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

[Trixie]

With their redeployment to the Sulaco, Hammer Squad had been given the best of the best equipment to choose from. The 13th Stormtrooper legion was stationed out of the docked Venator spacecraft on Tier 1 and had taken in some of the underlying Trooper squads in the area. One of them had been Hammer. Assigned personal living space along with their own area of the giant hangar, team members of Hammer Squad were living the good life. That is until the coffee machine broke in the break room on their floor.

“Who in their right mind let Fuse fix the coffee maker?” Sarge said from behind his morning paper. “We need finely roasted beans not finely roasted soldier.” He adjusted his feet, which were propped up on a nearby table.

“Very funny, Sarge.” Fuse said as sparks sprayed from the back panel of the disassembled coffee machine. “I meant to do that.”

Fuse furrowed his brow as he rooted around the internals of the brewer for which the motor had stopped working.

“Just have Scrubsey put in the paperwork for a new one man. Don’t blow us up.” Rooster said as he entered their break room having gone to another section to use their coffee maker.

“Where’s the fun in that?” As the words left Fuse’s mouth a unified groan came from his fellow team mates.

“Hahaha! Got it!” The orange armored clone trooper announced as he twisted together two wires.

As Fuse plugged in the power to the coffee maker the water pump that he had fixed immediately threw sparks and ejected a stream of flame onto his right arm, setting the armor ablaze. This made Rampage clap his hands and laugh with amusement as Fuse stood up, staring at his blazing arm. It was like he was unsure of how to proceed. From behind him Dan had grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall. Raising the metal device above his head he conked Fused with it before spraying him down with the frozen carbon dioxide.

“Really? We’ve been here a week.” He muttered.

From the corner their assigned medic turned the page on whatever book he was reading and grunted.

“I’m supposed to be on leave, Fuse.” Grumps said, putting down his reading material and grabbing the kitchen first aid kit from the wall.

[Zack Fair]

Ol’ Rooster was back, baby.

Things had gone a little bit south in his life, and it culminated with the disgruntled secondary rejoining the Empire for the sake of a steady paycheck. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but at least he was adjusting relative to his own experience. For instance, when the coffee maker literally burst into flames in front of him he’d simply turned on his heel and marched down the hall to steal a cup of coffee from Wolf Squad. After a little bit of shouting, mocking, and general name calling, Rooster returned to his living quarters with a fresh cup of coffee, a short comment, and a whole thing of French vanilla creamer. Better than how they started, in his eyes. That was the new Rooster. If he had to put up with being an Imperial again, he damn sure was going to enjoy the little things.

So ol’ Rooster, or Jack Jensen as he was known to closer friends, slid into a chair and kicked his feet up on a table. He set the creamer on a nearby table as he watched the fallout from Fuse’s recent shenanigans. Nearby, the team’s designated sniper, with the callsign “Hammer” sat with a similar level of comfort, and decided to shoot for some idle banter.

“So,” Hammer opened up the conversation. “I heard you took a stint as a farmer in the Vasty Deep. What was that place called?”

“Windfall Island,” Rooster answered. “It was a good gig. I’d still be there if I had a say in the matter. Nice little farm, grew what I wanted and made good money.”

“You bring any good shit back with you?” Hammer quickly asked.

Rooster cocked an eyebrow. He got the undertones of the question.

“Man, I didn’t grow anything like that,” Rooster answered flippantly. “Besides, even if I did, I walked through the same Imperial scanners you did.”

“Then what did you even grow out there?” Hammer responded, heavily disappointed by the loss of a presumed connection for illicit drugs.

“Corn, mostly,” Rooster answered, taking a quick sip of his coffee. “It was a pretty good harvest while I was there.”

Hammer’s interest had completely evaporated and left a little bit of resentment in its wake. “Fuck, you’re the most boring person I’ve ever met.”

Rooster and Hammer both jumped at the sound of hands slamming onto the table beside them. They quickly turned to see the squad’s receptionist, affectionately dubbed “Scrubsey” leaning in closely to their conversation, panting slightly due to the speed she sprinted over with.

