Location: Intersection of Pennsylvania and 14th Avenues, Washington D.C., 4:12 pm:
"So these are they guys Cody paired us with?" Spades voice came through the unit's comm with a hint of derision.
"Great, just fekking great," Gamble answered, his mood hadn't improved since finding Wooley and Titch.
In fact if anything, it had got worse. "Has the Commander lost his fekking mind? Pairing us with a bunch of shinies? And 442nd no less?"
"Actually Sarge," Deuce spoke up, "I think these are the four imbeciles that got lost."
The gritty sergeant moved his helmet around slowly.
"Care to share?"
Deuce couldn't help but smile. He had one up on the sarge. "Why here, on Earth," he said brightly. "These four," he continued as he nursed his deece, "are the reason we're fighting on this planet to begin with. They're the…" Deuce paused to chuckle, "they're why two entire legions got diverted to this backwater world."
Gamble couldn't quite believe it; the Republic had diverted two star destroyers with two legions to the outer rim, just to go after four shinies?
It didn't make sense, he had been under the impression that they were here to rescue the commanding officers of a Star Destroyer, who fled after their ship was destroyed by the Separatists. But evidently, no, it had been only troopers, and that just pissed the Sergeant off even more. Titch, and dozens like him were dead because of these four troopers. And now Cody wanted his squad to keep them safe until the battle was over and they bugged out?
'I don't think so,' Gamble mumbled aggressively, as his squad stopped a few feet away from the shinies.
"Sergeant Gamble? 212th? Of Gamble Squad?" one of the shinies stepped forward. Two green chevrons on either side of the trooper's helmet, pointing forward, distinguished him from the others.
"Yeah, that's me, who wants to know?" Gamble grumbled.
The trooper seemed to take notice of his mood, and took a small step back. "CT-20-1010 sir, but you can call me…"
"Tens?" Blackjack interrupted. When the other trooper nodded, he continued, "Sorry bud, but it was hard not to see that one coming."
Gamble made a gruff chuckle, before looking at the others in the group, "And who are these…" Gamble wanted to say di'kut's, but he refrained, "troopers?"
Tens turned to his brothers, "This is Right'eye."
The trooper in question only nodded. He was the only other clone with markings. Two green stripes went down either arm, a thick green line outlined his chest and back plates, while the right side of his visor was outlined in green as well. Why? Gamble hadn't a clue. It seemed that this Right'eye wasn't a fan of solid color patterns on his armor.
"He's Jumps," Tens continued, "and the trooper at the back is Riot."
Riot wasn't sure about this group of men. He had never seen a more formidable bunch of brothers in his short life, but, there was something different about them, he sensed a level of discordance, something unusual for a clone commando squad.
Gamble looked them over, he was definitely the roughest of the unit. Gruff, dirty stained and uncared for armor, his manner was reflected in his appearance.
"And who the fek is that?" the Sergeant pointed to a black armored soldier standing a few feet away from everyone else.
"Sergeant Trevor. US Marines. We've been covering each other's shebs since this went down."
"Sarge," Solitaire said over a private channel, "as much as I like introductions, we need to keep moving. Word has it Cody is ticked as a hungry sarlaac over a comm cock-up."
Gamble sighed, "Your right, but if Cody's pissed now, wait until I get a hold of him," the Sarge shook his head then muttered, "fancy pairing us with armatures? I swear if one of you step one inch outta line I'll personally shove your deece's so far up your shebs you'll have to fire it through your nose. Got it?"
"Sir, yes sir," they all straightened.
Even the Marine.
"Right, today is not, I repeat not, a day I would like to end up in a tank. You'll listen to me and me only. Understand?"
"Sir, yes Sir." Deuce smiled heartily in his bucket and pulled himself up off the side of the upturned vehicle he had been casually leaning against.
"OK," he said, "let's do some distance."
Gamble stepped out in front, continually muttering to himself, completely aware that everyone in the group could hear him cussing about being a fekking babysitter.
Solitaire moved off in a different direction, and disappeared from sight as only a good sniper could. Gamble didn't worry about him, he knew he would be finding the best vantage spot to cover not only his, but the entire squads collective shebs.
"Listen up Nines."
"It's Tens sir."
"Like I said, listen up Nines, has Cody informed you of the plan?"
Tens nodded.
"Good, stick to it, follow us, and try not to get yourselves killed."
