The Blackjacks trooped back out of the warehouse district, leaving the fire and protection teams to clean up the mess they’d left. Gates was unmoved by the swathe of violence they’d left behind, the front of the warehouse largely blown apart by high-power laser fire, rotary cannon rounds and explosives, all of the mess on fire and broken.

“Find what you were looking for?” asked the old operative’s voice over the comlink. The man’s eye patch and grey hair made him easy to pick out amongst a small crowd of onlookers who had gathered to look at the smoke and comings and goings of the police and fire departments.

“Your boss didn’t tell you?” asked Gates. “We found something. We’re going to have the tech boys look at it, but the other piece of info we might have found got trashed. Took a hit from a grenade or .50, I’d guess.”

“Your Captain was right, you boys don’t mess around...”

“That’s because messing around gets you killed,” Gates responded. “We’ll be heading back to the base.”

“Very well,” the old operative said, and his comlink cut off. When Gates looked at the gathering of concerned citizens again, the old man was gone, disappeared back into the city. The Blackjacks kept moving, backtracking their way across the city into the base. Their ‘handler’ was waiting for them, back in uniform and steamed.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” asked the man, leaner and shorter than Gates normally was, never mind when he had his armor on. The intel man wasn’t yelling, but his voice carried enough venom to be caustic.

“You gave us an objective,” Gates said. “And we completed it.”

“You blew up half a god-damn warehouse and now there’s local law sticking their noses in my investigation!” the man jammed a finger into Gates’ torso armor, like a needle.

“You gave us an objective,” Gates repeated calmly. “And we completed it.”

To emphasize his words, he handed the salvaged data core to the man. Another man in intel clothes emerged from a building a few seconds after their handler accepted the core. He had a thin goatee and was wearing sun glasses and used a cane.

“Williams, draw the information from this device and report back to me ASAP, please,” the intelligence officer asked, a good deal of politeness in his voice as opposed to the spitting rage he’d been venting on the heavily armored Stormtroopers.

“T’will be done, Senior Operator,” the man said, then turned almost precisely 180 degrees and walked back to the building he’d emerged from.

The Operator pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was tired of yelling at the stoic troopers. “Just...go report to your officer, will you?”

Gates and the rest of Blackjack saluted with careful enough formality, and at his limp-wrist return, they moved past him and sauntered over to a small barracks where Ron and his Adjutant had set up shop. Gates and Corvin entered, the latter at the former’s shoulder

“Captain? Blackjack reporting!” Gates said upon entering. The Adjutant was more in his element than the Captain, shuffling papers and killing time with busy work. Gates knew Ron had been a dog-trooper at one time, and the wait was likely a lot worse on him, with little control on the outcome.

“Blackjack? Good. Report,” the PC replied.

“We met up with the intelligence officer in command of the relations with the informant. At his order, we investigated the last known location of the informant. We recovered a clue in the format of a data core, but we met with resistance in the form of four armed men who almost certainly had Stormtrooper training at some point in the past. That wasn’t the problem - the merc with the rotary cannon and the hellish armor was. Only after blowing up half the building were we able to put that tough bastard down. I’d recommend that Eclipse be warned about both of these things next time they come into contact with you, sir.”

“Very good, Sergeant Major,” Ron said in return to the report. “Got something else for you. Tadath Command shipped a couple more of the reserves up to the front to add to your squad. Senior Sergeant Vikas and Lance Corporal Quilla will be joining you.”

The two troopers emerged from a different room of the barracks building, saluted to Gates. He returned the motion. “Any further orders, or shall we continue to act with the Intelligence community?”

“Orders hold, for now. I’ll give you a call if there’s any update,” Ron said, which would effectively dismiss Gates and Corvin and re-deploy them out.

Gates nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the building. The Blackjacks, both brand new and the not-so-new formed around him. “Re-draw ammo and explosives if you need ‘em. Corvin, make sure they stay in line. I’ll meet with the Operator.”

Corvin nodded, and then began giving orders to the troopers in relation to the direction of the armory.

Gates moved back down the base’s main street into the tech building. Computers hummed inside and their Operator was talking animatedly with the man who’d accepted the data core. “Good news, Gates.”

“Pray tell,” Gates said, leaving off the unknown honorific.

“We think we’ve found the informant, again. The last entry was only 48 hours ago, and suggests that the informant is in the business sector.”

“Shall we pursue?”

“Yes. Wait for me to draw armor. I’m helping you take this guy in and I’ll help make sure no more crazy shit happens.”

“Very well. But if you march with us, don’t get in our way, or your bound to get dead. Sir.”

“Reasonable.”

OOC:

We’re moving to the business sector, with the intelligence officer. He’s suspected to be in a large apartment building, and we’ll be moving in. PM me if there’s any questions.

Njall quickly looked over the newcomers to the squad.  There were two of them; Private First Class Rokh “Demented”, a Noghri, and Private Second Class Taranis “Taran” Crasthian, a human.  Demented seemed pretty comfortable in this kind of environment, he obviously wasn’t some greenhorn just out of basic training.  Although Taran seemed to be newer to this line of work, his body language implied that he was confident enough, without having the overconfidence which tends to get Troopers killed.  Njall had a feeling that both Troopers would work out just fine.

His thoughts were interrupted by Skarr, who ordered the squad to move out, towards the next hideout.  All eight squad members got into position, and began following the intelligence officer through the streets.  As they were walking, Skarr’s comm began beeping, yet again.  He picked it up, answered, and immediately entered into a rapid discussion, or possibly a report, with whoever was calling.  Njall, ever-curious, struggled to hear what was being said, but he only picked up the occasional word, which when strung together made absolutely no sense.

Giving up on trying to find out what the conversation was about, Njall moved a bit forwards, closer to the intelligence officer.  The officer noticed Njall moving closer, and began to speak,

“You see that building there?” He asked, pointing to a twelve-story office building about one block away, “That’s our next target.  From the information that we’ve gathered, it’s not anything too important, but it is a sort of administrative building.  With luck, destroying this place may mean damage to their logistics operations or communications.”

Njall asked, “Do you have any advice for us, on taking this hideout down?”

“In a moment, let’s wait until your SL finishes his call, I want everybody to hear this.”

