Howzer stole our hearts when he appeared in TBB S1 E12, and I wanted to write a bit of a backstory for him. It begins with his newbie days during The Clone Wars and stretches to where we last see him in The Bad Batch. Enjoy his character arc and som...
"Are you listening to me, handsome?" asked a thickly-accented voice, smooth as silk. Howzer snapped back to the present, running a hand absently through his hair and focusing his eyes back on the beautiful Twi'lek in front of him. The music came roaring back into his consciousness and he fought to remember what they had been talking about.
"I'm sorry," he answered, shaking his head pathetically. He dropped his eyes to the bar counter, absently drawing circles with his finger, searching for anything else to say to remedy the situation. It had been over a year since Sprint's death, but the flashbacks still made frequent appearances.
"Well," the Twi'lek laughed, "You could have just said my story was too boring." She tilted her head to the side, smiling at him suggestively.
"It wasn't boring," Howzer began, drifting off again. Some days were harder than others, and it had been a long week. He usually kept to himself but had sought out a noisy local cantina tonight in the hopes of drowning out his thoughts. Apparently this female was looking for some company, or at least a listening ear, and had been regaling him with tales from her childhood.
"Okay, okay," she said, putting her hands up in surrender, "Let's just say you're not the chatty type then, eh?" She sidled a bit closer, placing a hand on his shoulder plate. "Would you rather explore some possible activities that don't involve talking?"
Howzer's eyes rose back to hers, honey brown meeting stunning green. She was draped in baubles that tinkled and sparkled with every movement, lekku wrapped in ornate leather straps. He offered a small smile, reaching a hand up to take hers from his shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze, then politely returned it to her side.
"I'm not the type you're looking for," he said.
She pursed her lips in a mock pout, crossing her arms across her sparsely covered chest and stomach. "Well this is a first," she purred, dropping her hands to her hips. "I'm insulted."
"Heyyyy, honey -- if that blind old bat doesn't see the good time in front of him, I sure do!" came another clone voice, as Hangar sidled up beside her. "Don't bother with him; he's an old crust bucket these days."
Howzer smirked, eyes roving to Hangar. He offered a helpless shrug, rising to his feet and dropping a credit on the counter. "Have a good night," he offered, giving a little two-fingered salute before sauntering toward the door.
***
"Ready, Captain? We mustn't keep our guests waiting," Cham Syndulla asked, heavy sarcasm accompanied by an eyeroll.
"Yes, sir," Howzer replied, straightening the teal pauldron on his shoulder and picking up his helmet, fitting it over his head.
When they arrived at the building site, they were greeted by a handful of Imperials and the garrison of clone troopers that had accompanied them. Syndulla strode purposefully toward the group, flanked by Howzer on his right, offering an abrupt nod of greeting. The head Imperial was a short, round, middle-aged man who came up to Howzer's shoulder; he had slicked back blonde hair and piercingly blue eyes. He was attended by a few architects and engineers, as well as his assistant, a woman with short dark hair whose eyes were buried in her datapad the whole time.
"Cham. Good to see you. Your support is critical to ensuring a peaceful transition for Ryloth in these turbulent times. I'm Moss Gowden," said the head honcho, sticking out a plump hand. Cham shook it as briefly as he could without being impolite.
"We have been through a number of peaceful transitions," Cham replied evenly, and a tiny smirk danced at the corner of his lips.
"Of course you have," Moss answered without really listening, "This doonium mine and refinery will be a great asset to your people. It will provide jobs and economic growth, and it will give Ryloth its own special way of contributing to our new Empire. Not only that, but as an Imperial protectorate, your planet can enjoy peace and prosperity."
"That is all we want," said Cham. "Let's go ahead with our tour." He stepped forward, followed by Howzer, but Moss held up a hand.
"It may be best to keep these matters just between us," Moss said, eyeing Howzer and the other clones emphatically.
"Captain Howzer is as essential to smooth procedures as I am. He goes where I go," Cham insisted, and Howzer met Moss's hard gaze with a raised chin, expressionless behind his helmet. What he didn't see was the dark-haired woman's head jerk up from her datapad, eyes wide behind thin-rimmed glasses, looking him up and down with a furrowed brow.
"If you insist," Moss sighed, motioning to the rest of the group to stay put, "Let's go."
The Imperials stayed in their little cluster as Cham and Howzer followed Moss Gowden toward the mine. Howzer scanned the group as he passed by, eyes pausing for a moment on the woman. Her short hair was in a messy faux hawk, short on the sides and tousled on top, and she stared at him through her spectacles. He felt thrown off for a moment, either because she looked familiar or perhaps because she was looking at him so intently, but he shook it off and continued on his way.
***
The dark-haired woman rubbed her forehead, elbows on her desk. It was one of those days that seemed best spent in unhealthy introspection, wondering how she got to where she was. Her eyes roved around her office, sparsely furnished, with virtually nothing to distinguish it from anyone else's. It was dimly lit, and her chair creaked as she rocked mindlessly. She was interrupted from her morose reflection by the sound of the door creaking open.
"Aurelia," said Moss Gowden, sauntering in the room, "Pining away for me as usual, I see." His voice was as greasy as his hair, and his Imperial uniform strained at the buttons.
"Oh, you know it." Aurelia returned dully.
"Hey, don't be like that -- I've got a job for you!" Moss said. "Another weapons shipment was stolen from the cargo bay at the refinery. I think it's those hoodlums again. Syndulla claims to know nothing of it except that there has been an increase in pirate activity in this sector, but I want you to have a sniff around. Talk to his men and the refinery guards; try to get some insight of what really happened."
"What am I looking for, exactly?" Aurelia was always given odd jobs; she wasn't even clear what her actual job title was, other than to follow Gowden around and do his bidding. It also included putting up with a hefty amount of innuendo from him, which she had been used to from the bar, but she had just hoped for more when her parents told her they had gotten her an Imperial job. Once she got over the initial sting, of course -- they hadn't minced their words when it came to their disappointment over her firing from 79s, nor had they been shy about sharing precisely what they thought about her aspirations for her life.
"Just gather everyone's account of what happened and we'll see if there are any inconsistencies. We can review them at the end of the week, in my office. I'll bring a fizz; we can have some fun with it," Moss said, arching an eyebrow at her. She groaned inwardly but put on a stiff smile.
"I'll see you later," Aurelia said, picking up her pack and heading for the door.
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