Synopsis - A Man from our reality with decent knowledge of Star Wars is inserted as Nub at the Rishi Moon Outpost. Having only seen the movies and armed only with the knowledge his new body has, he's in for a world of hurt.

Oh, and he returns by death.


5 days after awakening in a fictional universe.

The fictional world of Star Wars was not where someone would expect to find themself after drinking themself into a drunken stupor. The former Earthling now in the body of CT-432 under the charitable nickname 'Nub' short for Non-Useful-Body, expected to wake up on the curb or if a friend was a real brother, driven home to awake in a vomit-filled bed.

No, the former Earthling soon realised he'd woken up on a desolate moonish asteroid. With Nubs' memories having quickly flashed into his mind upon awakening, he'd also understood where and what he was.

Whatever being that had inserted him into this previously fictional universe, had cruelly severed any attachment he had to his old world, leaving only impersonal knowledge.

Such as the Star Wars movies he'd watched a long time ago, pun intended. He never was a particularly die-hard fan. If anything, he'd only watched it because it was on his movie bucket list that he'd endeavoured to complete.

The Godfather, Shawshank Redemption, Django and more were devoured with eagerness, trying to cram as much as entertainment as possible before his inevitable demise.

Okay, okay, he's being a bit dramatic, still, it was his foremost motivation when writing down the bucket list of movies.

He wasn't dying of cancer or the like, the me of then was dying like anyone else, slowly but surely biologically.

So living life a bit more la vida loca only made sense when the noose was going to be tied either way, right?

Right.

Anyhow, suddenly waking up in the body of a fictional character, a military goon of a Sci-Fi universe he wasn't very versed in wasn't the worst fate, but definitely not the best either.

Learning the intricacy of clone training and upbringing through the muted memories of the now deceased 'Nub', with the context gained by the twentieth century allowed for a far more opinionated opinion of how clones are raised.

Getting a new life, and learning he was only going to be able to experience half of a normal human's lifespan due to accelerated ageing was a real bummer.

Not to mention the abysmal survival rates of clones in active war zones. Luckily Nub had won the lottery due to his incompetency. Because of his barely passed test scores back in Kamino, he was relegated to a backwater outpost and while the outpost was important, the chance of being attacked was close to zero.

Far from the frontlines, far from harm, far from the creature comforts he was used to.

Forget feeling the relaxing warm water of a glorious shower, instead, he'd get air blasted from all sides by a sonic shower.

It just wasn't the same, its efficacy was lower too, no matter what Echo said on the contrary.

Placebo this, placebo that, You haven't even used a sanisteam Nub, how would you know the difference? Pssh, if anything it only made Nub pity Echo, his chances of enjoying a relaxing shower before dying on the battlefield were low. But if the opportunity presents, well a brotha gotta help a brotha, y'know what I'm saying?

Since this was a fictional world before he got transmigrated, inserted, whatever-grated-inserted. Don't look at him; he wasn't versed in the proper terminology used by those escapist nerds.

Well, since he abruptly possessed the poor clone, and found out things weren't so fictional anymore, he'd come to realise that the words shower, bathroom, and swear words like fuck, fucking and fucker had changed to sanisteam, refresher, kriff, kriffing, and kriffer.

From a meta-perspective, changing out the swear words was probably the corpos initiative to get a lower maturity rating, while the other was likely done by the fans or writers to flesh out the setting and to really show that it was a wholly different world, galaxy, whatever.

'Course, on one side, sounds very silly, on the other, he could dig it, memories provided by Nub probably helped him embrace the slang. Had to get down in the hood with the folks of this verse after all.

Can't be saying, ayo these clankers real fools, fr fr, no cap, those clanky droids from the Separatists ain't nothin' but scrap metal with a bad attitude on god.

Not that he spoke like that in his previous life, but when you've gotta blend in, laying it on a little thick can sometimes be better than doing the opposite. Actually, now that he thinks about it, it's probably the opposite, ain't it?

Well, it's a work in progress. Gotta be patient and all that.

So yeah, new lease on life, problem is, Nub was stuck on an outpost in the middle of nowhere, with no way out, and if he ever tried to leave the GAR, he'd get hunted down by the rumoured clone killer battalion that hunted down deserting clones. Not cool, and not very humane of the Republic. Then again they were employing ten to thirteen-year-olds to fight a war against unfeeling tinnies.

Expecting humane treatment and fair pay was kinda dumb considering that context.

Still, not even a single credit per month? Nub wasn't sure what clones were considered in the eyes of the republic's judicial system, but he doubted they were even classified as people.

No pay, child soldiers, and with no way of leaving the army without being hunted down for the rest of his life. It was telling that he was up shit creek without a paddle.

Add that onto a pile of indoctrination and you've got an army of completely loyal expendable troopers.

Nub's best bet was to ride out the war at this outpost and when it finished, enrol in the retirement program and get the hell out of dodge from any authority.

Problem was, he didn't know how long the Clone Wars lasted, and he wasn't going to waste away for years on this desolate rock.

Naturally, he'd need a plan, and he had a very cunning one indeed.

For you see, O'Niner, our sergeant, had told us that an inspection team was coming to give an inspection of the outpost in five rotations. While they were inspecting the outpost Nub would hijack their ship and pilot it, then engage the hyperdrive thus beginning his life on the run.

There was only one problem in his master plan…

He did not have a kriffing idea how to fly a spacecraft.

So, he'd have to improvise, no biggie, he'll manage.

Soon the name of the Nubster would be known across the galaxy as the greatest clone pilot, nay, the greatest pilot in the history of the known universe!

Hevy, who'd been watching Nub in his peripheral vision making a constipated expression at a wall for the last hour, decided it was time to give his brother a knock on the noggin. Approaching with a playful grin, Hevy raised his hand and gave Nubster a light but friendly bonk on the head, snapping him back to reality. "Hey, Nub, I know you've been a bit touched in the head the last few days, but that doesn't mean you've gotta imitate a tinnie," Hevy teased, earning a chuckle from Droidbait and Fives who'd been eavesdropping.

"Yeah, yeah," Nub grumbled. Hevys expression grew sympathetic, "Cheer up brother, I'm the first to say Kriff to staying in this outpost instead of the frontlines, but you gotta at least pretend to be pleased, otherwise if O'Niner gets catch of it, you'd be looking at double observation duty." Heavy consoled Nub, partially misunderstanding his displeasure.