As he finished that statement, the officer looked over at Skarr and saw that the Squad Leader was placing his comm back where it had been before.

“Any trouble or changes Sergeant?” The officer asked Skarr

“Not really,” Skarr replied, “Our Platoon Leader wanted a report, that was pretty much it.  He did mention however that Blackjack Squad had reported opponents with obvious Stormtrooper training, some with supposedly “Hellish” armour.  They felt that we could use that information.  Unfortunately we ran into some of those guys at the last hideout, so that warning was kind of in vain”

“Alright then,” the officer said.

He motioned for the squad to gather around.  As with the last building, he took out a blueprint and began explaining the plan of destruction to the Troopers

“As I was explaining to this Private over here, our target now is this old office building.  We believe it to be an administrative building, possibly running their logistical or communications lines.  Unfortunately, there aren’t any weak points like in the last building.  However, scans have shown us that there is a large concentration of machinery on the seventh floor.  If they were to be destroyed, then we may be able to punch a hole in the middle of the building, toppling it.  Keep in mind though, there’s no guarantee that this will work, you may need to think on your feet and come up with another plan if it fails.  Either way, good luck with this.  Try and come back alive so we can continue.”

With the officer’s description finished, Skarr motioned to the squad and they set out towards the building.

“Oh, one more thing,” the officer called to them as they were moving, “This building is probably considered more important to them, so expect more guards!”

Skarr nodded and motioned the squad to keep following him, towards their second target .

Another order. Direct. Yet, something seemed off centered to the female. Regardless of intelligence, she didn't trust him. He could be a double spy who gave them false information and was leading them on a wild goose chase. Stop it! She thought to herself. Clicking her tongue as her silvery gaze swept up and down the street. If you could call it one. Several times  a unpleasant smell  cross her nose.  Wrinkling her nose she straightened her back to send a welcomable crack across her shoulders. Shifting her SCOPE to the right shoulder, Saphira looked over the rest of her squad. 

Noticeably quiet of talking, all she could hear were a few mutters and curses. As well as the soft tapings of armor and boots. Up ahead she could see Gates shift ever so slightly as he spoke to their guide.  Shaking her head, Saph turned to regard herself as her free hand drew down to her  precious vibroblade. It somehow always gave her comfort. Days when she was once a rookie and placed in Eclipse. That was then. This is now. Thinking about all the changes that had happened, it seemed a mellenia  that she use to be in that squad.

"Hope they will survive without killing one another."


She muttered. A  chuckle came from her left and she fought the urge to elbow slam that person to the ground.  Knowing quit well it would only slow their progress. Another mental curse as she wished they would hurry up and get there. Her eyes looked to the side as she noticed a  run downed building. Rubble as it were. Only parts of the skeletal structure remained. It looked like it was once a proud  solid fixture. Gone now as she noticed the crisped burnt remains that scattered the bottom. More obvious were the darkened beams that lay ed out separately towards another building.

Pitty Saph thought. Just more tot he puzzle as she noticed it was the only one in the area that she could see that was ruined. Most likely a bounty hunter's work.Or that of a local Gang. Either way, it wasn't their problem.  Up ahead she could see that they were just about to their destination.

Hmm Balac thought. He studied Skarr, looking for any sign of inner turmoil the man might be feeling. At all appearances, Skarr wanted nothing more than to destroy every last one of these traitors to the Vast Empire. Regardless, he did have a connection to the man ordering the traitors around, and connections lead to conflicts of interest... conflicts of interest, lead to problems, problems Eclipse might not be able to afford. Balac hoped that wouldn't be the case.

"Sir," Balac said, "Regardless of the fact that this may have been our most likely next choice, what are the chances it just happens to have excessive enemy activity and above all, overseen by a dead man? Something feels wrong to me. It seems as if they have complete confidence that we will be attacking here."

"You're right, we'll need to be exceptionally careful, especially from what I know about this man, and what he's capable of, but we can't let him escape. He's died once, this time, I want to make sure he stays that way." Skarr replied.

"Taran... mind if I borrow that rifle?" Balac asked.

After a few moments Taran slowly handed the rifle to Balac. Looking over the enemy troops he settled on the dead man. If he's as deadly as he is ugly... Balac thought. Passing over the other troops, an insignia on the armored shoulder of one caught his attention.

"Fierfek!" He whispered fiercely. Again? They were supposed to be finished, long ago! At least they aren't disgracing our Mando armor anymore.

"Balac?" Skarr asked. Balac looked towards Njall, the only member of Eclipse that his finding would mean the most to.

"Balac?" Skarr prompted again.

Staying silent, he handed the rifle back to Taran. The only group of people Balac despised, was now an obstacle on his mission.

Balac opened a private channel to Njall, "Kyr'tsad."

Njall turned, holding his gaze on Balac, then turned away.

After a few moments of silence, Taran spoke, "Skarr, they've gone inside, a few are guarding outside."

"Ok, watch each other's backs, let's go." Skarr ordered.

OOC:

It's not the greatest post, I know. Feel free to have me forget about my personal safety and savagely attack any Blood Saint member that has the insignia on their shoulder plate, just try not to hurt me too badly.

When Malik was asked which Squad he wanted to join after Basic, Blackjack was the obvious choice. Their reputation for being the best of the best was hard won and as far as Malik could tell, Blackjack had earned it. Racking up kills on planets all over the outer rim and persuading planets to champion the Vast Empire's cause. His first assignment was a 'Peace-keeping Operation' was a joint operation with another reputable Stormtrooper squad called Eclipse, and the local Defense Force, to put down a Terrorist Cell, on a dirtball of a planet called Bakura.

Since Planet-fall, Malik had worn a grin plain on his face. He was working under a couple of the most inspiring leaders he'd come across since induction into the ranks of the Vast Empire. His squad leader, a veteran stormtrooper, was Sergeant Major Garryll had just gotten Malik through his first taste of actual combat. Engaging and eliminating a group of local gang members, suspected traitors of the Vast Empire, who had ambushed Blackjack while they were securing a warehouse, which lead to the destruction of the building. So now they were marching through the smoke and grit of the city's Residential Quarter. Following an incompetent Chief Inspector from Bakura's Internal Security Department.

