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Blaster fire soars through the dense forest. A man grunts as he launches himself over a fallen tree, landing on the spongy ground with a muffled squish.
Behind him, a large explosion sounds off.
“You think the Seppies heard that?” A voice snickers through his commlink, and the armored man sighs tiredly.
“We better hope so, otherwise this won’t work.”
“Oh, don’t get yourself in such a mood!” The feminine voice whines, before bursting into laughter.
He grunts, eyes flickering below his helmet to the trees, “Just don’t give your position away, V.”
“Like I would ever!”
The armored man charges through the woods, leaping over rocks and other objects that stand in his way. His breath is fast, coming to be tired from the fast-paced sprint and the burden of his armor weighing him down.
Luckily, Mandalorians are trained in a way to withstand these factors.
The march of battle droids causes him to hug behind a tree with a trunk twice as wide as his body, huddling down amongst the roots. His hand rests on the blaster on his hip, casting a glance behind them as a small platoon marches towards the source of disturbance. The droids are having a tough time getting through the brush, although the tank at the front mows down most of the growth.
He curses, noticing that this force is hardly a fraction of who would be guarding the detainment facility.
“Cross, they didn’t take the bait.” His partner notes nonchalantly.
“I can see that Venus!”
The mandalorian continues to search his way through the forest, finding the path he and his fellow fighter took earlier. The leaves are thick on either side, slapping his armor as he passes, spraying the red markings with water droplets. Above him, the flash of white, purple, and green armor dancing in the treetops follows him. He can make out the outline of a sniper blaster strapped to the figure’s hip.
A root nudges his boot, a small reminder to keep his focus on the trail. The gradient of the ground increases, till he reaches the top of the hill, where he drops to his chest. The mud gives him further camouflage, but the moisture seeping through is less than pleasurable. A bead of sweat dribbles down his forehead. This had to be done perfectly.
The Jedi counsel had hired him and Venus for a rescue mission a couple days back. They had offered a good pay for getting it done, and Cross had snatched up the opportunity for a decent mission. With the Republic and Separatists in constant battle, and Mandalore in turmoil, the duo had it hard when looking for work. Cross had been relieved at the prospect of an easy rescue mission concerning some detained Jedi knight and their company of clones. Venus had been less thrilled, voicing how she wanted a tougher mission.
Seems like she got her wish.
The two hadn’t been part of a Mandalorian faction for a long while, although Death Watch had offered them both positions. Both Death Watch and the pacifists now in control of Mandalore had been radicals in their eyes. Neither wanted to join a larger group and so they stayed together, a fearsome duo of mercenaries willing to work for the right pay.
A whistle slices through the silence, resembling the call of a bird. Cross knows better than the oblivious B-2 droids guarding the entrance to the tunnels, as Venus’s trademark battle call had been heard by him multiple times. His helmet turns towards her, his visor zooming onto her armor. She gives a cheeky wave, sniper out on her knee.
“Are we going in?”
“There’s only three droids. Something’s wrong.” He mutters, checking his gear in a way to calm himself.
Venus tsk’s to him, “My, my, getting cold feet, are we?”
“V…” He growls a warning.
A small huff is heard from over the comms, “Fine. Waiting for your signal.”
The red and dark gray armor shifts as he shimmies forward, scoping out the lay of the land one last time. It’s been cleared, and relatively flat once he reaches the base of the hill, before around a ten meter dash to the door. There he can see the control console he would have to hack into.
Then, the B-2 droids glance to the side at a rustle in the bushes, and Cross springs out from hiding. The jetpack on his back fires to life, with so much fuel flooding to the engines that he shoots across the field like a rocket, hovering in the air above them. He manages to blast the first one before he tucks into a roll against the ground to evade the blaster shots.
A loud twang rings out, before two gold bullets rip through the last two, a second spaced about between both of them. The pair of droids fall to the ground just as the second Mandalorian comes jogging up to meet him. Her beskar armor is painted white, with green and purple markings. A pair of wings cross her chestplate, with two eyes on the top of her helmet.
