-Chapter 1: A Quiet Debut-

Location: Christophsis, Crystal City

"What happens in the shadows, stays in the shadows."

The orders were simple: kill anyone who is not a Separatist. Of course, that may have been a slight exaggeration. But the general idea remained the same.

Here on Christophsis, all-out war had consumed the planet. The strife that had slowly enveloped the galaxy had finally come here. It was a war between men and machines.

But he, a man, fought with the machines.

He had been charged with eliminating their enemies, as many as he possibly could. They did not care for how he did it, they just wanted it done. He had to assume that the doctor had hyped up his abilities to a degree where high command was not worried about how he would perform. This was his first real mission. The simulations, the training, the lessons... none of it compared to real life. Everything he had learned, everything he had been engineered to be was supposed to manifest here on the battlefield.

If he did not make a good impression... well, the consequences were far from his mind.

He was under Whorm Loathsom's command. It was to him he would communicate opportunities to strike, once he had provided the openings. The Republic forces had managed to break through the Separatist naval blockade, meaning Whorm Loathsom was the only Separatist preventing the Republic forces from capturing Christophsis. This new soldier was to go behind enemy lines, assassinate as many Clones as possible and wreak havoc to provide Whorm a chance at victory. The Separatist forces had yet to attack, giving him an ample opportunity to thin the Republic forces before they went on the offensive.

He would be alone. Nothing to rely on except his handguns, knives and training.

Hiding behind a pile of supply crates, his blue-grey coat happened to blend in nicely with his surroundings. He listened carefully, observing the dull chatter as Clones milled about, preparing for an attack of some sort. Having memorized the markings and insignias of every rank, the soldier peered out from behind his cover, two blood-red eyes scanning every inch of his surroundings.

Silently watching. Silently waiting.

He found his first victim. A sergeant, given the markings on his armor. Perfect. An opportunity to hit the chain of command. Drawing a knife, he began to stalk his prey. He quietly stuck to the shadows, creeping along just as he had been taught to do. The shadows cast by the many crystalline formations around the area, common on Christophsis, made for excellent cover. The trooper continued to walk away, unaware he had a stalker. As soon as the soldier was certain they were alone, and that no one was looking, he struck. Sprinting from the shadows, the unsuspecting Clone was aware of a shadow moments before a knife was buried in his neck. As quickly and quietly as he had appeared, the soldier grabbed his victim and pulled him back into the shadows from whence he had come. He held his victim down, pulling his knife from the trooper's neck and slitting his throat, ensuring complete silence.

His first kill.

The blood was contained to the shadows, no one would notice until they started looking. Sheathing his knife, the soldier quickly left the premises to remain unseen. In addition to his orders to kill, he was also commanded with remaining hidden, remaining a secret. Should anyone spot him, they were to receive a quick death. Sprinting out into the open, the soldier quickly disappeared inside of a building. Hoping to avoid detection, he found the first stairwell and began to climb. Behind enemy lines, Clones could be anywhere. He needed the advantage. He needed to climb this building and scan his surroundings, not only getting a good understanding of the terrain but also determining troop movements and locations where he could strike next. After he had climbed up to the sixth floor, voices from the floor above made him stop. He crouched low on the stairs and carefully listened.

"All this trash everywhere... why'd we get stuck on clean up duty?"

"General's need somewhere to stow their gear and our supplies. These buildings are clear and they need us to sweep the rooms... just in case."

"Well, I'd rather be out there."

"It's the prep phase, nothing's happening for a while."

Seems like a pair of Clones were checking the building. Perfect. They wouldn't be missed.

