> Outer Rim
> Gaulus Sector
> Ryloth System: Ryloth

In the atmosphere above Ryloth, a trio of Imperial Dropship Transports descended towards the planet's surface. Each of the dropships' wings were proudly emblazoned with the Imperial Crest, along with the Unit insignia of the 121st Assault Battalion, A stormtrooper helmet with wings flanking either side. The inside of the IDTs shook occasionally, causing its cargo to buckle and bob as it flew through the rough turbulence above Ryloth. Each IDTs cargo, in this setting, was a squad of Stormtroopers, along with their support gear, and extra ammunition and rations for extended deployment.

Inside of the lead transport stood the 2nd squad of the 1st platoon of Bravo company- referred to as Bravo-one-two for convenience. This was the squad's fifth mission in the last week, the previous missions being simple milk-runs. A couple of insurgents in a village, native's shooting at a supply convoy. Nothing that couldn't be easily put down with a small application of force- blaster fire and an occasional thermal detonator, from the Emperor's finest. The missions were simple, inconsequential at best, but when command wanted a rowdy group of natives stomped on, Bravo company was usually the ones sent to oblige.

The nine troopers of B-1-2 lounged around the interior of their transport, some stood, holding onto hand guards to keep themselves steady, others sat on half-full crates of supplies and ammunition. Helmets were off, and conversation was being had. They were still several minutes off from their destination, so there was a little bit more time to get their last laughs and gear checks in.

Sergeant Lewis Blake, better known by the rest of the squad as "Blues" or occasionally "Sarge" and "SL" sat on a crater of ammunition at the center wall, closest to the cockpit. Eyes narrowed, quietly scanning the compartment of the transport. He yawned, he was tired. With luck, this mission would be as simple as the others, and they'd get back on the transport and back up to base by the end of the night. He checked the time on his commlink. They had 10 minutes before the drop zone. He'd let the squad get their last hurrahs in before he called them together and got geared up.

Not that he really needed to, their today mission was just like the last two, checking out rumors of a insurgency brewing in the city of Kala'din, one of the major cites on Ryloth. Kala'din was a hotbed for rumors of insurgency, like most cities on Ryloth, it was built into a large mountain. However, unlike other major cities, a rather large portion of Kala'din had spilled out into the flatlands at the base of the mountain. This area was equivalent to slum and sprawl housing, densely populated, but mostly by poor Twi'leks and the occasional human.

If this mission was anything like the last two, they would find the "insurgents", a handful of disgruntled, malnourished primitives, who got their hands on a couple of simple hand blasters. They'd shoot one or two, make an example of another, and the rest would surrender and be taken in for processing.

Looking up, Blake noticed a plaque one of the squad members had erected on the wall of their transport. It read "Days without incident: 7" He let out a soft exhale of breath- his equivalent of a chuckle. He hadn't noticed that before today. Regulation dictated that Blake should locate the trooper who defaced Imperial property and have them properly punished in front of the squad, but this was the Outer Rim, and there were very few troopers who adhered exactly to Imperial Regulations.

Triple Nine wasn't sitting like most of the rooks, the term "shiny" didn't really apply anymore. He was standing, arm hanging onto the railing, rifle held across his torso with it's strap and his right hand holding onto the trigger. He hated these warm planets, Ryloth had to be one of the worst. Yeah sure there weren't bugs like Geonosis or two suns like Tattooine but it was still hot. With the added fact that there would occasionally be fire storms it wasn't exactly a nice place too be, and last time he was here the separatists tried to make a monster eat him.

That didn't make the memories any better. He let go off the handle, feeling the stubble on his face. Kind of missing the beard but Imperial Regulations prohibited facial hair, at least he wasn't competing for the same face anymore. Everyone was different, completely different. That was one thing he didn't like about the corps. A clone army had quick thinkers, capable of independent thinking but also of working in unison. Able to guess what the guy next to you was about to do and reacting to it. Sure there were exceptions but they often made it to arc trooper. No, the corps was disorganized. Everyone had their own agenda. He let out a sigh, though there was nothing he could do about that now.

