First of all, one of the reviewers pointed out a problem with my dating in the last chapter, so I went back and fixed that so that it wasn't during EW1. Thanks for the heads up, I totally missed that.

Originally, this was two chapters, but I decided to split them because it was getting so long. So, the second part should come soon. Also, I'm renaming the story.

Nick was dimly aware of people yelling and screaming. He felt his forehead, which felt like he'd spent the day in front of a pair of speakers. He rolled over raising his hand to the light spilling from the open door. There was blood on it, but not too much.

"Nothing lethal." He thought. It was only then that the significance of the light shining down from above hit him. The door to the freight car was above him. "What hit us?"

Nick hauled himself up, grabbing the revolver from his belt as he did. Around him, his squad was coming to. The wounded were being tended and Nick saw Sam using the butt of her rifle to smash through the damaged wooden sides.

"Looks like a lancer sir." She said, looking through one of the cracks. "Terrain's not suitable for anything else."

"No Tanks? An advance squad?"

"Special Ops more likely." She answered. "I just glimpsed them, and they're already hidden again. Well trained. Probably sent ahead to disrupt communications and supplies."

"Ah, the same job we have."

"Sir," Sam said, dragging him back to reality as she dodged a shot from a sniper. "We have to eliminate them. Our mission relies on secrecy. If they get away, they'll bring the entire Imp Army down on us."

Nick nodded. "Agreed. How many are out there?"

"Dunno, they've definitely left a pinning force though. Snipers and scouts. Looks like Lancers have moved out, or they would have hit us again." She turned around and grabbed a pair of soldiers from the mess. "You two, what are your names?"

"He's Andrew and I-I'm Gabrial." Gabriel whispered, eyes wide as he coughed on smoke. Though the woods around them were quiet, they all knew more Imperials were out there, waiting. On the sloping ridges and the thick underbrush, the Imperials had the advantage in cover and angle.

"Sami, you and these two run a distraction. I'm going to get the rest of the squads in the cars moving."

"Right sir." She said, smashing through the splintered wood with one final swing. "I'll see you in a bit." With that, she turned, and opened up with her machinegun on the tree line, spraying it with bullets while Gabriel and Andrew rolled out, rifles already scanning for signs of enemy movement. From somewhere up in the brush sniper fire lanced out, barely missing the pair and punching holes through thing wooden walls.

Nick grabbed a few more soldiers, including a young woman with black hair and a Mag hanging from her shoulder. She had cold, dead eyes that made her look ruthless and cruel. "Help me get through this wall!" He ordered. "We've got to check on the other soldiers." The group nodded, and the girl with dark hair turned to the wall, leaning her face against it.

"Anyone on the other side, clear the way." She took a step back, turned her mag onto the wall, and opened up. The bullets chipped through the wood, spraying splinters across the destroyed freighters until a small hole was carved into the wall. Nick stuck his head in; careful to not expose himself, and then stepped in. The two cars were close enough to do so without exposing themselves to fire. This freighter ha obviously taken the brunt of the explosion. Men and women were scattered across the floor, wounded or dead. There was a gaping hole in the side where the lance explosive had hit, and the other side of the car had also been blown open.

Nick walked forward, keeping his back to the wall and his head undercover. "Trooper!" He whispered urgently to the black haired girl. "What's your name?"

"Jane." She said, not looking at him, already locking a clip into her mag. Her eyes were scanning the forest lining through the explosions hole. "Jane Turner."

"Listen Jane, a lot of these people are injured. I want you to start moving them to the other freight car since it has more cover." The woman nodded, and waved one of the men forward while she scanned the tree line with her mag. Two scouts stepped forward, and began dragging a badly burned trooper across the line of fire.

The air cracked with rifle fire, and one of the scouts fell, clutching his shoulder. The other scout dropped the man and jumped back, just in time to dodge a second shot from the tree line. Jane opened up with her mag, trying to pin the snipers down. The bullets whizzed harmlessly into the tree line.

"Damn Imps!" She roared as she reloaded. "Those snipers are using our wounded to drag us into the open." She cursed brutally, spitting in the snipers direction before another sniper's bullet forced her to duck again.

"Nobody move!" Nick ordered, readying his revolver. "Until those snipers are taken down, we can't move them." Nick leaned against the wall, sticking his head out every once in a while. The snipers were out there somewhere, but none of them had the range to bring them down. It was only a matter of time before they caught their small band.

"And the wounded sir." Jane said, a wild look on her face.

"We can't risk more of us being wounded." Nick reasoned, "And we don't have any long range firepower here at the moment."