Upon arriving at the target destination, an apartment building which an informer is known to squat, Sergeant Major Garryll ordered the Squad to breakup into Fire Teams to secure the back of the building for Breach. Following Sergeant Corvin and a handful of other Blackjacks down a gangway, a dank hallway running through a corner of the building's side, Corvin signaled Malik to take point. Advancing down the corridor, Malik's helmet sensors could pick up the faint chatter of Idle chatter between at least two men around the next corner. Signaling for Blackjack to press against the wall, Malik stopped and crouched before the wall's end. Pulling out his Combat knife and angling it around the corner so he could clearly see what lay beyond, Malik keyed his Mic:

"Contact. Three men. Light Armor and weapons." Malik relaid to the rest of Blackjack. "Permission to Engage, Sir?" Malik asked Blackjack's SL.

"Hold 10 Seconds, then clear to engage." Sergeant Major Garryll replied.

Using the Fire Team's designated channel, Corvin added "Alright men, I want this quick and quiet."

Clicking acknowledgment, Malik sheathed his Combat Knife and unslung his standard E-11, silently counting down from ten. When he reached 7, Malik pulled a Stun Grenade off of his belt and held his arm out, the fingers on his free hand out stretched and counting down from Five. Four......Three.....Two....One....wrapping his index finger around the Grenade's Pin, and giving a sharp wrench, the Pin came free and Malik lobbed it around the wall's corner. The sound of panicked yells was all Malik heard before the Grenade detonated, producing a blinding light and a percussion that could rupture unprotected eardrums if given close enough proximity.

Corvin swore as the noise washed over his ears. His helmet buzzed as its audio receptors dialed down to prevent hearing damage.

"I said quiet!" he snapped, then sprang forwards, rifle in hand.

There were three mercenaries sprawled in the hallway, one lying against the wall with his head twisted back at an impossible angle. The other two twitched feebly as Corvin approached. Corvin squeezed his weapon's trigger twice, and they were still. The wall smoldered where the shots had penetrated it.

"Frak." Corvin spat. "Sneaking around's more Wraith's job, anyway."

The grenade's detonation had obviously been noticed. The thump of armoured boots sounded through the walls, followed moments later by the muffled pounding of E-45s.

"Clear," he called. "Fire team, advance."

The Blackjack troopers quickly moved forwards, spreading out with practiced ease. Gris and his men just stood there, weapons raised.

"Are you coming?" Ron said, voice made harsher by his helmet grille, and Gris started. Looking away, the Inspector gestured for his bodyguard to follow.

The group picked its way down the corridors of the complex's second story. There was a pop over the com, and Garryll's voice was suddenly buzzing in his ear. There was the familiar crackling of nearby blasterfire as the SL spoke.

"Meeting heavy resistance from the mercs. They're harder than I thought they'd be." The SL paused, and the background crackling intensified for a moment before he continued. "Got to be at least a couple of squads holed up in here, sir."

"Understood," Ron replied. "Any sign of the objective?"

"No sign of him. Just a lot of kriffing mercs."

"Keep looking, and try to take one alive."

"Sir."

The channel closed with a pop. Ron gestured with one hand.

"Carry on, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir." Corvin nodded, raising his E-45 to shoulder height. Nearby, Gris was edging forwards along one wall, earning himself an unfriendly look from Malik.

There were hisses as doorseals opened ahead. Mercenaries poured out, and the air filled with blaster bolts.

"Contact!" a Blackjack yelled.

Corvin aimed and fired. His shot went wide, but Malik's didn't. A man with a short beard and a visor fell as Corvin's bolt exploded against the wall, his chest reduced to ash by the trooper's shot. All around him, Corvin heard the roar of E-45s and the higher pitched whine of the bodyguards' E-11s.

"Kill them all!" he yelled. "Blood and iron!"

Only a few Blackjacks echoed the call, but it didn't matter. This was what they did best.

Mercs fell in droves, cut down by the high energy bolts. There were a few grunts and bitten off curses as Blackjacks were winged by stray fire, but the mercenaries were definitely getting the worst of it.

Whatever they'd been doing here, they hadn't been expecting Imperial stormtroopers, and the Blackjacks took full advantage of their surprise. Before long, there were ten raggedly dressed corpses in the hallway.

Corvin fired two bolts in rapid succession, and a fleeing mercenary fell mid-stride. His heart pounded as he came off the combat induced adrenaline rush.

"Status?" he finally asked, repressing the urge to wince as his bodyglove brushed against a bacta dressing.

The Blackjacks sounded off, one by one.  Nearby, Gris was frowning as he looked down at the corpses. A long-barreled pistol had appeared in his hand as soon as the shooting had started. Whatever else he might be, the Inspector was a good shot.

Corvin looked to Ron for orders. The Captain was kneeling by one of the bodies and rummaging through it's belt pouches. As Corvin watched, he pulled a datapad free, nodding to himself as he did so, then glanced up.

"Keep moving, Sergeant." Ron said briskly.

The squad cleared the floor, room by room. There were signs of the mercenary presence everywhere: dropped power cells, half-eaten ration bars, and even a half-cleaned rifle dropped as its owner fled.

"Don't know where the scum think they're going." Corvin commented. "They've got nowhere to run to."

Behind them, Gris coughed again.

"Actually, there's an sanitation tunnel access point in the basement. They could reach anywhere in the city from there."

The Inspector blinked, suddenly aware of the fact that most of the stormtroopers were staring at him.

"At least, that's what my files indicate."

"And pray tell," Ron said with deceptive calm. "Why didn't you tell us this earlier?"

Gris shrugged, gaze averted. "I didn't think it was relevant."

Corvin had the presence of mind to close off his helmet coms and speaker before saying exactly what he thought of the Inspector, his parentage, and his mother's unnatural relations with banthas.

"Transfer it. Now." Ron demanded. Gris blinked, staring at the platoon commander for a moment, then shrugged and waved one of his bodyguards forwards. There was a click as Ron uploaded the building map to his HUD, then sent it to the Blackjacks' helmet displays.

"Sergeant Major," the Platoon Commander said into the com channel. "We have the merc's access point for the building. Sewer hatch, ground floor. This could be how they're hitting targets around the city. Make sure they don't escape through it."