"I get it, I get it," Nubs muttered irritably, Hevy, satisfied that he had successfully conveyed his message, couldn't resist giving Nubs another light slap on the back of his head.

Nubs winced at the unexpected contact, shooting Hevy a glare before rubbing the back of his head. "You didn't have to do that," he grumbled, his annoyance evident in his tone.

Hevy, unfazed by Nubs' irritation, grinned and patted him on the shoulder. "Just making sure you're paying attention, Nubs," he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. He then sauntered over to where Droidbait and Fives were sitting, taking a seat beside them.

Droidbait chuckled as he watched the interaction. "Hevy's always got a unique way of getting his point across," he remarked.

Fives nodded in agreement, a mischievous glint in his eye. "At least he keeps things interesting," he quipped, casting a teasing glance in Nubs' direction.

Right where was he, oh yeah, becoming the best pilot that ever piloted, Nub wasn't entirely sure how to accomplish that. He had the training of a ground pounder, a poor one at that, so it was clear he'd need a teacher but nobody on the outpost had a clue how to pilot aircraft. And he didn't want to spend his limited life studying pilotery at some academy.

Is pilotery a word? Nub wasn't sure, but it didn't matter, all those strategic eggheads of history had all these flowery quotes, and one of 'em had to say, in other words, "Just do it!" Such masterminds would surpass any academy teacher.

Luckily they did have datapads that could access the holonet, and weren't that doozy. It was like going back to the 90s with dial-up internet while at the same time being as advanced if not more than the modern times.

Having taken his personal datapad into his hands, Nub had researched inspirational quotes to really get the creative juices flowin'.

Looking for the one most closely related to his plight, he found a relatively fitting one, "The path to strategic genius often begins with the realisation that sometimes the best way to learn is to roll up your sleeves and do it yourself. Theory and observation can only take you so far; true mastery comes from hands-on experience, the crucible of trial and error."

See? This meant Nub was on the right path! A reassuring sense of validation washed over him. If a genius endorsed the value of experiential learning, then Nub's chosen course of action could only be seen as a deliberate step towards genius-level strategy.

Nub nodded to himself, quietly uttering yup-yup under his breath, and tried his own gander at making a similar insightful quote, "A flaw unseen is a flaw that can be ignored."

Yeah, he was screwed, wasn't he?

A distorted voice spoke up at the table behind him, "What're you yapping 'bout now Nub?" Nub, having been disrupted from his musings once again, turned around in his squatting position, having sat like a gopnik the entire time.

Having turned around, He observed that both Hevy and Fives had left the room, only Droidbait was left. Droidbait was reclining on a chair with both legs on the table, teetering dangerously on the edge but miraculously managing to maintain balance. He held a ration bar in one hand that had a small indentation, the tasteless gunk moulded into a straw-like shape.

Nub locked eyes with Droidbaits expectant stare, and while doing so, Droidbait took a large bite out of the ration straw. Slowly chewing, unblinking, while staring at him.

Nub moved into an athlete's sprint position, to Droidbait's bemusement, raising one of his eyebrows. When Nub finished setting his stance, Droidbaits eyes widened in realisation, moving to scramble up from his inflexible posture, alas he was too late.

With a deer in headlights look, he could only watch in futility as Nub neared, his attempts at getting up from the precariously placed chair unsuccessful.

Nub sprang forward with a final burst of speed, charging Droidbait with the intention of a full-on tackle. As they collided, Nub's head hit Droidbait's armoured torso like a rhinoceros charging at full speed. Bits of chewed ration bar and spit flew from Droidbait's mouth at impact. Nub's weight and speed forced Droidbait's chair to tilt backwards uncontrollably, his momentum giving the death knell to the already unbalanced chair. With the added weight of Nub, it was a slow-motion catastrophe as the chair toppled over, taking both Nub and Droidbait down with it. They crashed onto the floor with a cacophonous clatter, one with a determined scowl and the other with a startled yelp.

In the aftermath of the fall, Nub, however, managed to pin Droidbait beneath him, legs straddling his fallen comrade, he triumphantly raised Droidbait's half-eaten ration bar high above his head. "To the victor goes the spoils!" Nub declared with a grin.

Droidbait, clearly frustrated and massaging the back of his head, retorted, "You damn gonk."

Nub, looking down at Droidbait, maintained his smug smile until O'Niner and Hevy burst into the room, disrupting the scene.

"What the hell is all this racket!" O'Niner bellowed, taking in the scene, having heard Nubs' shout, he understood enough to dole out punishment immediately.

"Neither of you are winning anything," O'Niner barked sternly, his voice cutting through the room like a blaster shot. "No rations for a day starting tomorrow, and the both of you are on observation duty for the next two days!"

Nub and Droidbait, still in their awkward position on the ground, exchanged horrified glances while slowly turning their heads toward O'Niner.

"I'll expect you on deck at oh six hundred tomorrow, no funny business, got it?" O'Niner quickly continued, his gaze unwavering.

Two despondent "yes sirs" was his answer.

"I can't hear you, maggots!" O'Niner's voice boomed again. "I'll be expecting you on deck at oh six hundred, Is that understood?"

Nub and Droidbait scrambled to their feet and snapped into parade rest, training kicking in as both offered a sharp salute. Nub's half-eaten ration bar held aloft in the saluting arm, while the both of them exclaimed, "Sir, yes sir!"

O'Niner gave them a cursory inspection, lingering on the ration bar in Nub's hand before shaking his head and leaving the room just as quickly as he arrived, the door closing behind him with a swoosh.

Nub, Droidbait and Hevy, all waited in silence until they were sure O'Niner was gone.

When they were confident that he had left, Droidbat slapped Nub on the back of his head, "You damn kriffing gonk! Now we're on observation duty for two days!"

Rubbing the back of his head, Nub retorted, "How was I supposed to know O'Niner was right behind the door?"

Hevy, who had remained silent until now, burst into laughter. "Behind the door? We were in the next room over; the clamour was so loud Sarge thought we had intruders for a second."

Droidbait chimed in, "What was that for, anyway? It's not like we're rationing; we've got plenty to last us years."

Nub put two fingers to his face in a thinking pose before saying, "It was the mocking look you gave me, I couldn't let it slide without sufficient reprisal."

Hevy and Droidbait shared a look, before the both of them shrugged, "Well, I suppose that's what I should expect." Droidbait sighed, before saying "I'm off to get another ration stick." With that statement he gave a parting nod to Hevy before stopping at the threshold of the door, looking back at Nub he said, "And this ration stick you won't be stealing unless you want to get fed to those giant eels." Droidbait warned, one finger pointed at Nub like a blaster.

