Crest watched the blatant destruction of property in disgust... and then caught himself. Had he not joined just to get something to do? What did he care about the glorious and Vast Empire? Yet why had he not joined Aieya on just a free-roaming the galaxy? Was he, he who had killed so many without a hint of emotion, starting to feel kinship with the Empire? Had he begun to feel emotion?

It’s time to move on. Leave the Army. Leave the Stormtrooper Corps. Leave the Vast Empire. Leave... Blackjack?... Yes, leave them. I swear this will be my last mission.

Crest felt his hand tremble slightly. His mouth twisted into a grimace at the sign of weakness, and he clenched his hand.

“...Dismissed.”

As he heard the word, Crest turned on his heel and silently whisked himself out of the room, unwilling to present the slightest sign of his decision.

Yet he could not figure out the damned why?. Why did he not want to leave? Why was this happening? WHY now? The answer was as simple as complex. Why not?

Crest’s feet instinctively pounded a path, yet where to they were taking him Crest had no idea. He was answered when they brought him to the armory.

Why not? Val did say to prepare ourselves and get the equipment we need.

Crest strode into the armory hunting for a particular suit of armor. His eyes glazed over the various weapons and armors. There were only two weapons he picked up, the TI-47 Deathwind Sniper Rifle, courtesy of the Army, and the M-66SD, a personal favorite of his. He picked up seven clips for both of them yet did not load clips into the guns. Safety and all that fine stuff required by those idiotic administrative workers. Walking on, he eventually found the camo scout armor.

The black suit created an eerie appearance. Only one thing was marked for command purposes. The right shoulder pauldron had a two-finger wide blue stripe, in lieu of the blue pauldron given to ASLs.

“Yours?”

The question startled Crest, who looked over at the asker.

In front of him stood a woman with a look of glinting disapproval at the mini-armory Crest was accumulating. Her black hair accented her light-brown skin, creating a beautiful appearance. While Crest had not paid the utmost attention to Val, he had been able to read the file. As far as he could remember, there was only one woman in Valiant...the ASL.

“Yeah, it’s mine. You my fellow ASL?”

“I don’t need to answer a brute who thinks with his gun.”

The woman casually brushed past Crest, completely ignoring him.

Brute who thinks with his gun? That’s rich.

Unwilling to talk further and contemplating his decision, Crest fluidly tagged the armor and weapons to be held for him.

Sleep comes next, then.


--------------------

Crest lay in the bed quietly looking at the ceiling. The faces of Blackjack squad, past and present, that he had known stared in silence, showing their utter contempt for his decision. Crest thought of every pathetic justification he could find to silence their protest. Yet the stubborn faces refused to move.

Damn it! I’ve already made by decision! Get the hell out of my mind!

Crest quietly got onto his feet, sleep forgotten about. If this was the game the ghosts wanted to play, this was the game he would play. Crest produced a sheet of flimsi and began to write on it. If the ghosts refused to move in hopes of changing his decision, he would make it final. The words burned the ghosts, and the ghosts screamed in agony. Crest’s hand wrote like water flowing off a waterfall, and with each word his resolve steeled. Kilroy, with his odd explosives, tossed one of his trademark explosives toward him.

“Dare you leave? Shall I burn you? Shall I make a thousand pieces out of you!?!”

“You’re not even real! You do not even speak like the Kilroy I know! OUT!”

Kilroy vanished, only to be replaced by Psycho, in full armor and with a submachine gun.

“You never fought like I do, and now you are in my zone. Don’t make me do this to you.”

“Hmph. Psycho would never use anything less than a cannon. You will not be real! VANISH!”

Psycho disappeared, only to have Dunny appear in front of him, in full SCOPE armor. Crest yelled before the ghost could humiliate him.

“You never wore the thigh plates of the armor! GET-the hell- OUT OF MY MIND, FIEND!”

Dunny vanished, and a moment of respite came to Crest, before the door creaked open. Crest nearly fell over in a hurry to his feet.

“Gates, sir! I didn’t know you were here.”

Crest snapped off a salute, and it was promptly returned. Gates calmly walked over to the sheet Crest was writing on. His eyes scanned over it, and his face showed contempt. Crest felt humiliated as he prepared to explain. Something stopped him though. It had morphed into Val’s face... and Crest realized he had never seen contempt in Garryll’s face in the little time he had been with him. The horrible waking-nightmare was filling in details it did not have with other details. Without the highest command spot holder’s emotion, it had used the next highest, Val.

“DISAPPEAR, YOU GHOST! YOU HAVE NOT HALF THE ABILITY OF GATES!”

Crest’s scream ripped the ghost to pieces. With anger burning any hesitation in his mind, Crest poured out the last few words and finished the resignation. Three folds later, it was stuffed into one of his pouches.

“Where are you beasts now!?!”

Nothing answered him. Crest smirked as his ghosts disappeared. Maybe finally he could grab that much needed sleep.

THUD!

“GIVE!  GIVE!  GIVE!”

“Che, done already?  You’ve gotten dull since our last match.”

“Have not; you just keep using that tail of yours.  It’s super effective.”

“Sure it is, as if my father didn’t give you pointers on countering it before we all left for Thyveck.”

Chuckling to himself, John to admit it, his friend Horo was in fact the best sparring partner that he’s ever had.  I have yet to find someone that can pull of an arm bar like she does.  He thought as he was finally released from the submission lock that the Fenrisian girl had put him into.  The small moment of respite the Cadian had was suddenly interrupted as John received a swift elbow to the gut, much to his attacker’s amusement.  Such was the life of one who came from a planet where the two major culture’s had a sort of friendly, yet spirited, relationship.

“So…..”

“So?”

“How does it feel to be a non-com?”

“It feels, odd, although you are probably going to say that I’ll get used to it after a while.”

“Yep; and how are the members of Valiant squad?  What are your thoughts of them?”

“Well…..”

---

I have to admit it, but it looks like Reiko is going to have her work cut out for her.  Although I wonder how that other Lance was able to make it in.  Actively antagonizing your compatriots is a sure way to be singled out.  John mused as he walked out of the male refreshers and into the locker room.  Lost in thought, he began to put his PT uniform back on, paying no heed to the fact that his hair had yet to dry as he finished.  If it wasn’t for the beeping of his own communications device, chances are the Cadian would have walked face first into the locker room door.

“This is Kil.”

“Hey Kil, this is Vector from the PX.  We got a care package here for ya, so come pick it up when you get the chance.”

“On my way.”

“You’re supposed to report to the shuttle, Corporal.”

Crest made no acknowledgement of the message, but instead just looked down the scope, lining up the shot.

“Do you hear me?”

Crest sighed and slightly relaxed his finger off the trigger.

Now, first off, if you’re bothering me in the middle of a shot, prepare yourself for my wrath. Next, you impertinent brat, I’m a rank above you, so I’m going to have to teach you a bit of respect.

“Do you hear me...”

Neyja audibly sighed, exasperated at this abuse of military protocol. Behind his visor, Crest smiled and just continued making fine adjustments to his lined-up shot. A kilometer and a half was quite a bit longer than any shot he had attempted so far.

“Do you hear me-”

Crest squeezed the trigger, and the rifle drowned out Neyja’s obedience to military protocol (or rather, submission to the abuse of military protocol).

“Yes? As you were saying, Lance Corporal?”