“You were supposed to stay in your position!” Cross exclaims, but he focuses on the control console.
Venus shrugs, and he can imagine her smug grin, “And let you have all the fun down there? No way.”
“You’re shitty with close combat and you know it.” He fires back, mood souring with his lack of luck.
“Actually, I find myself better than you.” The woman peers over his shoulder, “You having trouble there, love?”
“I’m just fine, thank you!” He snaps back.
In a flurry of anger, he punches the pad, and then the door slides open, Venus snorting in amusement at the cliche moment. Cross sighs heavily, before entering the compound with his partner hot on his heels. The door hisses as it closes as it leaves the duo in darkness, only being lit by the red alarms.
The two mandalorians creep down the halls, the lack of guards disturbing. At some point, Venus sneaks ahead of him, using the hologram of a map to search for the cells.
“There’s no one here.” Cross notes the obvious, “If I thought the plan was going wrong before, I was wrong.”
Venus hums, still fixated on the map, “Just keep your sensors on. The stockade isn’t far from where we are.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“When have you ever liked a mission?” She chuckles, tossing her helmet over to look at him, “I say that the missing guards are a blessing! If this turns out to be a trap, we’ll just have more tin-cans all huddled together for an ass-kicking.”
“I still don’t understand how you see this as a ‘fun’ mission.” Cross grumbles, stepping out in front of another empty hallway with his blaster drawn.
Again, no one shows.
Venus laughs, before she strides ahead fluidly. Cross grunts at her antics. He knows the tall woman as well as himself, and just how unrestrained she truly is. With enough war crimes under her belt to rival that of the legendary Anakin Skywalker, he’s the last bit of caution she has.
However, Cross knows even though her actions are rash and uncontrolled, she’d never put him or innocents at risk. No matter how amusing the prospect of sabotage may seem, the life of friends came above the death of enemies.
Venus shouts suddenly, before her tone turns to that of excitement, “Droidekas!”
“Ah, shit!”
Two come rolling from behind, and two in the front, boxing the two mandalorians in. Back to back, they stand off the droids, knowing full well that their armor could only take so much from these fiends.
“Plan?”
“I thought you wanted droids to give an “ass-kicking”.” Cross sasses.
“Yeah, well not rollies. I hate rollies.” She grumbles.
The four droids open fire without warning, and Cross activates his own shield on his wrist, his a glowing yellow, grunting as the powerful blasts ram against him. Venus, having no such mod, is quick to grapple away, swinging up and over the two droids on her side.
“Let’s go! Cells are this way!” She calls out, already sprinting away.
Cross snarls in agitation, before following her with a quick boost of his jetpack, leaping above the two droids. They have to shuffle around to get aim again, but by that time, he’s already gone.
It takes a moment for Cross to catch up with Venus again. The female mandalorian has less armor, and therefore made her faster, and so she deliberately slows so he can keep stride with her.
“They’re going to catch up to us again real soon.” She chirps, glancing down at the holo-map again.
“I know that. I’m trying to think, give me a klik.” He grunts, checking his belts.
Something catches his eye. A thermal detonator.
“Is there another way out of here?”
“Eh? Yeah, why?”
“Because we’re not going to be able to come out the same way.”
Venus takes a moment to understand his implication, “Oh, I see. Smart.”
And so, the duo take their positions alongside a junction where four corridors meet, hiding behind the wall, with Cross’s only two detonators placed on either side of the main hallway. The rolling of the droidekas are loud enough to hear for a while.
Cross glances to Venus who nods in preparation. Then, they jump out from their defense, Cross drawing the droidekas’ attention with his blaster. The droids unfurl to reach their blasters, but his hand is faster, activating the detonators before they can open fire.
The explosion rocks the inside of the tunnels, before the center one caves in, knocking the two off their feet. Venus is the first back on her feet, protectively hovering over Cross until he regains his bearings.
“Are you okay?” The wing-decorated mando questions.
“Peachy.” Cross accepts her offered hand to pull himself up, “Now, where are those cells?”
“Right over here.” She states proudly.