“Oh my gosh, tell me about your corn!”

[Minato Namikaze]

LT-D4N, or Dan as his squad mates liked to call him, sighed as he lowered the extinguisher. Fuse was good with explosives, he new how to demolish something. But whenever he took to trying to fix something, he would – somehow – transform it into a fiery mess, or another explosive. Lucky for them, he hadn’t gotten that far yet. The camouflage coloured stormtrooper pushed Fuse aside and snatched the coffee maker from the demolition nut as Grumps tended to Fuse.

‘Can you fix it, Dan?’ Sarge queried, eyes never leaving his paper.

‘Uhh…’ Dan hesitated as he looked over the coffee maker’s internal machinery. ‘I don’t think so.’ He spoke, Fuse peering over his shoulder.

‘I’d rather not have to put in a requisition for a new one.’ Sarge replied, flipping to the next page of his newspaper.

‘Sorry Sarge, it’s busted. Fuse has, somehow, turned it into an explosive of some kind.’ Dan spoke, confusion in his voice. He had no idea how Fuse managed to do this all the time.

‘Well I fixed it, at least.’ Fuse stated proudly.

‘Yeah, fixed it to explode.’ Dan scowled, picking up the extinguisher and giving the trooper another smack. Sarge flipped another page as he sighed more paperwork.

‘Oh my gosh, tell me about your corn!’ Scrubsey exclaimed loudly.

‘It’s yellow, grows in a tall stalk, and you eat it.’ Dan mocked from behind his helmet. They couldn’t see his face, but he was grinning. Hammer, Rooster, and Scrubsey all turned their heads towards him. He couldn’t see their faces, but he knew they were glaring at him.

After a couple moments of silence, and what Dan thought was an unnecessarily long period of time glaring at him, he raised his hands up, palms faced towards them, as an apologetic measure.

‘Okay, okay. Tell us about your corn.’

[Jade Harley]

Satisfied that Dan wouldn't !!!¡!rudely!¡!!!¡ interrupt again, Scrubsey turned back to Rooster, ignoring the heavy sigh from Hammer.

ST-JD3, otherwise known as 'Scrubsey' by the rest of her force, knew all about corn. For instance, she knew that it was kinda hard to find the stuff in Coruscant in its hard-shelled form, preferably bagged-up and cracked. She also knew that the small population of ducks on a little pond at least five city blocks away from HQ loved corn, and that she felt obligated to lug the stuff over there every twenty four hours for the enjoyment of her feathered friends. Ducks, Scrubsey had learned, were remarkably good listeners, and could be cajoled into a perfect routine with offerings of snacks.

Basically, those web-footed quackers were the antithesis of the troopers she had to work with. She didn't even know if her colorful sticky note reminders (carefully stashed inside helmets almost every day) were working, seeing as she had observed Granny using them as coasters to rest coffee mugs on. She was also pretty sure Shard pinned them to the wall to use as target practice. Still, Scrubsey soldiered on, answering phones and trying to ensure everyone around her stayed well-nourished and hydrated. It was definitely her calling, even if she still found discarded and highly dangerous weaponry left in the locker room showers at least twice a week.

Not that she didn't, like, like her cohorts, but it got pretty nerve-wracking when things were blowing up 24/7 because Fuse apparently had a nervous tic called PSYCHOPATHY. Plus, snacks didn't really do... Well, anything to improve workplace efficiency, which just stunk on so many levels.

Anyway. Scrubsey was eager to hear all about Rooster's corn, because as far as she was concerned, corn chops were harder to smuggle through Coruscant's tiers than whatever illicit items the rebel scum were always peddling around.

Rooster just stared at her, having not expected this kind of reaction from... uh, anyone. And how had she even heard him from across the room? Did Scrubsey have supersonic hearing or something?