"There were two snipers in this car." She yelled over another series of rifle cracks. "Where are they?"

Oscar woke looking up at the sky, spread-eagled as if he'd been relaxing on a warm sunny day. Of course, a second later, the ping of a bullet whizzing of a wheel of the overturned train car snapped him back to reality. He rolled onto his back, surveying his surroundings. Their car had taken a direct hit from the explosive, whatever it was, and was now destroyed.

He didn't jump to his feet, knowing that would just draw attention to his predicament. Instead, he carefully felt for his rifle, and pulled it close to him. Whoever was sniping, they hadn't shot at him yet. Probably thought he was dead.

"Mistake." Oscar thought, cracking a small smile. Oscar closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly, listening. It was quiet, except for the occasional rat-tat of a mag or the pop of a rifle. Then he heard it. The sharp crack of a sniper rifle. "To my left, up eight degrees."

Oscar twisted, turning onto his belly and bringing his rifle up to his shoulder in one smooth motion. There, he saw a sniper, desperately reloading his rifle. Oscar centered it on the man's helmeted head, gently cradling it with the sights. He squeezed the trigger, and the man fell back, the metal from his helmet crumpled.

Oscar loaded another bullet into the chamber, jumped to his feet and leapt forward, rolling into the cover of the tall foliage. The position he'd been lying before was suddenly lit up by sniper fire, throwing dirt and sand into the air. Oscar, popped his head out, and saw about four scouts and one pair of snipers in cover just beyond the tree line. He had two shots left in his rifle before he'd need to reload.

"Might be a problem." He said to himself. "I'd have to hit three at least at a time. Impossible." Still, the snipers were the ones that had the squad pinned down at the train tracks. If he could just take them out.

Oscar felt the scar on his forehead, remembering that day. He reached for the red handkerchief hanging from his belt, feeling it between his hands. Rage suddenly boiled up in him, enveloping, protecting him, and he jumped from the bushes with steely resolve. He swung his rifle, drawing a bead on the first sniper. They hadn't noticed him just yet. His rifle cracked, and one of the snipers fell, followed swiftly by another. He ducked back down into the bushes as volleys of fire from the scouts shot towards him.

"Now the scouts will move forward and out flank me." He mused, grabbing his ammo bag. He could try to reload, but the scouts would reach him before he was ready. They knew he only had three shots per magazine, and that once they got close, he would be helpless.

A sudden anger surged through him as he saw the scouts rushing forward, eager to kill him. Oscar grabbed a knife from his boot, wrapping it in the cloth and leapt into the open. He roared, charging the scouts, who stopped in surprise. For a second, they didn't fire, but soon recovered and raised their rifles.

There was a series of cracks from rifles, and Oscar stopped. One of the scouts fell, clutching his chest where several bullet holes had appeared in his armor. One scout turned just in time to see a dark haired trooper leap at him, the hatchet in her left hand smashing his helmet. He fell back, his helmet split open, as Jane kicked his legs out from under him.

The remaining three scouts turned to shoot her; one was killed by a red haired woman firing a heavy mag-132 walked silently out of the brush, and another by a crack from a sniper rifle. Oscar's head turned, looking for the source of the shot. He finally found it, in a tree about ten feet above his head and twenty yards to his right.

"Hi Oscar." Catherine O'Hara waved down at him, as she lined up a second bead on the final soldier. She didn't fire though, instead simply keeping an eye on the final scout as he raised his arms in surrender. The rest of their squad had appeared now, at least, those who could walk, and had surrounded the lone scout. A young man in a grey sweatshirt and jeans stepped forward, talking to the man. Then, he nodded to Jane, who stepped forward and kicked the man to his knees.

Nick knew that Sam had been right, that the Imperial unit was part of a special squad sent ahead of a main invasion force. They were obviously a well trained squad. They'd managed to pin down and destroy almost all of his own squad. Plus, he knew that this was only half the squad. They'd been attacked by lancers, which his men had been unable to find. The rest of them had no doubt retreated, warning the main force.

He looked now at the captured scout, who had removed his helmet. He was a strapping young lad, with short curly, straw colored hair that was matted with sweat. His hazel eyes were wide in fear, but contained fear. The boy was obviously well trained to control himself.

"You are the advance force for an Imperial invasion." Nick stated. It wasn't a question. "You're going to tell us where they are."

"I will do no such thing." The boy spat. "I am Lieutenant Forde of the Empire's 30th Mechanized division."

