OOC: Rogueboy will be handling this one folks!

Across the capital of Malastare three 12-man squads had assembled themselves. Negotiations had not been going that great for the Imperials and therefore wanted to try moving them along by force. The New Republic would have no idea about the advance and therefore would not have time enough to call for re-enforcements; ensuring that control of the planet would go to the empire. Prior to their dividing into groups Major Perez Santiago had briefed all the squads as to their goals.

Sergeant Kartov was in charge of the Banshee squad. Along with Corporal Curt (his assistant) he ran the squad with an iron fist. The troopers respected him but they knew that they needed to do this Kartov's way or don't do bother trying (not to mention the reprocussions they would face). Private First Class Rell Arren was their newest member yet he outranked some of the troopers who had more service time. When he went through the Academy he excelled so well that they decided to give him an early promotion for his efforts. The good thing about Rell was that he didn't suck up to his superiors like most new troopers. He respected them of course, but did not go out of his way to make it known that he did. Aside from the command, Lance Corporal Proidio Zeff had been with Banshee the longest and therefore was the highest ranking. He didn't talk much but got the job done. Kartov and Curt knew that no matter what task they assigned to Zeff no matter how difficult: he would get it done. Aside from these four there were eight other troopers that made up the Banshee Squad.

Banshee Squad had been assigned to take control of communications on Malastare....in particular the capital. Luckily the Communications Tower was more or less for the whole planet. There were other forms of communication but no one in the surrounding area (that the empire was aware of) used these methods. Even if the New Republic did catch on and call for re-enforcements, the empire would have already knocked out and been in controll of communications on the planet. It would simply be too late. Or so they thought. What they did not know is that when Major Perez Santiago was briefing the sqads, his brother Dominiq Santiago was listening in. He assembled his own group of squads and they were waiting for the empire at each strategic location. In the case of the communications tower: Chimera Squad was on the hunt.

Sergeant Tank ran Chimera squad but differed vastly in comparison to Sergeant Kortov. First off...tank was not his real name. He got the name Tank because he was "built" like a tank. Also unlike his opponent, his squad was not all human. A good 50% of his squad was at least half alien or worse. Tank earned their respect by giving it back to them. He was not a slave driver like his opponent was. He was fair and merciful; and was open to any new ways of getting things done. His assistant, Corporal Vurdan Olias was very much the same way. Aside from the two of them there were 10 others that made up the Chimera Squad for the New Republic and were waiting for Banshee Squad at the Communications Tower.

Sergeant Kartov marched percussively along the rank of his squad looking at each one individually in the face. He was preparing them for their mission.

“First off, you all must remember who is running this squad. I cannot afford to have anyone try to be a hero. If you really want to be a hero then you should step forward now and I’ll go ahead and make you one,” Kartov gruffly spoke. No trooper was dumb enough to play hero. Each one was sure as hell knew that they did not want their sergeant to make them one. The troopers knew that they would be dead if Sergeant Kartov made them a ‘hero.’

“Our objective is to take control of the communications tower and dig in,” Kartov continued sternly, “If you listen to what I have to say and follow every order I give, we will get through this no problem.”

These words were the regular lecture that the Banshee squad leader gave to the squad at the beginning of each and every mission they have gone on. The older troopers could have spoken along with their sergeant if asked.

“Banshee squad will move out in thirteen minutes, don’t be late! Dismissed!” Kartov finished. The squad disbanded to do the final preparations on their gear. If one was to look at Kartov’s face, they could tell that the gears were not only turning, but they were really moving quickly.

Only eleven minutes had passed before all of the Banshee troopers were back in rank with their helmets on and weapons in hand. There was a reason the squad was called Banshee and the reason could be seen in the trooper’s helmets. The helmets were black and had tattered cloth hanging from the lower portion. As the squad moved it looked like monsters were on the move.

The Banshee squad left their hiding post with a gesture from their sergeant. They were heading to the communications tower, which was rather simple to find. It was the only large radio tower in the city after all.

The squad moved erratically, not in what could be called a formation. Their weaving motions kept them in what shadows were around and allowed them to get to cover should they be fired upon. It was clear they had done a number of missions inside of cities.

An explosion sounded not too far from Banshee’s current location. Kurt waved a gesture and the squad took cover into an alley way. Kartov, on the other hand, continued on by himself a little ways. He scaled an escape latter to the top of a building. He was able to spot the smoldering crater and a speeder crammed full of white helmets on the other side of a freight truck. “Excellent, they took the bait.”

He made his way back to the Banshees. He gave a nod of confirmation. “Back alley time, boys,” Kurt said quietly. The squad waited as their squad leader and second in command took the lead. They continued their movements towards the communications tower.

“They do know that we are here. That’s good,” Kartov said over the com-link.

When it came, it didn't hurt as much as Wolf thought it would. Just an impact in the back and a sudden shortness of breath. The force of the blow threw him forwards, and he almost lost his balance. The New Republic trooper tried to keep running, but found he couldn't stay upright. He fell heavily onto his knees, his breathing ragged. Cursing in his native language, Wolf attempted to get to his feet, but his legs refused to move and everything below his waist seemed to be frozen.

Reaching back with one hand, his fingers confirmed what he had suspected. The blaster bolts had burned their way through plastoid, body armour, and flesh. The energy beams had burned inch deep holes in his body, severing his spine. Thankfully, they had also instantly carbonized the nerves in the affected areas, ensuring there was no pain. That would give him the focus he needed to do what he had to.

"Wolf?"

Olias had stopped and was looking back at the fallen trooper. Damn kid. Idealistic, but when the shooting started, he was as good a man as could be asked for. Olias would be more useful back at the tower; he was too useful for him to waste his life but not good enough to take an entire squad of stormies by himself. All this passed through Wolf's head in the moment it took for him to reply.

"Go, sir. Give the cap'n my regards."

"What?"

"I said get out of here. Sir."

Even talking was becoming difficult now, and the world was turning slightly fuzzy. The lines in the corner of his HUD representing heart rate and other vitals were beginning to decline, becoming flat. His hearing still keen, Wolf heard the thumping of plastoid boots on duracrete behind him. It wouldn't be long now. Dimly, some part of his slowly shutting down brain wondered if this mission had been a mistake. He pondered this for a moment, but decided it no longer mattered.

