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Ryloth's Imperial Garrison


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“Heated muja and jeni sauce again?” One of the gate guards sat back in his chair and lifted the self heating tupperware so the other three could see it. “I swear she doesn’t know how to make anything else. But at least she packed me Alderaans.” He lifted a sealed package of the delicious double baked cookies that had become all the rage some ten years before. Some group of Alderaaani expats had made themselves quite the biscuit and cookie business, and well they were delicious. 

 

He took a bit of the heated Muja, then looked back at the bank of monitors. The therms showed a single or cluster of speeders on one of the overlooking hills that caught his eye. But there wasn’t very much strange about that. He took another bite, and the guard crew began to compare their packed lunches among themselves.

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Azael nodded. They were expected- no point in creeping around any more than necessary. She stood, glancing behind her at her three comrades. They had a rough start, but hopefully they would keep their eyes on the prize. This mission was still doable, even if it would be a little bumpy. She gave them a confident smile.

 

"One last refresher- We get in, make the trade, get the slaves. Go back, get them to safety, come back for the ship. We're pirates, they're a criminal syndicate. Match made in heaven. We might see them doing some pretty bad stuff- keep your weapons holstered until the civilians are gone. We'll come back and shoot the place up after they're safe."

 

She climbed down the hill, making sure the others were with her, before approaching the entrance. She was nervous, but she didn't let that show. She walked with the confidence of a pirate who had made a big score- arrogance, a slight belief in their own invincibility. The confidence of a job well done. When she was in earshot, she placed her hands on her hips and called out.

 

"I assume this is the Guild? I called ahead- your boss should be expecting me. These fine gentlemen are my associates."

 

She'd dealt with pirates and criminals before. She knew how these things went. If she'd shown up alone they'd have likely just shot her and been done with it, taking the perceived loot without payment. The group she had likely wasn't enough to kill all the pirates as far as they could tell, but they were menacing enough and dangerous enough that it would be more trouble than it was worth to try.

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Having covered the Imperial Sith insignias on his grubby uniform with bits of armor plating and sashes, The Mantis  slung his duel ball and sickles across  his shoulders for good measure before falling in with his fellow so-called pirates.

 

Reaching out on the force, the Jensaarai shaded the area about them so as to obscure sensors and erase their very existence once they were gone. They would be but a hazy memory as soon as they were gone from sight.

 

Offering a wirey smile to his fellow ‘pirates’ he kept his eyes focused on the guard that met them, noting his fellows meandering over should things go awry.

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"Nawww... Ah thank she's green, brother!" Tilt finally states in an overtly and explosive tone, continuing, "Sorry for our odd silence we've recently had a few a drinks, but more importantly I'll tell you our names!" 

 

Tilt stuck one finger up at the camera. He was moving into this role well wanting to distract the guards from whatever Pryf was cooking up. He needed to act now in this awkward silence. Tilt honestly had no idea as to how he should respond however he just made whatever it was up as he went. There was the goal, sell the ship, and he really needed to get that across. 

 

"Mah name is Papa Smoke, bonfied badass of the Badass Company of Badassitued! These fine ladies and dude here have come to make a trade! This here," Tilt exaggeratingly gestured, "Is my employer Lady Lovestreak, known for stealin' hearts, cutting throat, and her perfects legs! That o er there is Jazz Hands Jeffrey," Gesturing to Pryf, "Fastest hand we have and but watch out, Brothur! He'll hypnotize ya with funky funky fresh Shiieeet!!!" 

 

Tilt then went on to dramatically point to the red, devil-looking Jensaarai, "And this man?! This motherf***ker right here?!" Just when Tilt seemed to be getting to an explosive name-drop he simply said,  "This is Todd. He's the Companies psychiatrist and accountant. He's valued. And that's not all, y'all ever tried Papa Smokes Badass Smoked Cooked Jerky Smokes?! 