He took a couple of magnetic strips out of his pocket and moved over to the makeshift sign that read Days without incident and changed the number to an eight. He moved back to his original position, pulling his helmet over the face. Hearing it hiss slightly as it sealed. He flicked his tongue over the microphone activation stud checking it worked, and then began pulled out his pistols, giving them the once over.

"Remember, this isn't Felucia." Norman muttered this under his breath to himself as he finished packing his bandolier with extra ammo for his non-standard rifle. That was the downside he supposed to keeping the DLT-20. He couldn't simply pick up the dead rookie's ammo. Well not that any had died in awhile. On Felucia things were... different to here. The natives actually had the sense to surrender and the rookie's lasted longer than a day. He exhaled sharply at the idea of how different this outfit was. No constant stream of troops, non-fluid squad setups, and most of all food. He stopped for a second before putting his bandolier around himself. He remembered the taste and the texture of that fungus they were forced to eat. It made him gag and he continued with resting the top of the bandolier on his free shoulder and placing the bottom at his other hip. The transport shook which sent Norman's hand out infront of him to steady himself.

He grabbed the blaster rifle firmly and felt magnatomic adhesion grip return to his hand. He sometimes wondered who the detached hand was of that he pulled the rifle from. Maybe it was an officer, a marksmen, or even a clone. Raising himself from the ground with his free hand he brought it to the mag release and checked it twice just to make sure the cartridge would drop if he found himself in a suppressing situation. That happened quite a bit when the B1 groups showed up. Most of them would just march straight into their field of fire, he would often lose count of how many shots they put down range when they showed up. After quickly checking the sight he raised his hand up above him and grabbed the hand holds coming down from the ceiling. It only took him a moment to realize that he had forgot something. The new helmet they had given him when he joined the squad. His old one had the visor smashed out and a deep scar in it, nerf herding natives using primitive weapons.

He crouched back down and with his free hand grabbed the helmet by the chin and brought it down over his head. He made sure to not touch the mic with his chin as he brought it down. He set it on then lightly hit the top of the helmet with his closed fist to make sure it formed a proper seal. This place wasn't Felucia hot but it was still hellish. After standing back up again he regripped the hand holds dangling from the ceiling and noticed the clone changing the days without incident number.

"You should change that to days without dead greenies. Better metric." Norman said over the comms. After he undepressed the comm button and then chuckled slightly to himself in his helmet.

“Might be kind of bad for morale,” Myrinda interjected dryly. She sat in a relaxed slump with the harnesses securing her to the bulkhead. Her helmet sat on the jumpseat next to her allowing her to run her fingers through her short red hair. Cool air was to be savored, in a few minutes she would be sealed in a suit on a planet who’s natives would happily vacation in hell for a chance to cool off.

She was calm, as she always was in such situations. It wasn’t that she wasn’t scared. She was plenty scared, but demolitions training instilled an almost automatic sense of calm. Her stomach might turn flips but her hands wouldn’t shake. It was an open question as to whether or not Blues considered her a greenie. She was new to the outfit sure, but she had seen action before. Her eyes drifted to Winoda, the farm boy was the only true greenie here at the moment, testament to rebel snipers and this being the command shuttle. There was no question as to whether the bossman considered her green. In the clones eyes, she supposed everyone was. The Sith knew what he thought of women in uniform.

The chrono clicked down another instrument and she checked her gear reflexively. A few more minutes and she would have to seal her helmet.

The markswoman sat in silence in the Imperial dropship, a recent memory occupying her thoughts, a particular flashback of one of her many kills. The sight of a dead foe, something she had seen hundreds if not thousands of times before, but the one in particular her mind seemed to be fixated on was different, to a less hardened Stormtrooper it might have shaken, but she wasn't affected by it.