"But..."

The damn kid was still standing there.

"Go..."

Olias opened his mouth to protest, but fell silent when he saw the senior trooper's exposed back. He looked silently for a moment, then nodded.

"Good luck."

With that, he was gone, and Wolf was alone again. The troopers were very close now, only a turn away. Only one thing he could really do now. Wolf reached down to his belt, and activated the delayed triggers for all of his thermal detonators.  Wolf was strangely calm.

It would be the end to a long and successful career, which had started on a remote farm on the other side of the galaxy more than a decade ago and had stretched over a dozen campaigns. He'd been the only survivor of his clan. The white armoured humans had come down from the stars and brought death with them. Everyone he knew had been killed, and he'd been taken as a prisoner to work on some Moff's pet project. Then had come salvation. A chance Alliance raid had freed him. They'd given him a tunic, a blaster, and some credits before dropping him off on a nearby trading colony. He'd wandered for a while, bereft of purpose, of his clan before his true purpose had become clear. Since he'd lost his clanmates, he'd felt like he was dead. This was simply the Galaxy playing catchup.

A death's-head poked it's way out of the alley, followed by the rest of the armoured Imperial. Two more flanked him, their rifles raised.  Three Imps. More than he could have hoped for. Not long now.

The trio spread out into a V shape, their rifles trained on the Weequay. Taking care to move slowly and carefully, Wolf reached down to his belt and removed one of the ticking detonators, taking a certain amount of pleasure in the unconscious step back by the Imperial point man.

"Watch this."

The ticking stopped.

OOC:

Casualty Count in this post:1 NR trooper dead, 1 fleeing. 1 VE trooper dead, 2 injured.

Banshee squad leader, Sergeant Kartov, has sent his most diligent trooper, Zeff, and the rookie, Rell, off to the side of their approach. They were to strike at the substation off the side of the communications tower.

“Bring down their power and keep it that way until we need it,” Kartov told the two before sending them off. Zeff nodded, kept silent, and headed off with Rell.

Moments after the two had left, a firefight broke out. The blaster shots echoed throughout the area. Rell being new and not have seen actual combat was doing his best to maintain his nerves. Zeff, on the other hand, became looser and looser as more and more combat came about.

They weave in between buildings and down alley ways. It was a long and roundabout way to get to their target, which appeared across the street in front of them as they rounded a corner. Darting across the street could alert the enemy to their presence, but that is a chance the two must take.

Zeff let out a sort grunt and rushed across the street. He was followed shortly by his squad mate. There was no sign of alarm of their presence. The duo kept close to the side of the tower. Rell was mindful of the rear as Zeff took the point. Little to the two’s notice, the gunfight had silenced.

Zeff move the two deliberately and cautiously. Their slow movements allowed for little motion detection and for a surprise guest to appear from behind them. The New Republic trooper was stunned at seeing two of the troopers that she had just been fighting. Rell held the same awe as his adversary.

The tension between the two would have melted the brain of a womprat in mere seconds. The only thing that broke the two of the trance was a sudden blaster shot. Rell jumped and felt his heart nearly give out. The New Republic trooper did not even get a chance to feel startled before she fell to the ground with little of her head remaining.

“We must move now,” Zeff said turning back towards his goal. Rell understood. A little of his nerves towards combat melted, but he still was nowhere near at the efficiency as his comrade. The two finished off their move to the power substation and ducked inside.

OOC:

Casualty count this post: 1 NR dead
Overall: NR -3 and Imp -4
I think that is the total right now, let me now and I'll alter it.

Tank was still sitting there when the datapad buzzed again. Instantly, he froze.

Not another Chimera. Not another of my troopers.

Somewhere along the line, they'd passed from being fellow soldiers to something closer to family. Certainly they were the closest he'd had since Kryptos had stripped his biological family from him just over two years earlier. Now, as he slowly reached for the device that would tell him know which of his men had fallen, he suddenly felt drained. The Chimera had lost almost a third of their numbers, and several of the survivors were wounded. Now, as Tank looked at the list, he saw the letters "NRIS-511" scroll across the screen, followed by biological data and a thin human face. Seconds later, it was followed by "NRIS-403". Two good troopers. Both dead. Tank tapped a key, and the images vanished. He'd failed them; betrayed the trust they'd placed in him.


"Sergeant?"

Olias was looking at him, his concern plain. Tank shook his head.

"We've lost Solvan and Brena."

The mixed sentient seemed to slump slightly, and he let the rifle drop to the ground.

"Damn."

No more time for guilt. I have to stop any more of my troopers from losing their lives.

"Are my men in position?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Tank picked up the beam rifle and shoved a power cell into position. The weapon's scope came online, and began quietly humming as the squad leader began to look for targets.

***

Private First Class Mathias Fane was having a wonderful morning. First one Imp, then another had fallen with slugthrower rounds in their chests. Their thick armour made the weapon much less efficient than a blaster rifle, but the sleek standard-issue beam rifles just didn't have the same feel as the projectile weapon. The recoil, the sudden heat in the long barrel; those more than made up for certain inefficiencies.

Mathias fired another shot and was rewarded by a twitch from the fallen Imp. The armoured Imperial looked like a black beetle lying on its back, legs twitching as it desperately tried to get up. The remaining two uninjured hostiles crawled to cover, dragging their wounded comrade with them. Laughing quietly, Fane fired one last shot, intentionally hitting the ground just ahead of the lead stormtrooper's feet. Slowly and deliberately, he removed the depleted clip and let the casings drop. As they bounced off the building, he slammed another clip into the rifle and brought it back up with savage good cheer.

"Come on, plastic boy. Come out and play..." Fane muttered to himself as he moved the weapons barrel to the sculpture the Imps were hiding behind. He saw a piece of plastoid become momentarily exposed and pumped a trio of shots into the area. It quickly dropped out of sight. Whistling a popular marching song, Fane waited. Almost a minute later, he saw one of the Imps emerge from his cover and begin to crawl across the street, confident either that his armour concealed him or that the sniper was gone. Fane's grin widened.

"Oh, how I love this job...."