He shook his head, hunching over his coffee a bit. "Er, to tell you the truth, Scrubsey, there's not much to say. The stuff brought all kinds of nasty stuff to my front porch. Birds, rats, snakes—"

"Were there ducks?" Scrubsey asked with way too much eagerness, still crazy invested in the conversation.

"... You know, I think there were a few."

[Roger Smith]

Not for the first time that day, Hammer brought a hand up to cover the eyes of his helmet, in a gesture reminiscent of one usually accompanied by a long, exasperated sigh and a whispered 'oh my fucking god'. He mumbled darkly under his breath, the words lost in the general hub-bub of the break room thanks to the muffling of his helmet.

He tuned back into the ongoing conversation just in time to hear the tail end of a very short conversation about ducks. "So are you, like...secretly the Duck Whisperer or something, Scrubsey?" he suddenly cut into the lull in the duck-related back and forth. "Or do you just have a...thing for water fowl?"

Rooster let out a faint sigh of relief, glad for the reprieve from the onslaught of avian and crop-focused querying as Scrubsey turned toward their surlier conversation partner. "Er...what?"

"I mean, like...ducks." Hammer held up a hand, fingers folded into a crude shadow-puppetry-without-a-light-to-cast-a-shadow-and-thereby-ruining-the-'shadow'-part-of-it-all imitation of a duck's head. "'Quack' and stuff. Like...what's up with that? Why the aggressive interest in a bunch of cranky water fowl?"

From the stark silence that followed his questions, Hammer felt like he might as well have slapped Scrubsey, insulted her mother, and announced he'd cooked and eaten her favorite pet duck (which he already strongly suspected she had one of) all in the same breath. Even Rooster shifted uncomfortably in his seat and suddenly became very interested in making sure his coffee was properly stirred.

"....well, I'll just..." Hammer shifted and rose from his seat, shuffling off. "Go find a quiet corner somewhere to chew on my foot in peace. Don't...don't mind me." And he quickly shuffled off out of the room. "Scuse me...pardon me...sorry, Sarge..." he muttered as he maneuvered through the room, only stopping to stare in wonderment and awe at the new Incendiary Beverage Producing Device before he was gone.

A moment later, his voice drifted back. "I HAVE AN INTENSE AVERSION TO ALL THINGS AVIAN, OKAY?! GET OFF ME!"

[Gilgamesh]

ST- Y8T or Grumps as they called him groaned as bright red flames entered his peripheral vision. Grumps closed his book of Pride and Prejudice, hiding the magazine of Stormtrooper smut he was actually reading. He glared at Fuse for a moment, alas the naked ladies with Stormtrooper helmets would have to wait. Making sure that the magazine wasn't sticking out of its disguise he walked over to the First Aid Kit looking for whatever Fuse needed. As he was searching the extensive cabinet of Medicine, Palpatine knows Hammer Squad needs it, he turned his head to see Hammer storming out of the room screaming about his fear of birds. 

Grumps moaned at Fuse who was laying on the ground, rubbing his head, "How bad is it?" The insane demolitionist took off the armor covering his arm, inspecting the burn.

"It isn't bad, looks mostly superficial," Fuse spoke without any concern in his voice. Grumps grabbed a small spray can of Anti-Burn Ointment before walking over to Fuse. 

"What the fuck do you mean it's not bad! These are at least second-degree burns!" Grumps screamed at Fuse, his face contorted in an expression of surprise, anger, and resentment. Unfortunately, he could only convey his anger through his voice, and the Hammer Squad could easily tell. 

Fuse spoke casually, with absolutely no concern in his voice, "Take it easy Grumps, that burn stuff you got will treat it all the same."

Grumps began to go on one of his famous rants, "It's not the fucking same stuff." He threw up his arms in defeat as he walked back to the First Aid Kit, "Those second-degree burns are gonna need an entirely different ointment, you dunce. Why the hell do you think I asked you how bad it was?" Grumps got a second, different Anti-Burn Cream and stomped back to fuse, kneeling over and applying the creamer to the burn.