4:18 pm:
Tens was aware of a comm flashing through and switched the channel open.
"Tens, what the fek have we got ourselves into?" Riot said as they started walking down 14th Street.
14th had to be cleared of enemy activity, and there was a sense of foreboding as they continued along the rubble.
"Riot, I don't understand you. You face down a Commando Droid and kill it, but you're afraid of a squad of your own brothers?" Tens shook his head slightly, he was trying to stay focused on the street, and keep this Gamble character off his back.
Nines, honestly?
"I'm not afraid!" Riot responded defensively, "But, if I was afraid of them, hypothetically speaking that is, it would probably be because they look like a fekking RC Squad! This sarge sounds like a pissed-off Grievous without the coughing; two of them are carrying mini-guns, and the other three have DC-15m's. Oh and did I mention the two with rocket launchers? Or the sniper whose been keeping us in his scopes the entire time we've walked down this street?"
Tens couldn't help but chuckle at Riot's rant, "Riot, udesiir ner vod, seriously. One; we've only made it a few meters down the road, their sniper is just covering our shebs, which is a good thing. Two; are you seriously afraid of these guys because they're carrying big guns? Man, if that's the case, don't even think about signing up for the Galactic Marines."
"Guys, quit the chatter," Right'eye chided, "maybe I'm the only one who's noticed, but there's no droids. No droids… Now, if I recollect, weren't we sent here to clear 14th?"
"Good point," Tens nervously scanned the area.
Gamble jogged out in front and with several hand gestures split the team into two.
Tens and his brothers took the right side of the street, and Gamble squad took the left. Trevor, being Trevor, kinda stayed in the middle of the street, between the two groups. Unfortunately, the street was flanked by multiple story buildings, with granite columns decorating the fronts. If droids were hiding behind those columns, it was perfect for an ambush, and that made Tens edgy.
"Sergeant," Tens called over, "Are your sensors picking up any droids? Mine are giving the all clear, but I've got this bad feeling…"
Across the street, Gamble stopped and looked over at the trooper, "Same here. Stay alert. Oh, and tell your shinie brother to shut the fek up, or use a private comm channel next time he feels like a bitch session. Sol loves target practice, ain't that right Sol?"
"Copy that Sarge."
This time, Riot commed in on a private channel, "Son of a fekking gundark! They heard me! Everything I said, they heard me!"
"We all heard you, di'kut," Jumps added.
"They're going to kill me!" the shinie squeaked.
Ahead of them, a large section of the building had crumbled into the street. A few small fires dotted the rubble. It forced Tens and his brothers onto the opposite side of the road with Gamble. They fell into patrol mode naturally, passing by a large chunk of debris, smouldering on the street.
As Riot waited his turn, a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder. Riots instincts told him to stop in his tracks, but he had felt nervous around this squad the minute they picked them up.
"If we were sent here to kill you Riot, we would have done it by now," the trooper said lightly swiveling the startled trooper around, "The names Deuce," and he extended a gauntleted hand for him to shake in good faith.
Riot looked down and tilted his head in confusion.
"I'm… Riot," he said meekly, shaking the trooper's hand.
Deuce shook his head, "Okay shinie, first things first, we're sons of Jango, we shake hands the Mandalorian way," and as he spoke, Deuce gave the young trooper a lesson he would remember to his dying day – the physical Mandalorian gesture more significant than any spoken words. It showed pride and after he let go of the menacing trooper's hand, Riot stood a little taller, a little stronger for the attention.
Tens smiled behind his helmet at the sight, he was glad that someone in Gamble Squad was friendly enough to calm Riot's fears.
Tens was one of the first to get past the pile of debris. Before him the street opened up again, with still more columned buildings on either side.
As the rest of the group shuffled through the debris gap behind him, he walked a little farther ahead out into the empty street. Ash and a few stray papers twirled around his feet. Peering down the street, Tens could see the entrance to the National Mall about 600 meters ahead. As hard as Tens tried, he couldn't see a single droid, the street was desolate.
"Sergeant, I really have a bad feeling about this. Are you absolutely sure your sensors aren't picking up anything?" Tens asked, a hint of stress seeping into his voice as he looked back towards the group.
"Ah Sarge," Sol said quietly, "I think we have company."
That's when it happened.
Tens sensed the plasma bolt two seconds before he saw it in his HUD. Turning around, he narrowly missed the first bolt, but the second slotted him through his left shoulder.
