Author's Note: I know I've been gone a long time and I appreciate every one of you who have stuck around for my flagship series. I'm back to working on it now so hopefully you will enjoy what's to come. That said, life is always rough so if I disappear again, just know I'll come back eventually.
Enjoy
-Chapter 34: Breakout-
Location: Ord Cestus, 9:9:3632 ATC
"Adapting to change is the difference between coping and winning."
Ord Cestus had been an industrial powerhouse before the Clone Wars, and retained its title after a skirmish on the planet overseen by Jedi Masters Obi-Wan Kenobi and Kit Fisto. Ord Cestus was a relatively barren rock rich in certain ores, but miserable for most agricultural farming. Much of its surface was desert. The native life-forms included a hive-based insectile people known as the X'Ting, and a variety of large, deadly cave spiders. The planet's terrain was mainly arid, red desert with many mountain ranges and volcanic craters covering the span of the planet.
Over 800 types of medical or edible mushrooms grew on the world.
The current population stood in the millions, with several advanced cities unsustainable without imported resources: fertilizers and soil nutrients, medications, and spices used to modify the water supply for non-natives.
Three hundred standard years before, the relatively primitive X'Ting (a single colony with multiple hives spread around the planet) had contracted with Coruscant, offering land for a galactic prison facility.
At some point Cestus Penitentiary began a program designed to train and utilize prisoner skills. This became really interesting when a series of financial scandals and an industrial tragedy on Etti IV sent a dozen minor officers of Cybot Galactica, the Republic's second largest manufacturer, to prison for twenty standard years. The twelve hadn't been on Cestus for two years before cutting a deal with prison officials to begin research and fabrication of a line of droid products. Access to vast amounts of raw material and virtually free labor released a flood of wealth.
The twelve were quickly and quietly work-furloughed into opulent homes. Select guards and officials became wealthier still, and a corrupt dynastic conglomerate was born: Cestus Cybernetics, producing an excellent line of personal security droids. The next events were difficult to sort out. Large tracts of land were purchased from the hive at fire-sale prices. Then, following terrible plagues among the X'Ting, Cestus Cybernetics gained almost complete control of the planet.
Still, life, even for the average offworlder, had been rough before Cestus Cybernetics subcontracted to the fabulously wealthy and successful Baktoid Armor Workshops. It retooled completely, tapping into an interstellar market in high-end military hardware. The economy expanded, and then crashed when the Trade Federation cut ties after the Naboo fiasco.
Boom. Then, crash. Cycles of growth and decay followed one another with numbing regularity.
As the Republic began rationing supply lines with the onset of war, Ord Cestus flocked to the Separatist Alliance and the promises of food in exchange for war droids. They developed advance machinery capable of outrageous feats of strength. One of their biggest prototypes was the Jedi Killer droid which, as the name implied, had the potential to be the bane of the Jedi's existence. Obi-Wan and Kit Fisto were sent to intervene, liberating the planet from its Separatist-loyal government and replacing it with a classical monarchy that had ruled long before the War broke out.
As thanks Ord Cestus wrote up contracts with the Republic to produce service droids and allowed Coruscant to construct a military base and medical facility on the planet's surface, as well as an orbital medical station for more immediate crises, in addition to more regular food supply lines.
Kit Fisto knew this all very well. Standing just outside the planetside base, his dark gaze took in the barren landscapes he and Obi-Wan grew so familiar with during their time on the planet. Memories of uniting the Desert Winds resistance group, cave skirmishes with Asajj Ventress, it all permeated his senses.
"Trouble, sir?" Clone Commander Monnk inquired.
"Not yet." Fisto responded. "Just enjoying the tranquility of the moment." Monnk was more hung up on his initial response.
"You think something might happen?" He wondered.
"It's always possible. The people of Cestus are in good condition now. But a simple rationing drove them into Count Dooku's arms. That could never have happened to a self-sufficient people." Fisto replied. This was simple truth. In war, secure supply lines were as crucial as trained soldiers. "There may be some Separatist sympathizers out there."
"And we have one of their big guns locked up tight." Monnk concluded. "If there were to ever be a ground zero, this would be it."
"My thoughts exactly." Fisto agreed. "But for the moment there is no trouble. So I will enjoy the moment as it is. You should too, Commander." Monnk shrugged. Kit's easy-going ways might've taken some getting used to, but the fact his General could be so approachable and amicable really helped ease the tension of the war.
"Very well, sir." Monnk agreed. They stood together in silence for a moment. "Should I double patrols?"
"No need." Kit chuckled in reply.
High above the planet, Anakin Skywalker took his time studying up the medical station's routines and schedules. While he was only briefly familiarized with the daily goings-on at the Kaliida Shoals medical station, he had been staying on Ord Cestus for a bit longer and wanted to properly integrate himself. His was a twofold purpose: Ahsoka was on the verge of clearing medical inspection and he was designated for transporting Wraith back to Coruscant, a process which should not take long given the medicinal instruments available on the planet below.
Until then, he was going to make sure Wraith never broke containment again.
On the one hand I get why Ahsoka did it. On the other hand, that was a very reckless thing to do. Had he been in better health everyone on the frigate might not just be infected but dead, her included.
Striding through the station's orbital relay hub, which sanctioned arriving ships, disembarking ships, and monitored incoming and outgoing transmissions, he was greeted by Captain Rex. "Sir, the base planetside has checked in, confirming everything normal. I've tabulated the reports from the past forty-eight hours. Just as you wanted." The captain informed him.
"Sounds good, Rex. Keep me posted for when they check-in next." Anakin responded, folding his hands behind his back.
"Roger that." The captain affirmed with typical soldierly crispness. But even as he returned to his duties, Anakin could sense a lingering disgruntlement within him. The trooper kept it private and made no effort to bring it up.