A boy, no older than fifteen, dead in a heap of cold flesh and bone, a cheap rifle next to him, a chunk of his skull missing from where her blaster bolt had hit target, killing him on impact. Dead eyes in an endless gaze upwards. A helmet would not have done anything to protect him from the shot, not that she wanted it to. He had chosen his side, she had done her job, he just happened to be on the other side.

"If we do it right then there won't be any dead on our side." Jaya added, her tone straight and honest like it most often was. But they weren't wrong, the newcomers were often the ones that dropped dead the quickest in the heat of battle. Her hands moved to the sniper rifle on her lap as she checked it one more time, she had all the ammunition that she needed, she wasn't concerned about her own well being on the mission.

Triple-Nine turned his head to the transfer. "Soldiers come and go, if that's bad for morale you may be in the wrong uniform." He tapped his helmet as there was some static, as he did so the air conditioning units kicked in and he was hit in the face by a blast of cool air. He closed his eyes saviouring it, these new helmets did have their advantages. Though there was something to be missed about the extra lines of sight you could see in the old phase three helmets, though the Empire did like to go for intimidation over effectiveness ever since the brand changed. The new AT-AT design was testement to that, sure it had some heavy turbolasers but compared to the AT-TE it wasn't the smartest design out there.

Though that seemed to be the mantra these days. Republic tech was typically effective, and easy to make whereas the Empire wanted to strike fear into populance. He was till loyal to the Empire and the Emperor to a fault, however he felt that some of the upper echelons could do too try out this technology and see how well it really worked. He moved over, putting his mechanical hand on the greenies shoulder ((@Sloth)) and squeezed slightly till he got a response, flicking his open mic. "How you doing greenie? Need a plastic bag?"

When you're a fresh face straight out of basic who's squad you'd barely just met a day ago has a plaque in their dropship that made it abundantly clear that the outfit most likely saw a fair amount of combat, your first instinct probably shouldn't be to let out a laugh. That'd drawn some weary glances from Private Winoda's new-found teammates, and he'd since exiled himself to the unoccupied corner of the troop bay, making sure all the systems were functioning on his helmet and extending and collapsing the stock on his E-11 even though he'd run the necessary checks more times than he could count over the last few hours.

Rian didn't pay much attention to the general banter of the First Platoon's Second Squad; he knew a scare tactic when he saw one. What, did they think he hadn't gone through hell already at the Academy? He'd show them that he belonged, he wasn't just a farmer hopped up with courage after firing a blaster for the first time, he was an authentic member of the Empire's finest. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his plastoid covered shoulder that he looked up from his helmet, which he'd been mentally preparing himself to wear for the first time on an actual assignment on an actual alien planet. It didn't help that the sight was what he'd assumed, but never had the courage to outright ask, was the squad's resident leftover from the Clone Wars.

"Hey, as long as one of them isn't me, I think I'm gonna be fine."

Rian didn't know what possessed him to think now was the time for boasting, but Emperor knew he needed to boost his confidence somehow.

Norman cracked a grin when smiles finally chimed in. "Ah, but if we do it right there will be no dead period. But... then again when was the last time that happened? The tail-heads like fighting too vaping much." Norman was simply transmitting through the outward speakers on the helmet. There wasn't much point in only talking through the comms right now anyways. He let go of the hand holds and headed to the back of the transport and opened up one of the boxes that his equipment was usually kept in. He reached in and pulled out three drop poppers and attached them to his belt. The chances of them fighting droids here or atleast any military grade ones were near non-exsistant. But it didn't matter, he couldn't let it happen again... never again. He zoned out for a moment as he closed the box and grabbed onto it as the ship rocked again. All the flying was beginning to bother Norman. He had spent nearly his entire tour on Felucia on the ground. The only time he had gotten to fly was when he came and when he left, though there were certainly less body bags on these flights.

He stood up again and began to make his way to one of the few seats on the craft. Sitting down next to Smiles knowing that it would bother her atleast a little. He sat rifle across his lap and finally letting go of the firm grip he had on it and faced the barrel the opposite way of Smiles's rifle just to make sure they didn't bump each other. "Hey boss I forgot to ask you. Were you there on Geonosis when we first invaded it?"

