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There’s a lot of things Fox might expect to see on his fucking planet at o’asscrack thirty in the morning.
501st fucking blue zooming across the sky with delighted cries is not one of those things.
How they’ve kept the jetpacks this long is a fucking mystery and now, unfortunately, Fox’s fucking problem.
“I’m going to murder them.” he says, clutching hot, black, blessed caf in his hand with a smile pleasant as anything.
“If you do,” Thorn asks, drawled and bleary-eyed, “does that mean we can keep the jetpacks?”
Fox glares vitriol out at 501st vod who think they’re bigger than their blacks with brain cells half as lonely.
He doesn’t dignify the question with an answer.
Thorn groans curses under his breath when his comm beeps. Fox is impressed, there’s quite a few new ones in there. Look at that, he can learn new things after all, who knew?
Fox is so proud, really, delighted.
He takes a drink of his cafe and looks back out to the current sources of his misery. Finds, to his fury and horror, that the five pains in his fucking side have multiplied in the scarce few seconds since he last looked.
He grits his teeth. Stone hums considering, “Actually, I like that plan, can we use that plan? Those Jetpacks would be so much better than the Meanders.”
They would but Fox is owing the little blonde shit nothing and is willing to encourage the blonde shit’s fucking idiots even less.
“The Meanders are Guard property,” Fox replies on rote, voice droll and even, “they should be respected and utilized to their fullest ability and those assigned to use them should remember that and strive to put their best foot forward in all affairs.”
Stone’s glare is sweet victory. See, Fox isn’t the one who has to use those monstrosities most of the time, he might hate them but he can avoid them.
“What I want to know,” he asks, ignoring the grumbling from that corner, “is who the fuck decided this was a good fucking idea, and which dumbass I have to hang out the karking window by their fucking entrails.”
Thire glances up from his reports, back very firmly to the window and ignoring everything.
Fucker, it’s his problem too.
“If you get blood and gore on the side of the building,” he hisses, glaring at both Fox and his delicious caf — a shame that the communal caf makers are all broken, really it is — and pointing an accusing finger, “you are explaining it to the Senators. I deal with enough fainting Senators squeamish around blood thank you very much.”
Cute how Thire thinks he has any choice in the matter, Fox takes another sip of his caf.
The wordless cry of outrage really is worth it.
Outside, Torrent has taken over the Coruscanti sky and multiplied like a fucking infection.
Fox growls, “Where the fuck is the little blonde shit.”
Priority Alert
Fox: Who the fuck is responsilbe for the infestation on my fucking planet.
Priority Alert
Fox: Blond CT get the fuck over here and Explain
Priority Alert
Rex: I have no idea what you mean Fox, my men are just enjoying their leave time.
Priority Alert
Fox: Not a single one of them is using a fucking speeder, not one. Get them out of my sky before I make them.
Priority Alert
Rex: I didn’t know it was against the Reg’s for the men to use their specialized training to ensure that Coruscant’s skies are clear.
Priority Alert
Ponds: Oh No, please pause for 2 seconds, I want snacks for this trash fire.
Priority Alert
Fox: You got something to say shithead?
Priority Alert
Rex: Not at all, just expressing my confusion over the cause of your anger Commander.
Priority Alert
Fox: Why the Fuck are none of your idiots using a fucking speeder.
Priority Alert
Rex: Speeders in Guard territory unfortunately seem to end up sliced into a lot. It was deemed only practical to ensure no one could tamper with GAR property by never allowing them the chance to in the first place.
Priority Alert
Thire: Oh No.
Priority Alert
Ponds: Wolffe, Wolffe come here you owe me money, Wolffe
Priority Alert
Wolffe: I want no part of this, I’ve never met any of you in my life, Rex is Cody’s.
Priority Alert
Cody: Coward.
Priority Alert
Ponds: You’re just mad the pack isn’t allowed back on the Playground yet.
Priority Alert
Bacara: All of you are disgraces.
Priority Alert
Doom: Anyone else?? Remember that war??? That we’re fighting??? Or is that just me?
Priority Alert
Stone: Kot to Thire
Priority Alert
Ponds: Kot
Priority Alert
Cody: Kot
Priority Alert
Thorn: kot
Priority Alert
Wolffe: Kot
Priority Alert
Fox: I hope you all choke on something. And don’t fucking remind me about the fucking glitter, I’ll make sure you can’t spawn any blights upon the universe and I’ll use something dull to do it
Thire eyes the doorway, careful calculation and a hint of desperation, all traces of tiredness or crankiness from the lack of caf gone.
Fox smiles wide, drains the last of his caf.
Stone looks between them, judges whether it would be worth it to get in between them, and comes to the conclusion it’ll be better to stay where he is.
Smart vod.
“I am not the only one part of that,” Thire starts to protest, obviously aware it’s a losing argument before he’s even started.
“Why do I have Torrent fucking around in my airspace Thire.” he asks, knows the answer.
Thire winces, glances to Thorn for help.
Fox pins him with a glare too and Thorn winces, taps a kot out and goes back to wrangling the senator from Lothal.
Thire sighs, “Torrent is all karking insane, Blockade helped, and it didn’t even work because, as previously stated, they’re all karking insane.”
“That,” Fox says, viciously pleased, “sounds distinctly like it’s Not My Problem, you know what is my problem? The fucking Torrents currently refusing to use speeders.”
Thire winces, narrows his eyes, plots, calculates, and finally sighs in defeat.
Fox grins, “You know, I bet the mousedroids would love some help with the playground, the glitter still hasn’t come out.”
Thire’s hissed expletives are music to his ears.
Now, time to figure out how to get rid of the fucking pests, or at very least get them in a fucking speeder.
He narrows his eyes, watches the blue streaks in the air and plans.
He grimaces, he needs far more caf to deal with this dumpster heap.