Hello there! It's the W0lf Mast3r here with an authors note. Please hear me out, and I'll try to keep it from being excessive. I recently got feedback from one gunnerjenson on Archive of Our Own stating that my story was boring without elaborating on his opinion. After questioning his reasons for saying such, he sent the following:

"You are trying to get iconic characters to mesh in your story, but given their exploits in the show, nothing ever went smoothly except for winning the fight. You had me thinking there would be some intense action toward the end. Your work comes off as a letdown because of that. I would suggest sticking to naming the units 501st and letting your OCs do the shining instead. Mention Wolfe, Rex, and so on when the [druk] hits the fan. Cut the show out and make this about the guys you created."

Somewhat comprehensive, somewhat underexplained in my opinion (and I think he made it so I can't reply to him now, but he's still leaving reviews XD). What do you guys say? Am I boring you or are you enjoying this? Is there something you'd like to suggest? Honestly, I am open to suggestions and constructive (polite) criticism. Please, please, please, if there is something you feel should be better, let me know. I want this to be as close to perfect as my mortal brain can achieve. And if you just want to comment on a single element of the story that you enjoyed, do that too! That's all, enjoy the chapter, and don't push random buttons!

Free time! With the 501st on Coruscant, the troopers have a lot of spare time on their hands,

and Chuck has decided to spend it preparing for deployment.

With the help of Nerd, Disaster Squad's technical genius, he engineers a new weapon to give him an edge in combat.

But with its instabilities it carries great danger. Will it be a boon or a burden to the Republic Army?

The members of Disaster Squad stood and sat on crates or the floor in hangar D6 on Kamino, the LAAT/i gunship before them with its doors open and waiting, engines humming as Joystick and Dusty prepared for lift off with two other pilots from the local garrison. Each of the troopers wore his new, freshly painted armour. The red brown colour was actually quite nice looking against the white backing. Excited conversation passed between the clones as they discussed their long-awaited joining of the 303rd and the 501st Legions on the Resolute. Speculations about how large Torrent Company was, how strict General Skywalker was, and how long until their first deployment were some of the foremost topics.

The door to the hangar whooshed open and through stepped a familiar dragon folk warrior, tall vibro-axe clacking on the floor as he leaned heavily on it. Bandaging wrapped around his blue-scaled legs, and a cast supported his right arm, but he still moved with the same confident, determined gait. Following closely to him were the three ARC Troopers Raid, Shock, and Awe. The room quickly fell silent as the men stood, saluting their trainer.

"At eassse," Arjhan rasped, throat sounding raw even for him. His reptilian eyes flicked between each of the assembled clone troopers. "I cannot expresss how immensssly proud I am of you, Disaster Squad. Today, you leave your daysss as cadets behind you and enter the galaxy as soldiersss. The finessst I have ever had the honour of training. Since your birth, I have been assigned to guide and mold you into professional troopsss, but I will be honest; you are much more than that. You are my sonsss, each and every one of you. I have believed in your potential from the ssstart, never doubting though the Kaminoansss professed the mossst of you were defective, and now you prove them wrong. You are the bessst men to walk out from under my care, and I know for a fact that you will change thiss galaxy for the better. The Army iss lucky to have you."

The troopers had removed their helmets, each looking towards their instructor in gratitude. Arjhan had always expressed his belief in them, pushing them to be better, despite their many oppositions, and now it was time to leave him behind.

"Bring honour to yourselvesss and the Republic!" The trainer declared, raising his head proudly. "Fight thiss war. Win it. Embrace your talentsss, your differencesss. Join together as brothersss, and make me prouder to have trained the greatest warriorsss the GAR has ever known!"

Recoil let out a yell, raising his helmet in the air. The others followed suite, cheering wildly in determination and exhilaration. Each voiced his thanks to their mentor with loud calls and wide smiles. The dragon folk nodded, his eyes half closed in what they knew to be a mixture of pride, joy, and sorrow.

Chuck checked down the hallway furtively, making sure no one was following or taking particular interest in his doings. When the coast was confirmed to be clear, he made a quick dash towards the mechanic's room onboard the Venator class Destroyer, the Resolute. Maintenance and restocking had been finished, and the door that Generals Skywalker and Kenobi had cut a hole through had been repaired, allowing the soldiers to move back into their barracks on the ship. Why the Jedi had wrecked one of the storage areas was being withheld from everyone, leaving the clones speculating on what had transpired.

Chuck reached the door, head swivelling about as he knocked.

"Come in," the muffled voice of Nerd beckoned.

Hitting a button, Chuck entered the room, door swishing shut behind him. He crossed the room filled with shelves, desks, and charging ports. Spare parts, tools, droid pieces, commonly needed items, oils, and lubricants all resided inside, neatly organised and stacked. Nerd occupied a desk in the back. Leaning forward in his chair, he wore his helmet as he welded something together, occasionally pausing to use a cutter or other tool.

"Hey Nerd," Chuck greeted as the other clone ceased welding, taking off his helmet. "How is it?"

Nerd grinned devilishly, like someone who knew they were doing something bad and relished in the thought. "It's done. I haven't tested it, but that's your job, not mine."

Chuck leaned on the table, staring down in wonder at the circular object. A foot and a half in diameter, the solid black vibro-blade discus had a rectangular portion in the centre cut out, perfect to fit on the right gauntlet that rested beside it. The gauntlet was crafted from the same plastoids and metal alloys of normal clone armour but had several buttons to it. "It looks pretty gnarly."

Nerd whistled appreciatively, nodding. "Of course it does, I made it. I'm glad when you stole that axe from evidence back on Kamino, you had something cool in mind to use it for."

"Ah, ah, ah, not stole," Chuck chided, raising a hand. "'Tactfully acquired.' Anyway, it's not like that bounty hunter had any use for it after what Instructor Arjhan did to him."

Nerd laughed, picking up the discus and weighing it in his hands. "Whatever you call your methods of burglary, I think you'll be satisfied." He passed it to Chuck, who's eyebrows shot up at how perfectly light it felt.

"This thing is a featherweight. You sure it can take a clanker out?"

"Duh," Nerd scoffed, standing and grabbing his helmet. "It's a vibro-blade. Until you ignite it, it's pretty much just thin metal. Once you do though... it'll be something."

"I guess the only way to figure that is to test it out," Chuck said with a lopsided grin.

Nerd chuckled, making towards the door. "Let's hope we don't decapitate anyone." Chuck followed him out into the hall, attaching the gauntlet to his armour and then the discus to the gauntlet in turn.

The trip to the training room was uneventful, going down halls and catching a lift in an elevator. They passed by several troopers of the 501st, all who gave the disc in Chuck's possession a double take. He strutted proudly, brandishing it awesomely. After ten minutes of showboating, they reached their destination through one of the alternate doors which were opposite to the barracks. As they opened automatically, an interesting scene was laid out before Nerd and Chuck.

Sterling, Vaughn, Leroy, and Shuriken practised shooting targets at one end of the room, the fourth being the most accurate shot, hitting several bullseyes in a row. Across the way, Hardcase and Recoil were butting heads, literally. They argued about who was better with a rotary cannon, while Jesse tried to intercede and placate them into a civil agreement to no avail. Nearby, Chase and Echo both worked on dual wielding with their blasters, shooting at a few training bots that bobbed and weaved between and behind cover. Various clones used the brand-new workout equipment, huffing and grunting as they pushed past what most people could accomplish. Hotshot and Fives lounged on a stack of crates, jeering at the three people who duelled in the centre of the gym.

Anakin, Ahsoka, and Raid sparred with their lightsabers, light flashing and blades humming as the clone and the Padawan fended off the more experienced swordsman. Chuck found himself staring as they clashed, dodged, and thrusted, remembering that a few days prior the ARC Commander had been involved in an incident inside the Jedi Temple. Whispers and rumours claimed that he had bested Mace Windu in one-on-one combat, which he found difficult to believe. Then again, his commanding officer was definitely improving in both skill and courage, though not enough to best a Jedi probably.

"Go on, Jedi Slayer! Kick his rear!" Fives called out jocularly, earning a glare from Raid. Skywalker took that chance to swing at the clone, narrowly missing as he all but threw himself backwards.

"You're distracted," Anakin scolded, blocking Ahsoka and forcing her back with rapid strokes. "Concentrate."

"How can I when I have these howler-hogs hooting at me constantly?" He griped, charging the Jedi. Anakin spun away while Raid kept at him with the tip of his saber angled towards him. Skywalker suddenly batted it away and tripped him over with a waiting leg. As Raid tumbled, Ahsoka came up on Anakin and began whaling furiously, trying for a weak spot in her master's impeccable defense.

"Hey," Nerd whispered, jostling Chuck. "Why don't you throw in some support for the underdogs?"

Chuck snorted a laugh, taking the disk into his hands. "How do I make it return?"

"Hit the green button to ignite it. It'll begin flashing when the disc is on its way back," he explained, pointing out the button in question on the gauntlet. "It decides when to come back after an amount of time. If you want it earlier, you press the blue one."

Chuck nodded, activating it. The discus began humming with life as Chuck brought his arm back for a good throw. "General!"