"AHHH!" he cried as blinding pain shot through his body.
Tens dove to the ground as five more bolts zipped past the area he'd just been standing.
"TENS!" he heard someone shout.
A stream of curses erupted through comm's but Tens paid them no heed. He crouched into a small form, brandishing his DC-17 hand blaster. As the pain tore through him he scanned the area for an enemy to kill, but this time they were hidden, out of range and out of sight.
'I'm going to die here,' he thought briefly as another red bolt hit his chest, followed shortly by more white-hot pain, 'I'm going to die here…'
#
"FEK!" Gamble cursed under his helmet as he watched red bolts streaming towards the trooper in the center of the street.
Without hesitation, the Sergeant swung into action, "Deuce, Spades, grab the rocket launchers and send those fekking snipers to haran!" He used hand signals to show his brothers what parts of the building containing droid snipers he wanted blown into the next galaxy.
"Sir, but the buildings, we'd bring it…"
"Do as I say for feks sake! BJ, go with Right'eye and get your shebs over to Tens now! Move it! Solitaire… Sol?"
The sergeant looked around for his sniper, he was nowhere to be seen.
"Where the fek are you Sol?"
As if to prove that point, from somewhere on top of the ruble pile, Solitaire started taking down the droid snipers one by one; his blue bolts never missing their targets.
As Deuce and Spades quickly loaded their shoulder mounted rocket launchers, Blackjack and Right'eye raced forward to the trooper in the center of the street who was desperately trying to dodge dozens of blaster bolts.
"Fek, Tens!" Right'eye slid to his brother's side, brandishing his DC-15S carbine, letting volleys of blue stream out at the droids hidden in the building.
While Right'eye laid down covering fire, Blackjack hefted Tens onto his back.
"Umph, Right'eye, I've got him, let's go!"
They retreated back to the others at the debris pile, Right'eye covering their backs as the droids continued their relentless fire.
As the three troopers made it back to the main group, Gamble turned his attention to the droids.
"Fek! Deuce, Spades what the fek are you waiting for? Fire those kriffing rockets!"
The two troopers in question both nodded, before they each fired.
Speeding away in loops and arcs, the two rockets each honed in on their respective targets, before two large explosions collapsed two different sections of the building.
Without a second to spare, the two troopers loaded their launchers again, firing at different targets.
In the course of two minutes, every single sniper position was destroyed.
When the smoke cleared, Gamble's sensors showed an all clear for enemy activity.
Gamble gave the surrounding, now heavily damaged buildings a wary look. They could come crashing down at any moment.
"Squad, status report."
"Everyone's accounted for, sir," Deuce reported, "Tens is injured, took a shot to the left shoulder and chest. BJ says he'll be all right, just needs a bacta patch or two and a stim. A few scrapes and bruises among the men, but nothing serious."
Sergeant Gamble nodded, "Good."
Turning, he made his way over to Tens and Blackjack.
He needed to have a little "chat" with the injured trooper.
4:38 pm:
Tens grimaced as the medic called Blackjack placed another cold bacta patch over his shoulder. His chest was already taken care of, thankfully, the wound there was only superficial.
"Fek that hurts," Tens said miserably. Right'eye Riot and Jumps were all crowded around in concern and support.
Gamble, projecting a cloud of anger as he approached, looked shaken from the impromptu firefight, "Fek, Eights, what were you thinking? You could've gotten yourself killed!"
Tens felt ashamed, "I wanted to get a better look down the street sir, I wasn't thinking."
"Wasn't thinking," he reiterated, "well, the next time you don't want to think, let me know and I'll save the BX's the trouble of shooting you. Is that clear Eights?"
"Fek off Gamble, his name is Tens," Right'eye frowned behind his helmet.
The Sergeant immediately turned his attention to Right'eye.
"He'll be fekking Fours by the time I finish with him."
Right'eye saw the fist coming, and decided to act first, punching the Sergeant to the ground.
That brought the rest of Gamble Squad to the group. As Blackjack hefted their Sergeant upright, Spades blistered at Right'eye, "You want to repeat that, shinie?"
The threat only pissed Right'eye off even more, "Yeah, I said f-e-k o-f-f… or was that still too fast for you?"
Both Jumps and Riot stood behind Right'eye in support, and Trevor, only a few feet away, moved his finger of the trigger of his assault rifle.