"What kind of idiot doesn't know to put out flames on his own fucking arm?!" Grumps muttered to himself as he finished rubbing the ointment around Fuse's arm returned the ointment to the cabinet. Grumps sat back down mumbling to himself and opened his book with the 'romance' magazine.

A new voice spoke up, "What are you looking at!?" Grumps quickly turned to see the Squad's mom, Eye peering over at Grumps' Magazine. He quickly closed his book and banged it against his head.

"Shit."

[Kelly MacAryn]

Terrence, who everyone insisted on calling Rampage for reasons that continued to escape him, stood up from his seat on the countertop of the breakroom kitchenette and strode over to the coffeemaker. He wasn't terribly interested in Grumps' reading habits. What Fuse would end up doing to the coffeemaker on the other hand was something he'd been wondering all morning - it's just that nobody else would let him get close enough to the damn thing to really give it a good look. 

"Don't even think about it." said Sarge, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper.

"Why not?" asked Terrence, spreading his arms wide as though presenting a great big pallet of persecuted innocence for the world to see. 

"Because you're going to take whatever Fuse did and make it worse. It's a bomb now, and you just cannot leave that shit alone. You know it. I know  it. Scrubsey knows it - "

Hearing her name, the squadron's paperwork czar cleared her mental logjam over Hammer's impossible-to-process aversion to ducks and exclaimed. "He's right! That is a definitely a thing that I know!" 

"-so don't even pretend, son. If we let you touch that thing, you're going to say something like, 'hot damn, if Fuse had just added more French Roast this would've made a passable Class-A Thermal Detonator'. And then we're going to have to tackle you to stop you from adding more beans and turning this entire floor into an espresso-scented crater."

Rampage put his duravlex-gauntleted hand on his chin and thought about that, looking to his comrades for support - and found that half of them were watching Granny criticize Grumps' reading material and half of them were nodding and making conciliatory sounds of general agreement. 

"He's got you in a box, man." said Rooster. "You should probably just sit back down."

[The Borg]

Stormtrooper 4LX—alias ‘Sarge’—let out of a soft chuckle as the hustle and bustle of the room continued to wash over him.

They had relocated their team to this fancy yet crippled warship on Tier 1, and Sarge wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Pay grades had increased, even if their ranks had all remained the same (which was fine with the lifetime noncom), and a few of the less experienced troopers had already started to receive benefits packages. Sarge had tried to preach about the good value of solid, monthly investments into the 401k and the mutual plan that the Empire offered. Often, he was met with apathy, which was what he often expected. People in the Omniverse were often so focused on death and dying that they never appreciated what it was like to actually live.

Sarge glanced at a family photo on the corner of his desk. His wife and three girls smiled back at him from the framed image. The twins were five years old, and his youngest daughter was three, which meant the image was now a year out of date. All had celebrated another year since then, so Sarge would have to replace the picture in due time.

“Sarge, you have those 10-W3 forms?”

The stormtrooper glanced up from his desk and stared blankly at Scrubsey. He had been so absorbed in the shenanigans of the others that he had forgotten all about the actual work he had set out to do this morning.

“That’s a 10-4,” he said with a smile as he reached down to his desk. He was stopped by Scrubsey, who started to shake her head.

“No, Sarge, a 10-W3, not a 10-4. We don’t need any gopher relocation certs, do we? Are we liaising with the park and rec department?” Scrubsey’s hands started to twitch. “I don’t think I have any hard copy 10-4 forms in the folder… I… do I even have those digitally?!” The woman glanced back at her computer, as if she hoped for it to answer her question. “Do I have to access the Imperial database?!”

Sarge blinked a few times as he tried to process the young woman’s almost panic-laced inquires.

“I thought you went through basic training, Scrubsey,” Sarge said, pulling the woman out of her stare down with her terminal. Although she was technically their department’s civilian administrator, the Empire had all its workers undergo standard military training (the indoctrination was an added bonus).

“Yes, Sir.”