Sure enough, the route they had taken had dropped them off directly in front of the holding block, the walls lined with red plasma doors. Guarding them is a small group of B-1’s and Commandos. Venus visibly perks up.
“Finally!”
“Shit!”
The duo part ways instantly, both taking cover behind the crannies and nooks next to the cells, focusing on taking down each and every droid. Venus’s signature twang erupts from her sniper as she takes each one down with precision, considerably slower than Cross’s fast shots. However, the long period of time frustrates him, knowing these droids would have called for backup.
Glancing over to Venus, he screams through the comms, “Cover me!”
The woman gives little sign of acknowledgement, except an almost indistinguishable nod of her head. That gives Cross the courage to leap out of his hiding spot, shield out and covering his weak points. Bullets ram into his armor, slowing him, but not halting his advance.
Sliding under a B-1 droid that Venus offlines, Cross reaches for his classic weapon: The flamethrower. While Venus is known for her deadly precision, Cross had made his name known through his home-built flamethrower. Even if he didn’t use it often, he had trained in its art and how to use it.
Blinding flames, so hot that they flicker to an azure shade at times, pour out of his wrist. Short bursts are enough to dismantle the B-1’s in his sight. Fiddling with the dial, he lowers the heat and the accuracy, creating a wider arc of scarlett flames that lick at the robot’s frames.
Their screams are satisfying to him, knowing that now they are the ones suffering. The searing fire is shut off abruptly as he charges at the closest droid, slamming his fist into it hard enough for its face to shatter. Ignoring the pain blooming in his fist, he shakes it off, glancing around the room. Triumphantly, he grins, standing on the droid’s chassis in a show of victory.
A final blast from Venus’s sniper gun signifies the end of the skirmish. The two mandalorians recollect themselves, prepping their weapons and fixing their armor.
That’s when they become aware of the multitude of similar faces staring out at them.
“Ah, shit, did the Jedi mention these clones?” Cross mutters quietly to his partner.
Venus shrugs, “Jedi and their clones are always found together. I expected such things.”
“Your thoughts?”
“Well, I say we free them. It’s not right to keep them locked away and only rescue their general.” Venus tsk’s at the thought, “We should give them a chance.”
“Incredible. That’s the first logical thing to come out of your mouth this entire cycle!”
“Oh, shut up.”
The two move to each individual cell, opening them to release the men inside. Most have been completely stripped of their armor, other than a few who have their leg plating still on. They mill about, checking their brothers and eyeing the strange mandalorians cautiously. In total, around twenty-eight men are released, all the same and yet incredibly different.
The duo meet up again, scanning the group of soldiers. So far, the Jedi knight does not appear, leaving their men without their general. Venus nudges Cross, gesturing to the crowd, who’s begun to pick up the fallen blasters of the droids.
“Right, uh. Who’s in charge here?” The warrior steps forward.
The clones glance around, before one steps forward, similar to his brothers, except for the scales tattooed over one cheek bone. His eyes have been genetically modified to be bright green, a process Cross doesn’t want to understand.
“I’m CT-32-9221, or Grim.” He introduces himself, “Captain of Phoenix Company.”
“Captain Grim. Where’s your Jedi?”
He glances behind him to his men, “Dead. They got tortured for information. Never made it back.”
“Kriff.” Venus snarls from behind Cross.
“Who are you two?” Grim observes them with scrutiny, “I didn’t think we were classified for a rescue.”
Venus steps up to inform the captain, less threatened by the multiple men than her partner, “We were hired to find your General. However, seeing as they’re gone, we may as well bring you and your men back safely.”
“I find that suspicious. We are clones, in case you’re blind, Mando.” The captain scoffs.
Her brow twitches, arms crossed tightly, “I can see just fine, Captain. But my words still stand. Do you have a problem with the fact we’re saving your asses?”
“We are wary of such a thing. Are you doing this just for the credits? Perhaps the flankers have something to do with this.”
“Honestly, yep, credits are nice. Sometimes I take pleasure in these jobs, but from the way you’re acting, the credits are looking more promising than the nonexistent gratitude.”
