Invasion Hope Never Dies | GA Invasion of TSE held Ziost and Tiss'Sharl

[Alina Tremiru]

Objective: Destroy the Light Side Nexus
Location: Aboard her Lumiya Class Interceptor
Equipment: See Sig
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Darth Strosius | Saket Keane | Aaran Tafo | Auteme | Okkeus Dainlei | Kisaku Oroken

"The talker. A good term for him." Alina let herself chuckle under her breath as she watched Saket round the corner with Alisteri. She turned on a heel as the Jedi passively ducked under her blade. Figured he'd so easily recognize her. The young Knight certainly wouldn't forget him. Not after their last fight together. She took Saket's words to heart though and rushed forward. Using the polearm's length she swung for Aaron's legs while staying out of the way of her fellow Sith.

They needed to take him down quickly if they wanted to get to their main objective before getting overwhelmed by Jedi.

 

[Sith Dominance]

Objective: Decimate the Frontlines
Location: Aboard the Behemoth II, in atmosphere above New Adasta.
Allies: TSE
Support: AT-HA Formations | Talon Class Gunship | Vindican Class Transport Squadrons | Imperial Legionnaire | SI - MCTT | Warblade Repulsortank | OMYN Battle Droids
Enemies: NIO / GA
Tags: Valen | Cotan Sar'andor | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Captain Raith | Irveric Tavlar | Tulan Kor | Maynard Treicolt | Willan Tal | Zirell Marxon | Kal Ostan | Arcturus Tal | Teica Giraan

The Major could only watch as the heavy fire decimated the landscape. Had it not been for the report of ships coming in with the civilian population they could recover, he'd never believe there were survivors. No, wait. There were conflicting reports now. The spaceport? Armtre had only just overhead it before he stormed over to the man on the com.

"::Civilians held in the Spaceport. Unable to escape as planned. Caught in bombardment.::"

He felt sick to his stomach. This bombardment was already at a level he wasn't comfortable with. But, to know that the Galactic Alliance went so far as to try and hold the city hostage to stop such a thing? Or, worse, use it as a way to instill that the Empire were monsters? Who really was the monster? He dropped the com and stepped up to the main overlook.

The Admiral stood, overseeing through a mixture of screens and just looking out the window the battlefield ongoing. There were already more problems to deal with than the repercussions of the orbital bombardment. The Chiss woman turned her red gaze to the Major and spoke in a cold voice.

"You have your orders, Major Armtre. See to it what's left of the ground is secure." She stepped past the man, head held high as she started to address the crew with new orders. The bombardment turned upwards as the Behemoth's shield started to feel the impact of the enemy ships. "They turned their back on the rest of the fleet in anger for what has happened. Capitalize on that. All cannons, target their incoming vessels. Blow them out of the sky."

Not just the Behemoth's cannons turned on the incoming ships, but the frigates and star destroyers who were disengaged from.

"Admiral! They're targeting our engines!" No sooner was that spoken than the alarms went off. "Significant damage to the left engine! It's offline!"

"We have no plans to move from where we are until we're finished. Open fire." The green streaks of light that had pounded the earth now turned upwards, greeting the incoming ships in a sandwich of turbolaser bombardment.

Major Armtre moved into the hanger where the rest of the 67th Legion laid in wait. Countless soldiers all preparing for what they'd see when they went down to the surface. He said nothing as he passed through them towards his own landing craft. Not until he reached it. "Let's make sure this was worth that blood." It was all he said into the com in all the Legionnaires helms. All at once they started to board their landers. The base of the Behemoth opened as the Legion descended onto the decimated surface.

They were determined to make sure Zoist would never again see the New Imperials or Galactic Alliance holed up like rats on their worlds.​

 

[The Amalgam]

The Nuetralizer squads hadn't been prepared for the Orbital Bombardment. The impacts had damaged most of their weapons and targeting systems, yet still they had attempted to complete their mission.

Yet DECEASED Erskine Barran had managed to snatch life from the jaws of certain death regardless shooting some and slicing apart or stabbing others.

But he hadn't been thorough. Not nearly thorough enough with some of them.

Martin for example, had gotten riddled with LMG bullets and had indeed shut down...

But Martin was a Nuetralizer .

And Nuetralizers were difficult to destroy...permanently, anyway.

The Laminanium nanites, which all Nuetralizers were supplied with, began restoring critical systems. Martin, and Isacc, left in the grime and mud were the first to rise, though still heavily damaged. A few more rose.

Martin still had his bandana. Erskine had fled the scene, but Martin had his DNA trail ever since he found traces of it on Billy and Jimmy at Generis.

Martin felt the stirrings of genuine rage for the first time in its electronic life, as it got out is Com-Link.

"Apone, Skipper, talk to me..." Martin whispered. "Are you still mission capable?"

"We made it sir..." Apone answered, though the Right arm was missing as he stared at the vast sewer system that spread into a massive broken off cavity that was filled with something in the air. Skipper was behind him, lugging the thermal detonators. "Old sewer systems just barely withstood it. Sir...I think I figured out why they sealed it off."

"Go on...Soldier..." Martin whispered, testing out his walking and targeting systems as he stayed behind cover, looking for a repair kit in the wreckage of the mechanized units...

"There's a gas pocket here, sir. A massive one. Big as a fething stadium. What the hell happened up there?"

"The Sith had their own ideas about how to hold Ziost...had another run in with Barran. He was in a hurry...wasn't as thorough as he was with my buddies in the jungle..." Martin hissed, skeletal hands, one of which was missing a finger, clenching in rage. "We're pretty messed up out here...did any other Nuetralizers in the city survive the Bombardment?"

"Lost thirty five percent of our squads. Other squads reporting in heavily damaged..." Apone said. "Boogie-Man squad is closest to your position."

Martin processed this a moment as his main power source was finally repaired. He picked up some chunks of material turned to carbon and stored them in a compartment in his chassis for the Nanites he was supplied with to feed off of as they made repairs.

"Any Sisters in the field?" Martin asked.

"One. She survived the Bombardment. Been mimicking enemy Stormtroopers to get in their squads and slay them. Half a Kilometer from your position..."

"Deploy her. And tell her not to get close to the Bastard if she can possibly help it. Tell her to just shoot him on sight, with the biggest fething gun she can find!" Martin ordered. "Now...this gas pocket...natural?"

"Yes...and HIGHLY Flammable and explosive. Bacterial deposits are the most likely source, building up slowly over the centuries...scans never caught it...or the small fault line..." Apone said.

"How bad will the blast be if we set it off?" Martin asked.

"It'll set half the city on fire. Toxic gas would pour through the streets in the rest."

Martin thought about it a moment.

"Groooovy..." Martin said with a sadistic chuckle. "Hold that Order a moment. Isacc...how bad did you get it?"

"Barran riddled me pretty good..." Isacc answered. "Just barely got main systems working again...I'm barely capableof killing a Mandalorian at the moment."

"Your stealth systems work?"

"No."

"Risk it anyway." Martin ordered. "Head back to those witches and see if any of them survived the Bombardment. We may need their assistance."

"Sir Yes Sir!" Isacc said, saluting the Bandana wearing Nuetralizer before creeping away.

Martin got back to Apone.

Plant your charges in the Gas Pocket and fault line and be ready to blow it."

"I'll need to be close to set it off electronically..." Apone told him. "Timers damaged."

"May you enter the great Droid Boogie in the sky, shiny and chrome..." Martin said solemnly.

Meanwhile...

Isacc came back to the ritual site where they had first found the Witches. It had been decimated by the Bombardment. Nearly all of them had been blasted apart or crushed by debris and shrapnel, spilling rotting yellow organs and white blood everywhere.

All except one.

Isacc was given pause as he spotted a skeleton with stringy white meat hanging off it, feeding on the trace amounts of Dark Energy in the remains of her fallen fellow witches, rapidly regenerating with sickening, melting and bubbling flesh into the gorgeous Twi'lek with Orange skin in the white Catsuit that had flirted with him earlier. It seemed the catsuit was actually her flesh. Must be using a Shi'ido body. The remains around her began to turn to dust and ash.

The Witch turned around, seemingly unperturbed by the death of her comrades.

"Dreamboat!" She called out with a girlish giggle, skipping up to him.

"Oh, I'm so glad you survived! Y'know, I thought I'd never get to touch all that shiny chrome again. And you're damaged!" she snarled lustfully, slinking up to the murder-bot, fingers tracing the holes he had been riddled with by Barran, the internal systems even now stabilizing somewhat.

"Oh, does somebody need a nice, big repair kit and maybe a hot oil bath afterward?" She asked drawing closer, wrapping his steel skeleton hand around her waist.

"Hahahahahaha you're fethed up." Isacc chuckled.

"I never did get to introduce myself..." The Witch cooed, tracing a finger under the jawline of his nightmarish skeletal visage.

"They call me The Arena...and every evil mind hiding in my flesh is just crazy for you and the Death you bring."

"I force fed someone their own face at Generis!" Isacc said proudly.

"Was it slow and painful, my chrome dreamboat?" The Arena asked lustfully.

"Wanna hear his dying screams, Beautiful?" Isacc asked slyly.

The Arena bit her lower lip. "I'm breathless with anticipation, my chrome dreamboat." she said after a moment.

Isacc's mouth opened slightly and the next thirty seconds were the agonizing death cries of a Stormtrooper he had delimbed and then surgically removed the face of with a vibroknife before forcefeeding it to him.

"Help me! Help meeeeeeeee! AHHHHHHRRRGGGGGG AHHHHH AHHHH AHHHHHHH AHHHH ARRRRRGGGGHHHHAAAAHHHHHHH." The Nuetralizer said and cried out exactly as his victim had.

