i’ve got great expectations

Anyways here’s a sneak peak 😉

“In one week, our twenty-two contestants will make it to Camp Wawanakwa.” The executive flicked an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder. “And I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Before Chris can say a word, an intern is coming from behind and dropping off a thick manila folder with a soft thud.

“Inside you’ll find all the knowledge you need to know about the contestants. Their archetypes, personalities, story lines-”

“Story lines?”

The executive let out an impatient sigh, pinching his nose. “This show - it’s a reality show, yes, but we’re here for the drama. So, we’re going to ensure that it happens. That folder is the key to the season. Memorize it, and make sure it pans out exactly to plan.” Chris has been scanning some of the pages, his brow furrowed with confusion. “Oh, and of course, we will be making some updates. We’ve seen the audition tapes, but we haven’t seen the players on set. Don’t worry, we’ll handle those. And we’ll handle most of the…encouragement for the players.”

Seventeen stood in the corner of the room, watching the cadets circle the ring. Fox’s lip was bleeding, Wolffe’s breathing was irregular, too fast for it to be a good sign. Fox seemed weary. Seventeen understood - Wolffe got very angry, very fast, resulting in rash decisions and brutal actions. But Seventeen wouldn’t give in. Recently, he’d been giving in too much. He supposed it had something to do with Kote’s…predicament. But now he had to backtrack, with the Kaminoans breathing down his neck with the threat of reassigning the batch.

“Did you hear me, cadets? I said again!”

Wolffe snarled, heading towards Fox. It’s a blur of limbs, blocking, punching, and clawing. Desperate fighting. They weren’t exactly using the moves he’d taught them, but they’d been at this for hours - the other three were long gone. Fox and Wolffe had been unruly and out of line as usual, so Seventeen hoped the extra exercise would tire them out, but that seemed to only be working for one of them.

Wolffe’s head slams back on the mat, Fox pinning him down with a triumphant glint in his eyes. Wolffe might have been a better fighter than Fox, but he was too angry to think rationally. Fox knew how to exploit that. Wolffe glared up at Fox and tapped out aggressively.

“Again.”

Seventeen snapped, almost an automatic response. Fox’s shoulders slumped, sending a glare towards Seventeen as he slunk back to his side of the mat. Wolffe, however, had seemingly had enough.

“Kriff that!” Fox’s eyes widened slightly - there was a line you weren’t supposed to cross, and Wolffe just crossed it. Seventeen’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Wolffe.

“What was that, cadet?”

Wolffe glared at him, but his mouth stayed shut. He seemed to know he’d made a mistake. Seventeen huffed, waving Fox away. “You’re dismissed. Get out of here.”

Seventeen stared at Wolffe as Fox crept out of the room. Wolffe didn’t look away, instead just glaring even harder. They were four standard years old - he should know better. “Twenty suicides. Go.”

Wolffe stood there for a second, then scoffed. “Fine.”

He stormed across the room. If looks could kill, Seventeen would be dead six times over.

“There and back. Start.”

Wolffe took off, running from one side of the training room to the other. One, two…

“Cadet, you need to learn some manners.” Seventeen knew he was taunting the boy, but he couldn’t help it. “You won’t survive if you don’t. What’s your Jedi going to say?”

Wolffe let out an aggressive laugh, spitting towards Seventeen. “What would you know? You’ve never left the planet!”

Seventeen shook his head. “You just gave yourself five more.”

Back and forth. Eight, nine, ten…

What was going on with the kid? The anger was common, but there was something under it - something real. And Seventeen would figure it out.

“What will the Nulls say? Their best fighter, reduced to a recommissioned janitor-“

Wolffe stopped in the middle of his thirteenth suicide, his chest heaving, a sheen of sweat covering his face and neck. He huffed, his voice high pitched and cracking. “You don’t know! You don’t get it! You’ve never left, and I have too! I don’t have a choice! I don’t want these kriffing longnecks watching me like I’m a kriffing science experiment! I don’t want to play their game anymore! I’m done!”

The echoes of his rant rang throughout the room. Wolffe stared blankly, as if he hadn’t meant to explode like that. But, again, that was common Wolffe. When he got angry, he was like a thermal detonator. Seventeen stood there, his brow furrowed, his expression unreadable.

“I-“ Wolffe coughed, clearing his throat nervously. Seventeen shook his head, studying him.

“You’re right.” He said finally, sighing. He ignored the Wolffe’s incredulous expression. “I’ve never left. But I didn’t choose to stay, either. You need to come to terms with the fact that you don’t get to pick.”

Wolffe swallowed, nodding slowly. His eyes darted around, his breathing finally relaxing slightly.

“And-“ Seventeen have him a pointed look “-you aren’t alone. Your vod understand - Kote most of all. That’s the point of a batch.” He crossed the room, walking closer to the cadet. He rested a hand on his shoulder - a small, comforting gesture. “You need to be careful, vod’ika. Don’t risk getting decommed because of anger.”

