' Education, and armor

Self defense, our tribe.

Our language and our leader

All help us survive. '

- Mandalorian living pillars

Qiubbu's hut.

Coruscant.

Clone Wars.

" Go on. Fill yer boots ".

Kal Skirata's open invitation was met with varied reactions among the assembled Republic Commandos in the cramped, and military hardware laden upper floors of the seedy downtown inn they'd taken over. Omega and Delta teams, for once out of their bulky, yet streamlined Katarn armor, had actually drawn their weapons on him- an assortment of commercial grade blasters- when he'd first loped into the room, accompanied by the soft spoken, brunette rookie Jedi Etain Tur-Murkan.

He hadn't caught them off guard, at least. For all the intruder detection and anti surveillance security measures they'd put in place, they were Republic Commandos, and staying alert just came easily to them. It couldn't be turned off.

Now that they recognized it was him, and that little Jedi woman who'd become part of their band, they noticed what he'd brought them: an astonishing ( to them, at least ) selection of candies, fruits, cold treats and other assorted goodies that the old(er ) sergeant mercenary had brought to them.

" Been shopping,", he'd called it. For once, that wasn't black market weaponry ( tantalizing though that was ), but instead, veritable delicacies.

Omega didn't hesitate; holstering their weapons, and calming down a bit, they all began moving forward at once to peruse the spread.

Delta, on the other hand, stayed back, at first. It only lasted a few seconds, before they finally realized that " fill yer boots " was shorthand for " dig in ", so they finally did.

Boss, Fixer, and Scorch all walked over to join in on the rest of the commandos- Niner, Fi, Darman, and Atin- as they enthusiastically examined the pile of food.

There was absolutely no comparison between this kind of food, and their ration cubes, which Etain, upon once tasting them, had called not much better than animal feed. Special forces or no, the men secretly agreed with her: you could only take so much of those cubes, before you began to plot the assassination of whoever had come up with them.

This was a welcome change, for sure. Even the food they got at military commissaries and shipboard mess halls, while a big step up from the cubes, still couldn't match this.

The Commandos took their time, picking up each item, and asking questions about it, before taking bites. Etain seemed especially touched by how fascinated they were. Skirata proudly looked on.

Sev didn't seem interested though.

While everyone else was enjoying the way the veteran Mandalorian had supplied them with these vastly superior rations, the sniper of Delta team stayed in the corner he'd occupied all along. The upper levels of the inn were less spacious than the lower ones, but it was also easier to find tucked away corners, especially with all their supplies and pieces of hardware piled in. He'd just dissembled one of those pieces: his DC-10 rifle, yet again,

He was more than content to do it again.

Sev was only at peace in in the heat of battle. That's what had him feeling like he was in a good mood- putting particle bolts through the heads of hostiles' heads had him feeling alive. Combat induced adrenaline rush was as addictive as death sticks.

Downtime, though ? That turned him as restless as a Nemodian waiting for the bank to open, what with all the quiet and silence. It was unnerving. Why they'd been pulled back to Coruscant, instead of staying where they belonged on the front lines, just to partake in some obscure counter terror op, was staggering. Anti-terror ops, here ? On Triple 0 ? That wasn't what RCs were for, at least in his mind. They were soldiers. Fighters. They should be on the front lines, taking out Seps.

And, they'd dragged Omega into this.

Sev didn't understand/ get along with his own squad, Delta, half the time, aside from Scorch. The squad's demo expert was actually fun to chat with, as both of them shared a fondness for ruthless destruction, and the inherent beauty of a perfectly detonated explosion on a target. On the other hand, he hardly knew anyone on Omega. They were all Skirata's men, not how Delta was of Walon Vau.

On one hand, they were all Republic Commandos. On the other, well, that was where it ended. Vau had beaten them into the ground, sometimes literally, yelling and and bellowing that they'd only become Republic Commandos if they were subjected to his style of command. He hadn't said that in so many words, but it was clearly his intent. Relentlessly, he'd trained them that way.

Not at all like how Skirata had trained his. He'd taken a much different approach: following the philosophy of treating the men in the squad as family, with affection and understanding. And, it had worked. Every day, he'd lectured, and educated them, on things not just military and tactical, but also on Mandalorian culture and history.

Well, that was basically like comparing the Athenians to the Spartans.