I applaud his dedication, but if something's wrong I need to know.
"Something bugging you, Rex?" Anakin asked, causing the Clone to pause in his tracks.
"Er, nothing major, General." Rex confessed. He'd forgotten just how all-knowing Jedi could be. The Force was doing things that made him genuinely question reality as he knew it sometimes. "I'm just wondering if this is all that necessary. He's wounded after all. Not going anywhere on his own." He finally said aloud.
"I'm not taking any chances, Rex. We're this close to putting away another major Separatist player. Remember what happened to Nute Gunray?" Anakin responded. That event was enough of a mind-jog to convince Rex otherwise. As much as the added paperwork was tiresome, it was necessary.
"I understand, sir." He replied, carrying on with his work.
Anakin nodded and continued his rounds. Stepping out of the hub and entering the command centre, observing the readouts flashing on the holotable. Motion out of the corner of his gaze caught his eye. He turned to see a trooper fiddling frantically with his scanning equipment, attempting to adjust the feed on his screen. Anakin strode over, pausing behind the Clone. "Something wrong, trooper?" He inquired. The helmeted trooped turned around.
"Sir, I think I just picked up a ship dropping out of hyperspace… but it disappeared almost as soon as I scanned the reading." He explained. Anakin's gaze narrowed. Without substantial evidence to act upon there wasn't much he could do. And there were a multitude of other possibilities that limited his ability to act. There just wasn't enough to go on.
"Might be a glitch in the system. But keep an eye out for evidence to the contrary." He stated simply.
"Will do, sir." The Clone affirmed, returning to his work…
Later…
Passing through the clouds over Cestus, an HWK-290 light freighter descended rapidly towards the surface. Levelling out over uninhabited mountains desert plains, it maintained speed as it approached a ridge line, nose rising slightly as it adjusted elevation.
Triggering the door release, a pitch black figure emerged from within and glanced back and forth in examination of his airspace. He waited for just the right moment before leaping into the air. The figure dropped like a rock as the vessel took off into the sky, leaving him alone on Cestus. Calculations ran through his mind as he rapidly descended, angles and numbers filling his mind.
He hit the ground hard, kicking up clouds of dirt as he rolled over and back to his feet, sliding to a halt. Straightening, the visor of his helmet began to glow red, powering up as his HUD scanned across the landscape. The armored figure turned back to the ridgeline and started moving, jogging up to the edge while reaching for his belt. With the flick of a switch his personal cloaking device activated and he disappeared from view with a shimmer of light.
For just on the other side of the ridge lay the Republic's army base…
Two of Kit Fisto's 21st Special Forces Regiment were busy patrolling the cargo loading bay, identifiable by their yellow-striped armor, when the alert came through. "Perimeter sensors were tripped in the northwest quadrant. Jester, Mak, go check it out."
"Roger that, Commander." Mak affirmed.
"Do we really have to walk all the way out there? We can see for miles." Jester complained.
"Well… maybe we'll just walk to the edge of the base." Mak suggested, which pleased Jester greatly. The two Clones strode forth, surveying the scenery from behind their helmets. The typical landscape of Cestus did not shift as they drew closer to the edge of the base's foundation.
"Quiet." Jester noted, verbally affirming his stance on the issue. "Very quiet."
"Yeah, alright. You've made your point." Mak muttered. "Not so much as a dust cloud out there."
"Probably a bug of some kind tripped the sensor." Jester theorized. "Go ahead and let command know there's nothing to report." Mak nodded and reached for his comms…
Only for a long silver shaft to suddenly pierce his throat from seemingly out of nowhere.
Jester recoiled as blood spurted from his brother's neck, Mak gurgling and gasping as he clutched at the wound. "Mak!" Jester cried, grabbing his fellow trooper instinctively in an effort to help him.
That only left him exposed as a second silver shaft pierced through his neck as well, the sharp and jagged arrowhead destroying his spinal column in the process.
Jester hit the ground and Mak soon after. They died of their wounds, Jester before Mak, neither of them knowing who their killer was. The air of Ord Cestus remained perfectly silent without a trace of an enemy to be found…
Within the command nodule of the base, Kit Fisto arrived with Commander Monnk in tow to discover the Clones busy about their stations, some of them more preoccupied with tasks than others. "Sir," the local sergeant began, saluting the Nautolan Jedi, "perimeter motion sensors were tripped within the recent cycle and we're waiting for a report from two troopers sent to scout the area."
"Could be nothing, sergeant." Monnk was quick to say. "Never know when a stray rock or insect or piece of debris might cause the problem."
"I know, sir. Just letting you know we're following procedure." The sergeant responded.
"Let's not be so hasty to dismiss this, Commander." Kit interjected. "While we know these sensors have something of a faulty history, we should at least consider the potential validity behind their readings." The sergeant nodded and keyed up his comms.
"Command to Jester, do you copy?" He asked. Silence responded, his comms quiet without so much as a crackle of static. "Jester, do you read? What is the status of the perimeter check?" The sergeant glanced to Monnk and Kit, noting the Jedi's focused expression. He tried again. "Command to Mak, what is your status?" Again, nothing. Neither trooper responded.
"Send out a squad to investigate." Kit promptly ordered. "I have a bad feeling about this…"
Later…
Within the hospital wing of the base, Clone trooper Nomad was on patrol. It was a mundane assignment but it did him good to see his brothers recuperating from wounds. They were survivors. Every one of them. It gave a sense of achievement over droids in a way. When clankers were scrapped the Separatists just made new ones. When a trooper went down he could be picked up, tended to, and combine his strength and courage to push through the pain and heal in order to get back on the battlefield.