"You have such a lovely singing voice..." The Arena purred, stroking his chin again. "Did you need something from us, Dreamboat? Afraid the rest of my peers ate it in the Bombardment..."

"We didn't fair much better..." Isacc said. "That sewer that was sealed? Massive Gas hazard. Its basically a huge pressure cooker in some spots."

"I can give you your credits worth for the Gas. I'll direct it to where it needs to go...you handsome chrome nightmare..."

"You psycho, psycho freak!" Isacc replied back playfully, which earned him another girlish giggle from The Arena.

"After this whole Ziost thing is over..." she purred, pressing against the Murderbot now. "What's say you and me go on a killing spree. I'll bring you the victims, and we'll spend the whole day getting them to make those delightful musical notes of yours..."

"Would we get to cut off their limbs?" Isacc asked.

"Of course! Cut the limbs off all of them if you want! Just let me break the ribcages afterward, because I enjoy that. Intensely." The Arena hissed.

She giggled as he pulled her close all the way, having passed the Speech Check.

"How can I say no to easy de-limbing?" Isacc asked himself. "Call me Isacc, my sherbet-hued Murderess."

"There is this lovely spot on Dromuun Kaas where people are sacrificed regularly. You bring the wine, I'll bring the High Quality Programming Updates..."

As if self conscious over the fact every reader was watching her seduce a Murder-Bot, The Arena turned to face everyone reading this with a scowl, due to her insanity granting her medium awareness.

"What?! Do you 'know' how dodgy all those Holonet Dating Sites are?!" She asked no one present in exasperation.

Isacc, realizing just how violently insane The Arena actually was, only chuckled harder as her fingertips danced on his skeletal cheekbone.

A transmission from Martin interrupted the moment as Isacc got out the comlink.

"Update, Soldier!"

"Found one of the Witches alive, Sir. She's agreed to help us." Isacc answered, as the shapeshifter's tongue extended out of her mouth, coiling around his metal neck and snaking up the side of his skull.

"She's very enthusiastic about the whole idea, Sir!" He added as her fingers entwined with his.

"I'll bet..." Martin grunted. "Get her back here, on the double."

"Time to go to work, my Sherbet-Hued Psycho-Killer." Isacc told her pleasantly.

The Arena's tongue retracted loudly and disgustingly into her mouth.

"You got it, Dreamboat."

The Nuetralizer and the Arena then began to make their way to Martin...

Meanwhile...

The Advanced Model 1 Nuetralizer, which had the guise of a young, sand-skinned woman with chocolate hair in black biker leathers that had silvery spikes on them, had gotten the call via comlink. Erskine was believed to be in her vicinity.

Knowing he was a priority target, She had immediately ceased her activities killing off Stormtrooper Survivors from the Bombardment and got a fix on his last known location. She was eager to kill again, especially such a high ranking officer.

The Trade Federation and Republic engineers were not the only ones deploying cutting edge Assassin Droid technology like DT-0800 .

The mass of sentient Laminanium Nanites began scrounging for weapons based on their condition. Unsurprisingly, many were in poor condition due to having been damaged. But one Stood out. A single DC-19 Stealth Carbine with half its ammo expended. Silencer functions still worked. She also removed a single Nine Millimeter SMG and slung it over a shoulder, along with what appeared to be a functional combination melee/energy shield on a dead Stormtroopers forearm.

The Nuetralizers Nanites scanned the device through a combination of ocillating themselves to produce sonar feedback and electromagnetic scans, analyzing the technology behind it. The Nanites she was composed of flowed over the device, breaking down and mapping its components to mimic its effects.

The Advanced Model's frame rippled as its entire structure acquired new capabilities.

(The Advanced Model 1 has upgraded itself with Melee/Energy Shield Capabilities. The Shield lasts two minutes when activated but take three to recharge.)

The Nanite Assassin Droid then began to slowly make its way to Barran's position, quietly, through a lonely and ruined battlefield, the shadow of the destroyer still above. It finally spotted him, but just before it could take a shot from behind cover, about one two hundred meters from Barran's position, Her nanites were commed wirelessly by Martin.

"Don't fire. Not until it happens."

"Until what happens?" The Advanced Model whispered.

"You'll know it when it happens..." Martin replied, turning to spot Isacc and The Arena heading towards his position, the Arena's arm coiled around his.

"Soldier, this is really not the time to fraternize..." Martin said in an annoyed tone, face palming his skeletal visage. Other damaged Nuetralizers were letting the Nanites conduct what repairs they could but it didn't change the fact that both the Bombardment and Erskine's luck in having to fight already damaged Nuetralizers had hit hard.

The Arena smiled, slinking towards him.

"I can help with your little underground gas trick. Got a knife?"

"Take mine! Do you need a sharp stick too?" Hudson the damaged Nuetralizer asked, tossing the Arena his knife.

"What wood is the Stick made of?" The Arena asked.

"Yew."

The Witch shook her head. "Oooo, sorry! I need Oak. But thanks!"

"No problem!"

Martin gave an electronic sigh, pinching the sides of his nose cavity.

"Can we please get back to eliminating this troublesome Human and killing the city he fought so hard to take?" Martin asked.

"Of course!" Everyone else said enthusiastically in unison.

Martin got Apone back on the line. "Did you plant the charges?"

"Every fething Thermal Detonator me and Skipper had has been planted at key points. Given the projected Location of Barran, most of the effects will miss him...all except the gas...but that will take about fifteen minutes to spread to where he is."

"Then he's about to have a front row to the fething Barbecue..." Martin barked.

The Arena, in the meantime, had begun using the knife to carve runes into her face for the Ritual while sitting in a meditative position in a circle of her own white blood.

"Ready!" She called out.

Martin had it all in place now. He sent an encrypted burst transmission on friendly ID signature wirelessly:

ALERT.

NUETRALIZER SPECIAL FORCES TO ALL SITH MILITARY UNITS, BE ADVISED, MASSIVE DETONATION OF UNDERGROUND GAS POCKET IMMINENT. ALL UNITS ARE ADVISED TO KEEP REBREATHER UNITS EQUIPPED. ENTER DETONATION AREA IN SOUTHERN AND SOUTHERN WEST SECTIONS OF CITY WITH EXTREME CAUTION. ALL SITH UNITS STILL ON GROUND ARE ADVISED TO SEEK SHELTER OR RUN.

After giving a grace period of two minutes and thirty seconds, Martin gave the Order to Apone.

"Blow it."

The Blast ripped open a giant crack in a large portion of the city, spewing burning debris and flames that rained down, the blast so intense, parts of the city where the NIO mechanised units had been fighting collapsed into sink holes. Martin and his team were fire away from the blast. But the rumble was so powerful nearly everyone present save The Arena was knocked to the ground. As Apone had predicted before going to the great Droid Boogie in the sky, Shiny and Chrome, much of the blast completely missed Barran and Strasza's location, but The Advanced Model Nuetralizer, taking the horrifically powerful blast as her cue, aimed and fired silenced shots at Erskine's chest, not knowing if it would hit, prepared to dodge if he returned fire.

The Arena's flesh shuddered as she whispered the foul and perverse words of power, her dark magic spreading across the ground in an exponentially expanding wave as toxic gas poured out from ugly fissures in the streets. The Witch's ritual would make any allied units still caught in the radius able to breath in the terrible fumes without dying.

"Impressed yet, my Durasteel Dreamboat?" The Arena called out to Isacc.

"When we get off Ziost, I'm gonna find you some Non-Allied personnel to skin alive." Isacc called back.

"Oooo, who would have thought a Murder Bot could show a girl such a good time?!" The Arena giggled, flesh pulling away horrifically from her skeleton in multiple directions as she channeled the Dark Ritual through her body...

Meanwhile...

The Amalgam had been taken completely by surprise as the Droid teleported to her direction, with a catchy line to boot before swinging his huge chain gun into her fast approaching face.

Having 'never' faced a Teleporting Assassin Droid before, her mind went a little blank as it crashed into her face, flinging her off the building and into the streets below, only her intense Force Rage technique allowing her to survive the blow, with her jaw dislocated, muscles swelling as her flesh turned gray and eyes black as she prepared to kill this impudent droid...

...then Sith Dominance decided to basically go 'eff this' and fired every laser in the Galaxy at the city surface, obliterating the invaders. She herself was too close to an impacting laser, and shrapnel absolutely shredded her armor and near impossibly beautiful looks away, leaving a pearly white skeleton with rancid yellow organs and muscles, using the Dark Side to stay alive as she rose, looking for her opponent, in intense pain, the hatred and death causing her to slowly regenerate...which DT absolutely couldn't allow to happen.

She began flinging lightning in multiple directions on even the off chance she would hit him...

Willan Tal

Tulan Kor

Asmundr Varobalder

Arcturus Tal

Irveric Tavlar

Maynard Treicolt

Dagon Kaze

Creuat

Adhira Chandra

Captain Raith

Cotan Sar'andor

Zark San Tekka

Teica Giraan

Auteme

Aaran Tafo

 

[Djorn Bline]

P U N I S H E D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ZIOST | NEW ADASTA
TASK FORCE IMPERATOR | BATTLEGROUP ‘SNAKE’
ARMOR | PRIMARY | SECONDARY | MELEE | GRENADES

LOVE DETERRENCE​

Expect the unexpected.

But how could he prepare for it?

By now, he thought he knew the enemy well; like the back of his hand. They were diabolical without limits. Their rituals, their tactics, even going beyond in experimenting people and transforming them into tormented monsters that served as just an expendable tool. Just like they did to Loske, and countless of other victims before her. They only cared for their power, a power that existed upon lies and death. Anything and anyone that was convenient to the Sith, were treated with privilege until their value expired.