Sev, one of Vau's disciples, now watched both squads mingling. He didn't know how he felt, seeing everyone all cheerful. Though he had nothing but the greatest respect for Vau as a solider and a leader, he privately hated that he'd been treated he way he had been. Soldiers were all supposed to be brothers , but Vau lorded himself over them, as a figure of absolute obedience. There was something about it Sev couldn't accept, which may have been why he viewed the other Commandos in a better light, than his instructor. He couldn't quite explain how, but that's how it was. Someday, he'd tell Vau.

What he was sure of, though, was that he resented Omega. He hardly even was all chipper with Delta. Boss was a good commander, granted, and Scorch was fun to raise all manner of havoc with, but that was about it.

' Too much touchy feely garbage. Just let them party ', he decided , stoically content to keep cleaning his DC.

Eventually, they'd be done. Eventually, they'd get on with the '' operation ' that had them on this endless city world to begin with-

" Hey, Sev ", one of them called over, turning away from the buffet of exquisite cuisine.

Ah, great.

Darman, abbreviated from ' Dar'manda ', or ' lost soul '.

One of the Omegas.

So much for relaxing solitude, the only thing as good as relaxing combat. Sev bit back a audible huff of annoyance.

Better to just deal with this, quickly.

" What, Darman ? You're interrupting my work ", Sev retorted, typically blunt, not looking up from the weapon he had across his knees. Weapons were easier for him to get along with, as they didn't say anything

That didn't deter the other commando though, as Sev had hoped. Instead, the opposite happened.

Footsteps caught Sev's attention. He immediately looked up-

- to find Darman standing in front of him. In his hand, he held out a slice of Urj cake, the sticky and sweet Mandalorian cake that Skirata loved so much, and had gotten his squad to love as well.

Darman was holding a piece of it out to Sev, clearly offering it.

" Kal- Sergeant Skirata ", Darman corrected himself, as nobody but Omega called Skirata Kal. " Got ahold of some this ! " Don't remember if you ever had any, but anyway, here. I already had some ".

The cake did look good. Delicious and moist. It had a red, burgundy really, icing over it, with a burnt orange cake base.

Still, Sev didn't ask for it. He wanted to be by himself, no socialize. He didn't socialize well. That was something that anyone on Delta could attest to. Fixer had once dryly contemplated out loud that the Kaminonans had spiked his tank with some kind of aggression-enhancement solution.

It'd be easy to tell Darman to buzz off. In all reality, that's exactly what Sev wanted to do. He didn't have time for Omegas.

Except, that cake-

Scrap.

At the last second, the " Go away, Darman " died.

Sev stopped tending to his weapon. He set it-carefully- off to the side, and slowly reached out, and took the cake slice.

" Thanks. "

The word came out strange, at least to Sev. Whenever had he had to thank anyone, for anything ? He was Republic commando RC-1207, The Fiercest Hunter, of Delta Squad. When, through all of the battles against the Seps, had he ever had to ' thank ' , anyone for anything other than lighting up a hostile that just so happened to get close enough to threaten him. But, thanking someone for something that fell outside that ?

He thought that the other kind of gratitude, pure combat, was enough. It still was, but-

He took a bite.

" Kandossi, isn't it ? ", Darman smirked.

It was.

The cake had a fearsomely rich, spicy taste to it. And, it had a intriguing, velvety texture as it touched the inside of Sev's mouth.

Inexplicably, Sev found he liked it. There weren't many things he liked, per se ( aside from, obviously, combat ), but he decided he could safely say, this Urj cake could be counted as one of them.

" Come on, ner vode. There's enough for everyone. ", Darman assured him.

With that, he beckoned Sev in the direction of the others, and set off that way, glancing over his shoulder.

" Don't be a hut'un, Sev ! Or it'll all be gone. "

Sev looked down at the remains of the cake he held.

There was no way cake could change things, but in this moment, with all his fellow clones actually being cheerful off the battlefield, the surly sniper became aware of something: Perhaps, it actually could.

It was obscure, hard to define, and Sev didn't know what to do with it. It'd been a long time from Geonosis to today, and he'd ridden though life with only 3 constants: Vau's slave driver disicpline, combat, and his brothers of Delta. The first was a nightmare. The second was a rush. The third was, well, complicated.

But, that thing was: Omega were his brothers too. They weren't just clones. They were Commando clones, the very best of the best.

" Squad ! ", he called out, getting up from his secluded spot.

" Let's kick off this op with more of this cake Like Delta should! "

Jungles of of Kashyyk.

Years later, after Order 66

" Like Delta should ".

Delta.