It was a matter of soul. Droids had no soul. Clones were full of it, for good or for ill.
Nomad enjoyed this particular duty. It allowed him to check in on his brothers. To joke with them and rouse their spirits while they were bedridden. He'd been through his own stays in these halls (or at least halls like them) and knew that the jovial company of his brothers was a medication unto itself.
That said he still had a duty to adhere to.
Strolling through the hospital wing with his DeeCee held loosely in two hands, Nomad moved to check on the less-exciting areas. There were a row of storage holds located in a hall corner that housed all kinds of medical equipment and supplies needed for the goings-on in the wing. Passing by the first, he noted no difference. Passing by the second, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Passing by the third, Nomad found it open with the lights off.
Intrigued by the irregular discovery, the trooper triggered the control panel on the outside. But the door failed to shut. He pressed again. Nothing. With a grunt of concern, Nomad stepped inside to check out the rest of the wiring. Glancing up, only the red emergency lights were running across the roof and the motion sensors didn't even act to his arrival. "Central circuits must be shot." He muttered to himself.
All of a sudden, the darkness came alive with arms and a body, smacking Nomad's DeeCee out of his hands before an iron grip encircled his throat and slammed up against the nearest wall of the storage room. The Clone struggled for a look at his assailant, seeing only blackness and a glowing red visor.
"The detention block. Where is it?" A heavily synthesized voice demanded. Nomad flailed against the hand on his neck, reaching for the pistol strapped to his hip. He managed to pull it free and take aim only for a second hand to reach out and crush the weapon and his hand in the process. A sharp twist snapped his wrist and a gurgle of pain was stuck in Nomad's throat. "Talk. Or I'll blow up this entire wing." The assailant growled.
"You… wouldn't-!" Nomad gasped. The invisible foe said nothing, letting his threat linger in the air. Nomad knew he needed to do something and his best chance to get out of here was cooperation. "Alright! It's in the sublevels! But that's all you're getting out of me!" He rasped.
"Good enough." The voice said. His grip flexed with crushing strength, Nomad gasping and gurgling until a crunch of bone revealed his neck had been snapped.
Nomad's body slumped in the grip of his assailant before it was tossed behind some of the storage crates and arranged to be completely out of sight. Soon it were as if no one had been in the room at all…
Outside…
Kit was on the ground with Monnk as the response squad carted off the covered bodies of Jester and Mak on stretchers. "Killed by arrows of all things." Monnk muttered, holding one of the silver shafts in his hand.
"Someone did not want to be noticed." Kit noted. "This is a stealth operation. And an elite one at that."
"So if they're being quiet and are here using special tactics… then we've got something they want." Monnk determined.
"More like someone they want." Kit clarified. "Put the base on lockdown, Commander, and order the men into patrol groups. We are going to comb every inch of this facility until the infiltrator is found!" He ordered.
"Sir yes sir!" Monnk heartily affirmed.
Adhering to the Jedi's word, patrols were quickly put together and routes were established across the core base hub as well as the hospital wing, with the intent to cover as much ground as possible. Elsewhere in the base, further down in the sublevels, enhanced security processes were enforced and the troopers on guard in the detention block were notified of the stricter measures.
Two in particular were responsible for patrolling the stretch of corridor between the primary security checkpoint and the cellblock. Troopers Praufet and Astek received the updated regimen from their superior and moved accordingly. "What kinda Sep would be stupid enough to attack us out here?" Astek wondered aloud. "You've seen how far in every direction you can see on the surface. They'd be spotted miles away."
"Evidently someone good enough to get around security layers." Praufet replied.
"Think maybe it was some sorta air drop?" Astek queried. His partner shrugged.
"Dunno. We'll ask once shift's over." He stated. The two continued walking, moving to affirm their designated checkpoints throughout the detention block in order to signal an 'all clear' on their patrol. Keying in the access code for one of the dividing doors, the two Clones were surprised to see one of the ceiling grates laying on the floor of the next hallway. "What do we have here?" Praufet mused aloud. They moved quickly to investigate. So far nothing seemed out of the ordinary but the exposed opening into the air ducts above was more than cause for concern.
"Either it's been purposefully removed or ceiling grates are just gonna start falling at random." Astek joked, trying to lighten the mood. Either Praufet chose to remain silent or he didn't appreciate the attempt.
"Call it in." He stated, clinically so. Rolling his eyes beneath his helmet, Astek opened a transmission channel and spoke crisply and precisely,
"Sub-Command, this is patrol three. We've located a displaced ceiling grate in corridor Dorn. Possible intru-" A silver shaft suddenly exploded through his neck from behind, piercing his throat and sending arterial spray across the metal floor. Praufet recoiled in shock before steeling his nerves and whirling around, blaster raised. A hulking black shape rushed him, sporting a single crimson visor that flashed brightly and a compound bow in his left hand. Praufet opened fire, multiple rounds striking the armor in a shower of sparks that did absolutely nothing to slow the monster down. Drawing a machete strapped to his hip, the great black thing slammed into Praufet and drove his bladed weapon up into his chin and through his head. The Clone twitched in spastic death throes for a moment before going limp, blood soaking the length of the blade.
The dark menace wrenched his weapon free and cleansed the blood from the blade by dragging it along the exposed bodysuit of the dead Clone trooper. Sheathing his weapon, his gaze turned to the compound bow in his hand. With a clench of his fingers, the weapon began to retract and compact in upon itself, assuming a rectangular shape that was promptly fitted to the underside of his gauntlet. With that out of the way, the figure advanced towards a row of detention cells…
All was quiet. Maybe that was for the best. As much as he wanted to say he liked the quiet, he did not like how it allowed his thoughts to run darkly rampant.
