Chapter 8: I Have to Paint My Armor? And I'm Now a Cyborg?!
(Day 8 w/ the Bad Batch)
"What is that?" Talla wondered with a raise of her brow as everyone faithfully stepped into the room bright and early the next morning, Wrecker oddly carrying in a mysterious crate on his shoulder and setting it by her bed where she was lying down after her scheduled 'dark-thirty' bacta tank session.
"It's your new armor the Kaminoans sent over!" Wrecker revealed excitedly, popping open the crate like a child eagerly ripping open a present from their parents and showing its contents to the slightly groggy young woman.
Talla shifted the positioning of her bed with a press of a button, so she was able to sit upright. "Why did you bring it here? It's going to be another day or two before I can even manage to gear up again."
Wrecker still pulled a chair up to her bed and started taking out the various shaped pieces of white plastoid while the others made themselves comfortable in the spare chairs around the room. "Well we gotta paint it like ours!" He explained as if it was the most obvious answer in the universe!
"Is that necessary?" Talla asked him, noncompliant to the idea, "Armor is just supposed to protect me from harm. Adding images to it just seems... redundant."
Wrecker paused to shoot her a clueless look, "Redun-what?"
"'Not useful.'" Tech clarified flatly without looking up from his datapad, happily tapping away.
"Ohhh!" Wrecker gave Talla puppy-dog eyes, "But you're with us now, and we can't have ya looking like a boring reg!" The very thought made him want to puke!
Now it was Talla's turn to be clueless, "Reg?"
Tech: "'Regular Clone Troopers.'" Tap, tap.
"Oh, so another nickname?"
Tap, tap. "Yes." Tap, tap, tap.
Talla made a noise of interest over this new fact she learned and filed the knowledge away for later, then sighed reluctantly as Wrecker was relentless with this weird face thing that seemed to work at wearing down her resolve, "I really don't think I can make my armor like yours - I'm a clone soldier, not an artist. I don't know the first thing about painting."
"I'll help ya!" He assured her, "It's not that hard, just make it look awesome!"
Talla's expression was blank. "I don't know a thing about that either, Wrecker."
Wrecker was adamant though that this was necessary ritual that needed to be performed in order to fit in with their squad's style, and that she'd thank him for this later - by the time they finished, she'd look so kriffing badass!
"An expletive that means 'tough, uncompromising, or intimidating.'" Tech helpfully translated again when asked, then again with expletive, "Words that can be used when angry, being playful or simply being in pain."
Well, Talla did want to take every advantage on the battlefield, which is the only reason she relented. Wrecker didn't mind though, as long as she didn't stay lookin' like a reg!
It took thirty minutes to paint all her armor charcoal black, but by then Talla still had no idea how to make it 'badass!'
"I know there has to be a ninety-nine on the pauldrons to show my division, but I really don't know how to make it 'kriffing badass!'" She lamented, and Crosshair snickered at her very first attempt at using cuss words which earned him a shove on the shoulder from his Sergeant, but the sniper couldn't help it - she tried appearing angrier by using such strong language, but instead it was just a pitifully cute attempt. "I'm not used to expressing myself because there's nothing to express! I'm a clone, I'm not meant to be unique, I'm meant to just follow orders and fight droids!"
These words once again made her squad ill at ease, but Tech saved the day by suggesting she use his datapad. "I have images of decorated armor from different clone troopers all over the galaxy - perhaps you will find some inspiration from those?" He offered... as if taking candid shots of his brothers was just the most normal thing to do.
Talla, despite still being very innocent, wasn't so sure about that. "Do these clones know that you have pictures of them?"
Tech nonchalantly opened the file that had thousands of detailed images of colorful, intricate, very personal armor decor. "No."
Talla gaped in concern, then looked to the Sergeant for reassurance that this was all another joke because this just seemed... wrong.
He merely shrugged, disregarding his brother's impropriety, "He records everything - it's a hobby."
That... really doesn't make me feel any better.
Tech dragged his chair up to her bed and happily handed her the datapad, and with the feeling like she was invading her fellow soldier's privacy she flipped through various images. But soon, that unease was replaced by an unfamiliar sensation coursing through her veins, a good feeling - creativity.
She was inspired!
Two and a half hours later her armor was complete with the help of Wrecker and even Hunter! who turned out to have an artist's hand and created a beautiful depiction on the back of her armor, and she was quite happy with how it turned out and ended up learning another very important lesson about being a clone soldier - you didn't have to stick to the status quo of just being mindless carbon copies of a genetic template the Kaminoans created you to be. They, clones, were also people, just like Hunter said, with the right to decorate themselves in whatever way they wanted, which is one of the few freedoms they had to be brutally honest. But that was just an unnecessary detail.