Nub raised both of his hands in surrender, "I won't, you've got my brotherly word."

Droidbait gave Nub a final look, before leaving the room with a swoosh.

"I told you not to upset O'Niner with any of your shenanigans," Hevy remarked.

"Some things are inevitable." Nub sagely replied.

Hevy gave an exasperated sigh, "Right, well, at least leave us others out of it yeah? Droidbait has to bite the blaster bolt because of you now."

Nub's mouth pressed into a faint grimace, "Yeah, my bad."

Hevy cracked a small smile at that, "See brother, you can learn after all."

"What can I say Hevy, I'm full of surprises."

"Both good and bad ones," Hevy remarked, while idly scratching his stubble. "Well, It's time for me to relieve Cutup of sentry duty. Keep yourself out of trouble Nub."

"I will brother," Nub replied.

Hevy took a step forward and clasped his hand firmly on Nub's shoulder, "See that you do." He said with fraternal concern, before taking his leave, and with Hevys departure Nub became the sole occupant of the recreational room.

As Nub gazed at the exit door, only one thought went through his mind. I really should wear my helmet more, since clones seem to be slapped by their brothers twenty-four-seven.


2 days until the arrival of the inspection team

He now understood why clones remove their helmets at the first opportunity. Sure, through the memories of Nub, he'd gotten the reason, but the practical experience of putting on the helmet and actually feeling the discomfort was different.

Oh, it wasn't super uncomfortable, but it was off in a way you couldn't really explain easily. A byproduct of a design made by another species for humans. Add that to the fact that the species who created the armour don't really care for the clones' comfort since they consider us a product and you've got the Phase 1 clone armour.

Though the helmet was by far the worst part of the ensemble.

The overall visibility provided by the helmet was better than what the outside would suggest, it still hindered his range of vision by about 50% percent when wearing it, but made up for it with an advanced HUD and additional protection. The HUD helped identify targets, small red triangles appearing around potential enemies when detected by the helmet's facial recognitioning, along an ammo counter.

Automatic glare and UV protection to protect the occupant's eyes from flashbangs and massive explosions was also a neat feature.

Though arguably it was barebones compared to the more advanced Sci-Fi helmets he knew of.

Then again this equipment was meant for the ground pounder fodder, it wasn't supposed to have a bunch of fancy gadgets, it only needed to be cost-effective.

Still, it beat most PDF forces equipment-handedly, going by what he'd seen from 'A New Hope'. It really was an odd design for a helmet, like an elongated bicycle helmet with no protection for the equipped trooper's lower face.

Though looking at the design objectively, it did offer full protection of everything above the rebel troopers' eyes, with partial protection by the ears. It even offered a limited degree of neck protection, though arguably the neck protection only seemed viable when the user was crouched or prone.

Now Nub wasn't an expert, but the rebel marine helmets overall coverage percentage-wise was probably comparable to the Stahlhelm, that's not to say that the M1 couldn't have been the inspiration, but it was obvious that the movie makers had taken inspiration from old world war one and two helmets, taking them as a template and then Sci-Fiyng the Stahlhelm to fit in, or M1, it made little difference.

Not to mention how heavy and cumbersome a helmet designed like that was bound to be, additionally lacking a chinstrap wasn't doing it any favours either.

Now this subject was irrelevant to his current predicament, but Nub found that the Rishi Moon Outpost allowed for generous amounts of free time. With very little to occupy his attention, he had to find other alternatives for entertainment.

Case in point, arguing with himself over discrepancies in the previously fictional galaxy he found himself in. For example, his helmet pondering, or another example, the exposed bridges of venators.

Only to name a few, of course.

Having endured his final day of observation duty yesterday, he was now free to look at something other than a grainy security camera while listening to whatever propaganda the republic broadcast was peddling at the time.

This free time amounted to vainly trying to learn how to pilot an aircraft using the limited holonet while enduring friendly ribbing by his fellow brothers.

Nub had even been roped into a wargame training exercise with their blasters set to stun.

"Alright, you know how it works, blasters to stun, first to completely eliminate the other team or hold the observation room for fifteen standard minutes wins," O'Niner explained.

Those taking part in this abrupt exercise were Hevy, Fives, Droidbait, Spotter, Nub and Cutup. O'Niner was the judge, while poor Echo had to sit this one out because somebody needed to do Sentry duty at all times according to protocol, which seemed to suit Echo just fine.

"I have enough trust in everyone's aim that any mishaps like firing a stun into the hyper-transceiver won't be repeated," O'Niner stressing the word trust while glaring at the assembled clones. The subtle wince of Spotter, the only tell that could indicate who the culprit of that incident was…

"Only DC-15S are allowed, no rotaries or 15a - I'm looking at you Hevy. Nor any thermal detonators, that includes droid poppers." O'Niner this time gave Fives a flinty stare while Hevy grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "hardass" before O'Niner proceeded with the instructions. "Three versus three, Team one is as follows: Cutup, Nub, Droidbait. Team 2, Heavy, Spotter, Fives."

"Work together as a team; you're all equals, so find a strategy that works for all of you. There is no commanding officer telling you what to do; rely on each other, and you'll win. Go to your respective starting points. When the alarm blares, the wargame officially begins," O'Niner finished, the last piece of advice, something he'd always say when initiating these ad-hoc wargames according to Nubs memories.

A hand landed on Nub's shoulder. Turning his head he was met with Cutup's customary mocking grin, by Cutup's left shoulder was Droidbait who was similarly trapped.

"Well boys, let's walk and talk." Nub and Droidbait were obediently led out of the observational room and towards the far left of the outpost where their barracks were and also one of the start points.

As they walked towards their destination Cutup spoke up, his hands still on both of your shoulders. "Now not to offend, but neither of you are known for your," Cutup paused, smacking his lips, searching for a diplomatic word to describe their less-than-impressive combat skills."Adept handling of everything combat-related, now it's all relative of course. But I do consider myself the foremost fighter within our," Cutup wetted his lips, "Poose, so naturally the clone in question with the best scores should lead, merit after all trumps everything, no?" Cutup finalised with a satisfied smile, pushing the both of you closer to him, positively beaming with pride.

Nub and Droidbait exchanged glances, a silent communication of which both of them understood.

With the glances exchanged the two scorned brothers used their free hand in a martial arts manoeuvre specifically created for use against those that could hold the title of brother.