In the dim light of his cell, his wrists and ankles strapped to a pipe-frame cot, a weakened Wraith lay forlorn in the shadows. The shoulder in which he had been stabbed had grown numb, all feeling lost in a concentrated point where the lightsaber had pierced cleanly through. The pain that had sapped him of all strength had mercifully dulled over time, a testament to his body's ability to heal. But some of his more injurious wounds had not yet healed, resulting in further weaknesses and an inability to fully heal. The persistence of his pain keep Wraith down, to a point where being trapped in this position was almost preferable to movement.
As it stood, his hopes for escape were dwindling rapidly.
Wraith tried to keep his mental acuity sharp, relying on dark humour to sustain his thoughts.
I suppose I've learned what happens when a building falls on me. Better not let that happen again in the future… the last thing I need is to fail another species in such a manner.
The skin beneath his helmet was starting to itch. He blamed the fact the individual plates were fused together. Some, he suspected, had even been fused to his flesh, making removal impossible without proper medical support.
Not that the Republic wants me healthy. If I ever get out of this, I can be a living case for how they treat their 'dangerous enemies'… if the CIS still deems me worthy of rescuing.
Such were the course of his thoughts, cycling through one low after another. So was the monotony of his existence… until the door of his cell finally slid open. Slowly turning his head to regard the new light, Wraith expected to see a Clone or Jedi standing in the entry.
Instead, to his surprise, there stood a figure all in black, as tall as they were broad, gazing upon him through a single crimson visor that glowed.
"Agent Wraith?" He asked in a synthesized voice. The imprisoned super-soldier lifted his head as best he could.
"Who are you?" He croaked in a low voice.
"I'm Agent Reaper. I'm here to get you out of here." The figure responded, stepping down into the cell. He reached Wraith in a single stride, stooping down to shattered his cuffs with his hands alone. Once freed, he eased the super-soldier into a seated position and withdrew a pneumatic injector from his belt. "This will ease the pain." He stated. A fresh dose of painkiller flooded his veins, promising to numb his wounds soon enough.
"I'm… thirsty." Wraith rasped. Reaper answered by withdrawing a small canteen from his belt.
"Slow sips. Have they been giving you sustenance?" Wrath's reply was simple. Gut-wrenching even.
"No."
He drank slowly, cracked lips at long last wet as cool liquid slipped down his parched throat. Reaper tucked the canteen back into his belt and promptly hoisted the super-soldier over his shoulders in a fireman carry. "Save whatever strength you have. I'll take it from here, brother."
"Brother?" Wraith repeated. He caught a quick glance at a weapon strapped across his black-armored back. Reaper started moving, departing the cell. "What are you?"
"I'm a super-soldier. Like you."
"I… I thought I was the only one."
"You were. But now I'm here." Reaper said. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna replace you. I'm a fellow Separatist. A confederate patriot."
"A brother," Wraith surmised.
"Yes. A brother." Reaper affirmed. Wraith had not known an organic Separatist soldier before
Showing no signs of strain from hauling a fellow super-soldier, Reaper strode quickly and assuredly through the detention block halls. He passed the bodies of the Clones he'd so recently killed and knew there would be an investigation soon. With his new burden, his best course was the shortest… and least stealthy. His optical HUD quickly identified the path forward and kept him aware of thermal signatures in the distance. Taking a firm grip of Wraith's leg with his right hand, he reached for the pistol holstered on his hip with his left.
The doors of the cellblock slid apart for him, revealing the secure access corridor on the other side. Just a few meters between him and the exit. Surely it was nothing to a super-soldier… even if there were Clones forming an assault squad long before the turbolift access. Reaper 'saw' them long before they appeared in the hall, his optical scanners detecting their infrared signatures through durasteel walls. He was ready for them with his pistol raised long before they came running around the distant corner.
The RG-4D was a long-barreled blaster, renown for being an extremely accurate single-shot weapon. What it lacked in firing rate it more than made up for in power, becoming the favourite of droid commanders and other high-ranking officers within the Separatist Alliance.
Pulling the trigger, Reaper gunned down three Clones in quick succession before their followers had the good sense to use cover and fire from less-exposed positions. Blue blaster bolts struck his personal deflector shield, absorbed harmlessly by the energy bubble hastily raised around the two super-soldiers. Reaper's aim was incredibly deadly, requiring just the barest hint of helmet for him to score a hit. His unstoppable, machine-like advance forced the hand of the troopers, the final five springing from their hiding place and raining down fire as a collective force.
Knowing he had a valuable person to protect, Reaper acted quickly and decisively.
One shot one kill was the motto he acted on, making short work of the Republic troopers. Evidently he had a plasma-additive cell slotted in his weapon, given the way Clones were sent cartwheeling through the air with each direct hit. When the last lay dead, Reaper holstered his weapon. "A small patrol." He noted aloud. "Likely coming at the behest of their dead fellows back there."
"There'll be more." Wraith coughed. "There always is."
"I'm counting on it." Reaper responded. "You alright back there, brother?"
"Unscathed." Wraith grunted.
"Let's keep you that way." Said Reaper as he withdrew a data slice from his belt and used it to override the security lockdown on the access door before them. The twin doors slid open, revealing a surprised section commander as well as another pair of Clone troopers. Reaper responded just as fast as they turned to face him. Before they had raised their weapons, he had drawn and fired his. Multiple shots rang out and the troopers fell dead from the smoking pistol in Reaper's right hand.
The SE-14 combat pistol's high rate of fire made it a downsized blaster carbine when fully charged, making it on par with even the standard-issue weaponry of both Clone troopers and B1 battle droids. A single trigger pull had pumped each trooper full of three shots apiece, ensuring they were dead before they hit the floor.