Myrinda kept her face strictly neutral. She had been reprimanded in the past for rolling her eyes at her superiors and she didn't care to be put on KP when she got back from this mission. Assuming of course, but then veterans always assumed they would make it back. Out of fellow feeling she winked at the newbie, they were close enough to equal rank that she felt comfortable with the gesture. It was a little bit of a misnomer to call them green. Simulations at the academy were pretty advanced, not quite the real thing of course but close. In a way she figured it was better. Soldiers got used to war as a game, troops were pieces that got moved around. Don't think of laying on the ground with your intestines blown open, just do your job, win the game.

She checked her chrono, time to button up. She pulled on her helmet and sealed it, exchanging her peripheral vison for protection, communications and optics. She started running a comms check on the squad, making sure everyone was miked up.

"Bravo two one," she spoke keying the comm net to the squad, "commo check."

"-999 copies 5 by -924." He clicked his comm mic on, rather than relaying through the external speakers. He then turned back around to Norman. "Invaded? We didn't invade. We went too liberate it, don't they teach history anymore." He shook his head, playing into the joke. "We went in to try and kick the Separatists before they had a chance to become a threat. Got caught up in some Jedi shenannigans and then went home. Though it was hell, I've read your reports and I think the closest anyone has come too that is you on Felucia Norman."

He took up his space beside the door again. Holding onto the handle to keep himself steady. The light in the room went red indicating that the ship was getting close to the drop. He piped up again, it was his job to keep the squad in line after all so that the squad lead could do his job. "Helmets on people, on your feet. Lets make a good impression." He adjusted his gun slightly, so that if shit hit the fan as soon as the door opened he could return fire. "Now listen up for your orders." He turned his head to face the Sarge, they knew what the rough mission outline was. Now was time for specifics.

Blues had his eyes closed, listening in to the conversation and various gear checks quietly until his chrono clocked 5 minutes. The majority of the others were joshing around with the new recruit. Command had finally sent them a trooper to replace Setter, who took a stray blaster bolt to the neck the week before. The new kid was confident at the very least. Though granted, over confidence is what got Setter killed 8 days ago. Triple 9 had already began rallying the squad- he had always been a stickler for regulation, but Blues spoke up regardless, it was still his squad to command.

"Alright ladies and gents, lock it up!" He called loudly as he stood up from his crate, helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, butt stock of his DLT-20A pressed against the floor of the transport. He looked at the troopers gathered in front of him. Bravo Company of 'The Emperor's Finest', also known as the errand boys by the rest of the Battalion. Sent around to various backwater planets to put down minuscule rebellions. The majority of B-1-2 were veterans- at least by a few tours. The two newest troopers in the squad were Winoda and Campo(NPC). Campo, while still green, had been with them since they landed on Ryloth, Winoda on the other hand was fresh out of academy. The rest of the squad was a bit more experienced, with Triple-9 being the 'oldest' of them all.

"We've got a routine mission today squad," Blues said, barking over the general roar of the IDT's engines. "Investigating whispers of a rebellion down in the Kala'din slum-sprawl. Keep your head on a swivel, these natives might not appear threatening, but there are a lot more of them than there are us, and they're fragging everywhere."

"However, that does not mean fire on the natives as soon as you feel threatened. So keep your cool and maintain trigger discipline." This second comment was directly mostly towards Winoda and Campo- Winoda who was brand new, and Campo who in a panic had open fired on natives his first day on the squad and ended up getting Setter killed.

"We'll be landing on top of one of the Imperial Outposts on top of the slum city." Blues continued, pulling out a holo-transmitter displaying a map of the slums. "From there, we'll disembark and continue on foot through the city towards Objective marker Alpha."