Snake thought he knew the Sith too damn well. The sudden violent storm that approached New Adasta wasn’t a surprise to him, knowing that Dark sorcerers would employ their black magic to their advantage that bested most weapons with the exception of the Force.

But what he could never expect was when the sky turned ominous as something titanic eclipsed over New Adasta.

The only sign of light was blaster bolts firing from enemy onto enemy, the spark of fire that consumed whatever it could from the heavy artillery, and then a great light of bright emerald piercing through the black sky.

The earth around him shook as ire and fury was rained down upon New Adasta indiscriminately. Everyone’s instinct of flight took hold, running in wild directions like a colony of ants to find some haven to shield from the fire that poured in multiple volleys. It was futile the attempt as the streets and avenues of the city cratered with piles of disfigured bodies filling its hole, screams echoed from across every sector in the city, and fire grew and burned stronger than it was.

Even to the hardened veterans shook with fear from what they were witnessing, the only thing that mattered was to survive this onslaught. The soldier ran only to fall from his imbalance, crawling and trying to pick himself up as explosions rocked him not to mention the littered debris and bodies he trampled on.

Nothing but profanity and curses spilled out his mouth from his anxious state.

<“Snake!”>

A voice yelled out in his ears from the comms, a bold trooper wanting to help Djorn from his hapless situation as turbolasers continued to punish the earth.

Stupid kid, save yourself for feth’s sake

The only thing he could think of this bold, daring trooper that went out of his way to save him.

His fatal mistake as a high yield of energy exploded upon impact on the soldier, burning whatever that it could reach and leave it in smoldering ash. Rubble and debris buried Djorn from that magnitude, falling into darkness as his body gave up from everything his senses were processing.

All he could hear were screams and destruction.

The world was going to hell.

DISPOSABLE HEROES
​

Not dead yet as his eyes opened to a scenery of death and destruction. His shelled body was covered with dust, a fog of smoke and dust lingering in the air. His senses returning to him as he understood what was around him.

His hands immediately removed his helmet as bile was puked out, breathing polluted air and coughing from the molecules his body rejected. Green light still illuminated the sky from the continued volleys of turbolaser destroying whatever they aimed for. Snake slowly stood up on his two feet and attempted to walk, only to fall again after the sloppy steps he took. Into a pool of blood and flesh he fell down on his knees, blood and remains of soldiers that died horribly from massacre. His eyes shocked from what he saw.

Speechless he was, appalled from the hell he was walking in. His eyes then glared with anger, no longer his pupils dilated in fear and agony before letting out a primal scream. His hands, bionic and flesh, were sunk in the shallow pool of blood and then painted the crimson substance on his face full of dust. He’d carry his fallen soldiers with him.

Plant your roots in me

The little time he had to mourn was put aside, newfound strength surged in his muscles as he stood upright. Bloodied and covered in dust, returning back to the mission.

Winning this war.

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Irveric Tavlar | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Rika Hiro | Captain Raith | Tulan Kor | Tiberius
ENEMIES | TSE | Valen | Irina Volkov | Sith Dominance | Laertia Io

 

[Noel Strasza]

M E M E N T O
W A R M A C H I N E
2ND DOOM DIVISION | THE DEATH OF THE WATCHMEN | 2/8
T A S K F O R C E I M P E R A T O R
ENGAGEMENT | OPEN
Light called. Iron paid.

Had she senses about her, perhaps she would have heard the newly anointed Brigadier General declare his intention to save her. It wasn't until the rumbling thunder shaking the debris she was trapped within stopped that the blade of a familiar claymore punctured the hissing steel- giving the smoke of the cockpit somewhere to escape through. She froze, snarling beneath her helmet as the blade dragged downwards, cleaving an opening through which she could see a battered, familiar face peering in. Barran. He was still alive. She wasn't damned to be the sole survivor of this planetwide massacre just yet, it seemed.​

His intervention sparked that fire within her frame, that distant, hollowed echo that separated man from machine. Emotion.​

As he widened the split he had sundered, the cyborg launched herself forward, thrusting her unarmored limb through the hole. Blackened, scorched steel fingers clawed at the exterior of the walker, sparking against its hull as she struggled to find purchase. She didn't acknowledge him verbally, though the reason would remain to be seen, for now, however, it was evident she was kicking and alive as she could be. Her fingers hooked over what had previously been the lower edge of the walker's leg housing, and she strained, gritting her teeth beneath her helmet. Her frame shuddered, fighting against the imposition of human will against it. It was far, far harder to command her body to answer with her systems still offline. Despite this, she persisted, straining against the steel to warp and crumple it out of her way.​

Slowly, the cyborg compressed the upper edge of the steel on itself, crunching it aside as she widened the gap enough for her to slide through with the Galidraani's help. Major crashed into the smoking earth beyond, lingering on her hands and knees as she struggled to breathe, realizing then she was still hyperventilating and coughing from the smoke by the time he had arrived. Hands clawed at the strap beneath her chin, fumbling with it for a moment until she managed to split the ends apart, allowing her to pluck her helmet from her head. ​

A bloodied, half-metal face was revealed, beset by the surface wires of biomechanical engineering, and warped by the horror of war. Red augmented eyes flickered in and out of luminescence sporadically with the sudden disconnection of her systems, and she looked up at the Blue-Heart, furrowing her brow. He had survived. Beyond him, she gazed then, taking in the decimated waste of the armor column he had commanded. Bodies lay strew about, some splintered into too many pieces to hope to put back together- others mere scorched shadows of themselves cast aside like ragdolls. Her head ground to the left, sweeping her raw sight to the larger piece of the AT-HA she had been riding in. Horrorstruck, the deafened Major scrambled across the earth, leaving a trail of glowing, vital coolant in her wake in her mad dash to reach it. If the others had survived, she had no way of knowing, not until she could find their bodies- with her greater systems offline and her ears shot, she was completely deaf.​

The cyborg lunged onto the wreckage, wishing then she still had the human advantage of adrenaline to aid in her efforts to open the scorched hatch. She ignored the hissing warning of molten steel and grabbed it regardless, only damaging herself further in her attempt to twist the hatch open. When she had, she almost regretted it. Smoke bellowed from the belly of the dark beast, hissing by her fleshy features and stinging her eyes. Major recoiled, shielding her eyes from the heat for a second, allowing it a moment to pass. When it had, she thrust herself inside of the obliterated craft, crashing onto the scorched platform with a grunt. The droid socketed into her shoulder stuttered as it opened its blades, soon beeping rather dishearteningly with the results it pulled from vital scans. ​

Strasza proceeded, scrambling and dodging through the haphazard waste of a vehicle to make her way to the primary cockpit. The nose of the craft had been seared clean off, taking its pilot's lower half with it. In shock at the sight, the Major could only bite her jointed tongue, forcing down a sob of despair as the realization that she had just stumbled into a tomb sank its teeth into her. Grief twisted her dirt-streaked face. Lance. Hesitantly, she slid her fingers beneath the bodyglove hugging his throat, tugging the edge of the chain up to where she could get a grip on it and jerked it away- pulling his tags to her palm. The intensity of the blast had scorched the surface, damaging it nearly beyond recognition. Surely then, he had died mercifully. ​

That was all a commander could hope for her men in the aftermath of such devastation. These men and women who signed up to the Carlaci Corps and been assigned to Doom Division were under her care. Her charge. She was to lead them. To guide them. To protect them. And she had failed, this time. The weight of that responsibility would only pile on to the growing remorse she felt under the burden of her mantled responsibility. She never wanted this. She never asked for this. Yet, it had become her cross to bear. ​

The Warmachine left her man there in the chair, moving on to recover the rest of her crew if anything was left of them to retrieve. ​

She found Penny at the split where the turbolaser's charge had impacted them- just behind where the Major had been strapped in. Only half of the woman's body was there, and not the half she could have snagged tags from. The sinking weight grew on her shoulders as she trudged onward, moving down the corridor and up into the primary cannon's nest. She found Crabs and Rogue there. The source of such choking smoke had come from this chamber. The laser had detonated the shells loaded into the cannon for fire, killing the two operatives in a wicked, fiery blast. She crouched on the bloody, scorched floor, resting a hand on the demolitionist's bloody chestguard. "You did me proud," she muttered despite her deafness, "I'll make sure your kids are taken care of. March on, soldier." The words left a film over the inside of her mouth, one she always struggled to cope with. She pulled the tags from his neck and swept over, offering the same rites to Rogue. ​

Tyco was found in the lower cannon cockpit. She hadn't recognized his scorched, blackened body until she pulled the ashy tags from it and wiped them clean. ​

Briggs, her senior operative and second-in-command had died manning the gauges and engines of the vehicle. She didn't want to give it much thought, but she couldn't help it. Perhaps his loss struck her the hardest. Bastion. He was one of the only survivors from her original team. He was the first to greet her when she had awoken and been paraded into the celebration gala at the newly christened Fortress Imperator. He was the first to make her feel human, again. The Major sat down next to his broken body, staring in silence at him for a long-drawn moment. She didn't know what to say. What could she say to a man who had shown her what it meant to be a soldier? A patriot? A leader? Noel took the man's hand, threading her grasp around the stiff clench settling rigor mortis had left his in. "Thank you," she started, wondering if she was actually speaking at all. Her words caught in her throat, choking her. "For being my friend, you old bastard." She reached over him then, rummaging through the pouch on his hip for the little book he often scribbled in during the sparse downtime her crew was afforded. It was blackened and fragile, but she palmed it anyway, pulling it and tucking it into her mangled bag along with the tags she claimed from his body. "I'll give it to the missus like I promised."​