Two meaty smacks smashed into the back of Cutup's helmet, while under his helmet his eyes widened in comical betrayal, as his feet lost footing.

Understanding his incoming fate, he latched onto the shoulders of the perpetrators, alas the attempt was in vain.

The two traitors already expecting such a response had already relieved their shoulders of the betrayed ones' hands during the chaos.

So it was with a solemn silent breath he accepted the inevitable. Without his hands to brace against the impact, Cutup's torso met the ground first with an undignified thud before his visor faced the same fate.

With a quiet oomph, he lay there betrayed.

Still sprawled on the ground with his visor intimately kissing the floor, Cutup spoke up with a clear undertone of humour, "I was wondering how long you'd allow me to keep codding ya."

"Get up Cutup, before the start signal blares and we're labelled cheaters," Droidbait said tiredly.

Cutup hastily pushed himself upright, no sign of injury besides some minor space dust now dirtying his helmet. "Already knackered after some ol' fashioned banter, gotta steel those nerves Droidbait or this wargame is gonna get messy." His Irish dialect so clear Nub once again had to take a double-take.

The one-time Nub had asked Cutup about his dialect, he had just shrugged and said Had a mutation in my vocal cords apparently, not enough to scrap me since it didn't affect anything else. After hearing that, Nub hadn't asked again.

It didn't explain his Irish vocabulary, but Nub wasn't interested in investigating more. The kinds of topics that revolved or were related to the 'scrapping' of clones and clone defects were generally considered taboo amongst all clones.

Droidbait checked his blaster for a second before saying,

"Get moving, Bantha fodder." Droidbait, completely done with Cutup's humour, pointed his blaster at the back of Cutup's armoured back and lightly pushed him forwards.

"Alright, kriff, it wasn't that bad, was it?" Cutup looked towards Nub for support but found only an indifferent shrug in response.

Friendly banter was par for the course for clones, the problem was that Cutup hit a sore point of Droidbait. By immediately talking about his superior ability and Droidbaits inferior skill even in jest, was enough for Droidbait to get a bit pissy. Cutup's irreverent attitude didn't do him any favours either.

Both Droidbait and Nub were the bottom of the barrel of their respective squads and therefore the pair of them had cultivated a slight inferiority complex. The adage misery loves company held true in this case as well, with Droidbait and Nub bonding over their shared incompetence. This allowed for an especially fierce comradery between the two.

Past Nub would've grumbled a bit at Cutup's comments as well, but the memories given to the him of now allowed him to remain unfazed.

Speaking up to remove the awkward silence that formed, Nub asked, "What's with the sudden wargame anyway? It wasn't on schedule."

Cutup turned his head towards Nub, "Isn't it obvious? Sarge is in a real tizzy now that the inspection team is coming in two rotations. He wants everything squared away perfectly, that includes our aim." Cutup patted his blaster, "Sarge probably thinks they'll make us do shooting drills or somethin'."

When Cutup's explanation finished, the three of them coincidentally finally arrived at their designated start point.

"Okay, how are we doing this?" Droidbait began to ask, before the alarm blared, interrupting him.

The three clones exchanged baffled looks before Droidbait, letting out a resigned sigh, took the initiative, declaring, "Pfassk it, do whatever you two want. I'm going in!" With that, he sprinted down the corridor they had come from.

Cutup glanced at Nub, offering a parting comment, "Well, good luck little brother." Before dashing towards the left corridor.

Throwing his hands in the air, Nub muttered the iconic line unintentionally "I have a bad feeling about this…" Before sprinting down the same corridor Droidbait took.


With his blaster raised Cutup carefully cleared each corridor, the other team had gotten a head start, and he knew how far you could get before you could meet someone.

Which was why he was so careful now, his internal clock had shifted out of alignment with the abrupt start.

Case in point, as he heard the sound of a stun bolt being released from a blaster, he instinctively jerked back into cover, narrowly avoiding the stun blast.

The blue ring of immobilisation harmlessly flew by him and dissipated on the metal wall behind.

Sliding down the wall he was hugging, he crouched and blindly returned a few stun blasts around the corner.

Immediately he got 2 stun blasts in response.

"Two blasts, same direction, only one trooper," Cutup muttered to himself, assessing the situation.

He blindly fired a few more shots around the corner, with the same result.

"Think Cutup, think." This was a stalemate, with Cutup at the disadvantage. The enemy trooper already had line of sight and without support and explosives, he couldn't expose himself without risk. The corridor the enemy clone was in wasn't flankable either unless he circled the entire compound, which wasn't feasible given the time that had already passed.

Idly adjusting his helmet with one hand, he stilled.

He might just have an idea.

He could remove his helmet and expose it to the trooper, he'd shoot it, and with it, Cutup would swing around the corner and eliminate the bamboozled opponent.

Only problem was how stun blasts functioned, similar to electricity it would flow through the object hit. A lightning bolt if a much more lenient one.

By hitting his helmet, since he would be holding onto it to make it realistic, he'd get a dosage of the stun effect too.

Now theoretically he should be able to withstand the discharge in such a scenario since the majority of the stun effect would dissipate upon contact with the helmet.

After a quick mental calculation, Cutup nodded, it had to be good enough. He'd just have to brace as his nerves locked. Simple, right?

"Okay, here goes nothing." Psyching himself up, he moved the helmet in line of sight.

Almost immediately two stun bolts hit the helmet dead-on, His nerves locked up, but he powered through it, swinging around the corner and levelling his blaster at the now-identified Spotter, who was positioned behind a crate.

Spotter incredulously blurted out a "What-a." As Cutup had a clear shot, he would've fired too, if it weren't for the blaster beside him which was aiming directly toward him at point-blank range.

Slowly turning his head to the person holding a gun to his temple, he saw Hevy and Fives aiming their blasters at him. Beneath their visors, he knew they wore shit-eating grins.

Cutup sighed, "You flanked around the whole outpost…"

"Yup," Hevy confirmed.

"Used Spotter as bait to trap someone in the corridor…"

"Eyup," Hevy confirmed again.

"All so you had the time come from behind…"

Fives gave a thumbs up with his free hand.

"What if we raced towards the observation room and held it? The only place Droidbait and Nub could be is there right now since you cleared the other corridors."

"Banked on you guys splitting up, it'll be three versus two, good odds considering who we're going up against and we'll be coming from the flank," Hevy admitted.

Cutup gave a glance towards Spotter, everyone was still locked in position. He could fire off a bolt and probably get Spotter, the surprise however had dissipated, and stun blasts were slow enough to allow for dodging.

