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Smol Rex - Blog Posts
Cadet-Napping
AKA Forced Adoption
Cody trudges into the room tired and pissed. He’s had enough of this day already and he can already see Bly’s stupid karking smirk. It almost makes him turn around. Almost. If it wasn’t for the ever growing weight on his back he would’ve about-faced and said kark it. His burden grumbles as his steps falter when Bly’s smirk sharpens. He knows the comment is coming, he knows, and if his arms weren’t full he would be preparing to deck him.
“We’re not keeping him, huh?”
“Shut up Bly.” A verbal jab is all he can do without jostling the cadet on his back. He strides past him to set their bleeding vod’ika on the bench.
“Not two hours ago you were saying he had to stay with his own squad. What changed your mind so fast?” Bly hands him a clean cloth and some gauze. He gets to work with a huff.
“His squad jumped him again.”
“They really don’t like that he’s blonde that much.”
“Apparently.”
“Wait. Why were you even heading back that way to begin with?”
“I looked him up. He’s been transferred thirteen times for infighting. It’s a wonder that the Kaminiis haven’t decommissioned him yet.”
“You were going back to grab him anyway.”
The statement is said with so much barely contained glee. He feels his eyebrow twitch twice before he can stop it and finishes wrapping up the cadet’s wounds. Heaving him back into his arms he strides past his infuriating brother once more. There’s no way to answer Bly’s statement, not without making the bastard even more smug. Besides he has to figure out how to get his vod’ika into a sleeping pod and then convince Alpha that the kid should be transferred into their squad.
“Kark you’re so kriffing soft. Who would have thought it possible. Kote has gone soft.”
“Shut Up Bly!”
The defective one
He heard them. Speaking about one of his many little brothers. They were discussing about the usefulness to keep him alive despite his default.
- It’s not like the other ones. Kill it.
- Except for the hair, it’s fine.
- We will have to sell it twice cheaper. It’s a waste of money.
- It doesn’t fit the specifications. Kill it.
CC-2224 stopped listening to this atrocious conversation and made a decision. He has to save this little boy, crying out loud in the general indifference. The “long-necks” were like that, ignoring the pain and the emotions of their creatures. In their gigantic black eyes, clones were just nothing more than a source of money provided that the army they were creating was perfect. And all the excuses were good to suppress the young ones who were not exactly the way they wanted: too little, too skinny, too pale, too slow… What about this one?
CC-2224 didn’t care. He just wanted to save this one from their claws. Taking advantage of one of the Kaminoans stepping away from the table, he ran to it and caught the tiny arm. Not paying attention of the orders falling from their mouth, he took the young boy in his arms. He was heavier than he thought but he didn’t drop him and ran backward, escaping their long fingers. Then he hid behind some machinery, ordering his brother to keep quiet. Luckily, the tiny boy was so fascinated by his big brother that he remained silent all the time they stayed hidden. Even when he started to pat his face with a surprisingly high strenght.
- What’s up with the little frog? asked CT-3636 when he finally arrived into their secret place.
Him and his brothers hid there when they didn’t want to study, like this day.
- They wanted to kill him.
CT-3636 rolled his eyes over the sky. He heard this sentence too many times before.
- And for what? Just some blond hair, he sighed while sitting down to release the little one.
Actually, CC-2224 was quite amazed by the color of his brother hair. They were so light that they seem to be translucent here and there. The contrast with his dark skin was impressive.
- Hello, there, said CT-5052, crouching to be closed enough to the new comer.
The baby looked at him with the same fascinated gaze as he has for him times ago. CC-2224 supposed he has never seen clones before - not grown-ups like them, actually. CT-5052 nicelly booped his tiny nose with his finger to reassure him, but CT-3636 pushed him away and raised his fist in front of his little face.
- He’s too young for this, underligned CC-2224. He won’t understand.
- That’s what you say, snapped CT-3636. Come on, bro! Show me who’s the man here!
The big amber eyes widened as much as the snarly smile of CT-3636 stretched on his round face.
***
I don’t know again if it’s accurate or not and I don’t care. I just wanted to draw a tiny Rex with a big brother Cody. And I don’t want to hear about “dyed hair” or something. For me, Rex is a natural blond baby mutant (what? We’ve got clones with blue eyes, it’s necesseraly a mutation. Why not hair color mutation?). Remember, I love contrast so blond hair with dark skin is just perfect for me. :D
Bly looks older on this drawing but he’s not (it’s just that I can’t draw him well). ^^;
Even if it’s not obvious with the last drawings I’ve made, I’m more a sketcher than a colored finished pieces drawer (and I’m more a writer than a drawer anyway). But, clones seem to motivate me enough to push me to make some effort. Enjoy. For now.
(Sorry for the mistakes again, French speaker is in da place! /o/)
Rex, Pint-Sized Battlemaster
(Ben and Luke, Ahsoka, Rex, and Leia, Chrono)
Intensely on my mind right now: Rex’s weird role as just That Mando Kid Wandering The Temple in the Uncle Ben and Little Luke verse
He walks in on padawan strategy classes, looking all of ten or twelve years old, and just sits in the back. He waits. He audits. When someone complains about how they don’t need battlefield strategy classes, that they’re Jedi and there hasn’t been a war in so long, when the teacher is just exhaustedly explaining for the fifth time that Jedi are regularly called in to warzones, to negotiate ceasefires or extract Senate representatives, when the teacher tries to impress upon their students that reading a battlefield is important even if you don’t expect to lead a battle…
Rex just sets a dejarik board in front of the padawan, who’s twice his size and can tell that Rex is about as force-sensitive as a barely-more-than-null brick, and says, “If you can beat me, you can claim that you’re good enough at reading a battlefield to skip this class. If you can’t, you’re sticking around. Understand?”
The teacher didn’t agree to this ahead of time, but has seen Rex pull this on other people, including experienced knights and masters, and just. Gestures for them to go ahead. Fuck it! The weird Mando kid is capable of outmaneuvering highly-ranked masters, Force or no! Clearly he knows his shit!
Rex, seasoned battle commander that he is, with literal decades of training and experience, wins easily. The padawan is very upset. Rex doesn’t care, because in his mind, the padawan’s behavior was going to get brothers from Kamino killed fifteen years down the line.
And he just keeps on doing that, to the point where all the masters who run those kinds of classes on war and strategy and tactics just reach out to Ben like “Hey… is this kid legit or just hyperfocused on the subject or–” “He grew up in a military cult.” “…” “For reasons I cannot disclose, yes, he’s legitimately more experienced in this field than most field-ready Jedi masters. Just be glad the military cult in question wasn’t Kyr’tsad, honestly.”