Do you want to read about Rex finding a baby bantha aboard a starcruiser, or a drunken brawl at 79's? How about Commander Cody escorting Hondo across the galaxy? Then you've come to the right place!
Clone trooper only hates three things: bad intel, blue milk, and most of all, armour - his armour specifically. According to him, 'it's too tight and a bit abbrasive,' and so he receives his nickname 'Blacks,' as that is all he wears. There are standards to be upheld when battling on the front lines, so Blacks wears his gear when he must. Any other time, he can be found as one might expect - in his blacks.
Unfortunately for him, Jedi Knight Kit Fisto arrives later this rotation. Blacks' patrols with his teammates have not been as successful as the Jedi Council should like, causing Kit Fisto to visit the planet in person. The local seppies have all but taken over the nearby village on Beta Minor, and so today of all days, Blacks must be up to standard.
A nervous frenzy bubbles beneath his skin. After Slick betrayed the republic, Blacks was assigned to Slick's old team. Unfortunately for him, they were assigned base patrol, and Black's reputation suffers for it. The other regs see him as a fumbling moron, and his squad pulls no punches when it comes to belittling him. Maybe, when Master Fisto arrives, Blacks can finally prove his loyalty and skill. After all, it might be his only opportunity to get out of this stinkhole of a planet.
Blacks has laid out his kit: his blaster, supply pack and of course, his trooper armour. Its white finish gleams under the glaring lights, and not a spec of dust rests on his spotless kit.
His squadron, well, Slick's old squad - Chopper, Jester, Gus, Punch, and Sketch - wander around the room aimlessly. Each of them wears their clone trooper armour, eagerly awaiting, or fatefully dreading the Jedi's arrival. Blacks stares down at his armour, only wearing his black undersuit. As the Jedi will not arrive for at least a few hours, it should be safe enough to leave it here in the meanwhile. There will be plenty of time to put it on later.
Blacks heads out of the room through a sliding door. His stomach grumbles like a bantha, eager for its next meal. Blacks saunters down the hallway, heading straight for the cantina.
Chopper, mainly identifiable for his amber and silver eyes and facial scarring, approaches Black's bunk, rubbing his hands together mischievously. "Look at this guy," he teases the other troopers, motioning to Black's kit, "A Jedi knight is coming here, and he's runnin' around in his blacks!"
"Huh," Punch grumbles, stroking his goatee. "Sounds like he needs to be taught a thing or two about order...."
"Yeah," Chopper comments, "...and I have just the idea."
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"What did I miss?" Blacks questions as he enters his barracks. He leers over his kit, beginning to put on his armour, starting with his shinpads. Already the irritating plastoid chafes against his skin.
"You're late!" Punch affirms, pointing his finger at Blacks. "The General will be here any second - and you're still in your blacks!"
"Relax, we've got time." Blacks slowly places his armour on, piece by piece. As he reaches for his helmet, his eyes widen. "That's not right...."