"Alpha is one of the known hideouts of Sarr'Khan, a local smuggler. Scouts have reported spotting him with some decidedly insurgent looking characters, we're to shake him down for information. At that point we'll patrol for insurgents. Find em, bag em, and go home. Bravo-1-1 will be splitting up to patrol the city streets, and provide us with flank security. Bravo-1-3 will be on standby at the outpost in case reinforcements are needed."

Looking over his squad, Blues sighed. "Chances are, this is going to be like every other mission we've had this week. Nothing but whispers in the air and a couple of hungry twi'leks with cruddy blasters."

The squad swayed as the IDT cut its speed considerably, stopping to a hover above the outpost. As it began to descend, Blues pulled on his helmet, sealing himself within his suit. Looking around to make sure his squad did the same, he shouldered his blaster and pressed the button on the transport door. The suited stormtroopers were impervious to the blast of hot air that rushed to welcome them as the doors of the IDT hissed open, showing them the low lying, shoddy construction of the Kala'din slum-sprawl. The vast majority of the buildings were only one or two stories high, and constructed of a combination of permacrete, mud brick, stone, and sheet metal.

"Alright troopers, dismount." Blues called out as he jumped off the transport and onto the landing pad of the Imperial Outpost- The only well relatively well-constructed building in the slum. A cube of permacrete, with a small garrison of Imperial soldiers milling around, the outpost was hardly a seat of power for the Empire in the slums, but it was a slum, and the outpost was there more for appearances than actual purpose.

A flight of steps, and a doorway later, the squad was on the streets of the Kala'din slums, first squad filtering past them as they began their patrols.

Triple nines boots hit dirt first, and it was dirt. Though it stood to reason, why waste a perfectly good prefabricated base on the outskirts of a slum? He would hazard a guess that some of the equipment was almost as old as he was. The slums themselves older than he looked. He nodded to first squad as they broke off on their route, scanning the rooftops on the narrow streets. He could feel his boots occasionally getting stuck in some of the filth, that despite the warm climate of the planet still managed to make a nice squelching sound. This no doubt wasn't on whatever pamphlet the greenhorn had read before joining. At least he was a farm boy, so that at least meant that he wouldn't be worrying himself over some stained armour.

He looked at the Twi'leks as they past, some of them pulling back into their homes. All of them looking malnourished, tired. It was the same during the Clone Wars. He sighed and shook his head, this was the problem with politics. No doubt whoever was in charge of this planet was some credit grabbing idiot, living the high life. Things were supposed to improve after the Clone Wars. The sooner the Emperor could throw off the old chains of the Republic the better. If the Emperor were to handpick squads, that would remove all possibility off corruption.

Triple nine looked back at the squad, barely worth splitting them to cover one side of the street each with the size of it. He clicked his mic on. "Keep an eye out Rookies, there's lots of little hidey holes. If I get shot in the back from one of your sectors my boot will be going where the sun don't shine." He turned as he saw a curtain move a couple of floors away, a kid peering through. Probably one of the few times he had seen a full outfit. "That said, remember what the Sarge said. Trigger discipline. Unless you know for sure it's a blaster being pointed at us, don't shoot. Last thing we need is to turn this slum into a warzone."

Well, here he was, time to shine, make or break, all the lines he'd heard in the holovids. Rian thought putting that big, white, four layered bucket would've felt more accomplishing. If anything it just exasperated his nerves. He'd paid close enough attention to the briefing, though he did have to stifle some disappointment. True, they were gathering intel on what could possibly be a growing rebel cell, and even Rian knew you couldn't expect to be sent on the 'glitz and glamour' assignments when you almost got the boot from training, but nobody liked being put through years of some of the most agonizing training the Empire had to offer just to feel like a glorified security patrolman, did they? If that's where the Stormtrooper Corps had seen fit to put him, Winoda'd at least make sure to look good while doing it. He put on his helmet, stood up straighter than a lightsaber, and fell in behind his superiors, rifle in hand.