The problem lay with the blaster aimed at his temple. Stun blasts were generally non-lethal, but at point-blank range and aimed at his head, it could even be fatal.

Hevy had him utterly trapped and he knew it.

Seeing Cutup clearly contemplating shooting Spotter, Hevy aggressively growls, "Don't try it…"

With a grim face behind his helmet, he dropped the carbine and raised his arms. "I surrender."

As soon as he said that, the intercom awakened with a chirp before the sergeant's voice rang through the outpost, "Cutup has been eliminated."

With that announcement, he sat down on the ground. Cutup watched Hevy, Fives and Spotter sprint back to the barracks. With one hand on his face, he let out a faint "Good luck boys, you're going to need it." Before laying down prone completely, two hands on the stomach, allowing the adrenaline and stress to wash out of his system.


Moving through the labyrinthine corridors took some time, especially when one had to clear each one for potential threats. Eventually, however, Nub found himself at the observation room's entrance.

Cautiously scanning the room revealed that the only other occupant was O'Niner, who sat by a control station on one of the catwalks.

O'Niner had camera and intercom access up there, and the screens were small enough that his bulk hid the displays from any prying eyes.

The problem was where Droidbait had gone, considering they took the same path, he could've only continued down to the entrance. Before the entrance door, there were two blast doors, at the left and right respectively. One led to the other team's starting point, the recreational room while the other led to the armoury.

Droidbait most likely pressed forward with the intention to flank their opponents, since nobody had taken the path to the observation room besides him. Of course, Nub had taken the same path, if with a slower and more methodical gait, though Droidbait naturally didn't know that. The fact that nobody on the enemy team had taken the main path allowed for the realisation that depending on which corridor the opponents had taken, Cutup might find himself outnumbered, severely.

Either way, Nub only had to worry about his flank now, at least until Droidbait was eliminated. If Droidbait was taken out, things would get more complicated. Until then, however...

Surveying the room, Nub spotted several crates he could use to block the back door. The crates themselves Nub knew contained miscellaneous repair parts for the consoles they used.

Under O'Niners watchful eyes he carefully hauled crate after crate to the back door.

Stacking the crates on top of each other allowed for complete protection of everything below his neck. Only his head was sticking up above the fortification, a formidable advantage and considering that the objective clock was already ticking he was already in a good position to win.

So long as he didn't have to fight three clones alone, as the sheer volume of potential suppressive fire would most likely force him to take cover. Allowing an enemy clone to push forward while the others kept Nub pinned down. Executing a basic manoeuvre they'd learned back in basic supposed to be used when the enemy was outmanned and entrenched.

But surely it wouldn't come to that? Nobody was eliminated yet after all.

Settling the DC-15S on the makeshift barricade made out of black and grey crates he'd repurposed, while staying ready to fire at any hostile clone, he waited.

After a minute, O'Niner spoke up and consequently, the intercom echoed with the sergeant's message.

"Cutup has been eliminated"

Nub winced, his fear had materialised. Cutup most likely engaged in a firefight while outnumbered and alone. Knowing him he probably tried to stall for time but eventually got overrun.

Where Droidbait was in the equation Nub didn't know, but hopefully, he'd deign to appear soon, lest the worst-case scenario come to pass.

Gripping the DC-15S tighter he aimed downrange, Hevy and the rest could come from the left and the right, however, whatever way they took, they still needed to go through this single corridor to enter the observation room. With the time left, they shouldn't be able to go back to their starting point anymore as the objective timer was starting to tick ever closer to Nub's team's victory. So, he could safely bet everything on holding this corridor, come hell, come high water.

Nub flexed his fingers around the trigger, the alert pose he'd taken, straining.

Finally, he heard the sound of plastoid feet running over durasteel.

"Here they come…" Nub whispered.

The stamping abruptly ceased from the right, as they came to the corridor just before the one he had overwatch over.

A clone quickly peeked around the right corner, before just as quickly jerking back, narrowly avoiding a blue stun bolt fired by Nub.

Now they knew about Nub's fortifications, but the question remained: What would they do about it?

Thirty standard seconds went by, no doubt communicating with their helmet's inbuilt close-ranged comlinks to avoid him overhearing.

Unexpectedly one of them suddenly ran toward the other end of the corridor. If he allowed it, they'd be able to shoot him from both sides.

He almost moved to fire upon the trooper, but a niggling thought in the back of his mind stayed Nub's hand.

Instead, he aimed for the right corner while the clone ran to the left, this decision-making taking one second to comprehend and execute.

The reason for this was two-fold, a clone suddenly running in the line of fire without suppressive fire was foolhardy and should only be done if left with absolutely no other option or if the previous cover was inoperable.

Secondly, grabbing his attention like that would make him focus on the easy target and that's when… There!

Two clones, one standing and the other crouching in a tactical formation, enabling both to fire without exposing themselves too much, peeked out slightly from the right and fired where they had seen him last. Expecting the manoeuvre Nub squeezed the trigger once before quickly throwing himself behind cover.

The satisfying pop of a stun blast hitting its mark was his reward, while several stun blasts shot by the enemy flew right above him, right where Nub's head had been.

"Arrgh!" Thud.

The corridor quietened, the metallic battlefield completely frozen.

The scraping of armour on the durasteel floor broke the silence, as whoever he had hit was dragged to cover.

The intercom came alive, "Fives has been eliminated, 2 minutes remaining until team 1 wins by objective."

A curse came from the corridor, before Hevys voice rang out, "Nub, nice shot brother, but this is the end of the line for you. I'll carry you personally to your bunk after I've stunned you!"

A stun blast rang out soon after and a similar thud as before indicated that someone had been blasted, holding his fingers, he hoped Droidbait had come through. The intercom's message however put pain to those thoughts.

"Droidbait has been eliminated."

Damn it Droidbait, He was counting on you!

One versus two, it was… doable.

"How'd you know?" Nub called out.

"He wasn't by you, so he had to be behind us, basic arithmetic brother!" Hevy confidently replied.

Nub recognized the need to lay down suppressive fire; otherwise, they'd quickly overrun him. There wasn't much time left, they had to attack now.

Taking a deep breath, hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline rush, Nub prepared to peek downrange again…

Rising from his crouched position the trooper revealed himself again and tried to aim downrange, while that was the intention, to Nub's surprise, Spotter stood eye to eye with him.