Cross can tell Venus is near to snapping from the way she bristles, hands hovering close to her less used weapons: hand-held sharp talons. To help his temperamental friend from bursting, he places a hand on her shoulder, which quickly calms the woman.
“Sorry. Venus here doesn’t like the mention of credits in that format. It’d be best to steer away from that subject.” He apologizes, something surprising for the intimidating mandalorian, “We need to leave here, so if there are any more complaints, I’ll hear them now.”
Venus huffs, her helmet tilting down in frustration at the stubbornness of the men. Cross sends her a look through his helmet, and she shrugs, raising her sniper blaster over her shoulder.
Over their personal comms, Cross takes initiative, “V, you have to work with these guys.”
“We just saved ‘em, and yet they’re pointing fingers.”
“You have to understand they thought they were dead before we showed up. They probably would’ve been executed if the Seppies couldn’t get information out of them. Morale is low.” Cross notes, scanning the group again.
“We’ve been in lower places, but I wouldn’t be so hostile to our rescuers!” The winged mandalorian protests.
He raises a brow, “Really? You once threatened to bite the knees of a man who saved me.”
“...That was one time.”
Cross chuckles, his partner snickering along at the memory. Unfortunately, the moment is ruined by the group of clones banding together, preparing to move out. Cross splutters, moving to intercept them with a brisk pace.
“Hey! Where are you going?!” He exclaims incredulously, “There are probably more droids on their way!”
“Exactly why we are leaving. Stick around if you want, but my men and I will take our chances.” Grim explains gruffly.
“You have no idea where to go. This place is a maze, but Venus here has the place mapped out.” Cross hesitates before saying the next bit, “You may be a commander, but I’m in charge of this mission.”
Grim freezes, and the mandalorian spots the clone’s grip on the blaster tighten. Cross weighs the chances of him attacking the two mandalorians, but he doesn’t find the probability being high. So when Venus steps forward with a warning hum, he holds a hand out to tell the sniper to stand down.
“Very well. Until we return to Kamino we’ll follow your lead, to rational lengths.” The commander is obviously displeased with the situation, but steps aside for him.
“That’s all I ask.”
With a nod to Venus, he allows the female mandalorian to take the lead. With a brisk pace, she leads the group down the hallway, holomap bobbing on her wrist.
“V will lead us to the supply storage room. We can find your armor there and more weapons. We’ll probably have to fight our way out.” Cross murmurs, striding alongside Grim.
The mandalorian doesn’t want the clone to become any more aggressive. The death of his General could be affecting him badly, or perhaps he had simply been created that way. Either way, viewing him as an equal might just appease him.
Grim scoffs, a faint smirk on his lips, “My men are tougher than you think. We may have been stuck here for a couple weeks, but we’re tougher than you mandos would like to believe.”
“I hope you know I mean no offense. I’m just trying to get you out of here in one piece.” He replies, watching the other’s brow knit in concentration and pain, “Are you alright?”
Grim snarls in response, “Fine. Clankers thought it would be fun to cut the bottom of my feet during a little meet-and-greet.”
“Will you be able to make it?”
“Drop the subject.” He hisses, “Now.”
Cross sighs, managing to keep his placid mannerisms. Unlike his sharp-eyed partner, his emotions are kept in check, perhaps to the point of suppression. The orange of his visor flashes as he lifts his head, cranning it to search for his fellow mandalorian. She’s at the head of the pack, making sure the path is clear for the unarmored men. As if feeling him through the Force, she glances back to meet his gaze.
They’ve gone through many missions similar to this one. They’d developed this formation for peak efficiency, with the two mandalorians creating the armored shield on either side to protect the rescued people. Venus, with her superior navigating abilities, leads the group, as well as scouting for potential threats. Cross brings up the rear with his strong armor, defending them from ambushes and providing the muscles for attacks.
It doesn’t take long for her to locate the room, opening the door for the clones. Venus and Cross take positions along the entrance way, casting a glance to Grim as he follows his men inside.
