Okay people, I'm back. A lot of stuff happened that kind of kept me from writing. Firstly, I started other stories (not self-advertising). Secondly, I got my first job (if you hadn't figured it out, I'm in high school still). Lastly, I've been a little depressed for a while, and just needed to figure some stuff out in my life. Anyways, enjoy.

The cell James Williams was confined in was like none he had ever seen. A strange light blue glass barrier kept him from rushing out, and the cell itself was all white, excluding the solitary black stripe that stretched across its walls. No bed or toilet occupied the cell. It was a glorified box.

Around him, there were captured Umbarans who seemed to be at ease in their cells. Some were meditating while others just stared at the wall. There was only one sentry watching them. He strolled past the prisoners, occasionally stopping to examine one.

To cope with the rising sense of boredom and impending doom, James began to hum the tune to House of the Rising Sun.

"Shut up traitorous scum!" the guard yelled.

"Blow me bucket head."

The guard glared at him before resuming his rounds. Despite being stuck beneath the actual airfield, James could hear the ongoing space battle above. Loud cracks and explosions thundered in the sky, nothing more than small pops beneath the hum of electricity running through the building.

Deciding that he had nothing better to do, the American laid his head down on the cold metal floor and fell asleep. The jungle was waiting for him. Images of a man with camo paint on his face surfaced. Only part of his head, his eyes and up, was visible, the rest lay hidden beneath murky water. His eyes twitched uncontrollably. The faint churning of a patrol boat's engines and the sounds of drums echoed through the trees, until finally, purple smoke appeared, and everything exploded with flame.

James woke up with a start. Sweat dripped down from his head in thick beads as his pulse thundered in his chest. His head slightly whirled and his thoughts were a jumbled mess that brought the phrase shit show to mind. Finally recovering, he got up off of the floor and began to walk along the cell's boundaries. There was literally nothing interesting he could do, and he sure as hell was not going to try meditating in this place. He had yet another reason to want to murder Krell. That gutless motherfucker!

After about an hour, a new batch of people joined the imprisoned. Much to his surprise, it was Fives and another clone. They said nothing, barely moving, until they were forced into their own holding cell.

"Fives, what the hell are you doing here?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

More silence.

"Come on man, say something?"

"He's gone," murmured Fives.

"Who?"

"Hardcase," the other clone said.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. He was a good soldier." I suck at this shit. You could have said something better.

The days as a prisoner blurred thereafter. It wasn't until the second day that Fives began to slowly go back to his normal self. Even then, the death of Hardcase still affected him as well as the other clone, which James learned was called Jessie. However, on the fifth day, the time for the execution came. Saying nothing and holding his head high, the American was led out of his cell and to his impending death. Fives and Jessie accompanied him. Three men prepared to die by firing squad.

When they reached the spot of their execution, an uninteresting wall, the clones lined up and took aim. James closed his eyes and tuned out everything; his thoughts drifting back to the woman that held his heart. Sorry Shaak. I lo…

He was jolted from his thoughts he felt his hands being unshackled. Fives was smiling.

"What in the name of God did you do?"

"Got us freed. You're welcome asshat." James grinned back, relief washing over him as he heard the clone swear. American curses had become rather common among the 501st since Patriot Squad's arrival. Finally freed, Williams watched a few familiar faces arrive carrying his gear and weapons. Trigger and Clubs were the front runners of the group, followed shortly by Captain Rex and a few others.

"Good to have you back sir," the two green clad clothes said.

"Glad to be back boys," James responded, taking his helmet in his hands and looking at it for a moment. Rage and Love were still written on the back.

"James, gather your men together, we need to get moving," the Captain said, skipping the pleasantries and getting straight to business.

"Why?"

"We're going to hunt down Krell."

Nodding, Sergeant Major James Williams fixed his helmet on his head and gave the Captain a salute.

Let the fun begin.