Do I have no restraint? yes. I'm slowly losing my mind. It's fine though. I love these boys so much. 104th deserves the world. Once again, this is an "Update at my leisure" sort of fic, because school is scary and I'm an adult.

Heads up for those who didn't read the label on the tin: this is an AU. Plo Survived O66 with parts of the Pack + Jag and they picked up Wildfire on the way. Like all my fics now, I have more notes below for just world-building and thought process. and plothole covering.

The sound of alarm bells rang out through the night, distant to a point, but even then, all of them were close enough for the noise to partially cover their movements. The alarm sounded like a gong, and perhaps it was, but that was of little importance at the moment.

He moved through the fog and dead forest like a shadow, his dark cloak covering his body and hood covering his face. Red blaster fire whizzed past his face, though he easily dodged and twisted out of the way before, with a sudden hum of energy and a sudden shock of blue in the darkness, the scout who was the closest to him was cut down.

Just as quickly, however, the blade was deactivated and he melted back into the fog. The scouts fanned out, looking for him, along with finding their own cover to try and hide from him, but it was of little use. Blue lit up the darkness for a moment once more, but this time it followed the sound of a blaster. Another scout swung their rifle around, firing in the direction that the surprise attack had come from, only to be shot from another direction.

A third shifted, readying to fire before he struck again, emerging from the fog and cutting through both the scout and the tree they had been hiding behind.

More footsteps could just be heard, moving through the fog and darkness as he cloaked himself within the fog again. The night fell still, the scouts frozen in position and he moved from his own position, steps light and silent. Above and around him, branches shifted and cracked, darkened shapes moved through the fog, some running past him, others scaling the trees above before seemingly vanishing into the night.

The scouts shifted, holding position, but he could taste the nervousness coming off of them— which was impressive, considering his limited tasting ability on the planet— as the silence stretched on.

He thumbed the switch on his lightsaber for a moment before, from the fog, came a figure. He was shorter and stockier than he was, though that could simply be due to the difference in species. The man at his side was human, he was not.

"Ready when you are," the figure murmured to him, his own hood pulled down over his face and twin blasters in hand. Figures moved above them, silent and ready and he simply nodded.

Blue cut through the darkness again as he surged forwards, slashing the arm of one scout off before twisting, and, with a sudden buzz of ignition, an orange-colored blade pierced the scout's chest. Just as quickly, both blades vanished as he continued on into the fog. Red blaster fire followed him before blue rained down on the scouts who remained. One or two fell to the rain of blaster fire, but the rest hurried to retreat, exiting the dying forest and trying to get to an open area.

But he was nothing but resourceful. A simple tug from the force brought the fog with him as he walked calmly after the retreating scouts.

He stopped right before reaching the edge of the forest before soft thumps sounded around him and from the trees dropped two figures. Three more came from the fog around them, all five identical in height and wearing cloaks with the hoods drawn up to cover their faces similarly to him— though he supposed he'd be a bit more recognizable than the rest of his company with him.

It was hard to miss the modified anti-ox mask that covered half his face.

Still, he glanced back at the five men behind him, hooking his secondary saber back in its place on his belt.

"Shall we… give chase, my sons?" he asked them, tone a bit lofty and chuckles rose from the five of them.

"It's not much of a hunt, Buir," one of them said, tilting his head just a bit. He chuckled in response.

"Come now, Boost," he chided gently, though his tone was more amused if anything. "I thought you had fun hunting."

A snicker came from the one next to Boost. "He's got you there, vod," he pointed out before he adjusted his footing. "But let's get this fight over with."

A third nodded. "The sooner we get these people free, the sooner we can go back to shooting real Imps," he grunted.

He shook his head. "Do not take the Magistrate so lightly, Warthog," he warned but relented after a moment. "But I agree. Let us finish this quickly."

Identical grins that were nothing but teeth could be seen from under the hoods of the men before the obvious leader of the five stepped forward. He took a deep breath before a howl tore from the back of his throat, deep and powerful. His brothers mimicked him, howls resounding through the night before the five vanished into the fog that he was bringing in from the forest.

He waited a moment before he followed after his sons, his pace almost leisurely as red and blue blaster fire lit up in the fog. A red bolt was fired, aimed at his face but in a swift movement, he blocked, blue lighting up his form before he sprung forwards. The lightsaber cut cleanly through the scout and the last of the blaster fire stopped.

He sheathed his saber again as his sons regrouped to him, but he raised a hand, signaling for them to fall back into the fog as he continued towards the gates of the city. He could see the Magistrate standing on the ramparts with a spear in hand, a few guards dotting the walls around her.

"Show yourself, Jedi," the woman ordered, voice ringing loud and clear across the now silent night. He continued forwards before he flicked his wrist. The fog and dust cleared around him but kept his sons out of sight. With that same hand, he reached up, throwing his hood back, and with the other, he ignited his lightsaber, bathing the area around him in a blue glow.