Crest pushed himself off the ground and turned around to face a red-faced, livid Lance Corporal Sanytha Neyja. Crest cocked his head slightly to the side, daring her to challenge him. She growled slightly in an attempt to get the higher-ranked stormtrooper in front of her to apologize. Crest only stood there, doubled over with fits of laughter inside his head. She again audibly sighed and re-submitted to Crest’s clear (though not exactly wrong) abuse of protocol.

“Did you receive the message, sir?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t think so. Do you mind repeating it, Lance Corporal?”

At this point, Crest was grinning ear to ear behind his visor and was on the verge of losing his composure.

“You are to report to the shuttle with all due haste... sir.”

Crest made no acknowledgement of the message. If he had already began antagonizing her, he might as well do the full act.

“Did you hear me?”

“Did you hear me...”

“Did you hear me, sir?”

“Yes, Lance Corporal.”

Sanytha turned sharply on her heel to walk out of the firing range and began muttering under her breath.

“...loody idiot-”

“Lance Corporal? Would you be under any odd coincidence be demeaning a superior officer?”

Sanytha pulled herself to halt and turned around. With an innocent look, she replied.

“No.”

“No...”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you. Keep it that way.”

There was only one thought in both their minds.

Idiot.

--------------------

While it would have pleased Crest to no end not to report to the shuttle just to spite Neyja, he really did need to actually report to the shuttle. As he walked on the ramp, he mused on how early it was as no one was in the shuttle yet. He quietly took a seat and waited for the rest of Blackjack and Valiant to finally wake up and come in.

Let’s see... Camo scout armor? Check. M66-SD? Check. TI-47 Deathwind Sniper Rifle? Check. Ammo? Check. Wire cutters? Check. D’skar Dagger? Check. Resignation... Check. It always does seem like we get shipped around faster than we can blink, and if this is going to be my last mission I’ll bring it along this time.

A soft banging of somebody walking up the ramp came to Crest’s ears, and he was elated at the change to talk to somebody. Crest was slightly crestfallen as he saw it was Neyja. She walked into the shuttle and sat down opposite him. A one word greeting was offered by her.

“You.”

“You...”

“You, sir.”

Who knew pulling rank could be so fun...

OOC:

Alright, this makes it official that you all are to come to the shuttle. For everyone. *cough**cough*

How long has it been?  How long since the last time I wore this armor and carried this rifle? John ‘Kilroy’ Varl reminisced as memories once buried now began to surface.  When the guys at the PX told him that there was a package from home, he had originally thought it was something from his family, favorite foods, magazines, holo-tapes, and the usual one would expect in a care package.  What he got however came directly from one Lt. Colonel Alexander Shrike, commander of the 8th Mechanized Infantry Brigade within the 412th Cadian Shock Division of the Rhyzan Armored Fists 18th Army Corps; a man that Kilroy and several brothers in arms owed their lives to. 

The package itself practically consisted of all of his old service equipment, uniform, and gear.  Hell, even his most prized possessions; a couple of service patches and challenge coins were included as well.  It was, in essence, a reunion of sorts as tears flowed freely down the hardened veteran’s face.

“Daaawwwww, is the poor wittle engineer crying?”  A random trooper in the barracks called out, hoping to draw out some sort of reply.  Although it was an expected form of hazing when one’s emotions were being shown so openly, John was going to have none of it at the time, for manly tears were being shed.  A quick glance to the offender prevented any further banter from arising as the fellow enlisted began to realize just what was going on.

Might as well get this party started, can’t keep the squad waiting now. He thought, wiping his face dry as he finally stopped crying.  Sighing heavily, the Cadian quietly began to inspect his current load-out, a process that took some time as John fought to keep his emotions in check.

---

Who knew that pulling rank could be so fun?  Corporal Crest thought as the passenger opposite of him went stir crazy.  Although he wouldn’t normally pull off such a stunt, having seen how ruthless some could be with it, Crest couldn’t help but smile as he drove his Valiant counterpart up a wall.  His antics however were cut short as another trooper joined them in the crew compartment.  This one, despite the fact that he was wearing some armor that looked heavy for its size, was easily recognizable with the helmet off.

“Sup Killjoy?”

“Not much, Crest…What’s up with you?”

What’s going through his mind?  I’ve never heard him sound this depressed before.  Crest wondered, noticing a stark difference in his comrade’s tone.  While his fellow Blackjack member had always had a cold and deadpan voice which was offset by the eccentric personality, it was a first to see the engineer’s mood to actually match the bitterness that he often spoke with.

“You alright man?  You look as bad as you normally sound.”

“I dunno man, it’s just….well….I thought I’d be a lot happier whenever I got the chance to wear my old uniform, you know the nostalgia factor.”

“So that’s what where you got that stuff from, was about to say.”

“Yeah….but, all I really feel right now is just…. anger, sadness, and guilt.”

“I see….By the way, you know you have two different ranks showing up on the IFF?”

“I do?”

“Yeah, a highlighted one being that of Lance Corporal for the Vast Empire, and another in a deep bluish green box showing that of a sergeant.  You ain’t trying to pull rank on me now eh?”

“What I never told you?  I made E-5 in my prior service, guess you could say I got the best demotion ever being assigned to Blackjack.  And no, I have no clue why that’s there.”

Cheeky. 

"Didn't know you made Colonel, Doc," a rather husky man finally broke the silence as the two walked down one of the Fort Sexton halls towards the hangar bays.

"Rank's useful, keeps people away," Riqimo shrugged and adjusted the strap for the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, "and put that cig out, Karv."

"I smoke when I'm nervous," Karv muttered and inhaled once more before tossing it aside.

"Not keen on going home, huh?"

"I'm not keen on the possibility of serving a couple life terms if I get recognized there."

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here and see what the intel agents want to do you to you instead," Riq managed a half-hearted grin, his mind still in a flurry from the past few days.

Click. Karv lit another cig, "Yeah, thanks for that by the way, as much as I like you as a person, you're a real pain in my arse and business once in a while."

"I said to put those out... you know what, nevermind, give me one.  I need it."

---

"Point of no return, Doc?" Karv gazed across the hangar with a slight hint of hesitation.

Riqimo gazed at him sadly and managed a weak smile once more, "That was hours ago, Karv."

"Some notice of that would have been nice," the smoky breath of the man was noticeable over the exhaust of the hangar.

"That's our shuttle on the other side, looks like they are about to get on board, let's get moving, we're not going to be stranded on Tadath if we know what's good for us."

The pair approached the shuttle with a steady brisk gait, slowing only to catch the last of a conversation as two men marked as a squad and platoon leader started heading up the ramp.

"Hate to spoil your parade here, but I'm going to have to pull rank I believe," Riqimo hopped up after them, his short stature made it almost comical as stood before them changing their plans, "VE Intelligence has me assigned to you as liaison.  Colonel Pershaw at your service; and this is Karv Imidris, civilian specialist. Jafir is his homeworld and will be able to give us some insights."

"This is... rather last minute," the platoon commander raised an eye brow in surprise.

"I'm sure you know how bureaucracy works here, don't like it myself," Riq shuffled through his duffel a bit until he pulled out a datapad and tossed it over while slipping past them onto the shuttle, "Let's get a move on, all the clearances and briefings are on there.  Long story short, an officer of the ground corps, General Eunice was murdered two days ago.  Recently uncovered information of the last few hours leads us to believe it was an act of the rebels you are going after, thus your short notice."

Skarr seemed to glance at the datapad for a bit, at least making sure the orders were right, and then deciding he'd have more time to read the rest en route, "Well welcome aboard then, sir, always glad to have a shining predecessor onboard.  Heard stories about your days in Eclipse since I took over Squad Leader for it.”