Spotter had quietly advanced up to the makeshift fortifications during Nub's talk with Hevy and had sought to surprise him. Instead, the two of them froze for half a second, locked in a shared moment of shock, before instinctively raising their weapons to fire.

Now in a battle of reflexes, Nub held the advantage as he already had his weapon ready to fire and at the correct height. In a victory of marginals in this instance, Nub would hold the crown.

A stun bolt bloomed at the end of Nubs DC-15S, Spotter having needed to raise his weapon to the correct level was a quarter second late.

Even so, Spotter too managed to pull the trigger just as Nubs blaster fired.

The blue energy ring hit Spotter, causing him to stagger and his shot to go wide; despite this, the deviation his stagger caused and the close quarters allowed for Spotter's bolt to clip Nub's arm.

While Spotter fell down in an ungraceful heap, defeated, Nub's nerves were locked, tazed, he could barely move his hands. The stun effect caused Nub's trigger finger to lock in place. Not able to remove his hand from the blaster, it started to unceasingly fire stun bolts.

Luckily the position he was in allowed for the stun bolts to go downrange, even if it was practically impossible to aim.

Hevy had moved to get a clearer shot that wouldn't result in friendly fire when Spotter tried to ambush Nub. The sudden repositioning however unfortunately put him in the open and exactly where Nub's crosshair was aimed after the debacle, Nub's erratic fire forced Hevy to dodge, but not before he fired a single bolt himself.

Nub in a desperate attempt awkwardly lunged to the side as Hevy's stun bolt barreled towards him,

It was for nought, the stun bolt clipped Nub and with two stuns in his system, even if they merely clipped him, was enough to incapacitate him.

Nub fell unconscious just as the intercom activated for the final time.


1 standard hour later

"Urrghh.. My head… Dad, I need some aspirin stat."

An exasperated half-chuckle was the response "I'm not your so-called dad Nub, the only one that could be classified as such is our template." The unmistakably righteous and matter-of-fact tone could only belong to Echo.

As the fog of unconsciousness lifted, he blinked rapidly in an attempt to get the spots out of his eyes. After doing so Nub took in his surroundings, he was resting on a bed in the barracks.

Reading a datapad on a bunk to the side of him, undoubtedly containing protocols, was Echo.

Sitting with perfect posture, he was currently giving Nub a raised eyebrow.

He groaned, "Ignore that, what happened?"

"I assume you're referring to the wargame? I was on sentry duty but I did hear that Team One won by objective completion, a near thing too, according to Hevy." Echo gave him a pointed look, "He was the one who carried you, he insisted that I relay that to you for whatever reason."

For some reason, he found that very funny, as Nub devolved into snickering, until the snickering evolved to chuckles, finally transforming to full-blown laughter.

Echo allowed himself a chuckle too even if didn't understand what was funny. Laughter was infectious after all. "Well done in winning the wargame, I wouldn't have bet on your team." Echo tried to stifle Nubs now concerning level of laughter with praise and succeeded.

"Y-yeah, thanks Echo." Rubbing his eyes to remove the tears that had gathered during the laughter he thanked Echo sincerely.

Calming down, he stared at the ceiling of the bunk he occupied, suddenly in an introspective mood.

He'd manage to win even if he didn't eliminate all of them, that was, nice, Nub decided.

He knew he'd been stressed this entire time, awakening to a new world, having to leave everything he had before behind, with new memories and impulses.

It was strange, the impersonal feelings ensured he wouldn't have any thoughts about going back or get crippling depression due to the people he lost.

But… Even so, the sheer amount of memories had overwhelmed him, if subtly, it was a level of stress he hadn't been able to relieve. Until now…

That wargame, the feeling of success, of victory…

It felt good, real good.

It was like he had purpose, something to strive for, an ambition.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, he'd admit to himself, was when he felt the most alive.

Was he becoming an adrenaline junky, or worse yet a battle-junky?

Nub didn't know, but for once in his life, it felt like he knew where he stood in the world.

And he wanted to rise higher.


Day of the inspection

After the wargame, O'Niner dutifully went through their usual aftermath routine, offering critiques and pointing out their tactical errors, while also giving out intermittent advice. Who would've thought that splitting up in a three versus three was a bad idea?

Nub's team received a fair share of criticism for their abysmal planning and predictable flanking manoeuvres. Cutup faced reprimand for his lone-wolf approach, as did Droidbait. In stark contrast, the only one to receive praise on team 1 was Nub himself, commended for his creative defence of the victory objective.

Team Hevy, however, was not exempt from criticism as Nub initially thought. Their strategy had allowed Team 1 too much time to fortify their positions around the victory objective, which led to a light admonishment from O'Niner.

Spotter was recognized for adhering to the strategy devised by Hevy to the letter, even though his attempt at a sneaky approach at the end fell just short.

Fives, oddly enough, neither faced scolding nor praise. Nub assumed it was because Fives didn't really get to do much of note, and it wasn't Fives fault that he was the one to go down in the hallway trick.

Hevy was praised for strategic thinking on three accounts, even if one plan was recognized, the other only a partial success and the final one fully succeeding.

With the post-wargame briefing concluded, Hevy told Nub that his last shot had grazed him, barely.

It only had him stunned for a second, but had Nub not gotten clipped, he might've been able to capitalise on it.

The point was moot anyway, Nub would've won by the objective timer anyway, but it was nice to know.

After the wargame excitement, life at the outpost settled back into its usual routine. Well, besides the large amount of scrubbing to ensure the outpost was, according to O'Niner "So polished that the officers can shave while looking at the durasteel."

Finally, the day of the inspection arrived. We were all gathered in the observation room except Sarge, Spotter and Echo. Spotter had Sentry duty, while the Sergeant would likely sequester himself in his personal quarters until the inspection team arrived.

Echo in the meantime had left to go to the refresher.

Hevy should've been on observational duty but was instead arm wrestling Cutup.

Droidbait worked on resolving an electrical issue at his console, while Nub was looking over the life support system.

Fives was pretending to work while watching Hevy and Cutups arm-wrestling.

Meanwhile, the Republic broadcast droned on in the background, serving as a backdrop, a normal day at the outpost, if not for the incoming inspection.

"This is the deck officer checking in, nothing going as usual." That was Spotter doing the routine check-in.

"You're listening to the grand army of the Republic broadcast, the voice of the outer rim,"

As the Republic broadcast continued, the troopers went about their tasks. Nub, having verified that the life support systems were in order, glanced over at the swiftly opening blast doors. Echo, who had returned from his break, was as usual nose down reading regulation manuals.

