Psycho shot up from behind his cover, releasing bursts of high energy plasma from his rotary cannon. The blue plasma bolts sped across the rooftop, speeding towards a hostile New Republic soldier. As they neared, a slight pang of fear entered the soldier’s consciousness, but it didn’t last long; the blasts were already upon him. Round after round pierced through his armor, throwing his ragged body backwards, and ending the life of the man. Psycho turned his cannon laterally, spraying more bursts at soldiers. This time, they ducked, avoiding his dangerous attack. Their cover of tubes and pipes rattled and shook as his missed rounds caked against their surfaces, further intensifying the fear they already possessed: Blackjack squad was dangerous.
Though, that was only one second of the conflict that raged on the roof; there were plenty more to come. Sixty, exactly.
“So we’ve got a minute, ’jacks! Shore up and then retreat as soon as Kilroy’s done!”
Psycho tapped against his helmet, activating his radio. “On it. I’ll cover you guys, fall back to Kilroy!” His squad members nodded, but they really didn’t have a choice. Arguing over roles during a firefight was an easy way to get killed. Usually, when someone offered to do something, no one argued. They’d be plenty of more missions to step forward and volunteer for something.
Hearing the last statement, the squad members began to pull back, charging over pipes and anything else that was in their way. Psycho got up from his cover, resting his cannon on a box. Liberally, he pulled the trigger and kept his finger on it. The end of his gun spun rapidly, firing forward blast after blast. Though, he wasn’t particularly aiming at anything - there was nothing to aim at. Firing a volley of shots would keep the enemy down, allowing his squadmates to fall back. It was all tactical theory.
Suddenly, the rotating cylinder on his cannon slowed and the shots stopped all together. Confused, he turned his head to check the temperature gauge. With a sudden skip of his heart, he learned that his gun had overheated. A regular trooper would think nothing of it, just let it sit for a few seconds and it would be good to go, but large weapons could take five minutes or more to completely cool down, and Psycho didn’t have that kind of time. Cursing his stupidity, he dropped his gun and armed his pistol whilst tapping his helmet.
“Crest,” he commed, “I...uh...my gun’s overheated.”
Crest chuckled, but his laughter didn’t particularly fit in with Psycho’s mood. “Just let it sit for a moment or two. Didn’t they teach you that in the Academy?”
“Dammit Crest! I’m serious! These guns take forever to cool back down.”
“Well what do you want me to do about it?”
“Just thought I would let you know that there is nothing to keep the enemy down.”
“Well that’s not good, but don’t worry. I’ll snipe ‘em out from here. Just use your secondary weapon to make sure they don’t advance any further.” Psycho looked at his secondary weapon: a DL-44 blaster pistol. So small. So weak. So un-Psycho. But it was all he had.
Suddenly, as soon as a trooper picked his head up, Crest shot it off. Psycho was awed at his skill and quickness, and he was wondering if Crest had fired
before the man stuck his head up. Very impressive. Suddenly, two more troopers stood up and charged over their cover, advancing forward. This time though, Crest’s shot missed and slammed into a pipe, spilling a blue liquid. Psycho jumped out from his cover, pumping a few rounds at the incoming soldiers. The first few missed, but the second found a target, slamming into the soldier’s knee. However, the other commando kept on forward, and he was almost to stable cover. Psycho couldn’t allow that. Reaching at his belt, he grabbed a round grenade and armed it. Cooking it for a few moments, he chucked it at the soldier who was sliding in behind a tube. The grenade landed with a quick clank before it ignited. The grenade shattered into a flash of noise and debris, killing the soldier instantaneously. However, right next to the grenade was a gas line, and the small explosion was enough to ignite it. With a tremendous bang, the pipe’s explosive gas ignited, sending a violent shock wave in all directions. Psycho, who had ducked initially, was shielded slightly, but he still was sent flying a few meters, grunting as he crashed to the floor. Fire and debris flew out next, smashing into more pipes and soldiers, spilling liquid and blood alike.
Dazed and confused, Psycho tried to grasp his bearings but was unsuccessful. A loud ringing had filled his ears, and his head had hit the ground hard, intensifying any delusions. Slowly, the ringing quieted, allowing him to hear a familiar voice.
“Psycho? Psycho? Psycho, are you there? Shit. He better not be dead.”
Somehow, through the fog of confusion and pain, he managed to mutter three words. “Crest, I’m alive.”
“Aw, thank the galaxy! Crusnik, come with me, and will grab him.” Only a few seconds later, he felt the reassuring grasp of his squad mates lift him up. His vision cleared, and he opened his eyes. He sat leaned up against a box, Crest and Crusnik at his side. In the distance, Kilroy was operating his beacon, with Val and Alater returning fire to Thrawnists below.
“Nice move you pulled up there. Blasted intelligence didn’t tell us there would be gas lines. Though, the commandos have retreated from the roof, so its nice and quiet while Kilroy finishes up-”
“Done,” Kilroy yelled, grabbing his rifle and rushing over to the squad. Val, ducking from an incoming blaster bolt, met back up with his team, Alater by his side.
“Alright,” he began, “Let’s get to that personnel carrier. Psycho, you feeling up for the rest of the mission?” He grudily nodded. He was feeling better, but still a little achy and off balanced. “Good, but we don’t have much time. Here, tie these to the pipes.” He pulled out some ropes and handed them to various members. Quickly, they were securely tied to the tubes and thrown over the edge of the house. “Someone cover me.” Leading the way, Val grabbed his rope and swung down over the edge of the building. Valkerie and Kilroy returned fire to Thrawnist stormtroopers, though, most were in the mansion by now.
Next, Kilroy grabbed the rope, easily sliding down. Alater slid down another. Sensing it was his turn, Psycho grabbed his rope with both hands and eased himself over the edge of the rooftop. Heights didn’t particularly scare him, but he wasn’t trusting his senses too much, and he didn’t want to fall. As he slid down, he looked over to his side to see Crest sliding along side him. Psycho silently nodded to his Assisstant Squad Leader, who nodded back.
Suddenly, the ground appeared rather quick under Psycho’s feet. Grabbing his pistol, he pumped a few rounds at the stormtroopers before heading towards the shuttle.