The Major rose from the grave of her men and clambered back up the ladder, emerging from the hatch to look over the wastes left by the cruelty of war. She hopped down, staggering slightly as the effects of her damage finally caught up, forcing a much sloppier response time. She didn't know what the extent of her "wounds" was, but she didn't care. Right now, a lone thought formed itself at the front of her consciousness.​

Vengeance. ​

Her men had been taken by the Sith. Her body stolen by them. Her world crushed a thousand times over. Her life, shattered. They had taken everything from her and left her with nothing but festering hatred. That was all she needed. ​

Turning her gaze back to General Barran, she saw the familiar silhouette of a Nuetralizer. ​

The Sith would afford them no time to grieve. Such was expected of the filth of the galaxy.​

She didn't need it anyway.​

Much more interesting to Strasza then, was The Arena- that wicked font of spewing Darkside energy that split fissures of volatile gas from the earth. "BARRAN! ON YOUR RIGHT!" The Major chanted as she rushed by, weaponless, with nothing but the thought to destroy in her mind. A sudden surge of energy to her motions brought the life back to her systems, which immediately flared in blazing warning across her deployed HUD. She was critically damaged, but it wasn't going to stop her. Sound roared to life at once, clueing her into the screams of those mortally wounded and the thundering drone of the ship still casting them in shade from above.​

Those toxic fumes may have protected the woman from other troopers, but they would not save her from one who did not have to breathe. Flaring, hate-filled eyes of red screamed of her inbound wrath through the haze. ​

Helmetless, Strasza launched herself at The Arena at full speed, aiming to crush the girl to the ground beneath all three-hundred pounds of her titanium weight.​

​

ALLIES | NIO | GA | SJC | DECEASED Erskine Barran Irveric Tavlar Djorn Bline Captain Raith Maynard Treicolt Tulan Kor Tiberius
FOES | TSE | S-IMPS AND OTHER UNSAVORY FOLKS | "THE ARENA" | Sith Dominance The Amalgam

 

[Julian Qar]

c a r d i a c t a m p o n a d e
[ Dr. Julian Qar]
MEDICAL CARE| VERY OPEN - TRIAGE READY
Gear: The Drip - Weapons: Adjudicator & Angry Owl - Medical Kit: Standard Pack + Az-rael [1]

"Ooh, I couldn't give you what you needed. It's all my fault too coward to believe I lost it all..."

Everything moved in slow motion.
Even his heart and his breathing.
Even as the blasts still swarmed overhead and the ground screamed underneath his fingers tips, Julian did not budge.

And then, the lasers stopped….

Silence took over, but it was short-lived until the cluster of legionnaires started to descend from their ships. He didn’t even a second to grieve. This was war.

The nagging voice came rushing in like white noise, small hands jerked his metal onyx frame. He was in a daze, unresponsive. This is what dying must feel like...

“Doctor Qar! Zero out! Zero out...just do it...zero out.” Was she yelling at him? Was this some sort of game? The junior medic could see he was too far gone to make sense of anything, she sighed out frustrated, and flipped out her datapad. She didn’t want to have to do it without his consent but they needed to move or else they’d get overrun by the Sith soldiers marching ahead.

[cmd:/ zero-unit- Julian_Qar_1049006]

Hazel smashed those keys into her datapad and within seconds his eyes turned ghostly white, memory stripped from his mind save for the ones he needed to execute his task. “Let’s get back,” that voice rumbled from his mock vocals, metallic, robotic. Not human. Julian’s HUD screen was now wiped clean, the names no longer visible or carrying any other emergent signs. The timer beside his name ticked off the time they still had left.

[00:30]

They wasted no time traversing through the broken streets, pushing past blasted buildings and the black markings of corpses tattoed into the ground from the holes in the atmosphere the shield had not covered. It was a nightmare, but in this game, they decided to just burn the board instead of playing a fair.


The medics powered through with haste. Hazel’s body was weighed down because of her pack, slowing greatly, she felt fire in her organic lungs - yet Julian kept up with his pace. He was starting to seem more like a soulless droid than an actual human. This was the act of zeroing out expect it was meant for pain and not memory. Maybe when they got back to Carlac Hazel would make mention of hacking his chip for the third time since he’d been brought back.

A sound threw off her mental note-taking, groans of agony and heavy breathing echoed from the rubble just up ahead. Hazel peeled away from the Doc, ears locked in on the voice she couldn’t see fully, just a silhouette cast amongst the burning city “I think I got someone, Doc!.” The junior medic called back, pooling what strength she had to finally get to the figure. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him, pinned down by the bar coming out of his side. Hazel gulped, kneeling beside Chiss man, thankful that the right instincts kicked in instead of her usual sass and fear.


[00:15]


“Hey hey, be careful…” She set her hand carefully on his shoulder, throwing off her pack within a moment’s notice as the Doctor showed up just a few seconds behind her. “Hello Sir, I’m Doctor Qar, we’re here to help,” Julian announced, gods he sounded robotic, his titanium frame lowered beside the man, placing his scanning arm against his shoulder to assess his vitals as quickly as he could.

“Take it, easy sir,” Hazel spoke softly, doing her best to keep him steady while the doctor worked only to be met with growling from the wounded civilian. “No shit…” he shot back at her, wincing as the pain shot daggered through his body.

[Diagnostics report . . .]
[Injuiry: Abdomen, lower left quardent]
[Internal injuries: minor]
[Heart rate: 145 ]
[Blood Pressure: elevated]

[00:10]

“We need to get him back to the ship, there we can treat him properly.” His mind was working in overdrive, “Hazel, nerve blockers...or whatever we have left.” Julian’s hud flickered, they were a few kilometers from the other medics and yet the soldiers kept on marching, relentless and still shooting at them. “Hold him steady. Fuck...Ok, sir, please don’t move, I’m going to isolate the metal and then we gotta fuckin’ go. Sorry bout this man.” Julian acted quickly, lopping rolls and rolls of gauze around the metal and his body, creating a tight anchor against his stomach while the junior medic got him pretty doped up on the good stuff. Thankfully he’d feel nothing for some time until they hopefully made it to safety.

[00:05]

“Alright, lift on three, one- two- three.” The two medics hoisted the nameless man, holding him for those few moments until he regained his balance. Julian pushed them down as a shot zipped past his skull and blood gushed down the man’s leg from the quick movement.

[00:04]

The wave just kept coming, there was no stopping the fire licking at the heels of the cascading sith legionnaires. “Ready up Hazel!” Julian yelled, thrusting a blaster into the man’s chest. “Aim anywhere, let’s fuckin' go.” There was no time for target practice or any proper instructor. They needed to get out as soon as possible.

The rounds just kept coming.

There was no time to grieve.

[00:03…..]
[00:02…..]
[00:01…..]

[cmd:/ zero- out : sequeence : ended.]

"Hazel....wh-where is...Noel?"

​

 

[Mazakah]

O N E L A S T S M O K E
WANTED MAN
New Adasta, Ziost
Julian Qar | Closed

One last smoke. That's all he would get, by his figuring.​

He couldn't go anywhere. He couldn't do anything. He was pinned by the pain he suffered from a wound only worsened by his efforts to achieve his goal. He was alone as hell opened his mouth from above, spewing an orbital hatred he hadn't seen his former faction rain down in quite some time. It was enough to make him smirk. They were desperate to be firing down so recklessly- slaughtering unknown numbers of civilians in the process. He would mourn them had he a place in his heart for them. That's just what happened in a galaxy full of desperate hatred.​

Mazakah pulled a half crumpled cigarette pack from his coat pocket and knocked it against the duracrete by his side, rattling one of the vices to the hole torn in the top. He caught the end between his teeth, pulling it free, and lit it soon after. The stinging heat of smoke drifting down his throat and into his lungs made him stutter a cough, only that went unheard as the rampaging, unrelenting blasts of the turbolasers rained down on the shields overhead. He didn't afford them another look as he busied himself tending to his smoke, sighing deeply to expel the smog from between his lips.​

A shrill, feminine voice somewhere distant caught his attention however- one that didn't sport any of the accents he had grown accustomed to with Sith Imperial forces. The chiss turned his head, narrowing his eyes at the sound. And then, she was there. He blinked at the dirty, white-clad medic as she settled down with him, and gawked at the man with her. The New Imperial insignias branded across their armors made him double take. What a stroke of luck.​

He nodded as they spoke to him, taking their words with a grain of salt. They were in a hurry and he understood why. The return of blasterfire to the soundscape had told him loudly enough that more Sith Imperial forces were on their way. He didn't want to stick around to test them, either. He did his best to keep himself quiet as the medic wrapped him up, but the agitated pain was too great, and he spat a curse through bared teeth, nearly losing his cigarette in the process. He cooperated as they hoisted him up to his feet, relieved then, that he'd been numbed and stim'd out of his mind.​

The city was burning beautifully, he noticed then.​

“Ready up Hazel!” Julian yelled, thrusting a blaster into the man’s chest. “Aim anywhere, let’s fuckin' go.”

​

"Say no more." Mazakah answered him calmly, checking over the blaster he had been offered. It had been a minute since someone had trusted him of all people with such a weapon, and he most certainly had no intention of squandering it.​

The trio shuffled close to the walls of wrecked buildings, creeping through the city as quickly as his wound would allow for them to. It was only when the screaming efforts of blasterfire streaking down the narrow streets chased them back to cover that Maz seemed to animate further, coming out of his drugged haze to glare at the Legionnaires through the crack he found between a broken pavillion and a fence. It would be better for them to remain undiscovered, as much as he was chomping at the bit to empty his blaster in those troopers pushing closer towards them.​

"Where're we pushing to?" He asked the two with him, turning his gaze back onto the New Imperials.​

OBJ :// REACH THE NEW IMPERIAL TRANSPORTS ALIVE
ALLIES | NEW IMPERIAL ORDER? GA? SJC?
FOES | THE SITH EMPIRE

 

[Shoma Ike]

Shoma of Atrisia - Junior Representative of the Planet Atrisia
Jedi Kimono | Sasori Circlet | Lightsaber
Accompanying: Senator Ju Li Kim of Atrisia
Friendly: GA | NIO | Aerarii Tithe | Open Tag
Hostile: TSE | Ingrid L'lerim | Open Tag

Traffic in the hallways seemed a tad more congested than when he'd left the diplomatic quarters for the communications center.

