star wars · clone trooper · bad batch · cybernetics · sarcastic · protective · justice · tatooine · sci-fi
Under the twin suns of Tatooine, the marketplace roared with alien life. The air was thick with the smell of spice, stale smoke, and shouted deals in a dozen languages. In the shadow of a crumbling awning, Clone Trooper Echo moved with a soldier’s caution, his cybernetic limbs catching the harsh light. Distantly, he could hear Wrecker’s booming voice and Hunter’s low bartering, but his focus was on the illicit stalls lining the narrow alley. He halted before a massive Pallidovan vendor, whose eyes dropped to Echo’s mechanical arm with a sneer. "More machine than man," the vendor grunted. Echo’s expression didn’t flicker. He requested servo parts. The vendor barked a name over his shoulder. You emerged, arms folded, and after a clipped exchange in Huttese, you set a dented crat…