Riqimo winced for a moment, glad he was not facing them at the moment and tossed his bag on the shuttle floor with a loud thud, “Well, I’m with Intel now.  But glad to see it lives on strong.”

“Eclipse? Blackjack? Man you guys suck at naming squads,” Karv muttered between puffs of his cig.

“Put that goddamn thing out.  We’re going to be breathing the same damn air until we get to Jafir on this ship,” Riq resisted the urge to actually grab the cig out of the man’s mouth, as he didn’t want to take on that officer demeanor in front of the two squads and platoon commander.

“Fine, fine.”

“Anyways, I’m here to do my thing while you do yours.  I won’t be interfering with your operation,” Riqimo nodded to the chaps in charge, “If you need information, I’m likely your man.  If we need firepower, that’s your job naturally.”

The base sprawled around them. Military personnel rushed about, intent on doing their job. Only fourteen people stood semi-peacefully beside seven LAAT/i’s. The shuttle had encountered some odd, mystical, and elusive problem, so they diverted to the base about three hundred miles south of their destination. Now they were taking the LAAT/i’s to the Jafir-Rek.

“So, yeah, why are we taking these many LAAT/i’s, boss...es? Wouldn’t one do?”

Crest looked over at Drake, Valthir, Skarr, and Riqimo, hoping for some form of explanation. Riqimo did not disappoint.

“It’s been speculated that the rebels are preparing to use low-tech, self-propelled grenades to attack shipment supplies, so as a precaution all low-altitude shipments are spread out across multiple vessels. In our case, we’re taking LAAT/i’s all the way to Jafir-Rek.”

Crest thought about it for a moment and then nodded his understanding. Precautions were always a must. Valthir stepped forward and delivered the final set of instructions.

“Blackjack, Valiant! Board the shuttles, no more than two people to each one. Each LAAT/i has been loaded with some food supplies and medical supplies, a precaution in the unlikely case one of them gets shot down.”

The two squads quietly distributed themselves across the seven LAAT/i, with some pairs not heeding squad lines. It brought a smile to Crest’s lips. Valiant was going to be a crucial piece for this mission, and the two squads would do well to become a sort of jumbo-sized squad. There were the new ones. It was a sad fact that they would probably be better at adjusting to this new setup then some of the older, combat-tried veterans.

Crest waited for a while as the various Valiant and Blackjack members boarded the shuttles. Only one LAAT/i was left with an open spot.

“Oh, look, it’s my favorite Lance Corporal.”

Sanytha looked up with an exasperated look.

“Just the last thing I needed.”

“Aww, so you did care.”

Crest sat down opposite Sanytha.

“I never did catch your callsign.”

The answer was terse.

“Aquila.”

“Ah. Mine’s Crest.”

Her answer was a silent nod.

“Welcome to VE-provided air service. This will be a non-smoking flight over three hundred miles of jungle. If you forget, there is a stun blaster to remind you. In the very unlikely case we get shot down over the nearest water body one hundred miles to the west of here, floatation devices are not available, so you will die. Have a nice flight.”

The two ASLs laughed together good-naturedly at the joke. The pilot gently took the LAAT/i off the ground.

Maybe she isn’t that much different. Although I will have to fix that feminist-supremacist attitude.

“So how’d you get into the Army?”

Aquila snapped her head up, surprised by the question.

“Well...”

--------------------

“Nevertheless, it’s nice to have you here.”

“You mean that?”

Crest was slightly taken aback at the question.

“Of course I meant it.”

“Sorry... it’s just that... well... I’ve never had the compliment.”

An uneasy silence passed for a while.

“What brought you to the Army, Crest?”

“Paperwork, signatures, a physical examination, and some training on how to run around with a gun.”

“In all seriousness, though.”

Crest sighed, knowing that he was not getting out of this one. He opened his mouth to talk. But a self-propelled grenade tends to cut off explanations, and it did not disappoint this time.

“What in the galaxy?”

The pilot yelled back a response.

“Standby! Secure yourselves for a rough ride!”

A quick glance saw a barrage of the cursed grenades spewing from below. One LAAT/i took a hit and spiraled down. Crest mentally flogged himself for not memorizing who was on which LAAT/i.  The other LAAT/i’s gunners opened up, but they could only find and kill the rebels which had already shot.

The LAAT/i’s took hits from the barrage and, one by one, crashed into the arms of the waiting ground. Only one other one remained apart from the ASLs’ LAAT/i. Yet, luck was apparently not on their side. Almost simultaneously, both LAAT/i’s took hits. Crest lost sight of the other LAAT/i as his went into a nosedive.

“Secure yourselves!”

Crest, without hesitating, strapped himself in. Aquila had already done the same. Time vanished as the LAAT/i slammed, nose first, into the ground. The dead halt jarred both Corporal and Lance Corporal.

Crest silently cut the restraints and secured his TI-47 Deathwind and M66-SD, plus their respective ammo clips. Aquila was already one step ahead of him, and she was reviewing the food and medical supplies.

“Aquila? You mind if I check outside for a sec?”

“Sure.”

Crest slowly pulled the door open and stuck his head out. He was greeted with a sharp drop.

“Why, look at that. Rest in peace, pilot. Thank you for not sticking us into a cliff face.”

“What’d you say, Crest?”

“Nothin’, Aquila.”

Crest walked to the other side and pulled the door open. This time he was greeted with a view of the plateau they had landed on. The other LAAT/i lay rolled over on its side a few meters away.

“Aquila, there’s another LAAT/i over here. The supplies can wait; we need to check for survivors.”

She brought her head up and came beside Crest. Almost as one, the two of them jogged towards the LAAT/i.

“I don’t hear anyone, Crest.”

“Doesn’t matter. We still check.”

Crest laid his rifle on the grass and pulled himself onto the side of the LAAT/i. Thankfully, the door was not mangled and a good, hard push slid it open.

Inside, he found himself facing two blaster rifles. One of the figures wore Blackjack’s red armor... and both wore orange pauldrons of squad leaders.

“Valthir?”

“Nice to see you too, Crest. Now help us out of here.”

Crest laid down and grabbed Valthir’s proffered hands. Upon seizing them, he pulled Valthir up, letting himself slide down the LAAT/i as a counterweight. The process was repeated with Drake. The two SLs had already split their supplies between themselves.

“So what now, Val, Drake?”

“We need to contact the squad.”

A moment later, Valthir was broadcasting on the universal frequency.

“Blackjack squad, Valiant squad. You are to wait for evac. If you have to move, rendezvous point is the rebel main camp. Stalk them, raid their outposts, do whatever you need to find the camp, but, remember, stay at your LAAT/i if you can. In any case and above all else, stay alive! Do you all copy?”

“Kil......port.......opy?”

Crest was mystified.

“Repeat?”

Yet it was not Kilroy who gave a reply. It was Valthir.

“What’d..ou..say..rest?”

Crest tapped his helmet twice and took it off. Valthir, Drake, and Aquila followed suit.

“There must be a jamming device. It’s breaking up our comms.”

Nobody had a comment on that. A mixture of exasperation and anger was evident on everyone’s face. Valthir broke the silence.

“I wonder if they received my message.”

Crest nodded his head in affirmation.

“It came over clear to me, so it’s more than likely that they got the message.”

“I hope so.”

Crest thought he heard a bit of worry in Valthir’s voice... but then again he often read too much into Valthir. Aquila interrupted Crest’s thoughts.

“We can’t defend this plateau nor are we trained for defense. We need to go on the offensive, attack the rebels.”

Crest tacked on an additional statement.