There was a pause.

"Understood." Garryll replied. Ron closed the channel, then straightened, looking at the Blackjacks.

"This group was looking for something. Not someone, something. A drop-off's more likely, a datapad maybe. Let's see if it's still here."

OOC:

Scavenger hunt, with some mercs still in the rooms/laying ambushes?

“Striker, on my six. I’ll take the lead,” Gates said to the ‘jacks around him.

Saphira replied and licked her lips. This was where the fun started. Much better then marching around and wondering who could ambush them. Down the stairs they went. Their armor clicking against themselves as boots tapped  gently against the rough stairs.

Suddenly, Gates dropped his weapon as he reacted to a hand that struck out from a door. They didn't have to be told what to do as Saphira rounded the corner to the door and rushed in. Blaster fire rained almost everywhere. The room itself was decently large, but not the best for blasters. Too many and we could easily be hit by friendly fire.

No matter. Saphira moved it and popped a few shots off before diving at the closest merc. He had his barrel raised right at her. Diving to the floor, she went sideways and kicked her foot up to connect with the mans ribs. Breaking the left side, the female  brought it down and kicked at his feet. The Man dropped his weapon and gasped in pain. The loud thud from him dropping left him writhering in pain. Yet her still tried to reach for his weapon.

Standing, the Twi'lek kicked it away and gazed down at him. The seconds ticked away as she  drew her blade.

"You might have lived. Then again, no prisoners are left alive in my hands."

Hissing the words as she quickly  slashed from left to right against the jugular. A quick death. One she wished could have been slower.  they had to keep moving and  leaving anyone alive could be a big mistake. Taking a few steps back, she pivoted on her left foot and started back to the group.  Gates looking directly at her as he gave herself and another trooper orders to guard the room.


"What! You can't be serious. I could make him talk and squirm right now -"

"No. You'd end up killing him and we wouldn't know  if the information would be true." Gates intrrupted.

Snapping her mouth shut she nodded. No point in arguing with the man.  Her companion stood a couple feet away as the others left. Pushing the  captive forward with the butt of the rifle.

"So, what do we really need to do." The trooper asked.

"Babysit the room and hope it stays boring."

"I hope so."

"Not I. When it's too quit, then you need to worry." Saph finished before leaning back against the wall. Not even thinking to ask what the guys name was.

“Orders, sir?” Taran asked.

Norith Skarr grimaced. He honestly did not know how to proceed. Nolac was off the deep end for sure, but he was still brilliant. He had known they were there, that’s what the guard had said. He looked over at the three guards. Two slumped limp and one in a spatter of blood. And at the end of the day, there would be more of those bodies. The elevator, while faster and less tiring, was just what it appeared to be, a tiny box. And then the stairs. Skarr guessed he could split them up, but...

“How are we supposed to find the Blood Saints?” Dirge asked, as if reading Skarr’s mind.

“I guess we could just look under the directory for nasty band of hooligans,” Balac retorted. A laugh was shared among the squad, but Skarr didn’t exactly know how to locate them. A floor-by-floor search would have to do until, they found the Saints. But now, he had the choice to split them up or keep the squad together.

Skarr looked at the elevator again and shook his head. No way. He was keeping the squad together and they would take the stairs. “Stairs, now” His squad saluted and continued onto the stairs with Balac taking point. Skarr followed taking one last look at the lobby. The stairs winded up all the way to the top floor, but they were only going to the second for now.

“I want everyone on alert, there may be guards everywhere around here,” Skarr ordered. He slowly opened the door to the second floor. He was met with almost an entire floor covered with cubicles. The little squares of hatred were lined in rows and patrolling those rows were Blood Saints. And someone else. Not a Blood Saint, it seemed. The armor was...Mandalorian.

“Chakaar,” Balac hissed and he almost burst out of the door, but Njall caught him. The older soldier led Balac to the back of the group. Skarr wondered what that was all about. He looked to the other squad members and seen that they held their weapons at the ready. He smiled underneath his helmet and slowly opened the door, blaster rifle at the ready.

Eclipse filed into the room full of cubicles. Balac was almost through the door when the Mandalorian turned around and spotted the squad. His blaster came up and he fired, quickly. Skarr dove behind one of the pathetic cubicles. It would not be much for cover. The rest of the squad had scattered similarly as more blaster bolts were added to the fray. Return fire was exchanged, but the Blood Saints had reacted quickly. Skarr did not hear an alarm, but he was sure the whole building was on alert now. Why did that damn Mando have to turn around?

The cubicles were being blasted apart and the squad was having trouble finding new cover. He clicked on the comm, “Anyone have a plan to get out of this mess?”

OOC:

FIREFIGHT! I have gifted you all with a fight scene.

Cursing, Balac and Njall dropped back down behind the cubicle as they ejected their spent clips, joining Valthir in a crouch. As blaster bolts riddled the flimsy cubicle that was their only cover, Valthir put his mind to work, trying to work a way out of such a dangerous situation.

More or less cornered, potentially outnumbered depending on how long this draws out, more or less equally matched. How fantastic. And we’re split up. I still cannot see why I even suggested . . . that. Oh fack. Why didn’t I think of that before?

Turning to Njall and Balac, who had just finished reloading, he relayed his plan.

Finishing up, he queried, “Ready?”

Both nodded, and Njall added, “Just for the record. I think you’re crazy. Just thought you should know.”

“Noted. Now go.”

Turning the opposite way, he counted to three and lunged forward, rolling behind another cubicle. Waiting another three seconds, he was satisfied with the lack of blaster bolts hitting his rather disappointing cover. As he had moved towards the cubicle, Njall and Balac had both went the opposite way, firing at the Blood Saints. This, coupled with the other members of Eclipse, had drawn the attention from Valthir, allowing him to move unnoticed from cubicle to cubicle.

Quickly, he made his way towards a soldier in Blood Saint armor, who was standing apart from the cluster of the other Blood Saints. Valthir appraised his armor silently, trying to gauge how tough it was. Mentally shrugging, he moved on towards the soldier, making sure to keep as low as possible. Once he had gotten as close as he could without being seen, Valthir paused, making sure he was prepared for what he was about to do. In all actuality, he could very well be killed within the next few moments. All that Valthir’s life depended on was the reactions of the lone soldier - and his own.