"This next one goes out to the mudjumpers 224th slugging it out on Mimban,"

The mudjumpers, huh? Doesn't sound like a pleasant legion to be in. Dropping that thought, he looked over at the main console, watching Hevy and Cutups' final effort, the score sitting at 2-2.

"Keep your heads down and your seals tight boys."

With a slam and a whoop, Hevy crowed his victory over Cutup, "Haha, yeah!"

Hevy looked over the room and asked, "Who's next? Fives?"

Echo, ever the stickler for rules, chimed in, "Uh, Shouldn't you be watching your scope, Hevy?"

With feigned enthusiasm, Hevy acquiesced, "Yeah, let's take a look!" Moving over to the camera panel, turning it before remarking "Hmm, what do you know, all clear. Just like the last hundred times I looked at it."

"Personally, I like that it's so quiet up here," Echo tapped his datapad for emphasis, "If I can catch up on the reg manuals."

Disgust clear, Hevy asked "Echo what is wrong with you? We should be out on the frontlines, blasting droids."

Cutup piped up, "Ah, leave him alone, they kept him in his growth jar for too long."

"Yeah, hehehe." Hevy, Fives and Droidbait laughed while Echo appeared genuinely mildly affronted.

"You, uh, may not realise it yet Fives, but you've landed on the most boring post in the Outer Rim.," Hevy said, unaware of the sergeant creeping up behind him. "And one of the most important." O'Niner's voice spoke up, causing Hevy to turn to his right in shock.

Cutup quick on the uptake, immediately pressed the Officer alert, before shouting "Attention, sergeant-on-deck!" Making everyone rise to attention.

"At ease, even though you're all new here, I shouldn't have to remind you that this quadrant is key to the outer rim." As O'Niner talked he circled all of us "If the droids get past this station they can surprise attack their facilities we were born on, our homeworld of Kamino. There's some officers on the way, as you know, so I want everything squared away for inspection, understood?"

"""SIR YES SIR"""

As the acknowledgements finished, an alert alarm blared from Fives station.

Turning around, he saw incoming meteors on his display. "Sir, incoming meteor shower."

"Raise the shield," Sarge commanded.

"You wanted excitement Hevy," Cutup remarked.

"Right," Hevy said, before sarcastically muttering under his breath "Oooh, meteor shower."

Meteor showers weren't a daily occurrence, but they weren't entirely uncommon either. The troopers knew the drill—raise the shield and brace for impact. Nub held on to his console as the impacts made the outpost tremble. After the short earthquake, he regained his footing.


Outside, Spotter was silently grateful for the deployable shield that surrounded even the deck outside, since otherwise he would've been pasted.

Looking over the outpost for a minute, he didn't see any damage, so he turned around and looked towards where one of the meteors landed, using the external macrobinoculars to zoom in, he saw… Was that a pod of some sort? "What the-?" He began to say before a droid suddenly materialised right in front of him, his tunnel vision preventing him from seeing his attackers until it was too late.

Quickly reeling back, he frantically raised his macrobinoculars up just before a massive shock entered his system, just like during the war game.

But while the wargames stun bolts yields weren't meant to kill, the discharge of electrical energy he received this time was more than enough to kill him thrice over.

With a slump, Spotter fell to the ground, dead.


Nobody thought much of the meteor shower, O'Niner talked with Fives about cleaning the armoury for a minute. After that our sergeant attempted to contact the Sentry, standard protocol, everyone had to check-in after a meteor shower to ensure nobody was hurt.

The tension started when Spotter couldn't be contacted, "CT-237, report in." No response, "Sentry, do you copy?" O'Niner demanded, this time more harshly.

Echo wheeled around in the chair that he had sat down on when the shower started and gave his two cents, "Interference from the meteors?"

Fives immediately countered, "I don't see him down there Sarge."

Understanding that Spotter was missing Nub and Droidbait shared a look and nodded. The both of them rose from their chairs, helmets in hand, ready to check the situation out.

O'Niner, noticing their initiative, ordered, "You two, go find him."

Donning their helmets mid-jog, Nub and Droidbait quickly went down the stairs, heading towards the entrance of the outpost.

However, halfway down, Nub along with Droidbait abruptly halted in their tracks. In front of them, several strange droids had infiltrated the outpost! Droidbait managed to get out a startled "Droids!" Before several blaster bolts found purchase on his armour.

Nub, unarmed and taken by surprise, tried to pedal backwards, in vain. The first red blaster bolt hit him on his shoulder, paralysing his left arm. The second hit him square in the chest, the armour absorbing and dispersing the impact. The third blast hit his torso again. The plastoid chest armour compromised after the first shot, couldn't disperse it entirely, and Nub felt his chest burn, as the sheer searing heat caused immediate severe thermal damage, enough to cause fourth-degree burns. Eyes watering in pain, Nub stood paralyzed unable to even formulate thoughts.

Only his upper arm had been pierced; a massive chunk of his humerus disintegrated.

The final three bolts that hit him, put his brief pain to an end. The first of the last three hits hit his leg, piercing and removing a chunk of his quads. The second was scored on his chest again, the already cracked plastoid plate giving no resistance and the blaster bolt sank in, vaporising a part of Nub's lungs. The second bolt had staggered Nub, allowing for an unarmoured opening between Nub's helmet and his body armour. The last bolt exploited that crevice and punctured straight through Nub's neck.

With a whistling gurgle, he fell down on the ground.

As he lay there dying, regrets and rage pooled.

What..! It hurts, so bad… I'd… I'd just found out what I wanted to do! Wasn't… Wasn't I supposed to live a new life, explore a new world, maybe find a nice alien chick… Why? It wasn't supposed to end like this…

Why?

A final whistling sigh marked Nub's death, while Droids climbed over him, firing at those above.

Death counter: 0 — 1


Nub jolted awake, his breath quickened, and his eyes darted around the room searching for Droids.

Instead, he found himself back in the observation room, surrounded by his fellow clones.

Droidbait, having looked over when he suddenly jerked, creased his brow.

Looking closer, Droidbait saw Nub's delirious state and asked in concern, "What's the matter brother? It's just a meteor shower." Any further questioning halted when the meteors pelted the shield again, Nub not having braced this time fell halfway to the ground from his chair in a stumble, landing on one knee.

Hevy gave a chuckle at the sight before O'Niner silenced him with a stern glare. "I think you just volunteered to clean the rotaries with Fives, CT-782."

