Aldura, Ardent City Outskirts, 19BBY

ARC-1247's gloved hands gripped the handle above him as the gunship rocked and bucked. Other soldiers stood around him, appearing blank and unscathed in the dim troop compartment. An explosion flashed through the slits in the door to his right, and the gunship buckled, but stayed its course. Fragments of shells and debris clacked against the walls. A red light suddenly blinked on, confirming 1247's observations.

"Fifteen!" An intercom above them announces. "The incoming's too heavy to enter the city, so I'll be settin' you down outside!" With another tremor, 1247 rocks but remains on his feet, the Westar M5 strapped to him tugging him down. Remember: Help out the regulars, but don't hesitate to leave 'em behind if they drag you down. The ARC is wrenched out of his thoughts with another quake. "Ten!" The doors of the LAAT/i slid open, and the fires dotting the fields below them flared against Aldura's grey skies. Overcast. Won't be too surprising to get rain. 1247 analyzed. "Five!" The gunship gradually grew closer to the ground as it raced toward the city entrance, where AT-TE units and several platoons of infantry were positioned. 1247 could decipher billboards on the city's buildings when they finally touched down. "Go, go!" Every soldier inside the gunship jumped out, and was quick to join the ground forces. ARC-1247 slipped his Westar's strap from his shoulder and held it as he ran across one of many duracrete highways connecting the city to others, like a spider web.

At the city entrance, an AT-TE stood on the right flank, slowly advancing, and another stood just ahead in the center. Several clone squads were positioned in rubble, craters, and behind crates, surrounding the walkers. 1247's companions dispersed among the infantry, but he stood in the center of the street, behind the front line. The enemy had just retreated, but the Republic soldiers stood firm at the entrance until it could regroup. Wounded men and several medics sat crowded inside what used to be a hotel, exposed by a completely flattened front wall, the emptiness stretching to the second floor. Ammo caches were set on the sidewalk, oversaw by a relatively unscathed trooper under a grey tarp bearing the Republic insignia. A blank clone whose armor bore ash and burns had sat against a crate in the ammo caches, talking to another tattered trooper seated next to him. The clone overseeing the ammo glanced at 1247, tapped one of the two troopers, and pointed at the ARC, murmuring something.

"Look at that, Drone, one of the deluxe snowflake models has decided to join us." The trooper seated closest to 1247 hissed.

"Maybe he's come to discipline you, one-four." The clone next to him joked. 1247 glared at 14 for a second before confronting him.

"This deluxe snowflake model might just have to if you can't hold that tongue." 1247 threatened, with every ounce of authority and calmness of a Jedi General.

"Oh... You could hear that, Sir? I didn't mean to offend you..." 14 lied. The ARC gazed at him for a short time. A clone commander then joined them under the tarp.

"One-five, what's our ammo situation?" The officer questioned in his tenor voice. 15 closed a munitions box and stood up from behind the crates, revealing himself.

"We don't have enough to stay here long term, if that was your plan, Sir." He reported with a slight accent. "Those attacks have been eating up our 15S rounds fast, and we're already low on thermal dets. If only Drone could aim a little better, then he'd make them count."

"My aim's just fine, Nil." Drone argued. 15 cleared his throat, and stared down at Drone. "Sergeant Nil." Drone corrected himself, before promptly adding, "Sir."

"Well, reorganize the ordinance, and get me a headcount. In the meantime," The commander turned his helmeted head to 1247, "I'll be debriefing this fine soldier." He gestured for 1247 to follow him, before walking around the ammo dump and entering the storefront behind it. The ARC followed him into a restaurant with a dull white glow from above, and multiple tables flipped over. They sat down at a table that was still arranged, brushed some rubble off of it, and got to business.

"So, what's your name? You're important, right?" The commander wondered. 1247 set his rifle down, leaning it against his chair.

"ARC-1247, Sir. I'm just a trooper, not too important. We're all the same degree of expendable down here eh?"

"You got a nickname?"

"No Sir. My squad leader's a hardass about protocol."

"Where is the rest of your squad?" A weak scream slipped out of one of the wounded men across the ravaged street. 1247 turned his head, but the commander didn't seem to think anything of it.

"All differently assigned. Our ranks got thinned out after our last mission, and we're so small now that command decided to split us up. They put me here to reinforce you lot in capturing the city." For the first time, 1247 had not told the whole truth. He thought it better not to tell the regulars about his other objective, Cal Vois.

"I see. Well." The commander shifted and got up, "Get some sleep if you need it, we move out in two hours standard." He strode out of the building and returned to a completely wrecked building the garrison had converted into a comms center. 1247 decided to take a short nap in a little while. He slung his gun over his shoulder and left the restaurant. Outside, he saw most of the troops getting comfortable out on the street. Aldura was currently in its summer months, so sleeping outside wouldn't be too bad.

"Ey, Snowflake, did the commander confess his feelings for you in there or what?" 14 pressed.

"Don't call me that or I will break your legs." 1247 didn't mean it, but if it would get 14 to shut up, he'd say it.

"Sorry, 14 gets irritable when people are better than him." Drone explained, nudging the grumpy trooper next to him. 1247 realized these were the only troopers in the bunch he knew at all, and he decided he'd sit with them tonight. Better than with strangers, or alone. I hope.

"Alright, how about I call ya Snowball?" 14 dared. Snowball sat down next to 14, pressing his back against some kind of ordinance box and setting his rifle just next to him.

"Shinies." Snowball groaned in acceptance.

"Hardly. Snowball." Nil countered, as he lowered to his belly on the other side of the group, still under the wide tarp. The Sergeant took his phase 2 helmet off, revealing a face identical to Snowball's, save for a tattoo that read, 'The Fine Game' and nestled his head into his arms crossed in front of him.

"I'm gonna take a nap now, I've wasted a lot of ammunition today. Night Snowball." Drone mumbled, freeing his face as well. 14 and 1247 did the same, and set their buckets on the crates next to the others'.

"Hey, one-four. Didn't catch your nickname." Snowball whispered.

"They never gave me one." The soldier answered, his closed eyes unmoving.

"How about 'Sassy?' Sound good?"

"Mm, no."

"Do you even want a nickname?"

"If we were supposed to have names, we wouldn't all have serial numbers." 14's face donned indifference.

"Well, if you're fine with just being a number I suppose I'll let you have that but it looks like I'm stuck as Snowball." Scarce raindrops began to fall onto the tarp above them, but not enough to bring any men to sleep in shelter.

"Night Snowball." 14 smiled. 1247 leaned forward to see everyone else's eyes closed. He leaned back and followed suit. He'd have a long day ahead.