OOC:

I know this won't count for squat toward the competition, but consider all the electronic b/s I had to endure getting the damned thing typed, here it is.

Private Blake Denex coughed blood as he regained consciousness.  The pain was overwhelming, yet he could bring no curses to his lips.  His chest hurt.  he had an ugly, seeping wound.  I can't die here!  I wanna Live!  Marry Xendra!  Thinking of his Iktotchi girlfriend got him the will to move; adrenaline pumping he tore the Bacta canister from his belt.  Inserting the dispenser directly into the open wound he emptied its contents.

A moment or two later and he could sit upright.  Frag.  Looking around he was surrounded by the bodies of many of his squadmates.  Sgt Zalga and Cpl. Hill weren't among the dead; neither were Pvt. Orda nor Pfc. Gaines.  Taking solace in the fact some of Candy Squad was alive and kicking somewhere gave the raw trooper hope.

Blake took stock of his sitch; comlink fragged to hell.  Can't find his fallen comrades' comms either.  Taking extra ammo, Brace's Power-5 and a bandolier of greandes, Blake started back to the main part of the water treatment facility.

The clamor of armor on duracrete snapped the Private's attention to another squad of imperial bucketheads comming down the tunnel.  Setting the timer on one of the grenades he started swing the bandolier around to build momentum and threw it the instant the stormies spotted him.  As planned the one greade's detonation set off all the others; frag, cryoban, concussion, plasma and sonic grenades made an impressive sight.

Too late Blake realised as pretty as the display was it was more deadly in the confines of the tunnel than he'd bargained for.  The blossoming cloud of light and shrapnel rapidly filled space in the tunnel.  Fueled further by the grenades and thermal detonators the stormies carried, the bucketheads' funeral pyre ripped open the tunnel and sent the soldier flying.

Blake Denex had become a ragdoll/projectile; he was airborne at such velocity everything was a blur.  He was certain he was about to die any second now.  His world went black.

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When he came to a few hours later a badly beaten and scuffed Private Laure Orda was patching him up with help from civilian medics.  She tried telling him something but he couldn't hear; her or anything else.  Using a repulsorlift stretcher they hauled him into an ambulance.

Once on a transport off-world, Laure gave him a datapad.  Candy Squad was annihilated; the bucketheads controlled the water suppy.  The damned Imps had won...