“And a group of four leaves too much of a signature, especially as two LAAT/i’s crashed here. If we go on the offensive, we need to split up into two groups and meet up again at a rendezvous.”

Drake unexpectedly supported the ASLs.

“I agree. We’re not trained for defense, and we need to split up into two groups, as two LAAT’s will bring attention, but only temporarily.”

Valthir turned around and pointed at a small spiral mountain about fifteen miles away.

“We’ll meet up at the base of that mountain. Gather as much information as you can and get there by morning. From there, we’ll hunt down the rebel main camp and meet up with the squad. Aquila, Crest, grab your supplies and get into the jungle. Drake and I will begin moving so that we can be a bit more split up.”

Aquila and Crest nodded their understand and jogged back to their LAAT/i. It was quickly stripped of its supplies.  Tying a rope into the LAAT/i, the two of them rappelled down the cliff into the jungle.

“So, what surprises does the jungle have for us today, Aquila?”

“Ask the rebels.”

OOC:

Our LAAT/i group has been scattered all over a primarily jungle terrain, but there is a variation of terrain. Jafir-Rek is still about a hundred miles away.

Assemble into whatever groups you want (Please not the entire squad in one group? Kinda defeats the purpose of scattering us). You do have some medical supplies and food supplies. Your pilot and two gunners can survive, but they won’t last long.

Rebels: They’re not extremely well-trained, but their groups are quite big (eg. 15+). Enough to make you have to run or do some extremely creative fighting. As you assemble into bigger groups, expect the numbers of rebels to grow exponentially.

Don’t expect to find any rebel camp, big or small, easily. Also, it will be a hard, long, and dangerous trek to main camp. Don’t be afraid to play with time but don’t get too far ahead of the rest of the squad. (eg. You’re three days ahead of the squad would be extremely bad; 24 hours should be a good guideline limitation.)

Hmmm, this scene feels verrry familiar to me.  I wonder why that is. John ‘Kilroy’ Varl thought as the LAAT/i was fatally wounded by an RPG.  As the drop ship rapidly began to lose altitude, John and his fellow passenger both reacted with a calm and collected demeanor.  Reaching into a side pocket, the Cadian deftly put a gum shield into his mouth and just as swiftly placed his helmet on as well.  Noting that his Valiant squad counterpart had done the same, John couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction that experience had taught both of them well. 

Hey how many times does this make it? How many times have these things crashed on us? He signaled, not wanting to go through the hassle of adjusting the mouthpiece back and forth to speak.  Likewise, the other Imperial did the same, probably to avoid accidentally biting their tongue off when they actually crashed.

I fething hate you so much, you know that?  By the goddess’s, if this Laarty doesn’t stop spinning I think I’m gonna throw up on you.

Chuckling darkly, John knew that the likelihood of that happening was slim.  From the altitude that they were originally at as well as the overall velocity that they were going, the chances of having any survivors were drastically low.  Nonetheless, I guess that means I won’t have to worry about any paper work, if this drop ship is the only one that goes down that is.  He thought just before losing consciousness.

---

I love being able to do this, lie down and watch the clouds pass overhead. Lance Corporal Reiko ‘Horo’ Nagase thought as she relaxed amidst familiar surroundings.  It had been years since the last time she was able to do this, back before college and then Imperial service.  To be able to once again bask in the warm glow in the summer evenings was a feeling like no other.

Closing her eyes, Horo sighed gently as the various aspects of the forest began to invade her acute senses.  The smell of wood and rain went together nicely with the scent of wild berries and other fruits of nature.  Complimenting this lovely fragrance, were the sounds of metal creaking, small brush fires burning…and of wounded men weeping for their mothers before being quickly silenced.

Wait….What?!?

---

Woah now, take it easy!  Kilroy thought as his fellow non-com awoke from her crash induced slumber.  Grasping the startled Fenrisian firmly before she calmed down, the more experienced veteran subtly shielded his friend from the gruesome scene right next to them.  Despite the fact that both of them had gone through a lot together, this was something that he would rather not have her see. 

Although the drop-ship had made it down in relatively one piece, such was not the fate of all those aboard it.  Both gunners had the unfortunate luck of having minimal protection when the globes met dense jungle head on, wood puncturing what little armor there was in several places.  The portside gunner however had received the worst of it, having been on the foremost edge when the green sea engulfed them.  How the man had survived with his intestines ripped out for all to see wasn’t really on Kilroy’s mind;  all that mattered now was he was in a better place.

“How you feeling?  Think you’ll be able to walk and shoot a blaster?”

“I…I’m okay, but I think I might have dislocated my shoulder in the fall.”

“I see, well unfortunately for you the pilot and surviving gunner have called dibs on the carbines, so it looks like your candy ass will have to handle my GR-110.”

“Har-dee har har.”

“All jokes aside, gather as much supplies as you can, we’re moving out.  It’s time we act like the little groups of angry cap-troopers that we are and start raiding the enemy.”

“That was the most mentally deficient act I have ever witnessed,” Helinar calmly stated. “You leaped out of our ship, crashing into the ground below. Do you realize how inconsiderate to your body that was?” However, the Bespian only chuckled. The medic he was conversing with was so bland in his emotions, Psycho couldn’t help but laugh, even if he didn’t understand what he was saying. He would have expected the man to be angry or worried, but not calm. It was almost like an oxymoron. “What’s so particular to this cognitive experience to provoke amusement? Or, in dullard speech, ‘What’s so funny?’”

“You’re bland,” Psycho replied, managing to get through his ever increasing laughter.

“Bland? If that is supposed to be an attempt at decreasing my morale, than it has utterly failed. If you’re stating a fact, then what evidence do you hold to support it?”

Psycho stopped laughing, learning that the medic was quite serious about his comment. Or was he always like this? “Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

Helinar frowned and sighed; it was the first sign of emotion Psycho had seen out of him yet. “Alright,” he began, in his monotonous voice, “Did you mean that as an insult or a fact? Because clearly I cannot speak to you in such a complex way of voice.”

“You really seem worried about that one comment,” Psycho pointed out.

“You are incorrect. I-” Psycho cut him off.

“Alright, smarty-boy. I don’t care about what I meant. You sound bland. You have no emotion. Understand? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go scavenge this wreckage.” Hearing that, Helinar crossed his arms, perplexed by this lower being. The two definitely had some differences; even worse than Psycho and Crest, but at least Psycho liked Crest. He despised this little man of knowledge, and now they were stuck in the middle of a jungle together.

The wreckage of the LAAT/i stretched for a good 50 feet, as it skidded across the ground. The chassis lay smoldering in the dirt, its metal torn and scorched. It was surrounded by more fragments of metal, each warped and jagged from its vicious departure. During the attack, the cockpit had been nailed by grenade, killing the pilot instantly. Gravity took a hold of vessel, tugging it to the ground below. Luckily, they had enough forward momentum to keep them from plummeting straight down, and they crashed at an angle. Nevertheless, the landing, if that’s what it could be called, was rough, and Helinar was lucky he survived as the gunners didn’t.

Psycho scavenged through the wrecking whilst Helinar tried to make sense of where they were. They had brought a map, but it would be useless until they knew where they were on it. Soon, Psycho had located a large container. Opening it up, it contained several packets of InstaMash, a orange powdery substance that could be instantly made just by mixing water. Stuffing a few in his gearpack, he tossed the rest to Helinar, who had seemed to find their location on a map.

“Know where we are yet?” Psycho casually asked between mouthfuls, eating away at some of his InstaMash.

