![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixTitle: Getting Results
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG, more or less
Word Count: Word is down again....><;;
Characters: Delta Squad
Summary: Delta Squad on a mission gone temporarily awry.
"Outta ammo here, Boss."
"I'm down to one clip."
"I'm out."
You curse to yourself and to your own nearly-empty last clip. It isn't supposed to be like this, this was just supposed to be a simple infiltration and information retrieval mission. You and your squad isn't supposed to be pinned down by a dozen driods in a hall too small to comfortably throw a detonator.
"This is your fault, Sev." Scorch says, his voice cheery but tight. "You just /had/ to go and pick off some stupid droid."
Sev doesn't bother to say the droid already knew they were there and was going for back-up, they already knew that. Instead he says, "After your done not getting killed, I'm going to beat the bacta out of you."
"There's a Super Battle Droid!" Fixer calls out from the front, picking off weaker droids with the last of his ammo.
Scorch huddles across the hall from you. "You might wanna think up something quick, leader-man. That thing will be on us before we can take it down with just these DC-15s."
You bark into your helmet. "Advisor," your accent thickens with tension, "we're in a bit of a bind, here. Can you find us a way out?"
"Accessing ship schematics." The voice replies. "I'm not finding any secondary routes and the only air ducts in your area only lead about a half a meter farther then your current position."
"Air ducts?" You repeat. "Where are the-"
You cut yourself off, seeing one of the vents across the hall from Sev, the other end a grate in the ceiling half way between the droids and your Deltas. It only takes you a second to decide.
"Oh-seven, how confident are you in taking a SBD hand-to-hand?"
His pistol fire hesitates for only half a heartbeat but he asks tightly. "What do you have in mind, Boss?"
"A little surprise." You give a pointed look to the grates on the ceiling and across from him. You hear a dark smirk in his darker voice.
"Get it into position and find a way to take off its front plating and it's a party."
Scorch openly gapes. "Are you /serious/? Sev, I knew you were psycho, but DAMN!"
"I can set it up for you." Fixer says. "If three-eight and six-two cover the other droids, that is."
"You got it, four-oh." You tell him. "Let's move, Deltas."
You and Scorch lean out from your positions of cover, lighting up the weaker droids as Fixer openly charges the SBD and Sev silently makes his way into the vent. You call out that your ammo's run out, switching out your rifle for your pistol. Two quick shots keep the droids' attention on you.
The SBD, however, raises its arm and lets out several rounds down the hall, catching Fixer square in the shoulder and chest, sprawling him on his back as his shielding fails.
"FIXER!" Scorch is half way out of his crouch before your hand anchors him in place.
"Keep your position, six-eight!" You snap. You see his chest puff, ready to argue when he sees what you've already caught- what the droids won't know will hit them: the thermal detonator Fixer was backpedaling over.
Over your comm link you hear him counting lowly, "four," a barely inaudible clank signals Sev in position, "three," Fixer's foot is now on the detonator, "TWO," in one smooth motion he kicks the charge at the droid and flings himself against the bulkhead, pressing his face into the crease and covering his head and neck with his hands.
"GET DOWN!" You call out, throwing yourself flat on the ground. The explosive goes off, droids squealing and you can feel the heat through your armor.
Something goes clanging down the hall and you think it might be the plating being tossed by the explosion but as you look up, Sev has already moved. His feet braces against the SBD's waist and his blade anchors him by the droid's shoulder. His other hand has the pistol, firing point blank into the droid's red core.
It gives off one last squeal, toppling over backwards and exploding on the way down as Sev jumps off, picking off whatever droids managed to survive the blast.
"Fixer!" You call out. "Are you all right?"
He flops onto his back and lets out something between a gasp and a chuckle. "Unit four-oh is good to go, sir." He tiredly accepts Sev's hand up.
"That," Sev says as he pulls Fixer to his feet, "was a very Scorch-esque move."
Said clone grins cheekily. "Yup, I certainly come up with creative results!"
The other gives him a flat look back. "I meant in terms of stupidity and recklessness."
Fixer, however, gives into the rare chance in joining their banter. "The only difference is I can pull it off without losing any facial hair."
"Hey, you can't team up on me!" Scorch protests. "Boss, back me up here!"
You chuckle at them. "Give him a break, guys. He hasn't burned off anything recently. Besides, you're just upset that you lost the bet."
"Yeah, that's ri- hey, what bet?" The others snort at Scorch. "C'mon, what bet?"
Suddenly all business, you point down the hall. "To the right is the landing gear. We can repell down undetected and complete this mission. Let's move, Deltas."
But Scorch, covering your six, whines, "Hey, hold on! What bet??"
Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando
Rating: PG, more or less
Word Count: Word is down again....><;;
Characters: Delta Squad
Summary: Delta Squad on a mission gone temporarily awry.
"Outta ammo here, Boss."
"I'm down to one clip."
"I'm out."
You curse to yourself and to your own nearly-empty last clip. It isn't supposed to be like this, this was just supposed to be a simple infiltration and information retrieval mission. You and your squad isn't supposed to be pinned down by a dozen driods in a hall too small to comfortably throw a detonator.
"This is your fault, Sev." Scorch says, his voice cheery but tight. "You just /had/ to go and pick off some stupid droid."
Sev doesn't bother to say the droid already knew they were there and was going for back-up, they already knew that. Instead he says, "After your done not getting killed, I'm going to beat the bacta out of you."
"There's a Super Battle Droid!" Fixer calls out from the front, picking off weaker droids with the last of his ammo.
Scorch huddles across the hall from you. "You might wanna think up something quick, leader-man. That thing will be on us before we can take it down with just these DC-15s."
You bark into your helmet. "Advisor," your accent thickens with tension, "we're in a bit of a bind, here. Can you find us a way out?"
"Accessing ship schematics." The voice replies. "I'm not finding any secondary routes and the only air ducts in your area only lead about a half a meter farther then your current position."
"Air ducts?" You repeat. "Where are the-"
You cut yourself off, seeing one of the vents across the hall from Sev, the other end a grate in the ceiling half way between the droids and your Deltas. It only takes you a second to decide.
"Oh-seven, how confident are you in taking a SBD hand-to-hand?"
His pistol fire hesitates for only half a heartbeat but he asks tightly. "What do you have in mind, Boss?"
"A little surprise." You give a pointed look to the grates on the ceiling and across from him. You hear a dark smirk in his darker voice.
"Get it into position and find a way to take off its front plating and it's a party."
Scorch openly gapes. "Are you /serious/? Sev, I knew you were psycho, but DAMN!"
"I can set it up for you." Fixer says. "If three-eight and six-two cover the other droids, that is."
"You got it, four-oh." You tell him. "Let's move, Deltas."
You and Scorch lean out from your positions of cover, lighting up the weaker droids as Fixer openly charges the SBD and Sev silently makes his way into the vent. You call out that your ammo's run out, switching out your rifle for your pistol. Two quick shots keep the droids' attention on you.
The SBD, however, raises its arm and lets out several rounds down the hall, catching Fixer square in the shoulder and chest, sprawling him on his back as his shielding fails.
"FIXER!" Scorch is half way out of his crouch before your hand anchors him in place.
"Keep your position, six-eight!" You snap. You see his chest puff, ready to argue when he sees what you've already caught- what the droids won't know will hit them: the thermal detonator Fixer was backpedaling over.
Over your comm link you hear him counting lowly, "four," a barely inaudible clank signals Sev in position, "three," Fixer's foot is now on the detonator, "TWO," in one smooth motion he kicks the charge at the droid and flings himself against the bulkhead, pressing his face into the crease and covering his head and neck with his hands.
"GET DOWN!" You call out, throwing yourself flat on the ground. The explosive goes off, droids squealing and you can feel the heat through your armor.
Something goes clanging down the hall and you think it might be the plating being tossed by the explosion but as you look up, Sev has already moved. His feet braces against the SBD's waist and his blade anchors him by the droid's shoulder. His other hand has the pistol, firing point blank into the droid's red core.
It gives off one last squeal, toppling over backwards and exploding on the way down as Sev jumps off, picking off whatever droids managed to survive the blast.
"Fixer!" You call out. "Are you all right?"
He flops onto his back and lets out something between a gasp and a chuckle. "Unit four-oh is good to go, sir." He tiredly accepts Sev's hand up.
"That," Sev says as he pulls Fixer to his feet, "was a very Scorch-esque move."
Said clone grins cheekily. "Yup, I certainly come up with creative results!"
The other gives him a flat look back. "I meant in terms of stupidity and recklessness."
Fixer, however, gives into the rare chance in joining their banter. "The only difference is I can pull it off without losing any facial hair."
"Hey, you can't team up on me!" Scorch protests. "Boss, back me up here!"
You chuckle at them. "Give him a break, guys. He hasn't burned off anything recently. Besides, you're just upset that you lost the bet."
"Yeah, that's ri- hey, what bet?" The others snort at Scorch. "C'mon, what bet?"
Suddenly all business, you point down the hall. "To the right is the landing gear. We can repell down undetected and complete this mission. Let's move, Deltas."
But Scorch, covering your six, whines, "Hey, hold on! What bet??"
