[It'd been five months since they're arrived here. Five of the most stress filled months of many of these veterens lives, a fact that was hard to overlook given the front-line service history all of them had. The Rebel resistence here was heavy, fighting erupted sporadically, and without warning. Entire towns and villages were working together, the network of enemies grew by the day, and their network of information and spies bogged down Adenn and his advances in their entirety. It seemed no matter where they went they faced an opposition that had known they were coming, knew what they had, and how to counter them. But the Kaleesh General never accepted defeat, and when one door closed, he'd simply bash in another. "I want our Armour to set up a perimeter around this town." That heavy rasp of a voice ordered as hundreds of boots sloshed over the flat, muddy ground. "Everyone has, their orders!" He continued as his scaled, and scarred hands grasped over the dripping stock of his rifle. "Commander, you and your men are with me. Let's move." Quickly the steady march and splash of boots over the rain drenched ground turned in to a thunder as they broke in to a jog. The heavily 13th Legion contingent of soldiers was complimented by only several smaller squads of 901st this evening. Fajra's was one of them. And this town was in for quite an awakening under this bleak, slate dark, raining sky.]

[Her breathing, continued heavy, her mouth open, heart pounded in her ears. "General" came a small voice, belonging to the twenty-one year old Commander. She was a Lady of House Melantha, a coalition of noble families. But that was irrelevant here, she was no different than the man beside her. She could barely see past her boots, which pounded the ground as she jogged in front of her men. At the time, she had an athletic frame that was wrapped in a black tactical suit. It was fitted, and had a turtleneck collar and long sleeves with extra padding along her forearms. Her boots covered her knees, they were laced up to the top, but left untied and stuck behind the flopping tongue of her boots. Long golden tendrils escaped from an ordinary black cap, that failed to keep the rain from her hazel eyes. Her hands were stiff and numb from the cold, it seemed that even if she tried, she could not detatch them from the slug thrower she carried.]

["Shut up, girl!" Adenn hissed with full authority, his massive frame bounding with remarkable grace and quickness. As the Imperial's drew closer the formation began to branch. Like tendrils of death they spread out through the picturesque village, Adenn, Jaigalaar, Fajra and her men the first to come to a halt. "Stack up," Adenn began, as they shouldered in against the wet, carved stone wall of a rather large home. Rain water streamed and splashed off from the gutters of it's aged roof, it's windows were dark, and hanging from every other one, a dark grey flag. Infact, if one were to look around at the entire town, the same flag was present on every building. This place was neutral. Civilian. Adenn palmed streams of water from the cracked brow of his bone mask. His body slowly edged outwards from the wall, squaring up with the door infront of him. Jaigalaar readied his weapon, and held the stock tight to his shoulder. Jon, who stood silently behind Fajra, rain beading down his helmet. Placed a palm on to her shoulder. Then the order flew out. "Breach!" Adenn growled, thursting a powerful forward kick against the door, which snapped from it's very hinges like brittle Corellian Daedeous wood. Jaigalaar was the first to enter, followed by Adenn. Jon began to push on Fajra's shoulder, they came in next. "Clear right," Jaigalaar's emotionless voice buzzed as they fanned in over the Nabooian weave carpets. A fire cackled and snapped in a wonderfully carved, sunken in fire pit. It's mantle adorned with family holophotos and heirlooms. As they proceeded deeper, panicked voices began to become evident. A child was crying, a wife pleading helplessly to their husband. The Imperials rounded a candle lit corner of the hall, and at the dinner table Adenn found his objective. "This. . . this family harbours no..." The words didn't even fully escape the mans mouth, Jaigalaar's weapon roared loudly, static flash illuminated the room in a blinding strobe. Adenn quickly followed suit. Fleeting deadly auto-fire across the dining chamber. Blasting grotesque and deadly wounds into the entire family of five.]

[She sucked in a sharp breath, forcing her own silence. She was used to the alien General's harsh words, but they were still hurtful. As she pressed her back against the stone wall, a feeling of dread formed within the pit of her stomach. Her muscles tensed beneath Jon's hand, for a moment she would glance over her shoulder, her hazel eyes searching his gaze. As soon as her eyes met his, she tore her gaze away as Adenn's order to breach flew out. She felt her body freeze up as she heard the door hit the ground, with Jon's help he urged her forward. The first thing she noticed was the warmth that filled the home, but there was no time to enjoy it. Their boots felt too loud within the serenity of the home, which would soon be overpowered by a child crying in the next room. Fajra would make her way into the hall, followed by Jon and a few men from the 901st. She saw Jaigalaar's shadow expand upon the wall, where the candles casted a soft glow. A silent no escaped her lips as she rounded the corner, just in time to watch a moment that she would never forget. When the fire ceased, she stood motionless. Soldiers know how to make their hearts go dead, you drop out of yourself. Lights and sounds change, it's like your looking down a tunnel. You see nothing but what's right infront of you and even that appears as if it's being observed by some surrogate, counterform of yourself that has been hollowed out.]