 

Tilt proceeds to pull out a handful of jerky strips from a random pocket, a variety of colors and colored blotches painting the meat itself, "These pieces of meats come from a variety of predatory and giant animals, cooked with a variety of herbs and fruit, you're mouth will be like a junkie needing ketamine, begging for another orgasmic taste! Ya want sweet? We got you covered! Spicy?! I'm your wingman any day! But for just a few credits these strips could be yours!!!"

 

Tilt's exaggerating... Act was loud, proud, and in all honestly, he pulled it off well. Well the best that he could make it. Acting wasn't his strong-suit but was a master of bullshitery, he just hoped he pulled it off well enough. The jerky part was more an advertisement, a cheap way to coax the guards a little while getting a few credits along the way. If anything, his convincing act was comedic. 

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Azael crossed her arms as the rest of her allies approached. Normally, little jokes and puns like that were right up her alley, but right now, she was playing her part, same as everyone else. She gave him a slight sneer at the pirate for his joke and an eye roll at Tilt for his before she answered.

 

"Azael. I called ahead earlier today- I have business with your boss. Don't mind the loudmouth- he thinks he's funnier than he is."

 

This was where things would start to get dicey. If they played their cards wrong or their cover was blown, they would be right in the middle of a criminal stronghold. They could probably shoot their way out, but it wouldn't be pretty and innocent people would probably die. Her mind raced- She wished that she'd gotten a chance to speak before the man had started talking, but it probably helped to sell them as a rag tag group rather than skilled operatives of the Rebel Alliance. She was trying to think of exit strategies. The compound was big, and uncharted. She'd have to keep note of the path they took going in, or secure a map from the security systems inside if things got dicey. Her foot tapped impatiently, both from the wait and as a side effect of her nervousness. She always got jitters right as things started getting interesting. It helped her stay on her toes, not miss her surroundings. For example, the fellow criminals that were slowly making their way over. Her red eyes shot over towards them for only a brief second, acknowledging their presence, before looking back at the man who seemed to be in charge.

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The guard blinked and he let the clipboard drop to the counter in front of him. He gave a quizzical look at the chiss and with his left hand he reached under the counter and flipped a switch. The Other guards in the small outpost shack looked equally incredulous as they reached for their belt holsters and pulled their blaster pistols. These tests from leadership to see if their prowess for stopping infiltrators were really getting ridiculous. 

 

“So you are all together eh? And you all have an appointment with him?”

 

Deep in the compound a few audible alarms turned on, and another two squads of guards made their way down towards the gate. If there was going to be an arrest or capture, these men wanted to be a part of it. 

 

The main guard regretted that he had not yet finished all his cookies as he sighed and gestured to Azael to approach the window. 

 

“You are all under arrest. For this stunt. Come on now.” He looked at the man in battered clone wars era armour and the red eyed alien behind him. “Produce your redfor cards, why did you think that would kriffing work? Honestly pathetic.”

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Her mind raced- His reaction didn't surprise her, but it did nearly blow the entire plan. He caught herself before she reached for her weapon- she could still talk through this. They were expected, and she would use that. She played into the idea that she was a pirate with a hot score, scowling at him as he spoke.

 

"Before you arrest us and really piss me off, why don't you do two things. First, actually check the clipboard in your hands, and confirm that I'm on there. Then, if that doesn't satisfy you, call your boss, because we aren't your kriffing redfor, and if we were, he would congratulate you for doing your job by calling it in. If we aren't, then he'll tell you to let us in himself, and then you're not arresting people who are here to do business with him, which would not go well for negotiations. But if you try and lay a hand on any one of us we'll shoot you and all of your friends out here dead, which would be doing both you and your boss a favor by the looks of it, because I doubt he'll take that kind of bungling by you kindly from what I've heard of the man, and then we'll go find someone with the foresight to not arrest their business partners on a whim from the words of a man who's clearly not hired onto my crew for his brains. Now think real carefully about your next move."

 

She hoped that the assortment of people with heavy arms and armor behind her accentuated her point- They were here right now to look threatening, and her language had no hidden meanings- it was time to look threatening.