A layer of smoke hung in the air. The air scrubbers in this section were either offline or just overwhelmed with the amount of tibana gas being discharged. He could hear the echoes of blaster fire. Sometimes it seemed like it was in front of him. Sometimes it seemed like it was behind him. Neither prospect made for a comforting journey through the corridors of the ship.

The teen turned left, only to see a blast door closing in front of him.

So much for heading back the way he came. Internally, the boy tried to visualize the layout of the ship. There should be a lift two sections over. Doubling back, the Atrisian prince returned to the junction and, this time took the bend right instead.

And it opened into a T-junction where it seemed like a group of soldiers were battling with droids.

All right. Looking for more options. Turning around, the teen doubled back a third time and tried to take stock of where the corridor might lead.

That was about the time that the teen looked up and saw a pair of reptile-like heads as two figures emerged into the corridor. Tiss'shar?

"Chikushō," the Atrisian muttered under his breath. The violet-pink hue of the lightsaber snapped into being, as a blaster bolt sailed his way.

He didn't know where this hallway led, but it was where he was headed now. Ducking into the side corridor, the teen continued deflecting the blasts as the two Tiss'shar followed after him.

Well, on the bright side, Junko Ike did tell him that he needed to practice more. No better time than the present, right? Lapsing into Soresu, the teen gave all of half a thought to attempting some Shien flashy, Obi-Wan Kenobi type chit. Deflect a blaster bolt back at one of the Tiss'shar or something real Jedi like.

...yeah, that was never going to go like he thought it would.

He'd just keep deflecting the bolts into the floor and wall until he... actually came up with a plan of what to do. Other than deflecting the bolts into the floor or wall. Because it was working for the immediate problem.

Now, the issue of the Tiss'shar creeping up on him and closing that distance? Yeah, he wasn't sure how long this strategy was going to work for that.

If you'd even call it a strategy.

 

[Suri Vullen]

「 Waiting on that morning sun
Soldier keep on marchin' on 」
ECLIPSE TEAM
76TH PATHFINDER REGIMENT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE ARMED FORCES
Sol Stazi | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Maynard Treicolt | Sith Dominance | @the rest of u groundpounders | OPEN TO OPPOSITION

The hangar stretched before them as they came into the open area. An expansive, empty room laid before them. Suri's eyebrows shot up as she took in the sight. Something wasn't right- there should have been half a fleet here.​

Suri only heard it, as it was on them in an instant. The explosion rocked the ground, throwing her off balance. The impact was rough as her body slammed into the hard floor. She didn’t have time to think of the pain. Her head whipped around to assess the damages. A crater was smoking. One of her rangers laid on its slope, limp. Rubble fell from the ceiling the lasers cut through. Anger swept through her like a coursing river as the pieces came together as to what had just happened. The unthinkable was now a glaring reality. Scrambling to her feet, her eyes were wild, a prey caught in a predator’s trap.​

Hellfire continued to rain down. Each blast ended more lives, ruined everything in its path. Mayhem took hold as rangers dove for cover. Suri did not join them. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she raced toward the charred, blackened bodies. She willed herself to move faster, but it was as though they were encased in sap. Loved ones flashed before her eyes. Gala. Already gone. Blake, the man she had come to find a friend in during the deployment. Was he okay? Was that him laying at the edge of the crater? Her twin, her better half. Was she hurt? Where was she? Was she safe from the judgment day that had begun?​

Suri dropped to her knees as she found him. She wiped away soot, which revealed a young face. Kader. She had saved him on Generis, despite all odds. They had fought tooth and nail to get him back, and he had only just recovered. He was so young. Suri recalled the night they spent drinking aboard the station weeks ago. He had told her about his little baby daughter. He hadn't even gotten to meet her; she was born as soon as they had left.​

Suri fought back tears. She was powerless. There was no changing death; it simply was, and it never got easier to see. As she reopened her lids, brown orbs found his face. Her hand floated over his, drawing them shut with two fingers. The onslaught around them began to slow as she whispered a small prayer for him. It seemed at first the strange tranquility of a life taken, the peace found in chaos, but finally, the lasers stopped altogether.​

"Rest, now. I'll make sure your daughter knows what a great man her father was." She told the corpse weakly.​

Finally, she rose once more. Her gaze darted, looking for the major. When she finally found him, she called desperately.​

"We have to get out of here! The mission was a failure!"​

Her eyes dropped to the datapad engraved in her armor, her fingers a flurry as she looked at the reports. The landscape was devastated. Forces were scattered. Everything was karked. A few key spots in the city proper still stood; they would likely make for evac zones.​

"The Blue-Hearts aren't far! We can regroup with them and figure things out!" She reported to the major.​

 

[Auteme]

Okkeus Dainlei Aaran Tafo Kisaku Oroken | Alina Tremiru Saket Keane Darth Strosius ​

It'd never been that close.

She'd thought about it before -- she thought about it often. It scared her. She was a Jedi, after all; did she need to do it to be a Jedi? She didn't think so. She was a healer. Her job was always to help others. She could never... not. She couldn't do things that might harm others or left them to suffer. That always brought up the question of if the healing itself was ethical. If she healed someone who went on to hurt someone else, was it better to have simply left them wounded? Was she liable for the actions of those she kept alive?

Yet she'd pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She could keep helping, keep protecting. She couldn't paralyze herself with every misstep.

But it'd never been that close.

The way the saber shimmered as it soared through the air had an almost ethereal grace. Very nearly a thing of beauty; even as it slashed through the soldier's armor. She watched as the pieces fell with a thud to the ground against the wall she'd pushed the man against.

It was her doing. She might not have swung the blade but she was part of it.

Okkeus asked if she was alright; she forced herself to nod. In truth she only wanted to keep herself from freezing up again. Her mind spiraled into the speculation, the numbers; every life, every light in the galaxy. Her steps -- her heart -- felt heavier and heavier as they went down the hall.

She kept pushing and pushing; the thoughts from her mind, herself to move quicker. Aaran was in danger-

Whether she helped him or not, would she always be an accomplice?

A killer?

Auteme came to a stop, down the hall behind Aaran. His attackers seemed to slow. She stared down at them, knowing she had to do something -- yet her hands locked in place at her sides.

Why now?

Why not always?

"NO!"

The Force curled into a kind of fist, twisted and spun; it set out from her, moving to knock back the vampiric woman set on attacking Aaran's legs.

 

[Silas Sunfyre]

B A S T A R D
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BATTLE GROUP 'ENIGMA'
173rd LEGION | FOURTH COMPANY | TAKA GROUP
ZIOST
Armour | Rifle | Pistol | Sohei| Hammer | Grenades
Company Strength: 275/275

DANCING WITH FLAMES
​

The Fourth Company began their breach of the atmosphere, carving a path directly to the ground and New Adasta. The swarm of their gunships and shuttles was akin to the gates of heaven opening, opening forth to release the phantom hordes of the Empire. But the Fourth Company was no immense legion. They were not even Lucien Dooku’s favoured Company. As such, they had not been deployed with him when he had been in New Adasta nigh two weeks ago.

Bound to the servitude of border skirmishes with the Sith’s wavering shadow and the plethora of rogue Sith that wandered the stars, the Fourth Company rose from their monotonous duties to ride with the rest of the New Order, but still, later.

The Alliance was trapped, and they fought for a path to the ground, unfettered by the Sith Empire. The New Order’s arrival was to be a bolster to their forces, to ensure that route was created, and as five-oh-first hit the ground, the Myrmidons lingered in orbit, the furthest from the fight to ensure the deployment of their ground forces went unnoticed.

It had been then when Silas had fought for a longer route. One that would allow them to skirt the edges of the space battle and breach the atmosphere before the unsuspecting Sith commanders took note. The journey had been long, but in the distance, through the viewport in the cockpit, Silas could see New Adasta rising in the distance.

Head bobbing up and down as he exhaled silently, he made a move to leave, but just as he did, a black form appeared in the sky… Right where they were going. Silas shot glances to the pilots, whose hidden features looked back to him and each other. Their shared surprise short lived as they watched the merciless beams of light rain from the Behemoth to litter the infested battleground with the dead.

It did not take long for the pain to reach Silas. The suffering of hundreds, if not thousands as a thousand more lives were squelched in a brief instant. His hand, clenching the top of the headrest of the pilots seat dug in, and it creaked, the strength enhancing suit of armour threatening to crush it entirely before he felt relief. The voice of the Imperial leader cutting through the din of suffering voices in the Force that he could not ignore. His normally cold voice filled with something… More. Despair, and rage, Silas surmised.

<"All Naval units, concentrate fire on Behemoth II! I repeat! All fire on Behemoth II!">

And in the following moments, the Imperator’s voice was lost.

“What happened? Bring it back!”

“I-I don’t know what happened, it… Just cut off.”

Silas’ head shook from side to side, the looming hunk of metal in the air a constant threat. They couldn’t truly be expected to land amongst the ruins of a bombardment? A second one was likely coming, or the release of a horde of troops, slaying the weak and wounded that had survived the first barrage.

The Sovereign Imperator, Silas thought.

