DT-7343 "Jabber"

[Corric Tassadar]

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>Welcome Director. Accessing Files Now. . .​

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UNIT RECORD BEGINS​

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Designation: DT-7343
Alias: "Jabber"
Allegiance: Galactic Empire
Galactic Empire Branch: IOSC
Military Branch: Death Trooper Command
Military Rank: Butter Bars Lieutenant
Current Unit Assignment: TBA
Species: Human
Age: 24
Sex: Male
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 150lbs
Status: ACTIVE
Years of Service: 6
Force Sensitivity: NEGATIVE



Psychological Assessment
DT-7343 entered service 6 years ago, showing troubling signs of rebellion despite his birth of origin. During boot camp Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Hawker has made several notes regarding DT-7343's supernatural ability to avoid working parties; DT-7343 has spent a collective of three hundred hours in the guard room under the supervision of Provost Sergeant Naoyokas for several offenses, including but not limited to: Misappropriating military hardware which resulted in the near destruction of the Instructor barracks, insulting several drill instructors, inciting a cadet brawl resulting in three injuries among other offenses. Despite his many misdemeanors DT-7343 has shown other potential officer qualities as evident in his training squad scores; cadets assigned to DT-7343's squad also shows remarkable improvement in teamwork, firing range scores and demonstrates better interpersonal skills. Further psychological assessment shows DT-7343's independent nature and strong sense of initiative- Tactics Instructor Koller notes 7343's preference for aggressive maneuvers though makes further notes in his indifference to civilian casualties. When taking the 16P test, he identifies as an ENTJ individual, which should come to no surprise given his affinity with improving other people's performance when within proximity.

Deployment History

• 17th Division, 8th Scout Trooper Battalion, Dog Company: 3 year(s)
• 501st Division, 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, Alpha Company: 2 year(s)
• Death Trooper Command: 1 year(s)

Abilities

• DT-7343's assignment as scout trooper was not a random selection but rather as a result of his capable tracking and evasion skills. In all of his simulation training 7343 has shown great ability in avoiding capture and has on several occasions, disrupted the training process by hunting the instructors. Whilst not appreciated by his victims, it is exactly this kind of hunter instinct that Command appreciates in a scout trooper.
• Jabber's leadership qualities make him a strong asset in any team. If it was not clear in his psychological assessment, DT-7343's mentoring has produced able troopers out of what otherwise would have been boot camp drop outs. On the field, his attentiveness on his teammates mental and emotional stability keeps his team operational for longer periods of time, a particularly useful trait when deployed behind enemy lines.
• 43's greatest combat talent lies in his close-quarters martial ability, coinciding greatly with his previous roles as a point man. Though not the strongest trooper within his ranks, Trooper Corric makes effective use of his surroundings to make up for any shortcomings. Along with a near-feral instinct for aggression, 43 makes for a formidable opponent. Despite his obvious preference for hand-to-hand, DT-7343 does not lack in the firing range.

Liabilities

• DT-7343 has repeatedly showed rebellious nature on the field, unbefitting of a professional storm trooper. On a manageable level, '43 is capable of independence and working on his own; aggregated, and '43 walks a thin line of going rogue. Due to this, command pays very close attention to the trooper's habits and eccentricities in order to curb any unwanted development. This has however, affected his off-duty life and budding signs of frustration are beginning to appear.
• Extremely conversational, 343 is a creature of social habits, requiring interaction with other peers to increase his combat effectiveness. Unfortunately on the field where operational silence is often an unspoken rule, 43 has a bad habit of breaking the silence. Signs of insubordination are being further analyzed by the psychology team however for the time being, Command has seen fit to allow minor transgression to pass, so long as his combat effectiveness remains at its peak.

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END OF RECORDS​​​

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OOC​

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Cipher: Double Transposition
First Key: GORGON
Second Key: TERROR

Face Claim: Rami Malek

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[Corric Tassadar]

Time: Six Years Ago
Location: REDACTED
Unit: REDACTED
Mission: REDACTED
Objective: REDACTED

"Gambler One to all Gambler Units, report. Over."

"Gambler Two, all clear. Over."

"Gambler Three, all clear. Over."

"Gambler Four, all clear. Over."

"Gambler Five, I've got a problem. Over."

"Gambler Five, please clarify your problem. Over."

"Yeah, I forgot to turn off the gas pipe back home Gambler One, might need someone to check on that. Over."