Hevys lips quickly turned down, before giving his acknowledgement, "Yes sir."

"Speaking of that, Fiv-"

Nub tuned out O'Niner at that. He'd died, he was sure of it, it was too real, to be a dream.

Nub shook slightly as he remembered the sheer pain he'd received as his body was cooked from the thermal heat. The armour he'd worn, became a coffin after failing, exacerbating the burning instead of dispersing it as it was meant to do.

With a tremble, he looked towards his hand and flexed it, no pain. Patting his torso, no pain.

Patting his neck… No pain.

The sensations had been all too vivid, could it have been one of those force visions he'd heard about?

Trying to remember what happened more clearly made him focus on the unimaginable level of pain he had suffered, causing him to begin hyperventilating. Droidbait, noticing this, shook his shoulder trying to bring him back to the present. But Nub at this point wasn't cognizant enough to recognise anything, he had checked out.

Chest tightened, breathing erratic, and pupils dilated as his eyes rolled back into his skull, Nub showed clear signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.

"Sarge, something is wrong with Nub!" Droidbait helplessly exclaimed in consternation.

O'Niner, who had been preoccupied talking to Fives, looked back and saw Nub in the midst of a seizure.

Immediately recognizing the symptoms, due to his experience back in Geonosis, he moved to help.

Nub fell fully to the ground, spasming all the while. O'Niner ran to him and gently laid his body on the side, ensuring he didn't choke upon his own saliva. "Droidbait, grab an emergency blanket from the storage room, go!"

Droidbait distraught, belted out a quick yes sir before running towards the storage room.

Everyone else was staring with a mix of confusion and horror at the sight, from their point of view, this had come from nowhere.

Their confusion deepened when they heard metallic clangs coming from the entrance door.

O'Niner, hearing the sound, snapped his head so fast, it's a miracle he didn't get whiplash.

Nub momentarily forgotten, the Sergeant spoke in fear, "Droids…" Before loudly shouting to warn the confused troopers, "Droids! Get your weapons now!"

Everyone stood still for a second before training kicked in, scrambling to put on their helmets. Unfortunately, only four blasters were readily accessible. The rest were in the barracks and armoury. The four blasters in the observation room were either leaning on the wall or were lying upon one of the consoles where a clone had discarded it while utilising said console.

O'Niner lunged for his weapon, desperately grabbing it just as the first commando droid crested the stairs, entering their line of sight.

Immediately all hell broke loose.

Hevy, who was in the middle of the observation room with Cutup, both being unarmed, took 4 bolts instantly, three of the bolts hit his visor ensuring his immediate death. Cutup got hit twice in the chest in quick succession, falling down, heavily injured.

Fives was the first to return fire, belting out three shots immediately, all three hitting one of the droids' thorax. To his dismay, however, the droid only staggered back before readjusting its aim towards him. Firing a final blaster bolt that went wide, he got lit up by five droids focusing him down.

Echo, having kept his blaster within reach at all times, as protocol demanded, opened fire about the time Fives fired his third shot.

Scoring two hits, one going straight through one of the commando droids' heads taking it down while the other shot hit one of the droids E-5 blaster, destroying it. For his success he got focused down after Fives, sealing his fate as well.

With Droidbait in the storage room and Nub incapacitated, O'Niner was the only combat-effective clone left in the observation room, he was also the closest to the apparent leader of the droids, marked with a white stripe on his faceplate.

He'd manage to fire twice, taking down two droids with perfect headshots.

He would've gone for a third if the droid leader hadn't whipped out a Vibrosword.

The droid leader charged him, O'Niner tried to fire but before he could, the droid was on him. Raising his blaster again, allowed the droid leader to get a clean angle to cut the blaster in half. With a swishing sound from the air pressure, the blaster fell in two pieces, one part still in O'Niner's hand, the other falling to the floor with a clatter.

O'Niner's expression shifted from defiance to disbelief as he watched his weapon fall apart.

With his blaster cut in half, O'Niner could only watch in resignation as the commando droid executed a perfect pirouette, sword perfectly aimed for his neck.

With a swift and painless cut, O'Niner, sergeant and veteran of Geonosis, had his head lopped off cleanly from his neck, the head meeting the durasteel floor a moment later.

A fountain of blood spurted from his lifeless lower body, not understanding that there was nothing to support anymore as it fell to its knees before slumping down entirely. Similarly, his severed head spurted blood on the floor where it laid on the ground in a macabre display, painting the grey metal, red.

The droids looking around, noticed Nub spasming on the ground. Nubs' seizure only grew worse upon seeing the carnage.

The droid leader and another approached while the rest took over the command stations.

"Should we take it prisoner?" The synthesised voice of a BX-series commando droid questioned.

"It doesn't matter; execute it." The leader commanded.

"Roger, Roger." Raising its rifle, it fired one shot through the macrobinocular viewplate, also known as the T-visor.

The red blast passed straight into Nub's cranium, killing him immediately.

Death counter 1 — 2


Nub awoke with a start, suddenly staring at the life support again.

Quickly turning to reassure himself, he surveyed the room, everyone was bracing for the meteor shower.

It had felt like he'd been in a half-fugue state, where Nub had been powerless to do anything.

He'd shouted, he'd tried to warn them, tried to move, to do anything as he saw his brothers get killed.

Yet for some reason, his body didn't obey him.

It began after he started to think abou- No. No, trying to remember right now… Wouldn't be helpful.

The meteors impacted the shield for a third time, Nub already having braced, didn't stumble this time.

As the meteor shower ended, Nub saw O'Niner walking toward Fives.

Nub stood up and approached the Sergeant. This time, he was going to warn them. This time, he wasn't going to fail them. This time, he had to succeed, he had to, it was his solemn duty.

End of Chapter 1 - "Solemn Duty."


AN - The amount of time I spent checking extremely short clips given by the 'Rookies' episode to try and see how everything in the outpost was built took way too much of my time.

I tried to be faithful to the dialogue shown in the episode, but some of it is grammatically incorrect, which is fine when you're watching something, but frustrating when you're reading. I let it be, it shouldn't be too much of a problem.

This is Re-Zero inspired, the MC will suffer a lot. Like, a lot, lot.

Wrote this one in third person, which I usually don't do, I primarily write in first person or even second with third person coming last. So it was a bit odd writing this, good learning experience though, which is good since that was why I wrote this. To get a bit more familiar with the 3rd perspective.

I really ought to update my other stories but instead I made this.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

That is all.