With a sigh, he surged forwards, sweeping his gun up towards the Blood Saint’s head. The soldier was barely able to raise his gun, let alone get off a shot. Latching on to his armor, Valthir pressed the gun into the soft neck liner that connected the helmet to the torso armor and pressed the trigger. The man convulsed and went limp in Valthir’s arms, who made sure to keep the corpse upright.

Checking the positions of the other Blood Saints, Valthir noted that there were one less than there were. Either that one is down reloading or . . . ah, he’s dead. He had spotted a pockmarked set of armor sprawled on the floor, with the former owner’s gun lying a few feet away. Nodding to himself, Valthir watched the other Blood Saints as he slowly straightened up. Njall and Balac are doing a good job of distracting them. I hope that they can keep it up.

It was then that he heard a tiny crackle coming from the dead man’s helmet. A crackle that sounded suspiciously like a comm activating. Instantly realizing what had happened, Valthir shifted the deadweight armor forwards, attempting to hide most of his body behind it as a wave of blaster bolts hit it. Even with his quick job to nearby cover and the body armor-shield, his armor still got a little scorched in places. Slowly, the fire slackened off until it was only a few bolts. By then, however, the cubicle Valthir was behind had been reduced to barely more protection than soggy paper. Quickly, he dragged the armor with him to another cubicle. Propping the corpse up to where it protected him, he quickly called for a status report.

“We’re holed up in a small office room right beside where most of the Blood Saints are at. We found a door that led to a small hallway, which in turn led to this room.” Skarr said, sounding a little hurried.

“Ok. Balac and Njall should be in the general front of them, you guys are on one side and I’m on the other. If I read Balac and Njall right, they should be keeping up a steady stream of fire into those Blood Saints. If we coordinate an attack, we should be able to catch them on three out of four sides and possibly drive them back.” Valthir responded, just as equally hurried.

“Wait, you’re where? Oh nevermind. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Got it.”

Peeking around the corner of his new cubicle, Valthir noticed that the Blood Saints were clustered  together even tighter than before. They may wear the armor of  a Blood Saint, but something tells me that these fools are nothing like the real thing. They’re probably no more than average grunts.

“All the Blood Saints are grouped up. Whenever you’re ready.” Valthir replied, abandoning his shield as he readied himself.

Balac smiled although a flash of doubt entered his mind. It had been some time since he last faced anyone in a real combat situation with a blade. Njall gave a signal and they both rushed, Njall attacked from the left and Balac swung his blade down in front of the Kyr'tsad Mando. He back stepped, moving out of the reach of Balac and parrying Njall's blade.

They broke off the attack, each looking for a weakness to exploit. Their foe was larger and had armor that was most likely superior to their stormtrooper armor. He was surprisingly quick as well.

Opening a comm to Njall, Balac spoke, "Get him off balance, attack in turns."

"Go." Njall replied.

The Kyr'tsad Mando flourished his weapon, bringing it to rest with the hilt in front of him with the blade rising up and pointed towards the two stormtroopers.

They charged again, attacking in turns, forcing the Mando to repeatedly block both blades. Balac hoped he would tire before they did.

Parrying Balac's blade, the Mando lashed out, connecting with fist to chest plate. Balac was forced back and lost his balance. Njall took the chance to kick the Mando's legs out from under him.

Njall stabbed down towards the Mando's neck, missing by a few inches as the Mando rolled. Quickly moving back up to his feet, he charged Njall, giving a flurry of strikes that Njall managed to parry or dodge. Getting back to his feet, Balac charged the Mando, once again putting him on the defensive.

As the Mando slapped Njall's blade aside, Balac charged into him, getting under the effective area of the Mando's blade. He snapped his fist up into the chin of the Mando's helmet and pain lanced through Balac's wrist. The Mando dropped his blade in surprise and fell back.

Balac pushed his blade against the Mando's neck.

"Very good." The Mando said, "I was wondering if I'd ever have a worthy fight again after we joined these 'Blood Saints.' "

"Shut up, aruetii."

"A Mandalorian are you? The Death Watch would like to have someone of your skill."

"The Death Watch are cowards." Balac stated flatly, struggling to hold his rage at the Mando.

"Ha! And waiting for someone to ask the Mandalorian's to join the war, and be treated as subhuman otherwise is courageous? Fool. You won't leave this building alive, none of you Imperial puppets will."

"Neither will you." stated Balac sharply. He stabbed his blade into the Mando's neck, listening to the gurgling die away. Retrieving the blade, he stood.

Balac felt a hand on his shoulder, "Feel better now?" Njall asked.

"No." Balac replied. He felt sick.

Skarr's voice came over the comm, "Njall, Balac, where are you?"

"On our way." Njall replied.

Replacing the blade on his armor, he headed for the door to rejoin the squad.

OOC:

Ok, Mando is dead. Njall and I are heading back to the room with the cubicles to rejoin the squad.

OOC:

Used in Skarr's Rewrite Challenge.

Stormtroopers do have a way of splitting a crowd. Any citizen on the streets would shy to one side of the road when the Imperials came marching down it, moving with purpose, immobile masks betraying nothing, but the guns in their hands and the stamp of their boots a stern warning against trouble.

Inside the helmets was a different story, though. “So I was just trying to pay the man, y’know?” Saph was saying as they marched on. “And he flinches back, no lie, four times!”

A few of the newer troopers snickered. The aggressive female Twi’lek continued, emboldened by the success of her story. “So I say to him - ‘Hey, what’s the matter? Imperial currency not good enough for you?’ and he says back - ‘No, I thought you were going to hit me!’”

“Why’s that?” Gates asked dryly, listening idly in as they navigated the Bakuran streets.

“Well, it just so happened that I’d just knocked six navy guys down and two of them weren’t exactly awake right at the moment anymore...”

As was anything involving the Stormtrooper half of the military getting the better of its rival, this drew laughs and general poor statements about the ability of Navy troopers and hand-to-hand combat training.