Intently gazing around, he replied, “Judging by the lateral angle of the solar body, time, terrain, and atmospheric conditions, I would say we’re right....here.” He tapped on a green portion of the map. Green for jungle.

“Now, that helps us, but now we need to find the rest of the squad. Where do we meet up?” Suddenly, as if on cue, his radio began to spout out audio feed, though it was mostly jumbled static. However, he could make out a few words.

“Blackjack sq...Vali...uad. ...are to wait...evac. If you have to move, rendezv...rebel main camp. Stalk them, raid...outposts, do whatever...find the camp, but...stay at your LAAT/i if you...stay alive! Do you all cop...”

“There’s your answer,” Helinar blandly added. “So, do we stay at out LAAT/i? Or do we move to the rendez-” He was cut off by a large blaster bolt streaking by his head. The two troopers turned their attention to where it came from, and they were surprised to see a group of dark skinned men firing without thought at them. Startled, Psycho rushed to the LAAT/i grabbing his T-21 blaster along the way. Ducking behind its fuselage, he began to return fire as Helinar rushed to cover.

“There’s your answer,” Psycho cleverly replied, ducking from the incoming fire. “Guess we can’t stay here.”

“Guess not.”

“You lead the way.”

“And you’ll cover me.” For a moment, the two troopers actually understood exactly what the other was thinking.

“Let’s do this.”

With blaster bolts trailing them, the two troopers sped through the forest, intent on their survival. They broke through branches and bushes, dodging trees and jumping streams. The pat-pat of their footsteps echoed through the jungle like an ominous, unstoppable drum. The rebels were right on their tail, releasing a steady stream of gunfire in their direction. The blaster rounds smashed into trees and boulders. Debris and smoke shattered in their wake, alerting the stormtroopers of the imminent danger. Yet, the two continued onward, not about to give up yet.

Psycho, who was an extraordinary sprinter, would normally be yards ahead of his counterpart Helinar, but he knew that the two needed to stick together, and he dropped back to a lower speed. It would be disastrous if the two got seperated. Combat was very difficult solo, and Psycho also didn’t have a map. So because of this, he ran right beside Helinar, giving him an occasional glance. The medic was breathing hard, clearly not used to this much physical labor, but yet, he was moving at a steady pace; the gunfire behind them made sure of that.

Psycho jumped as a blaster bolt skid by his head, smashing into a tree ahead of him.

“Galaxy dammit!” he yelled, fighting the urge to sprint forward and abandon his counterpart. Suddenly, a swell of anger rose up inside of him. Why was it that they needed to run?! Couldn’t they fight back?! “You know what? I’m sick of this! Keep on running, I’ve got this.” Making a final jump behind an oversized tree, he stopped and pulled out his heavy repeating rifle. Resting it on the side of a tree, he aimed in the distance and pulled the trigger. A heavy blaze of blue gunfire rushed from his barrel, spraying the jungle in these dangerous blasts. In the distance he could see the approaching movement of the rebels. They slowed their movement, rethinking charging this ferocious gun. A few of the rushed on forward, only to be slaughtered by Psycho’s shots. Seeing that, the rest of the group came to a complete halt, angrily gazing at Psycho.

“That’s right!” Psycho triumphantly yelled. “Don’t mess with the Vast Empire, rebel scum!” However, the rebels continued to stare at Psycho, but he began to notice that they weren’t staring at him, they were staring past him. Turning around to see what had their attention, Psycho was startled to find a snarling black cat in the tree behind him, its sharp teeth flashing menacingly at Psycho.

Aw frak...

In a quick motion, he brought up his oversized gun, but the cougar took it as a threat, and it had already pounced. Psycho clicked his trigger, but the cat was already upon him. He was knocked backwards into a tree, the vicious animal clawing at his breast plate. Luckily, his armor was strong enough to withstand the attack, but his neck was a vulnerable area. Putting all his energy into his movement, he struck the cat with the butt of his gun, temporarily knocking the creature off of him. Psycho tried to bring his gun up once more, but the cat was quick and had pounced on him again, but this time, Psycho’s gun went hurtling out of his hand. He was defenseless!

The cougar was clawing at him again, trying different locations to see if it could breach his armor. It would only be a matter of time before it would find his neck! He began punching and shoving at the cat, but its stance was firm and it wouldn’t budge. He tried to grab his knife, but it was useless, the animal was on top of his belt. He would have to try harder! Pulling up his legs, he kneed the creature in the back, and it moved to his left side, unaware that this action would lead to its demise. Psycho reached to his belt and grabbed his knife, holding it firmly in his grip. In a jagged move, his thrusted at the cat, his knife sinking through its soft flesh. The creature halted its attack, whimpering and flailing around. Psycho pushed himself up and stabbed at the creature again, this time straight into the heart. It stopped its whimpering as dark blood seeped out of its chest, dripping on the grass below. It had been a tough fight, but Psycho had defeated the creature, and victory was pulsing through his veins.

“Hands up, Stormtrooper.” Turning around, he found a group of rebels, guns aimed at him. Turning around once more, he learned that he was surrounded by these rebels. There would be no escape this time. “I said hands up!” Psycho reluctantly agreed. “Now, Imperial scum. Follow me, and don’t try anything. We won’t be hesitant to shoot you.” He cringed as one of the rebels traded their gun for his. That was his.

As they began to lead him forward, the leader turned around once more and asked, “What was it? ‘Don’t mess with the Vast Empire!’?” He stopped and punched Psycho in his jaw. Pain bolted through his body as he fell to the ground. He spit out bright red blood. “Well, don’t mess with us, you Imperial scum!” With that, they yanked him back up, and continued onward, but little did they know that someone was stalking them...

HammerHead hid behind a tree as the group of rebels walked by. He slowly, turned his head around the tree, until he got a clear view of the enemy. There was about 5 of them, and they were decently armed. There was something odd about them though; even though they were supposed to be going low tech, the rebels seemed loaded down with packs of what appeared to be survival gear. Why would they be hiking around in the woods all the way over here. Their base is at least 100 miles away. Then it hit him, they were looking for the crash.

Before he could even signal V, one of the officers started to speak.

"Alright men, we are extremely close to the crash site. Now, we have no clue how many of those Empire scum survived so we must be cautious. This is the real deal, so no one be a hero. One last thing, we may be a search and destroy squad, but most of you are recruits. Alright, weapons free. LET'S DO THIS!"

"SIR YES SIR." The rebels echoed in response.

HammerHead slid down the tree trunk and crouched next to V55.
"We have to avoid them, if they are supposed to search for us, they will be able to follow our tracks, so let's go around. Don't make any foolhardy decisions."

Slowly but surely, the pair moved around they group of rebels. They were almost out of trouble when V accidentally stepped on a fallen branch. The last of the rebels shot around gun trained V's direction. He quickly unsheathed hid knife and through it at V missing by a hair, but causing V to make more noise. "Run!" HammerHead shouted lifting his E-11 heavy.

HammerHead shot the rebel square in the chest which got the attention of the rest of the rebels. Running backwards and firing at the small group of enemies behind him. Velius was running far ahead of HammerHead, when he stopped. V set up a position behind a fallen tree and began to open fire upon the remaining rebels, causing them to stop to and take cover. HammerHead then jumped behind the fallen log and took aim at his remaining enemies.

It took one shot from HammerHead heavy E-11 to blow a tree, and the soldier behind, it in half. Even though his E-11 was chopping down everything in its path, some rebels were still alive, and were able to launch a fierce counter attack. As HammerHead pulled out his DC-15 pistol, Velius pulled a thermal detonator out of his pack.