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“Ma’am, I don’t really care if I piss you off. And in fact, you showing up with all these clowns in tow tells me you aren’t actually here to do anything but cause trouble. And now you are threatening me and my men.” 

 

He shook his head and the blasters of the security team aimed steadily at the arrogant Chiss. If she somehow thought threatening him over doing his job would get her any further towards the big boss then she was surely mistaken. 

 

“What kind of holofilom do you think this is?” The second guard group approached from the gate, their blasters also up and at the ready. “No each of you I want you to slow and surely drop any weapons you have holstered, and take off any masks of helmets you have.” 

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“Well, this is going to get interesting,” The Jensaarai Defender growled loud enough to be heard as he slowly reached up to pull the cloth coverings away from the Imperial Sith insignia hidden beneath on his oily uniform. Relying on the force, he moved with speed. His actions were fluid, the lethal dance of a warrior, practiced and executed with perfection. Stepping forward, the Defender fell into a forward roll towards the closest guards, staying low enough to fall beneath the inevitable crossfire wrought by the clone commandos.

 

Ripping the well oiled chains from his shoulders, The Mantis lashed out, the sickles whipping through the air in the chains, deadly razors with lethal intent. Throwing them outwards on the chains, The Mantis allowed the force the swirl and whorl about him guiding the weapons towards the ankles and shins of the closest foes, seeking to entangle them and cut them off as he pulled them back towards himself with a yank, both physically and on the force.
 

The op seemed blown, and their hope now rested on not being found out. Prison was not an option. They would need to fight their way out and into the underworld masses where they could blend in. Someone would need to make sure security holos were erased.

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Jude's attention shifted through his surroundings like lightning, his heard thumped heavily in his chest as a bead of cold sweat dripped down his forehead. As guards poured in, weapons drawn, the tension rose within him. Azael was doing everything in her power to keep things from escalating any farther, there were still people inside counting on them for rescue.

 

No such luck. They raised their weapons and demanded surrender.

 

For a moment he froze, waiting on a signal. He scanned the faces of his new comrades, the tension in his muscles now almost unbearable. In his mind he begged for Azael to give an order, a sign, something. She'd done so well as lead of the operation so far, for a moment Jude was excited to see how she handles combat.

 

The moment the Jensaarai shifted the tension broke, and with a twitch Jude drew his pistol from its holster and aimed a bolt at their initial greeter with practiced efficiency. He shifted his finger to the second trigger, lifting the pistol level to his eye as he pointed to the farther group. The pistol jumped back as the heavy, explosive bolt left the second barrel.

 

Jude slid the pistol back into its holster with a grin as he reached for the rifle on his back, steadily walking back to put some distance between them and his DMR, letting loose a volley at the guards by the gate.

 

He had faith in his omen, nothing would bring him down, nothing could slow his drive.

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The plan had broke down. Tilt cursed in his head as the guards were now readying their weapons, and the moment the Jensaarai out his finger on his own pistol Tilt acted swiftly. With experienced speed seemingly unfathomable, Tilt pulled his own blaster pistol out in a flash, already picked his targets and fired his weapon in order. Blaster bolts found the face and throat of two guards, and the next one finding its way into the gut of the one leading the guards. He then quickly unholstered his blaster rifle with one arm, slinging the weapon from his underarm until he had the weapon at it's trigger and grip and started firing. 
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Dual wielding a pistol and a rifle was inaccurate, however in his time in the military Tilt learned to improvise for better results. The rifles aim was off by a tad, not enough to completely miss all shots but enough to either find their homes in the body of his enemy or to make the enemy take cover. Tilt's pistol was on point nearly, however that same headache came rushing back. And as soon as the head pain reached its limit something snapped in Tilts head almost like bones popping in his ears.
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Tilts, "Killswitch," Was flipped, the same he's done before many times against the CIS, an inhumane soldier against emotionless machine. And slowly his vision was filled with the droids instead of guards, and the allies he was with turned into either militia or other Clones. He was going to lose his mind, and it wouldn't end until someone muttered a key phrase he's heard and relaxed to over and over. For now he was focused on the mission at hand... An infiltration into a CIS compound turned awry, and reinforcements were not an option. 