And, she learned it felt really good to be unique, getting quite a rush out of doing something outside the parameters set for her, and obviously the Bad Batch were the perfect ones to encourage and teach her such liberal thinking. And another thing she realized, this was really the first time her and the boys spent quality time together, and it felt... nice. It gave her a warm feeling in her chest that ended up tingling something in the back of her mind, as if maybe she had felt this way before, but nothing came to the forefront. While Crosshair was still 'salty,' even while he was silent, his face very expressive she focused on the fact that the other three were really trying to make her feel welcome and seemed to mean it.
So Talla used this time to ask a bunch of questions whirling around in her mind since the moment she had joined them.
"Why 'The Bad Batch?'"
"What does 'brother' mean?"
"What does 'kriff' mean?"
You can obviously guess the exact moment in which Crosshair decided to enthusiastically break his vow of salty silence and being across the room from him, Hunter couldn't launch himself at the sniper fast enough before he (despite only having like, three seconds) painted a very detailed picture for the definition of said vulgar word to the innocent young woman. Well, more innocent than young because she was, after all, physically and mentally twenty years old but still, Hunter had found her innocence a breath of fresh air after living with the filthy minded Crosshair and significantly-less-but-still-so Wrecker.
(Brief A/N: May I just clarify - there's no REAL textbook definition of the Star Wars cuss word kriff, but I find it on the same radar as the F-word and well... that word can have multiple meanings, some more graphic than others. And let's be honest, Cross would probably be the most vulgar of probably ALL the clones in existence)
Anyways, Wrecker answered the questions he could, and Crosshair of course, wanting to be 'helpful' gave his exuberant two creds, then Tech and Hunter would share responsibility of answering the heavier ones.
"What causes sensory overloads?"
"Why were your physical appearances altered by the enhancements?"
"Why do you hate outsiders?"
Just as Wrecker finished packing the painting supplies at exactly 1300, the clone medic came in and told her it was time to prep her for the cybernetics procedure.
She felt a knot in her stomach at the thought of having to be put under anesthetics - needles *shudder* - and then being implanted with metal and wires and other various pieces of technology, but Wrecker gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze with his massive - but comforting - hand, and told her that everything would be fine, and 'How jealous he was that she was gonna be a cyborg!' which did ease her anxiety some. Crosshair remained in his chair, deciding he didn't want to be 'helpful' anymore while Hunter gave her an encouraging nod and Tech patted her hand before she was wheeled away in the wheelchair.
(Six hours later)
Talla's eyelids felt like they weighed ten thousand pounds when she tried opening them, as she was incredibly groggy from the anesthetics. When she finally succeeded and her other senses awakened, she felt a breathing mask on her face again and her throat was oddly sore, but she didn't panic as through the dense fog in her brain she remembered she was in the medcenter and not a lab, and just had surgery.
The deep breath she took in was magnified by the mask, and slowly she flopped her head to the left, and through the haze still recognized her hospital room, and four blurry figures that each had their own unique physique.
"She's awake." Talla heard Hunter announce in relief, though it sounded slightly distorted, and the Bad Batch - minus Crosshair - were immediately at her side.
"How ya feeling, Talla?" Wrecker asked softly down at her, trying to contain his massive cheerfulness at her returning to the land of the living so he wouldn't overwhelm her. Tech made sure to make him aware of his loud tone that could do so.
The loopy woman blinked lazily. "Who's Talla?" She asked confusedly, though a little bit slurred due to the mask and anesthetics.
Wrecker couldn't help but bark a laugh. "You are, duh!"
It took a couple of seconds for that to register in her groggy mind. "Oh." There was several seconds of awkward silence as they didn't really know what to say or do around a person who was still pretty out of it. "My leg feels weird." She mumbled after a while, again it was slurred though, and a crease appeared on her forehead as the strange cool sensation on her lower left leg made its presence known more and more after every passing minute.
"You've been given cybernetics." Hunter gently reminded her, then startled at the capability he apparently had to do that with his voice.
"You're a cyborg now!" Wrecker said excitedly, then was shushed by Tech and became sheepish, "Sorry." He whispered.
Talla slowly nodded as flashes of what had happened the last few days came, then felt like she was suffocating with the mask on and clumsily tried taking it off. Hunter, who was closest, delicately took over when she failed, and she gave him a lazy smile in thanks when her face was freed. "How long have I been under?" She asked hoarsely.
"Five hours, thirty-eight minutes, fifty-two seconds." Tech stated after looking down at the timer on his datapad where he apparently recorded everything.