Reaching forwards, his hand pressed a singular button on the console. The frequency for the Fourth Company. “We don’t know if the Imperator lives,” the voice distortion created y his helmets system hid the youth in his voice, giving him that same, mild staticky sound that was typical of Imperial helmets. “So we buy the survivors time. Follow the lead gunship.

We avenge those lost.”

Their angle of approach was altered. No longer did they aim for New Adasta, the rapidly approaching swarm of gunships angling up towards the underbelly of the Behemoth II. As the ship exchanged fire with those forces above it that sought to bring it down, and its hangars opened and its first dropships flew out… The lead gunship of Fourth Company flew in, and crashed directly into the next dropships that sought exit from the confines of the Behemoth’s hangar.

In the wake of fire and debris that was returned into the belly of the beast, Silas’ group, flew through the roaring flames of the ruined ships. Contorted in such a way that it was nigh impossible to tell which ship started where.

The flames licked at his metal covered body, and he spiraled forwards, hammer in hand as he brought it down over one of the cockpits of the dropship. The repulsor and shockwave generators crushed the window, and the glass exploded inwards. Prepped for lift off, the troop compartment was already shut off, and instead of entering the dropship, he removed one of the thermal detonators adorning his torso and dropped it within.

He did not look when the explosion ripped through the interior of the dropship. He was joined by the rest of Taka Group and the Fourth Company as they set about assaulting the unsuspecting Sith-Imperials in their ships. Revenge was a sweetness rarely tasted, and almost never so soon after the slight.

A grim smirk settled on his face, behind the statuesque image of his helmet.

“No prisoners.”

ALLIES | NIO | GA | Tulan Kor | Tiberius | Maynard Treicolt | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Willan Tal | Kal Ostan | Captain Raith | Suri Vullen | Irveric Tavlar | Noel Strasza | Julian Qar
ENEMIES | TSE | ENGAGING Sith Dominance | Valen

 

[Kole Eckttor]

Location: Ziost surface
Objective: Get off of this nerfing planet
Allies: Mazrim Caide/Taim
Enemies: Anyone firing on him
Ship: The Flying Bantha

———
​

His gun slowly lowered to his side.

Only part of his trust was put into this man standing across from him. What did he say his name was...Mazrim? Man, the galaxy is getting weirder and weirder with their naming. Rarely do you see the common names anymore.

​

"Alright, Mazrim, if you are telling the truth, then I need to get to those parts. I ain't staying on this planet any longer."

Waving his left hand to his side, he gave a gesture as to say 'you lead the way.'

A large volley of blaster fire shook him a little bit, but thankfully it sounded quite a distance away. Man did he hate Ziost. At least he'll have a good story to tell.

"I'm Kole by the way. Kole Eckttor."

 

[The Amalgam]

The Nuetralizers present when Noel Strasza charged at the Arena instantly locked onto her. Isacc, targeting systems were still working and so was his arm mounted Sonic Disruptor, but the fire arms protocols had not yet restored.

As Strasza closed in, the still Damaged Nuetralizer stepped in front of the Witch, Its extensive hand to hand and melee protocols still active, and charged at the damaged cyborg.

All Nuetralizers are as strong as a Wookiee at factory specs, and Isacc was no different.

"Darling, I've gotta get you to the church on time!" The Nuetralizer taunted sadistically as it targeted all the damaged parts of the cyborg with a ruthless coldness with metallic feet and fists, exhibiting and almost human strategy in how it randomized and mixed up its attacks, The Arena cackled as the Other Nuetralizers surrounded the Witch, aiming their remaining working weapons as Isacc attacked.

The Witch chanted another Dark Spell, trying to get into The cyborg's head and muddle her reflexes...

DECEASED Erskine Barran

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

POST VIII
THE_STORMCHASER

1ST EXILED-GALIDRAANI DIVISION
2ND GALIDRAANI ARMOURED-VOLUNTEER BRIGADE,"BLUE-HEART BRIGADE"

OBJECTIVE 3: Remnants of Dust

Taskforce LIONHEART: Willan Tal Konrad Bolter Enedina Tal

ALLIES (NIO/GA): Irveric Tavlar Tulan Kor Noel Strasza
Fisk Kamer DT-0800 A.I.M Rika Hiro
Djorn Bline Arcturus Tal Tiberius
Cotan Sar'andor Captain Raith Suri Vullen Kal Ostan
Zirell Marxon Master Zoryu Zark San Tekka
Kinoan Asmundr Varobalder Aelys Allyson Locke

ENEMIES (TSE/CIS): Irina Volkov Valen Taeli Raaf Sith Dominance
The Amalgam Laertia Io Maple Harte

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

Custom Blaster-Pistol | Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore

A BARRAN WASTELAND - Wrath of the Stormchaser V (A Grieving Cyborg)

After cutting deep into the reinforced wall that hindered Noel's escape, Lord Erskine had created a triangular cut in the wall itself to aid the Cyborg-Major in using her strength to shunt it open. It was easy for Strasza to throw her entire weight behind forcing herself (and the triangular cut segment of the obstructing wall) out of the stolen AT-HA, though it was nowhere near as easy for Noel to rip through the steel-composite as it was for Barran to make lateral-steps to veer out of the outward-motion's way. From there, the reacquaintance was expected to begin, though it seemed that Strasza was going through her moment of horror first; looking out into the apocalyptic hellscape almost lifelessly until the realization that her squad, though incredible they were before the orbital strike, may have perished in the attack.

The Watchmen, like their Major, had aided Barran in returning to his command-vehicle on Generis, with each and every last,"Prodigal One" proving their worth as they went. These were a particular archetype of operators that Lord Erskine had a long-lasting appreciation of, as the Lord-Commander had always held the opinion that some smaller spec-ops recon squads were infinitely more capable than a vast majority of the Sith-trooper legions, and just as comparatively against the other, older Sith-legionnaire concepts in the galaxy's recent troubled centuries. The Watchmen, as far as both commanders knew, had been obliterated in the orbital strikes, leaving only one element from Noel's unit alive as far as the cyborg-Major knew, but it didn't stop Strasza from looking for her comrades at least.

Rushing off into the smoky mist to search for her brothers-in-arms, her friends, the only family she'd known since waking from what many assumed had been a brutal, irreversible death, the Major would be deaf to the Brigadier-General's exclaimed request to,'Be careful on sharp edges, Strasza! You're in no condition t'be testing the remnants of your armour's durability in that state!', though the Woad laughed it off (through interspersed pained wheezes) in the realization that he was talking to Major Noel Strazsa. Barran knew there was no use in urging a juggernaut-steamroller to play it safe, even less in urging the same for a commander who would probably endanger herself far worse otherwise, so he left Strasza to process her losses in her own personal way; as far as Lord Erskine saw it, Noel had earned that much at the very least, and most-certainly the right to be awarded medal-induction into the Order of the Lion, so the Lord-Commander shut his trap to let the Cyborg-Major process her grief on her own terms.
Hell hath no fury.... Like a Cyborg-Woman with vengeful-murder in her eyes. An' may God have mercy on whoever crosses her path now....

<"Gowrie to Blue-Heart Alpha! Primary-Target has eluded the Grand Marshall, your collaborative bait has dried. Vectoring east to your current position, glad to hear you're alive. I'd also like to extend my deepest condolences for the passing of your son-">

'-No you wouldn't, not today. Not if you'd rather go without getting two shots t'the dome, Gowrie. Trust me in that, it's much too soon for that talk. Vector east as intended, find survivors. We have droids in the area, and possibly worse. Be wise, be wary.... Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

A BARRAN WASTELAND - Wrath of the Stormchaser VI (Nuetralizers in the Mist)

Groaning his way to a standing position by leaning forward and bringing a knee towards his chest and raising himself by the legs, the Lord-Commander noticed that there was strange liquid everywhere, and quickly surmised it to be the Cyborg's answer to a lesser human's blood-spatter as he studied it further. As he turned around to look inside the smoking husk of the Major had ripped her way out from just minutes before, the Brigadier-General could see that a lot of it's glowing spatters could be spotted from where he was standing; some five metres away from the opening, and the way it glowed helped Lord Erskine see exactly where she'd been unconscious before, and how much Noel's unit had been haemorrhaging in the time it taken him to arrive.
Incredible.... Is there anything in this Galaxy that can put 'er down for good? Glad she's on our side, honestly.

He had time to spare, so the Lord-Commander would unsheathe his trusty basket-hilted Vibrosword and check for damage as he waited for the Major to step out from the mist beyond, only to find it just as perfect as it was before the engagement with the droids at the mass mechanised wreckage-site. Sheathing the claymore, Erskine checked on the state of his blaster-pistol, disassembling to quickly clean whatever parts he could before putting it back together; with eyes wide open, the entire process would be completed by slow, deliberate instinct as Barran looked around him for potential adversaries hiding in the smoky grey mist that saturated New Adasta's windy, crumbling paradise. As soon as the last component had been reassembled, the Brigadier-General made a conscious effort to cock the hammer as quietly as he could, clicking it into live activity with a tiny click before adopting his trained pistol-shooting posture; rotating only as far as was sensible each time, Erskine knew turning in about-faces would need to be broken down into two sets of movement to viably cover all arcs of fire from a solitary open position.

'BARRAN! ON YOUR RIGHT!'

What seemed like a droid had seemingly gotten the drop on him, but seeing it following the sound of Noel's voice had confirmed it to be facing the other way in the distance, not that Erskine ever looked a genuine gift-horse in the mouth. The sudden nature of everything seemed to be working against their adversaries, and it seemed to the Lord-Commander that the Cyborg-Major knew it before he did, though the reaction time of Erskine was still nothing to be laughed at, as he'd drop it with three shots to it's head, somehow knowing it to be something stronger, and faster than a real droid, especially in the quick moment he'd picked up on the fluidity of his slightly-obscured foe's movements. Not even noticing that Noel had rushed past him to attack another advanced droid, Erskine was shocked and impressed to find her already ripping it's head off with nought but her bionic hands.