The squad turned the corner and finally reached their destination; a squat, twenty-story building that had the bold, blocky look of Imperial architecture. “BAXLER BUILDING” the thing stated, as if it dared anyone doubt it.

“Hey guys,” said one of the troopers. “I found the Baxler building, eh?”

“Nuh-uh, that’s the wrong one. Maybe there’s another, more obvious one around the corner because this obviously isn’t it.”

“Cut the chatter. We’re now officially in a combat zone. Weapons are on safe, but I give the order and you better be ready to shoot in seconds. Do not fire without orders unless overt aggression is made against you. That means no going off if someone looks at you funny, capiche?”

“Roger,” Corvin replied, flicking the safety on his E-45 but still holding it at the ready. The rest of Blackjack replied in similar ways, weapons ready but not up or armed.

Gates nodded again and then moved forwards. His walk now had a menacing stalk to it, not just a purposeful stride; his helmet twitched millimeters to the left and right, a reflex learned from hundreds of hours of combat to maximize peripheral and straight ahead vision. Behind the visor, his eyes moved almost as quickly as if in REM sleep; checking his HUD, team status, weapons status, possible targets; training and experience was all that keapt him from being overwhelmed by some many distractions.

The heavy glass doors, meant to intimidate nervous businessmen with the size and impressiveness of its entrance, failed to make him even bat an eyelash. His frame, in armor, filled up the doorway and eyes flashed to him, gaudy red dashed on his white armor. Faces turned pale at the sight of a single Stormtrooper, and adam’s apples bobbed when the rest of the squad followed him in.

An arrangement of greeters and secretaries sat at the end of the lobby. Stormtrooper boots smacked the marble floor of the open room with authority, not caring the scuffs or the ruckus they’d cause.

Gates stopped next to the closest desk and stared for a moment at the young woman sitting behind it. She sat paralyzed.

“Elevator to the tenth floor. Imperial business. Alert security; no one gets out of the building for the next few minutes.”

She pointed to a bank of elevators on the eastern wall and then waved a man in a blue and grey uniform over. The Stormtroopers stamped over to the elevators and called them all. Three arrived; those that had been inside were waved out, and the squad split into two fireteams, Gates at the head of one, Corvin in charge of the other.

“Remember,” Gates said, calmly as the doors slid shut and the elevator dinged as it ascended. “This is just an informant. Enemy contacts are not expected.”

Tinny elevator music played quietly throughout the small box of a transport. Slowly, the digital readout above the door changed, and the elevator dinged again when it read “10.”

The door opened to an office complex. Engineers and managers looked up at the arrivals and then looked right back down. Gates stepped from the elevator and walked to the back of the floor, where a man in executive’s clothes and demeanor was speaking avidly into his comlink. Gates’ fist knocked heavily on the man’s office door, and he turned, irritation written on his face. His face changed almost instantly and he quickly said something into the link and threw it down, rushing to the door.

“What can I do for you today?” said the man, his nervousness stuffed behind an excellent poker face.

“We are looking for a clerk on your floor who goes by the name of ‘Pat.’” Gates said.

“Pat? Probably meant Patrick...he’s over there. Third cubicle on the left.”

“Very well. Corvin, take your team and secure the objective. We’ll approach from the front, you come from behind if he tries to run.”

“Aye, sir.”

The man’s cubicle was only a few dozen feet from the elevators, and Corvin’s team started moving towards him. Gates led the rest of the Blackjacks marching right to him, and the clerk started sweating visibly.

“Patrick?” Gates asked, his voice saying more of a statement than a question.

“Y-y-es?” his statement turning more into a question.

“You are being taken into custody of the Vast Empire military. Do not resist and you will not be harmed.

Corvin halted his fireteam and they stopped moving towards Gates and his team. Behind them, the elevator dinged. The office workers gasped audibly this time, and Gates head snapped to the sound. A huge man in heavy armor stomped through the elevator’s open doors, an ugly gun in his hands, barrel large enough to stick your thumb in and a barrel attached to the normal placement of a clip.

At the same time, the wall-to-wall windows that overlooked the city smashed in and more of the grey-clad mercenaries rappelled in.

As Gates shoved the informant under his desk, his stomach sank. “It’s,” and he hated saying it. “A trap.”

OOC:

Posted a firefight. Let everyone get into it; setting is your stereotypical office building. Have fun with it

"Alright, that's the last one." Balac said.

"Good, everyone ok with the plan? Anyone need it repeated?" Skarr asked.

"No sir." Eclipse replied.

"Good. Alright send it up." Skarr ordered.

Balac set the elevator for the 32nd floor. "Up it goes in: 3.. 2.. 1."

"Move out."

"How many do you expect?" Balac asked Skarr.

"Too many." Skarr replied.

How many more Death Watch are there in this building? How many troops total are here? Balac thought to himself. Will we leave alive?

"Ok, quickly. We've got 31 floors to go, I don't want to take the chance of them finding our gift before we're ready." said Skarr.

With that, Eclipse started up the stairs. The constant winding of the stairway was making him dizzy. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, but the only way to find out was to continue. After an eternal amount of time they reached the 32nd floor.

"Alright, Valthir, you know what to do. Get there, get back, and we'll be able to settle this."

"Yes sir." Valthir replied.

Balac and Dirge followed Valthir slowly towards the elevator, constantly watching for anything that could be a threat. They had all heard the order to pull back to the 33rd, but it seemed impossible that there would be no troops left as sentries.

The comm clicked "Why do I feel like we're being watched?" Dirge asked.

"Certain to be cameras on this floor." Balac replied.

"I don't mean being watched through any security cams." Dirge said. "I don't think we're alone here."

"Keep listening and watching. Our entire plan from here counts on us getting this elevator moving." Valthir said.

"If anyone tries stopping us?" Balac asked, half-serious.

"That's their problem." Valthir replied with a slight chuckle.

Reaching the elevator they looked around.

"Ok good. Skarr, we're outside the elevator now, we'll send it on it's way on your order." Valthir announced over the comm.

"Good. Double-time it back here when it starts moving. Send it... now."

The elevator started moving and Valthir, Dirge and Balac started back to the stairwell.

"Elevator's moving, we're on our way."

"Good, we'll be waiting." Skarr replied.