Deliberately, he clicked off the rifle's safety and began to track the moving target. The oblivious Imperial continued to crawl, his rifle slung across his back and a pistol in hand. Fane's finger tightened on the tigger, crosshairs centered on the nearly invisible gap between the trooper's helmet and backpack.

"Scratch one Imp."

Suddenly, the scope was filled with an orange glow. The J-4 rocket flew inches away from the sniper's face and impacted on the duracrete wall above him, consuming it and the sniper in a ball of flame and shrapnel. Fane's rifle flew from his limp hands and landed on the pavement below, bouncing once before coming down again with its barrel bent beyond repair. Fane himself was thrown from the ledge by the shockwave, and landed on a balcony three levels below, his bones snapping on impact. Before the darkness took him, he couldn't help but wonder if the trooper he'd killed would be waiting for him there.

Near a window in the com tower, a datapad buzzed.

OOC:

Surviving Republic Forces:
Sergeant Tank
Corporal Vurdan Olias – wounded
Lance Corporal Payton Onazi
Private First Class Solvan Dekkar
Private First Class Brena Howles
Private First Class Leui Mathial
Private Niri Batan
Private Fane
Private Fiera Donto
Private Markus Felor

1 Banshee killed, one critically wounded. Rocketeer is alive and well.

“Damn, there goes more of us. This is turning into a suicide mission,” Kartov thought to himself. He turned to the remaining members of the Banshee squad. He was deep in thought before being snapped back to reality.

“Sir?” Curt asked, “The sniper has lost his weapon and is on the retreat.”

“Finish him off. I don’t care what it takes.”

Curt nodded. He lifted his Deathwind sniper off of his back and took aim still hidden around the corner. The New Republic trooper was holding his arm after the near miss of the rocket. Curt grinned and fired. The retreating trooper took two steps before realizing he was unable to breathe. He looked down and found a large hole where his right lung should be. He stumbled a few steps more and plummeted down the side of the communications tower.

Mean while in the power substation, Rell was still a little shaken by the gun fire, but was gradually becoming accustomed to it. Zeff plugged away at the console. After a few moments, Rell noticed the entrance of two Republic soldiers enter the building on one of the security monitors.

“Zeff, we’ve got company. Hurry it up,” Rell spun around and readied his rifle. His life was more important to him at that moment than anything else. Zeff practically ignored his comrade and continued on.

Moments later, the security monitors shut off, the lights blacked, and all that was left was darkness. Zeff was certain that they were not the only ones in the dark.

“Those in the communications tower are in the dark as well,” Zeff mumbled. He was sure that it would only be a few minutes before the tower’s backup generator kicked on. He moved out the door with his weapon in hand, “Turn your night vision on.”

That was one thing with imperial technology, if there was a need for it; it was probably in the trooper’s armor in some fashion. This kept the troopers from having to carry large backpacks of gear.

Back on the streets, Curt saw the lights in the tower shut off. He fell back around the corner to the rest of the group.

“Sergeant, they’ve knocked out the power. This is our window, while they are in the dark.”

“Yes, we must make haste. That tower is bound to have backup generators that will power up soon.”

The squad made way towards the tower leaving their wounded behind. It was the Banshee’s common understanding that if they were to become less useful to the squad they would be left behind. No feelings would be hurt.

The grenade went off, its explosion only slightly muffled by the doorseal. A second later, there were a trio of clangs as plastoid armour hit durasteel.

Batan smiled to herself and raised her A280 slightly higher. She had stripped the weapon, along with several valuables, from a dead officer on the lush jungle world of Gornab II. Powerful enough to rip through Imp armour, yet light enough to easily wield and aim, it was in many ways the most effective rifle on the battlefield. 

Directly behind her stood Privates Donto and Felor, the newest additions to the squad. Niri found them boringly idealistic, still eager to answer the Republic's call and defend their freedoms. This was only their second mission, and they still believed the Republic cared about them and their survival. Niri had no such illusions, but was shrewd enough to keep her opinions to herself. Outspoken troopers stood out, and standing out meant premature retirement at the hands of Samuel Stormie. In the near-complete darkness, it was hard to make anything out, but the grey-white armour made it easy to spot the two other Privates. Tapping them on the shoulder, she waved them forwards. Private Felor nodded, then ran towards the still shut doorseal. The gateway slowly hissed open, much to Niri's annoyance. The sooner she confirmed the kills, the sooner she could get upstairs and see if there was anything worth repossessing.

With a continuous groan, the three durasteel pieces slid open, and Markus walked through. Looking left and right, he walked down the short stretch of hallway and to the twisted corpse of the Banshee trooper. Drawing his sidearm, Markus put a finger to the man's neck. The exposed skin was cold, and the sticky puddle and sizable hole in the hostile's midsection told him everything he needed to know. Choking down the sudden acid feeling in his throat, the Private began to give a status report over the com.

"Hostile down. All clea.."

A bolt of red energy streaked down the hallway, momentarily illuminating the long row of doors. It impacted Private Markus Felor half an inch below his unguarded face, melting away tissue and metal on contact. He tried to scream but only managed to emit a gurgling whisper. A second and third bolt impacted the dying man, vaporizing body armour and flesh alike. The force of the shots lifted him off his feet and threw him backwards. Felor fell with a loud thump, and his rifle clattered to the ground besides him.

"Markus!"
His best friend, the Bothan Fiera shouted to the trooper. When no response came, he knew what had happened. The shock felt like a cold hand gripping his heart, but rage soon overcame grief and the trooper charged out, ignoring Batan's protests. Running as fast as he could, the Private screamed incoherently, firing his weapon into the walls as he went. He rounded the corner, part of his mind noting the pair of corpses lying on the durasteel floor. His keen eyes saw movement at the end of the hallway, and he quickly threw himself to the ground. A moment later, the space he had been standing a moment earlier was filled with azure and crimson energy.

Panting, the Private knew he had fouled up. If he tried to run, he'd be gunned down before he could say "Coruscant", and there were two of the Imps at the other side. In a moment they'd adjust their aim, and he would be dead. As he pondered this, he realised that his knee was brushing his former comrade's belt, and that there was a spherical object clipped to it. Time seemed to slow as he realised what it was. Suddenly, it all made sense to Donto. As he unclipped the thermal detonator, one bolt and then another burned into his shoulder, but it wasn't important. This was what he had been meant to do; what he had signed up for. The world seemed to spin, but he fought the feeling off and struggled to his feet. He was about to fullfil his duty.

