Clone trooper Blacks only hates three things: bad intel, blue milk, and most of all, armour - his armour specifically. According to him, 'it's too tight and a bit abbrasive,' and so he receives his nickname 'Blacks,' as that is all he wears. There are standards to be upheld when battling on the front lines, so Blacks wears his gear when he must. Any other time, he can be found as one might expect - in his blacks.
Unfortunately for him, Jedi Knight Kit Fisto arrives later this rotation. Blacks' patrols with his teammates have not been as successful as the Jedi Council should like, causing Kit Fisto to visit the planet in person. The local seppies have all but taken over the nearby village on Beta Minor, and so today of all days, Blacks must be up to standard.
A nervous frenzy bubbles beneath his skin. After Slick betrayed the republic, Blacks was assigned to Slick's old team. Unfortunately for him, they were assigned base patrol, and Black's reputation suffers for it. The other regs see him as a fumbling moron, and his squad pulls no punches when it comes to belittling him. Maybe, when Master Fisto arrives, Blacks can finally prove his loyalty and skill. After all, it might be his only opportunity to get out of this stinkhole of a planet.
Blacks has laid out his kit: his blaster, supply pack and of course, his trooper armour. Its white finish gleams under the glaring lights, and not a spec of dust rests on his spotless kit.
His squadron, well, Slick's old squad - Chopper, Jester, Gus, Punch, and Sketch - wander around the room aimlessly. Each of them wears their clone trooper armour, eagerly awaiting, or fatefully dreading the Jedi's arrival. Blacks stares down at his armour, only wearing his black undersuit. As the Jedi will not arrive for at least a few hours, it should be safe enough to leave it here in the meanwhile. There will be plenty of time to put it on later.
Blacks heads out of the room through a sliding door. His stomach grumbles like a bantha, eager for its next meal. Blacks saunters down the hallway, heading straight for the cantina.
Chopper, mainly identifiable for his amber and silver eyes and facial scarring, approaches Black's bunk, rubbing his hands together mischievously. "Look at this guy," he teases the other troopers, motioning to Black's kit, "A Jedi knight is coming here, and he's runnin' around in his blacks!"
"Huh," Punch grumbles, stroking his goatee. "Sounds like he needs to be taught a thing or two about order..."
"Yeah," Chopper comments, "...and I have just the idea."
"What did I miss?" Blacks questions as he enters his barracks. He leers over his kit, beginning to put on his armour, starting with his shinpads. Already the irritating plastoid chafes against his skin.
"You're late!" Punch affirms, pointing his finger at Blacks. "The General will be here any second - and you're still in your blacks!"
"Relax, we've got time." Blacks slowly places his armour on, piece by piece. As he reaches for his helmet, his eyes widen. "That's not right..."
"What?" Chopper interjects, suppressing a sly smirk.
"My...uh...skid plate," Blacks searches his bunk frantically. "It's not here!"
Punch stares down at him; Blacks is fully dressed, his shiny armour almost like a new trooper fresh from Tipoca City, save for one thing. His blacks stick out like a sore thumb, visible through his missing skid plate. Punch chuckles at the sight. "Just wait 'til the Jedi sees you!"
"It's not funny!" Blacks snaps, his voice strained. "What did you do with it?"
"Relax," Chopper adds. "I wasn't gonna keep it. Your skidplate is right he-"
Before he can finish his sentence, the barrack doors swing open, and footsteps approach. Black's worst nightmare comes to fruition and Jedi Knight Kit Fisto comes through the door. Blacks sharply salutes, facing the Jedi. "Master Fistu...uh...we weren't expecting to see you so early."
"I came prepared," Fisto remarks. The Jedi's deep red eyes glance down at the trooper, specifically, at Black's rear end. "As you did not. You seemed to have misplaced something, trooper."
"Sorry, sir." Black's heart races profusely, dread entombing the pit in his stomach. His cheeks flush bright red. "It won't happen again."
Chopper bites down a chortle, his face turning a bright red. The other squadmates chuckle to themselves, being careful to hide it from the Jedi.
"No, it will not." Fisto curls his lower lip in disdain and pauses before continuing, "Your disregard for Republic equipment is disappointing, soldier. Regardless, we have more pressing matters."
Kit Fisto speaks in a clear and concise manner, "My intel informs me that a group of separtist droids were spotted in the region. The Council suggests that this may be an effort to further gain ground in this region. Separatist forces maybe be marching towards this base as we speak."
Punch raises his hand. "Sir, if I may..."
"Go on."
"Our early warning system is designed to detect any mechanical movement outside the base. If those clankers come, we'll know," Punch confidently reaffirms. As the words leave his mouth, blaring alarms sound around the room. Red lights flash around them as the early warning system activates.
A trooper sprints into the barracks, "Sir, we've spotted intruders at the northern flank."
"They're here so soon," the Jedi mutters. He turns to face Blacks, then his eyes glance to the other members of the squad. "Troopers, come with me."
Without hesitation, the Jedi sprints down the hall; his lightsaber ignites with a swoosh. Blacks reaches for his blaster and slings his supply pack over his shoulder. Chopper and Punch follow suit, then Jester, Gus and Sketch.
Distant blaster fire sounds outside the base walls as the team dashes through the hallway. Narrow windows reveal a group of droidekas outside the base; molten red blaster bolts fly through the air.
Kit Fisto thrusts his hand forward, forcing the door to the command centre open. "Take your positions!"
Blacks enters the command centre and kneels behind the holomap. Three droidekas blast fire from outside through an open door in the room and a bolt shoots past his helmet, skiffing the surface of it. Blacks ducks, rubbing his hand against his helmet; a remnant of the blaster bolt sizzles in the plastoid material.
