"So, what are you doing here, kid?"
Haze had helped 90 up onto one of the neatly made bunks and now the older clone had sat down on the floor across from him, watching 90 curiously.
Curling up, but leaving his injured leg extended, 90 looked shyly at Haze, his face a little red with embarrassment. "I came out here to hide..." he admitted."
"From what?" Haze asked, cocking his head and arching one eyebrow inquisitively.
90 looked down at the floor, fiddling with the edge of the blanket silently a moment. He didn't know if he should tell Haze considering he knew nothing about him. For all he knew, Haze could be lying. Maybe he was out here to spy on him and tell the Sergeant.
90 doubted it, though. There was something about Haze that made him look honest, and 90 trusted him.
"My batchmates, and my training," he blurted out, then kept going before Haze could interrupt. "I was supposed to go back to training after the painkiller kicked in because good soldiers fight through the pain and stuff, but I didn't want to go back because 67 hates me and I was scared that I'd get paired with him again. He doesn't follow the rules and he doesn't like me much. None of them do, except 17, he helps me sometimes and he doesn't mock me like the others. I don't know why, but he's nicer. Out here it's quiet, though, and no one can find me, so I come here to get away from them."
The words felt like they were scrambling over each other to get out as 90 let it all spill out, hugging his knee closer to his chest as he hunched over some. He bit his lip when he was done and looked up at Haze, unsure how the older man would react or what he would say.
Most people would just tell him to get over it and toughen up, but Haze didn't seem like most other people otherwise 90 had a feeling he wouldn't be sitting here listening.
There was a long pause as Haze seemed to consider everything he'd just heard, chewing on his finger a moment before he looked up at 90.
"Sounds like your batchmates have a complex," he said bitterly. "It's not your fault, though, they've just got their own issues. You can't fix them, unfortunately," he sighed a little, going back to chewing on his finger in thought before lifting his head and asking, "What do you think the problem is?"
90 frowned and let his eyes wander around the room as he considered his response.
"I guess...well, I'm not as skilled as them. I'm behind, and I follow the rules. They don't, which gives them the upper hand. My trainer doesn't like me as much either because I'm constantly getting hurt or failing," he said, looking at Haze for answers.
"Sounds like you just need a little help training, then. It's hard to have a fair fight with those who play dirty, but it's not impossible," Haze answered, rising from the floor. He walked over to the bunk and gestured to the bandages on 90's leg.
"I'm assuming that's the result of your most recent training?"
90 nodded and swallowed quietly. Haze just nodded and offered him a hand up.
"Well, I can't fix it, but I can show you how to avoid getting another," he offered. "You're what, ten? What class of trooper?"
90 let Haze help him to his feet and he gripped the older clone's hand a little for balance as he gingerly put weight on his injured leg, testing it a moment before he let go of Haze's hand. The painkiller was still working and the pain was just a dull ache. He could manage through that.
"I'm an Assassin Trooper, but we have ARC designations," 90 answered. "I'm ARC-90," he added when he realized Haze still didn't know his name.
"No name yet?" Haze asked, raising a brow as he left 90's side and gestured for him to follow as he started for the door of the barracks. 90 limped after him, nodding.
YOU ARE READING
Star Wars: Scars
Fanfiction"The greatest of men are those with a thousand scars. Because great men are forged in the healing of a thousand wounds." Clone Trooper Assasin Creed has spend half his life training and fighting a war for the Republic, but not by their rules. He's s...