[A soft cloud of smoke hazed the hall, spilt crystal wine glasses clinged and swayed forward then back on their rounded sides. Then entire family was mutilated, the walls and tabled splintered and pocked with dozens of slug rounds. Though the few soldiers of the 901st that stood there in the hall had seen perhaps some of the most gruesome things any individual should have to witness, this sheer blatant slaughter of civilians was a first. "I want every soul in this forsaken pit destroyed." Adenn said quietly, his snake-slit eyes peering over the carnage he and his second in command had bestowed. "Is that clear?" He asked, turning slowly towards the soldiers, his shoulder cape clinging tightly to the phrik alloy back plate of his chest armor. But the moment only lasted briefly before he began to stride forward. "You have your orders, Commander. I expect them to be fulfilled."]

[It took a moment for her focus to return, slowly she lifted her gaze upward. This is what War is, what was left after Glory had fled. "Yes, Sir" she said firmly, with a confidence she did not feel. Whether by her hand or not, the civilians that occupied the town would be killed. But perhaps she could offer them a quick death, and more respect to their bodies. Without another word, she turned on her heel and departed the room. She brushed by Jon, unable to meet his gaze as she passed. As soon as she stepped outside, she relieved the pressure that had been building inside of her. Tears collected on her lashes and then continued down her face, masked by the poring rain. As her breath mingled with the air, white smoke escaped her lips. Alone, she would make her way into another home, where inside the sound of her slug thrower could be heard going off...one...two...four...six times.]

Fajra woke, shivering from her nightmare. Only it wasn't just a dream, it had happened once...nearly seven years ago. In the dreams, she had returned to her killing. The monster within her, the one she'd taken so many measures to bury, had clawed it's way to the surface. Nothing could soothe the decay she felt in her mind and soul. There were moments in her life she wished she could take back, she'd be a liar if she said otherwise. She never thought she'd make it past her twenty-first birthday, she'd been given many chances and she wasn't sure if she had any left. But if there was something to be learned, it would be that - {Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."} And when it came down to it, Fajra Merav was a risk taker, and apparantly she didn't have many limits. She struggled to focus on the here and now, and was soon standing on her feet. She would then approach the center of the room, and address her men one last time before Dantooine. "Why are we going to Dantooine? You don't even have to ask, because I've been asking myself the same question. Prepare to be disappointed, because I don't have an answer for you. But does it really matter? We've done things that I can't say I'm proud of...without reason. No matter how many times I wash my hands, they will never be clean enough. Glory has fled, one searches in vain for honor. We've all done things we're ashaimed of, and we'll continue to do so. I won't force you to come to Dantooine, I don't know what lies for us there...I cannot speak for the future. I just know that I'm going in, I'm going to cause a scene, and when I leave...I think I'll visit home and have a drink. And if I know you as well as I think I do, I won't be sharing that drink alone."

When it was time for the Wolfe Pack to gather in the room, there was not one that stayed behind. "Fall in!" the Commander ordered her men into formation, where they would await Havoc's orders.

Smirking, she would then skip over to the slide that revealed a map surrounding the area of the farms. When she was satisfied with the amount of information she retained, she turned the projector off and tossed the remote on the table. She leaned back in her chair, stretching as an over stuffed cat would.

Fajra shot a quick glance over her shoulder, directing her gaze toward the doorway. She leaned farther back in her chair, with only her boots to grip the table and keep her from falling. She wiggled her eyebrows and nose, curious as to why he wasn't in the room yelling at her. At first she thought the Jedi was coming to see her, red-faced and eyes nearly popping out of his head, at least they always seemed like they were going to fall out. She was surprised to see that she was still alone, but knew it was only a matter of time before she'd have to kiss her solitude good bye. Her legs did a little dance as she inched her chair forward, drawing it toward the table on all fours. As she rose, her body lingered by the table as the scent of food caught her attention. Her stomach growled in an effort to complain, the all too familiar feeling of hunger. Tentatively, she reached for a plate of assorted cookies and started to pig out.

Eventually, Fajra left the briefing room. When she returned to her men, she would find them in laughter over the Jedi and Mandalorian. "What did I miss?" she asked as she was stuffing her face. It wasn't unknown that the Commander had what some called an eating disorder, she rarely ate and often picked at her food. But when her stomach finally won the war, she couldn't stop eating and would only make herself sick. [Jaden] "The Jedi and Mandalorian were fighting like an old married couple. What would keep you from missing that?" he would ask, wondering what the Commander was up to. "All I heard was something about apes. As your Commander I don't have to explain myself...but I will," she paused, took another bite and mumbed the following words "I was working, and I trust the maps have been memorized while I've been gone?"

She wiped her hands against her thighs, displaying a devil-may-care attitude as she smudged cookie crumbs on her clothing. She would then cross her arms over her chest and wait as her men pulled out their maps. "Study the coordinates, not only the designated rally point and farms, but the surrounding area. When you've got it memorized, burn the evidence" she commanded, and without another word she turned on her heel and departed the room. When she returned to the cockpit, she slumped down into her chair and placed her hands onto her stomach. She felt uncomfortable and over stuffed, her body now paying the price for her rebellious eating habits.

She put the comm away as she entered the cargo hold, now holding her slug thrower with both hands, the left closest to the trigger. Her men were already in place, and would be ready incase the situation called for action. Fajra would be the first after Havoc to approach the ramp, but she stopped where the light from outside and the darkness from within blended, making the shadows her home.