Millions of a Face

Chapter 9

"Get down!"

Heat from the detonator blast penetrated the gaps in his armor, leaving an itching sensation in its wake. Faces swore, rolling back to a ready position, aiming his rifle at the new wave of droids. From his crouch, he could just barely make out the B2 battle droids scattered amongst the B1s, and swore again. Those blasted clankers were tougher to take out than the regs, requiring at least two shots to pierce their armor. Not even mentioning the casualties the rapid-fire bolts produced when unleashed.

Faces aimed for them, knowing that taking them out before they were in range would save a lot of hassle.

"Faces!" Hiccup yelled over comms, not pausing in his shooting. "The B2s!"

"Already on it," he replied, taking down his third droid.

Christophsis must have once been a beautiful planet, before the war. It still was, in some ways. The crystalline buildings towering over them sparkled in the sun's light, as well as the rubble they were using as cover. The wide open streets were both a blessing and a curse while fighting upon them, great for line of sight, and bad for the same reason.

Faces would love to spend time wandering around and exploring, but, unfortunately, he is a bit preoccupied at the moment.

"Droid popper, left side!" Ka shouted, chucking the round detonator directly into a cluster of droids from the other side of the street. "Woo-hoo! Yeah! Take that, you metal fucks!"

Rolling his eyes at his squadmate's antics, Faces lined up another shot at a B2 a bit further away than the others.

The bolt hits, but as he pulls the trigger for the next shot, nothing happens.

"Fucking shit!" Faces quickly ducks back behind the rubble he was using as cover.

"Faces! Report," Hiccup snaps a bit frantically. Aw. He was worried.

"Damned rifle jammed on me, sir," he replies, already taking apart the blaster on the dusty ground. He quickly found the problem

"The ignition module overheated. I can make a short term solution for that, but it'll need to be replaced." Faced reports, digging the offending object out from the rifle. He could feel the heat through his insulated gloves.

That's not very good.

"Do it. Next lull in the battle, get your ass a new rifle or you're stuck with a DC-15." Hiccup snarls.

Shit. Faces hated the DC blasters. Sure, they were the standard, but there was just something off about them when he held them. And Hiccup knew that, the bastard.

"Sir yes sir," he grumbles.

Lifting the front of his helmet up a bit, he spat on the ignition module and rubbed it on the metal, repeating a few times until the heat was at a more bearable level.

It was a little gross, but hey, this was war.

After reassembling his blaster, Faces resumed blasting down the more threatening droids. It was a soothing rhythm, aiming, pulling the trigger, bracing the recoil, repeat. It drowned out the sounds of battle. The sounds of blasters firing. Of detonators blowing.

Of vode dying.

"Son of a bitch!" yells Jumper, who ducks behind the same rubble cover as Faces.

"What," snaps Faces at the same time as Hiccup. He couldn't afford any more distractions, the lives of his brothers were on the line.

"– fuckin' droid– clipped the– bucket–" crackles through the in-helmet comms.

What. Kneeling down with his back to the rubble, Faces turns to look at his squadmate. The left side of his helmet had a large scorch mark from a blaster shot, deep enough to have sparks shooting out of the exposed tech. A little to the right and he would've been dead.

Son of a bitch, indeed.

Heart pounding in his chest, Faces reports to the rest of his squadmates. "Jumper's bucket comm got hit, he's fighting deaf."

Multiple curses erupted in his ears. His squad knew what a bucket shot meant.

"Tell him to keep his bucket on and to follow your lead shooting clankers, karking hell," Hiccup orders, the faintest wobble in his voice only heard if you knew where to look.

After relaying the information to a pissed off Jumper, Faces fell back into the rhythm of battle

Aim. Shoot. Brace. Repeat.

Aim. Shoot. Brace. Repeat.

Aim.

Shoot.

Brace.

Rep–

"Stand down!"

Immediately dropping down behind his cover and dragging Jumper down with him, Faces turned his head to look at Hiccup across the street. What did he mean, stand down?

"Order from command just came in. They've called a cease fire!"

What.