A standard issue Class-E Anti-Infantry thermal detonator had a blast radius of approximately 2.5 meters and raised the temperature within the radius to over 200 degrees. Translated into real terms for the Banshees, this resulted in a hellish fireball and heatwave, followed by a cloud of shrapnel that penetrated armour and fabric. The bodies of the two strormtroopers fell and began to burn in their own armour. Donto managed to smile before his eyes closed for the last time.

***

Batan stood, shaking slightly. Her little ambush had suddenly fallen apart, and she was , to the best of her knowledge, the last surviving sentient in the building. As she slowly backed towards the wall, her mind raced for ways she could explain her unauthorized actions and subsequent (planned) desertion of her post. There was no way she was going to stay in this underground death trap for another minute. She backed into something solid, and slid down slightly. Then, completely out of the blue, she felt something cold and hard touching her throat, followed by a burning sensation. Too late, she heard the rustle of a bodyglove and the quiet rasp of a stormtrooper helmet. She tried to shriek, but nothing came out. Three seconds later, it was over.

Under his helmet, the Imperial Sergeant's face was frozen in a scowl. He looked at his victim, whose fear-covered face was half submerged in a pile of her own blood. Viciously, he kicked the body, staining the poriton of wall it came to rest again. The Chimeras had cost him too many of his men. He paused for a second, wiping his combat knife on the Twi'leks tunic as he did so, then set off into the facility.

****
The datapad whined repeatedly, but there was no one left there to hear it.

Technician Sern Herdon was not having a good day. Just a few hours ago, the perimeter alarms had gone off. Following standard procedure, he had called it in, and gone to reset the sensors. Then, the explosions had started to echo throughout the facility. Normally, the facility would be guarded by two squads of Malastare Defense Force troopers, but the breakdown of negotiations had coincided with a public holiday, leaving the facility to be staffed by a trio of guards and Herdon's coworker. They'd left several units ago, and Herdon hadn't heard anything from them since. He'd called for back-up, but no one had replied.

Herdon had a standard issue blaster pistol one of the guards had tossed at him on his way out, but had no idea how to use it. Crouched in the near-darkness of a deserted office, he wondered just what had happened to the others. Slowly, he worked up the courage to creep to a transparisteel window and look for any sign of his fellow employees.

The street was covered with debris, and the statue that had dominated the plaza was in pieces, some of which had been thrown into nearby buildings. There were several black suited bodies in the streets. At least one was still feebly struggling, leaving a trail of dried blood behind it. Sern shook his head, and was beginning to turn away when he heard a quiet humming. A large, bulky transport rounded the corner, it's heavy laser cannon turning from side to side as the gunner searched for targets. It came to an abrupt stop directly in front of the com tower, and New Republic troopers poured from its troop hatches. Herdon didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

While the Republic forces were attacking the building, they were rumored to be more merciful than their Imperial counterparts, and all Sern wanted to do at this point was find someone to surrender to.He began to move towards the dooseal, intent on finally getting out of the warzone.

Then everything went to hell at once.

An angular, metallic projectile streaked from a nearby building, leaving a trail of thick black smoke in its wake as it homed in on the Republic transport. Someone with more military training might have identified the object as a Theta-4 rocket, launched from a  J-4 Anti-Vehicle Weapon. No experience was necessary, however, to note the effect the rocket had on the New Republic task force. It slammed into the transport's nose, vaporizing it in a hellish fireball and scattering shrapnel in all directions. The squad, most of which were still fairly close to the vehicle at the time, was thrown in all directions by the shockwave.

His ears still ringing, Herdon retreated to the desk and tried to pretend this wasn't happening. Rocking back and forth slightly, he muttered one phrase over and over again.

"I didn't sign up for this...I didn't sign up for this..."

Several stories below, the battle continued.

***

Sergeant Tank couldn't believe his ears, but the shock on the faces of his troopers confirmed his hopes. The voice that came over
the com was crisp and full of authority.

"This is Corporal Fingh. Any New Republic forces in the area, please acknowledge. Repeat, please acknowledge."

Rational thinking overcame Tank's disbelief, and he quickly activated the com unit.

"This is Sergeant Tank of Chimera Squad. We could use your men up here, trooper."

"Understood, sir. We're on our way."

That was when the speeder abruptly blew up. Tank blinked, trying to shake off the after-image.

"Corporal!"

There was no reply for several moments and the Chimera Squad leader was reduced to trying to see through the thick cloud of smoke bellowing from the ruined speeder. Then the blaster fire started, and a scratchy transmission came from the com device.

"Most...still alive....take out hostiles."

It was at that moment that Olias, who had been using the rifle to scan the surroundings for the past two minutes, tapped the Chimera leader on the shoulder. Wordlessly, he handed the rifle to Tank and pointed to a seemingly empty building.

Activating the rifle's scope, Tank searched the story Olias had pointed to, but found nothing but smooth glass and balconies. Then he saw a brief flicker of movement, and froze. It occurred again, followed by the glint of sunlight on a visor. Deliberately, Tank increased the magnification until he could see every scratch on the Imperial's plastoid armour. This was the bastard who had cost him three of his men, and Tank intended to balance the equation. His finger tightened on the trigger, and the Imperial fell with half his head missing.

It didn't make up for the Chimeras but it was a good start.

Not deterred by the incapitation of their comrade, the Banshees began to fire on the New Republic troopers milling around in the street. A Bothan private spun around as three consecutive shots punched through its light armourweave chest plate and reduced its torso to slag, and two other troopers fell clutching various wounds. Even as the casualties hit the ground, Corporal Fingh began to shout orders. Showing surprising discipline, the Alliance troopers quickly recovered and returned fire at the Banshees. Blue and red light streaked back and forth as a firefight began to rage in the street.

***

Jori Carver ducked, his body armour scraping on itself as he did so. A moment later, a pair of blaster rifle bolts impacted on the wall he had been standing in front of, showering him with vaporized duracrete and leaving an inch deep, smoldering crater in the building surface. Another grey suited figure jumped over the combat barrier, landing on its knees. Carver recognized the trooper as his fire team leader, Lance Corporal Fin Ulrand. The Faleen's body armour was pockmarked with carbonized patches, and there was a large hole in the side. underneath, the trooper's blackened skin and burned armour underlayers were visible. Despite his obvious pain, Ulrand still managed to give directions.