Holstering his weapon, Reaper stepped over their corpses and carried Wraith towards the turbolift at the end of the short hallway…
Kit Fisto and Monnk had finished securing their core section of the base when the Clone Commander received a report from one of his men. "Reports of shots fired in the detention block, sir! Trying to gather a situation report but the patrol group isn't responding."
"Roger that, Syke." Monnk looked to his General. Kit already had a good idea what to expect given the shift in Monnk's Force aura. "Shots fired in the detention block. Patrol's gone missing." He reported, crisply and succinctly.
"Then our intruder has already breached deep behind our defences. However, they have given us a predictable course of action." The Nautolan concluded.
"Orders, sir?" Monnk queried, all too ready to act.
"Send a communication to General Skywalker in orbit. Tell him to bring his men planetside to reinforce us immediately. I want you to stay out here and organize an assault squad, I will take another to confront our intruder head-on." Kit quickly relayed.
"Right away, sir!" Monnk affirmed. The two promptly took off in separate directions without another word...
Emerging from the turbolift and into the central corridor of the base, Reaper plotted a precise course outside, the quickest way possible. Resistance was to be expected. He was, after all, technically moving deeper into the base instead of towards the nearest exit. "Where are we?" Wraith asked, still draped over his shoulders.
"Heading to the wall closest to the perimeter," Reaper answered, "we'll improvise an exit. I have a ship waiting to take us off world. Hanging in there, brother?"
"Yes." Wraith said simply.
"Good. Gonna have to set you down. I'm reading infrared signatures heading our way." Said Reaper, pausing to ease Wraith off his shoulders and down into a seated position.
"Give me a weapon." Wraith insisted. Reaper obliged him by passing off his RG-4D pistol.
"Here," also removing his shield generator from his belt, he clipped it to the waistband of Wraith's bodysuit, "don't need you getting shot." He triggered the field just as a clamour from down the hall announced the arrival of a Clone trooper detachment. The squad of ten wasted no time opening fire on the two Separatists, a salvo of blasterfire striking Reaper as he moved to advance on them.
His armor shimmered. The plating across his upper torso thickened, taking on a fresh metallic shine as some unseen atomic process unfolded. Now the blaster bolts were striking off him and leaving not so much as a scorch mark in their wake. Reaching behind, he retrieved one of two boxy weapons folded across his back. The one Reaper now carried was an ACP array gun.
The pump-action weapon functioned much like an archaic scatterblaster would, utilizing individual shells to house ammunition instead of relying on an energy cell. While it may have seemed outdated (with a limited number of shots and the user forced to manually reload each shell), it's stopping power and kill ratio were impressive. Accelerated charged particle rounds could pierce clean through armor like it never existed, making them a formidable choice against any opponent.
Pulling the trigger, the first blast struck the nearest Clone and dropped him hard, his armor riddled with puncture wounds that chewed plastoid to bits. Cocking the weapon, spent casing ejecting out the right side, Reaper fired again and blew another trooper off their feet. Seeing they weren't making a difference, the Clones began falling back in retreat as more of their number were cut down. Blasting one trooper in the back, he fell to the ground, seemingly immobilized. But his upper half remained functional, attempting to crawl away from the black menace slaughtering them. Reaper soon caught the Clone and stomped his boot down, crushing what was left of his spine before silencing his howl of agony with a blast to the back of the helmet.
Another trooper threw out a thermal detonator, only to have it knocked back into their midst as Reaper executed a hook kick. He took advantage of the ensuing chaos, mowing down the Clones one by one with a little help from his brother-in-arms. Wraith fired singular shots as best he could, when he could. His muscles were tired and the shards of metal still buried in his flesh were not helping. Able to raise his arm the strain ensured he could only do so for a couple minutes at a time. Not that he needed to help out. Reaper seemed to have things covered.
From his vantage point behind Wraith could observe every second of the combat, a chance to analyze his savior and apparent brother-in-arms. It was cold. Efficient, even. But every move came with its own measure of brutality. A little added force as he drove the stock of his weapon into a trooper's jaw. Some additional malice as his knuckle blade plunged into a Clone's neck. Something about his every motion revealed that Reaper seemingly had it out for Clones.
This was confirmed as he made his way back to Wraith and took his time to purposefully finish off any wounded he had left behind.
The black-clad super-soldier was busy slotting fresh shells into his array gun when another horde of Clones stormed in from the other side of the hall. Seeing them coming, Wraith exchanged hands and fired the pistol again, striking two of them before his arm grew too sore and he was forced to back off. Rounds sparked off his shield as his fellow super-soldier rushed to his aid. Reaper quickly tucked his weapon across his back in exchange for the other holstered there; an ACP repeater gun. It shared a similar ammunition type to the array gun (being another product of Arakyd Industries) but possessed a much higher power setting for improved ammunition penetration. Instead of a spread of accelerated charged particles, it fired single rounds at full auto for more precise stopping power.
As more rounds splashed against his armor and dissipated into sparks, Reaper opened fire on the Clone masses. Troopers were gunned down with precise numbers, their ranks thinned within a span of thirty seconds. With sudden speed, Reaper closed the gap between them and unleashed his machete, beheading a trooper before swinging around and burying his blade deep in the cranium of another, his body kicked away as Reaper charged into the Republic ranks in a frenzied assault of bloody machete and crackling ACP rounds.
As the butchery continued, Kit Fisto arrived on the scene with a fresh detachment of Clone troopers as they zeroed in on the reported position of their intruder. What he saw gaze him pause, the blood-soaked armor of a second super-soldier surprising the Nautolan Jedi.
