Disclaimer: I make no money, and I only write about what I enjoy. Crimson Squad, Cerina Browlin, Reone, Gan Pohin, and the opening segment quotes are mine. Arlington Zey and Bardan Jusik belong to Karen Traviss. George Lucas owns everything else.

Segment 1

A bio-weapon specifically designed to kill the Fett genome would be disastrous. It would wipe out the entire Clone Army, and it would be an unrivaled victory for the Separatists. If not for this Clone Army, the Republic would have been brought to its knees long ago. Barl Nusset must be stopped at all costs, and if we need to risk a commando squad to save the rest of the Army, then so be it.
Jedi Master Mace Windu in conference with Jedi General Arlington Zey

The City of Sha'ye on the Planet Denon
687 Days ABG

Dusty picked up his buy'ce, the helmet that was a part of his commando armor, but he didn't move to put it on his head. He was currently dressed in the civilian outfit of a well-to-do real estate agent and knew that the buy'ce would be completely out of place, plus it would only ruin the hair he spent the last hour dying and styling. His hair was now blonde, and his thick locks had not been cut short to the military buzz, as he had always preferred to keep the tangles about an inch longer than was regulation standards. His brown eyes were also hidden beneath a pair of blue contacts, and the combination of cosmetic changes had transformed him into a completely different man.

Dusty looked to the reflection panel to his right and was glad that he remembered to dye his eyebrows the same color his hair, and he decided that he would never be able to pick himself out of a lineup of his brothers as a clone. In addition to the hair and eye changes, he was now also wearing the business casual outfit of a civilian. The clothing was softer than the standard BDU's, the basic duty uniform, that he wore when not in his armor. And, the material was nothing like the temperature controlled body suit that was beneath his commando armor.

The white shirt he wore was designed like a tunic but with tightly fitting sleeves. The blue pants matched the blue-colored long coat, and he felt like some backwater politician for a moment. He was all looks and no intelligence in how to handle a society, at least that's what he thought while he gave himself a casual once-over to make sure he appeared to be a civilian. Putting the helmet on the pile that contained the rest of the armor, Dusty gave the knee-high boots a quick tug, tucking in the pants to be as comfortable as he could possibly do.

He picked up the identification chip with his false persona and set it in one of the breast pockets of his shirt. According to that small electronic device, he was now Elig Munot, who had left his home on Concord Dawn to become educated as a businessman on Coruscant. After earning a primary degree in business and a secondary degree in real estate, he then moved to Denon looking for a decent housing market where he could wheel and deal and expand his hard-earned wealth.

Eyes staring now at the helmet's T-visor, Dusty spoke to no one in particular as he studied the piece of equipment that had been his eyes and ears to the outside world since he could fit in it. "It's strange looking at it from this side."

Mouse didn't bother hiding his boredom as he rotated through his different sniper attachments by setting them in place on the DC-17 blaster and calibrating the scopes for different settings. He knew he had no target to fire upon, but at least it was keeping his hands busy and his mind occupied. He didn't like the concept of this mission. It wasn't a commando's place to do an intelligence agent's job, and he covered his fear by doing everything he could to keep his mind off of it. Snapping another scope in place and looking through the lens, he didn't even bother looking up from his work. "Being vulnerable is scary. It's why I prefer sniping."

"No," Dusty said shaking his head. "I mean I think I understand why we're such an enigma to the civvies. Don't you think we look like droids?"

"So, we're droids fighting droids. Is that it?" Gath questioned. He scratched the back of his head staring at his brother in the civilian clothing that had changed him so drastically. Gath had wondered at first why he wasn't chosen to handle this part of the mission, but as he studied Dusty, he realized that his brother had a more casual air about him and seemed almost comfortable, practically relaxed. Gath knew he'd be pulling at the collar around his neck and fussing with the sleeves on his arms, and that would end the mission before it even began. "I thought we were just taking out the bad guys. Now you're getting all philosophical on us. I think you're taking this civvie role a little too seriously."

