just being relentlessly assailed by Kaminoans attempting to make her into a frontline shock trooper.
She snatched and holstered her pistol, her knife, and considered dropping by the armory for a few grenades. When she touched the barrel of her rifle, long and smooth and packing silent death, she decided against it. Explosives would hardly be conducive to a quiet operation, and her orders had specifically been to bring her rifle, which had a certain implication of subtlety. Nadir gave its grip a quick squeeze of affection, then kicked her locker again and started off towards the landing pad.
It was silent in her bunk hall, but the moment the doors opened, the sounds of the rest of the Kamino facility flooded into her ears. A thousand clones were probably training right now, a thousand more eating, a thousand more doing drills, and so on. It was not a quiet planet, ever. She'd probably be stopped once or twice by long-necks wanting to know why she was out and about when her number designation indicated she should be sleeping. Nadir didn't care. Nothing was going to keep her down right now.
The clone walked out into the rain, hitting the weather setting on her visor almost out of reflex. It was always raining on Kamino. Her boots splashed with every step, though the walkways were properly made of non-slick material. Honestly, she still found it amazing that a bunch of goofy, graceless Kaminoans could walk around high, unprotected bridges in a constant monsoon without falling and dying. Drilled soldiers made sense, but those aliens?
Her thoughts were interrupted when she reached the landing pad. Her Commander stood waiting. 'Cloak is saturated in rain, ground slick. Reactions clumsy. Kick out right foot and draw knife. Hook leg into rear of knee, elbow strike to throat. Slash.' She didn't even try to suppress that reflex. It caused her far more grief when she did. Without a single indication that she'd just imagined killing him in cold blood without an explanation, Nadir marched up and struck a stiff salute. "CC-329 reporting as requested, Commander."
@[member="Isley Verd"]
CC-329 clicked the automated straps on her armor's boots and stood from her bunk, kicking the panel beneath her bed. As her private locker slid out from beneath it, the clone soldier turned to look at the rest of the room. Sleep shift for her block, and instead of catching some shut-eye so she could go back into drills in a few hours, she was being pulled for something special. Finally she'd get to see some action, instead of just being relentlessly assailed by Kaminoans attempting to make her into a frontline shock trooper.
She snatched and holstered her pistol, her knife, and considered dropping by the armory for a few grenades. When she touched the barrel of her rifle, long and smooth and packing silent death, she decided against it. Explosives would hardly be conducive to a quiet operation, and her orders had specifically been to bring her rifle, which had a certain implication of subtlety. Nadir gave its grip a quick squeeze of affection, then kicked her locker again and started off towards the landing pad.
It was silent in her bunk hall, but the moment the doors opened, the sounds of the rest of the Kamino facility flooded into her ears. A thousand clones were probably training right now, a thousand more eating, a thousand more doing drills, and so on. It was not a quiet planet, ever. She'd probably be stopped once or twice by long-necks wanting to know why she was out and about when her number designation indicated she should be sleeping. Nadir didn't care. Nothing was going to keep her down right now.
The clone walked out into the rain, hitting the weather setting on her visor almost out of reflex. It was always raining on Kamino. Her boots splashed with every step, though the walkways were properly made of non-slick material. Honestly, she still found it amazing that a bunch of goofy, graceless Kaminoans could walk around high, unprotected bridges in a constant monsoon without falling and dying. Drilled soldiers made sense, but those aliens?
Her thoughts were interrupted when she reached the landing pad. Her Commander stood waiting. 'Cloak is saturated in rain, ground slick. Reactions clumsy. Kick out right foot and draw knife. Hook leg into rear of knee, elbow strike to throat. Slash.' She didn't even try to suppress that reflex. It caused her far more grief when she did. Without a single indication that she'd just imagined killing him in cold blood without an explanation, Nadir marched up and struck a stiff salute. "CC-329 reporting as requested, Commander."
@[member="Isley Verd"]