OOC:

Ok, elevator's moving, Valthir, Dirge, and I are on our way back to rejoin the squad in the stairway outside the 33rd floor.

The Noghri stood silently beside the door to the thirty-third floor. It felt like an eternity before Valthir's voice came over his comlink, giving the order to infiltrate the room. A simple hand gesture was all Demented signaled before blowing the breaching charge he'd rigged up.

The explosion stunned the better half of the room's inhabitants, while ending the nearby assailants lives prematurely. Skarr was the first Eclipse trooper to breach the room, carefully dropping foes as he worked his way to a safety point. Njall followed the Squad Leader in cautiously, working his way to the opposite side of the room. Rokh moved in next, working his way toward his SL's side.

A few paces before the Private reached Skarr, however, a Blood Saint rose at the last moment and let out a volley of fire, striking Demented on his right hip and sending him flailing to the ground.

"Eclipse 5 is down! Repeat, Eclipse 5 is down!" Shouted Skarr as he ran crouched toward his downed trooper.

OOC:

Short, simple, to the point. Save me.

The doorseal hissed open, and blasterfire started to pour from it.

"Grenade out!" Garryll called, throwing the frag as he spoke. The cylinder arched through the air, bounced off the retracting doorseal, and skittered into the stairwell. There was a loud bang and the firing stopped.

Corvin stepped up to the doorway and looked down. Two mercenaries were sprawled on the landing below.. A moment's glance told him they wouldn't be getting back up again, especially not the one who'd evidently taken the brunt of the blast.

Overhead, the glowpanel flickered crazily, a shard of metal embedded in its surface. Somewhere below, a generator grumbled to itself, the noise echoing up the narrow shaft.

"Clear." Corvin reported, holding up one hand open-palmed as emphasis. "Team, advance."

The stormtroopers picked their way down the stairs, Corvin's team moving to either side while the other surrounded Quillia. The squad medic was half-carrying, half-dragging her semiconscious charge, whispering quietly to the man in an effort to get him to move.

"Come on, come on, that's it..."

"Platoon Commander, please respond." Garryll muttered. "Repeat, Platoon Comm-"

He broke off mid-word. A faded number six was painted onto the wall in front of the squad.

"It's no use." the SL said grimly. "We're still being jammed on all helmet com-frequencies."

"How the hells are they doing that?" a Blackjack wondered. Corvin realized that he didn't know the man's name, and felt a twinge of unease.

"Stormtrooper deserters." Corvin spat, as much to focus on something else as to explain. "Traitorous frakkers still remember the procedures."

There were angry mutterings from most of the Blackjacks at this.

"Still," the talkative trooper continued as the squad descended another floor. "That'd take some pretty fancy gadge-"

He was cut off by a blaster bolt hissing into the wall. Below, on the third story landing, the shooter was raising his pistol for another shot, two black-clad mercs turning with rifles raised.

"For the Empire!" Corvin yelled, raising his own weapon. Shots exploded into the ceiling and the walls, showering the squad with duracrete dust. A bolt grazed his shoulder, etching a long line into the plastoid. "Take them down!"

The stormtroopers needed no further prompting, firing in successive bursts. The three mercenaries jerked and writhed like marsh-grubs on an open flame, shriveling under the continuous stream of blasterfire.

What collapsed to the ground seconds later could barely be recognized as humanoid. There was a smell of burned flesh and ozone in the air.

"Keep moving!" Garryll barked as more mercenaries raced towards the doorway. "We don't have time for this!"

"Yes, sir!" Corvin replied sharply, fumbling with his belt pouch. "You two, covering fire!"

The Blackjacks Corvin had indicated opened up at once, ridding the doorway and room beyond with bursts of blasterfire. There was a scream of pain and curses as the mercenaries scrambled for cover.

Corvin stepped up to the doorway, pressed the activation stud on the concussion grenade he'd palmed seconds earlier, then threw it with all his strength.

There was a quiet ping, followed by a clunk. Then there was a deafening roar, a wave of sound that shattered half a dozen windows and sent squeals of static through the headsets of the troopers closest to the doorway.

His ears ringing, Corvin looked around the corner. Mercs were lying across the carpet, covered in the wreckage of cubicles and pieces of terminals. One or two were twitching feebly, the blast leaving  unable to do more than writhe like hooked mynocks.

Corvin nodded.

"Clear."

"Keep moving!"

The squad clambered down the stairs, cutting down the few mercenaries in their path. The informant moaned with each step, his eyes squeezed closed.

"Come on, you kriffing moron!" Quillia hissed. "Do you want to die?"

The clerk mumbled something.

"Then move!" the medic snapped, dragging him along.

The lobby was deserted, with only the bodies of slaughtered office workers and a few stray char marks to show that something had happened. Most of them had blaster burns on their backs.

Corvin observed this in a moment, the scene detached from any emotional context. Then and there, there was only the target. The target he could hate, could kill for this. Nothing else mattered. Later, he would remember this and report it, but for now there was only the target and orders.

The squad stepped through the main doors and into the street. It was strangely empty, with everyone in the area having fled once the shooting started.

There was a wail of sirens, and half a dozen enforcement speeders sped down the street, skidding to a halt just in front of the squad. Armed enforcers poured out, their weapons aimed at the squad.

"Late to the party, aren't they?" someone commented.

"Just let me do the talking." Garryll advised.  Behind him, the clerk whimpered again.

Corvin sighed, lowering his weapon.

What a frakking mess.

OOC:

Ok, that's the office finished. If you want to write us getting out of the awkward situation, feel free, or just skip to debriefing or whatnot...

Cubicles and equipment were starting to corrode and smoke from the jolting blaster fire, resulting in proper cover becoming an issue. Skarr tended to Demented in an isolated conference room away from the carnage, while the remainder of Eclipse traded fire with the Blood Saints for what seemed like hours, but the clock above the nearest water cooler, which had a gaping hole in the barrel, read only minutes. Copy paper, monitors, and chairs flew about the floor, tumbled about by shockwaves and plasma. Luckily, Eclipse took position underneath a balcony that shielded them from the overhead fire, but the opposite side had increasingly clear shots. Balac glued his back to a smoldering cubicle wall, crumbling progressively as the seconds passed, and shook his head in attempt to clear something out of his helmet.