The soldier quietly padded up the stairs, gingerly watching his step to avoid making a noise that would alert them to his presence. Arriving at the floor, he quickly scanned the hallway, deeming it empty. Hopefully these would be the only two in the building. He'd have to be careful from now on. He tracked the voices to a room on his right and quickly dashed to the doorway, kneeling as he peered around the corner. Sure enough, two clones in matching plain white armor were walking and talking, carrying on their investigation and quest for storage space. The soldier quietly drew both his knives, one still carrying blood from the sergeant he had assassinated. Creeping into the room, both troopers were oblivious to his presence. Breaking into a sprint, the soldier charged ahead before leaping towards the unsuspecting Clones. He tackled them both, bringing them to the ground. Their blasters clattered across the ground as they were flung form their hands. Having landed on his knees, the soldier was in the perfect position to kill them as he raised his knives above his head and drove them through the backs of their helmets, small spurts of blood coating his knives. He kept still for a moment, holding his weapons in the trooper's heads as they twitched before going still. Ensuring they were dead, the soldier removed his knives and twirled them in his hands before sheathing them. The Separatist rose slowly, adrenaline rush dying down as he mentally celebrated his second and third kills. He could get used to this rush. But he had to stay focused, he needed to learn about his opponents. Fortunately, there was a large window in this room that provided him with an ample view of the Republic camp. Initially, he was impressed with the vast setup the Republic had constructed. But the multiple mobile cannons by their front lines quickly grabbed his attention. It seemed likely that Whorm was unaware of their presence. This was information that he needed to know. The soldier contemplated his next course of action as he took time to memorize the base layout. Should he stay and follow his orders? Or should he inform his current commander of the development?

Perhaps, he reasoned, he could do both. Kill a few Clones on his way back to base. He'd have to take the long way home, but the tempting thought of even more kills justified the plan in his mind.

He left the building as quickly as he had come and snuck back out onto the streets, keeping to the shadows. He was thankful the sun was in the position it was, to cast such long shadows. He broke into a run, quickly moving between ruined and abandoned buildings as he ran through the quiet streets, the busyness of the Republic base growing quieter behind him. The bombed-out buildings, made so by numerous Separatist bombing runs, cast long shadows across the streets, bleeding together until the sun was only visible at the right angle.

His cover was not as useful as it once was.

The Republic base was out in broad daylight, the shadows contrasting the sunlight and providing a hiding place. But here, shadows were common. Anyone could be here and he was no longer so hidden.

As he was thinking these thoughts, he came across a rubble-strewn square. And a patrolling squad of four Clone troopers. Scouts no doubt. One of them looked up and saw him as he slid to a halt.

He had been found.

"Hey you!" The trooper shouted, causing his comrades to look. They could all see him. The grey helmet, red optical visors, blue jacket and obvious Separatist emblem.

"Where do you think you're going, Seppie?" One of them asked as they all trained their blasters on him. Beneath his helmet, the soldier began to quickly evaluate his situation. Scattered chucks of building materials lay between him and the patrol; could be cover if necessary. Should he use his knives again, or make use of his blaster pistols? Either way, this was a fight he could win, if he fought smart.

"Not much of a talker, are ya?" Another Clone spoke up as the Separatist slowly reached for his knives. He'd get to use both weapons today.

"Ah ah ah, hands where we can see 'em!" A Clone ordered. The soldier ignored him and began to slowly pull his knives from their sheaths, bloody as they were. "Hey, what'd I just say?" The trooper powered up his blaster as the soldier quickly slid the blades into his hands, holding them by the tips.

"Hey, he's got blood on them!" A Clone pointed out.

"Oh, a right regular killer, eh?" A Clone the soldier deemed the group leader stepped forward. "Here's how this is gonna work Seppie: you drop those knives and come with us nice and quiet like." The Clone stated, expecting the soldier to follow his commands. Instead, the Separatist calmly calculated the necessary speed and strength he was going to need in a few moments. "Now drop 'em!" The Clone ordered again. But the soldier flicked his arms forward, throwing both his knives with quick precision. The blades arced through the air and were promptly buried in the Clone's neck. Blood sprayed from the severed veins as the trooper sputtered, a hand quickly clutching the wound in his neck. He fell back seconds later, his comrades shocked.

"Woah!" One exclaimed incredulously. But the Separatist was already moving, dashing towards the remaining three with kills five through seven on his mind. The Clones quickly opened fire, blue blasters streaking past the advancing Separatist. Hands reaching for his belt, the soldier grabbed his pistols and pulled them out, firing a quick volley of shots that peppered one trooper, killing him before he hit the ground.

Kill number five.

One of the Clones fired a lucky round that ripped through the Separatist's arm. Grimacing as pain shot through his arm, forcing him to drop his weapon, the soldier aimed his remaining pistol and fire a trio of retaliatory shots. The Clone was knocked back, but not killed. Dropping his weapon, the soldier quickly lunged at the still standing Clone, tackling him to the ground. But the Clone managed to throw him off and quickly picked himself up. Analyzing his situation, the soldier realized he'd have to end this battle without weapons. Good thing he had been trained in more than one martial art. Standing up, the Separatist readied himself as the Clone came running at him. A mistake realized too late when the Separatist delivered a hard kick to the gut followed by a pair of brain-rattling punches to the helmet. The Clone was stunned, attempting to shrug off his daze he left himself wide open for the Separatist soldier to attack. Lunging forward he drove a knee straight to the Clone's chin followed by and overhead elbow smash to the top of the helmet. Dropping to the ground, the Clone was too stunned to rise up as he slowly recovered from the heavy hits. But his slowness was all the soldier needed as he reached down and crushed his neck.

Kill number six.

The Clone he had shot earlier had made his way back to his feet, three charred spots on his white chest piece. It was time to end this. Looking around and seeing the dead bodies of his friends, the trooper growled as he rolled his shoulders,

"Now you're gonna pay!" He threatened. But the Separatist was unthreatened as he began walking towards his final victim. The Clone raised his fists defensively, forgetting his blaster, "Come on, I can take ya!" He challenged. Stopping in place, the Separatist beckoned the Clone forward with a simple gesture. Needing no further invitation, the Clone rushed ahead, ready to strike. But as he threw his first punch, the soldier sidestepped, grabbing his arm. Downing the trooper with a swift kick to the back of the knee, the soldier followed up by twisting the trooper's arm and promptly dislocated the shoulder. Crying out in pain, the Clone looked up into the blood-red visor of his opponent. "Who are you?" He wondered, moments before the soldier ended his life with a kick to the exposed throat.

Kill number seven.

Dropping the body of the dead Clone, the soldier paused to examine his battlefield. The four bodies lay strewn across the rubble-filled square, the odd splash of blood decorating of few of the blueish chunks of permacrete. Quickly checking his injured shoulder, the soldier shrugged off any pain and began to collect his weapons. Once his weapons were holstered in their respective places, he broke into a run as he continued back towards the Separatist lines, his first true battlefield growing smaller and smaller behind him.


Upon arriving at the Separatist base, the soldier went straight to Whorm Loathsom to report his findings of Republic mobile heavy cannons being deployed. However, the Kerkoiden general quickly informed the experimental soldier that this information was not new and that he had learned this thanks to a spy in the Republic army. A spy? The soldier hadn't known about another infiltration mission. He made a mental note, reminding himself that before the next time he got involved in a complex mission, he needed to know everything. Had he been wasting his time? His questions remained unanswered as Whorm informed him about their first assault which was to be made very soon. Taking one look at the blaster hole in the soldier's arm, Loathsom ordered him to take up a position at the top of one of the high-rise buildings close to the Republic lines; he was going to be a sniper and provide cover for the assault. Deeming the mission worthy and ignoring the hole in his arm, the soldier collected a sniper rifle from the weapons depot, slung it over his back and took off to perform his new assignment.