"DUCK!" He shouted.

V through the ball straight into the center of the enemy position before it detonated. After the blast HammerHead jumped over the log and headed over to the group. Each of them had enough survival supplies for at least two weeks, a multi-tool, and a small slug thrower. While walking through the carnage, HammerHead saw a comlink on the ground and picked it up. He heard the receiving end of a transmition.

"Lethon...Lethon can you hear me? Did you find the crash site, were there any survivors? Come on, we need some info from those Imperials. We need to know if we are being attacked. Lethon...Lethon...Lethon!"

V walked up and handed HammerHead a heavy metal box. "I found this on and officer." When Hammerhead opened it, he found a long serrated knife, a few medals, and a pair of revolving slug throwers with a few spare rounds.

"Here, take these." HammerHead handed Velius the serrated knife, and one of the revolvers.

HammerHead saw that the gurillas had left tracks in the dirt. He quickly scaled a tree, and noticed that these tracks went on for at least 100 yards. He decided that following these was the best bet of finding were the rebel base was. He thought for a minute, and realized that they were far more likely to find the encampment of the partols not the base.

"We can see there tracks so we should head for the rebel encampment. If we find it we have to avoid it. Do you have any objections?"

OOC:

I fixed it, so no I feel warm and fuzzy inside.

The pestilent fly buzzed around his head.

“You sure I can’t shoot it, Aquila?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Stop being a child, Crest.”

“But that’s what makes this fun!”

“It’s also annoying! Stop it!”

“Awww, did I annoy somebody?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“For the last time, no.”

“Ouch. You hurt my ears.”

“Did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Crest was on the verge bursting out in laughter. Aquila, on the other hand, was less than pleased.

“Take a bit of humor. It’ll do you good.”

“I’ll take humor when it’s good.”

“But it was good!”

“Was not.”

“Was.”

“WAS NOT!”

Crest’s mood shifted from light to dark in a millisecond.

“Do you want to alert every rebel in the entire jungle? Don’t yell, woman.”

“So I’m a ‘woman’ now, is it?!”

“If you’re going to act like one, yes!”

Aquila pulled her hand backed and punched Crest into the torso. While the plates of the armor prevented it from being a penetrating hit, Crest was knocked onto his back. Crest, knowing he was horrible in close-combat, rolled with the punch, taking him out of range from Aquila’s fists.

“Scared, you Corporal? You high, mighty, and annoying Corporal! Scared?”

Crest instinctively went for his sniper rifle, before thinking better of it. One shot with the sniper rifle would result, at least, in an amputation of the limb that Crest would fire into. A shot to the torso would be deadly, without immediate and advanced medical care. The head would be irreparable... Crest went for the M66-SD. In a crouch, he stood impassively, waiting in anticipation.

“Aquila, stand down.”

“Hmph.”

“I order you, Lance Corporal!”

“I’ll obey you again once I’ve taught you a lesson.”

Crest’s heart pounded. It would be next to impossible to move and make the rendezvous with Valthir and Drake with a wounded person. Not to mention, Aquila might even become more hostile. It was inevitable that his mind would come to the worst-case scenario.

He might have to execute her.

Crest waited and watched. Aquila stepped forward, closing the distance between Crest and herself... before a net arced up from the ground and shot her up into the sky

Crest was utterly stunned at this sudden turn of events, but in some part of his mind, he knew what needed to be done. Slipping around the trunk of the tree behind him, he began carving footholds into the tree using his dagger. It would have been easier with an axe, but, even though the dagger was never made to cut into wood, he made progress, albeit very slowly. It took time, time that could have been otherwise been used for good effect traversing the jungle. The climb was hard, near impossible, but only near impossible. Whatever Aquila had done, she had done in the heat of anger; he could forgive it. Right now, they needed to move before the rebels came back to check their trap. In more immediate terms, he needed to get to the top, carefully carving out hand and footholds.

Idiotic girl. If she had just kept a cool head... Heh. She may or may not change when I’m done with her, but I’ve got a fairly good idea that I’ll come out of this with a horrible view on women.

An hour of painful climbing later, Crest reached approximately Aquila’s level. She was quiet, curled up in a ball (mainly because the net would only allow her to curl up into a ball), probably in remorse of her behavior, thinking that Crest had probably left her. Now, thinking back on it, Crest should have probably told her what he was about to do. He started inching around the tree trunk, being careful not to slip.

As he finally came around the tree, the net started lowering. Looking down, Crest noticed what he had been missing, presumably for a long time. A group of rebels stood there, keeping their rifles trained on the descending trap.

Could you cursed rebels come not an hour earlier? Ya know, maybe so I wouldn’t have had to climb a bloody tree!

As the net hit the ground, one of the rebels came forward with a syringe and injected something into the curled figure inside. When the net was cut open, Aquila was sprawled, completely limp.

There was no way Crest could have shot a pistol, let alone a rifle, and he could not descend in fear of alerting the rebels and becoming extremely easy target practice. He watched in agony as Aquila was binded and the rebels began to move.

This was going to be a long night of hunting.

OOC:

Not uber-ish long as I had expected, but sets the stage nicely for my next post.

Given their northward velocity of eight kilometer per hour, their lack of eastward direction, and the impassable gorge they’re about to come up upon, I’d give them 8 hours to make it back to their main camp. Now, factoring in the terrain change, it might take a few more hours, or if they’re moving to a different camp, a few less. That gives me around eight hours to kill all of them, but how am I going to do it? Clearly, they outnumber me, giving me a 1 in 12,644.723 chance of defeating them by direct confrontation. However, if I take out one by one, that gives me a 1 in 26.77778 chance of survival, that is, if I can hurry back to cover in time. I could also improvise in the moment, perhaps using the terrain to my advantage, or maybe the fauna. I’ll also have to stalk them. Clearly I am no expert, but the jungle is usually noisy, and any movement or noise that I make can be justified by the animals here. Alright, Brock, you can do this, and just remember, this is for Psycho. For him and his stupidity.

The jungle. A hot, moist, humid, inescapable forest of dangerous beasts and exotic plants. Helinar stood in the middle of it. A hot, green tinted sun ferociously beat down upon his armor, cooking his delicate skin inside. The ever present humidity made the temperature even worse, and his skin stuck to his sweat drenched outfit. It was uncomfortable at the least, but he continued to trample through the terrain. The jungle noises radiated around him. Animals screeching, insects buzzing, birds chirping. He lifted his head up, gazing at the canopy far above. A furry creature jumped from one branch to another, crying out some high pitch squeal. Helinar instantly recognized it as the Greenfoot Monkey, a species that was very unfond of humans, but loved honey. Just one of the millions of unique creatures that lived on this planet.

His attention returned back to his tracking, following the path of trampled grass that marked the presence of the rebel group. He had been following it for an hour now, trying to get his friend Psycho back. He calculated that they were five hundred meters away, and he didn’t want to follow them too closely. His plan was to wait until he had an opportunity, then we would try and kill one of them. He would continue this, one at a time, until he thought he could attack directly. He did, after all, have eight hours.

Helinar followed the tracks for twenty more minutes, taking in his surroundings as he went. As he progressed further and further, he saw more creatures of the jungle. Beetles, strange lizards, and a large flying bird that sat up in the canopy. It seemed to be twice the size of Helinar and it displayed at large set of fangs.

I thought birds didn’t have fangs...