Walking through a prefabricated military outpost wasn't a shockingly new experience for Rian, though the looks of awe he caught from some of your average every day Imperial troopers was just a little bit disorienting, but not unwelcome. It was probably the first time since he got out of the Academy that he actually felt like maybe all that hellish training was worth it. This was, of course, before he actually stepped out into the slums of Ryloth. Though nobody could see it under his helmet, Rian's demeanor had almost instantly soured. Didn't graduation from Stormtrooper Academy meant he wouldn't have to deal with dirt and dung (or at least, he hoped it was dung) anymore?

Rian'd already decided he'd only speak when spoken to when it came to his first assignment, considering he'd probably be spending the majority of his time trying to make sure he didn't fuck up. After that first impression, he couldn't help but feel like he wasn't particularly accepted into the group yet, something he could only ascertain would change over time. That or he'd be the one everyone hated. Every group had one of those.

The squadron's newest member was shaken from his thoughts when 'Bossman's' voice had decided to give he and his fellow private a lecture. He didn't want to turn the slum into a war-zone? From where Rian was standing, the place already was a war-zone.

Never as bad as Felucia, never as bad. "I still can't believe anything lives here." Norman said rather quietly and with disgust in his voice. This place was beyond a dump, even Felucia was more useful than this place. As he looked out from the landing pad as everyone shuffled down the stairs that was the only thought that even came to his mind. The tail-heads wern't all that useful and not to mention they were generally criminals. He silently wondered to himself why the empire even wasted men here. It would be better to just flatten all the cities with turbo-lasers and building something useful here. But then again the moffs probably had their reasons, they always did.

Norman enjoyed the clambering and scrapping of boots on the nice solid stairs all the way down. He knew they were going to be on the dirt and shoddily produced houses for the rest of patrol so he figured he would enjoy the little things. Some of the imperials working in the base seemed almost happy to see the stormtroopers roaming their halls. But they also knew that them being here meant something had come up and warranted their deployment. They would likely take more joy when they were leaving as that meant the problem had been dealt with and their jobs had become easier. He had recently found himself longing for the high-rises of Coruscant. Even the lower levels had atleast some form of artificiality to it as well as cracks of nature put there by the empire. It was certainly more predictable and supremely more civilized than these outer-rim worlds that wouldn't even be fit to lick lord Vader's boot.

Once the squad actually piled out of the imperial symbol occupation his mind drifted back from the seat of the empire to the slums stretching in front of him. "Another day in paradise, don't you think? No droids to deal with and no Acklay to blow up with mass-drivers." Normin said sarcastically. Being that he had an DLT-20 Normin got to cover the roof tops with another trooper. His neck had almost felt like it was going to snap a few times during these patrols since there were always people on the roofs. Most of the time they didn't do anything other than watch with apprehension but last time the rookie got popped just because there were more above them then level with them.

Tipping his rifle up to fufill his duty he began to smile at all the emaciated twi'leks scurrying away from them. Granted it was tactically better for them to be outside so they could see what they were doing but atleast this way sightlines had a habit of being more clear. His foot came down onto something that seemed rather squishy to him and he guessed it was feces. He didn't bother to look at it considering that every deployment he had at some point stepped in dung.

Jaya was one of the last of her squad off the shuttle, her sniper was on her back, though with one quick move of her hand she could have had it unholstered in a moment's notice. That wouldn't be her first choice in an ambush in close quarters though, she was a sure shot with her sidearm and it was much less awkward to use at a short distance than her long rifle. Her paranoia over an ambush increased as she took in the sight of the planet they had set foot upon. As she walked she spoke into her communication's device, slowly so that the others in her squad could understand each word.

"The hidey holes won't be what do us in if we're stupid. Improvised explosives are always a possibility in these places. It doesn't take a ton of finesse or credits to create a homemade bomb. Desperate people don't give a damn about hurting innocents if it means their enemies get hurt the worst." She said as her eyes scanned the civilians around them. Even children could be used in hand with crudely made explosives, one just would need to get a foolish Stormtrooper's attention, get them in one direction then the bomb would go off.