The woman tilted her head as the two of them gazed at each other.

"A Kel Dor Jedi…" she mused. "I had been expecting a Jedi… but not you."

"Is it so bizarre for a Kel Dor to be a Jedi?" he asked back, his tone just as even. "Or is it the fact that I am a Kel Dor that is bizarre to you?"

The woman's eyes narrowed but she remained silent on the topic.

He continued. "Though the fact that you were expecting a Jedi means that you know why you're being tracked down in the first place."

"You will learn nothing from me," the woman spat and he chuckled, a reverberating noise from behind his anti-ox mask.

"Perhaps," he said simply. "But that is not your choice to make."

The Magistrate tilted her head again before she beckoned to someone out of sight. Mechanical clanking sounded and he silently made a slight gesture that would have been lost to anyone but his sons.

Stay still. Stay alert.

A duo of droids escorted a gaunt-looking man into view, his head bowed and clothing threadbare. She gestured to the man.

"How many lives is the knowledge I possess worth to you?" she asked. "One? Ten? How about a hundred."

He was silent, still as he gazed up at her. Gently though, he reached out with his mind, gently soothing the terrified prisoner as the woman continued to speak. He felt the man relax under the gentle soothing of the Force, and assured him that he would save them all soon.

"Now because of you, these people will suffer."

"They already suffer under your rule," he retorted, a low rumble lacing the undertones of his voice. "It would be easier for the both of us if you surrendered and faced the consequences of your actions."

He turned, cloak fluttering behind him as he gently soothed the prisoner's mind again before withdrawing slowly.

"You have one day," he warned, and with a simple flick of his wrist again, the fog rolled back in and he deactivated his saber, walking back towards the forest.

"Why give them a day, Buir?" a voice sounded to his left as his sons rejoined him in the fog, hidden from those atop the walls that surrounded the city of Calodan. His hood was thrown off, hair bleached white as the others joined them. "Why wait so long?"

He simply hummed. "In truth, I would prefer to take as few lives as possible in this endeavor," he told him before his eyes softened a bit. "Little 'Soka is currently busy, she has entrusted this task to us, despite not being a part of the rebels formally. I should hope that when we return tomorrow, the Magistrate is willing to talk, though I highly doubt it."

He paused, glancing back at the five men with a smile in his tone. "Besides, if we are to hunt, we wouldn't want for your brothers to be left out of the fun."

All five of them had removed their hoods, showing the distinct and identical facial structure they shared but there were distinct differences between them all.

There was Sinker, the one with the bleached white hair, and his partner in crime and his closest brother, Boost, with his hair dyed red and shaved into two strips.

Behind them were Warthog and Comet, hair unchanged in color from their original, dark hue, though Comet's hair was longer and pulled back into a small ponytail with the sides buzzed. Warthog's hair was cut short, though the more noticeable thing about him was the wolf-shaped insignia that was tattooed on the side of his neck.

Bringing up the rear, though he quickly jogged back to the front after assuring that they weren't being followed, was the eldest of his sons. With his hair also cut short, a scar across one of his eyes, and a cybernetic one in place of the original was Wolffe.

"The more the merrier when it comes to overthrowing a government!" Boost agreed with a nod as Wolffe snorted, rolling his eyes a bit, but his lips had quirked up just slightly.

"Well, whatever happens, we swore to follow you through fire and flame," he said, reaching up and ghosting his fingers over his scarred eye before his hand dropped back to his side. "We trust your judgment, Buir."

"Thank you, my sons."

The five, all identical in facial structure, brightened at that as they walked deeper into the forest, and the fog swallowed their tracks as they did.

Yes. These were his sons— five of them at least, and two more were waiting back at their temporary camp. These were his sons, and he was their father, despite the species difference.

These men, once soldiers under the 104th battalion for the Republic so many years ago. And he had been their General, a guiding hand to them. But now he was simply their adoptive father working alongside them to ensure peace remained, weeding out those from the Empire who slipped through its fall.

For years they fought against the Empire, gritting their teeth as they killed brothers, stormtroopers, and droids alike. They moved like shadows on the edges of the Empire's sights, appearing long enough to cause damage before slipping away again. The rebellion was wide-spread, but it was impossible for them to get everywhere. They often focused on where the Rebellion could not, fighting injustice for those who were not human and

They were the Wolfpack. His sons and himself, that was who they were.

Remnants of an age long past, but still fighting for the same goal as they were back then.

For peace.

Though perhaps he was not a Jedi, toeing the line of the Grey.

Nonetheless, Plo Koon knew, as he walked with his sons through the fog, it was their duty no matter what side of the force they fell on— light or grey— to balance the injustice in the Galaxy.

The fog parted and a single figure looked over from where he was in the clearing, his dark hair, streaked with silver, long and tied back in a slightly messy bun/

Wildfire.