Deuce saw the move, "I wouldn't try that, wet. Those things may punch a hole, but these," he jostled his DC-15M in his hands, "these will fry your guts before you let out one round."
It was a standoff of sorts. One group sent to protect the other.
One group, for the first time, standing together.
Deuce smiled and turned his back on the Marine. Trevor didn't appreciate being called a wet; whatever that implied, he was sure wasn't good. But the Marine knew that the immediate threat had passed.
Gamble grabbed his weapon and rubbed a hand under his chin, "you shinies might just make it out alive yet."
It was time to move on and finish what they had inadvertently started.
4:42 pm:
Riot was glad the fight between Right'eye and Sergeant Gamble had ended on a high note, meaning no one had been killed.
As he picked his way around rumble, advancing with everyone else towards the National Mall, Riot tried to sort out the new group they had been attached to.
They did seem different, because they were different.
And that made him nervous.
Watching the group he had already made a mental summary of each member of this supposedly élite Gamble squad.
The Sarge himself was noisy, gruff and appeared to be in a permanent 'bad mood'. He had dents in his armor that defied his very existence.
Blackjack, or BJ as they called him was the medic, but he seemed unlike any other medic Riot had encountered. He appeared to have no real compassion; a rarity for a clone healer. Excellent at his job, but his bed side manner could do with some improving.
Deuce on the other hand was the group's larrikin*. He had taken a gauntlet off to reload his rocket launcher and Riot had noticed his extensively tattooed hand. He could only assume the ink went further up the arm and extended over his body. He, out of all of them revered his Mandalorian heritage, speaking more in their native tongue than the others. He seemed to bop along as well, and Riot could only imagine the glimmik he must be listening to in his bucket.
But it was the sniper that set Riot on edge.
Sol or Solitaire was aptly named. He hadn't spoken unless Gamble barked at him, content to let the angry Sarge do all the talking. He noticed that Sol was seemingly always on his own, just outside the fold of the group, always scanning the periphery, which also made Riot nervous. He would learn later from Deuce that a training sim on Kamino had gone horribly wrong, rendering him unable to speak for three standard months. He recuperated by spending his time honing his firing skills on the range. The Aiwa-bait then used his refocused energies and placed him in a sniper division, where he could happily spend his days in solitude. But there was a hint of something more cognitive in the loner; he may have been a ruthless killer, but Sol was not without compassion towards his fellow-man. Or so Riot hoped.
Spades on the other hand was a kleptomaniac, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Riot. In the klick or so that they had traveled so far, Riot had noticed him picking up small objects from the ground and tucking them into his utility belt. Riot even noticed Gamble point to something bright on the ground and watched as Spades swooped on it, like a magpie, before squirreling it away into his belt. This drop had seen Spades collection grow two-fold; a piece of floral material, a red button and a metallic clip of some sort.
Yeah, this group may behave with all the bravado of a clone commando unit, but each of them had a back story before they were thrust together as a new unit. They were nothing more than an élite group of recalcitrants that, on some weird level, worked well together.
And even though Riot was annoyed at the behavior and lack of self-discipline in this new group of brothers, counter to what he was used to seeing in his short time as a member of the GAR, he was glad that Gamble Squad, this time, was on his side.
A/N: Dear god, I thought I'd never get this chapter out! I can say, with certainty, that this chapter wouldn't have seen the light of day had it not been for my amazing, spectacular, and witty Beta, Ms CT-782, who as I write this is probably thanking god she's done with it as well.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed the update. It would be an understatement to say it took a while to get out, but I think it's a good one.
*Larrikin – my Beta trying to pass off Australian terms as American English…. Means hooligan for those of you who didn't know (like me).
As the PSA stated, I've started college again, and this quarter is a son of a gundark… needless to say updates, like this, will be few and far between. I'm still writing, and I actually have a backlog of content that needs revising for WAWL, I just don't have a tremendous amount of time to do so.
But, when the next chapters come out, expect them to give updates on; Cody Rex and Kenobi in the fight for the White House; an update on the air battles; Aaron, Julia, Connor and Tye and how the latter two Marines are faring with their extensive injuries; and finally, a few new plot twists to add to the many facets this story already has.
Well, that's all I have to say. Hope you all are doing well, the world seems to have gone crazy, but I take solace in the fact that fanfic is, well, still fanfic, and still full of great authors and reviewers alike.
So, please review and see you guy's when the next update comes out…
-Sly