The female Stormtrooper took a step away from the others as she moved up a set of stairs and followed the group as she walked across the rooftops. She needed a vantage point, somewhere up high that gave her the perfect view of their surroundings. A rifle up high was worth ten grunts down low as long as the rifle was certain with their aim, which she most definitely was. She kept moving slowly, a duo of Twi'Lek's on a roof she stepped onto, at the turn of her head towards them they muttered something in their alien language and disappeared down a staircase, more annoyed than nervous at a big bad Stormie walking near them.

Myrinda stepped along in the center of the rough echelon. She didn’t like urban environments, most troopers didn’t, invariably armies worked best where there were open fields of fire. In a dense environment like this, sight lines were non existent and some crazy local with a crappy carbine could blow away a whole squad of storm troopers with a lucky burst.

Comm signals spilled across her optics, intensity and origin. In theory it would let her pick up a sudden uptake in comm traffic that might precede an ambush or a rapid response. In practice, it was unlikely that the locals would be that sophisticated. To her surprise there was a spike. She played back the burst, making sure it wasn’t an Imperial signal.

“Command,” she spoke into her comm, queuing a private channel between her, Blues and Nines.

“Some nonstandard comm chatter Sarge,” she reported neutrally. It didn’t necessarily mean something. Maybe a bunch of people had just heard about a speeder crash or something, but that determination was above her pay grade. She drew her attention away from the data and paid full attention to her surroundings, just in case it was about to drop in the pot.

"Just keep your eyes peeled, head on a swivel." Blues said, cutting through the chatter. The squad walked slowly down the street, half on one side of the street, the other half on the opposite side. Walking down the center of the street was a good way of painting a target on your back. Blues led the column on the right side of the street, while Triple Nines led the column on the left side. Urban environments were arguably the most dangerous- requiring twitch reflexes and good close quarters skills to survive. At the same time, the twitch reflexes were a double edged sword, as accidentally shooting a native was a good way to turn the entire town on you.

Pips' voice crackled across the comm. “Some nonstandard comm chatter Sarge,” she reported. Blues took a look at his map and shrugged.

"No helping that, we're crossing into a bazaar now." Blues replied, "Keep an eye on it regardless."

The squad paused momentarily outside the bazaar, the noise from the busy hub washing over their speakers. They'd have to stick to comm communication while they were in there. They wouldn't be able to hear each other using external speakers. This particular bazaar was a dangerous place, a well known black market hub, it was doubtful they'd take kindly to a squad of troopers marching through, but at the same time, there was nothing too suspicious about a group of imperial soldiers walking through the slums.

"Smiles," Blues called through the comms. "We're about to enter a potential wasps nest, relocate and set up as needed. Maintain contact at all times. Sending Kent to you to provide security." Blues nodded to a trooper. Kent shouldered his T-21 repeating blaster and quickly hoofed it towards Smiles. His repeating blaster would provide excellent security for Smiles, as well as allow Smiles to direct suppressing fire to support the squad's actions.

The squad stepped into the bazaar, and was immediately greeted by the cacophonous noise of dozens of twi'lek vendors yelling and harking their wares at one another. Though as they passed by, vendors and customers would fall silent and stare them down. Blues kept a tight grip on his blaster, thumbing the safety off. "Keep your eyes open men, we have to cut through the bazaar before we get to Sarr'Khan's hideout."

There was a rustle to the side of them, Winoda could see a figure dipping into the shadow of nearby tent, its arms reaching into cloak. Pips could notice a sudden hush in comm traffic, suddenly subdued and quiet. Smiles noticed a pair of figures following the squad at a considerable distance, cloaked, but with no weapons visible.

