Archive of Our Own

“ Would you shut up for just one second 69?”, CT-6116, medic in training, sighed slightly annoyed as he was trying to memorize the data for his medical courses and the constant talking of his brother made it almost impossible.
“ My name is Hardcase.”, the hyperactive clone paused in his storytelling of his latest hookup to enunciating his name for his batchmate again as if he was hard of hearing , “ Hard-Case!”
“ Not much longer, if you keep bothering me.”, muttered 16 under his breath.
“ Easy t here, Kit .”, laughed their third squad mate CT-5597, “ Put your claws away, were on the same team after all.”

Right now the three batchmates were in one of the training rooms of Kamino, waiting with three other squads for their training sergeant to arrive, who was running late as it seemed.
So 16 had wanted to use the spare time to revise his latest medical course, but unfortunately Hardcase had thought this was the perfect moment to tell his brothers about his sex life.

The medic in training rolled his eyes, at the hated nickname: “Stop calling me that.”
“Kit? Why? It´s so fitting, Kitti.”, Hardcase was grinning smugly, “You always carry a first-aid-kit, you are our personal Kit. Kit sixteen. Kixteen.”
“Yes, we would be lost without you.”, 97 added smiling, but rather in fondly way than in a mocking manner.
16 just shook his head slightly, amused by his brothers antics.
“Will Wyr actually come? Weʻve been waiting for hours.”, Hardcase faked a yawn, eliciting shy chuckles and smiles from the other batches around.

Bralov Wyr, was one of the Cuy´val dar, one of one hundred men and women chosen by the Prime himself to train the clones. If 16 had to describe the middle aged Mandalorian, he would most definitely choose the words pride, arrogance and coldheartedness. The man had never cared about the clones he had trained, his training brutal and his punishments gruesome.
16 knew it from first hand, as his squad had lost one of their brothers, CT-1620, a shy, fearful kid, who hadnʻt even chosen a name yet, to the so called “training methods” of Wyr.
After a special training exercise during their sixth growth cycle, in which Hardcase had constantly had forgotten what to do and had been super hyperactive and 20 had had hidden himself most of the time behind 97, the Mandalorian had been especially upset with their squad. And as a result he had had assigned them to some special training, which had turned out to be a battle sim, in which Wyr had changed the stun ammo of the training droids to old outdated bullets and poor 20 had gotten shot in the thorax multiple times.

While 97 and Hardcase had been taking care of the droids, 16 had carried his brother out of the line of fire to tend his wounds, to stop the inevitable. But 16 hadnʻt been a medic in training back then and had had no medical supplies with him to stop the bleeding and treat the damaged lungs of his brother. Still 16 had hoped, hoped that after defeating the last droids they would be let out of the sim room and that the Kaminoans could save 20.

It day had been the last day 16 had hoped, as h is hopes had been crushed by Wyr as the trainer had left them to their fate, locking them into the room.
They had been forced to watch their smallest brother, their beloved 20 succumb to his wounds, unable to ease his pain, unable to help him, unable to do anything.

The next morning they had been found by an Alpha-ARC, who had been heading for training with a group of CCs. The Alpha had been furious by the sight of their deranged squad and their dead brother, demanding an explanation.
After telling him what had happened, the Alpha had sworn violently in Mandoʻa, shouting death threats against Wyr and had then ordered the CCs to take the three brothers back to their barracks, promising he would take care of Wyr.

Later the ARC had come back to them, assuring them that Wyr would never do something like that ever again and that he and his fellow Alphas would from now on “supervise” him.
It had been just a little comfort hearing those words after the loss of 20, but a small part of them had been happy about this.

And true to his word, Bralov Wyr had been supervised meticulously by at least one Alpha ARC each training session for about a year. The Mandalorian had understood his precautions situation and had started to play by the rules, slowly evolving his training until it was an acceptable one for the Alphas. The only punishments Wyr did nowadays - in their ninth growth cycle – were beatings, which seemed to be a normal thing under trainers.
Some clones from the other squads he trained, had because of that stopped fearing the Cuy´val dar and had begun to underestimate him. A deadly mistake in 16ʻs eyes. This man had always enjoyed scaring others and hurting them, he was just waiting for his next opportunity, like a predator lurking for its prey.