“10-4 is military parlance… means something like ‘affirmative’…”

Scrubsey stood silent for a few moments, and then her eyes widened once more. This time, they were joined by a smile. “Oh! I got it! Good one, Sarge,” for whatever reason, the woman started to chuckle. “The paperwork, please.”

“Of course,” Sarge replied as he pulled out the folder and handed it over to the secretarial worker.

[The Vision]

Eyes tutted at Grumps.

"I'm just saying," she said in her usual dear tone, "that's quite a shameful thing that you are reading. A very disrespectful depiction of women."

Grumps subtly tucked the book behind him, sitting on it slightly. "Uh huh."

"It's a kind of theft! You are stealing this woman's... privacy!"

"Yeah."

"And it's quite unrealistic, no woman is able to do any of... oh dear, what is that-"

"C'mon, Granny, you know Grumps isn't gonna listen to you," Rooster chuckled, "He's too... invested in his reading."

Granny made a "Hmph!" noise and totted her way to the table. It was always an amusing sight, especially when clad in Stormtrooper armor.

"Ah, hello, Scrubsey!" Granny smiled warmly.

"Hello, Granny!" the secretary chirped.

Granny headed over to the counter and turned on the Quick-T teapot. "On another errand, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Scrubsey said.

"Do hurry back, dear, I would simply love to hear more about the water fowl."

Scrubsey gave Sarge a knowing look as she said to Eyes, "Ten-four!"

"Oh!" Granny exclaimed, "My apologies, I didn't realize they were gophers. And where were they moved?"

In the back, Sarge could be seen stopping mid-sip to stare at the pair of women.

"Really?" the commander muttered under his breath before taking another sip of weak coffee.

"Oh, no, Granny, it's military parlance! Means something like 'affirmative'!" the secretary explained, "Don't worry, it happens to me too."

"Ah," Eyes shrugged, "All this new-fangled lingo. I can't keep up with you kids."

The Quick-T teapot made an artificial whistling noise. Eyes tottered over to it and pressed a button, causing soothing hot water to stream out of it. A single tea bag launched out of the machine and into Granny's cup. Fuse wandered over, burns still healing, seemingly bored by Sarge's orders not to mess with the coffee machine. Granny slapped his hand away.

"Ow!" Fuse shouted, gripping the burn on his hand, "What was that for?"

"You've already weaponized one device this morning," Granny snapped, "And I quite like my tea, thank you very much."

Fuse slumped away as Granny sipped from her cup.

"Are there any biscuits left or...?"

"Hammer ate it all," Fuse muttered.

Granny shot a disapproving glance at Hammer before sitting down at the table.

"What?" the soldier said, "People were talking about birds. I got stressed."

"Dear, if you don't watch out how much you eat, you're going to start-"

Almost immediately, everyone's eyes glazed over.

"-you know, my late husband used to have a small snack at 2200 every night. Do you know how he passed?"

"Heart attack," everyone mumbled.

"Heart attack," Granny agreed sadly.

"Wait, I thought he got shot?" Rooster frowned.

"No, that was Trevor," Granny scowled, "Still don’t know who shot him. God rest his evil, evil soul."

Granny gave a slight smile before sipping her tea again. The smile quickly turned into a scowl as she noticed Grumps reading again.

"Grumps!" the old woman chided.

"What?" the medic snapped, "I like reading."

Granny shook her head slowly. "Kids these days and their pornos."

[Éowyn]

Shard watched the rest of the office as she polished a knife. Fuse was poking at his newest injury, Grumps was reading his “book” as Eyes watched him disapprovingly while she drank her tea. Hammer had quietly re-entered the room, but seemed disinclined to make the fact obvious. Rooster was quietly making sure that no one else attempted to interfere with the espresso machine, while Terrance gazed longingly at it.

