TO THE MINES
Obredaan
Mines
Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Seraphim
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
Objective One: Obredaan, Fallen Industry (Jedi/GADF)
Still not a fan of mysterious mission hitchhikers… but he’s not wrong.
Connel said nothing, but he stood almost amused at the hubris shown in this individual's sharp, quiet power. The Force seemed to bend, as if following this individual’s steps before he took them. Omega may not have been able to feel it. Connel could though.
They don’t interrupt as he vanished forward.
Ten minutes later, the consultant returned with the kind of data only a Force-imbued ghost could pull without leaving a footprint.
//...Four on the walls. Five in adjoining tunnels. Intersectional fire zones. E-Web not online for another ten minutes.//
//We could reach the junction in two.//
//Thoughts?//
Michael almost instantly…
Flank the side tunnels. Raphael left, Azrael right. Sariel climbs and neutralizes overwatch. Jeremiel secures nonlethal lines of escape for any civilians or slaves… Gabriel, disrupt their setup comms. Loop them if you can… We go hard and fast. No time to waste.”
Sariel was already moving before ordered: If he’s right about the scaffold snipers, I’ll have two seconds of open sightline from the upper pipe bend. I only need one.
Gabriel was tapping into the squad uplink:
Interference grid’s got a blind spot near the E-Web storage rack. Guess where I’m going.
Azrael, if you could see underneath his mask, was grinning as he drew his blade:
He’s creepy. I like him.
If he can keep seeing ahead… I’ll keep the back clear.
Connel just turned back to Alicio, not asking how the man saw what he saw, just a single nod.
We hit them before the trap closes. Consultant—stay mobile. If you see anything deeper—movement, Force anomalies, tunnels that shouldn’t exist—feed it to me directly.
He then placed a hand on his belt. Slowly. No threat—just the faintest warning.
We work clean. No collateral. If you strike, make it count. The shadows move again.
Omega Squad fanned out, coordinated not by shouted orders, but the pulse of practiced rhythm. Now they are in it. Not just a squad, not just a mission.
Predators.
Phantoms.
And now, it seems… not entirely alone.
The mine shaft bends downward into a tight choke point, then opens into a vaulted junction where old scaffolding rises high on all sides. The enemy is still mid-setup—grabbing E-Web components, yelling into fractured comms, and taking positions above and to the flanks. The whole place is primed to become a kill zone.
They just didn’t expect the killers to already be inside.
The signal isn’t a word. It’s a breath. A twitch. A ripple through squad comms.
Raphael is the first thing the Remnant soldiers hear—his heavy boots thunder down the ramp and then his rotary blaster opens fire, sending sparks and screaming metal into the air.
HEY, GUESS WHO’S NOT THE CAVALRY!
He doesn’t aim to kill—he aims to overwhelm. Bolts blast E-Web parts across the floor. Crates rupture. Cover evaporates. Right behind him, Gabriel darts low, slicing a control panel mid-slide and flipping the ambient lights into strobing disarray. He shouts over the chaos: Signal grid’s looping! Congratulations, you’re deaf and blind!
One soldier reached for a sidearm—Gabriel flipped the rifle up with his boot and stunned him with it mid-roll.
From a catwalk far above, Sariel lined up five silhouettes behind steel braces.
snap-hiss-CRACK. One dropped without a sound.
snap-hiss-CRACK. Another slumped over the railing.
They’re scattering high. Adjusting trajectory.
Beside him, Jeremiel kneeled—eyes sharp, shield slung over his back, scanning for wounded or surprises.
One soldier broke from cover, reaching for a detonator—Jeremiel fired a tranq bolt into his thigh before the weapon’s even armed.
Pressure’s cracking them. Go.
Michael vaults over a dropped container, blaster in one hand, knife in the other. He moves like a tide of efficiency, sweeping through cover, kicking aside a power conduit and stunning two Remnant troops before they even fire.
“Clear the west tunnel—Azrael, clean sweep!”
Azrael roars through the enemy formation like a one-man riot. He tosses a smoke charge behind him, then barrels through it—blade in one hand, thermal knife in the other, tearing down supports to collapse makeshift barricades.
“WHO BUILDS WITH CRATE STACKS?!”
“BREAK YOUR TOYS!”
A Remnant trooper tries to run—Azrael shoulder-slams him into a wall and keeps moving.
Through it all, Connel moves like gravity itself.
One trooper fired—Connel caught the bolt on his combat shield, pivoted, and threw it like a discus into another’s chestplate. A second tried to engage hand-to-hand—Connel spun behind him, elbowed him unconscious, then caught the falling blaster mid-air and stunned another across the room. He ignited his shortsaber only once, slicing an entire comm relay in half with surgical precision. [COLOR=DARKORANGE][They’re folding. Jeremiel, secure the wounded. Raphael, perimeter. Gabriel—check for secondary locks or fallback codes.]
[All clear. Not a single fatality. Like clockwork. Good work.]
A heap of stunned, unconscious, and disarmed Remnant soldiers lie in the dust. Smoke coiled from cracked walls. The cortosis carts are still untouched. The whole junction is now
Omega’s.
Connel doesn’t stop moving. Doesn’t blink.
Tactical advantage is temporary. Get ready. We should go deeper. He then looked at Alicio as if waiting for him to decide.
