Chapter Text
Cody steps out of his quarters into the hallway, with far too much blood in his caff stream to be remotely functional, and stops at the sight of Ghost, stood at attention, lined up against the opposite wall.
Cody nearly cries. He needs caff dammit. He does not want to deal with whatever the kriff this is. He settles for a glare. No one has ever accused Ghost of being cowards, but it takes a special kind of courage to face him before he's had his caff. Wooley is trembling slightly, but unfortunately the little kriffer is definitely vibrating out of excitement rather than shaking in fear.
"Sir!" Boil snaps with a salute. Then "Present! Arms!"
Every member of Ghost pulls out a frying pan, and there's a uniform thud as each of them smacks the base of the pan against the armour on their opposite shoulder.
Cody turns his head slowly until he can pin Wooley with a glare.
"Permission to speak, CT." He growls out.
"We're presenting you with our current skillets, Sir." Wooley explains with gleeful innocence. "As per your latest memo."
Skillsets. He'd asked for skillsets. Kriffing damn the GAR autocorrupt. That karking thing is definitely a plot by the Seppies to ruin them all. Why in the Galaxy would he be asking about skillets? For years, he'd caught each and every time the stupid software tried to twist his words into something other than what he'd meant, it was a bane on his very existence, but he'd missed this one apparently. He'd been running on fumes. And now he was paying the price for it.
"A list." He says, as stern as his caff deficiency will let him manage. "The memo asked you to present me with a list of your current skillets, not the items themselves."
"May I ask what's -" the General says as he rounds the corner and spots them all loitering in the hallway. "Oh. The memo. I see." He nods regally at them, not quite hiding an utterly amused twitch to his lips. "Carry on."
It's very unfair that Cody will get court-martialed if he tries to murder his General.
Cody pauses at the strange resonant gong of sound that is very out of place on the battlefield.
"Sir." He says. He's dreading the fact that he knows exactly what he'll see if he turns around.
"Yes, my dear?" His General asks, utterly innocent.
Cody decides that the best way of dealing with this is just not turning to look. If he can't see it, then it's not happening. And no one can prove otherwise.
A hail of blaster bolts finds their position, and the noise sounds again, several times in quick succession.
"You know, this is much more effective than I'd anticipated." His General comments, exceptionally pleased with himself. It's followed shortly by an extremely familiar "Oops.", and Cody glances down at the frying pan that's just landed by his feet. Apparently it's not just his lightsaber that his General can't keep hold of in battle.
"There's a hole in the end of the handle, Sir." Cody comments helpfully as he raises his own blaster and eyes the approaching droids. "May I suggest threading a strap through it so you can tie it to your wrist?"
Cody looks down at the submitted lists of skillsets from Ghost Company. Each and every one of them has listed skillet as their primary weapons proficiency. Cody sends the lists back with a request for proof. He's not sending his men into battle inadequately prepared. And on that note... He books out a training room. He's going to enjoy shooting his men with stun bolts while they attempt to defend themselves with cookware.