He was sitting on top of the modified VCX-100 that the boys had… acquired (he never did ask) and his blaster was in hand before as soon as he sensed movement. The boys (though he supposed he would have to stop calling them as such, they were 20-somethings now and had many more years mentally) had affectionately started calling the ship The Hunt when they had first… acquired it.

Wildfire relaxed once he saw who it was before he stood up and hopped down from his chosen spot. From The Hunt came Jag, looking as if he just woke up— which was a likely probability— with his hair a mess and rubbing his neck.

"Welcome back, Buir," Wildfire greeted before frowning. "I know that look on Boost's face, what happened?"

"Oh nothing bad," Plo assured him as they walked over.

"Yeah, but Boost is grinning," Jag pointed out with a yawn, walking down the entrance ramp "We should be worried."

"Hey!"

Plo chuckled at that, but shook his head again. "No, nothing of Boost's usual need for a grin," he assured the pilot, which made Sinker and Warthog snicker. "But something did happen. As we suspected, the Magistrate is going to be unwilling to talk. I have given her until tomorrow, but it is likely we will be fighting."

Wolffe nodded as he stepped up next to him. "Best we armor up and get ready, boys," he told the small group, easily slipping into his "commander" voice from all those years ago. Had they been anyone else, Plo was certain he'd be almost worried about how easily all eight of them were all able to slip back into 'war mode" from the days of the Galactic Republic.

But they weren't anyone else. They were a General and his Men, who also happened to be father and sons now.

"Should we wear the fun armor or the boring armor?" Plo heard Sinker ask as he and Jag went to go find everyone's armor and Comet moved to start a small fire to boil water for the rations.

Wolffe rolled his eyes again before sighing.

"Just get our old GAR shit out," he called back towards The Hunt. "Let's show this lady who she's really up against."

"Wolffe's pack!" Comet happily answered back and the boys all laughed in some way or another. Plo smiled from behind his mask, gently reaching out and stroking Comet's hair, the youngest of the vod leaning into his touch.

Yes. They were simply the Wolfpack now. Not a Jedi General and his Men, just the Pack.

And that was all they needed to be.

Wildfire is a 104th but, from what I can tell, not a wolfpack clone from legends. You'd think id be able to keep the battalions and subgroups separate but nope. in my mind everyone in the pack is also the 104th.

Stormlanturns drew Comet and Warthog for inktober and I love those designs so that's what I'm using for them. Neither are seen without their helmets and imo I love that both baby energy clones have longer hair (tup and comet are both baby energy, fite me). Wildfire also has no art of him as a young and spry clone, but his older art shows him with a man bun so that's also him. Meanwhile, Jag has no art of him, but he's dark-haired with curls, sorta like boba but not long. So like Harry Potter, I guess.

Translations:

Buir: Parent, in this case, Father

Vod: Brother/Sister/Sibling, in this case, Brother

Further Notes:

Before he joined the Council, Plo had another saber colored yellow or orange (I chose orange because hahaha carrot). It's possible that this is no longer canon, but here, the saber was destroyed in his early years on council. He kept the pieces and moved on to using the one we know today. Post O66 he retrieved the pieces and reconstructed the blade as a secondary weapon when needed.

In regard to O66, that's not a major thing since uhhhh, Mando storyline but basically, 24 years is a long time for the clones with accelerated aging. Let's just say that Plo and Ahsoka figured out the way to reverse that and um. Plo got to deal with a bunch of 14-13-year-olds for a bit. The boys are all their ages had they been nat born from the very beginning of tcw because wooo funky force bs. The plothole's been covered with leaves it's fine. D… don't ask about the eye. please. I'm already struggling enough. There are leaves over the hole, lets just move along.

Anyways, O66— Wolffe's eye offset the chip and he was able to warn Plo so that the hit wasn't fatal. The crash still happened, but Wolffe and the other named Pack go to get the body from the crash. Wolffe's suffering from partial control, but he's able to tell Plo about the chips and Plo uses some force shenanigans to destroy or deactivate the chips momentarily(?). They get removed fully later but it's a big thing of "who can we trust, who do we trust" with them, so they're very hesitant to reach out and join the rebellion. Not to mention uhhh Plo just got fucking shot out of the sky. He's injured and needs medical attention. The best option is, obviously, a neutral area. Warthog steals a ship and they vanish off the grid and into Huttspace for a while. Jag was saved because he deserves redemption. Somewhere along the line they met with Ahsoka and Rex, have a heart to heart, but Plo was still too deep in grief to really wish to join any sort of rebellion where the possibility of becoming too connected with people only to have them killed off hung over his head. Instead, he and the rest of the pack acted as an independent branch of the rebellion. sorta like mercenaries but only for the rebels.

That's the crash course on why Plo's still alive. Who else is still alive, who knows. I haven't even started thinking about that yet.

And once more for the people in the back, Comet has certified Baby Energy ™