So 16 had mixed feelings about Hardcase joking about that monster, because if Wyr found out about it his hyperactive brother would be paying the price.
“Maybe we are lucky and he has forgotten he has to come here.”, added 97 conspiratorially.
“Or maybe he has gotten eaten by a Aiwha.”, Hardcase sounded excited, “Or he slipped in the hallways and broke his neck.”
16 could hear a few of the other clones snickering or outright laughing, shuffling closer to Hardcase, until he was in front of them like a teacher.
“Actually that is too easy.”, Hardcase continued, but his voice was not only joking but laced with grief and memory, “Those deaths are to painless, he deserves to suffer.”
“Like getting digested alive by some rancid space monster.”, the hyperactive clone suggested and then added in his normal mocking manner, “Rather not, that poor monster could not stomach Wyr, it would have stomach pain until all eternity.”

A slow clapping echoed through the room and 16 spun his head around in shock. There, right in the door way of the training room stood Bralov Wyr, a cruel smile on his face. The whole room went instantly silent, shocked by the unexpected arrival of their trainer.
“ I see, you already started without me.”, Wyrʻs words were sharp like glass, a predatory look in his eyes as he strode closer and closer until he was almost face to face with Hardcase.

16 shivered, fear c o ursing through his body, as he watched the two men in front of him ey e ing each other. The medic in training saw Hardcaseʻ s fear in his eyes, but Hardcase tried to not show that weakness to Wyr, so the hyperactive clone gave his adversary a smile with teeth and proclaimed : “ Punctuality is the politeness of the kings.”
16 felt his heart skip a beat at that snarky comeback of his brother and he heard a murmur from the other squads.
“ Is that so?”, Wyr took a step closer.
“ Yes it is.”, Hardcase confirmed , and then to 16ʻs horror his brother continued: “ But since you are no king, just a simple kriffi ng bounty hunter, who is shorter than clones in their 8 ^th growth cycle…”

Hardcase couldnʻt finish his sentence, because Wyr punched him right into the solar plexus, making the clone fall to his knees, his breathing pained and uneven.
“I have been a rather lenient trainer all these years and thatʻs how you thank me?”, Wyrʻs voice was as cold as ice, “I think you all need a reminder of what happens, when you dare to speak against me!”
With an exaggerated gesture the Mandalorian pulled a whip from his belt.

16ʻs breath stopped, realizing what the man was about to do. He would whip Hardcase, his brother, to demonstrate his power!
The medic in training felt sick, as he took a closer look at the leather whip, which had multiple tails, which ended in knots. There were also small and sharp pieces of metal embedded into the single thongs, glittering dangerously.
Wyrʻs hand was gliding over the whip, almost caressing the torture instrument in a sick display of affection: “20 hits, so you all remember your places.”

A protective fury spread through the soon to be medic like a wildfire, his hands clenching to fists. His whole body tensed, ready to fight, ready to protect. He had lost 20 to this monster, he would not let that bastard hurt Hardcase!
He thought he could hear 97 whispering something to him, but he couldnʻt make out the words, his fury and fear for his brother was drowning everything out.
Wyr was raising his arm, readying himself for the first strike.

16 acted on instinct alone. He lunged forward, grabbed the handle of the whip and forced it out of Wyr´s hand.
With a clattering noise the whip hit the ground and 16 kicked it out of Wyrʻs reach . He could hear the exited whispers of the other clones, he could feel the incredulous look from 97 in his back and he could see Hardcaseʻs eyes, fixing 16ʻs own with a worried, yet proud look.

“How dare you, you filthy scum!?”, Wyr hissed, backhanding 16 brutally, making the medic in training stumble a step backwards, “How dare you to raise your hand against me?”
Though the Mandalorian was fuming with rage, 16 kept eye contact and spoke with rather calm voice: “Because your actions were wrong. You were about to whip a cadet for a minor misdemeanor. In my medic training I have sworn to help people, I canʻt just stay by and watch a whipping, which would cause disfigurement and serious trauma.”