Shard huffed and examined her handywork. Once she was satisfied that the durasteel blade was the proper oiled sheen, the scout trooper picked up a second blade from her desk. She weighed their balance, then nodded once to herself, before flinging the knife end over end to embed itself into the wall of “helpful memos” Scrubsey had put up a few days ago. The Secretary gave a slight hmph of indignation, but didn’t say anything

“No projectiles in the Office.” Sarge said tonelessly, not bothering to look up from his paper, “Real, Nerf, or whatever.”

“10-4, sir!” she replied, then immediately threw the other knife. Sarge looked up this time, though she could tell by his squint he was more bothered by the snarky reply than the rule breaking.

Shard got up and walked over to the board to retrieve her blades. As she pried the blades loose from the corkboard, her eye caught on a particular memo that she must have missed before.

“Scrubsey? Why does this memo say we'll have to start leaving our desk drawers unlocked at the end of the day?”

“Hmm?” the Secretary walked over to see what Shard meant, “Oh! It’s a new accountability thing! Me or Sarge has to check through people’s drawers at the end of the day, make sure no one’s storing anything dangerous in there y’know? It was put in the suggestion box a couple weeks back, I think by Saint or someone?”

“Right, thanks. I should probably uh… organize my workspace then.” Shard said, and made her way back towards her station as smoothly as possible.

[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.”

[Trixie]

“Bah. Leave him alone. If large manly pictures of Palpatine set off his detonators, more power to him! Personally, I like busty blondes.” Fuse laughed and made fingers guns towards Grumps. “Grumps knows. That one movie! Busty Blondes and Booty Bombs! Gorgeous women creating and detonating explosives. What's not to like!?”

Sarge sank his face into a palm. Before he could say anything, Granny had struck Fuse with a frying pan from the break room counter and sent him to his knees.

“Filthy, filthy!” She said, wiggling an index finger back and forth.

“10-4 Ma’am. Just don’t hit me again with that.” Fuse held his head both hands.

Cast iron flatware hurt worse than a concussion grenade exploding in his face. The explosives specialist got to his feet and took one of the many flasks on his person out from it’s hiding place and unscrewed the top before taking a long swig on the liquor inside.

“Really? It’s not even noon yet, Fuse.” Scrubsey said, pulling out a form from her convenient carrying case. “Fill this out.”

“What for!?” Fuse said dejectedly. He hated paperwork.

“For blowing up the water cooler!” The secretary shot back.

With a sigh the Clone Trooper took another swig of his flask before his eyes lit up.

“Yo, Rampage! I completely forgot. Those grenade modifications you wanted came in from Supply today. They’re down in the lab whenever you’re ready to test them out.” Fuse said with excitement as he walked over to his fellow comrade.

“Wait! No…what modifications?” Sarge said, suddenly interested in this conversation.

Hammer hiccupped nervously at the thought of both Fuse and Rampage being involved in something explosive.

“Please no.” Rooster said, resting his palm on his forehead.

[The Borg]

By precinct standards, this morning was pretty normal.

They’d only lost a few small appliances, scarred a brand new corkboard, and dented a few pieces of cookware. Scrubsey would have her work cut out for her handling the replacement requisition forms, but Sarge knew that the strange little woman enjoy the work.

The noncom glanced over to their civilian administrator and furrowed his brow. She had some kind of strange… gleeful look on her face. Perhaps enjoys it too much? Sarge shuddered at the thought of Scrubsey lugging home paperwork to fill out in her bed once the precinct closed down for the day.

Bee-boop!

At the sound of the notification, everyone in the office stopped their tomfoolery and glanced over to Sarge.

The bald noncom scowled as he picked up his reading glasses. Clicking the button, he skimmed the contents and mumbled along, despite the fact that he had all eyes and ears on him. When he finished, he nodded his head, removed his spectacles, and reached under his desk for his helmet.

“Go time: 0900 hours. Homebrew terrorists down on T3 are supposed to hit a bank. You know the drill.”

The reaction was always a blend of joy, annoyance, and grief. Some people loved this part of their job, while others saw it as a nuisance that paid their bills.