"Carver, can you see where some of the Sithspawn are hiding?"

As the squad's dedicated sniper, Carver was carrying a E-11/s rifle he'd liberated from an Imp early in his career. It was this weapon that he pulled from its back sling, flicking on the electronic scope as he did so. Scanning the rooftops, he saw a trio of heat signatures.

"Gotcha."

He fired one shot, then another, and was rewarded by the sudden disappearance of the troopers. The bucket-heads must have told their comrades about the presence of a sniper in the enemy squad because the fire pinning Dagon Squad down abruptly died out. Leaping to his feet, Corporal Fingh ran forwards, gesturing to his squad as he did so.

"Dagons, charge!"

Carver was somewhat hesitant, well aware of the possibility of a trap, but had no choice, with the rest of the squad sprinting for the side building and screaming at the top of his lungs. Gritting his teeth, he reholstered his E-11 and drew his sidearm.

"For the Republic!"

There was a quiet drone, which quickly intensified into a deafening screech. Suddenly, Ulrand, who had been running besides Carver up to this point, screamed and dropped to the ground. Something very hard hit Carver in the back, knocking him off his feet. From the corner of his eye, he saw a quartet of speeder bikes stream down the street, firing as they went.

One unfortunate trooper was impaled on the foremost bike's steering vane and was dragged along screaming until he finally fell, almost ripped in two. Corporal Fingh desperately tried to rally the squad, but between the suddenness of their reversal of fortune and the loss of almost half their number, Dagon Squad was in no position to mount a counter attack. The bikes screamed several meters past the New Republic squad before banking sharply and making a second run. This time, the Dagons were better prepared, and a hail of blaster fire greeted the quartet of Imperials.

Shots impacted on the bikes' armour plating but the reinforcements ignored the damage and fired their blaster cannons into the squad. Several more Republic troopers fell, their bodies blazing, including Corporal Dern Fingh. In a stunning turn of events, the Imperials had decimated the Republic backup. The two sides were now almost evenly matched, and the Com tower's fate was uncertain once more.

***
Grimly, Sergeant Tank watched as the Dagons were mercilessly mowed down. The screams of the Academy-fresh troopers echoed up to the floor the Chimeras were clustered on. Not taking his eyes from the massacre occurring in the street, Tank made a gesture. Olias turned, his eyes glinting red in the near-darkness.

"Olias, grab the launcher."

"Yes, sir."

The human-Chiss hybrid picked up a Pythia-class rocket launcher from the pile of weapons spread out across the room's floor, and then retrieved a pair of rockets. On the battleground below, the last few Republic survivors had retreated into an ally. The four speeders, combined with the remaining Banshees were emptying their weapons into the darkness. In just a few more minutes, Dagon Squad would be dead. Then the Imperials would turn their attention to the Chimeras.

Olias shoved one round, then another into his heavy weapon, then rammed them home. The shriek of metal on metal sounded like a human scream.

"Four cooked bucketheads, coming up."

Olias activated the launcher's sight, adjusting for the distance to ensure a direct hit, then fired both rounds in the chamber. Two streaks of blue flame burst from the weapon's barrel and flew towards the quartet of speeders. They impacted into the pavement, and the area vanished in a cloud of thick, billowing smoke. Slowly, the black smog cleared, revealing a pile of twisted metal, all that remained of the Imperial vehicle support. Three of their drivers, however, were still alive, and the return fire forced both Tank and Olias to duck as slugthrower rounds and energy beams slammed into the building. The Imperial sniper was evidently still alive.

"Damn it." Tank muttered as an armour piercing round whistled overhead.

***

Fiaid Dollan had never believed in deities, but he felt tempted to offer a prayer of thanks anyway as he watched the Imps that had pinned the Dagons down go up in a cloud of flame and acrid smoke. A cracked and ash covered plastoid helmet bounced once, then rolled to a stop at Dollan's feet, its left lens and part of the rebreather missing. His fellow troopers cheered, and Lance Corporal 
Reeech, a Ylesian who'd signed up with the Republic in the aftermath of the Bacta war, chittered out to his squad-mates. A moment later, the insectoid's translator shouted out a translation.

"Wipe out the survivors!"

As one, the Dagons charged.

OOC:

As no one has posted, I've expanded the battle...and again.

The world vanished in a flash of pure white and a wave of heat. Several of the Chimera troopers shouted in shock, and randomly fired shots whistled down the hallway. Solvan Dekkar blinked repeatedly, black spots flickering across his field of view as he tried to shake off the flash-bang's after effects. Suddenly, his eyes began to water heavily, then started to sting. The Private rubbed them fiercely, desperate to restore his vision, but the pain only worsened. The two other troopers with him were in little better shape, with one thrashing about on the floor, clawing madly at his own face. Slowly, Dekkar regained his vision, only to see black outlines approaching, their armoured boots clanking on the floor.

Helmeted figures emerged from the dissapating cloud of noxious gas, rifles in hand. They immedietely opened fire, catching two of the Chimeras. One was thrown back into a wall, his face and chest reduced to a blackened ruin, while the other fell heavily clutching his stomach with both hands. Dekkar crouched as low as he could to the ground, ignoring the prickling from the remaining gas. The stormtroopers continued to fire, but hit nothing but the walls. Dekkar gave a moment of thanks for the remaining gas, which partially blocked the Imperials' sight and made it easier for him to hide in the otherwise bare corridor.

Fumbling blindly for something he could use as a weapon, the squad medic touched something long and circular. It was the fallen trooper's DC-15 carbine, a Clone Wars era weapon with enough punch to melt through even the tough stormtrooper armour. Clutching the carbine with both hands, Dekkar pumped fire into the shimmering figures he saw meters away. The shots went first on then through the nearest stormtrooper's armour, and the man fell with half of his chest away. The other Imperial ignored his fallen comrade and turned towards the Republic medic.

Gritting his teeth, Solvan aimed the deece at the gap between the GeNode's helmet and chest-plate, only to hear a hiss and see a warning light flash on the weapon. The power cell had been depleted, and Dekkar was otherwise unarmed. Slowly, Solvan let the useless blaster drop from his hand and stared into the expressionless helmet of his executioner.