Wolffe scoffed, but nodded. “Fine, fine.” Wolffe huffed, taking a shaky step away. “Can I go back to the barracks now?”

Seventeen sighed not fully satisfied. Something was still off, and Wolffe had brushed him off too quickly for his liking. But now it was time to be a Commando again. “You have twelve more suicides left, cadet.”

Wolffe whined, stamping his foot like a tubeling. “What? C’mon, Seventeen-“

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Do you want it to be fifteen more?”

Wolffe gave Seventeen a weak glare, then crossed back to the edge of the gym. “I’m going to miss all the good food!”

“Wolffe snarled, heading towards Fox. It’s a blur of limbs, blocking, punching, and clawing. Desperate fighting. They weren’t exactly using the moves he’d taught them, but they’d been at this for hours - the other three were long gone. Fox and Wolffe had been unruly and out of line as usual, so Seventeen hoped the extra exercise would tire them out, but that seemed to only be working for one of them.

tag list: @tazmbc1

***

Kote wasn’t worried about decommissioning. To him, it was a bedtime story told to tubelings in order to keep them in line. But by now he was four standard years old - he was high in the rankings during training, he fit perfect in his batch.

On the other hand, he also never expected for Jango Fett to come find him. Kote worshiped the ground Jango walked on - he’d named him, Mando’a for glory. It meant more than Kote would admit to his vod. Jango didn’t like the clones. But to Kote, it felt like he was special. He felt more like Boba, the one ‘genetically perfect’ clone - or that’s how Jango explained it to him. Fox had been suspicious of Jango, but Kote just chalked it up to jealousy.

Regardless, when Jango had collected Kote - just Kote - from training, he’d felt a warm sensation of pride. He ignored the tightening of Seventeen’s jaw, the hardening of Fox’s eyes, and followed in lockstep behind the Mandolorian. He didn’t ask any questions (that would just make Jango mad), holding his head up high as they walked. He passed other batches of cadets, sensing their eyes on him. Because he was with Prime, their genetic father, who seemingly disliked them all. And he was taking him-

-to medbay?

Kote sent a confused look to Jango, who gestured somewhat aggressively for him to enter. Three longnecks - Kote could never tell them apart - stood by one of the beds. Kote sat down, bring his knees to his chest. He felt like a zoo animal, trapped and watched by strangers. He had a bad feeling, his heart racing faster than after a twenty mile run.

“… too independent…”

“… too smart to decommission …”

“…reprogramming?..”

Kote caught snatches of the conversation, each word bringing him more and more dread. In his panic, he barely noticed the meddroids prepping for surgery - he’d seen it one of the times he’d snuck into medbay with Bly out of curiosity - and barely noticed the syringe poking into his arm right above his elbow. The world started spinning, his body feeling heavy.

Fox said he didn’t trust Jango. Maybe he was right. Actually, he was always right. Kote’s last thought before it all went black was that he should’ve listened to Fox.

***

“We need to see Kote.”

The words kept ringing through Seventeen’s head as he paced the commando barracks. Jango had come into training and taken Kote - and Seventeen was sure he knew where.

Kote was too independent for his own good. He could choose which orders to follow, learn things he shouldn’t - even with his batches unusual tendencies, Kote was a standout. And for Jango to be showing interest in him…

A small form snored from Seventeens bunk. Fox had come into training after training, tears streaming and nose running. He knew something was wrong - he was too smart for his own good, observant or even the smallest details. For Fox to be crying was a bad sign, but if none of the others had come running in, it was clear they weren’t completely sure what was going on. Seventeen was relieved of that. He didn’t want to have the conversation again.

Reprogramming was not a fun progress. It left cadets confused, numb, and stunted for a few weeks. And even once the major effects wore off, they weren’t the same. They were too robotic, the worst parts of the clones programming amplified. And Kote - the heart of the group, the one all of them could go to - Kote would rather die than have that happen.

Seventeen was angry. Damn it, it wasn’t fair. Kote was a good soldier - just because he didn’t listen perfectly didn’t mean he wasn’t a good clone. But the longnecks and the Nulls only cared about obedience. They weren’t bothered by the idea of taking away a clones personality, just producing the best soldiers.

And Seventeen couldn’t protect them all from their wrath.

A soft sniffle made Seventeen stop pacing. He froze, staring at the bunk. Fox was seemingly awake, his curly hair sticking up at weird angles. He sat up, staring at Seventeen. He rubbed his swollen eyes, salty streaks still covering his face. “…s’he back yet?” He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Seventeen shook his head, sitting next to the boy. He thought for a moment, before letting out a soft exhale. “He won’t be back for a while.”

Fox looked down at the floor, a sad frown on his face. He sniffled again, the gears in his head clearly turning. “…what did he do wrong? He was a good soldier, right?”