"Another one…?" He said to himself. The surprise quickly wore off. The caliber of foe did not matter. Kit raised his lightsaber, triggering its emerald blade. Its verdant length rose from the hilt, scorching the air as it blossomed. His every nerve tingled. "Cover me!" Kit called, and dashed out. His men opened fire on the black monstrosity as Kit moved to consume his attention. He felt the tingle before the next ACP round struck, and skittered aside. He weaved wildly, fiercely, Form I-style improvisation applied to pure evasion. He dodged and dashed, covering ground toward the crouching family with blistering speed.
Sizzling bolts missed him by bare centimeters. Where they struck, durasteel and plastoid shattered and smoked. He felt a brief, intense burning jolt as a bolt grazed his hip, splashing against the ground. The Nautolan had begun to dodge even before the round arced in his direction. Kit thanked his Jedi skills, and knew that his only hope was to stay out of range.
Now he was close to the super-soldier, and his lightsaber seared the air, slicing through armor plating with a flash. Reaper staggered but did not topple, a glowing scorch mark left across his armor. With effortless ease he gunned down several of Kit's reinforcements before turning to face the Jedi.
The Nautolan was still battle-ready, noting the entrenched groove his lightsaber had left behind as well as how his enemy had not been phased by the attack. His cranial tendrils were restless even as his unblinking eyes focused on the super-soldier. "You're a bold one, coming here all alone." The Jedi noted aloud. Reaper said nothing, machete gripped by a steely hand. "Quiet, too." Kit remarked.
The Nautolan's head sensors wavered in the still air. Reaper regarded him without reaction. He eased his ACP repeater back behind him and kept his machete limber within his gloved hand. Kit stood a dozen meters away from the super-soldier.
Reaper remained motionless except for his armor, which once again segmented into a flatter configuration that covered the entirety of his body. No longer was the black body glove underneath visible. His posture loosened, limbs tense with the necessity for sudden movement. He swung first, a simple, searching strike. Kit's lightsaber swatted him from the air with contemptuous ease. The Clones held their fire, not wishing to harm their General, and found their attention straying from the Separatist, focusing instead on Kit, admiring the strength of his stance, the clarity of his angles as he chose lines of engagement.
Warning sirens howled in the Nautolan's mind as he continuing to bat away the super-soldier's probing assault. Something was terribly wrong. Intellect raced to keep pace with intuition. Reaper's repetition of previous patterns had lulled him into complacency. His pattern of machete strikes were only a feint. Where, then, was the real attack?
Kit went on the offensive, hacking into Reaper's machete in the hope he might offset any attempt at further combat. The super-soldier sank to his knees, as if adjusting his posture might cushion the repeated blows. The Force was propelling Kit. He wasn't taking any chances.
Reaper suddenly struck in the midst of his flurry.
A new blade popped out alongside his free hand with the hiss of pneumatics before it was plunged into the Jedi's left leg with a speed that outpaced his ability to react. Kit grunted in pain, his leg suddenly pulled out from underneath him as Reaper grabbed his boot with the same hand. He swung with his machete and would have cleaved across the Nautolan's midsection had Kit not raised his blade and blocked. Reaper turned and flung the Jedi across the hall, Kit rolling to his feet and grimacing as blood dripped from the open wound. Reaper's blade slid back into his gauntlet as he stood his ground, limber and ready to keep fighting.
This thing attacks on two levels simultaneously, he planned that well. Even more disturbing, he deliberately misled me into thinking his one weapon was not enough.
"Trooper," Kit stated, "I want heavy weapons on our position immediately."
"Right away, sir." One of the Clones responded. The Force flared. Kit flicked his blade to deflect a blaster round shot from one of Reaper's pistols. He had been aiming for the Clone. "The rest of you, thermal detonators at the ready. On my signal." Summoning the Force to dull his pain, Kit gripped his lightsaber with two hands and charged the super-soldier again. Reaper was ready and waiting.
He let the Nautolan lead with multiple sizzling strikes and thrusts, making minute calculations as he studied the Jedi's pattern of attack. HUD trackers measured the strength and speed of each blow, noting the likelihood of an attack long before Kit launched it. Reaper was thinking ahead. Part of his mind dedicated to planning his next move, another part responding to each of the Jedi's flurry of lightsaber swings with computer-like efficiency.
He was playing the Jedi by performing at multiple levels of tempo and efficiency, literally juggling his tactics, luring him to overconfidence.
Parrying the Jedi's next swing with a low, arcing swipe, Reaper rammed the hilt of his blade into Kit's nose while he cocked back his free hand to deliver a punch. His hand was within centimetres of the Nautolan target before Kit sensed the danger he was in. His lidless black eyes grew wider still as Reaper's gauntlet snapped open to reveal microcoils charged with electricity. Part punch and part electrostatic blast slammed into the Jedi, past his defences and causing his robes to sizzle with the impact. Ambient crackling shocks rolled through his nervous system, causing his extremities to tremble and buckle.
But Kit was far from vanquished. As if he, too, had merely been playing a game, he crouched and leapt forward, spinning on his body's vertical axis like some kind of carnival acrobat, surging directly at the super-soldier. He ducked under Reaper's swinging motion instead of deflecting it, slipping between his swinging arms, the Nautolan's sense of timing faster and more precise than conscious thought.
The super-soldier had not anticipated such an assault, nor could he adjust in time. Forgoing all sense of continued assault, Reaper converted his swing into forward momentum and lunged ahead, over the Jedi. From below Kit's lightsaber rained sparks. Armor glowed with fresh scorch marks, no single lightsaber swing slicing clean through, the material dense enough to ward off any serious injury.
The Nautolan hit the ground, rolled, and bore in again instantly, his face tightened into a fighting snarl as Reaper commando rolled to his feet and spun around to face him. "Now!" He called out. The Clones lobbed their thermal detonators as one, six of them clattering across the ground and rolling towards Reaper. Detecting their presences, the super-soldier backflipped over the explosives to put them between himself and the Jedi. He landed on his feet just as Kit reached out with a hand to use the Force to blow the thermal detonators back towards Reaper.
