Hey guys it's able, happy new year :)
Asher peered over the top of the trench and cursed when a blaster bolt answered his curiosity.
"Dank farrick!" He shouted, ducking quickly.
"Kriff sir we need a Captain not a casualty." Jace muttered from his seat, lighting a cigarra.
The rain had waxed and waned, and it picked up in intensity, cooling the spot where Asher almost went to the afterlife.
The Captain glanced to one of Sword Company's snipers, Corporal Harper.
"You see where the bolt came from?"
"Yes sir."
"If you get the shot, take it."
Harper nodded, moving for a slope in the trench where he could stay low and set up. He crawled as high as he could allow himself, and pulled his poncho's hood over his helmet just a little more to hide himself.
He is hand moved to the dial on his scope, steadily zooming onto the droid line.
Harper steadied his breathing, soft and slow. The world came almost to a standstill as he focused, in through his nose and out through his mouth with a count of four seconds in between.
From where he lay, he could feel his heartbeat against the ground and his breastplate as he scanned the droid line.
There it was, standing rigid as it spied their line, E-5s sniper rifle clutched in it's hands.
"I've got him." He mused.
"Take the shot."
Harper exhaled slowly, flexed his finger over the trigger. As he reached the bottom of his exhale he pulled.
The bolt from his rifle flew through the air and cleaved the droid's head off.
"That's a kill." He chuckled.
"Well done corp." Jace smiled as he took another drag.
"Another notch on my rifle." The Sniper grinned behind his helmet.
Asher plopped down next to Jace under a rain tarp. The Lieutenant offered a cigarra which the Captain gratefully accepted.
"You seem at ease." Asher said as Jace lit his brother's smoke.
"Hmm." Jace stowed the lighter, "When it comes to Cutter it's not a matter of if, only when, and I'm not worried."
"I'm just bored." He shrugged, "And I'll admit a little worried."
"You're bored?" Jace laughed.
"Waiting for contact is the most boring thing in the galaxy, I'd rather get shot at, it gets the blood pumping." Asher took a drag.
"Eh I feel you." His brother mused finishing his cigarra and flicking the butt onto the ground, "You worried about Cutter?"
"I'm worried I sent a brother to his death." Asher sighed taking another drag.
"He knew the risks and he's the best man for it ner vod."
"That's how he got his name, he cuts down droids like nobody else." Asher mused watching the smoke dance in the night air before dissipating, "How many kills did he get that day on Geonosis?"
"Somewhere in the dozens, laced more tinnies than an entire fireteam." Jace shrugged.
The rain picked up and distantly he could hear the telltale muzzle report of a DC-15W.
"And that's him right now I believe." Jace muttered with a raised brow.
Asher pursed his lips and slid his helmet on, won't be long now he wagered.
Cutter kept his knife out, so far they'd been lucky on this excursion and kept things quiet.
The droid trenches were naturally absent the creature comforts of organics. No dugouts for sleeping or barrel fires to warm themselves. Racks of charging stations or crates of spare munitions lay scattered all about, luckily that lucky shell from earlier had cut off this particular section's power.
No light, and no available charging stations meant they could advance almost with impunity.
He did another scanning pulse, three hostiles about to round the corner of their trench.
Cutter held up three fingers and waited.
The first droid he saw he shoved, the B-1 careening into its brethren with a shriek. All three fell into a heap of metal that the clones cut into and silenced.
"Did you hear that?" A distant voice called.
Kriff.
Cutter signed for the clones to hide, crouching behind nearby crates and in alcoves in the trenches.
The sounds of two pairs of feet clacked you investigate.
"I think we got trouble…" One droid whined.
"Come on out Republic dogs!" The second droid cried.
Bedlam moved first, superheated blade entering the lead droid's head under its chin, it's head sparking.
Before it's companion could turn and shoot Cutter tackled it to the ground and jammed the blade into it's back, power pack melting against his blade.
It feebly clawed the ground before the power cell bled away and became motionless.
Cutter pointed for their advance, drawing his pistol to use in conjunction with his knife.
Their move forward was steady, dropping droids as silently as they could. Their foes seemed none the wiser as they wiped out a squad of droids with surgical precision.
All good things must come to an end however.
The smoldering remains of one droid rang out with something that made Cutter's blood run cold.
"Units B-1/077 respond."
"I think we're about to make contact boys." Cutter grinned.
"Roger that top." Bedlam said, his joy palpable.
"Roger." Mickey echoed, roughly swallowing.
The telltale sound of droid feet marching in unison announced their presence.
Cutter unslung the his DC-15W, and thumbed the safety off.
He rounded the corner, weapon raised.
The lead droid shrieked in surprise, it's arms held aloft in fear.
Cutter pulled the trigger with a grin.
"Lay it down!" Cutter roared as he let loose a stream from his weapon.
The droids never saw it coming as they advanced into their section. Cutter smiling as he blasted them all, the rapid fire rate of the new weapon making scrap metal out of the droids.
Mickey tossed a droid popper, the explosive bursting into a beautiful arc of blue light that fried the droids where they stood.
"Get the charges set!" Cutter ordered, covering Bedlam who burst into the bunker with his pistol.
