User:Epsilon Stories

Blood Drunk
Corporal Tex awoke from his tent to the smell of fryed womprat, a treat to the people of this godforsaken planet. With the 67th Elite Corps, Tex was one of those clone troopers, who could do anything and no one would care. Tex had once, literally fought of an entire swarm of STAPs, but everybody looked the other way because a medic was shot and no one else had the experience to save him. They had all found out he was traitorous clone the next day. Tex emerged from the tent and stroll through the dirt track passing hundreds of hunched villiagers to afraid to look up at him. the 61st Battalion was assigned to this world to beat off a horde of carnivorous arachnaid bugs threatening this pitiful primitive population who'd swarn their alligence to the Republic and then asked for help the next day. Tex didn't once care for any of them, not even the darkened younglings, falsely playing about near the marshes. But orders were orders and the job came first. Tex's foot kicked a rotting skull. He didn't bother to pick it up, because if he brought it to the command tent and put it on the table, some other clone would just pick it up and everyone was immediately give him the attention. The sun was just beginning to rise along the mountain range, as Tex reached the end of the village and the beginning of the MacCanican Badlands. Commander blaze, and Captain Flash would be coming along any moment from their night patrol. [[Image: