Everything happening before Rex's eyes didn't feel real, and for the first time in his life, the sound of violence made him freeze. He felt like he was watching a holo, and the disconnect made his brain slow to react. All his hard earned reflexes were muffled, ineffective.

Where was the internal brace? Where was the moment of impact, absorption, followed by calm?

The blast didn't shake through him like so many hundreds of times before. It seized him and shook him like a small child.

It was like seeing a monster from his nightmares roar into real life, and he was gripped with the worst kind of fear, the one that came out of the darkness when you had finally put your mind at ease.

What was wrong with him? Had he not heard the sounds of explosives since he was two years old? It was said that even in their vats, unborn Clones were exposed to the sounds of blaster fire, detonators, and the other deafening sounds of war that would make most nat-borns freeze.

It had only taken a few years for him to forget, to become vulnerable to all he had once endured so naturally.

Rex stared. He stared as pieces of the Academy blew upward and sprayed outward. Smoke and fire filled the gaping hole where once there was stillness and order. Rex braced himself for what he knew would come next: the screams.

Hadn't he let those screams roll off him during all the times before? Hadn't they been the screams and cries of those he loved? And yet he had always kept moving. Always kept working. That eternal moment of silence after the blast during which those missing limbs, those who had their ear drums exploded, those who had seen someone else blown apart, hadn't been able to yet find their voices. Waiting for those sounds to come was like waiting for pain to strike after the numbness from a blow.

No. No. I don't want to hear them. Get away. I have to get away.

But Rex couldn't move, he could only stare. Moments turned into seconds. He realized his ears were ringing. His hands were gripping the sniper rifle so tightly that he couldn't feel his fingers. The adrenaline that had long been his key to survival had betrayed him and was instead locking him into place instead of spurring him onward.

Rex's eyes were dry and burning. When had he last blinked? Why wouldn't he move? Why couldn't he get himself to pry his eyes away from the black smoke?

"Clone. CLONE. DO YOU COPY? Fierfek where in the hell is he?"

So his ears were working again. He latched onto the sensation of hearing the words sparking from his comm. Urgency. He needed to move. Move you, di'kut, move.

In a great crescendo of noise, Rex felt all his senses rush back to him. He slammed his Captain's face back into place. He ripped his eyes away from the destroyed building.

"-Clone, you'd better be ready, Murrack is collecting the speeder and he and I will be passing under your sheb any second and we aren't waiting."

Rex was back. He felt relief that was quickly replaced with burning anger. Rook had gone much too far. There were now casualties, probably brothers, and beyond that the whole operation was now thrown to the Sarlacc.

Rex maneuvered himself with difficulty so that his head and torso were now where his legs had been. He threw his rifle up the slope before army-crawling up after it.

I should have known better than to trust anyone insane enough to side with Maul.

Rex heard more yelling coming from his wrist-comm as he hoisted himself back into the apartment and righted himself. He brought his wrist up to his mouth as he secured the rifle over his back and replaced his helmet.

"What in the hell was that shabla stunt? We had a plan. No casualties. Blowing up that Academy won't avenge anyone or anything."

There was no response. Rex growled but say anything else.

Rex burst from the apartment and took a left down the partially enclosed corridor. At the end was a balcony, closed off with railing, and beneath one of the panels was access to the waste systems. Hours ago, Rex had placed the panel slightly askew, so that in this moment he could easily wrench it to the side and slide down the metal ladder.

Rex's helmet had a basic amount of air filtering, but not enough to dampen the smell of stale waste. Luckily, these systems were not in use, but they still carried a strong scent of excrement. Rex darted down the tunnel, his plasteel boots making an awful racket on the durasteel plates.

"Clone, we're on our way. You'd better be in place." Grey's voice sounded shaken.

Rex didn't want to respond. He was furious. But if he didn't respond they might find it an excuse to flee the scene without him, hoping that the data they retrieved would be enough to find their own way off the planet. Or maybe their whole intention had been to make this strike on the Academy. Maybe they didn't want to get off Mandalore after all.

Rex, you blind di'kut.

He had been so eager to occupy himself with a worthy task that he had grown deaf to these risks that were now so blatantly obvious.

"I'm on my way. Only a few meters away from the extraction site." Rex kept his fury caged. The helmet helped. It helped keep his Captain's face on for him. He could show the world a calm exterior; he wouldn't have to fight so hard to keep every expression in check.

Suddenly he was recalling Ahsoka, face to face with him, gently placing her hands on either side of his helmet and slipping it off.

Concentrate.

Rex slowed down as he approached the escape route; a disc of light shining on the floor. It didn't matter where the sun was in the sky, not here in Sundari. The metal plated city cast rays of artificial light everywhere and right now a beam was shooting up into the hole Murrack had cut into the durasteel only a few nights earlier.

Rex approached it and looked down. The drop made his heart lurch. The city was drilled into the uninhabitable surface of Mandalore. It went down miles. Rex couldn't see the bottom.

Rex activated his comm. "I'm here. Let me know when you've reached the coordinates."

A loud mechanical wailing noise disturbed the eerie silence that had fallen after the explosion. Emergency response teams were being summoned. They had to move or risk a fire fight on a speeder.

"You should be here by now. The IRT are on their way, and I don't think they will arrive without a full kit of ways to kill us." Rex could hear the whirring noise of the speeder through the open channel. Murrack grunted in response.

Grey was more helpful. "We'll be beneath you in ten seconds."

That was a lot of seconds when you were trying to outrun death. Rex felt his anxiety crawling up his throat, begging him to move, to do something. Each second was painful, long, and punctuated with the beat of his heart. Finally Rex could hear the approaching speeder.

"We're in position." Grey said.

Rex could see the salvaged Buirk'alor-class police speeder cross into his line of vision. He had to admit that from this distance, the slapdash paint job it had been given really did make it look like it belonged to the Imperial fleet. At least that part of the plan had worked. It stopped midair, twenty feet below him. It was a much longer fall than he would have liked. But he didn't have a moment to utter a complaint. Rex sat on the edge of the make-shift escape hatch and pushed himself into the arms of gravity.

Rex's stomach crashed into his lungs as he plummeted and he couldn't help but let out a yell. He hated falling, and he'd done it far too many times for his liking. He wasn't a commando. He hadn't spent hours training to land onto the surface of planets after flinging himself from an aircraft a few klicks up.

Rex landed on his feet onto the space between the stowage and the back seat, but his legs buckled and his rear took the brunt of the blow. The impact forced a grunt from him. Grey and Murrack turned back to look at him from where they were sitting in the two made no comment, and before Rex had slid his bruised backside into the seat, the speeder lurched forward. He would have done the same if he had been the one driving, but it didn't help his frustration at the two, which felt dangerously pressurized inside him.

Neither Murrack nor Grey commented about what Rook had done.

"We have about ten seconds to get out of sight before the emergency responders show." Rex said.

Murrack scoffed, and Grey said nothing. Rex wanted nothing more than to unleash his tirade of disapproval and annoyance at the lot of them, but didn't want to encourage either of them to make any other stupid descisions.

Murrack drove the speeder downward, following the calculated route that would take them to a crowded economic district. There they could blend in with the masses before quietly driving back to the hangar where Rex's ship was.

Rex, finally situated in the backseat, turned to look back at the smokey situation behind them.

How many brothers did I lose in that blast?

Rex felt anger squeeze inside him like a fist. It was Rook's doing, but seeing as her remains were contributing to the growing black blossom of smoke that loomed behind them, he had to turn his anger elsewhere.

Murrack was the one who told her to do it. But he was also the one that had Rex's data tapes. Rex tightened his fist, but the action didn't accomplish what it used to. He still wanted to lash out, to use violence for his own purposes instead of someone else's. It felt good to think about pummeling Murrack.

It won't do any good. It will just jeopardize the mission.

The sound of whirring engines grew even louder in Rex's ears. The emergency responders had arrived. Rex would have to deal with his inner turmoil later.

"Incoming-"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear them. Make yourself useful, clone, or I'll dump you to make our load lighter."

Ignore him. You don't have to be with him much longer.

Rex had dealt with worse before. He could make it through. He just had to do the job, and then he would have what he wanted, what he needed. That would douse his fury at these shabla Mandos.

Rex took out his rifle and aimed it at the cluster of speeders that were crowding around the smoldering building. He counted eight. Rex noted that each of Imperial-grade Buirk'alor-class speeders were carrying four troopers each. But no, as Rex adjusted his scope on his rifle he realized there was a fifth man where the stowage was supposed to be, gripping an E-web heavy repeating blaster.

Rex felt his stomach drop.

"They've got E-webs."

He had expected a Mandolorian-style parade of troops to chase after what was supposed to have been Rook and her captive, but he hadn't counted on E-webs. And they probably wouldn't have come if it had been a tight-spaced chase through the undercity, as they had planned it to be. But now that there was a Purrgil sized beacon above their terroristic activities, there was no need for the Imperials to use a delicate hand. Any potential captives were dead. The Empire had nothing to lose.

So we get blast to hell.

The only consolation Rex had at that moment was that their shuttle was so far being ignored while the IRT got a grip on the situation. Rex was sure the moment they were spotted they would draw suspicion, even if they were mistaken for an IRT unit at first glance. Why would the emergency team be running away from the scene? Their get away wasn't meant to be under this much scrutiny.

If the real IRT attempted to ping their transponder, they would find that there was no signal coming from their speeder. It wouldn't be hard to put two and two together; a poorly painted police shuttle with no comms, no transponder reading, hurtling away from the scene of the crime. They would be dead in seconds.

"We're not going to make it."

Murrack banged the dashboard with a fist. "And I suppose you have a brilliant plan B? We're following your plan, clone."

Rex ignored him and bit back his argument that if it weren't for Rook, Rex's plan would have been carried out smoothly. But he was Captain of this sorry, surly crew, and Rex would find a way out whether they wanted it or not. Those were his data tapes that Murrack was carrying.

Escaping inconspicuously wasn't an option any longer, neither was fighting. They did have a jetpack. An idea sprang into Rex's mind, one he didn't well like, mainly because of the amount of falling it involved.

Rex stood carefully, and the wind threatened to pull him off balance as he did so. He jammed the butt of his rifle into his armpit and used his other hand to grip the back of Murrack's headrest. Rex pulled himself forward so that his helmet was between the two.

"Get ready to use your jetpack."

Murrack quickly turned his helmeted head towards Rex. "What are you on about? We're nearly out of sight."

"We don't have time to argue. I have a plan and you don't. And you're going to want to stop interrupting, soldier so I can fill you in."

"I'm no solider, meatdroid."

Rex's calm evaporated. Fine. Rex hoped the Mando could react well when falling thousands of meters. He could recover the data tapes from Murrack's corpse if he wasn't as sharp minded as he wanted Rex to believe. "Take Grey and fly when we're out of sight."

Then he fired a bolt into the engine.

The engine caught fire and began to sputter. A cloud of black smoke escaped the engine, as if Rex had cracked a jar of the stuff and it was now running from its prison towards freedom. They all had on helmets of some kind, but the air filters could only do so much. Rex ducked down beneath the cloud, as his position was directly facing the ruined engine.

The speeder went into a nosedive. Murrack and Grey were both cursing and yelling as the plummet began, and Murrack pulled upward on the throttle in an attempt to keep the shuttle from turning over and dumping them. But of course, the controls did not respond.

"Hit the E-flaps!" Rex instructed.

Rex had the plan formed in his mind, now. He dropped the sniper rifle and his hands found the familiar grips of his DC-17s. Earlier, he'd attached his grappling hook just in case, and he was glad for it now. The other two would hopefully figure out what to do with Murrack's jetpack on their own. They were stubborn and insubordinate, but they were used to acting in life or death situations. It was a Mandalorian trait. Rex had it, too.

Murrack punched a dark gray button with a gauntleted fist. There was a sudden jerk as the E-flaps were deployed and Rex felt the shuttle bob in the air as it slowed slightly. They were still falling, but at least they could steer and had more time to think. Rex grunted as he was rocked violently from Murrack's attempts to level out the ship.

" We need to stage it as a crash so they won't come after us. Make it look like the E-flaps are damaged or malfunctioning."

Rex heard complaining and scoffs like the pittering of shrapnel on the ground.

It was like a slap to the face for Rex. "Just do it."

"You realize you've doomed yourself, clone? I can't take three on my jetpack." Murrack said.

Rex leaned in and waved his DC-17 before Murrack's visor. "Grappling hook. I'll be fine as long as you steer us close enough to something I can latch onto."

Despite his frustration, Murrack blessedly listened. He gripped the controls and steered the shuttle into a wide spiral downward. The g-forces pressed against Rex's body uncomfortably, but it was a good decision; they might pick up a bit more speed but this way they could avoid careening straight on into a building. Murrack gently angled their spiral of their speeder so that with each loop, they moved closer to the cluster of buildings to their left. He inched closer and closer, but Rex could feel his hesitation.

It mattered less to the ones using a jetpack if they were in grappling hook range. Rex didn't trust Murrack to take Rex's life into consideration, no matter how crucial Rex was to their escape off Mandalore. Panic settled in his chest, the kind that thrummed alongside the beat of your heart. Death made you scared. That fear could be used to spur you on, or cripple you. Rex had been taught since he could walk that that fear was a weapon, a tool. But there was an icy feeling of uncertainty with his companions that made Rex feel rigid and hesitant.

It was best to get the two Mandos off the shuttle as soon as possible. Rex wanted full control over his chances of survival.

Rex wrenched his head and body around against the g-forces to look behind him at the location of the enemy. He could still see the IRT units, though it was extremely difficult to keep their orientation straight in his mind. Thankfully his HUD was able to give him distance and coordinates, along with their own altitude numbers dropping rapidly. There was a building at a lower altitude between them and the IRT. They were a half a klick from being level with it. Once they fell past it, the building would obscure them from view. That's when they could make their escape.

"Prepare to eject on my mark." Rex felt a hand shove his shoulder and he spun around into the cloud of smoke to see Murrack rising from his seat and gesturing for Rex to move.

Rex crouched and fought against the constant g-force pressure as he carefully shifted himself to be directly behind the pilot's seat. Now that Murrack had left the controls, Rex felt the spiral begin to tighten.

The di'kut didn't lock the steering in place!

Their speed picked up rapidly and Rex's stomach began to feel queasy. The altitude reading showed that they were only half-way to their 'safezone' where they had enough cover to deploy. He didn't know if he could resist the intense pressure in his head for that long. The edges of his vision were already starting to go black.

Rex looked to see where Grey and Murrack were positioned. They were both huddled in the co-pilot's seat. Murrack positioned behind Grey, who was gripping onto the headrest of his seat. They were crouched, ready to deploy.

"We're launching." Murrack said.

"Not yet. We need to fall another few seconds before we're safely out of view."

Murrack sounded like an aggravated Wampa when he next spoke. "What does it matter?!"

Rex barked back. "Because they would chase us, you dense slab of beskar. Wait for my command."

Rex didn't hear any further complaining from either of them.

Well, that's something.

Rex began to climb his way around the pilot's seat to get at the controls. Murrack began yelling over at him.

Fifteen seconds.

"What do you think you're doing!? You'll knock us off course! Just leave it!" Murrack was screeching in anger to attempt to hide the fear in his voice.

Rex ignored Murrack. The way the shuttle was spinning made it impossible for Rex to throw himself far enough into the pilot's seat. The forces were shoving him instead towards Murrack and Grey. Rex swore. His legs were crammed into the space between the pilot and co-pilot's seats. He couldn't quite reach the steering.

Kriff. Fierfek. OSIK.

It took Rex all of his strength to resist the g-forces and use his legs to push him up and up until he could grab the door. Once he had a hold he began pulling himself into the seat, his feet walking up behind him and giving him extra leverage. His vision was growing more and more dark.

Ten seconds.

Murrack was yelling in Mando'a and Grey just kept saying "what are you doing?" over and over into Rex's earpiece.

Rex grunted with the effort. The ungainly posture probably didn't help with their confidence in him. Finally Rex was able to get his left leg in the cockpit. He hoisted his shebs into the seat and used his right leg to wedge himself in place.

Finally.

Rex gripped the controls and began to steer the shuttle out of its tightening corkscrew and towards the closest building.

Murrack swore violently at this, his panic getting the better of him.

"See you in Haran, batcher." Murrack activated his jetpack. Grey grunted and cursed as he was dragged into the air by Murrack. The ship wobbled as the burden of the two men was lifted.

It would have to be good enough.

Rex saw a dark shape drop in front of him. The jetpack's flame sputtered on and off, slowing the momentum of the two Mandos. Rex felt relief wash over him. The two sheb-boils were finally out of his way. It was now up to him to survive this fall. He'd have it no other way.

Rex grew closer and closer to the block of buildings with each pass. He was painfully aware that at any moment his E-flaps could hit an off-set block and send him to his death, but Rex was used to the feeling that at any moment he could be killed. It had been his almost constant state for three years. The only thing you could do was hope that it didn't happen and move on with the things you could control.

As Rex passed the building again, he straightened out and pointed the shuttle downwards into a nose dive parallel with the blurred blocks that zoomed past him at an alarming speed. It was a relief to feel the g-forces relax. His vision was returning to normal, and he was able to slip more comfortably into the cockpit, but now his stomach was traveling further into his ribcage.

Definitely going to need to vomit when this is all over.

Rex had gotten the shuttle a few meters away from the cluster of block buildings, much closer than Murrack would have ever dared. It was close enough to ensure Rex's grappling hook would be long enough.

Rex noticed as he fell that every few dozen feet there was a balcony. He counted heartbeats in between balconies. The HUD information was passing too quickly to make any use of the altitude readings. He would have to go by his gut. Which was what he preferred, thanks to the Jedi he had learned from.

In a way, it was like using the Force.

Rex was feet from the building now. His body ached with exertion. Now it was all a matter of timing. He hit an orange rectangular button on the dash, locking the steering into place. He briefly let the steering go, ensuring that it was indeed held in place. Satisfied that it was locked, He reached to his hip and collected his left DC-17.

Do well for me today, Protector.

Rex half stood, pushing himself up the back of the co-pilot's seat so he was standing as upright as he possibly could. He focused on the passing balconies, trying to blur out any noise or fear and focus on the one shot he needed.

A heart beat and a half apart. One and now. One and now. One and now.

Rex lifted his pistol in both hands. And aimed in at the flashing balconies.

One and now One and now. One and NOW.

Rex squeezed the trigger. The grappling hook zipped and with a satisfying thud it burrowed into the parapet. The line went taught and he was ripped upwards. As he flew he reached out with his foot and jerked the shuttle to the side. Its trajectory shifted and as it crashed into the building with a cacophony of screeching metal and breaking glass, Rex began to swing, dispersing some of his momentum. He could feel bits of shrapnel bounce off his armor.

Rex reached the peak of his swing and then began to fall backward. He twisted around so he could see where he was going. He was glad he did. There was an outcropping, one of the "beautification platforms" that decorated the city. And there was a tree.

A kriffing tree?

"No no no no NOOOO." The impact was less jarring than Rex thought it would be. The branches snagged at Rex's legs and arms and, fearing his pistol would rip from his hand, Rex released the grappling line. The tree held him tight, and luckily, his armor prevented any of its branches from puncturing his body. In fact, Rex did more damage to the tree, it seemed. Several branches were snapped and broken, their stark white insides jagged and exposed.

Nature was connected to the Force. Rex supposed he could thank the Force then for his luck. Or curse it. He hadn't decided on which yet. But the day was young.

He then ripped his helmet off and vomited into the leaves.