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If there was one thing that he remembered, it was his time in the private security company Arasuul. He hadn’t had a good training session in ages, but the instincts were still there, even if they took longer than he would have liked. Up went the clipboard, tossed as a distraction as his hand found his level three retention holster. Down press the thumb, rock the heavy blaster forward, then up along the torso into a position of firing near his stomach. Then depress the trigger. He could feel himself slapping the trigger in the excitement of the moment, something his instructors always told him not to do. But he had not practised the long drills in over a year. So this would have to do, and the entire area was lighting up around him. 

 

His sights settled onto the creature who’s scythes were currently severing the arteries of Nathaniel Krisferi. A nice guy. And someone who certainly, at least in this guards opinion, did not deserve to be cut down like a nerf sow. The sights settled for a moment and his eye only saw the front post of the blaster and he let loose with everything. 

 

Almost in slow motion he could see one of his brilliant crimson blaster bolts slam into the side of the creature’s neck. Blowing through flesh and bone. Killing the Jensaari Defender almost instantly. Pitching him into the dark, sun beaten dust of Ryloth. 

 

Of course the guard himself did not last much longer, and a bolt of Jude’s caught him under the chin and pitched him into the crumpled wrappers of his cookies. 

 

It had only taken a few seconds, but hundreds of rounds were expended, the front gate guards were dead. And every single alarm was blaring in the slaver facility. 

 

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Azael watch as everything seemed to unravel in slow motion. She and the Jensaarai seemed to see eye to eye for the first time as the blasters came out. They needed to kill these people, and they needed to do it fast. There was no time for communication. And then, as the others leapt into action, she watched as the guard in front of her lifted his blaster. She went to draw her blaster, but Jude was faster, and the Guard was even faster as he mowed down the Jensaarai. Her heart dropped and the baster fire died down. She could hear the alarms inside. She struggled to think about a way out of this, but her mind failed her. She saw the Sith emblem, exposed when the Jensaarai- had she even gotten his name, she wondered briefly- had pulled his weapons off his armor. There was shouting now as the alarms blared.

 

"We need to go now- this op is blown. Pull out, get to the speeders. When you get on, bolt in a different direction. We'll meet back at the ships, and go from there."

 

With that, she turned, blasting the camera for good measure as she did, sprinting for her speeder at the top of the hill.

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Jude's eyes widened as he watched the Jensaarai fall into the sands, lifeless. His thoughts circled his mind as he continued back, how a man so defiant and full of life could just fall limp, like any other inanimate object. Their arguments and back-and-forth at the speeder shop taunted his memory, the charade that he'd put on dropping with him into the hot and indifferent sands.

 

His focus was snapped as he heard his comrade shout out. "We need to go now- this op is blown. Pull out, get to the speeders. When you get on, bolt in a different direction. We'll meet back at the ships, and go from there." Alarms blared both here and in the distance ahead of them. She was right, there was no way they could finish this safely. Especially not without putting innocent lives in danger. As the last guard dropped she made a sprint for the speeders, launching a bolt at one of the cameras, out of spite perhaps. Jude's heart hang heavy as he remembered the offer to reminisce together after this was all over. They had such high hopes, so prideful. Now one of the men that he might have called friend, would never share his stories.

 

Jude followed not far behind Azael, keeping his blaster rifle close as he made the climb back to the his speeder. At the top of the hill he keyed on the speeder, but turned back to the crest of the hill and crouched down, refusing to leave before the last man made his way back.

 

He couldn't lose another.