There was a collective sigh in the radio channel as a scout trooper slowly climbed down from one of the mangrove trees, stepping upon springy limbs that threatened to break. Similar figures emerged from their own respective hiding holes, their camouflaged armor caked in mud; few went the extra mile to attach small pieces of the local flora to break their outline, although Gambler Five certainly outdid himself, having weaved a small honcho from dried weeds.

"Gambler Five, please restrict the team radio channel for matters relevant to our current objective. I repeat, Gambler Five, do you have any problems? Over."

The offending trooper shrugged. "Gambler F-"

"Gambler Five reports no problems, over."

The unit fell to a more relaxed stance- as relaxed as one could be in a war zone. They were stormtroopers, and though not assigned to the 501st had a reputation to protect. The squad leader stepped forth and quickly motioned for the team to move out to their next objective. Nobody was in any mood to joke around, except DT-7343: they had marched for three days across the god forsaken swamp, barely finding purchase in the mud and slime. The hot and humid temperature had defeated their armor's temperature regulator system on the first day, and many had chosen to strip down to their bare essentials: chest piece, helmet and boots.

Nobody argued, nobody complained: they had a job to do, and nobody joined because it was easy.

The five man team silently battled their way through the ever-thickening swamp, the hooded trooper leading the way and clearing a path with his machete. Twenty miles behind the frontlines, even Corric had to respect the rules of the jungle despite his growing need to crack a joke or two.

It was late in the noon when they finally found a small rise in the ground, leading to a hill. It was the first patch of dry land that the team had encountered for a very long time. The usual tense air broke down as one or two chuckled at their fortune; Gambler One silenced the good mood with a quick slash motion across his throat. Just like that, the silence returned as the fire team hastily hiked up the hill, Gambler Three lagging behind with a large metal box strapped to his back. The hill wasn't the highest the troopers had trampled, but it was clear of overhead obstruction like trees and more importantly was firm enough for Gambler Three's ordnance.

When they found a suitable patch of dry land, Three and Four separated from the group; Four carried a larger pack than the rest of the unit, bulging with plenty of goodies One, Two and Five would never see as they kept marching past the hill. Their objective was much, much further away.

The sky was a dark shade of orange by the time the trio had reached their destination: a working radio station, its construction ancient but serviceable. The presence of Republic soldiers manning the mounted heavy blaster on the roof made it evident. As far as the strike team was informed, this was a relay boosting station.

It was all the information they needed as the three man team spread out to surround the station, submerging themselves with the muddy waters and darting underneath the surface.

"Gambler Five, call it in."

"Gambler Four, this is Gambler Five on 51 requesting fire mission, over."

"This is Gambler Four, go ahead, Gambler Five."

"Fire mission as follows: target is on grid 8734 0719, target altitude is 66 meters. Twelve rounds, HE. Break"

"Target will not be marked. Break."

"Target is an enemy-held compound in the wood line. Fire for effect, over."

"Fire mission on grid 8734 0719, altitude 66 metes. Twelve rounds, HE on enemy compound, copy. Watch your heads."

The swamp was an ecosystem home to several hundreds of animal species that can never be found anywhere else outside of its biome, but that didn't matter when all hell broke loose; the first explosion tore the compound apart. Shrapnel flew everywhere, slicing the jugular of the mounted gunner moments before the second explosion removed the heavy blaster from the roof permanently.

It was a symphony of destruction and chaos ripped apart the sturdy apartment piece by piece- even cowering within the safety of the building was no guarantee: shrapnel has a nasty way of appearing from unexpected areas.

When all was said and done, what remained of the compound was the broken remain of the main building, craters a foot deep everywhere and most importantly, nothing that could threaten the three shadowy figures as they emerged from the tree line. Barrels swiveling nervously, the troopers swept the area clear of survivors. Any body still intact from the heavy shelling took a few blaster bolts to be safe- nobody was taking any chances.

When DT-7343 entered the building he nearly gagged: the 81mm mortar had turned the inside into an abattoir. Still, he had a duty to do. The second storey was no better but it had the objective- the console was ruined, sparks flashing and the protective covers ripped apart by the shock wave.

Dropping his pack, Corric pulled out a sticky block and melded it with the trashed electronic equipment and set the fuse. When all was set and done, he calmly stood up.

Retrieved his pack, collected his team mates.

And then ran away.

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TO BE CONTINUED. . .

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