Seventeen wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t tell the truth, Fox was too young. And besides - if he told him the real reason, Fox would probably rush to get decommed as soon as possible. “…don’t worry about it.”

Fox gave him a look - he saw right through the weak lie - but didn’t push it. Seventeen patted his shoulder softly, his tone softening. “Why don’t you get back to your batch? They’ll need you.”

Fox nodded, sliding out of the bunk. He sent Seventeen one last melancholy glance before turning and leaving the room, leaving Seventeen alone in his thoughts. He flopped back on the bunk, trying to fight the conflicting emotions rising in his gut. Anger, frustration, fear, sadness - why did his cadets have to go through this? Seventeen felt like he failed them. He should’ve been more attentive, more careful-

The door slid open again, and Seventeen lifted his head to see who it was. Fordo, standing in the doorway, gave him a pitiful look. “I heard.”

Seventeen nodded, sitting up again. “Yeah.”

The two Commandos sat in silence. Seventeen wondered what Fordo was thinking. Fordo had one of the other command batches, and his was fine. His was normal. Seventeen wasn’t jealous of his cadets - he liked his just fine. No, he was jealous of their safety.

“It’s a shame.” Fordo sighed, shaking his head sadly. “He had so much potential.”

Anger rose in Seventeen’s chest. “He’s not gone, he’s just reprogrammed.” He snapped. Fordo looked at him, as if he was about to say something and then deciding to just let Seventeen be naive. He walked over to his own bunk, starting to slowly take off his armor. “…I suppose.”

Seventeen huffed. He could practically feel the judgment coming from Fordo, and he had a cadet to find. He stood up, ignoring Fordo’s questions, and left the barracks.

***

It took hours of begging and yelling and punching for someone to finally tell him what Kote’s status was. One of Nala Se’s assistance tells him (in a sickly sweet tone) that Kote is stable and will be released shortly, Seventeen could go back to his barracks.

As if.

Seventeen stood in the foyer of the medbay, ignoring the judgmental looks given to him by the longnecks. He doesn’t see any sign of Jango, which makes him more angry. He took a kid - a kid - to get reprogrammed, and he had the audacity to leave him alone. He was going to find him, take his fist and-

The door sliding open distracted him from planning his revenge. Nala Se walked out, a proud expression on her pale, flat face. By her side was Kote - his face completely void of any emotion. Seventeen stood at attention, despite wanting to just grab the kid and go.

“The reprogramming of CC-2224 was a success.” Nala Se spoke with an overconfident tone to her voice. Her and her little crew thought themselves to be gods. Seventeen was sick of it.

But if anything, this was just proving to him why he needed to be there for his batch. The Kaminoans would always be watching, always ready to decomm them. If Seventeen were there, he could stop it. At least most of it.

It wouldn’t happen again.

Nala Se finished her discussion of some scientific findings from the operation, waiting for Seventeen to respond. He hadn’t been paying attention, so he just cleared his throat and nodded. Luckily, Nala Se didn’t seem to really care what he had to say. She released Kote’s hand and walked back into the medbay. Seventeen had the terrible thought that if he wasn’t here, they wouldn’t just left Kote on his own.

Seventeen reached his hand out for the boy, who stared at it blankly. Seventeen sighed, scooping him up and carrying him. It hurt that the boy didn’t react - Kote would’ve been fighting him every step of the way. Instead, he sat limply. Like dead weight.

Seventeen walked back to the cadet barracks, noting the empty hallways. It must be late, and most troopers must be in their bunks. Regardless, Seventeen wasn’t surprised when he walked into Command Batch 02’s barracks and found the entire batch sitting up. Or, almost the entire batch. Wolffe sat on Kote’s bed, Fox sleeping with his head against his shoulder. Bly sat with Ponds on his bed, whispering soft words of reassurance as Ponds sniffled. The three awake cadets snapped their heads towards the door. They’d been waiting. Wolffe’s face erupts into a wide grin.

“Kote-“ he’s interrupted by Bly shushing him and pointing to Fox “- you’re back! I- why are you looking at me like that?”

Seventeen put Kote down on his bunk. “He’s gonna be a little weird for a while.

“Sir, is he okay?” Bly asked softly, fear laced in his voice. Seventeen nodded. He hoped it wasn’t a lie.

“He will be, don’t worry.”

Kote was looking around the barracks currently, his brothers watching him warily. It was wrong - normally, they’d be laughing and talking and fighting (Seventeen had found his way outside the door a few times, just to assure himself they were still alive). Now, it was too quiet. Seventeen cleared his throat, giving the boys a small nod.

“…I’ll leave you to it.”

***

It wasn’t normal, but it was better.

Kote was still good at strategy. He was still the fastest with assembling his weapon. He was just less creative, less optimistic, less unique.

Less independent.

The strain could be seen - Fox had avoided Kote like the plague for a good two months. But by now (after a lot of coaxing by Bly) the batch seemed to have found a new normal.