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Tilt shot down two more droids, alarms blazed in the background as one of his squad mates Quarter downed. He was a recent addition to the company and didn't have much experience in the line of duty. That said it enraged the Captain even further that the newest recruit was gunned down before claiming glory for the company. Before he even got to serve his full purpose. But right now wasn't the time to mourn. Right now all forces were pulling away and that meant Tilt needed to retreat as well. 

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The Clone Captain in all his twisted sense of reality slung his rifle around to the back and picked up the corpse, slinging the body over his left shoulder. Tilt shot off a few more rounds before quickly retreating behind the dune, the dead weight of the Jensaarai doing nothing to slow him down as the adrenaline and madness coursed through both vein and mind. As soon as he reached the speeder bike he only heard the last of what another trooper had said. Split up and regroup. At least, of the constant buzzing in his head would stop, he'd think mire clearly. Fastening the body to the back of the speeder, Tilt hopped on and sped off to the East, toward a large set of boulders and crevices. 

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Tilt's vision blurred and his senses dulled, he was between focused and unfocused. His head hurt and Tilt could not seem to get his mind straight. A plethora in f thoughts ran through from the stunt he pulled to the suddenness of flashbacks to the good ol' days of the Clone Wars. And that was the problem there. He wasn't dealing with droids anymore and his actions made things too difficult... Now they needed to get back into the CI- the Mercenary compound in some other fashion. If only he could snap out of this illusion he was under.

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“What do you mean the op is blown?” 

 

Captain Ailan turned to the other three operatives in the room, where they had holed up for the last three weeks while waiting for the second team to come in and eliminate the asset. 

 

“Yeah they got caught up with the gate guards. A classic blunder. Buty there will be other opportunities, we have a lead that the leader will be out on the town next week. Some auctioneering to do. Heavy Guard, but not too much more than that.” 

 

Ailan nodded and dialed Azael comm.

 

“Bring your team. We have new operational details.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Azael was nervous- these kinds of things weren't her strong suit. She was a lot of things- thinker, a thief. A trickster. But what she wasn't, was an assassin. Storming a stronghold full of hostile combatants with a crew of trained fighters at her back? She could do that. SHe had a purpose then, a way to ensure she was being useful. But this? Slinking in alleys and rooftops and second story windows waiting for a transport to shop up so they could shoot it out? If this was what she was good at she would have taken a very different course in her like. She fiddled with that blaster pistol in her hands, glancing out her own at the place that Jude was hiding. This was his element- This was what he'd trained for. She was just a tagalong, an extra blaster, in case things got hairy. She closed her eyes- She had no qualms about this. The man was vile from what she'd learned in the original briefing, and the kind that didn't get better with a slap on the wrist. She wasn't like a Jedi or an Imperial Knight- the fall to the dark side wasn't her fight. But she worried about the civilians in the street that may get caught in the crossfire. Still, it had to be done. With luck, they'd clear out when they saw the transport. Those men tended to have reputations among the locals.

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Stopping the speeder deep into a small group of high rocks, possibly plateaus, but regardless of that Tilt remained on his vehicle for a few minutes before succumbing to his madness. He almost went limp and fell off onto the sandy ground, struggling to get up. His head throbbed and pain shot through his spine almost like he was being frozen alive. Aftermath of his Cryostasis no one knew, and a good reasoning for his sudden outburst at the guarded gates. Tilt almost screamed at the pain but held it in dealing with it in his own way, his mind having a battle with itself. 

 

And like a twig snap he heard a loud pop in his ears and felt a sudden trickle in on his right love, Tilt ripped the head scarf away and wiped at his earlobe, only to see that blood covered his finger. Shaking nausea and dizziness away, the Clone ripped away a piece of cloth and twisted it into a cone and shives it in his ear carefully. He check the other ear but nothing from it. Tilt steadied himself by putting a hand against a boulder and slowly worked his way up till standing. After gaining a semblance of balance and sanity somewhere Tilt looked to the speeder with the corpse, who wasn't a clone trooper but was in fact Pryf. A sudden rush of guilt flooded the still-living trooper. 