  "We're not going to get anywhere with this damn sniper fire up top!" he exclaimed with a vertically pointed finger, though this wasn't necessarily recent news.

  "You think?!?" Valthir grunted, wiggling away from a recently embedded impact crater.

  Balac tried to butt Taran's shoulder, annoyed. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something about this?"

  Taran held his rifle to his chest, trying his best not to give away position with the tip of his rifle. He sat next to Balac, shoulder bound to the wall. He tried to get a peek around the side, but instantly was pushed back by a screeching bolt of blaster fire that ricocheted into the nearest terminal.

  "No time to get a shot off." Taran managed to reply, becoming quite thankful for the placement of the wall.

  "Well, don't shoot at them! Improvise!!" Balac shouted, letting a few rounds fly blindly above the cubicle.

  With that bit of inspiration, Taran lifted his head and observed the dangling light, flickering about in the chaos. The choice in position may have allowed for more overhead cover, but easily revealed the base of fire. Maybe the snipers above would have less of a chance to get a decent view, and therefore result in the continuation of the squad's lives... but it was only a theory. There were pods of lights below each balcony, and long fluorescent tubes gleaming from the ceiling. Taran looked back down to ground level and planned out the action, then snapped to the recently returned Skarr, who was busy throwing off a shattered piece of cubicle.

  "Shoot the lights, around the whole room." Taran quickly suggested.

  Skarr stopped to think about the premise for a moment and glanced up at the bulbs surrounding Eclipse.

  "Blind the line of sight?" He surmised.

  "Exactly." Taran confirmed.

  "That also means we don't have one either." Balac squirmed uncomfortably, still making haste with the gunplay. "You think this is a good idea?" he spoke to no particular person.

  Njall struggled to stay in place, shrugging off whizzing blaster fire and debris. "As long as we can use it to our advantage, why not?"

  Skarr turned to Taran once more. "You are the one with the eyes, kid. Your plan, your execution... your funeral." Taran nodded understandably and checked his magazine.

  "Alright, it's settled. Lights out on three." Skarr commanded, holding up a three-pronged hand, which slowly turned to two, then one.

  Upon completion of the fist, Eclipse rose over the piles of office debris and let loose a shower of fire upon the balls of light scattered across the room, suppressing the Blood Saints into cover for fear of becoming dead. Sparks flew out from the orbs and eventually cloaked the room in a smoky darkness. The silence following was deafening. A few showers of sparks and the creaks of shorted circuitry illuminated random parts of the chasm then was swallowed by black. Taran silently lifted himself from his wall and crouch-walked to a nearby copy machine, clearly out in the wide expanse otherwise known as "no-man's land". He leveled his rifle to the probable locations of the snipers, circling about in a slow manner. Now came the difficult part, creating a decoy to lure out the overhead fire. Taran rotated his head slowly, searching for a decent item to throw somewhere, before a shower of sparks shown the silhouette of a large, hunched over figure leaning over the balcony directly ahead, worming his neck about in a search pattern. Taran leaned his eyes into his scope and slid his targeted gaze into the same spot where the figure had been and sluggishly squeezed the trigger.

  The resulting bolt from Taran's rifle found its place, landing into the head of a Blood Saint sniper. The brilliant light only lasted for mere moments, but the energy released rivaled that of a fireworks display in relation to the suffocating darkness. Instantly a hail of meteors rained down from the sky, landing on no particular target in general. The shot had startled the entire Blood Saints' force, sending them into a panic, shooting wildly into the night. Within seconds, the shower stopped as Eclipse found their targets through what could only be described as a light war. A few bodies crumpled and fell to the floor, crashing upon desks and random assortments of supplies and pictures of beaches and families. Njall stood up quickly and ran into an adjacent hallway, planting a round into the bewildered and bloodied Death Watcher's head with a satisfied roar.

  The dust settled and Taran clicked his comm to signal the all-clear. Instantly, Eclipse found themselves running to the closest light source in a far hallway, Demented limping severely close behind. They all slouched over for a brief moment, attempting to catch their breath. Taran sat down violently and leaned his back to the stone wall, shaking slightly. Not one of his better ideas.

  ===

  Nolac struggled to find his feet amongst the dark, almost tripping on the smoking corpse of one of his guards. His boots were beginning to soak in blood, or at least what felt like blood. A few garbled moans from the body of a nearby guard indicated the dwindling margin for victory. There was no possible way this could be happening, he was Jared. Nolac.

  "Tell me..." He angrily growled. "Tell me my ship is ready, NOW!"

  Nothing but the hiss of radio static replied to his desperate call. It looked like he was going to have to get involved... personally. Nolac scowled at the thought. Not even worth his time. A faint glimmer in the dark caught his eye, further illuminated by a descending plume of sparks. It's body was metallic, smooth, and definitely had the sense of power radiating from within. Nolac strode up to the object and slowly picked it up with some strength, as it was as heavy as it was reflective. Toying for a memory in his brain, Nolac finally came across the identity of this newly found weapon, and deviously smiled upon the realization.

  ===

  "Well," Balac spoke finally. "That was interesting. Now we only have to deal with Nolac, if he hasn't already left."

  Skarr straightened out and looked up slightly, as if to gaze through the concrete and into his old mentor's eyes.

  "He won't be gone. It's never that easy with him." Skarr stated.

  "We already took out his reinforcements, let's go up and get him." Njall put forward. "Not much one man, even this man, can do against us."

  The remainder of Eclipse nodded slightly in agreement, but Skarr swiftly held up a hand to stop the forum.

  "You don't know him... like I do." Skarr barked, straining his neck to emphasize the importance of that fact.

  Taran managed to lift his heavy head from his knees and groaned. "If we just lived through something like that..." He pointed to the war-torn office, which promptly let loose another dazzling show of sparks, revealing how grim the battle really was.

  "I don't think one more guy could shake a stick at us."

OOC:

Well, there you go. A nice, creative battle scene. With the story ending here soon I'm giving the choice to you guys on what weapon Nolac has found, and how this will end. Post wise, I did put a lot of effort into it, and even disregarded the time at which I wrote it... which was late to say the least. Hopefully it'll do.