Boss

Scorch.

Fixer.

Omega

Darman

Fi

Niner

Atin

Deep in the chokingly dense jungles of Kashyyk, with the historical Wroshyr trees leaving shadows over everything, and with the roots of the gargantuan trees serving as natural arches and caves, it was easy to sit and think.

The Empire did rule Kashyyk, yes. They'd infested it with their legions of Stormtroopers, but there were still large swathes of the world their grip hadn't closed over. It'd be easy for someone with the right know how to stay hidden from them, and only become visible when it was that person's call.

Someone like a Republic Commando.

Sitting under the root arches, Sev, RC-07, sat, and thought about the past.

He still had his Katarn armor, his beksar'gam. It was no longer at the peak of pristine-ness, as it had once been, and it'd gotten a lot more scuffs and dents that it already had from its years of combat, with the jungles of Kashyyk not doing much for their upkeep. His weapon, his beloved DC-10, was also clearly weathered. worn, and heavily used, just like the armor, with all its finish gone.

Yet, both the armor and the rifle, still, were the gear of a Republic Commando. They've always had a certain degree of prestige and respect about them, and always deeply valued by the Commando who owned them.

That was all true for Sev, and it still was. But, there was something else, perhaps even closer to him that that.

Memories.

That's what he did now, in the quiet of the forest. Fresh off of annihilating a patrol of Imperial soldiers, he'd withdrawn into the maze that the jungle was, to keep to himself for a while, until the time to hunt them down came again.

He wanted to hunt them again. But first, he would walk memory lane. He could do it now. Not like the Empire would find him easily. It was obvious from how easily he'd exterminated that patrol, that they'd not dealt with a Republic Commando before.

They'd find a counter to him eventually, he knew. Till then, he could be thorn in their side. And, live his life his way.

In his hand, he held a piece of flimsi. It was a photo, taken that day on Corascuant. He was didn't know who'd taken it, only that Scorch ahd offered to let him keep it, admitting that the thought Skirata might've taken it, but wasn't sure. Either way, Scorch told Sev to keep it. (" You actually seem like don't want to run away from everyone, for once ", he'd remarked, clearly bemused. )

Sev had let him have that. He didn't get that attitude, but he'd let Scorch have that.

He'd kept the photo too.

He still had it

Truthfully, he could remember all of them. They'd not realized it, but he did. Boss, issuing his coolly calm order,s even under withering blaster fire ( " Give me an explosive solution, Delta ! " ). Striking a balance between being bit- chomping aggressive, and politician methodical,. He got things done, Boss did. He was committed to victory, and Sev could respect that.

Fixer. Always Mr Official, saying things like " Protocol dictates I eliminate all hostiles before I can help you, sir ", when Boss was DBNO, before proceeding to disembowel a Tradoshan at vibroblade point. He was weird as sin, but at least he could slice any console in record time.

And then of course, there was Scorch. Every time a particle bolt came anywhere near his head, he'd claimed it was a conspiracy against him, just as an example. When he wasn't blasting things sky high with det-packs, he was commenting on the mortal peril of the job, or on Sev's sanity.

That was Delta for him. That's what they'd been to him.

That was, for all intents and purposes, his family.

Was, his family.

He was alone now. They could be dead by now, and he wouldn't know. They wouldn't know if he was dead.

But, in that photo, they were all alive. A squad, Delta squad. Brothers all.

Even Omega. Sev hadn't ever really gotten to know them, at least not all of them. But, he still remembered when Darman had offered him that cake, and the way Etain had smiled at Darman afterwards, and how Scorch had snickered at that.

Had Sev ever let them know that he valued the times when they could just be like this: brothers in arms, outside of glorious rush of combat ? Didn't matter if they already knew; had he told them " Glad I am in this fight with you " ?

Sev couldn't remember. He may not ever get to, if he hadn't then.

He hated that it'd taken his current predicament, to have him feel this way. It'd just been so, not like him, before.

He'd always be RC-1207. The fiercest hunter.

But, he was RC-1207 of Delta. He was one brother among others.

Scorch. Boss. Fixer.

And Delta, were brothers to Omega

Fi. Darman. Niner. Atin.

Sev decided that if he didn't ever find them ever again, he'd remember them.

Because their bond had been forged in death's fires.

They were brothers all.

" Glory !

Eternal glory !

We will bear its weight together.

Forged like a saber in the fires of death

Brothers all "

- Mandalorian battle chant: Vode An. Brothers all