As the Separatists began their first assault, the soldier watched from above with great interest through the cross-hairs of his weapon. Hiding out in one of the many high-rise buildings, the Separatist soldier watched the many Clone legions move out to attack the Separatists. Kneeling behind the remains of a wall, the soldier poked his barrel through the rubble to keep his form concealed. Training the scope of his rifle on one of the artillery officers manning the heavy cannons, he aimed his cross-hairs in the dead center of the Clone's chest. Pausing to hold his breath, the soldier squeezed the trigger. The single shot took only a matter of seconds before it slammed into the clone, piercing the armor and killing him instantly. No doubt someone would notice the crumpled body soon, the soldier would have to keep moving if he wanted to avoid being pinpointed... and bombarded. He quickly moved from his crouch and sprinted to the next broken window. Prepping his sniper rifle as he went, he was ready to fire as soon as he arrived at his new position. Remaining concealed behind a corner, the soldier pressed the butt of his weapon into his shoulder as he took aim through a broken pane of glass. His sights found the dead Clone, now surrounded by fellow troopers. He quickly found his new target: a Sergeant. Another to add to his tally. The cross-hairs aligned as the soldier targeted the center of the trooper's helmet. Too busy giving orders and dealing with the situation at hand, the Clone had no idea he had become a target and that death was coming for him. The Separatist soldier pulled the trigger and fired another shot, the crack of gunfire echoed loudly as the Sergeant fell to the ground dead mere seconds later. It was a repetitive assignment: load, point, aim, shoot, repeat. Nor was it an assignment that catered to the soldier's tastes, as he'd rather be up close and personal in the fight. But it was a duty nonetheless. And he was bound by duty. Shifting positions, the soldier decided to focus on the front lines of the fight, training his cross-hairs on a trooper armed with a rotary cannon, the soldier had a clear shot. Holding his breath and pausing to ensure his shot had been aligned perfectly, the soldier squeezed the trigger. Seconds later, his victim was dead. He repeated this process many, many times as the clamor of battle erupted below him, Clones and droids fighting for supremacy over a war-torn world...

The first assault lasted several days, Separatist and Republic forces clashing in a stalemate battle as the body count on both sides began to rise. The soldier remained in his hideout, sniping away the whole time. The chaos of battle provided excellent cover for his attack, allowing him to fire without being noticed. He started keeping a tally, something he could remember and keep himself busy with. He kept his cross-hairs on the forward lines, felling Clones that pushed back against the Separatist advance. The soldier proved the effectiveness of his enhanced stamina as he stayed awake all night, helping his mechanical comrades from above. Through his scope he often spied the Jedi leading the assault, renown generals he had only seen in files. How he wished to be able to fight them himself one day.

After days of fighting, the Separatists pulled back, preparing for a second assault. But even as they left, the soldier remained where he was, high in his perch, watching the Republic scurry about and prepare for the next wave. The soldier believed he had done a great deal to help as he had killed many Clones who would've been operating the heavy cannons. With such armaments on hold, the droid army would have a much easier time in their advance.

But good luck can only last so long.

The second assault saw the Republic break out their heavy weapons. The cannons pounded the droids until they were forced to retreat. Not even the soldier could fell enough Clones to disable the cannons. He was disappointed, but resolved to make up for it. He was all alone high up in his tower, his vantage point providing him with a clear picture of the front lines. But the battlefield had fallen relatively silent, only a few Clones bustled about. He would just have to wait for the next battle. In the meanwhile, he couldn't fire on the Republic without being noticed, so he needed to something else that was worth his time. During his initial foray behind enemy lines, he had planted a simple transceiver that picked up any communication or simple chatter going on in the Republic base and transmitted it to his helmet comms. Setting his rifle down, the soldier used his helmet to cycle through the various bits of chatter the device was picking up. Maybe there was something he could glean that would give Loathsom the advantage.

"Would you look at this..."

"More ammo on the way..."

"Keep those cannons operational, men!"

"Angle up by four degrees!"

Nothing so far. Clones seemed to be a very work-centered lot... dull and boring. Not to mention how similar they all were. Why need an army when you have one? Perhaps the same could be said for droids, but at least they required maintenance to some degree. He continued to cycle,

"The Separatists are holding this section of the city..."

"Hand me that wrench, will you?"