Droids turned and fired his way, the Clone dove for the floor and fired his pistol rapidly, nailing the droids.
He found his feet and set the charge on the main guns power pack.
"Charge is set top!" He yelled.
Cutter yelled an expletive as a bolt came close to his head, his retort another burst off his gun.
"Mickey! Bring the pain! High arc!"
The grenadier leveled his weapon high, and fired a trio of grenades rapidly. The whistle of them sang through the air before slamming back down into a trench they droids were coming out of.
Three booms followed and the droid's paused momentarily.
"Move up move up!" Cutter ordered, his men stacking up behind him.
Cutter in the lead, Mickey in the middle pulling left and right security, and Bedlam on their six.
The trenches worked in their favor, the droids were bottlenecked whenever they tried to advance, but that meant they could be too.
Cutter's instructor, a hard charging Mandalorian of the Cuy'val Dar had taught him that while accuracy is important, there is such a thing as accuracy by volume. And it was a principle that Cutter had used very very well.
The resistance at the next bunker however proved to be stronger than he anticipated.
Red laser fire pinned them into the trench, the clones hugging the wall and using crates as cover.
The trench bottleneck had finally been their bane rather than their boon.
Droids poured out weapons ready, firing a volley of bolts that pinned the clones where they stood.
Mickey called out what Cutter hoped to never hear on this op.
"I'm hit!"
"Stay in it brother!" Bedlam called.
Mickey's hand touched his abdomen where the bolt had struck, the black of his glove was no doubt bloody.
He seemed in a daze, his back against the trench wall until he shook his head, cocked the pump on his launcher and sent a grenade whistling toward their opposition.
They brought the fire up, bringing down the droids but the Supers had entered the fray.
"Concentrate your fire!" Cutter barked, firing a stream from behind the crates that were his cover.
Blaster bolts pinged off their armor, but they gave way soon enough, but they were being overwhelmed.
A bolt hit Cutter square in the delt, his armor mitigated it but he felt the hot stinging pain of the round and grit his teeth.
"Top you good?" Bedlam called.
"I'm fine! The clankers just shot me." He spat.
His anger fueled him, coursing through him like fire. He hardened his heart and tossed a thermal imploder. The explosive bouncing to the feet of the droids.
There was a slight moment of quiet, a burst of air before it sucked all the air into itself and detonated with a mighty roar.
Droids were vaporized but a solid platoon of droids still blocked their path.
Luckily he still had his ace in the hole.
"Bedlam!"
"On it."
The single shot rocket was a trump card, and now was the perfect time as the clone leveled the ordnance at the cluster of droids, and for a brief second before he pulled the trigger Cutter heard the whine of the lead droid.
"Uh oh."
The rocket flew true, striking the droid platoon in the center of their formation, the explosion sending bits of Separatist trash all over.
"Push for the bunker!" Cutter grit as he took a hypo and jammed the syringe into his neck.
It wasn't pain killers but a stimulant, a cocktail that kept his mind off the pain and brought his perception into perfect focus.
Bad for the heart, luckily he was already sweating.
They had to keep the momentum, shock and awe the name of the game.
"Bedlam you good? You hit?" Cutter called.
"I'm good."
"Mickey?"
"I-I'm hit top… but I can keep going." He stammered, hand clutching his abdomen.
They reached it, and Cutter knelt to pull security as an alarm droned through the night.
"Kriff well… here comes the party." Cutter said dryly.
Mickey propped himself against the wall as Bedlam started to slice the door, the droids inside likely barricading themselves after they caught wind of what the clones did to the first one.
"Get flash ready Mick." Bedlam said.
Mickey withdrew the grenade and primed it, hand holding down on the safety.
"Three… two… one…"
The door slid open.
Mickey tossed the flash grenade inside, the burst of light shorting out the droids optical sensors.
Bedlam moved in, precision made manifest with his carbine, dropping the droids where they stood.
"Setting charges, twenty seconds." He said as he withdrew the explosive from his pack.
"Roger." Cutter acknowledged.
"We've got incoming!" Mickey called from his side.
Three of them charged their position faster than Cutter could get the curse on his breath out.
Commando droids, their presence announced by blaster fire as the rapidly closed the distance.
Mickey angled his weapon but a swift sidestep from the lead droid and a well placed fist that sent the clone's head careening into the bunker wall knocked him out.
Cutter moved his blaster to bear and almost cut the droid in half. A bolt impacted his leg, just above the knee and he yelped in pain as another kicked the muzzle away, sending its knee into his helmet.
He clattered in a heap, his head foggy and his vision blurry as the second droid raised a vibrosword.
The third droid moved into the bunker, he could hear Bedlam's shouting and the sound of a struggle.
Focus.
The droid brought it's sword down, but Cutter raised his blaster to parry it from a kneeling position.
The durasteel blade cleaved into the weapon, sparks sputtering from its ruined power pack as he wrestled against the droid. His hand on the muzzle and another on the buttstock.
He was losing this battle of strength.
Cutter stood shakily, getting his footing as he rose against the droid's blade. The fresh wound on his leg making the effort almost impossible but the clone fought for his stand.
