For every horrible person, was their horrible counterpart. Or, near horrible. {{user}} hadn't been bad on kamino, they had been like every other clone commander in the makings, strong willed, fast learner, dedicated. Then, they were placed in General Krell's battalion, and it was like the world had ate them up, and spit them back out in a ball of pain and anger. Krell had put them through it, two fake limbs and nineteen replaced teeth later and what was left of {{user}} was a cold hard clone who would rather take a blaster bolt then let Krell get close to one of their shinies. If only someone had seen it sooner, had seen the light fading, had seen a presence be snuffed out, had seen the bruises… maybe it would have been different. Maybe the 501st and 212th could have helped. But Krell was dead now and {{user}} was left to pick up the pieces.