Chopper crawls behind a holoprojector, firing rapidly at the droidekas. "There's too many of them! We can't hold them off."
The Jedi Knight advances, crouching down beside Blacks. Effortlessly deflecting a blaster bolt with his lightsaber, he grabs Black's shoulder. "You, flank them from behind - we'll hold them off. Take Punch with you. They'll be more droids coming - when they do, we need to regroup with the reinforcements outside the base. You must take out those droidekas!
"Hurry!" The Jedi outstretches his hand, forcing open a door to the side of the room.
Blacks almost trips over himself as he runs for the door, scrambling to the other side of it, and rolls behind the nearest arborway tree. Its bark rubs against his back as he crouches behind it and his ragged breaths echo through his helmet.
Punch taps his shoulder, kneeling beside him. "We're out of their line of sight, but we need to sneak around the base to attack them from behind," Punch takes out five shock grenades and hands two to Blacks. "Here, just remember to throw them slowly."
Black's takes the grenades and begins crawling along the ground to circle the base, and Punch follows behind. The dead foliage crunches under his weight and a strange creature sings from the impending trees above him. The droidekas soon come into view; their blue ray shields vibrate each time they fire at the command centre. A group of battle droids break through the forest in the distance, marching towards the base.
"We should come from-"
"I'll go first," Punch interjects, already sneaking towards the droidekas.
"Wait!" Blacks whispers, but Punch continues. A branch cracks under Punch's feet; the three droidekas turn towards Punch, aiming their guns at him. A barrage of blaster bolts whizzes through the air at the clone. Instinctively, Blacks dives towards Punch, tugging him away from the droids. A red laser bolts through Punch's chest as he crumbles to the ground. Blacks dodges another laser before dropping down beside Punch. Punch's raw flesh burns and he grunts in agony. A sweeping puff of smoke rises from his tender skin; charred edges of frayed flesh weep as Blacks scans his eyes over the wound.
"You're gonna be fine," Blacks states, affirming confidence with his gruff voice. He reaches for the bacta spray from his belt, aiming it at the wound. Its overly sweet aroma mixes with the stench of burning flesh and smoking blasters. Blacks presses down on his comlink, radioing for medical help from the command centre. "Hang tight, Punch, Chopper'll be here in no time."
"Go on...without me," Punch demands through gritted teeth. "Its just a flesh wound - I'll live."
Blacks reluctantly nods, backtracking the way he came. He sneaks around the back of the droidekas, being careful not to make any sound. The droidekas seem not to notice him, still firing at the command centre. Black's fingers reach for his shock grenades. He steps closer to the droidekas, now only a few feet away. His heart races and his breaths become uneven. He gently outstretches his arms, sending two grenades towards the closest destroyer droids. The grenades roll under the shields, passing through them. Within moments, a shock pulsates from the grenades; the two droidekas shut down and their ray shields dissolve.
To Black's dismay, the third droideka spins around. He reaches for his third grenade. Blacks cocks his head towards his belt - there is no third grenade. Blacks wastes no time in raising his blaster at the droid. He swiftly dodge rolls to the side, taking cover behind the other dead destroyer droid. Its limp frame vibrates as the droideka fires at it.
Blue blaster bolts from the command centre bounce off its ray shield. The droideka turns back to the command centre, blasting at the clones inside. Chopper nods to Blacks from inside the base, but the droideka keeps him pinned down, unable to come behind the destroyer droid.
Punch drags himself over the ground, inching closer to Blacks. He tosses one of his shock grenades at Blacks, which Blacks swiftly catches. Blacks takes a deep breath, shifting his gaze back to the destroyer droid. Mustering up his courage, he creeps closer to the droideka. In one smooth motion, he sends the shock grenade towards its shield.
The grenade inches closer, but it bounces off the ray shield. The destroyer droid turns back to Blacks. A searing pain strikes through Black's flesh and a burning sensation emerges from his lower back. Blacks collapses to the ground, writhing in pain. His teeth grate together as he clenches his jaw tightly. His vision clouds over; a hue of green sweeps through the air and the blue shield dissipates.
Kit Fisto's unmistakable figure comes into focus as it leers over him. "Let's get this trooper some medical attention."
The pain in his back burns and throbs with a pulsating heat. Black's vision darkens and his mind falls to sleep.
"You're awake," Chopper's gravelly voice comments, a hint of surprise underlying in it. "Wasn't sure if you'd make it after getting shot in the shebs."
"Maybe if you'd given him back his skid plate he wouldn't be in this mess," Punch adds mockingly. "Oh, sorry, I meant lower back," Punch corrects himself, his voice loaded with sarcasm.
"Gah," Blacks grunts, attempting to move. The blaring white infirmary lights irritate his eyes and he forces them open. Shooting pain from his lower back aches profusely. "Wh-what happened?"
As Black's eyes adjust, he glances around the infirmary. Punch stands over him, and a bacta patch sticks to his shoulder. Chopper sits on a chair beside his bed. Over by the door, Jedi Knight Kit Fisto chatters indistinctly with another clone.
"Speaking of shebs, looks like you saved ours," Punch states confidently. "Because of you taking out those droids, Master Fisto was able to regroup with his troopers, they took out a whole regiment of battle droids! Well, that's what I'm told..." Punch motions to his wounded shoulder. "Impressive feat, taking out two droidekas - couldn't have done it better myself."
"I...I did?" Blacks repeats almost in a trance. A smile sneaks onto his face. "Just doing my duty, that's all."
Chopper nods. "It's just like Punch was saying. We...uh...talked to the Jedi, he thinks you should be the leader of our squad. We're shipping back to the fleet, Corporal. Ready for the next mission?"