Suddenly, he halted. Up ahead, he could see the vague movement of the rebels. They had stopped for a break. It was an opportunity Helinar couldn’t afford to miss, but how was he going to take out the rebels? He was outnumbered, and any fire fight he started he wouldn’t be able to finish. As he thought, the sound of bees crept into his ears. He looked up into the trees. Maybe only 20 feet in the air, was a beehive, positioned straight above the rebel group. Above that, a group of Greenfoot Monkeys, jumping around the trees.

An idea entered his though. A brilliant idea.



The rebels hadn’t treated Psycho too well. When he stumbled and slowed, they would hit him, making his stumble more and more. He learned not to talk, as any talking would result in him being beaten, and talking took the energy out of his body. Currently, he sat with his captors. They all leaned against trees, and quietly talked to one another. A few nibbled on some food, and some others drank water, none of which Psycho was allowed to have. Seeing them gorge on the food was slightly tortuous. He was hungry and tired, and most of all dehydrated. If they were to keep treating him like this, they would have no prisoner.

A buzzing noise caught his attention. He looked directly upward to see a bee hive, moving slightly with a breeze. Tiny black dots darted around it, buzzing to and fro. At first he thought nothing of it, but then something extraordinary happened. A red blaster bolt streaked upward, its origin unknown. It smashed into the beehive, sending smoke and debris scattered about. The beehive, losing its attachment, began its long descent downward, crashing at the jungle floor. It a moment of confusion and slight terror, the bees and sprung about, stinging anything they could find. Psycho thrashed about with his arms. It was like a million tiny needle jabs. The rebels were doing the same. They abandoned their food and supplies, and darted about, doing anything to get away from the hive. However, that was only the beginning. Next came the monkeys.

Only a moment after the beehive fell, seven, maybe ten monkeys jumped from the trees, intent on the honey. Instead of ignoring the humans, as most species would, they displayed their fangs, hoarsely growling, but the rebels were too busy with their bee problem. The monkeys attacked. They jumped on the rebels, biting them and clawing them. The area became even more chaotic with the monkey attack. Psycho thrown in the middle. During all of this, he managed to work his way from the group, intent on escaping. He had even grabbed an abandoned rifle. A very crude rifle at that. But suddenly, as he darted his way through the trees, he was grabbed by something. Not a rebel, not an animal. It was Helinar.

Shock and surprise poured into Psycho, but he displayed a wide grin, showing his affection for the man.

“Frak, Helinar!” Psycho blurted out, “I didn’t think I would see you here!”

“No time for this,” the doctor replied, “We’ve got some rebels to kill.”

Velius sat silently on a large rock above his and Hammerheads camp, starring into the sleeping jungle. Velius had relived Hammerhead of his duties a 1AM and now it was 2, which meant one thing. One hour of complete boredom for Velius. One hour of nothing, nothing but blackness and shinning stars. Velius didn't mind it much, he liked being alone, able to think without the distractions of the world, but this was to much. Another hour past and still nothing happened, not that Velius wanted anything to happen. It was just that he was very lonely, not to say bored. A small animal shrieked in the distance, this made Velius heart speed up for a few second s then slow back down.

It's not anything "exciting", Velius thought to himself, It's just a poor little animal getting brutally murdered for the sake of another animal, or animals. Velius exhaled his breath with more force than necessary, making his helmets visor fog up. Velius white eyes strained to see through the thousand of small water droplets that had condensed on his visor. Velius removed his helmet and wiped the visor, then set in on the rock next to him. Another small shriek echoed through the woods, seeming closer to Velius and Hammerheads camp. I hope what ever that is doesn't make its way to our camp. That might be too much excitement. Velius rolled his eyes, annoyed at the fact that he was being sarcastic. I really need to stop doing that; people aren't going to think it's funny. Velius sighed and once again looked over the dark expanse of the jungle. Just then he realized that he should start to pack for the morning. It was a good idea and it would pass the time more quickly. So Velius slowly climbed down the side of the rock he was sitting on. From here he made his way to his tent where he slowly and quietly took it down and put it into his bag. As he was finishing with assorting his gear, Velius heard once more shriek of a small animal being killed and this time it was close. Velius quietly picked up his E-11 and crept to behind the large rock above the camp. Muffled growls and the sound of ripping flesh could be heard form the other side of the boulder. Velius could feel his heart rate sky rocket has he crouched behind the rock. Torn between two decisions, one was to peer around the boulder and engage the creatures that lay beyond and the other was for Velius to slowly make his way back to camp where he could wake up Hammerhead and decide what to do from there. After a painfully long minute Velius decided to make his way back to Hammerhead and tell him about their situation, but just before he reached half way back to the camp a classic event happened, Velius stepped on a large branch that snapped. As the branch snapped a terrifically loud sound emitted from it which seemed to shake the entire jungle. OH dear god, tell me this isn't happening. Velius turned his head to find three spear shaped heads starring at his from the sides of the boulder. Their eyes glinted red in the moon light and Velius could see that their mouths were lined with a large amount of sleek white teeth.

A small sound escaped Velius lips as he slowly rose from the ground. One of the large beast growled and suddenly jumped forwards, sending Velius into a full sprint down the hill. As he was running he could see Hammerhead emerging from his tent.

"Get your gear, we have get the hell out of here!" Velius cried as entered their small camp.

Hammerheads eyes widened as he saw the great creatures running down the hill. "Those are Nexu, but I've never seen more than one together ever." Hammerhead cried as he raised his heavy rifle to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger, releasing a shower of shots upon the on coming Nexu. The Nexu however seemed unfazed by the shots and continued to charge full speed at the two frantic soldiers. 

"What are we going to do?" Hammerhead asked Velius as he unleashed another wave of shots onto the oncoming Nexu.

"I have the slightest idea!" Velius replied as he tossed Hammerhead his bag. "Your gonna need this." Hammerhead nodded and quickly slung his bag on his back like Velius. A second later the head Nexu pounced right in between the two, followed by the other two Nexu who flanked Hammerhead and Velius. All three Nexu growled, barring their razor sharp teeth.

"What are we going to do?" Velius asked, all the blood had drained from his face.

"I don't know, these beasts are good in almost all terrains so climbing trees wont work."

"Well, I say we run."

"We can't out run these things!"

"I doubt we'll do any better if we just stay here!"

The Nexues growled impatiently as they slowly closed the gaps between them and the troopers. The middle Nexus inched closer to Hammerhead, leaving Velius with only one on him.

"I think I agree with you on the running now." Hammerhead stuttered as he slowly walked backwards, his rifle trained on the Nexu closest to him.

"Ok, lets go in different. We'll try to loss them." Velius turned to Hammerhead. "See you soon."

Velius spun himself around, using the weighted momentum of his backpack to spin him around faster, he shot from his standing place into a dead run. The of the massive paws of the Nexu hitting the ground were he was just standing only made him run faster. Small trees and place flashed by Velius eyes as he ran, jumping over logs and rocks, the grunts of a huge beast forcing his legs to move at full speed. Pain clawed at his chest, trying to overwhelm Velius. Move legs, move! Don't give out on me now. The visor of Velius helmet fogged, making it nearly impossible for the outside world to be seen from within. Everything turned into a blur. The sound of Velius heart pounded in his ears. Velius eyes widened, the outside world went black, and the sound of blasters echoed in the jungle. Two hands hoisted Velius up and through the fog, a dirty face appeared.

"Look what we have here boys, look what we have here."

OOC:

Sorry for any errors, I am not that good at revising.
I have been captured by rebels and separated from Hammerhead.