For a moment everyone was silent, the Wyr gave 16 an uncomfortable smile: “You are right, clone. His actions are indeed minor, but attacking a trainer is a major crime. You will take double the punishments. 40 hits. Maybe this will make you remember your place.”
16 felt utterly calm, but the rest of the clones were shocked or scared. When he had run forwards to help Hardcase, 16 had known that his actions would have consequences. He would gladly take the punishment, if it meant he could protect his brothers.

The medic could see how Hardcase got up, clearly wanting to do something even more stupid, but 97 grabbed his brother and forced him back.
“Armor of and on your knees.”, Bralov Wyr sneered and 16 complied, letting himself sink onto the floor.
“This will teach you a lesson!”, Wyr grinned maniacally. Then he raised his arm.
16ʻs heart skipped a beat, waiting for the searing pain.

“Put the whip down!”, a voice boomed across the room, startling 16 and the others badly.
The medic in training turned his head and immediately spotted an Alpha-ARC with red markings on his armor entering the room, followed by a familiar Alpha-ARC with blue markings adorning his armor.
Usually 16 didnʻt believe in luck or in fate, but right now he chose to make an exception.

Wyr opened his mouth, but the Alphas were not interested in talking .
The familiar blue marked one brutally slammed the Mandalorian into the next wall over and over again , spitting Mandoʻa curses.

“Thatʻs enough, 17.”, the red one chimed in after a few moments, “We donʻt want him dead.”
“I do.”, 17 answered.
“You are scaring the cadets.”
“Am not.”, 17 grumbled, but it seemed like the red one was right, as the younger clones seemed rather intimidated by the large Alpha.
“Yes you are, you diʻkut.”
Those words seem to actually make 17 consider his actions, as he let go of Wyr, who crumpled to the floor unconscious.

“You alright?”, Alpha-17 addressed the medic in training, who was still kneeling on the floor, shaking with adrenaline.
“Iʻm fine.”, 16 answered a tad shy, but took the outstretched hand of the Alpha nonetheless, letting himself be helped up.
“You sure?”
“Yes, thank you.”

“ You are so bad with kids.”, commented the red armored one.
“ You´re welcome to take over if you think are better at it, Fordo.”, Alpha 17 growled annoyed.
“ O h, no I enjoy watching.”, Fordo replied smugly, “Besides one of us has to deal with Wyr, when he wakes up again. S o it s eems like you have to watch the kids. ”
“ Mir sheb .”, Alpha-17 tossed at his brother , then he turned to the cadets, “ You will stay in the Alpha barracks with us , until Wyrʻs fate is decided .”

T he batches began to slowly shuffle out of the room, following the Alpha and allowing 16 to reunite with Hardcase and 97. He hug ged his batchmates close.
“Thank you for the save, 16.”, Hardcase put his hand on the soon to be medic ´s on his shoulder, “I donʻt know what would have happened without you.”
“ Thatʻs what brothers are for.”, 16 explained, “I would do it again in the blink of an eye .”
“ The Alphas ha ve kriffing good timing.”, commented the hyperactive clone, “ Almost l ike someone alarmed .”

A smug smile appeared on 97ʻs face, as he showed his brother a small device.
“A panic button?”, 16 asked incredulously.
Now everything made sense, thatʻs why 97 hadnʻt intervened, had remained calm and had stopped Harcase from doing anything stupid, because 97 had known that help would come.
“How did you get that?”, the hyperactive clone asked.
“Alpha-17 gave it to me after the Alphas had stopped surveying Wyr. Heʻd feared that it would only be a matter of time, before that bastard tried something again.”, 97 explained, “So he gave this to me, because I am the squad leader. He gave each of the other squads one panic button too.”

“ Iʻm kriffing glad, he did.”, Hardcase said happily, “ By the way, that was a very nice kick in there, 16.”
“ Yeah, that was an awesome kick.”, 97 agreed with a smile.
“ You know, I now have the perfect name for you.”
“Not again, Hardcase.”, groaned 16.
“ It is a mashup of kit for your medic side and kicks for your awesome kicks. Kicked Kit. ”, Hardcase presented with a grin, “ And the short version is Kix.”

“Kix.”, 16 said, testing the word in his mouth. To his surprise, he actually liked that name a lot. Kit had never been the right name for him, it hadnʻt sounded right, it had felt wrong, but Kix sounded just right.
“Kix. I really like that.”, Kix smiled.