Their true fight for survival was well and truly underway, but Erskine had never felt calmer, thoughtlessly holstering his pistol to draw his basket-hilted Vibrosword once more. The reasoning, the analysation, the calculation, all gone for the faith the Lord-Commander had in his own sword-arm as the claymore slid across his view with sharp, biting intent. Everything felt right about what Barran was doing, his body praising his actions by bringing back those bloodthirsty shivers he loved so dearly, raising the hairs on the Lord-Commander's neck as he ran into the mist like a murderous shadow. The wild, burning landscape would work to his advantage, and the Woad-born would breathe easier than a sleeping dog as his legs carried him from one adversary to the next, slipping around the wreckage site like a spectre in the night as one head after another left the necks and shoulders that held them aloft.

After some small passings of time had elapsed, the Lord-Commander's silent rampage eventually yielded another (though much more advanced) intuitive-AI droid, feigning lateral movement to gain a better angle as Erskine slid below it's reach and sliced it's pivoting leg clean through to aggressively escape the catching bite at the other end with a low-rumbling grunt of exertion to see the Vibrosword escape the steel-plating and complete it's quick semi-circle trajectory. Despite the droidish nature of his foe, Barran had to sprint forward to avoid the intuitive droid's downward thrust with what looked like a cavalry sabre at first glance, which barely missed Lord-Erskine's heels in his low-posture sprinting escape; only one particular breed of synthetic life could even attempt such a downward stabbing movement with the hands it is dealt by opponents, only one had the sheer gall to attempt the impossible to it's own detriment.

'Nuetralizer! I'd recognise those fluid motions anywhere, ya daft toaster-oven!', Erskine growled in antagonistic greeting, smirking as he looked down at his struggling foe on his re-entry into the Nuetralizer's reaching-pocket, hacking and slashing it's sword hand until it hadn't the fingers to hold it's Vibrosword any longer. Kicking the rapier-redesign to one side, Barran turned back around to cut off the one arm that would be of use to the intuitive one before inquiring,'Any chance you could point me in the direction of this - Amalgam of yours? We're coming for your commander's head.... Whether they want it to happen or not!', lowering his stance has he tested the reactions and temperament of the Nuetralizer.

'Oh, they know you're coming.... They definitely-'

Knowing where the Nuetralizer was taking the argument, the Brigadier-General chose not to give the intuitive-AI who drove the unit any final satisfaction, cutting off their last words as Barran cut off it's head with a back-handed swipe aimed beyond the right-hand side of it's neck. After standing with tentative wariness, Erskine looked up to search the smoky mist for more enemies, and was pleasantly shocked to find Noel standing less than five metres off to his right, seeming to have been observing the fight from as far back as the moment his claymore made contact with the side of the Nuetralizer's knee-protection. The unlikely friends would share a curt nod of appreciation of each other's commitment to surviving Ziost, and enjoy the silence for a while as the world appeared to die a slow, agonizing death around them; they'd both look off to the east, letting their eyes follow the echoes of explosions, falling towers and LMG fire ringing out into the decomposing suburbs around them, taking in what appeared to be the only moment of serenity they'd find for the rest of their time there.

Their fight wasn't done yet, but as both warriors disappeared into the mist, friendly units in Galactic Alliance apparel stepped forth to find the beheaded remains of the Nuetralizer droid that Erskine had just dispatched. Backup, though from an unexpected ally, had arrived for Erskine and Strasza, with what remained of the Blue-Hearts following close behind from the west. This fight would get drastically worse for the Amalgam's contingent for each second they'd persist in continuing their struggle, as not only did they have deathly-silent killers in the smoke-filled murkiness to contend with, and the Amalgam's own drastically-depleted roster, (with thanks to their own ally's orbital strikes) but the promise of harder-hitters than the units who'd arrived to find the Blue-Hearts, just enough to keep Barran in the fight with his chances improving in complete increasing contrast.

'You can't elude me forever, Amalgam....'
​

​

 

[Fisk Kamer]

Objective: Duel with some peeps
Allies: Kinoan
Enemies: Laertia Io | Maple Harte
Items: Lightsaber, Lightsaber

———
​

"I don't like this dude. Something's wrong here, I know it."

A small crash that came from the opposite side of the smoke let him know the force push did hit something. What it was though, he wasn't sure of. His lightsaber still was still upright, reading to block back anymore oncoming fire.

"Yeah, this is kinda freaking me out a little bit."

The Jedi was defiantly more on edge than the Imperial Knight. The shot fired directly at his head made the adrenaline start pumping through his veins. Even though no one could see it because of the mask, his eyes were darting around the battlefield like crazy, trying to find where the next shot is coming from.

"Just be ready for..."

His sentence was cut short. The white blade of his lightsaber swung around to collide with a green one. A women wielding the blade somehow appeared out of nowhere, without even making a sound. Sparks were released off of the colliding blades.

That was when intense pain went through his shoulder.

Another blaster shot had fired off, striking the Mon Calamari directly in his right shoulder. The Imperial Knight fell down to one knee while he still tired to defend himself.

"Fisk!"

The new foe threw them both off guard. If Fisk wasn't there to deflect the blade, his head would be rolling on the ground somewhere.

His yellow saber now collided with the green one. He stared down the face of an unfamiliar women. But somehow, she seemed so familiar. It was like a million voices were all screaming to him, trying to let him know who this was.

Then it hit him.

Quickly looking down at Fisk, he confirmed that the Mon Calamari knew as well. This wasn't your everyday lightsaber swinger. This was the Jedi killer.

"Ahhhh!"

Pushing himself off of his knee, he stood up, swinging his blade for the Jedi killer's ribcage. They had taken so many lives from this universe. And not just Jedi. Many Imperial brothers had their lives taken from them as well.

And now it was time to return the favor.

 

[Vexander Graves]

Seto Du Couteau || Brama Tagge || Jax Thio
To Engage: Lark​

Over the travel from corridor to corridor, Vex remained always vigilant, figuring out where the enemy where and what was going on. During their travel, Jax Thio meet them and he proceeded to join the whole group to the Situation Room.

"Having you around is quite refreshing Jax, let's go"

They were perhaps a few halls down the way to the Situation Room when one of the aids reported that there were definetely intruders onboard and the Jedi Master knew that as soon as they were in the room, he would have to get going to meet them head on.

As soon as they entered to the place, Senator Tagge proceeded to get a readout on the situation not only on the inside but also on the outside. Almost inmediately, reports came around flying back and forth regarding the status on the inside and even reports about the troops on the ground.

Vexander's eyes widened as he heard about a SSD raining down on Ziost... on all the living beings that were stationed there regardless of the fact if they were sentient or not, if they were Alliance members or civilians, if they were Jedi or not. These assailants have no respect over life at all and that ticked the wrong buttons in the corellian.

The Jedi had a hard time hearing such injustice and evil, it was wicked... he remembered those actions years ago during the Galactic Republic times... and he wouldn't stand there hearing reports now that he was certain that something had to be done.

"Senators... I cannot stay here for much longer..." the man reached to his belt and unclipped his lightsaber and it caused the blade to inmediately spring to life in a cyan and warm light that bathed the right side of Vex's robes "...I need to help outside and secure this ship" His eyes were different than before, he had this fire that was a big contrast to the blue in his irises, it wasn't scary and didn't seem like if he was angry, his gaze was filled with a purpose and an objective "You both will be safe here".

With that being said, the Jedi just left the situation room adamant to the fact that he would face this evil head on. He didn't notice what the rest of the team were going to do but he did open himself to the Force to allow it to guide him through the places... and to determine where he should go.

But it didn't take him long to just turn around and noticed that someone was following them since quite some time... a shadow figure that trailed them carefully, a redheaded young man with a vicious gaze fixed upon them. Vex didn't have to reach to the Force to know that this fellow was a source of turmoil... through the Force any Force sensitive being would be able to tell that this was a strong and dark presence with ill intentions in his heart.

The bearded Jedi stepped outside the situation room "Close the blast doors" with a steady pace, he went straight to meet this darksider.

"You have come a long way..." is words were calm, they carried a sense of authority and yet they seemed friendly even to this being "...you don't want to go inside there, we better deal with this on this corridor" Vexander smiled eventhough he had his lightsaber with him he moved hands to both of his sides and show that he was just in a defensive stance "Why are you here all alone?"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

ZIOST ACADEMY
Aradia Pavanos

「I GAVE LABOR TO THE GRIEF」​

One couldn't help but wonder why these durasteel shelters weren't crowded. Empty shells denied their usefulness by order of Sith Eternalism. Though, it wasn't as if there were many still living or planetside to make use of them anyway. The bland, featureless housing around them shook with every note in the bombardment meeting Ziost's surface.

It evoked anxiety for those beyond. If it was half as rough as it felt, there's no telling who was still kicking. Part of him wanted to turn, run into the rain of hell to do what he could. It would likely be his death, but the sense of duty still nagged the back of his mind nevertheless. Instead, he was stuck here in the bowels of a Sith Academy, in an empty durasteel box struggling to hold fast against the chaos above.

Empty, aside from her. Whether that was comforting or immensely disconcerting, he couldn't yet place. Somehow he figured the prospect of killing him wasn't entirely off the table for her. He was already here, risking neck and going pseudo-AWOL, and for what? To reaffirm that someone still had good in them just to inevitably fail on a solution again? To get to the bottom of what happened in an escape pod lost in space?