With surprising agility, the super-soldier bent over backwards, causing all but two of the explosives to sail over him. The others struck his armor and bounced, promptly pitched back towards the Clones as Reaper converted his maneuver into a bicycle kick. The dexterity and grace on display was on par with a nimble grav-ball athlete, despite the layers of armor. Troopers scattered as explosions filled the hall and Reapaer took advantage of their stunned state to draw his repeater pistol and gun down several in quick succession.
That didn't work.
Kit Fisto raced ahead to close the gap, forcing Reaper to break off his assault green clashed with his machete again. His pistol slid back into his holster as he flicked the Jedi's blade to the right, tossing his machete from hand to hand. Kit Fisto swung back, as anticipated, and Reaper blocked, driving his weapon to the left and holding it there. From his knuckle plate, a blade slid out and was promptly driven into the Jedi's abdomen one, two, three, four times. Kit grunted again as his blood spilled across the floor.
At least I'm in lightsaber range.
At this more intimate distance, the super-soldier was at a disadvantage. Now Kit was the predator, Reaper reduced to the role of prey. Kit's emerald lightsaber blade was here, there, everywhere: unpredictable, irresistible. His armored torso was covered in glowing trenches left from cleaving lightsaber swings, sparks raining in all directions. but the super-soldier endured.
Kit accelerated into a blur of motion complex and rapid enough to baffle even Commander Monnk's experienced gaze as he arrived with rocket troopers and Clones carrying Z-6 rotary cannons. They took up positions with the remainder of Kit's reinforcements, forming a solid line that would force the super-soldier to move in a predictable series of directions.
Having weathered the Jedi's storm of lightsaber attacks, Reaper's armor adjusted its composition again. It thickened and grew denser in strategic places, exposing portions of his bodyglove to the Nautolan. A quick thrust sudden pierced through his bicep, a synthesized hiss erupting from his helmet as Reaper's arm froze in position as Kit held firm for a moment. He withdrew, expecting the arm to drop. What happened instead was entirely expected.
Something glimmered around the hole, forming a silvery liquid that moved with mechanical precision. The Nautolan swore he saw geometric formations within as they stitched together to cover the hole and formed a silver plate over the wound.
What are you?
Reaper dropped to one knee, twin blasters popping out of the raised knee guard and firing a staccato of bolts that struck the Nautolan's legs. Kit buckled and Reaper took advantage. Boosting ahead as a jet of purple flame sprouted from a concealed booster, he drove his knee into the Nautolan's face and vaulted over him, letting the thrust lift him into the air. Contorting his body to spin overtop of Kit, Reaper brought his machete down in a diagonal slash as he dropped down, severing numerous cranial tendrils and cutting them short.
The pain was too much and broke the Jedi Master's concentration, faltering in place as his lightsaber fell loose in his grip. Reaper capitalized, plunging his machete in an inverted grip through Nautolan's upper left pectoral. Kit cried out as Reaper turned him into a shield, drawing his ACP repeater from behind as he took aim at Monnk and his troops.
Refusing to attack while his General was at stake, Monnk strategize the only way he could think to right now. "Get down! Everyone down!" Monnk shouted. The sudden targeted blitz of particle rounds killed most of the rocket troopers and rotary Clones before they had a chance to react, the rest hit the ground as weapons fire raked over them. Satisfied with his efforts, Reaper dragged his machete out of Kit Fisto and hurled his body into the mass of Clones, right on top of Monnk. The chain of command disabled, he turned to collect Wraith.
Saying nothing as he stored his weapons and hoisted his fellow soldier over his shoulders, Reaper turned and broke into a sprint down the hallway. The weight did nothing to slow him down, the black-clad super-soldier moving at speeds that would put a Coruscant Galactic Games 100-metre dash contestant to shame. Flicking his left arm, the panels of his gauntlet opened up to reveal a concealed missile launcher tube. He took aim at the distant wall ahead and fired a single concussive warhead that struck the durasteel and blew it apart.
Leaping through the gaping hole, Reaper kept running and did not stop as the drone of approaching gunships thundered overhead.
More reinforcements. Likely from the orbital station.
Opening a comms channel, the super-soldier spoke in binary to someone unheard. Reaper kept moving even as Wraith looked back to see troopers disembarking the landed gunships. Anakin was at the head, lightsaber flashing. He was giving chase shortly after and every fibre of Wraith's being reacted. He'd had enough encounters with Skywalker to know how dogged the Jedi could be. Raising his pistol, he fired a few scattered rounds at their assailants.
Chasing them from behind, Anakin and Torrent Company pursued the fleeing Wraith and Reaper. Forced to suspend his disbelief for moment that was, apparently, more than one super-soldier, Anakin bolted after the pair. It seemed like an entirely impossible task. The super-soldiers simply had too much of a head start. He pondered using Force Speed to catch up to them but second-guessed the idea in favour of relying on the aid of his troops. Maybe there was another way to slow them down. "Don't let them get away!" He barked.
"You heard the General, men! Weapons free!" Rex echoed. Multiple blaster rounds erupted after the Separatists and Wraith was suddenly thankful for the shield generator still strapped to him. He flinched reflexively as multiple rounds struck the energized bubble encasing him. Reaper did not react. Did not even look back. He just kept running.
His HWK-290 light freighter droned in from overhead, moving just in front of them as its rear boarding ramp lowered. Reaper lunged, boot thrusters kicking in to propel him three times the height he could leap, and landed safely on the end of the ramp. As he drew his ACP repeater, another string of binary orders were spoken into his comms. He turned and opened fire on the Republic pursuers, forcing them to take cover as the HWK accelerated up into the atmosphere.