The clone's finger began to tighten on the trigger, then spasmed as a trio of slugthrower rounds tore through his neck and sent a spurt of blood out of the gaping wound. The E-11 fired a shot into the ceiling, then fell from its former owner's grasp. Solvan blinked, then turned to see the wounded Chimera, Private First Class Brena Howles clutching her stomach with one blood-smeared hand and a slughthrower rifle in the other. As Dekkar watched, she nodded and let the weapon slip from her hand. Her armour was ruined, and he could see blackened tissue and organs under the trooper's hand. When she spoke, blood came out with the words.

"Guess you owe me one, eh?"

With that, Brena's eyes closed and she fell silent. Hastening over, Solvan quickly began standard procedures, but the level of damage was beyond his capability to help with. As he removed his medical kit from a belt pouch, he used his other hand to key his com.

"This is Private First Class Solvan Dekar; our fire team was ambushed and we have a critically wounded trooper here. Suggest calling for evac to med unit."

OOC:

Feel free to kill said wounded trooper off if it interferes with the feel. I know this isn't one of my best, but I'm out of ideas. 2 Imps dead, 1 NR trooper dead and 1 near-fatally/fatally wounded. The reason it might not be fatal is that she's not completely human.

Some things never changed, Leui Mathial mused silently as she worked. Evidently, among those things was Imperial arrogance. After the Imperial assault had first stalled then turned into a bloodbath, their Sergeant had retreated, leaving his men to the tender mercies of the New Republic. Mathial's face was distorted into a scowl as she considered the cowardice and disloyalty such an action implied, then slowly faded back to an expression of intense concentration.

Soon after the Sergeant had retreated, Tank had ordered the surviving Chimeras to return to the office that had served as an impromptu command post. They'd listened as the veteran explained their situtation; that the enemy would inevitably be bringing more reinforcements and that the Major couldn't spare any more men for them. This would be a last stand, and they knew it.

By this time, the surviving Dagons had arrived upstairs. The squad medic, Dekkar, was in a nearby side-room, doing his best to stabilize Howles. Tank had called for a medical team, but the reply had been ambiguous at best. Privately, Leui considered the fact that the Private  had survived the shots, let alone remained conscious somewhat of a medical miracle. The blood loss alone should have finished her off, but she was still breathing, if barely. How much longer that would be the case was uncertain.

Following the directions of their Squad Leader, the Chimeras and Dagons had set up combat barricades jury-rigged from various equipment and armed themselves with various short-range and melee weapons. Leui had chosen a blast cannon, while several of the the others had retrieved power cells and carbines from the fallen Banshees scattered inside the complex. Nearly simultaneously, Olias had sliced into the center's computer network and discovered the existence of a powered down defense grid. However, it was useless until the generators were powered back up, and those were currently under Imperial control. Once again, impasse.

The Dagons were currently holding position in the main lobby. Both were manning with Z-9 rotary cannons, short-range but powerful weapons designed to tear through vehicles and body armour with equal ease. The first Imperials to arrive through the durasteel blast doors would be met with a series of high velocity, energy-based surprises. Tank and Olias were watching for signs of Imperial activity near the top, and had the squad's last launcher in case the Imps tried using vehicles again.

There was a beep, and voices sounded from the com link. The Imperials, despite their losses, were confident enough to give commands over open channels. It was a flaw Leui intended to exploit to the fullest.

"Reinforcements...arrive... armored... minutes."

Leui had heard enough. Quickly, she reported her findings to the Sarge. Grimly, he nodded.

"Just as I thought. Take up a position just inside the the emergency stairwell. We'll join you as soon as we've taken out their  vehicular support."

"Sir!"

The Private saluted, then ran off. Tank turned to his second in command.

"How do we stand, Olias?"

"We've got troopers in the lobby, the emergency stairwell, and there are detpacks set up near mission-critical com equipment. We'll take a lot of the bastards out with us, sir."

"Right."

Tank heard the quiet hum of repulsorlifts, all too familiar to him from the day-long defense his squad had put up on this urban hellhole. He keyed his com, addressing all of the troops.

"Give 'em hell, troopers. For the Republic!"

The answering cheer was tired but loud. It had been a long day for all concerned, but every man and woman inside the building knew it would be over soon. One way or another.

The armoured personnel carrier came into view, and came to an abrupt stop. Whoever was driving the vehicle obviously knew they had nothing to fear from the meager Republic garrison above them. Olias fired a homing rocket, then dropped the launcher to the ground. It clattered loudly, and Tank looked at him.

"It didn't do a thing."

Sure enough, the only sign that the vehicle had been hit was a blackened patch in its thick armour. Tank glanced back at the bench. They were out of the shaped charges, and they had nothing else to throw at the troop transport.

Imperials emerged from the vehicle, scurrying this way and that. From Tank's height, they looked like ants on a durasteel pavement, moving as one for some unseen purpose. As though on a prearranged signal, the Imperials took up positions behind the craft as it accelerated towards the com facility.

The heavy blast doors buckled, then fell aside with a clatter as the troop transport moved aside. Nearly simultaneously, the power came on, and the facility began to hum with life. Olias quickly glanced at his datapad, then crackled his hands together.

"Autoturret grid active," he said with barely suppressed glee. "Imperial FOF tags set to hostile."

The first white armoured Vast Imperials to charge into the building were shredded by a combination of chain-gun and turret fire. Undeterred, their squad mates continued their attack, ignoring the casualties and growing pile of corpses. In less than thirty seconds, six of their number had been blown apart. But the autoturrets were dead. Z-9 fire lanced through the elegant, Coruscanti-style lobby as the Republic troopers fought to keep the Imperial at bay.

No matter who won, victory would not be easy.

The only sounds Rell could hear as he ran through the back alleys of the city was the dull thud of his boots hitting the pavement and his sharp, staccato breathing in his helmet. He had never liked being alone and now on the battlefield his fears were amplified.

The comm tower loomed ahead now and Rell felt his breathing become even faster. He noticed several bodies lying in the street and the heavy blast door to the tower had been completely crushed, leaving a gaping maw in the side of the building. Rell slowed his pace and drew his rifle, now cautious in enemy territory.