It was beyond frustrating, as internal uncertainties often were. Eternal recurrence had struck again, leaving the two of them more or less trapped in yet another non-ideal space. This time, it was arguably his fault, given that he shouldn't have even been here in the first place. Dust absconded from the walls with another tremor, forcing wisps of particles to dance around the stagnant shelter.

Knowing that he'd topple over eventually with Ziost's constant quaking, he shambled his way to a seat. Every moment anticipated accostation from the earpiece, but none came. How bad was it out there, really? The disturbance in the force that loss of life begets didn't feel any worse than usual, but surely that couldn't be right? Eyes drifted to the ceiling, wandering around like searching for something on the featureless steel.

The rumbling of tremors and long-muffled remnants of explosion soundwaves were but white noise for several minutes. "Bhesj! Are they trying to glass the place or what?" He made a face as a particularly jarring convulsion of the surface vibrated the chamber like a botched hyperspace emergence. Indistinct cursing in his alien tongue followed with a wince. It could have been worse, he could be topside right now. Instead, he'd defied instruction to follow the lead of that infatuating agitating thread. The phantasmal lead attached as a side effect of dual efforts for survival.

"So, uh-" A sudden boom and quaver forced him to pause, gritting his teeth with a hiss as he held on until it subsided, keeping words on the tip of his tongue. "I dunno, chit, are you good? You were-" he suddenly exclaimed a sound of displeasure. "Valle ke'dem, yeah, that's probably a stupid question, isn't it?" His head leaned down and turned into his fingers, floating above his elbow's perch on the armrest. Audible scratching of nails on scalp echoed curiously. "It's probably not as bad as you think it is, though. What you said earlier? About people wanting you alive? It's easy to feel that way, I know better than anyone probably, but it's never as bad as you think."

 

[Teica Giraan]

[Location: Ziost Atmosphere - Peacemaker{Negotiator-class Light Cruiser} - Bridge]
[Captain Giraan reporting in]
[Relevant to: Sith Dominance Maijan Paisea ]
​

Orange and yellow flames flared up around the Peacemaker's deflectors as she screamed across the air. Quick, precise salvos of energy bolts dashed out from slowly warming turbolaser barrels. One salvo--Minor Damage. Two--Heavy scarring....Seven--Destruction of port engines.

"Captain, they're aiming their main guns at us!"

Indeed they were. Teica watched the trajectory of rapid firing green streaks raising toward her. Suddenly, any remote feelings of confidence were brutally murdered as the earlier bombardment's victims were, and replaced with an air of peril. The cannon fire cut across the starboard in a violent salvo, accompanied by the racing of vibrations throughout the walls. The resonations, the impacts, she felt the Peacemaker shaking; crying out in anguish. She too wanted to be anywhere else, but life was never kind to its participants, never fair.

The sparks had returned to plague the bridge crew, this sudden burst of energy and the amount that it taxed the shields began to overload conduits throughout the ship. Rushing to accompany the yellow-tinted bursts of fire-covered particles were the pale clouds of smoke, seeping out from the vents and into the lungs of the crewmembers.

One Salvo--Minor Damage.

Two--Heavy Scarring.

Three--Obliteration.

The Peacemaker screamed to port as a nearby corvette turned into debris, flying to the sides, and eventually crashing to the surface below.

25%.

That was the shielding status.

"Behemoth's launching dropships, captain," The scanner chief let out a few dry coughs.

"Target them with our laser cannons, and bring us to port. Climb on over One-Fifty meters above that Dreadnought, and bring us across their aft and under."

One Salvo-Two-Three-Six- The engines of a nearby frigate came barreling toward the ground, covered in flames and scars. Four ships left. Four real ships left, that was.

6%.

"Maijan, have your illusions cut across their bow, try and keep the fire away from our ships," Teica kept her tone clear and stoic.

The Peacemaker, a missile frigate, and two corvettes swerved to starboard and began to climb, turbolaser blasts trailing their engine blocks, until they were out of effective range. Then there were Three; The Peacemaker, and the corvettes, all scarred and crying for help.

0%.

The engines cut out in a brief choke, only to return with even more vigor, as the Alliance starships dove downward and fired off another wave of missiles.

One downward run as the Peacemaker cut across the dreadnought's engines with a salvo of ion blasts, then a violent swerve to port as the light cruiser charged under the Behemoth II, turrets ablaze with anger, pieces of hull-plating slowly being charred and ripped from the increasingly skeleton frame; turbolaser blasts ringing across its dorsal surface.

One salvo--Hull scarring.

Two--Engine damage.

Three--Engines failing.

The blue rings of light all but disappeared as the Peacemaker struggled to keep its bow up, every second nearing closer to the ground. Every second, being torn apart.

"All hands, Brace for Impact! Prepare for Emergency Landing!"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

WE RISE
ZIOST ORBIT | ASV UNNAMED
CHANGE MY PITCH UP

​

Blood. The smell of iron bit through the scent of ash, and the ichor’s warmth oozed over its fingers. It needed it. Its primal demand to hunt escalated by the immediacy of the reward, and the scream of its prey.

Everything inside ––grief, fear –– said the same thing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, this isn't how it’s supposed to be. And the Lady of Secret’s machinations held the broken Jedi’s hope by the throat, laughed and said: But this is how it is.

There was nothing human about the creature that was seared through the torso by the lightsaber. It’s caterwaul was inhuman and furious, sinews immediately knit and flexed, weaving over one another to close the wound and push the blade back from within its body.

It was feral now, feral and enraged. The searing heat from the encroaching flames and the pulsing strain from the wound it was mending on its body sent off alarms to remove themselves from the situation. While still getting revenge on the one that had harmed it; so far they’d lasted longer than any other that was now a corpse strewn throughout the ship.

With supernatural strength, the on-the-mend monstrosity lurched to leap forward, keeping its claws around the intruder’s neck. In an exchange of location, it rolled on its shoulders before transferring back to its feet and throwing its arms forward, releasing its grip to hurl its prey away.

Where all of their attention had been on the blaster doors, the entire crew were now transfixed on the security screens. White ghosts among the black shapes of evil that had plagued their corridors for..a lifetime it felt like. The flames within the hangar and hallways were many, many, brilliant sparks that lit the fires of hope and promise. Of salvation.

Their chests fluttered in unison, gripping at one another’s uniforms in tight clenches of anticipation. Each breath was bated, precious within their nostrils –– fully aware each inhale may be their last. They dare not waste it speaking, in case volume jeopardizes their dreams.

​

ALLIES | TSE |
ENEMIES | GA | NJO | NIO | Elpsis Kerrigan

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

Shamira Karuto | Rika Hiro | (Closed)​

"Fethin' hell! Bad jump or pissed captain?" Legionnaire Hubrin, helmet missing and left eye replaced with a dirtied bacta patch, squinted against the waning light as the Behemoth eclipsed New Adasta. Cara cast a quick glance to the sky, her eyes following the howling streaks of plasma as they crashed over the skyline.

"Brutal efficiency," she withdrew from the shuttle door as the transport began its descent, "and perhaps a pinch of emotion." Cara wasn't new to the empire's arrays of dominance, and any soldier voicing awe at such an event were showing their inexperience. With one hand clasped to a hanging strap she turned a step around to take a look at the young man. He was seated with rifle cradled on his lap, his marred face still watching the scene unfold outside the shuttle. Ah, there it was. The rank on the man's shoulder was that of recruit, a private in any other military. Satisfied her assumption was right Cara began to turn away but paused. She reached to the shelf above him to snatch a first aid bundle then held it out to him.

"Have Marc replace that filthy bandage. It's unsightly."

Whether the last bit was dark humor or a slip of the tongue was unknown, but the legionnaire accepted her advice and took the bundle.

"Yes ma'am--I mean, doctor." He looked down, suddenly busy putting the rifle away and digging into the bundle.

Cara was more than practiced in keeping a straight face, sparing the recruit from what would have been a tactless smirk. He was trying, at least.

"Pilot, how much further?"

The pilot's voice was a rasp over the scrambled comms, the only clear reply being a curse and thud as he slammed the transmitter. "Rendezvous in sight," came the muffled shout from the cockpit, "prepare for landing."

Dust and ash plumed as the shuttle sunk to the road. The shelled street was without a flat stretch for miles and the shuttle landed with a tilt. Cara and legionnaires Marc and Dun'tak hopped from the vehicle while Hubrin stayed behind. The legionnaires stayed at her side as they all hiked over rubble and debris, making it close to the entry of the makeshift communication center before the garble of a voice echoed on Marc's comm.

//:Se-d HE-l-lp://
​

Marc and Dun'tak shot a glance to the doctor, her expression having gone rigid as she heard the message. She nodded the silent command, giving them their leash. They fell in together in martial harmony, both legionnaires framing the doorway as Marc grabbed a flashbang while Dun'tak counted down with three raised fingers.

Can't say I didn't try it.

One...

But conflict is reality, thus inescapable.

Two...

Maybe next-- Her eyes went wide. Broadcast and receiver systems weren't the only tech she sensed inside.

Three.

"Wait-!"

The legionnaires were already in motion, the door activating and Marc tossing the flashbang. The two of them broke through the residual smoke and made a sweep of the room, unaware of what lingered inside. Cara stood motionless with hand outstretched, stunned as the true reality revealed itself. Gravel crunched beneath her sole as she slid a footstep back, followed by another, and one more. Her senses confirmed it yet she refused to believe, and with sudden awareness she was tracking the electric jabber of her legionnaire's status. She was waiting, listening to every beat of their heart as a blip in their armor's life support.

"Three bodies, two legion one tech. Sweeping for survivors."

She didn't--couldn't-- respond, stuck in an in-between of denial and shock. A phantom ache rose in her neck, its mechanical sheets seeming to tighten as she remembered... It.