For his part, Sarge didn’t like risking his life in the field. Not that he was bad at it—his history of military commendations was just the tip of the iceberg in a career of justice and order—he just had different priorities now than he did in his twenties. Glancing to the picture of his wife and three daughters, he reached out to touch their hearts with his fingertips, as he did before every live mission.

“Let’s bring the Empire Justice, boys and girls!” He roared, eliciting a chorus of whoops and hollers.

Everyone loved a firefight.

[Zack Fair]

The hangar was full of all sorts of pristine Imperial ships of various shapes and sizes, though Rooster was firm in his belief that they were only for showing off and looking flashy around Tier One instead of any actual use. A ship that saw real action was bound to have more dings and scratches than anything else in the showroom. Of course, he would be the first to admit that he was probably a little bit biased due to the fact that their ship was a lot rougher around the edges than anything else parked on the Sulaco.

Scrubsey had acquired a YT-1930M for the group after navigating a small maze of politics and paperwork. Most of the squad had been unaware that they made miniature versions of the popular YT series of ships, but it turned out to be a blessing for navigating it through some of Coruscants lower levels, which was where most of their action took place anyway. To say the ship hadn’t been in the best shape when they got it was a massive understatement. A thorough walk through by Sarge, Rooster, and some of the others with higher stake in the team’s means of transporting equipment and personnel had concluded that the upholstery on the back right seat in the cockpit was adequate. That was the only good thing they could say about the ship at the time. They had been promised the best, but all of that good favor had been burned on high end personal equipment.

Since then it had become Rooster’s pet project, because damn if they were going to get him to do much else. Sarge hadn’t been thrilled about pairing the team’s engineer, fresh faced Dan, with the constantly grumbling Rooster but it had been a good match in order to get the ship up to speed. The most noticeable flaw had been the lack of a turret on the topside. The squad was lacking a prime friend to summon one up and Scrubsey hit a standstill trying to requisition a new one, but with input from a few of the other members they had turned it into an raising platform to allow a stormtrooper to stand in the open air with decent cover to whatever weaponry was on hand. It sounded underpowered in theory, but between Rampage, Fuse, and Hammer, it had become far more versatile than when it had been a simple gun placement. A few more minor modifications had been taken care of to make the ship worthy of battle.

Rooster was the craft’s designated pilot, so he slid into the main seat and removed his helmet, setting it aside for the time being. He was supposed to have it on at all times while on assignment, but he preferred full visibility while flying. Sarge was typically fine with this arrangement, so long as the job got done. Besides, Rooster was known to fly in jeans from time to time, so partial uniform was enough of a win for his superior.

Sarge took one of the cockpit’s seats behind him so he could have easy access to the coms while they traveled, while Scrubsey took the other seat, for whatever reason she was here. The three of them could hear the rest of the squad milling about down the hall, getting their gear ready and hyping themselves up for the mission at hand. Their pregame routines could get as volatile as the squad’s downtime, but Rooster trusted himself to land the ship if things turned catastrophic. That was all he needed to worry about, because he sure wasn’t paying for any of the repairs himself.

With that comfort in mind, he guided the controls and the ship lurched forward. They were on the way to their mission.

The team's ships' floorplan for reference.
[spoiler][/spoiler]

[Éowyn]

Shard stood with the rest of the crew in the YT-1930M’s lounge, her headphones in and blaring a harsh metal as she stood waiting for the go ahead. One hand idly traced the scar along her face as she waited, it always itched before a rough mission. Most of the squad was there, Hammer and Rampage were engaged in a game of Dejarik at the table nearby, while Fuse mocked each of them in turn for their mis-plays. Grumps lounged with another "book" while Granny and Saint looked over schematics of the building in question. Dan was standing nearby, constantly checking and rechecking his weapon like he couldn’t comprehend that it was actually loaded.

Rookies.

“Hey! Cut it out!” She snapped, causing Dan to jump slightly and glance her direction, “If you freeze up out there It won’t matter whether you checked your rifle ten times or fifteen. Those rebels will put one straight through your visor without a second thought either way.” the Academy freshie didn’t reply, but Grumps got up with a sigh.