Dusty turned from the pile of armor and the buy'ce on top of it, deciding to save the philosophy for another time. Feeling a bit more lighthearted now, he told them, "Never thought I'd miss the armor, but it's rather drafty without it."

Jas stepped from the adorning room and brought forth the small comlink set they had been provided by their superiors. He gave his brother the once-over and merely raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He wasn't certain what to think of Dusty. Part of him wanted to laugh at how not Dusty he looked and another part of him was terrified about what could happen to him if anything in this mission went wrong. He still didn't understand why one of the ARCs, an Advanced Recon Commando, wasn't assigned this part of the mission. It simply would have made more sense because ARCs are more adept at blending in and dealing with the general public.

"Ner vod, it's summer," Jas told him trying to let his light-hearted nature override the fear in his eyes that Dusty didn't need to see from him. "You may be daft but you're not drafty."

Dusty laughed at his brother's teasing while he took from Jas the earbud and placed it so it was hidden in his ear canal. Then he secured what looked like a decorative button on the left lapel of his long coat. The button contained the tiny pick up microphone that would transmit conversations back to Crimson as they remained safely holed up in their hideout. "Touché, ner vod. That was well said."

"Just get what we need and get back safe," Gath sighed, giving his brother a squeeze on his shoulder. "The sooner we get Nusset eliminated, the sooner they might give us a mission more suitable to our skills."

Dusty started for the door but stopped to give his brothers one last look, "Gath, you should have been the Republic's motivator. With speeches like that, you'd have the entire galaxy in your hand."

Leaving his brothers behind in the small apartment, Dusty mentally rehearsed the script he was told to use by the old woman in the hangar who was strangely dressed in a flight suit that was far too baggy for her. The darkened goggles she wore over her eyes were far too clumsy for her face, and the hood over her head made her practically a ridiculous caricature of a homeless waif, but she had given them explicit instructions on how to find the informant who possessed the necessary intel they needed to take out Nusset. So, he decided that what the crazy old bag looked like didn't really matter as long as her information was good.

Dusty still couldn't figure out why the old woman had chosen him specifically for the meeting with this supposed informant. All she told them was that he was to meet with a woman named Cerina Browlin at a place called Heart of Sha'ye at exactly 19:15 in the evening, and that he was to introduce himself to the host in charge using several lines in a script that had to match exactly. If Dusty were to make any erroneous remarks or improvise around the script, he would lose the opportunity for Browlin to come forth and provide Nusset's latest location. The old woman insisted that this was the safest way to prevent the Separatists from discovering the identity of the informant.

As Dusty approached the restaurant, he was momentarily taken in by a large, bright building. It was decorated in marble spires loosely covered by ornate vines with small pink flowers. The vines were twisted in patterns along the pillars almost seeming to be crawling and climbing higher to the top. Two large, plexi-glass doors were covered in sheer white curtains, and as Dusty pulled one of the doors open, the curtain swirled around the entrance like some kind of cloud, beckoning him into the restaurant.

Dusty took a quiet breath, knowing that he was about to step into a different world, the one that catered to the more upscale clientele. For at least the sixth time this evening, he wondered why in the seven hells a squad commando had been recruited to do a job that should have been given to an intelligence agent or at least an ARC. Then again, Dusty never did always understand orders, even if he followed them for the most part. He was better at twisting them into the situation rather than following them word for word like many of the other clones would do. It was one of the reasons the Kaminoans especially hated him, but as long as he could keep proving within good reason why he chose the course of action he had, he usually didn't get too severely punished. He practically was a one-man Reject Squad and sometimes he felt sorry that his brothers were stuck with him. Then again, it occurred to Dusty that sending him on this particular mission was the GAR's way of getting rid of him. He had always been accused of being a loose cannon, and he was the real reason Crimson had become the Reject Squad. Maybe tonight, the GAR would have its wish come true and Dusty, RC-1168, would no longer exist.