PROLOGUE:
The blaster fire came from every direction; there were flashes of blue and red and green, lightsabers and bullets and sparks. One would fall, and two more droids would be there to take its place. It seemed to be like this every time, at every battle.
The planet's surface was completely desolate – the sky was a metallic grey, and the ground was glinting metal. There were no inhabitance, and it was perhaps the only planet in the galaxy with no other resembling it. But here, no one owned the land. Here, there were no civilians to be killed with friendly fire. It was just them, and the Separatists.
Or so they had thought.
Explosions blasted from both sides, screams of pain echoing across the open expanse. Red and orange and yellow, bursting into the lifeless, colorless sky.
When the surface had begun melting, it was too late. Clones and clankers alike were pulled down, slipping into an endless chasm of iron and steel. Smoke billowed high, and fire continued to burn away at the ground – turning it to silver liquid that collapsed in on itself.
Men fell, one by one ripped from the battle, and into the planet's core.
A/N: I have this all plotted out, but I have yet to write it. In fact, this is dedicated to the wonderful RubbleStrength, who, for the first time in forever - doesn't actually know where I'm going with this. Because it's a surprise. And a gift. Voila.
I hope you enjoyed it, and might wish to give any feedback!