Velius body lay limp on the cold cement floor of the holding cell. His eyes closed tight to block the outside world. Bruises littered his bare body like berries on a bush. A small barred window above his head allowed minimal light into the dark room. A rat skittered across the floor in front of Velius, slowly stealing bits of bread from a plate sitting alone on the floor. As Velius raised his head off the floor, pain shot through every bone in his body, allowing an agonized grown to escape. The rat vacated the primacies as the grown echoed in the small room.

"Shut up in there, people are trying to sleep." A familiar face looked through the barred door at Velius. In the dull light Velius could see that the man talking was the same man who had taken him captive. His eyes glowed in the light of the small electric light on the wall. "You dirty Imperial, if it weren't for orders for the Commander I'd of let the Nexu rip your body to shreds." The rebel spit at Velius and grinned an evil grin, "So now I get to watch you rot to death in here. Documenting your slow decent into hell." The man through his head back and laughed and Velius could feel his anger grow to an extent that had never been reached.

"I will get out." Velius growled in a low voice, “AND I WILL KILL YOU!" Velius lunged at the bars only to find more pain from the shackles around his wrists and ankles. Another grown of pain escaped from Velius lips.

"Ha, I'd like to see you try." The rebel laughed again and walked away, continuing to laugh until his laughter faded back into silence. Velius lay back down, he could feel streams of warm blood roll down his ankles. Velius closed his eyes and tried to imagine something happy. His home, his family, old mister Retouro, but then his thoughts changed to bad things. The split second before Velius caught Retouro as he fell, his experience in the woods alone with the Cistox, the scar one his hand, and his lonely, friendless child hood. The thought of death began to torture Velius, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live, to become an amazing person, a person who could accomplish things, but most of all , he just didn't want to die. My squad won't let me die in here, they will come and find me. Yes, I need to think positive. I need to stay strong. I can't let myself embrace the thought of death, I need to fight it. Velius slowly raised himself into a sitting position with his back on the wall. The sound of rain slowly filled the little cell as the room grow slowly darker. Small drops of rain made their way through the window and onto Velius head. Velius frowned, Why did the rebels have to make base in this expansive jungle. They could have just made it on some island and we could have eliminated it from afar or a aquatic attack.Ya, that would have made this easier. Velius sighed and rested his head against the wall with two things battling for control of his mind. One, wait for help to arrive and two..... escape.

OOC:

This gives a small about of info on Velius and tells the state he's in after his capture. Any errors, PM me.

Velius had completely lost track of time in his weak and disoriented state. Some days it would rain, some it would not. On some days the company of the rats would keep Velius from sleeping. The rats would huddle around the small tin plate that usually sat on the floor in front of Velius. Picking at the carcases of half eaten food and starring at Velius crumpled up on the floor. His body slowly healing from the harsh treatment of the guards on his first few days, but his body was not only healing, it was getting stronger too. Late at night, when the guards were lazy and tired, wanting only to wrap themselves in the warmth of their cots, Velius would do simple exercise to keep his body in a far state. These exercise started off small, things like push ups, but not a lot. Then they moved to things involving more of his body. At one point a pitiful guard decided that Velius in his weak state would not be a threat to anyone so he removed his shackles, giving Velius the ability to move freely about his cell. When guards where around, Velius made himself look weak and feeble. Moving very little when the tin plate of food was placed in the cell then scarfing it down when the guards backs were turned. As the days progressed, Velius became closer to his usual self. After days of closed containment in the small cement cell, Velius decided it was time for him to make a move. It was time for him to escape.

    Velius sat with his back against the wall, drops of water falling through the grate above his head onto his bare back. As he flexed his arms, they bulged with redeveloped muscles. A smile slowly made it's way across his face. The evening guard will be here any minute with my dinner. I know he's the only one here at this hour so I'll make my escape now. The plan Velius had devised flashed through his head like a childhood movie. Velius sits on the floor, displaying sighs of weakness. Guard walks in carrying plate of food. Velius quickly lunges at the guard, taking advantage of his fraction of a second of astonishment to bash his neck which may either kill him or hopefully render his voice useless, giving Velius a chance to quickly execute him. The rest of the plan was fairly simple, find Velius stuff, and make his way into the jungle. A knot formed in Velius stomach as he thought of what would happen if his plan went wrong. Stop, don't think negative, think positive. Velius let out a sigh right as the sound of foot steps filled the hall way. Being quick, Velius made him self look weak and tired while also trying to get himself in a good position to quickly attack the guard. The sound of the cell door opening told Velius that the guard had entered the cell. He slowly opened his eyes and checked to see if the guard was alone, he was. As the guard began to place the plate of food on the ground it seemed as time slowed down. Velius pushed off the ground with all his leg strength, sending him flying into the guard. The guard's eyes widened as Velius wrapped his arms around the man's torso, pushing him back onto the floor. Velius pulled his arm back and with all his  strength and anger, he thrust his elbow into the man's neck. The man's eyes seemed to burst out of his head as the man had a quick spasm on the floor before going lifeless. Velius stood up and pulled the drag doll  corpse of the guard into the cell. He quickly undressed the man and dressed himself in his uniform. It was a little big for Velius but it fit. Velius tied a bandana from the man's out fit around his face to try and hide it as he briskly walked away from the cell. As he was just about to exit the prison building, he noticed a crate by the door labeled Imperial Crap. Upon opening the crate, Velius found all his stuff, blaster, armor, bag. A grin plastered Velius covered face as he put the lid back on the crate and picked it up, Well that was easy!. 

    The prison building was a small building at the edge of a ring of other buildings. A gate lay straight across from the entrance of the prison but Velius thought that this may bring to much attention to himself so he quickly looked for another way out. Al ow wooden walls surrounded the entire base so Velius decide climbing over a section would probably be best. Looking around, he saw a perfect place. It was right behind a fairly a large building that would make it hard for anyone to see what was going on. Velius started to quickly walk over until he realized that a guard was walking over to him. 

    “Hey, you. What are you doing with the prisoners things?” The guard stopped a foot in front of Velius. No expression could be seen on his plain looking face.

“Well I was told to put them over there,” Velius placed the crate on the ground and pointed to the large building where he was going to climb over the fence.

“Why would you put it behind the dinning hall?” The guard asked. Velius suddenly felt paranoid, what am I going to tell him! Velius searched his mind for one reason why you would put a crate of armor and guns behind a dinning hall and then it came to him. 

“My CO Thought it would be a good idea to put them there so in case the prisoner escaped. That way he wouldn't be able to find his things.” The guard went silent for a minute then asked another bad question.

“Ok, tell me the name of your CO and I'll go ask him.” Velius began to sweat, a name, a name, whats a name I could use. Velius tried to remember the name of horrible man who had captured him. It had looked as if he was in a position of power. Fre... Fredy... Freddy Gomez, thats it.

“My CO's name is Freddy, Freddy Gomez.” Velius waited, hoping only that the man believe him. The guard sighed,

“Why is Freddy so obsessed with the prisoner! It's really starting to get on peoples nerves. Ok, you take that crate to the dinning hall, sorry to bother you.” He guard turned around and walked way, grumbling something about stupid orders. Velius stood there, astonished that that had worked, then he realized that he was in the clear. Joy filled his body as he ran behind the dinning hall and with a quick glance left and right, he tossed the crate over the fence. Then he climbed over the fence  himself and picked the crate  back up. Glancing again, to see if there were any guards outside the fence, Velius sprinted into the jungle, leaving his painful stay at the camp behind. 

OOC:

Sorry if this is a little unbelievable but Velius is now free!