[ Alpha? Misgiving flashes over Boba's face at that. Is that what they're calling him now? ]
My name is Boba, [ he repeats, more forcefully this time. It does make a sort of sense; he was the first clone to be created—Alpha. Still, it disconcerts him. Forced into some incomprehensible training sim and now referred to by a name that identifies him first and foremost as a clone, it feels all too much like he's being reduced to an experiment. And why not? Tech had said that he's part of an experimental group himself. If that's the case, what better control to use than the only clone who had ever been created unaltered?
Boba shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. ]
Just as well. Perhaps they want to see how we perform without oversight.
[ A wariness enters his eyes when Tech makes to approach, but once he understands the clone's intentions, he turns slightly to let him undo the bindings around his wrists. They hadn't been that tight, but he rolls his shoulders once freed anyway out of habit.
He pauses when Tech hands his helmet to him. The only helmet he's ever worn has been his father's. Even so, he recognizes the necessity of concealing his identity given what's suspected of him... ]
I'm still wearing the same clothes, [ he points out, leaving Tech's helmet untouched. There's also the fact that his clothes happen to be quite identifiable as a prison uniform. Putting a helmet on top won't make that any less obvious. He scans their surroundings, trying to judge how large this complex might be. ] If we're lucky, there might be an armory somewhere around here...
no subject
My name is Boba, [ he repeats, more forcefully this time. It does make a sort of sense; he was the first clone to be created—Alpha. Still, it disconcerts him. Forced into some incomprehensible training sim and now referred to by a name that identifies him first and foremost as a clone, it feels all too much like he's being reduced to an experiment. And why not? Tech had said that he's part of an experimental group himself. If that's the case, what better control to use than the only clone who had ever been created unaltered?
Boba shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. ]
Just as well. Perhaps they want to see how we perform without oversight.
[ A wariness enters his eyes when Tech makes to approach, but once he understands the clone's intentions, he turns slightly to let him undo the bindings around his wrists. They hadn't been that tight, but he rolls his shoulders once freed anyway out of habit.
He pauses when Tech hands his helmet to him. The only helmet he's ever worn has been his father's. Even so, he recognizes the necessity of concealing his identity given what's suspected of him... ]
I'm still wearing the same clothes, [ he points out, leaving Tech's helmet untouched. There's also the fact that his clothes happen to be quite identifiable as a prison uniform. Putting a helmet on top won't make that any less obvious. He scans their surroundings, trying to judge how large this complex might be. ] If we're lucky, there might be an armory somewhere around here...