Having stood his ground to deflect the incoming rounds, Anakin realized there was nothing more he could do from here. "Rex, get in contact with the cruisers. Tell them an unauthorized light freighter is leaving the planet. It needs to be stopped!"
"Right away, sir!" Rex affirmed.
The freighter broke atmosphere and hurtled ahead into space, nearly on the verge of escape. Reaper helped Wraith into a bunk, giving him a bacta shot as he did. "Almost there. You alright?"
"As well as can be expected." Wraith grunted as he made himself comfortable.
"You're looking alright for someone who had a factory dropped on his head." Reaper remarked.
"Apart from the fact everything hurts." Wraith replied, groaning as the softness of the mattress and pillow overtook him. It felt good to rest comfortably.
"You hang in there. I'll get you back to the Pau'an." Said Reaper as he took his leave. Wraith said nothing more, closing his eyes and letting blissful sleep claim him. It had avoided him for days now. It was overdue to treat him to such a luxury...
By the time the Venator cruisers were moving into position, the HWK was on a direct course to avoid them. Using just enough distance to avoid the possibility of tractor beams and just enough complex maneuvers to avoid a confirmed target lock, the HWK throttled forward into hyperspace the instant it was clear of enemy vessels.
Later that day…
The hologram of Anakin Skywalker flickered in the dim lighting of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office, his visage in conference with the venerable politician as well as Master Mace Windu and Grandmaster Yoda. The words he spoke filled the trio with a sense of disbelief.
"I'm sorry, Master Skywalker. Can you please repeat that?" Palpatine gently inquired. Anakin exhaled quietly, his posture somewhere between loose and tense.
"According to Master Fisto's testimony, it appeared the Separatists have a second super-soldier."
"They are producing more of these things?" Mace questioned aloud to no one in particular.
"Deception the way of the Sith is." Yoda grunted. "Deceived us into thinking only one there was."
"I can't say for sure how they go about making them, masters, all I know is that this new one was equipped with the same sort of heavy blaster-resistant armor and carried non-standard weaponry, much like Wraith." Anakin continued. "Master Fisto's wounds are being tended to but we've lost a lot of men at the planetside base."
"Not to worry, Anakin. We will make arrangements for a new detachment to take over." Palpatine promised him with a small forced smile.
"See to it the rest of Ord Cestus is secure then return to Coruscant." Mace commanded. "We'll need to compile a report about this new enemy."
"Understood, Master. I'll get right on that." Anakin replied before his transmission winked out. Nothing was spoken for a moment as the tension in the room grew a little more tangible.
"Slipped from our grasp Wraith has. Unfortunate it is." Yoda mused. "Emerges from the shadows a new enemy does."
"Evidently Count Dooku holds this particular asset in high enough regard to warrant his reclamation." Mace concurred. "What bothers me more is the fact there are more of his kind out there. More monsters like the one who killed Master Koth."
"Warn the Jedi we must. Update them to the existence of this killer." Yoda decided and Mace nodded in agreement.
"Perhaps we should not be so hasty to classify this new enemy as such a grave threat. The one we call 'Wraith' has been disabled since Geonosis, in spite of his apparent reputation. These so-called 'super-soldiers' can be defeated just like any battle droid." Palpatine proposed. Mace looked at him sharply. He opened his mouth to speak, words measured but heavy in their selection,
"Begging your pardon, Chancellor, but this thing did what would normally require an entire Clone squad to accomplish. Not to mention surviving a fight against a Master who, I can attest, has had his mettle tested by a fair number of deadly opponents. Asajj Ventress did not stop Master Fisto on Ord Cestus and General Grievous did not stop him on Vassek Three. And now he has been hospitalized by a 'super-soldier' who, to our knowledge, is completely untested. Forgive my bluntness, but I perceive this soldier to be a threat in their own right."
Palpatine raised a hand in passive acceptance, indicating his unwillingness to oppose the insights of his compatriots. "Yes, of course. Quite right, Master Jedi." He said obligingly. "Proceed as you see fit. But I would strongly encourage that we keep this revelation a secret. No need to trouble personnel with further worries." The two Masters nodded in agreement. "I will authorize the allocation of fresh troops to Ord Cestus. My only hope is that whoever encounters this new soldier next can do away with them. Who knows how many monsters the Separatists have under their banner… like they need another."
Elsewhere in the galaxy…
The HWK-290 light freighter touched down on the landing pad with a gentle hiss from the pistons in the landing struts. Shortly after, the ear entry ramp whooshed open to allow Reaper and Wraith to emerge from within, the later helping the former limp down. Waiting for them at the foot of the ramp was Doctor Sipio with a hover gurney while Count Dooku stood off to one side.
"Easy. Easy!" Sipio insisted as Reaper eased his fellow super-soldier onto the gurney.
"He's tough. Nothing he can't handle." Reaper remarked, patting Wraith's shoulder. One look at the torn and bloodied bodysuit had Sipio begging to differ.
"Handle, yes, but only with precision medical treatment." The Pau'an responded. "Although some thanks is certainly due for your efforts."
"Indeed." Dooku chimed in as he strode over. "Well done, Agent Reaper." The all-black super-soldier stiffened to attention and saluted crisply. The Count bent over to gaze upon Wraith, patting his shoulder. "Good to see you back in one piece."
"Me too, sir." Wraith agreed, closing his eyes as he pressed his helmeted head back against the gurney.
"We'll talk some more later." Dooku promised as Sipio began moving him out of the area. He watched them go for a moment, pondering the future. There was much to discuss and decide…
Author's Note: Another player from the original entry has returned! Hope the Reaper fans will rejoice.