When the Good Times End -WIP

Prologue

"Get away from me!" Fives' voice echoed through the warehouse. He quickly reached for the closest weapon he could find, his mind spinning. The crate on which Rex set his pistols was close enough.

"Don't do it, soldier." Commander Fox ordered through his helmet's vocoder. He wasn't going to back down and turn himself in. Not when he was this close. He knew so much. Too much, for the Republic's liking anyway.

As soon as he grabbed the blaster, he fired a shot randomly as a warning, hoping to at the very least startle the Guard. And he startled them, alright. He winced sharply as a white-hot pain engulfed his shoulder. He sucked a breath and he made a break for it, not wanting to stick around any longer to get shot again.

He could hear General Skywalker shouting orders to turn off the ray shield and to pursue Fives. If only they had just listened. If only General Skywalker had believed him. He had trusted Skywalker, and it felt like that trust had been completely thrown out.

He frantically searched for an exit. Any exit would do, especially with the Coruscant Guard on his tail again. He didn't even know where he was going anymore. He took a left, and then a right, up some stairs, his plastoid alloy boots heavily clanking against the metal flooring of the catwalk. He spotted a fire exit and took it, breathing heavily from all the running. It was odd; he didn't think he was running for that long. He continued to push himself forward, despite the searing pain in his shoulder.

He kept running because he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he would be captured. Or worse.

He kept running because that was the only thing he could do.

It was without a doubt he was now one of the most wanted men in the Republic, simply because he knew too much. Funny how trying to prevent the genocide of thousands warrants a planet-wide manhunt.

He picked up a dirty cloak lying on the ground and covered himself with it, gagging for a moment from the smell, and disappeared into the crowd of people.

—— —— ——

The smell of smoke and speeder oil filled the air. The guard would be back to investigate soon, so he had to get out of there fast. Off Coruscant would be even better, though the chances of smuggling himself onto a transport would be almost impossible. He'd figure it out. He was an ARC, and he was going to survive.

Little did he know, was that this was only the beginning.

The beginning to an end.