"Okay, let me restate your options." Nick waved Jane forward, who was wiping her hatchet clean of blood and gore. "You tell us the precise location, numbers, and composition of the enemy force, or I let Jane here have a go at you." The woman smiled, her dark hair falling over her eyes as she smiled down at him. "She absolutely loathes Imperials. Don't quite know why though…"

"You destroyed the shop I worked in." Jane murmured coldly. "Filthy Imps killed everyone."

Nick looked sideways at her. "Well, that explains another one of these soldiers hatred."

"I'd tell her if I were you. Jane has a…Sadistic streak." The soldier looked down at the ground. He knew there was no lie in Nick's voice, and he knew what his only chance was. He was a loyal Imperial soldier, but loyalty only went so far.

"The Imperial Army is advancing across northern Gallia, but several divisions are cutting into southern Gallia, setting up a base at the Kloden Forest, and others are massing in central Gallia for a major strike at Randgriz." He looked up at Nick, his gaze steady. "We were told this campaign would be finished in a few months at most."

"A quick strike," Nick mused, "is easy to bog down." He nodded at Jane, who grabbed the man from behind, dragging him across the ground. She hurled him away as the rest of the squad formed into a line behind her.

"Wait!" The man yelled, panic rising in his voice. "You said-"

"I said I wouldn't let Jane have you." He waved her away, and she left him there, lying on his knees. "I never said we'd let you go." Nick raised his right hand, making a fist. The Imp scout scrambled to his feet, running from the squad of Gallians. He stumbled as he ran, trying to flee into the woods in his heavy armor.

"Fire."

There was a loud series of cracks as every rifle from the squad went off and the scout's body twitched as the bullets struck him, forcing him first to his knees, then to the ground. Jane strode towads the body, turning him over with her boot.

"Dead." She pronounced, spitting onto his face as she did. Jane holstered her hatchet as she spoke. "What do we do with them?"

"String'em up." Nick ordered, looking around at the men and women. "All of them. We'll show the Empire what happens when you mess with Gallia."

Zytreet was a man better known as Zytreet the Lynx. He'd fought in EW1, and had reenlisted as soon as EW2 began. He was an almost legendary soldier in the Imperial ranks, and had killed hundreds of soldiers over the years. He'd seen things. That was the only way to put it. However, this was something new.

Hours ago, a small detachment of a special ops unit had returned. They claimed to have pinned down a squad of Gallian soldiers on the rail tracks after ambushing the supply train as ordered. They'd retreated with their heavy weapons to bring reinforcements, leaving a small force to keep them pinned down. Zytreet, commanding the special ops detachment, had decided that this was a perfect opportunity to destroy the small Gallian detachment before they could escape.

"It would have been a nice way to begin the war." He thought, pushing one of the hanging bodies out of the way with the tip of his rifle. Somebody had killed his soldiers, hanging their mutilated corpses from the tree boughs. Most hung from their arms, but a few had been hung while still alive. Wounded, and ripped apart while still alive. Zytreet had never seen anything like this, even in his first war. They'd been used for target practice, big targets painted onto their bodies with some type of red paint.

"Some type of a local clay." One of his scouts proclaimed, fingering the paint on one body. He rubbed it off, and began working one of the bodies down.

"They were busy." Zytreet answered, still searching the ground.

Zytreet knelt down, searching and finding tracks in the dirt. "They were here an hour ago." He declared, walking in a crouched position along the trail their foot prints made.

"Yeah." One of his soldiers said, a quiver in his voice. "Corporal, help me get these bodies down." A trooper rushed to the man, letting his rifle hang on a strap over his shoulder, and they began to cut the ropes holding him above the ground.

"Yeah." Zytreet said. "Most of these tracks are going back and forth between the bodies… No wait!" Zytreet whirled, but it was too late.

An explosion rocked the forest, sending splinters through the air like shrapnel as dozens of grenades attached to the tree trunks were activated as the first grenade, hidden on the man's dead body was tripped.

Zytreet dropped to a prone position as the air filled with deadly projectiles. He watched one of his men fall, pierced through the waist by a massive splinter, while another man standing too close to one of the hanging bodies was blown away by a grenade. After a moment, the explosions stopped and Zytreet pushed himself into a crouch, knowing the enemy could have been watching.

One uninjured man ran through the rapidly spreading fire and smoke. "Get your head down!" Zytreet barked irritably. The man obeyed instantly, taking cover next to one of the few intact trees.

"They booby trapped our dead sir." He said, locking a clip into his rifle. "Bastards."

"Clever bastards." Zytreet corrected. "The mutilations weren't just for show; they hid the grenades in their bodies and in the trees, then connected them with wire, so if one went off, they'd all go off." He raised his rifle to his face, scanning through the scope. "Looks like we're clear, but get the men together and have them set up a perimeter. Also, send a runner back to HQ, and tell them one of our advance units has been mauled."