“Here now, leave him alone Shard! You trying to scare the lad’s not gonna help anything.” The old medic said gruffly.

“And if he or Saint gets me shot out there, it’s not a good idea to bring them! They don’t teach you half of what you need in the Academy!” she shot back, taking her earbuds out to better hear the argument.

“Actually, I think that the academy does a great job of…” Saint spoke up, but a deathly stare from Shard broke his rebuttal before he got any further. Their comms started to fill with encrypted chatter, and Granny put her hand to her headset.

“Oh dear! Shard, you had better go and tell Sarge that there’s new intel from headquarters, high priority, encrypted channel Gamma.” The tone sounded urgent and so Shard left, knowing that she was also being sent to keep the argument from getting out of control. She stormed into the cockpit in the mood to punch something, returning Scrubsey’s blissful smile with a glower.

“Sarge, we got new intel, channel Gamma. Also, Grumps is an old fart.” She said with clipped brevity.

“Noted.” Sarge said with a sigh, then tuned his headset to the requisite channel. He listed for a moment, then cursed. “Set us down two blocks from the bank, Rooster.” He barked, suddenly ignited with purpose, “Scrubsey make sure to clear HQ with demolitions, we might need them, and have them send some backup while you’re at it.”  He flicked on the PA system to broadcast to the whole crew.

“Intel was bad, gang. They hit the bank at 0800. Reports say their trying to drill into the vault, and it sounds like they’re preparing to hold the building. We’ve also got unconfirmed reports they’ve got hostages on the second floor. Saint, I need a report of entries and exits along with an estimate of their numbers. They think they can hold this place, what will they have to play with? Dan, you and Eyes work on jamming their Comms, they get no outside help, got that? Fuse, you and Rampage are going to need to prep for going in Hot.” He glanced out the window for a moment before continuing, “this is NOT permission to open fire yet. Shard and Hammer are going to get us intel and secure the hostages. Until we have them cleared you are not to engage, understood? We’re playing this one Cold to start”

He flicked off the system before Rampage’s complaining could start and turned to Shard.

“This just got a lot more delicate. Hammer will be in place to give you support once you find where they're keeping the civies, but you’re going to need to confirm the hostages safe before Terrence and Fuse can move in. We’re bringing the Emperors’s justice to those terrorists, but civies don’t deserve to die if it can be helped.” Shard snapped a salute.

“I’ll get them out or die trying sir.” She replied matter-of-factly.

“10-4 then, Shard. Prepare for Recon-drop.” Sarge answered, and turned back to the schematics on his screen.

[Trixie]

Going in hot meant that Fuse had to strap his kitbag to his back and wear his dual holster for ‘Breach & Clear’, his two modified DC-15S Blaster Carbines. It meant that his basic rifleman training was going to be useful on this mission along with his extensive knowledge of explosive hardware. As Rooster navigated their way down to Tier 3, the orange armored Clone Trooper was in the back with Terrence equipping themselves for a firefight.

“There’s a really good bar right down the street from this bank. The Lighter Touch. It’s a lesbian gay bar, but they have the best selection of…whiskey.”

“Right. You go in there for the whiskey, I’m sure.” Terrence said with a grin, loading an energy cell into one of his many heavy weapons.

“Yes. I do!” Fuse said, unscrewing a flask he had pulled from his person, taking a long swig.

“What did they make you out of, Fuse? Jeez.” Rampage remarked as he watched their explosives expert empty the flask in one drink.

With a burp Fuse smiled, “Whiskey and poor choices. Do you think six bricks of plastique is too much?”

“Six!?” Granny said, entering the assembly area to grab whatever she may have needed.

“Oh! Granny! Tell Scrubsey that I molded one of the bricks to look like a duck!” Fuse said as he slid on his helmet, rotating the lock at the bottom, securing it to his armor.

Giving her the thumbs up sign, the explosives expert was ready to kill terrorist scum.