The duelists and many clones looked over as he swung his clenched fist around his body, pivoting his waist about at he launched the discus at maximum strength. It flew harder and faster than Chuck had thought at first, watching it gyrate in the air directly at the Jedi.

"Whoa!" Anakin yelped, ducking as the discus flew overhead and past him, curving slightly up as it bounced off the top of a pull-up bar. Clones gawked as it continued towards the end of the room. General Skywalker whirled on the troopers; eyes widened in surprise. "What was-?"

"Incoming!" Vaughn shouted frantically as the disc bounced off a wall and came back on a collision course with the Jedi. Anakin dodged to the side, but not completely away from the spinning circle of doom as it impacted his hand. Chuck held up his gauntleted arm and the weapon instantly flipped its side over, attaching to his arm with a little kickback. Chuck's joy at the success of his weapon was short lived when he saw the Jedi's right-hand laying on the floor.

"G-General- I am so sorry! I-uh," Chuck gasped as the dismembered hand began crawling towards his feet. It was then he noticed sparks flying from wires where blood and gore should've been spilling out and the General's look of amused concentration. "Wha-?"

"It's a prosthetic," Anakin laughed, ceasing to use the Force to make the hand crawl. It collapsed lifelessly, still sparking. "It's fine, though that'll be the second hand this week. New toy?"

"Uh, yeah," Chuck held it up as several people, both Jedi included, approached. As Anakin crossed the floor, he lifted the prosthetic hand into his remaining grasp telekinetically. "Nerd and I have been working on it since we left Kamino." Nerd cleared his throat, a brow raised high. Chuck rolled his eyes. "Alright, Nerd made it, but I had the idea."

"Where'd you get the materials?" Bolt, one of the 501st's few engineers, asked, crossing his arms. "We don't have any vibro-blades."

Nerd waved a hand, smiling. "Never mind that, we have a working discus that returns both automatically and upon command prompt."

"Plays into his throwing arm," Chase said in understanding, holstering his blasters and approaching. "How far can it go? How does it come back?"

"First question; it depends on what button you press before you throw it. Short range is thirty metres, long range is a hundred." Some of the guys chuckled, imagining the amount of power needed to launch something that far. Nerd continued, "Second question; small repulsor-lift projectors I found lying around in a mech bay a while back. Probably for a droid or something. When it reaches the limit or impacts an object, it reverses direction and seeks out the gauntlet. It slows and turns so it can reconnect."

Anakin whistled, looking aside from himself in astonishment. "You built that in the... two and a half weeks you've been with us?"

Nerd shook his head. "I've been working on the computer, sensors, and repulsors for ages. I was originally planning on making a returning Warhammer, but then I thought, 'What moron would throw a perfectly good hammer?' The discus makes more sense, anyway; plus, it looks totally sick."

"Now that I think we can all agree on," Ahsoka admired, running a finger down the disk's edge. "Sharp. Mind demonstrating?"

Chuck grinned widely. "Thought you'd never ask. Everyone should step back." It didn't take another caution to get everyone to step away from the trooper. He waited until he had an extra wide blood circle before pressing a button on his gauntlet and removing the weapon from its perch. Aware of everyone's gaze, he brought his arm back and shifted his stance to give it an impressive throw. Taking a deep breath, he hurled it around his shoulder, loosening his grasp and feeling the cool metal slip off his fingertips. The discus spun at a rapid speed, speeding across the room in only a second before impacting the wall. It bounced, but not back towards Chuck. Instead, it went down the opposite wall and with a metallic scraping noise glanced off of a stack of crates. It spun wild, now tilted almost vertically, pinging off the floor and past Shuriken, who looked stunned.

"Chuck," Anakin called apprehensively, flinching as the disk bounced by him.

Chuck hit the return button but had no response from his disk. Sweat began beading his forehead as he realised it was out of control. "I can't resummon it. It's LOOSE!"

Hardcase and Recoil both yelped in terror, diving away from the murderous dinner plate of death as it scraped the floor where they had been. Echo tackled Chase from its path, preventing him from being decapitated.

"Get in cover!" Sterling shouted frantically, doing so behind a large box. The discus pinged from the box and at Chuck. The clone barely twisted in time, feeling the wind rush past his face. As it continued on towards the door, it swooshed open, Shock walking in.

"Hey guys, I-"

"LOOK OUT!" Shuriken screamed at the ARC Trooper.

"Monkey feathers!" Shock yipped, falling flat on his stomach as the discus flew out of the training room and into the barracks. Several voices yelled, hollered, or screeched as commotion erupted. The loud crashes of things falling over and the high-speed airborne object striking the walls rang through the ship. And then there was silence. Without a word, the occupants of the room rushed to the door, eyes widening at the destruction.

Several bunks were tipped over, bedding spilt about the ground. Several posters and pictures were torn in half, floating listlessly in the air. A beheaded protocol droid lay twitching and sparking near the exit. Clones huddled behind metal crates and tipped beds, looking out in fear. In the centre of the room Wedge lay on the floor groaning, a crate of armour pieces atop him. Chest-plates, boots, shin guards, and various other articles were littered about. Inside the crate itself was the discus, embedded into the bottom.

"Oh..." Chuck mumbled as Kix left his hiding place inside a closet. The medic began checking on people, making his way to the downed trooper. Anakin, Raid, and Hotshot rushed in past the guilt-ridden clone in the doorway. The four responders circled around Wedge, with Kix kneeling to assess him.

"Are you dead?" Hotshot asked suddenly, standing over the prone clone. "Can I have your gun if you're dead?" He was glared into silence by Raid.

Wedge groaned, pushing the crate off his body, slowly sitting up with support from Kix. "I'm still alive, and you can't touch the 'Spanker'. What the hell was that thing?"

"That," Anakin stated, kicking the box over. "Is Chuck's discus. There was a mishap with the return feature."

"Well, not technically," Nerd volunteered jocularly. "It's built to destroy stuff. I think it performed admirably." Several troopers grumbled in response, beginning to clean up.

Shuriken walked in, wrinkling his nose at Nerd. "If admirably means your crap trashed our place, then it is extremely effective."

Nerd turned on Chuck, who was feeling quite bad for the nearly lethal incident. His accomplice, though, wasn't so perturbed, wagging a finger and grinning. "See? If even Shuriken acknowledges its effectiveness, then you know my crap is awesome."

Chuck grunted, walking up to his friend. "We need to clean up the mess. Afterwards, we need to figure out where it went wrong."

Anakin stepped forward with his left hand upraised. "Ah, well, I suggest you be more... careful with your tests. Try not to wreck my ship again."

"Yessir!" Nerd saluted smartly. "We'll try not to, though I can't guarantee it won't happen anyway."

Anakin snorted a laugh. "I guess that's the best you can offer. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get a prosthetic hand... again."

Jesse knew he should've stayed in bed today.

His day had started off fine enough, but that had quickly changed when he got in between Hardcase and Recoil in a confrontation about machine guns. Why were they fighting about something as stupid as who's better with a Z-6 was beyond him, but it soon became worse when Chuck and Nerd had brought out that disk on doom. It had nearly killed several people, Jesse included, who had barely ducked it in time. Following that was a complete reorganising of the barracks and a repair job of several beds.

Now Jesse was finally out in the Coruscant air, beneath the overcast sky. He walked the streets in all his armour except for the helmet, going around crowds with Hardcase, Wedge, Redeye, and Mixer close behind him, all dressed the same and all on their way to 79s. Though it was a bit early in the afternoon for drinking, Hardcase had been feeling bored and decided to stop at the bar, dragging the other four along with him.

"You're gonna love it," Hardcase was telling Wedge, who had never been to a bar before, nevertheless 79s. "They make a mean Alderaanian cocktail."

Redeye frowned, looking back at the two. "Maybe he should start with something a little less... potent? He hasn't had anything like that before."

Mixer laughed loudly, shoving his brother. "That's the best way to start! Besides, we might get a repeat of the Jogan incident."

"Jogan incident?" Wedge asked, befuddlement written across his features.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Jesse told him, twisting not to bump a large yellow droid carrying crates. "Just stick with me and don't get too much to drink. You'll feel when you near your limits, and that's where willpower comes in."

"Are you guys sure about this one?"

Mixer slapped his shoulder. "What, are you chickening out? I thought you were the manliest dude on your team?"

Wedge straightened, wrinkling his nose. "Of course I am. Just shut up and show me to that bar."

"That's the spirit!" Hardcase proclaimed, laughing. "This will be epic."

"Hey," Redeye began, sounding slightly alarmed. "Uh, guys, maybe we should, um, take a shortcut in that alley?"

"What?" Mixer asked in confusion. "What the..." He caught his breath. Jesse turned and instantly his eyes widened. A man with tan skin and jet-black dread locks had his arm around the clone, a friendly look on his face, yet his eyes held a deadly gaze. The red tattoos going across the bridge of his nose and marking his cheeks signified him a Kiffar, which was a near human species from Kiffu and Kiffex. Jesse realised in alarm that the man held a blaster behind Redeye's back, prodding the trooper subtly. Eyes darting around, he noticed six other thugs, mostly humans with a Quarren, surrounded them, casually hovering their hands near the blasters on their belts.

Cursing silently for their lack of weapon, Jesse smiled his best smile. "What can we do for you, friends?"

The Kiffar returned the smile seemingly genuinely. "Hey man, I'm Jephir. We just thought to be neighbourly and help you towards your destination. We have a speeder to getcha there in no time." He had a laid-back tone to his voice, which was somewhat deep and manly.

"Not this again," Wedge muttered as a dark human stepped closer, flashing a toothy grin paired with an evil stare. "I think I hate this city."

"Come on, man. This is usually a nice place," Jephir said pointedly, glancing from clone to clone. "At least, as nice as anywhere in this warring galaxy." The Kiffar spoke with an undercurrent of accusation. "Anywho, let's go. The bar awaits." He prodded Redeye again, but the trooper didn't budge.

"I don't think ya heard my pard," the other man said, gesturing towards the other goons with their guns in reach. "Don't wanna make a scene here, now would ya? Let's move 'fore fingers start gettin' itchy."

Jesse nodded, waving the others after. "Yeah, of course not." As he brought his hand down, he quickly crossed and hit a button on his wrist, hoping that someone would be paying attention back at the Resolute. "When we get there, you and your friends can have a drink with us."

"That'd be nice," Jephir said coolly. "Very nice, man.

"Alright... test thirty-six," Nerd said, ducking behind a crate in the training room. "Commence."

Chuck got into his stance, bringing the discus back and throwing it with power. As it spun through the air, he hit the return button. The thing almost stopped and hovered for a split-second before coming back at him. Twisting in the air, it reattached itself to Chuck's gauntlet, making him stumble a little.

"Test thirty-six, major success," Nerd analysed, peeking over the crate. "It took longer than it was supposed to for finding you."

Chuck glanced over at him. "It was so fast. It barely stopped for a blink."

"It's not supposed to stop at all," Nerd tutted, ambling over. "Maybe it's the computer." He reached for the disc, but Chuck retracted his arm from him, sighing in exasperation.

"We've been at this for hours, Nerd! I don't think it'll go haywire. Besides, aren't you tired?"

Nerd shook his head vigorously, typing something into his wrist computer. "I never get tired of stuff like this. I just want to be sure-"

"All units prepare for action," Captain Rex's voice came over the intercom. "This is not a drill. Prepare for deployment and form up in your Squads. Torrent Company is to be ready in the hangar. Fang Company, move to the bridge ASAP. Repeat, this is not a drill."

"Deployment?" Chuck scrunched his brow in confusion, watching as the barracks through the windows came to life, troopers pulling on armour and fetching weapons. "On Coruscant?"

"We might be going somewhere," Nerd offered, beginning a jog to the doors. "You heard the captain; we're needed on the bridge."

"Right behind you," Chuck replied, running after him.

Five minutes later, Chuck and Nerd rushed onto the main bridge, both with their helmets under an arm and in full armour.

"Good, you're here," Raid said, arms folded as he turned his helmet back to the central console. The rest of Disaster Squad and Fang Company was assembled, with the exception of Wedge. Rex leaned on the large console, a look of seriousness and anger engraved on his face. Kix stood nearby with a look of worry, beside him a frustrated Vaughn and Coric. Anakin and Ahsoka were also in the group. The Padawan was glancing in concern at here Master, who's hard expression and steely glare promised death. "We're going to play back Commander Fox's communique."

"Fox?!" Hotshot asked suddenly, eyes slightly widened.

Rex nodded. "There's been an incident in the city that requires our attention." He pressed a button, and a blue hologram of the Coruscant Guard's commander appeared, standing in full armour and gripping a carbine.

"Captain Rex," the recording began as Fox's no-nonsense voice played out for all to hear. "I wouldn't call you if it wasn't urgent. In several sectors of the city there have been problems taking place. Several riots and a few small explosives were set off. I sent my troops to mop them up, but they're proving stubborn. That's when a ransom call came in for the release of captives in exchange for the release of several Separatist prisoners we hold and the withdrawal of our forces from an Outer Rim world currently embroiled in a siege." The clone disappeared and was replaced by an image of two dozen people tied up in a room. Amongst them were several clone troopers who were easily recognisable. Several armed guards surrounded them.

"Wedge?!" Several troopers burst out in the room. At the same time, several others were shouting "Hardcase?!" "Jesse?!" "Mixer?!" or "Redeye?!"

"Lock it down," Rex ordered as the audio was continuing.

"They have taken several Senators and their families hostage, along with clone troopers from your Legion. My forces are spread thin at the moment, between the 65th being a newly instated policing unit, needing to keep soldiers on normal duties in the city, and the Chancellor being on his yearly trip around Coruscant. I need your unit to provide back-up and to aid in anti-terrorist operations. We are trying to track the hostages, but it's tough right now. Most of the city cameras have been sabotaged. Whoever is behind this has been planning well and hard. I'll meet you at the Area 12 base at 1500." The recording ended.

"Terrorists?" Evals asked, concern evident in his voice.

Anakin nodded, gritting his teeth. "The sleemos tried to abduct Padmé, er, Senator Amidala from her residence earlier today. Luckily, her guards are competent. She called me just before Fox did Rex."

"Hold up," Nerd made a T with his arms. "A terrorist group wants an end to war and are trying to achieve it by... causing riots, making small detonations, and kidnapping people?"

Vaughn snorted, unclipping his helmet from his belt and putting it on. "Probably Separatist sympathisers. They have a funny way of trying to cause peace."

"They had better not do anything to Wedge," Chase snarled. "How do we know where they took them?"

"A few hours ago, Jesse activated his tracking beacon," Anakin informed him, putting his hands on his hips. "Obviously the captors aren't very experienced, because it still is active, transmitting his location."

"We have to get that information to Commander Fox," Rex announced, placing his own helmet where it belonged. "Joystick, Area 12 is the base you picked the boys up from. You ferry Fang Company there."

Joystick nodded, sharing a glance with Hotshot and Recoil, who both looked slightly nervous. What was their deal? "Gotcha Captain. Dusty and I will have a gunship ready to go." He motioned for the other pilot to follow as he turned and jogged to the door.

Rex looked over at Kix and Vaughn. "I want you two to round several squads up in two gunships. Tell Boomer to have his ARF boys standing by with a transport just in case."

"Yessir!" They responded with salutes, running off on assignment. Rex turned to Coric and began relaying some instructions.

"Alrighty boys," Raid addressed his troopers. "Commander Fox is waiting for us. Let's go!"

"Sir!" They called in unison before making towards the door. They squad moved together down the halls, occasionally coming across others doing the same as them. It only took a few minutes for them to get their weapons and make it to the main hangar with its large door open. Inside, troops and flight crews bustled about. Yelling, clanks, and footfalls echoed through the cavernous bay, almost drowned out by the roar of engines preparing for takeoff. They began loading up in the gunship Joystick had chosen; a generic one with only 501st markings on it. A sign hung from the front, in between the main cannons, reading 'Kiss My Butt.'

"Welcome aboard Air Joystick," the pilot spoke over the speakers inside as Chuck situated himself, standing beside Mike and Chase. He checked his discus, which he had decided to bring along for the ride. Who knew, it might prove useful. "Today we'll be touring the upper city of the lovely Coruscant. Please leave all pets and cowardice outside the gunship, for we fly in awesomeness, and I don't like shedding in my ship. Thank you!"

Last to get on were the three ARC Troopers and the droid, Mate, who whooped angrily about being taken off his charging port. Once inside, the side doors closed and the gunship rumbled beneath Chuck's feet, making him stumble a little before remembering about the flight handles on the roof.

"We are now underway," Dusty announced.

"Had to pick the one without windows?" Recoil grumbled after a few minutes. The ships interior was lit by red lights, which cast dramatic shadows and colours upon the troopers, but Chuck did kind of wish he could see the city as they flew.

"Meh, we've already seen the view," Rocky retorted boredly. "I'm personally sick of this place. All there is to see are buildings, glass, steel, lights, and crime. Thank the Force that we're getting actually deployed soon. I wonder where we'll go."

"Wherever there are clankers that need blasting," Awe chuckled, hefting his rifle in emphasis. "I think I agree with Rocky. We've been sedentary for too long."

Hotshot snorted sarcastically. "Yeah, running from ghosts, crooks, Chancellors, and angry shopkeepers is really sedentary. All the more reason to get out of here though."

"I think it's quite nice," Evals joined. "Not the criminals, but the large city, the variety of people and cultures, and the lights at night are wonderful."

Mike shouldered his brother. "Sounding wishy washy with the lights talk."

"Pfft, you can have nightly lights from the stars without all the pollution and the city if we landed at a nice, peaceful world," Rocky rejoined, checking his carbine. The trooper glanced at Chuck. More specifically, Rocky glanced at the discus. "You taking that thing with you?"

"It's working much better," he replied, raising it a little on his right arm. "Nerd and I got it tuned up."

"From the destruction earlier, I'd say it needs more than a 'tune up'," Shock joked, earning chuckles from the men.

Nerd cleared his throat. "Actually, all I needed to do was recalibrate the proximity sensors on the main body of the discus and the signal receptor for the gauntlet's return feature so that when Chuck activates it, it doesn't go screwy-balooey but instead returns as it is designed to. I also fine-tuned the range sensor so that it is better able to calculate and measure the flight distance that it has travelled from its focal point of reference. Finally, I adjusted the impact reader to a lower setting so that it can accurately figure when it has struck the target or just an obstacle to allow for ricocheting manoeuvres then refigured the inner-gyroscopic mechanisms in the repulsors so that it has a faster rotation cadence timing upon return." Everyone fell quiet as troopers attempted to translate what he just said.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Shuriken asked bluntly after a minute of absolute silence.

"I've no idea what you mean," Nerd said with a smirk to his voice.

Joystick spoke up over the comms. "We're coming in at the LZ. Fox is waiting down there. Oh, and be advised to all you newbies, get out of the ship but don't get crushed by the incoming gunships behind us. Don't want to clean your paste from the pad."

Several of the squad members muttered to each other as the ship set down, jerking a little. The side doors slid open, allowing the clones to pour out into the late afternoon air. Chuck took in the sight of several other ships landed on the pad along with troopers of various units ready and waiting, along with several astromechs that bustled between groups. Marching up to the pad was Commander Fox, flanked by two of his troopers gripping rifles, all three in signature 65th red.

"Look at the turn out," Hotshot mumbled as the two gunships from the 501st landed, depositing General Skywalker, Commander Tano, Captain Rex, and the blue marked troops of Torrent Company. "Who all is here?"

"That's the 327th Star Corp," Shock informed, pointing at a group of about fifteen yellow marked clones that rowdily waited at their ship. "There's the 212th." Fourteen troopers of a variety of shiny and orange marked armour all stood at attention, lined up behind their commander, Cody, who had a visor and an antenna on his left shoulder. He lacked a kama or a pauldron, which seemed strange for an ARC Trooper.

"Who're the purple dudes?" Recoil asked, wandering over with the machine gun he had dubbed 'Lightning' propped up on his shoulder. It was accentuated with painted blue bolts running down the sides.

Shock thought for a moment, watching as their leader marched over towards Fox. "I believe that's the 187th."

Chuck cocked his head, watching all eighteen of the purple marked clones remain near their gunship, standing at ease. "You mean General Windu's group?"

"I thought that was the 91st," Hotshot said, sizing them up. "Not a very manly colour, in my opinion ."

"I think he leads both. As for the colour, they may see it differently," Shock replied slowly as all of the unit leaders and Jedi present converged to converse. They spoke rapidly, and Captain Rex produced a holoprojector, displaying something. Fox nodded, turning to Skywalker who shrugged and said something else. After a moment, the leaders all broke up and approached their units again. Raid stopped in front of the Outer Rim Garrison, who looked at him expectantly.

"We're splitting the troops up to support the 65th at several locations," he explained, pointing down towards the other units who were already splitting up. "Shock, you have Evals, Dusty, Joystick, and Mike. You'll be transporting some of the Torrent guys and Commander Tano down to the Freedom Monument Plaza to reinforce some riot troopers that are mopping up."

"Got it." Shock motioned for the two troopers to follow him into the gunship. Already, Vaughn was bringing a squad over.

"Awe, you'll be hitching a ride with the 327th boys to the capitol," he continued. "Take Rocky, Speedo, Chase, and Tunnel. A protest on the cusps of going violent is underway and the 65th is having the most trouble there."

Awe nodded. "Wilco. You heard the Commander; move your donks on the double!" The clones laughed as they jogged away, leaving Recoil, Nerd, Hotshot, Shuriken, and Chuck standing with the remaining ARC Trooper.

Raid motioned for them to follow him. "We're accompanying Commander Fox and Captain Rex to follow Jesse's signal to its origin."

"Great," Hotshot mumbled sarcastically. "Working with Fox."

"What's wrong with Fox?" Chuck asked as they made their way towards where Rex conversed with Anakin, and Fox.

"It's nothing," Nerd interjected quickly. "It's probably about his whole being arrested business." It wasn't convincing, and honestly it sounded like they were hiding something, but Chuck just let it go. They had more pressing things to worry about.

"Commander Raid," Fox greeted, looking over the ARC's followers. "These are your picks?"

"Yes sir," Raid responded.

"Good. We have the rest of the units splitting off to deal with the insurgency. Several troopers from each will be accompanying us to the location of CT 5597's tracker."

Anakin folded his arms, glancing away as more soldiers began to gather at their place. "We have to go in via speeder. Gunships will give them an early warning that we're coming."

Fox nodded, gesturing to his two shock troopers. They dashed towards the line of parked speeders. Chuck shuffled in anticipation, watching Joystick take off with Ahsoka and Evals sitting and swinging their legs over the edge like little kids, thirty feet in the air and rising.

Chuck learned that he hated traffic with a passion.

Soaring through the Coruscant city's bustling and speeding air traffic in an open-topped speeder with zero protection between him and all the maniacs commuting and joyriding made him feel incredibly insecure. Chuck found himself cringing and bracing every time another speeder crossed above them, rushing wind over them. His eyes flashed in a panicked manner all over the place, trying to watch out for potential disasters, though none ever came. Chuck was appalled that none of the other passengers even paid attention to the crazy manoeuvring citizens of the largest city in the galaxy.

At the base, their group had been split between three speeders. Chuck rode in one driven by a 65th trooper, along with Recoil, Kix the medic, and two guys from the 327th named Lieutenant Galle and Fin, both carrying borrowed riot shields from the 65th, the Lieutenant having macrobinoculars attached to his helmet, while Fin had a backpack with the red medical symbol emblazoned on the side and flap. Through the rushing traffic, the other speeders filled with clones could be seen, all headed towards the area Jesse's tracker had been leading them.

"Hey Recoil, you think it could be a trap?" Chuck asked.

The heavy gunner glanced over, Z-6 laying on his lap. "What makes you think that?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Doesn't it seem a little... easy to find them?"

"... maybe? I mean, it could be. Though, if it is," Recoil patted his machine gun. "Me and Lightning can handle 'em easy."

Chuck cocked his head. "What's with you?"

"Me what?"

"With the Z-6. You treat it like a... baby."

Recoil pulled his gun closer, slightly hugging it. "I haven't an idea what you're talking 'bout."

"You're always keeping it polished, and you have a box of your spare blankets to bundle it in."

"Top shape guns perform the best," Recoil defended. "And the cushioning keeps it in top shape when the other maniacs are bumbling around the barracks."

Chuck snorted. "The only maniac is you. Don't think I haven't overheard you whispering it to 'sleep'."

Recoil grunted and the other passengers chuckled while the speeder turned off to the left, landing at an uncrowded corner with the other two. The riders all piled out efficiently, gathering around Fox.

"We are a few blocks from the location which our scouts have confirmed as a bar and the adjacent apartment complex," Fox briefed. "Our records show them both as privately owned by the same association, though they haven't been in active use for a while. Intel says they have ties to the Separatists on Onderon. Scouts have called in armed sentries, so a fight is expected. We'll be splitting into groups to raid the location."

Captain Rex stepped forward; helmet tucked beneath an arm. "We've picked out the three entrances to enter through. Kix, Leroy, and Raid will join General Skywalker and I at the front door of the apartment building; we'll engage first. Shuriken and Nerd will take sniper position on another nearby apartment's roof. Fox's scouts have secured it and will get you situated."

Shuriken nodded, unslinging his rifle from his shoulder. "Will do, Captain."

Fox gestured to Chuck's group. "Lieutenant Galle will take Fin, Recoil, Hotshot, and Chuck to capture the bar from the far side. I'll lead the rest through the back of the apartments. We wait for General Skywalker's signal to move in. I want everyone to check their fire for civvies in the area along with potential hostages. We are going to give them a chance to surrender peacefully, as they are Republic citizens. Only engage if they act in hostility. Any questions?"

Hotshot raised his hand quickly. "What do we do if they surrender?"

Fox tilted his helmet towards the trooper. "Then you detain them peacefully."

Hotshot nodded; hand still raised. "And once we clear the bar?"

"You report in on your status and the bar's. Further orders will be decided from then."

"What if you don't respond?"

"Then call in to one of the other officers," Fox replied tersely, beginning to sound annoyed.

"What do we do if you all get beaten by the terrorists?"

"Is this your first mission?" Fox asked bluntly, skipping the question.

"Yessir!"

Several men muttered about shinies as Fox crossed his arms. "Well, you have the Lieutenant in your group. He is experienced and will lead you in any eventuality, understood?"

Hotshot saluted smartly. "Understood!" A snarky undertone was barely hinted in his voice.

Anakin was smirking as he waved to his group. "Alright, we have our orders. Let's move into position. We'll comm in once it's time." He and his troopers began walking in the direction of the apartment block, turning down an alley. Fox and his men followed, staying several steps behind, while Nerd and Shuriken hopped into a speeder. With a wave to Chuck, Nerd pulled out and joined traffic.

One of the yellow marked troopers cleared his throat. When he spoke, he had a laid back and calm voice, almost amused sounding. "Okie dokie, I'm the lieutenant. I've got all your names, so introductions aren't needed. If you'll kindly follow me," he began jogging towards a different alleyway than the others had taken. The other men quickly fell into place behind him as they entered the passage between two buildings. Several overflowing dumpsters occupied the alley along with a few boxes. The foul smell was mostly filtered out through the helmets they wore, though the disgusting mounds of trash were not pleasing to behold. Lizard-rat hybrid creatures scurried in frenzies, devouring the waste that littered the group around the receptacles.

"So, Lieutenant," Recoil began.

"Call me Galle. That's my name."

Recoil chuckled. "Okay. How'd you get wrapped up in this, Galle?"

He shrugged, not losing his steady rhythm of steps. "Same way as you, I guess. Bly got a call from the commander, and we came to help with the mobs and stuff. Didn't expect there to be any terrorist action, 'specially on Coruscant."

"Yeah, the city hasn't been very hospitable to us," Hotshot said in contempt.

Fin snorted. "It never is for us clones. People afraid of us, or don't like us, or think we're easy pickings for some scam 'cos we're cloned. It gets tiring."

"Now, there are plenty of nice things here," Galle chided as they exited the alley onto a street. They turned right and began down. Any pedestrians made certain to give them a wide berth, suspicious eyes on the troopers' weapons or helmets. Galle turned his head back towards the others. "Of course, it doesn't help our cause if we're prancing around armed to the teeth." He rattled his carbine in emphasis, laughing slightly. "Speaking of arms, whatcha have growing on yours, Chuck?"

"Huh?" Chuck looked at his arms and realised what the Lieutenant was talking about. "Oh, that's my custom weapon. It's a throwing discus that returns... usually."

"Usually?" Fin asked sceptically.

"There have been some... bugs before, though Nerd is sure they're past."

"So, it didn't return?"

"Yeah," Recoil said with contempt. "And it tried to remove everyone's heads. It had zero control and bounced around the room like a ball."

Galle snickered. "Sounds like real fun." He looked at his wrist computer, humming something to himself. "We're closing on the target area." Glancing up, he nodded towards a slightly dilapidated structure. The paint was beginning to peel from the three-floor building, the dirty windows looking in sore need of a polishing. An off neon sign saying the Sloshing Tankard hung from overtop the double door. Behind the building rose a taller and wider building: the apartment complex. "That's it, boys. We're gonna set up shop somewhere near it, but far enough away that we're not insta-spotted and then insta-killed."

"Would the back door be a preferable entrance?" Chuck asked, trying to spot any armed terrorist-looking people. The crowd was beginning to thicken around them, making it hard to pick out anything specific.

"Yes, it would" the lieutenant acknowledged, gesturing towards a narrow path between two larger buildings. "Can't just waltz in through the front now, can we?"

"Heh, says you," Recoil grumbled, hefting his Z-6 as they made their way into this next alley, which turned out to be much cleaner with the trash neatly stored and the rodents at a minimum. Crossing it, they came to the opposite mouth. Fin peeked around before ducking back quickly.

"Doesn't seem to be guarded," he observed, gripping his carbine.

"Doesn't mean it ain't," Galle replied, sitting on a crate and propping his riot shield on the wall. "Check yourselves and prep to go in at the signal from Fox. Keep the chatter to a minimum."

Chuck unslung his rifle, checking the clip which was at full charge. Sliding the bolt on the side, he sat himself on his own box. Recoil stood out in the middle, while Hotshot and Fin both leaned against the wall. All of them quietly kept watch, heads rotating slowly to watch both entrances. Leaning out a tad, Chuck peered at the back wall of the bar. The solid wall lacked windows, leaving a flat grey surface broken only by the single wooden door. Multiple graffitied pieces scrawled across the wall, some in undecipherable languages. One in galactic basic wrote 'Kriff the Clones, End the War!' It depicted bloody trooper helmets on pikes, each one branded with a rude word on the forehead. Another one read, 'Disable the Meat Droids!' Chuck blinked, shocked as he read more hateful messages, mostly aimed at the clones. A few disparaged the Jedi, calling them warlords and tyrants.

He jerked back to attention when a blaster shot rang out, followed quickly by several others in rapid succession. Galle sprang to his feet as his comm came alive with Commander Fox's voice.

"Move in! We're engaging hostiles at the front entrance. All squads, secure your areas."

"You heard the man," Galle said, raising his gun. "We're on! Take positions at the door." Chuck ran after the others out into the back street, DC-15A ready. The small number of pedestrians mostly scattered in fright, though one or two stayed, retrieving phones from their pockets. Ignoring them, the clones took up positions on either side of the door, pressed against the wall. Through some of the fleeing bystanders, Chuck glimpsed several other clones breaking down the back doors of the apartment complex, entering. Galle lowered his binoculars, pressing a button on the side as he scanned up and down the bar. "We've got heat sigs inside. Looks to be about twelve of them, seven on the bottom, three on the second, and two up top. Fin and I will lead with the shields, Chuck next on high, Hotshot after going low. Recoil brings up the rear and defends. Use non-lethal rounds unless necessary; these are still citizens. Copy?"

"Yes sir," the others responded. As Galle's free hand inched towards the door, Chuck jittered in anticipation. He steeled himself, thinking back to the breaching manoeuvres they had practised back on Kamino. He couldn't help but remember how trainer Arjhan had referred to doors as the 'fatal funnel'; they were an easy place to get pinned under fire and trapped. They would have to move quickly and yet clear the rooms effectively. As Arjhan had said countless times, 'smooth is fast and fast is smooth,' meaning not to move faster than one could shoot, but fast enough to overwhelm the enemy, which was a fast walk.

Galle tentatively jiggled the handle. "It's locked, but not firm. I'm knocking it down. Fin has the flashbang." The other trooper nodded, hooking his carbine to his belt and producing the explosive. Galle backed away a foot or two, holding his shield ready. "Ready. Breach!" He charged, smashing the door inwards by using his body weight behind the shield before ducking back. Fin, raising his shield, lobbed the grenade inside, stepping out of firing sight. An instant later, a loud bang interrupted the mostly quiet air, making the few civilians nearby flinch and retreat somewhat. "Move!" The lieutenant ordered as he stormed the freshly revealed back room of the kitchen, the other clones following in suit. The kitchen was dirty and cluttered, with dishes piled on counters, empty mugs sitting by flagons, and a stale ale smell lingering in the air. Several boxes lay on the floor, some open, some not. The room went forwards to a bar and turning round the corner. The front room could be viewed, occupied by numerous tables, chairs, and a few crates. Five men were in view: two humans on the near side of the bar who were stumbling back from the door, a Rodion who lay unconscious from the grenade, and another human with a Quarren across the bar from them. All had blasters of various shapes and makes.

"Republic Army!" Fin yelled as he went left, Galle going right. Chuck followed Fin, using the 327th trooper's shield as portable cover, while Hotshot made a crouched advance behind their lieutenant. As the occupants of the bar raised their weapons towards them, the clones opened fire, stun rings quickly bringing down the two on the near side. Red laser began streaking across the room, a few striking the shields as the clones advanced, sparks flying. Chuck levelled his rifle, shooting the Quarren in the face with the non-lethal round. His companion flipped a table and took shelter behind it.

"Clones!" The man yelled, popping up to fire before being supressed.

"Watch that corner!" Galle ordered, and Chuck pivoted to aim as a tan Kiffar and a deep red Zeltron rounded it, firing at random. Chuck ducked a laser before Fin tilted his shield according to the new development. Both hostiles dove over the bar counter when stun rings came their way.

Hotshot moved behind a crate, carbine launching blue rings frequently. "We can't get held up here!"

"Flush 'em!" Galle called out, hugging the right wall now.

Hotshot fished out a concussion grenade, tossing it overhead right next to the overturned table. "Have a gift!" The enemy fighter barely dove away as it detonated, splintering the table with a magnificent crack. Fin managed to catch him with a stun shot before he could find new shelter. The Kiffar peeked over the bar, shooting Fin in the foot and making the trooper collapse with a shout.

Chuck retrieved the shield, covering both himself and the downed trooper. Lifting his rifle awkwardly in one hand, he shot back at the Kiffar, missing by inches. Peeking around the corner came two more humans who ducked back after taking a few shots. Chuck could barely see the corner of the stairs' first step. That's when Recoil advanced.

"Feel the wrath of Lightning!" He laughed, ripping away some of the bar's countertop with a burst from his rotary cannon. He repeatedly sprayed the bar, effectively trapping the two back there. "Ka-chow!" Chuck tossed his rifle behind himself and began dragging Fin back with no shortage of grunts from both of them.

"Frag out!" Galle yelled, throwing a grenade at the counter, bouncing it around the wall corner. A boom sounded seconds after along with a wounded cry. Galle dug the corner, turning round it with his blaster upraised, Hotshot supporting him. [1]

"Alright!" A deep voice called out from behind the bar. "We yield!" Recoil ceased firing, pointing his Z-6 at the Kiffar and Zeltron as they slowly rose, hands held high and unarmed.

"Get over on this floor and kneel," Recoil ordered, gesturing a few feet in front of him. "No funny business, got it?"

The Kiffar smiled grimly. "No worries, man. We're chill." Both of them complied with the clone's orders, taking positions on the floor with their hands on their heads. From around the corner, Galle dragged a light skinned human rebel with mitch-matched combat armour who writhed in pain, blood oozing from many visible wounds on his face and arms, Hotshot slowly following, carbine pointing towards the stairs and the lieutenant's shield in his offhand. The wounded man's compatriots looked over with sickened expressions as the red liquid smeared across the floor behind him.

Galle set the man down. Removing his helmet, the clone surveyed the room. Galle's face was relatively clean with sparse hairs on his chin. He sported a standard buzz-cut of his black hair. His gaze roved the scene, stopping on Fin. He grimaced. "How's the foot?"

Fin snorted. "I can walk, though a bacta-patch would be appreciated."

"Right," the lieutenant decided. "Recoil, guard the stairs. Hotshot, bind these two; we've got cuffs in the bag. Chuck, drag the others over. Fin and I will try to stabilise this chump." The clones dispersed on their various tasks, each one with one eye on the surroundings as they listened to blaster fire from outside their building.

As Chuck crossed to the gate in the bar, he paused in horror for a moment as he saw the bloody corpse of one of the insurgents by the stairs, mutilated by the frag grenade. Recoil calmly stepped over it, hoisting his machine gun up on his right hip. Gulping down rising bile, Chuck continued to retrieve the knocked-out rebels one by one, starting with the human by the splintered table. He proved easy to drag from being of average build, though the Quarren was a different story. The aquatic alien was thicker and more heavy set, making it a struggle to move him as Chuck strove not to tough its face tentacles which twitched unnervingly. He deposited it with the other five unconscious rebels as Hotshot worked in a crouch to tie them together with an ascension cable, cuffing each individual's hands separately. Beside them, Galle used a canister of biofoam to patch the torso wounds of the bloodied man on the floor who was now passed out. Fin worked diligently to bandage the head and arms, shaking his helmeted head and muttering beneath his breath. [2]

A shot rang out, and Chuck whipped his head towards the stairs to see Recoil sidestepped a second red laser, firing off a burst of blue rounds before retreating back a little. "Kriffers are holed up and shooting over the railings," Recoil spat discontentedly. "We need to clear it."

"Can't rush them," Hotshot observed, standing and brushing off his hands exaggeratedly. "We'll get murdered."

Galle turned to the awake prisoners. "Tell them to stand down."

The man shook his head vigorously. "Can't do that, dude." The Zeltron mimicked the movement, upturning his nose.

"Surrender!" Recoil hollered up the stairs. "We've got your friends in custody!"

The response was a glass bottle plummeting to the concrete floor, shattering in a flash of light and with a boom. The acrid smell of burning fuel filled the air, and a small smoke cloud expanded from the point of impact. Recoil had barely managed to stumble away from the small explosion.

"The hell?!" He spluttered, swatting a small flame that had blossomed on his left shoulder.

"I think that was an Onderonian Cocktail," Fin deadpanned, getting to his feet with some effort. "An IED of sorts. They're not budging." [3] [4]

Maybe we should just blow the place and get it done with," Recoil grumbled, stepping away from the staircase warily. "Burn them out."

Galle shook his head, frowning. "We don't want to cause excessive collateral damage to any of the buildings around."

Chuck opened the comm link on his helmet. "Hey, Shuriken? Nerd? You busy?"

Nerd's voice replied. "Nope. Whaddaya need, Chuck?"

"What can you see on the second floor of the bar?"

There was silence for a bit, then Shuriken's voice came over. "At least four contacts. It's hard to see through the windows as most doors are closed, but I can see them positioned around some railings of sorts."

Galle activated his wrist comm, joining in. "You got a shot?"

"Hmm... possibly. Might take two to break the window then hit someone. After that the rest will be aware and scatter."

Recoil huffed, firing off a round from his rotary cannon up the stairs to just make noise. "Then what? Charge?"

Fin shook his head. "We can't. They've got the high ground, giving them a huge advantage. We'd need more numbers." Chuck held his right hand to his head in frustration, conking it slightly on his discus by accident. He froze, looking at the weapon, then at the stairs. Could it...?

"I have an idea," Chuck said hurriedly, communications active. "I need you ready to take one of them out... maybe disable."

"Whatever's needed, I'm green."

Chuck turned to Galle. "Who goes up there?"

The lieutenant put his helmet on, looking at the others. "Me and you. I'll cover with the shield, while Hotshot and Fin guard the prisoners and watch the wounded. Recoil will stay at the steps in case back-up is necessary."

"Roger," the troopers responded semi-simultaneously. Galle fetched his gear and stepped towards the stairs where Recoil was awkwardly exchanging upwards fire with the enemies. Chuck silently traded his rifle for Fin's carbine, following the lieutenant.

"Call it," Galle said, shield and gun ready. With a deep breath, Chuck stepped in front of him, detaching the discus from his arm and holding it in his hand. Pulling back, he prepared to throw, aiming at the opposite wall where the stairs u-turned and finished the ascent.

"Shuriken. Fire."

A shot rang out, and glass shattered. A second follow up shot resulted in a yelp of pain. Taking the cue, Chuck hurled the disc at the wall with all the strength he could muster. The rotating weapon bounced, leaving behind a large gash in the concrete as it soared into the hall above. Chuck made a dash, taking two steps at a time as he readied his carbine, Galle hot on his tail. They climbed quickly, weapons raised, until they reached the top, holding ready as the discus returned, attaching to Chuck's waiting arm. He felt a surge of pride at the success of his tool, but that quickly faded as he beheld its effects. A man lay on the floor, cradling his leg where a trickle of smoke wisped from a blaster wound. A blue Rodion lay dead on the ground, a huge gash across his chest bleeding out. Another guy who wore a helmet with a face mask was sprawled further down the hall, the metal protective gear on his head dented. Judging from the rise and fall of his chest, he was merely unconscious. Finally, a young man clothed in common clothes crouched on the ground, hands protectively sheltering his head. He gazed at the clones in terror, raising his arms in surrender. He was unarmed, blaster laying on the floor several feet away, sliced cleanly in half.

Galle approached him, carbine levelled. "Stand up. Is there anyone else in the building?"

"N-no sir," the man replied fearfully, eyes not leaving the gun as he stood slowly.

Chuck peeked into several rooms, finding that they were all similar in layout with a bed, dresser, and table. "Looks like tavern rooms or something."

Galle lowered his helmet attachment, glancing around, up, and down. "No heat sigs aside from the ones we have downstairs. Shuriken, you see anything?"

"Sector is clear on my scope," the sniper replied.

"Alright, we're moving." He gestured to the rebel. "Help move your friends downstairs. No tricks, got it?"

The man nodded, beginning to pick the helmeted rebel up by the shoulders and drag him. Chuck reached down to the wounded man, who tried unsuccessfully to stand. Hauling him up and looping his free arm around him, Chuck began supporting him as they moved. Galle brought up the rear, carbine flashing around behind them on guard.

"All units," the comm blared suddenly, making Chuck startle. He continued down the stairs and led the rebel to Fin who was preparing medical supplies. "This is Commander Fox. Nearing the hostages on the fourth subterranean level but have injured, one expectant. Immediate reinforcements are needed. 65th gunships are still ten mikes out. How copy?" [5]

Rex's voice came over the comms, blaster fire making a crackly background noise. "We're engaged and unable to aid on the third floor. We've got wounded."

Galle held his wrist communicator down, speaking quickly. "This is Lieutenant Galle. We've cleared the bar and have detained the rebels. Wounded are present, including one heavy, but all are insurgents. We're sending troopers down to your position, just keep your beacons active."

"Solid copy, Galle," Fox replied. "Medevac will handle your wounded. Move with purpose."

Galle waved towards Hotshot. "You and Chuck are with me. Recoil and Fin stay here on babysitting detail."

"What?" Recoil blurted out incredulously. "You can't be serious. You'll need my firepower."

"Not in CQC; your weapon is too clunky. We're doing this light and fast." [6]

Hotshot chuckled. "And you are everything but that."

Recoil's shoulders sagged as he realised his point. When he spoke, it was a low, disappointed grumble. "Fine, I'll hold here. Don't hesitate to call if you need some terrorists shredded."

"Wilco," Galle said good-naturedly, hefting up his shield. Hotshot retrieved the second one, shifting his grip on it awkwardly. "Move out troopers."

Hotshot laughed. "Let's embarrass Wedge by being the ones to save him."

Entering into the apartment complex through the front doors, proof of the battle was evident immediately. Carbon scoring marked the walls of the front room, the few carpets or curtains having holes burnt through their fabric, benches and tables were smashed, and a few corpses lay on the floor, none were Republic troopers. A receptionist desk had the glass partition smashed in, and the body of a Gran in brown padded armour was draped across the counter, rifle still gripped in its cold hands. The three adjoining doors to the room were obliterated, scorch marks telling a tale of explosives, openings revealing a staircase leading upwards, a back room, and a common room. The common room was just as much of a war zone as the front, with destruction littered about. In the back room, stairs going down were visible. Blaster shots echoed throughout the building, along with several shouts and cries.

"Going down," Galle said in a singsong voice, speed walking into the back room. "Stay frosty, boys."

"Right behind you," Chuck responded as they began descending, avoiding the body of a human with a knife in his throat that was spread-eagled on the steps. They jogged down the flights, skipping floors on their way to the fourth. Wreckage was seen through the open doors to the halls that branched off, along with remains.

"Whatcha see?" Hotshot asked their squad lead, helmet turning about rapidly to watch all directions at once.

Galle lowered his macrobinoculars, humming to himself. "No heat sigs nearby. I see clusters of them farther away along with some skirmishing." They got out into the hall of the fourth level, blasters pointed as they skirted by the right wall in a line. Galle held his comm. "This is Lieutenant Galle to Fox. What's your situation?"

After a brief delay, it buzzed to live, filled with gunfire. "Still engaged. We're held up in a choke point outside the storage room with the hostages. We're effectively pinned under fire."

"Copy. We're approaching down a hall to your left. We'll come out flan-" Galle was cut off when a broom closet burst open, a large, green fist slamming into his helmet and sending him crashing into the opposite wall. A large, burly reptilian humanoid clad in brown leathers charged the other clones, taking advantage of their momentary shock to bowl them over violently. The Trandoshan hissed, baring its fangs before whipping out a blaster and pointing it at Hotshot. The monster's shot missed by a mere inch when Galle, who had recovered quickly but lost his weapon, tackled it from behind, clasping his arms around its thick neck. Chuck scrambled up as the Trandoshan gripped the lieutenant with one hand and flipped him overhead in a high arc, landing with a sickening clatter. Raising his carbine, Chuck fired twice, both shots missing as the creature dodged with remarkable agility. It crouched low then sprang into the clone with a body slam that knocked his breath out of his lungs. He landed with a painful thud, rolling several feet down the hall, losing his gun and discus on the floor.

"Lieutenant?! Lieutenant Galle, sit rep!"

Galle rose unsteadily, assuming a fighting stance as the creature whirled around and charged. As it passed Hotshot, he lifted the corner of his shield, catching the Trandoshan's foot. It tumbled to the floor yet rolled to its feet in a fluid motion, raising its blaster and shooting Galle. The yellow marked trooper barely twisted in time, red bolt catching his left shoulder and throwing him down.

Hotshot fired his carbine, striking it in the small of the back. Enraged, the Trandoshan whirled around with a ferocious snarl, barrelling at the clone. Hotshot raised the shield, blocking a few red bolts. The Trandoshan knee-slammed the shield, bashing it into Hotshot's face. He stumbled a bit before getting seized by the metal protective plate and hurled down the hall, soaring over Chuck then impacting a door with a loud bang and a pained "OW!"

The monster made an evil hissing noise that resembled laughter, glaring its red eyes at Chuck, who struggled to rise. It holstered its gun, cracking its knuckles. Chuck grimaced at the burning pain that seared his side, standing. Clenching his fists, he stared in fear at certain death and bloody murder incarnate in a muscular, scaly, ugly body. Eyes straying to the ground, he glanced at his discus and blaster which were both halfway between him and the Trandoshan.

"Prepare to die, clone filth," the monster rasped, opening its maw wide and licking its lips with a snaking forked tongue.

Chuck, using all the will power he could muster, forced a weak laugh, body protesting at such an action with a spike of pain from his ribs. "Filth? Have you looked in the mirror recently? You're not the prettiest sight on this planet, buddy."

The Trandoshan roared, charging forth with huge strides. Chuck retreated several paces, hands held ready as impending doom bore down on him. The monster was five feet away when Chuck pressed the button on the gauntlet. The discus came to life, buzzing with energy as it launched off the ground, gyrating towards Chuck as he backtracked another few steps.

Shlock!

The discus connected onto Chuck's gauntlet, powering off. With a short, dramatic pause, the Trandoshan collapsed, having been bisected at the waist by the high speed vibro-blade. Black blood puddled on the floor beneath it from the gaping wound as Chuck stumbled back into a wall, relief pouring over him. Taking a good look at his discus, he grimaced as blood slicked down the rim, dripping onto his boot. Coughing, he held down his comm. "Fox, this is Chuck. We were ambushed by a Trandoshan, but I managed to kill it."

"Your squad?"

Chuck glanced around as Galle and Hotshot picked themselves up, groaning. The lieutenant's macrobinoculars were cracked and hung loosely from his helmet. "Yeah, we're good. On our way, over."

"Nerd's contraption worked," Hotshot said numbly, staggering forward. "His disk of doom actually worked."

Chuck nodded, stepping over the corpse and retrieving his carbine. "We're gonna have to thank him profusely later."

Galle gathered his stuff, shaking the dizziness out of his head. "I think I want one." The clones huffed half-hearted laughs. Galle began jogging, staying very much aware of the doors this time, with the other two right behind him. The exertion wasn't much, but after their scuffle, it felt like a full sprint to Chuck, who panted quietly. After a minute of movement, with their feet pounding the concrete floor and all three troopers silent except for laboured, injured breaths, the sounds of combat ceased ahead of them. They rounded a corner and came to a halt in front of a clone in red marked armour, pointing a carbine at them.

"Whoa! We're friendly!" Galle called quickly, lowering his blaster. The shock trooper did likewise, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. Behind him, Fox and a 212th soldier stood amongst the bodies of insurrectionists, panning the area of the three-way intersection.

"Galle?" Fox called back, slinging his rifle.

"The one and only," he replied smoothly, walking towards the commander. "Looks like you had a party."

The 212th trooper, Wooley, snorted. "Not a party without cake. This was a bad point." He kicked over a crate stack that had been a rebel cover nest. "We lost Kret, and the other two are unconscious."

"We almost lost all of us back there," Hotshot said, rubbing his shoulder. "Nasty lizard-man came outta nowhere and threw us about like ragdolls."

Fox nodded, gesturing towards the fallen. "They've pulled the last of their forces to guard the captives. If we want to rescue them, we need to go in hard and fast."

"We can't leave the wounded though," Wooley added, kneeling beside a 65th trooper who was propped against the wall, head sagging.

"Where's the medevac and reinforcements?" Chuck asked.

"Not here yet," Fox responded. "We can't wait, though. We have to keep up the momentum and prevent them from doing anything foolish with the captives."

Galle clapped his carbine against his riot shield. "Let's get a move on then."

Fox turned to Wooley. "You and Flik guard the wounded and wait for medical."

Wooley nodded, making a thumbs up. "Righto. We'll keep your exit clear too. Have fun in there."

Without any more delay, Fox began leading forward, moving swiftly against the left wall. Galle followed suit, while Hotshot and Chuck mimicked from the other side, weapons at the ready.

'Well, ain't resting then,' Chuck thought tiredly, eyes darting around the hall. Turning a corner, they came face to face with a larger metal door in the centre of the hallway, the sides of it welded into the frame. The clones stared at it as it loomed menacingly, all frozen by its door... ness.

"Well... I'm guessing that's the door?" Hotshot asked dumbly.

"No way," Chuck mumbled. "Never would've guessed that."

Fox retrieved several charges from his hard cases, planting them against the door. He stepped back, looking towards Galle. "5597's tracker pings off here. What do you see?"

The lieutenant carefully gripped the macrobinoculars with both hands, bringing them down and activating them. A spark flew from a crack, and Galle smacked it. "I see a large number of heat sigs gathered in the centre of the room, all clumped together and lower to the ground. Maybe sitting? Others are standing around the room... looks like their braced against cover or something. I'm counting at least twenty potential hostiles."

"I don't mean to be a doubter, but I don't think we'll survive charging that room," Hotshot pointed out. "There are too many guns all pointing at this one spot. We'd need an army."

"How about a Jedi?" A voice asked. Chuck whirled around to see General Skywalker, Captain Rex, Raid, Chase, Awe, and several troopers of the 501st and 65th jogging in their direction.

"General, your timing is impeccable," Fox said genuinely. "The hostages are inside."

Anakin sized up the door, eyes picking out the explosives. "Alright. Men, get ready to breach." Troopers began positioning against the walls away from the charges, blasters ready. Several used the few closet doorways as cover, Chuck being one of them, Hotshot behind him. Raid moved over to them, kneeling in front of the door.

"How's your first mission been? You two behaving for Lieutenant Galle?" he asked casually, carbine trained on the storage room.

"Yessir," Chuck replied. "It's been... eventful."

Raid chuckled. "I'll say. You two look horrible." Chuck quickly glanced at himself and Hotshot, noticing their armour was scuffed and scratched, with Hotshot's helmet having a small dent in the forehead from impacting the door earlier. Hotshot also was missing a kneepad and his utility belt hung loose. Grime from the floors was decorating them, and Chuck realised his discus had dripped Trandoshan blood down his arm and onto his leg, boot, and side.

Hotshot snorted a laugh. "If you think we look bad, you should see the other guy."

Raid nodded, speaking with an undertone of disgust. "I saw your handy work in the halls. Made some of us sweat. Discus?"

"It's proven very useful," Chuck said, watching Anakin signal to Fox with his hand. The commander produced the detonator.

"Check your fire for civvies," Captain Rex ordered from beside Skywalker.

Raid looked up at Chuck. "Let's hope it keeps up its usefulness."

The charges exploded with a resounding boom. The metal door caved inwards, crashing to the floor. Smoke filled the entry way, drifting about. Red laser began streaking out at random, striking walls and the floor. A louder blaster sound was heard, and larger red bolts flew out, hitting walls with puffs of concrete powder and leaving little indentations in the walls.

"Can't see them!" A trooper yelled. None of the clones had fired, concerned for the hostages.

"I've got it!" Anakin cockily responded, waving a hand. The smoke instantly was pushed aside, allowing a view inside the storage room. A large wall of crates was set up, sheltering several terrorists and a turret with makeshift armour plating on the front. In the centre of the room were the hostages, all cuffed or tied up, gathered in a large group of mostly adults, though a few kids were present.

"Heavy contact!" Fox called, firing his rifle in and picking off an enemy.

Chuck tried shooting the turret's user but was denied by the shielding which was already taking many hits yet holding up just fine.

"It's got tough farmer-armour!" Awe hollered, firing several rounds into the turret's protective plates. [7]

A 501st trooper got shot in the head, collapsing on the floor. Anakin, blue saber in hand, stepped out into the open, drawing away fire as he deflected shot after shot.

"Explosives?" Galle asked, raising his shield and catching a shot.

"Negative," Fox responded gruffly, dodging into cover. "We can't afford blue on green."

Hotshot leaned out, shield upraised. "Chuck, I'mma do a pro gamer move. I want you to get behind me and use the discus." He stepped out, bracing himself against enemy fire. Chuck followed, staying low and in cover behind the shield. They slowly advanced towards the Jedi who continued to block in a flurry of lightsaber swings. A Coruscant Guard trooper fell to the ground, a laser having slipped through and hitting his chest. Awe retrieved the fallen man's shield, advancing with Hotshot. When they were just behind him, Hotshot crouched low, allowing Chuck a view over him. "General, duck!"

Anakin squatted down just as Chuck brought his arm back, throwing the discus with heavy force. It zoomed at the cannon, embedding itself in the barrel. In a burst of smoke, the gun collapsed, small explosion killing the gunner.

"There! Move it troopers!" Captain Rex yelled, charging with his dual blasters blazing. The troopers with shields made a charge to the barricade, gunning down the immediate defenders. Anakin vaulted over the crates, followed closely by Fox, Rex, Awe, and Raid. General Skywalker moved like a dervish, slicing blasters and throwing hostiles with a stretch of his hand. Awe barrelled at a Rodion, batting its rifle away with his shield before slamming into it. Rex and Fox moved in unison down the centre, dive-rolling to the middle and picking off enemies. Raid produced his dagger in one hand, stabbing a rebel's gun and whipping around him. The ARC Trooper grabbed the man in a chokehold, kicking his knees to make him kneel. Clones spilled into the room as the fighting petered out, the four surviving insurgents laying down their weaponry.

"On your knees, now!" Fox ordered as his men began detaining them. Meanwhile, Anakin went about slicing binders on the hostages, allowing them to stand free. A few relieved sobs came from several of them, and Chuck noted that they all wore nice clothes, if not dirtied from the excursion. Several men and women were obviously important, wearing suits or Senator robes. Amongst them were several familiar clones in their armour.

"Well, well, well," Hotshot said in a snarky voice, sauntering towards Wedge and the freshly liberated 501st troopers. "If it isn't the damsel in distress."

Wedge snorted, rubbing his hands where they had been cuffed. "If it isn't the biggest idiot in the galaxy."

Hotshot shook his head, speaking in a chiding voice. "But Wedge, I'm not the idiot who got himself caught by terrorists."

"I'm done with this karking piece of druk they call a city," Wedge spat angrily.

Chuck clucked his tongue. "Some damsel in distress. No thanks, just curses."

"Not a damsel... certainly doesn't have the figure," Awe said cheekily, strutting over with his helmet clipped to his belt. "I would say a dude in distress."

"How about a Mister in Misery?" Chuck added in a similarly jesting manner. Wedge glared him down, which only made him smile wider.

"Peep in Peril?" Hotshot suggested innocently. The clones around them began chuckling at the game, though Wedge was still unamused. "What's the matter? Can't take jokes?"

"You wouldn't be so cheery if you were the one dragged across the city, handcuffed, and stuff in a kriffing storage room," Wedge complained, retrieving his helmet from a crate.

"I'm glad it was you and not me, my dummy in danger!" Hotshot laughed, jabbing his friend in the ribs with his elbow. "Besides, saving your sorry hide was no picnic either. Just look how junked I am!"

"You always look like that."

The clones laughed, and Chase walked over. "He's got a point, Hotshot. At least you were allowed to shoot your contacts. Before getting moved here as reinforcements, I was trying to keep a protest in check. Do you know how hard that is? They kept screaming and throwing stuff and wouldn't listen. Got whacked with a sign or two. Awe almost began pumping them full of bolts when Tunnel got hit with a brick."

Chuck winced, feeling bad for the gentle clone. "How is he?"

Chase shrugged. "Medics said something about a concussion. They moved him out back to the Resolute already. I can agree with the dude in distress; I'm done on Coruscant."

Redeye, who was stretching out after being a captive, nodded. "Good news for you is we're shipping out to the front in a couple of days."

"Haven't even gotten you to 79s yet," Hardcase whined good-naturedly.

"That's fine by me," Wedge proclaimed. "Until we're off this rock, I'm not stepping foot outside the ship." The troopers fell silent as Fox began addressing everyone.

"Well done men. We've cleared the building and rescued the hostages. Riots and protest are all broken up or under control. Gunships are landing outside to transport you away. On the behalf of the Coruscant Guard, I thank you for doing your duty well today and protecting the citizens of the Republic."

Rex cleared his throat as Fox stepped back, looking over the gathered men. "The 65th have their men in control of this area. We're heading out." Several clones cheered; others just proceeded to the door.

Awe slapped Chuck's shoulder in comradery. "Time to go home and brag to the boys 'bout our little adventure!"

Commander Fox stood with his hand behind his back, watching as his troopers packed up into their speeders, leaving the apartment and bar buildings with police tape over the entrances. The cold night breeze ruffled his kama, making it flap. He dreaded the amount of paperwork and trials for the terrorists that would follow the events that took place earlier that day, being incredibly tired and wished to sleep, but he would never show it. He was the stern leader of the 65th Coruscant Guard, and thus he had to accomplish his duty, no matter the personal sacrifice.

"Commander." Fox turned and saw one of his troopers, Flik, jogging over. He stopped short, saluting.

"At ease. What do you need, Flik?"

Flik produced a data pad, handing it to him. "I think you need to see this." Fox watched as security footage from the Area 12 base played, showing the mustering of the several legions' troopers for the operation. Highlighted was a red-brown C-series astromech that rolled between gunships and around clones who moved with purpose.

"That's the droid from that heist," Fox said with contempt, glaring as it zoomed in. Yep, same droid. "From the unit that took our equipment?"

"Yessir. Bind and I searched, but we can't get a confirmation of which gunship it came on, nor the one it left on. The angles aren't great."

Fox thought for a bit, wrinkling his nose. "Only several formations were present: the 327th, 212th, 501st, and 187th. We can start investigating after this mess is all cleaned up. Good work Flik."

"Sir!" He saluted once more before turning and walking to a speeder.

Glaring at the many lights of the city, Fox briefly regretted the assignment. Instead of fighting for the glory of the Republic on the front, him and his boys were police. That was civvy work, not highly trained soldiers'. How did it make sense to have soldiers policing the capital, almost like an occupation or martial law? But those were traitor's thoughts. Fox had orders, as did his men, and good soldiers followed orders, even if they didn't make sense to the soldier. It wasn't his place to question them, only to do his duty.

Turning, he marched to his red speeder, climbing in. The pilot sped them off into the sparkling twilight of the Coruscant cityscape.

[1] In case you're wondering, 'dig the corner' just is hugging the wall.

[2] Biofoam, which is short for biomedical foam, is a self-sealing, space-filling coagulant and antibacterial, tissue-regenerative foam polymer used primarily for first aid on the field to stop the bleeding or stabilise a patient, particularly when there is a lack of more sophisticated medical treatment available. It is quite painful to apply to open wounds, searing like a burn, but quickly numbs the area. Biomedical foam breaks down after a few hours, making it a good temporary wound sealant until proper medical treatment can be acquired. (I pulled this item straight from the Halo universe and games as it is featured prominently in Halo 3: ODST amongst other games of that brand. I thought, hell, why not add this in? It's good to have more treatments than just bacta-patches, bacta-gels, bacta-tanks... and so forth)

[3] An Onderonian Cocktail is a bottle or similar breakable container filled with fuel or another flammable liquid in a napalm-like mixture combined with a source of ignition such as a burning cloth wick, held in place by the bottle's stopper. The wick is usually soaked in alcohol or a similar solvent to allow the flame to spread quickly and detonate the contents. (Kinda obvious what this is.)

[4] IED: Improvised Explosive Device.

[5] An expectant is a wounded person who is likely to succumb to their wounds. i.e., Someone who probably will die.

[6] CQC: Close Quarters Combat

[7] Farmer-armour is a military term for makeshift protective plating or armour, especially scrapped together from, well, scrap.