"Blasted droids..."

"Where do they keep coming from?"

"I'm Ahsoka..."

"Move that debris boys!"

"Get me some bacta and a few more rags..."

"Gotta get these tools clean..."

Boring was right. There was absolutely nothing going on. Not even a word about that shuttle he had spied earlier.

The soldier rearmed his rifle, planning on killing a few stray Clones until... until when? His orders were to stay up here, defending the Separatist advance and hindering any Republic efforts to regroup. But where he saw himself needed most was down on the ground, fighting on the front lines. The Republic wouldn't last a chance if he was there! Was this a punishment because he had gotten shot? If it was, he had to be better, he would not stand for being safeguarded so heavily when a simple blast to the arm barely impeded his abilities. He would have to prove himself capable, continually, to his superiors.

Then, his helmet picked up some Separatist chatter,

"Shields are ready, the next force is prepared to move out." The orders were simple. The soldier knew it was time for him to get ready to cover another mass assault. But shields? They had a shield generator capable of covering the whole army?

Clever.

The soldier settled back into position and pointed his cross-hairs at yet another unsuspecting Clone. It was time for another battle...


Unfortunately, the battle was short-lived.

Somehow the Republic had managed to slip not one but two Jedi behind their shield and had disabled it before the Republic lines could be annihilated. The soldier was a little miffed, such an easy and avoidable error! He should've been down there, not high up and sniping. The Jedi would've fallen long before they had reached the shield. Regardless, he was to do as he was told, no disputations. The small shuttle that brought him here was able to lift off and leave the planet before the Republic could close in on him. The soldier's identity needed to remain a secret at all costs. He was returned to his base where Scipio was waiting for him. The first thing the doctor did was transfer all recorded video feeds from the soldier's helmet to a primary system. Having recorded all of his experiment's actions, the doctor could observe and learn from the experiences and determine where the soldier needed to be enhanced and improved. The second thing he did was transfer this data directly to Count Dooku. The two would speak about this later. The third thing he did was strap the soldier into a chair and begin applying an injection of a serum to boost his body and begin healing the wound on his arm. A quick anesthetic knocked him out, leaving Scipio alone with his thoughts. Until Count Dooku contacted him. The old man's form flickered into clarity as he appeared behind Scipio on the holo-table. The scientist quickly turned about as his leader addressed him,

"I have been observing the footage you sent me, doctor," he began, "I must say I am impressed with the effectiveness of your experimental soldier."

"Thank you, Count." Scipio bowed respectfully, "I live to serve."

"Indeed. I see great promise in this creation of yours. He would be a most effective counter to the Republic's Clone army. It is unfortunate we do not have an army of him." Dooku commented.

"Please keep in mind, my lord, that this science is strictly experimental. We know what it can do for one, but not en mass. Nor can he be everywhere at once." Scipio responded. "But I too am impressed with the results, and I hope he may be put to further use."

"You have almost gained an ally in me in that regard." Dooku replied. "I would like to see him deployed further and see an increased use of his abilities. For now, patch him up and make him battle-ready once more. My master has me preoccupied with a greater scheme right now."

"Perhaps I could have him sent to Teth?" Scipio inquired. "His skills could be put to good use countering the Republic offensive there."

"No. Not yet. Make him ready for another time. I will see to it we call upon you." Dooku firmly stated.

"As you wish, my liege." Scipio was disappointed, but respected the wishes of his leader. Dooku's appearance disappeared from the holo-table as Scipio turned back to look at his creation, comatose in the operating chair. Alone in the silent room, Scipio couldn't help but grin. "We've made it, my boy." He said to the unconscious form. "After fifteen years we've done it. Or, should I say, you've done it. You've proved our science true and have made a good first impression on our leaders." Standing straight, Scipio walked to the sleeping form of his soldier. "Now, you must do it again and again and again..." Pausing to consider the future possibilities of his creation, Scipio's grin grew wider. "Time to get to work." He said, more than pleased with himself.