Venus can’t figure out just why she’s so irritated. She can see Cross’s concern from the corner of her visor, the helmet tilted in a subtle gesture. With a grunt, she manages to elbow him with a step closer, where his armor doesn’t protect his padding.
Shortly after, a flash of white draws her attention back to the door, where a clone wearing unmarked armor walks towards them. Cross shoots Venus a cheeky glance, and she can hear his snickers as he walks into the storage room.
“Get back here-” The sniper protests.
“You need to learn to get along with someone other than me. Try and talk to that Shiny.”
Venus grumbles as her partner walks away, and she eyes the single clone distastefully. She’s never had anything against them. In fact, she regarded them with respect in their bravery and comradery. After all, the man to donate his DNA had been a mandalorian too.
The clone before her is very obviously fresh out of Kamino, as new as the armor covering him. He must be only twenty in years, younger than Venus. His posture is stiff, an obvious sign of nervousness, blaster clutched in a tight grip and pointed down the hallway.
With a moment of hesitation, she speaks up with a stern voice, “You okay kid?”
“I’m not a kid.” He retorts, admittingly surprised by the conversation.
“Sorry.” She mumbles, “This your first mission?”
“It is.”
“Well, you’re handling it better than most. What’s your name?”
“CT-4838, but my squadmates called me Aqua…” He introduces himself, pride in his name.
Venus nods, “Aqua. Name’s Venus. Where’s your squad?”
“Gone, like our general.”
“Oh.”
The silence that follows is heavy and awkward, the mandalorian wondering just how to keep the conversation going. The clone stiffens as well, casting her a guilty glance at her lack of response.
“Sorry Mando. I didn’t mean to make the situation even more tense.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
“No, no, It’s fine. I understand you men have been through a lot. I’m sorry for your loss.” Venus pats his shoulder, the only form of comfort she could think the soldier would understand.
Aqua chuckles, “We were trained for this kind of stuff, but it never makes it easier.”
“Training never can truly prepare you for war. But the fact you’ve survived means you’re one of the tougher men protecting the Republic.” The words of consolement fly off her tongue faster than she can register them, “I can’t promise your safety as we get you out, but I’ll stick by your side if you’d like.”
Perhaps she only knows what to say as they are the words she craved to hear. Better now than never.
“Yeah, sure. I think having a mandalorian watching my back would be nice.” He comments, helmet tilted up in thought.
She smiles under her own, “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two. Those Kaminoans are shitty teachers.”
“They got me this far, haven’t they?”
“True. Still…” Venus nudges his arm, “How would you like to be a sniper?”
“Are you offering classes?” The clone seems genuinely shocked at the proposal.
“If we survive this whole mess, sure. You may be around my partner and I long enough for me to show you a thing or two. When else will you get a chance like this?”
Aqua eyes the sniper blaster folded up and attached to her belt, “Tempting. Mandalorian lessons. Ah, the entire platoon will be so jealous, too.”
“So?”
“Yeah, sure, why the hell not?”
The two clap their hands together in a crude shake, as if sealing the deal. Aqua is grinning wildly under his helmet, practically brimming with excitement, and the woman chuckles at this. He’s too young for this. Innocence might have been quickly erased from him, but he still has that childish hope.
Still, it makes Venus satisfied she’s managed to instill that in him again.
The sound of approaching footsteps draws the mandalorian’s attention back inside the storage room. Cross and Grim, side by side, stride out of the room, both tense as if a strained conversation had happened between the two of them. Venus raises a brow, fighting back the smirk and rising curiosity. Beside her, Aqua straightens to attention.
“Alright, we need to go now. I don’t know why the Seppies haven’t shown up yet, but I doubt the reason’s in our favor.” Cross instructs, voice loud enough to carry to the back of the group, “Our ship will meet us at the end of this tunnel. Venus, I want you to maintain communications with our pilot at all costs.”
The mentioned woman salutes, albeit a bit sarcastically, before fiddling with her holo-wristlet. An antenna slides up out of her helmet, and she hums as it finds a signal.
“Okay, I’m locked on.”
Cross only hesitates a moment before turning towards the hallway, “Let’s roll out then!”