He moved decisively, never wanting to give the enemy a chance to surprise him. However, the area was completely deserted and Rell knew that the squad must have been through here.

They probably need help getting through the defenses upstairs. he thought, his pulse shooting up due to the adrenaline now flowing freely through his system.

He climbed a stairwell, two at a time, and eventually came to a floor where the body of an Imperial lay dead, his body riddled with blaster bolts,  while up ahead he noticed a disappearing foot belonging to a Banshee squad member. He ran to catch up and as he rounded the corner, a blaster bolt flew inches from his visor. Instinctively, he threw himself to floor as more blaster bolts cut through the air above him like angry wasps.

Ahead of him, Banshee members hid behind the cover of several crates, filled with communication and technical equipment left by a maintenance crew. At the end of the hallway, he noticed several more crates which the Republic troopers were hiding behind, with several others firing from doorways along the hall.

Rell crawled forward on his belly behind the cover of a crate which had already been severely damaged by the constant barrage of Republic troops. Gripping his rifle tightly, he leaned out and fired a couple rounds into the crates hiding the Republic. He heard a grunt, something barely audible above the sound of the now constant gunfire in the corridor and felt a slight tingle inside. Battle had always sat well with him, sometimes leaving him wanting more.

Private Bron Pace had never expected something like this. As a new recruit fresh from the academy he had only been expecting some routine checks on some Vast Empire worlds, but an all out battlefield war was something that he could barely cope with. Pace ran down a back alley away from part of the battle, he then reached a small building with a few blood spatters on the front steps. Pace noticed that there was no lifeforms inside form his heat sensors, and he then heard the sound of fighting coming near. He busted into the house, his M-590 Assault Rifle slung on his back and his Power 5 Heavy Blaster Pistol in hand and raised at the wall that was in front of him. Turning around at the sound of laser fire getting closer, Pace gently turned up against a wall. He cocked his head towards a large piece of furniture, Pace quickly picked it up and moved it to defend his area, making it look as if it was still an abandoned building.

A single Stormtrooper flashed across the doorway in a second, he was hauling ass from the sound of laser fire. Pace couldn't hear him anymore, and nothing but laserfire followed, no death scream. Pace raised his Power 5 at the door, he then ducked down quick enough as the New Republic troopers, two of them according to Pace's heat sensors walk through by the door. One of them began to speak. "Trooper, into this building." One of the troopers said, Pace let out a smile, staring at his Blaster Pistol as the thud of footsteps was heard. Pace was crouching behind the couch and the couch was pressed up against a wall, he was nearly invisible. Pace was still staring through his heat sensors, and as they came closer to Pace one of the troopers raised a hand. As if to motion 'stop'. Pace  kept on looking through the Heat Sensors, and they began to leave the bulding. Pace then grasped his pistol once more, closing his eyes for a second to stop and think. He knew what had to be done. He got out of his crouch raising his M-590.

"In the name of the Vast Empire," Pace watched the two troopers stop dead in their tracks. "You are under arrest." Pace saw the next moments flash through his mind, one of the troopers turned quickly towards Pace. "Damn." Pace cursed as he fired at the trooper that had turned, the trooper recoiled at the blaster bolt that had struck him in a non-vital organ, his arm showed a huge burn. The other trooper still surprised turned around and dodged a blast Pace aimed for him, the trooper that had just dodged the shot daringly dove for Pace. Making it the whole four feet that separated him Pace merely watched as the trooper grabbed onto Pace's weapon and hit it to the ground with a loud 'thud'. The smile disappeared off his face as the trooper revealed a DH-17 Blaster Pistol, Pace did the same revealing his Power 5 from his holster. "Stop-AH!" Pace dodged a blast and dove behind the couch his Power 5 hitting the ground and sliding a foot away from Pace, getting back up he lifted the couch up with him and slammed it into the troopers chest, the trooper doubled back as the couch hit him, trying not to fall with the force of the couch. He was successful and his pistol seemed to have fallen as well. He went straight for his pistol.

The sound of the trooper grunting as he dove for his pistol both amused and frightened Pace at the same time. Pace dove at the trooper, his elbow out. He landed on the trooper, his elbow nailing the troopers spine. Pace turned the trooper around, whose hand was right next to his pistol and punched him in the face, a loud 'crack' was heard as Pace broke the troopers nose. The trooper responded by headbutting Pace, throwing Pace off of the trooper and throwing Pace's helmet off of him as well. Pace closed his eyes to blink for a split second, only to re-open them to the trooper, holding his pistol at Pace. "Now then, goodbye." The trooper pulled the trigger, the sound of a 'woosh' was heard and Pace looked on the ground as the trooper found out his gas canister had fallen out. Turning his head to the left, Pace realized his Power 5 was right there. Pace grabbed the Power 5 as the trooper jumped on Pace, Pace felt winded as the wind was knocked out of him. The trooper grabbed Pace's wrist as Pace was turning the Power 5 toward the trooper, Pace was prevailing in strength as the pistol eventually reached the trooper's head.

"Now then, its goodbye." Pace fired once, the trooper's head splattered over Pace's Stormtrooper outfit and Pace's face. Pace looked at the door to realize the wounded trooper was no were to be seen. Pace cursed as he lifted the now dead trooper off of Pace's body with a sigh, he turned back to the corpse and let off another shot at the body. Turning it around and then stared in the corpse's eyes, "Hes dead alright." Pace then grabbed his M-590 and looked around the house, there was a small crack in the ceiling above him. Pace took a step towards the area below the crack, and he was now right under it. Reaching up he hoisted himself into another room, it was completely empty as well.

Rell breathed a sigh of relief as the rest of Banshee squad lowered their rifles. He had thought they had heard him come up on them, but appearently they had not. He felt a little hurt at Kartov's remark. He still wasnt used to using the comlinks.

"So whats the plan? Where are all fot the NR troopers?" Rell looked around alittle expectantly. He wasnt sure but it seemed like som of them were trying to ignore him.

With an audible sigh, Kartov answered," Just stay behind us." With that he turned and waved a hand, indicating the squad to move out. Swallowing, Rell followed suit, continued into the next room. There was alot of mechanical equipment lying around, but nothing else in the room.

