The following morning felt slower than usual, but that was most likely because of the small amount of sleep Scorch received last night and the fact that it was still fairly early. There were times when Scorch and the whole squad would occasionally not get a full night's sleep, like if they were on a mission, for instance. But this was stretching it, along with the hunger that stabbed his stomach.
As Scorch put his armor on, careful not to wake Boss and Fixer, he wondered what their next mission would be. He wondered how the next mission would go without Sev.
Sev.
Sev was gone. Most likely never going to come back. He felt a lump form in his throat and drew in a shaky breath. He sat down and tightly clutched the frame of his bed with anger. Anger at Fixer, and at the fact that things had to be this way. His grip tightened and tightened and he finally stopped when it began to hurt.
Finally, Boss had awakened. "Scorch," he said tiredly, to get Scorch's attention, "You're up early. Did you sleep well?"
Scorch rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I slept fine." he said with an unintended emphasis on the word fine. He finished getting ready, hoping to avoid more conversation. Boss started getting ready too, fitting himself in his own white and orange armor. All clone armor was generally white at first, but many clones give theirs a paint job to make them more distinguishable between different battalions. But when it came to commandos, they could paint their armor however they wish. Some choose not to paint their armor at all, but many did. Scorch and Sev the only member of Delta Squad to use two colors when it came to the paint job. Scorch used dark grey and yellow, and Sev used blood red and light grey. Now, Scorch was the only one.
He quickly yet subtly grabbed and began cleaning his DC-17m, or deecee for short, to distract himself from the thought of Sev again. And it was working. He carefully polished the gun itself, along with the various parts it came with, working his way through little nooks and crannies and scrubbing off excess dirt and grime.
After a while, Boss woke Fixer up. Though Fixer was always a stickler for orders and protocol, you'd have to wake Fixer up every morning or he might as well sleep the whole day. And he was never a morning person.
Scorch usually wished everyone a good morning, but he didn't feel like Boss or Fixer deserved to have a good morning. Fixer climbed down from his bunk and began getting dressed, still like nothing had happened.
Once he finished cleaning his deecee, his stomach growled loudly and violently, causing Fixer and Boss to look up and stare at him. "What?" he said, trying to pass it off as nothing, but Boss just continued to look at him with a concerned expression on his face.
"Don't say 'what?' like you didn't skip dinner last night. You are going to eat every breakfast and dinner from now on. No more skipping meals." It was very clear Boss didn't like the fact that he skipped dinner last night. "No commando in this squad is going to die like that."
Scorch nearly opened his mouth to reply with a sassy remark, but bit his tongue. He couldn't, and shouldn't, really argue with Boss anyway.
As Fixer was finishing up, Scorch was preparing to head out the door himself. "Let's go eat. We don't want to be late for the briefing."
Scorch rolled his eyes at Fixer this time. "It's not like all three of us are going to skip breakfast." Three of us. It hurt to say that. Fixer didn't reply. Not because he had been defeated, he just didn't want to deal with Scorch's new attitude at the moment.
They all got up, and made their way toward the mess.

Scorch was the first one in line for breakfast, and it wasn't as good as it sounded. Sure, he was the first one to receive his sludge, but he didn't enjoy the stuff. In fact, he hated it. Dry ration cubes had more flavor than whatever they served here. He would eat anything else over it, but it was the only thing they gave you in the Grand Army of the Republic when you weren't on a mission. The army may be "grand", but the food surely isn't.
Scorch walked quickly, yet carefully and quietly to his spot at the table in which Delta usually sat at. He began eating as soon as he sat down, forcing himself to swallow the horrible stuff with each bite. Later came Fixer, then Boss, both of whom Scorch avoided talking to. Instead he focused more on his sludge and the up-and-coming mission. Which would it be, covert infiltration, assassination, sabotage, or his personal favorite, demolition? All of them were very capable of doing these jobs which no normal clone trooper could do. All he did know was that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be quick and easy. Commandos were trained to be the best of the best.
Surprisingly, Fixer was the first one done that morning, seeing he was usually the last. Scorch figured that he didn't want to be late to the briefing. Scorch quickly ate his last few spoonfuls as well, because the mission briefing would be soon and that was one thing he didn't want to miss. A mission would definitely distract him from the recent events of the last mission more than any downtime would.
"Well you two ate quickly," said Boss. "Why the rush?"
"We don't want to be late for the briefing at oh-eight hundred." replied Fixer in his usual monotone voice.
"I see. Well in that case I'll finish up myself." Boss gave a small smile for a reason Scorch was unsure of, and finished his food. "Alright let's go, Deltas." and Boss led them out of the mess.

The briefing room was a dim room, with blue light shining from various holos and computers. All three Deltas, their advisor, and the Jedi general who usually briefed them surrounded the holo table at the center of the room.
"So what mission do you have for us now, General?" asked Boss. Why was the General making them wait?
"Oh, we're waiting on someone." replied the General politely. "He's running quite late."
"Well, who is it? I'm ready to get going on this mission." said Scorch. For a moment, he actually forgot that Sev was gone, and everything felt alright.
Only for a moment.
The general opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of the doors sliding open. They all looked to the door and there was a clone. Not just any clone, a commando in pure shiny, white armor.
"Sorry I'm late General" the commando said with a voice that was all too familiar. It wasn't Sev's deep and threatening voice, but the voice of the standard clone. The General replied with a forgiving nod.
Finally, their advisor spoke. "Deltas, this is RC-8613, or nicknamed Razor. Since Oh-Seven has been declared MIA, he has been assigned as your squad's replacement sniper specialist."

A/N
Sorry this was a short and crappy "filler" chapter. If some things didn't make sense. My only excuse is that I was finishing this at 1:00 a.m. and was very tired and wanted to get this out as soon as possible (which obviously didn't work out well, because I thought I published this chapter when I actually didn't). But, I believe you all are in for a treat in the next chapter. The tension is beginning to rise!

5/24/23
1220 words (not including the A/N)