 

Tilt realized he had made a major error, whether it was his or his minds fault he didn't was to think on it. He didn't know if the others made it out like he did or if they were captured or shot or worse. And still, he felt the mission wasn't over, not by a long shot. No, this wasn't one of those moments where the protagonist feels heroic by thinking that he can gather a new team or doing something extravagant. He didn't feel heroic, he didn't feel some sense of wanting justice. Tilt was pissed. And the more he thought about the man who saved him and his brothers from that rock, dead because of Tilts meltdown, his anger grew more and more until a sudden calm struck him. 

 

Tilt walked over to the body of Pryf and rested a hand on the dead mans shoulder, saying quietly, "I'm sorry for my blind blundering. But I'll make it up to you. Rest easy." 

 

Tilt then slung his blaster rifle around and started the speeder up again. He took off albeit slowly and used inclines to reach near the top of the highest peak. Once there, he climbed a good ten feet until getting atop a flat area of the rock face where he had a full and not so far view of the base. He was about a mile... Three miles from the place, and they hadn't pursued the Clone which played in Tilts favor. He lied on his belly and positioned himself to where he can fire steady shots. The idea was to infiltrate the base, however going based on the defenses of the place and the level of targets... It was clear that he was over his own head. A one man operation wouldn't work. 

 

Tilt climbed back over after gauging the enemy and hopped onto the speeder bike. He drove out and remained barely of eyeshot of the fortress until reaching the base of operators. There, he was given a task to be placed in a basement. At first it seemed like rubbish, but when he looked it over the room allowed for clear view as a military ambush. Tilt left Pryfs body half-ceremoniously atop a crate, covered under a light sheet. He, along with Riggs and Thumper, took their places and wait for everything to kick off. 

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IEDs always made Jude feel uneasy, his thoughts dwindled on an ambush he'd laid many years ago. Civilians had been caught by the planted explosives on the roadway, their intended target simply went around the attack. Similarly there was a large civilian presence here, in this street, he simply couldn't take the chance. Jude finished linking the EMP to his detonator before scanning the rooftops, making special note of the window he'd asked Azael to watch through. A mix of dust and debris covered the make shift device, concealing it against the trash of the streets. He pulled the strap of his rifle closer to his shoulder, securing the large frame of the IQA-11 in place as he made his way down the street. Roughly a block down was a brilliant vantage point, overlooking the area. He made his way past the tripwires and simple alarms as he climbed the stairwell of the building. On the rooftop of a two floor building he laid, the barrel of his rifle only barely poking through a small hole in the stone wall.

 

There were paths that would lead through buildings and dip into allies. There were fallback points, flanking routes, redundancies upon redundancies. Azael was to be behind the craft when the EMP goes off, with routes that lead past and eventually linked with Jude's building, Tilt was much closer to the action, being set up in the basement of the building two down from the EMP. The window on the lowest floor was at shoulder height, perfect for a mounted emplacement.

 

The stage was set, Jude's breaths were slow, controlled, and calmed. They were ready, at least as ready as they could be.

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The Chariot LAV kicked a long cloud of dust from the permacrete roadway, slashing bystanders and the guards walking beside it with a sleet of harsh dust. The Target sat high in his seat, surrounded by three very young slave girls. Two red girls and one a stark blue. The blue one sitting on his lap and all three with high ex explosive collars. 

 

The crowds were obviously hostile to him and his band of soldiers but he did not seem to care. For these were the daughters of the important nobles on Ryloth. And with them he held the planet in his hand.

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The LAV was in view, no one blocking the small basement window from the view of the clones. The grey craft had atop it the target along with three young girls, slaves, and a horse of soldiers and guards around the approaching vehicle. Tilt thought for a second not considering if the bastard would bring any civilians with him, more than likely they could be used as a bargaining chip or a shield from any possible gunfire. The locals seemed to shout and spit at the man with hatred, so there was no doubt he wasn't in the people's favor. Regardless, how a man with very little power overtook people of Ryloth was beyond him. 