Triple Nine entered the market, his helmet automatically cutting out all the unnecessary chatter. His right hands glove creaked as he tightened his grip around his rifle, flexing slightly. Ensuring that in the moment that something happened he'd be ready. As per procedure as Blue took his fire team up one alley he used his left robotic hand to signal to the left, taking Farm Boy, Norman and Campo with him down the other line of stalls. They were behind the stalls and he was mentally taking an inventory of every piece of illegal spice that was being hastily covered up. The Imperial Troopers would have a field day clearing this place out, the officers would practically salivate over having something to do and all the forms to fill out! Oh they'd have fun.

Then everything went, metaphorically quiet. Most people in the bazaar had went quiet and watched them as they passed however now it went deathly silent. Comms dropping off and more and more people looking at them.How nice. He keyed the comms to his fireteam. "Norman, take the rear. These tailheads are getting antsy. Campo and Farms you two take centre formation. Hold your fire until the first shot is fired. Safeties off gentlemen. This could get rough." He then flicked his helmet over to the command channel.

"I'm switching up the formation a bit Blues, putting the Rookies in the centre. Things are getting tense, hud indicates a large open roofed area ahead where multiple floors get a look down on a central plaza. If there going to hit us that will be there, recommend one of our teams goes up the stairwell five metres from our current position to flank any ambushers. Pips can cover our six from any re-enforcements."

Hmm, still not as bad as Felucia. What were they even protecting at this point. These people were getting rather frisky with them and as far as he could tell that was what they usually did. This place was nothing more than hot dirt and slightly taller mounds of hot dirt. These people hated them and he didn't like them much either. He began to wonder how many credits worth of contraband they would pick up if they sent a proper raid through this bazaar. He smiled at the idea of a full platoon marching through the streets and picking up all the weapons left over from the clone wars and seeing how much of a fight they would be able to put up after that.

All of the tail-heads moving indoors and giving them fearful or even hateful looks was not doing to much to sate his want to wholesale slaughter these pitiful animals. One young twi'lek girl began obviously stowing something behind a counter and rummaging around looking for something. Even the kids were willing to break themselves on the might of the empire, funny. When the clone informed them of a "tail" on them Norman burst out laughing. Apon sarge ordering him to take the rear Stormin turned on his heels and looked straight back at the two cloaked figures and walking backwards at a slightly slower pace so as to eventually end up at the back of the group. He gripped his weapon tighter and put the weapon sideways against his shoulder with his free hand holding the base of the barrel loosely. As he slowly made his way to the back he made sure that the two figures knew he was watching them. "Not even gonna a give me a rookie meat shield ey sarge?" Norman followed up an off comm snicker.

Now at the back of the group he quickened his backward pace to match the group. He then without stopping turned back on his heels forwards and moved towards the left edge of the group so just incase they started taking fire from the rear he could jump into the cover of a stall. That was assuming they missed their opening rounds anyways. "You wouldn't let me get shot now would you Smiles? That would put a real damper on our relationship I think."

Smiles had drawn her sniper rifle as she moved into the perfect spot where she had an overlook of the bazaar. Smiles, she didn't really care for the nickname, not in a negative manner, but it didn't matter to her what they called her. As long as they respected her, especially the ones ranked below her. She ran a gloved hand along her rifle as Kent met her up on the roof and tucked in behind her, his weapon out. She didn't say a word to the man, all he needed to do was to prevent her from getting shot up or surprised by the enemy from behind. Even the greenest solder could do that.

"I have eyes all over, scope is on the two cloaked strangers, they could just be scouting our squad for another ambush group, but I have eyes on them." Smiles replied, she had a bad feeling about it, but the last thing she needed was to get trigger happy and gun down a suspicious civilian who turns out just to be a civilian. She didn't like taking innocent lives unless the mission called for it. The sniper had gone into a prone position, eyes in the scope of her rifle, finger near the trigger, safety off.

"That'd let us know they're trying to kill us, wouldn't it? Your armor should protect you." Jaya asked, a smile almost creeping onto her face as she made the comment to Normin. One perk being up in her position was that she was out of the way if hell broke loose and the bazaar turned into a battlefield. In that situation she'd be able to wreak havoc from above, which was right where she enjoyed to wreak havoc.