"Yes sir." The man sprinted off, still for scanning enemy sharpshooters. The boy didn't seem to comprehend what type of trap this was. The enemy wouldn't sit anywhere near this type of explosion. No, they were long gone. He turned back to the trail of footprints leading off into the dark woods.

"No, they aren't long gone." The thought grimly, picking up his rifle and following the trail.

Nick took role call. According to Samantha, there were about eleven left in their little squad. Nick and Sami, of course, were there. There was also the pair of snipers Oscar and Catherine O'Hara, who seemed to stick together on the outside of the group. Catherine had evidently survived the explosion of the car, and immediately went back into the fight.

Gabriel and Andrew had survived and were now talking amongst themselves. The two were polar opposites. Gabriel had straw blond hair that he kept buzzed very close to his scalp, while Andrew's hair fell in long strands over his face and back. Gabriel was short, barely coming up to Nick's shoulder, while Andrew seemed to tower over everyone. However, they both seemed to share an extreme hatred of the Empire. They'd certainly taken to the booby traps like fish to water.

There was also Jane, who seemed quiet except when she was killing Imps. It was her idea to hide the grenades inside the bodies, instead of just strapping them to the outside. However, the standing ovation for the trapped belonged to a young woman named Ako. The young girl wore a long, tan jacket that stopped about a foot below her knees, and shorts that stopped above her knees. Her eyes were sharp, but her mind seemed sharper. Her hair however, was short, held back by a blue head band that blended with her dark, almost violet, hair.

She'd come up with the first idea of ambushing them. Of course, her idea involved them staying and, 'Taking all the stinking Imps down with us'. While Nick admitted he shared her enthusiasm, he'd modified the plan a little, so that when the explosions went off, they were miles away.

The final three members of their squad were all injured. Solomon, a scout, had lost his left green eye to the enemy shrapnel. He'd wrapped it in cloth from his kaki jacket, wrapping around his face and through his shaggy brown hair. He was helping Ash to walk on a shattered ankle.

Ash was, as his name suggested, a very tan man who looked as though he'd been rolling in dust half his life. More than that, he looked as though his very skin had taken on the color of sand. Supposedly, he came from one of the deserts to the south, but Nick knew that couldn't be the whole story as, besides the skin, he looked nothing at all like one of the desert folk.

Finally, there was Shaitel. He was nursing a badly burned arm that he worried wouldn't work again. He'd been a doctor before the war, and had been called out in order to serve as a medic to Squad 8 in Spec Ops. The old man had once had a rather long beard, but most of it had burnt off during the attack, along with most of his chin. He had refused to wrap it, insisting that they saved bandages for injuries that could be healed. Occasionally, he would actually scratch it, hitting bone. In a group of men and women who didn't flinch much, he seemed to make them uneasy.

"All right people." Nick said after a brief rest. "We'll set up camp here. Now, anyone know where we are?"

"You don't?" Ako asked with a touch of sarcastic humor.

"Well, having the train we were riding blown out from under me and then having to run several miles through the wilderness with Imperial Army units on our trail...Kinda turned me around." There were grim laughs from the circle of soldiers. They shifted slightly, all of them seeming a little more alive.

"We should make for the nearest town." Andrew said, surveying the woods. "We'll get supplies there and maybe directions."

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "Assuming it isn't occupied."

"More Imps the better." Oscar murmured, cleaning his disassembled rifle with that red rag he always kept at his side. Jane grunted in approval at his comment.

Nick surveyed them all, trying to get a bead on who they all were. He knew they all had reasons for hating the Empire, but he didn't know what they were. So, he decided to ask.

"When, I was given this command," He began, "I was told you were all specially recruited for the fact that you have an extreme hate for the Empire. So, I'd like to know why you do."

There was silence, and then all of them laughed grimly. Catherine grinned, and nudged Oscar, who didn't smile back.

"Seems to me," Catherine said, after ignoring the glare Oscar gave her, "That you're trying to turn a botched mission into a summer camp moment." She turned her head, smiling at the circle of soldiers. "Jane, Ako; want to go paint our nails and talk about boys while the guys roast marshmallows." Ako laughed while Jane simply scowled angrily at the ground. Most of the squad shared a small chuckle before lapsing into silence again.

"Seriously though." Nick continued, looking each of them in the eye as the light faded. "Why do you fight?"

Like I said, next chapter is already written. My internet connections just so finicky that I never know when I'll have it. Should be soon though.