 

"I would suggest that I go and take a position on top," Thumper states looking through the basement window, "Then again this space is concealed, up there isn't. Thoughts, Captain?"

 

"We stay put. Follow the plan, and do it right. Remember, no civilian casualties, keep your shots focused and contained. And do not hit those slaves either, last thing we need is to draw attention to us by any media or onlooker." Tilt replied, readying his DC-17M on semiautomatic burst setting. While he could have set it to automatic or three round burst, Tilt had civilians who could potentially get in the way or his shots hit a slave. 

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Through the grainy scope he watched the craft drift along the road. Unfortunately, it seemed, while the pedestrians gave the IFV and its guard a wide birth, though showed a fair bit of outward aggression. Hopefully once the shooting started they'd know to scatter, for now he had to be sure to check fire before each shot. The display flickered, and tension built up as his sweaty palm held the remote for the EMP.

 

He scanned the occupants again. Their target, so proudly atop his throne, three slaves around him, including one in his lap. Her young, blue figure obscured his shot, he certainly wouldn't take the chance of the shot. Especially with the thick collars they wore, there was no doubt there was explosives embedded in them. The EMP would easily have the strength to disable them, at least for long enough to deal with the entourage.

 

Very slowly, and very deliberately he reached for his communicator, and whispered to his companions over their secured line. "As soon as we hit the switch, if you have a clean shot, take it. We'll mop up the grunts afterwards." 

 

The vehicle made closer to the device he'd carefully laid, and Jude flicked the safety from the detonator. He continued waiting.

 

Just as the dust began to clear from the device, Jude hit the switch. There was a flash of white and blue, lights popped and sparked as they died, near everything that ran on electricity fried abruptly.

 

He laid, near motionless, tracking the target, waiting for either an opening, or for one of the others to take the shot. The enemy would be startled, but he still had some surprise up his sleeve.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The EMP blast enveloped the open top Chariot-LAV, killing the running engine instantly and dropping the vehicle the meter or so onto the roadway. The passengers screamed at the rapid fall, but there was no great injury, other than one of the girls who had slammed her head into the sidewall of the vehicle. Not dead, but there was a good amount of blood and she looked to be in a seizure. 

 

He grabbed  the youngest red skinned Twi-Lek and held her against him as a shield as guards began to scan the skyline for any enemies.

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Azael had a shot- She was sure of it. But shooting wasn't her specialty- She couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't end up hitting one of the slaves, or one of the other civilians. Instead, she acknowledged that the better shooters in the ambush would be better prepared, if she could give them the opportunity. With Tilt on the opposite side of the transport, she was sure the trained commando would have a better shot. She leaned out the window, firing her pistol towards the back of the transport, hoping to draw the man's attention towards herself and give Tilt an open shot at his back.

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As soon as the EMP struck Riggs almost pulled his trigger until Tilt stopped him. The first clone looked to his Captain but Tilt looked onward, seeing the craft fall at it's three meter height. He saw one slave girls hit her head on the side of the vehicle, she begun spasming and as much as any of the three clones wanted to help they couldn't. They couldn't rush out there and help the girl, but what they could do was kill the bastard who put her in that position. More specifically, the slave owner holding the Twi'lek people hostage. 

 

As soon as the blaster shots hailed from Azael's position, Tilt trained his sights on the head of the slaver who was now surrounded by guards and held a red Twi'lek again st him as a shield. Coward. Tilt wait for the right opportunity, his other clone brothers getting antsy and impatient already picking their targets. They were careful to not shoot at civilians any time they begun. Tilt chose his time wisely, and the moment the target turned his head to where the back was facing the clones line of fire, he clicked the trigger. 

 

The blue bolt of energy sung through the air and as quickly as it was fired it met it's target. And from their position when the targets head nearly exploded a chorus of bolts flurries from the basement window and into any guard standing in their wake. Each shot was precise, carefully calculated in mere seconds, proving the Clones' aims true. 

Edited by Tilt07
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