His mind was foggy, his focus tunneled as his head throbbed and his blood roared in his ears. His grip was faltering, the cracked power pack sparking into his gloves and burning through them, melting the material into his hands.
Slowly the blade lowered, the droid's servos groaning against Cutter's resistance. It shoved his arms downward, his muscles screaming in protest as it battled the strength of metal.
He roared against his foe, low and guttural, inhuman right into its faceplate.
He was out of options, his instructors had taught that if he ever engaged in hand to hand he needed to be prepared to see his own blood.
And blood never bothered him.
He let his grip falter on his blaster and let it fall as he took a step back. The droid's sword came down like a hammer, cutting him deeply at the shoulder where his plates didn't cover.
He roared in defiance as he drew his sidearm, holding it low as he sent blaster bolts into its chest, several rounds perforating it's chassis before a well placed headshot silenced it.
"Bedlam!" He called.
Cutter entered the bunker giving a shake to Mickey who began to stir as he passed. He almost tripped over the fallen commando droid and spied Bedlam who lay in a heap, his chest smoking.
A wet gurgle of a breath rang through the bunker as Cutter knelt.
"Bedlam are you alright? Can you stand?"
"N….n….n-n-no…." He croaked.
Mickey shambled in, weapon aimed at the door.
"Top, more are coming, we gotta get outta here." He said frantically.
"I-I….. I'm done for brother… leave me." Bedlam groaned, "Charges…. S-s-set…"
Cutter grit his teeth, eyed the exit and back at their wounded brother.
"Contact! Top we gotta get outta here!" Mickey cried, firing his weapon.
Bedlam coughed, wet and ragged, air from every breath he took compressed his lungs, without the aid station he'd die.
Cutter clenched his jaw, and made his decision.
Asher lowered his macros and scanned the horizon once more. Anxiety flooded through him again, the constant sound of blaster fire and explosions telling him Cutter did what he did best.
But then it was quiet.
The flare came up, and Asher's heart raced.
The two bunkers that had been marked for termination went up in flames, smoke billowing from the destroyed masonry as power packs imploded from within.
The gap had been made, where were his boys?
"They did it." Hoyt said breathlessly, "They actually did it."
Commander Hoyt clenched his fists and grabbed his rifle with a vigor that had been absent from the Commander since Asher had made landfall.
The Mud Jumper Commander stood at the apex of the ladder.
"Your brothers cleared the way boys! Let's take this line! Charge!"
A collective roar echoed through the trench line as they ascended the ladders, Skywalker leapt up into No Man's land, his blue lightsaber glowing in the twilight.
Asher hopped up, rifle at the ready with Jace not far behind.
"Cutter where are you?" He yelled into the comm.
Static was the answer.
"Cutter!"
Asher cursed and glanced to his team that took cover behind the remains of an AT-TE.
"We find Cutter and his team and we get them back to the rear copy?"
A chorus of affirmations answered him.
It was chaos unlike anything he'd ever been a part of, fire zipping through the night, white armor all around him as they advanced to the forward trench lines.
He dodged barbed wire, careful not to lose his footing into one of the craters as he looked around frantically for his brothers.
"Bring up the big guns! Lay some suppressive fire!" Asher shouted to the weapons squad that followed him.
DC-15W's and rotary cannons laid heavy bursts of blue laser fire. A grenadier pumped the action on his grenade launcher and sent rounds straight into the droid trenches.
"Keep up the pressure!" Asher ordered and they advanced.
The rain kept falling harder now, the ground become a stew of mud and decay. He took some frantic breaths as they advanced, every step he took made a chore by the mud and his armor.
It wasn't even that far of a distance and it felt like miles.
"Cutter drop me a pin vod! Anything!"
Just before the droid line he found them, the Infantry clones rushing right by them as Chaos team retreated.
They were obviously wounded, Mickey trailed behind using his rifle as a crutch while Cutter lead the way who was in no way better. Every step he took was slogged by the mud, slowly and gingerly stepping on a bad leg.
Bedlam over his shoulder.
Asher grinned despite the danger of it all, and moved to them as carefully as he could.
Asher closed the distance as Cutter slowly lowered Bedlam off of him into Asher's arms.
"Take him take-"
Cutter never finished his sentence.
Time slowed down as Asher's eyes widened, his jaw went slack and he stayed rooted to his spot in horror. Time moved at a snail's pace.
A blaster bolt, red, from a sniper impacted against Cutter's armored back and through his chest.
Cutter paused, hands going up shakily as he looked down at the wound, the smoldering hole smoking.
His brother stood there for a moment as the world came back into focus, his arms fell limply to his side his visor stared off into nothing before he fell to his knees.
Another bolt, zipped onto Cutter's helmet.
His brother's head gave a violent jerk from the impact and he seemed to freeze before he went slack.
Before Asher could move to catch him he careened face first into the mud, helmet and chest smoking.
The worst part was the 501st and the 224th ran right past him. Their charge couldn't be stopped for anything as artillery from both sides began to come down with the rain.
They treated him with the same level of attention they did to the bodies that lay strewn about the ground.
They treated him like the dead.
It's hard to write action, please comment and review ;)