"They must be on the next floor up. Get ready this is it." Kartov looke around the room at each of his men, nodding his respect. "Remember dont walk right in there, as they still have two turrets. When i open the door, just stand back and let them shoot."

They slowly crept up the stairs. Their, at the top of the stairs, was a door. It wasnt much to look at, just an average door, but Rell knew better. Behind this door, lay the last of the rebels. How this next battle would play out would determine the outcome of this whole mission.

"Hold on." Kartov unclipped a smoke grenade and pulled the pin. There was a little flash followed by a small pop! Lazily, he let it drop to the floor, filling the narrow hallway with smoke. "This way they wont see, but the autoturrets will still shoot. Wait for them to overheat. Thought should give us a minute to file in and find some cover. Switch to heat vision. Good luck men."

Rell could just make out the nods of understandment before the smoke was too thick to see in front of him. He heard the slightest click as he turned on his heat vision, and suddenly his world was filled with the grey haze of the smoke, contrasted by the glowing red bodies that were pealed against the wall.

From somewhere in this thick cloud, Rell could hear Kartov, "On three...one...two...three..."

Rell heared the click of the doorknob...but it didnt open.

Kartov jiggled the handle, but to no use. It was looked. "Blast it! They must have sealed the door. And that was the last smoke grenade, too." Kartov gave a sigh of frustration, reflecting what Rell was thinking. He knew that all chance of a suprise entrance was blown. They would have to break it down fast if they were to make their move under cover of the smoke.

Kartov, motioning for one of the reinforcement troopers, who came up and planted a small charge on the handle. With a flash and a small explosion, all hell broke loose.

OOC:

Feel free to edit it if there are any story conflicts

Pace braced back, this was nothing he had thought would happen. His head was bare, as his helmet had been knocked off in an earlier engagement. He stood on the side of the door, his M-590 Assault Rifle aimed towards the door. He was on one knee as the metal door hit the ground with a loud 'clang' and 'bang'. A gaping hole was left for the New Republic troopers to move in, it seemed they didn't want to. Their rifles and turrets began to make scrap metal out of the Squad. One trooper was nailed instantly, he fell of the stairs and hit the ground, dead.

Kartov began to shout. "Pace, cover their entry point! One of you bloated bastards check on our downed trooper!" Kartov said, moving his hand up and down as Pace released an entire canister of blaster gas. Suddenly a faint thud of a grenade sounded, and it then exploded. Pace began to thing: "Bah, screw it." Pace dropped his assault rifle and drew his dual Power 5 Blaster Pistols. He turned to the other members of the squad, "I'll see yall in hell." Pace thought as he jumped up. One enemy trooper flashed over the hole, Pace let loose the fiery hell that he was about to be in. The trooper fell over the hole, shot at least ten times. Pace then crouched up against the wall, grabbing a thermal detonator off of his belt. He hooked that up against his chest.

He then heard orders being shouted at him, but he didn't give a crap. He then took out two bands of flat C-98 Explosives. He was going to die, but he wasn't going to die alone. He jumped through the gaping hole in the hall. Revealing the New Republic Squad formation, he raised his Power 5s towards one of the enemy troopers manning a turret. The enemy troopers helmet fell off to reveal him crosseyed and blood gushing out of his mouth. The split second he had looked at his victim was one of negative emotions. Laser fire was being blasted towards him, he gently took a dive towards two enemy turrets.

"Gah!" Pace screamed as a knife was jabbed down his spine. He heard some troopers talking, he then raised his pistol towards his head. He then pulled the trigger, the barrel let out one blast and Pace rolled over, his eyes bloodshot. He was dead. The moments earlier his life flashed before his eyes. He saw his mom oh Coruscant, her long black hair rolling flowing with the wind on Coruscant's metropolis. His tall dad with two shots in his eyes, his brothers, his sisters. And then, blank. Shots riddled off him, and suddenly one trooper screamed and hauled ass over a barricade. One foolish trooper shot at Pace's chest. An explosion sounded, killing the trooper, and wounding many others. Pace's carcass was now a burning remnant of what the young man had been, a respectable, loving, and intelligent trooper.

"Pace! PACE!" Kartov screamed, shooting blaster bolts in Pace's bodies direction. Nothing happened, no bodies fell, no screams sounded. A second later blaster bolts came straight towards the squad, and the squad fired back. Screaming came from both sides, as a small fire began to spread, the fire that had started from Pace's explosives. "Rell, throw some more Co2 in there. Troopers cover our flank."

“This is going straight to hell.” Tank panted.

“Yeah, it is.”

“We’re getting out of here, they can have their little castle, it’s falling apart anyway, we get out, get some reinforcements, keep them closed off from resupply, we should be able to take this battle back.”

Olias matched Tanks grin. Neither wanted to give up their battle field, and Tank was having fun. Having fun for the first time since the civil war had been at its height. An enemy he could enjoy crushing. He stretched, winced slightly with the pain of his wounds, then ran back, away from the Imperials, his stamina was still almost unscathed, but Olias was tiring. The pure excitement kept Tank going.

They rounded a corner and Tank smiled. The APC was still there, he jogged around it, the bay was still open, he strode inside, there was a driver still in it, but Tank didn’t give him time to say anything, he just grabbed him by the helmet and twisted until the mans neck broke.

Tank found his way behind the wheel and fired up the engines. He backed it out while Olias kept an eye out on the small turret.  Tank drove through walls surrounding the tower and parked it in an alley that wouldn’t be observable from what remained of the tower.

“Keep an eye out.”

“Aye”

Tank turned to the communications equipment, this was what he’d wanted the APC for. He fired it up and switched it to a new republic frequency.

“Queen takes rook, White is out of pawns.  Triangulate the victory march.”

Short code, short and to the point, Tank preferred it that way.  But reinforcements should be on their way, there were enough people that out ranked him that feared his wrath, they’d give him something. As long as they had guns and brains at all they’d be good enough. Tank sat back, so did Olias, Olias lit up a cigarette.

“Think we can do it?”

“You think I care?”

“Wasn’t this operation supposed to be a little more toned down?”

“That was before I met the enemy, this enemy deserves a battlefield.”

Olias laughed, “Fine then boss, let’s burn this world.”