For the next half hour or so everyone waited around for the new cyborg to be released from the effects of the anesthesia, and when she was finally coherent enough to try and sit up with the help of Wrecker, she apologized for them having to wait around for six hours.
"Five hours, thirty-eight minutes, fifty-two seconds." Repeated Tech as if the universe would explode if they didn't get this detail right, "And we didn't, we explored the surrounding area around the medcenter and took in the sights." Tech disclosed bluntly. "Well, Crosshair, Wrecker and I did - Hunter actually stood on the outside of the operation room viewport the whole time to observe the procedure and make sure you would be alright, then never left your side once you were transferred back to your room."
Talla gave the brainy clone a toothy grin while Hunter found himself, to his major embarrassment and confusion, become sheepishly ruddy faced. "You can't ever keep information to yourself, can you?" She teased Tech lightheartedly, though was deeply touched that the Sergeant stayed and she showed him her appreciation at his kindness through another genuine smile, but this only made him blush even more, so he tried to just shrug it off like his not leaving her side was no big deal.
What the hell? Get a hold of yourself, Sergeant, it's completely normal as the leader to make sure your squad is okay! No reason to get all embarrassed -
But what if she thinks it's weird?
She's not! But even if she does, so what? Leaders watch over those entrusted into their authority. Nothing weird about that. Why do you care what she thinks?
Taking a breath to steady herself, Talla finally lifted the sheet covering herself to behold her new leg, and Hunter was shaken out of his strange, self-conscious trance as she gasped when what seemed like a regular leg-foot was where her droid leg-foot should be. "I... MY FOOT GREW BACK?!" She exclaimed in shock, causing Crosshair, who was hunched in a chair in the corner, to face palm, but she ignored this and tried wiggling her toes. They did!
Tech held up his signature pointer finger that signaled the start of a TECH-TALK. "Actually, your cybernetics have been covered with synthflesh to emulate actual organic tissue."
She shook her head as she recalled Nala Se had approved the use of the artificial technology so her body would appear unblemished. "Right! That makes more sense. But it feels like a regular foot!"
"That's because prosthetic replacements are connected to organic tissue via a complex synth-net neural interface -" Tech reached out and carefully took off the cover of her leg without asking which revealed the inner workings of her new limb, "- which provides you with sensation and control." He explained.
She became overwhelmed at the sight of the hundreds of tiny wires and parts, which Tech noticed. "Don't worry," He snapped the cover of her leg shut again... which was such an odd concept, "These past five days I have been collecting data from the medcenter on how to maintain cybernetics, and will teach you everything I have learned."
Hunter suddenly cleared his throat when a young togruta entered the room. "Uh, you've got a visitor, Talla."
Ahsoka appeared by Talla's beside, and Clone Agent beamed while the others left to give them privacy, Hunter having a slight hesitation to do so. "It's good to see you, Commander Tano."
"It's good to see you too." Ahsoka responded genuinely, putting a hand on her shoulder in greeting, but her smile didn't reach her eyes and even in her still slightly groggy state Talla sensed that something was off.
"Is everything alright, sir?" She asked in concern.
Ahsoka's smile faltered, but she tried to cover up with a convincing, "Everything is fine."
"No there is something wrong, I can sense it." Talla pushed. "Has something bad happened?"
Ahsoka kept trying to keep a happy face on, but then gave up and sighed heavily, dropping her hand from Talla's shoulder to fiddle with the edge of her wrist gauntlet uneasily. "Last night, when we were walking back to the temple after visiting you, we were attacked by a sniper. He frustratingly evaded capture, but that's not the worst part: he took out General Kenobi."
Talla's eyes widened. "General Kenobi is... dead?"
Ahsoka nodded grimly, and Talla saw the pain in her features, causing her to feel anxious. She'd never been taught how to deal with sadness in another individual, and obviously not how to comfort them. She stared wide eyed at Ahsoka's saddened form for a moment, the gears turning in her head.
When I was in distress, Tech and Ahsoka offered to help me because they are my friends. Her mind recalled.
Talla tentatively put a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder, having received physical reassurance but never giving it before. "What can I do to help with your pain?" She wondered softly, hoping those were the right words to say.
To her great relief, a ghost of a smile came to Ahsoka's face. "The funeral is the evening after the next, at the Jedi Temple. If you're able to I'd like you to come - my other friend, Barriss, isn't able to, and I'd really like a companion... These sorts of things are hard."
Talla felt honored that Ahsoka wanted her to come, even if she was the second choice - she was happy to be considered at all! "I may not have known General Kenobi long, but he was kind to me even when I made a mistake, so I'll be happy to go and pay my respects to him. I'll ask the medic assigned to me if I can go."
