Storm Trooper Assault Fighting Force and the Rise of the Rebel Nuisance!

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

Striding through the automatic doors, Alan entered the common area to what he would call normal levels of insanity for Hammer Squad. He marched forward, back stiff as a board, carefully stepping around the squad’s wounded demolitionist and crossing to the water cooler. He bent at the waist, ignoring the commotion behind him as he snatched up a cone-shaped cup and held it beneath the spout. Little did he know such a measure would prove to be utterly useless, as no sooner had his gloved finger depressed the spout’s plunger did he find himself tossed backward as the water tank detonated in a spray of water and plastic.

“HAH!” Fuse whooped, dashing forward excitedly and nearly cracking Eyes across the face with an excited fist-pump. “Got him!”

“Speak of the devil. Nice of you to join us, Saint,” Sarge called from across the room, seemingly ignoring the shards of plastic falling like rain over the common area as he continued to read his paper.

“How could you have possibly known he’d be the one to trigger that?” Rampage asked, more curious than incredulous. He glanced down at his own empty drinking vessel before returning his attention to Fuse.

“Lucky guess,” the orange-armored trooper replied. “Alcohol and caffeine are the go-to for most of us.”

“Not wrong,” Shard interjected flatly, brushing bits of smoldering debris from her desk. She could do little but roll her eyes at Fuse’s flamboyant tomfoolery.

“Apologies, Commander,” Saint answered, ignoring the hooting and hollering. “I was finishing my paperwork.”

“Like I keep telling you, ‘Sarge’ is fine,” the squad leader repeated for what must have been the hundredth time at this point. He glanced down at his coffee, frowning at the large chunk of plastic that now bobbed at the surface.

“Oh thank gosh someone is putting in their forms!” Scrubsy cried. “Do...do we have a mop around here somewhere?” she inquired, eyeing the small lake that was now creeping across the floor.

“Hey, the rest of us do ours,” Rooster called from across the room, upending bis bottle of creamer and dumping the rest into his mug. “...eventually.” He took a deep sip of his brew before glancing at Saint. “Hey, is that a poster of the Emperor in your quarters?”

“Yes,” Alan replied, digging a towel out of a nearby supply bin and carefully setting to wiping the damp debris from his armor. “Our glorious Emperor Palpatine,” the trooper replied proudly. He felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought. What an honor it was to serve his excellence.

“Yeah, that picture is creepy as hell,” Grumps said, shaking his head. “Not helped by the fact that it’s right over your bed.”

“Is there something wrong with celebrating the ruler of our almighty Empire?”

“I mean, no,” Dan piped in, crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s a huge picture. It takes up the whole wall.”

“And?” Saint fired back, unable to hide his indignation.

“And for some reason he’s shirtless,” Hammer monotoned bluntly from the back of the room, shaking his head slowly. “And...flexing.”