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[color=00aeef][i]From the moment we popped out of our test tubes, every moment of our lives was oriented for war. Every lesson, every second, facilitated our future as soldiers for the Republic. Of course, we live in memory of our forebearers, a testament to the sacrifice of countless of our brothers in the waves of our old homeworld. Everything we do is for the Republic. When I was deemed ready, I could have picked up a blaster and beskar and fought on the shores of Arkania like so many of my brothers... but instead, I chose duty over my own glory. I chose to become something more, so that I could better serve the people who gave us a second chance. Now, I stand ready for when my Republic or my Banner calls me. In the meantime...[/i][/color]

Crossfire's fist met fur as an armored fist connected with a Bothan, sending the thug flying across cracked pavement. Crossfire turned his head slightly to his right, the HUD of his helmet locking in on a Jawa slowly shuffling towards a corner in the alleyway with a large bag of jangling metal. The Clone Commando lifted his right gauntlet and flicked his wrist clockwise in the windup, triggering the firing of his whipcord towards the fleeing suspect. With a delicate movement of the arm, the end of the whipcord swung around and coiled back around the Jawa, synching in to restrain him. The sudden shift in momentum knocked the suspect back, causing the bag to get tossed into the air. Crossfire tilted his head up, watching almost in slow motion as an assortment of cheap plastoid novelty buckets shaped like the Mandalore's helmet rained down around him. They clattered around the pavement as Crossfire flicked his wrist, the whipcord yanking the Jawa along the ground to his feet. Crossfire's movement was swift as he slapped durasteel binders on the Jawa and Bothan. He couldn't understand a thing the Jawa was saying as it screamed a variety of what had to be insults, though the Bothan seemed much more docile as he phased in and out of lucidity. His HUD quickly scanned and identified the two thieves, syncing up with Crossfire's datapad to allow him to quickly tap away an incident report. He tapped a button on his inner wrist, opening up a comms channel with the rest of Mynnock Squadron. [color=00aeef]"I've got two, for petty theft, Captain. How do you want to proceed?"[/color]

[color=Lightsteelblue]"Tag and release, Lieutenant. Regs will catch them at the spaceport before they leave to collect their fine."[/color]

Crossfire nodded to himself, releasing the two thieves from their binders. They quickly scampered to their feet to scurry away. [color=00aeef]"Hold it... You've still got to return the merchandise, tourists."[/color][hr]

Crossfire gently landed on the patio of a local Clone bar called [i]The Pods[/i] that overlooked the Avenue of Fallen Kings, situated on one of the middle floors of another one of Keldabe's  many high-rise buildings. The Bar itself was still manned by a more middle-aged clone called Chip, plagued with battle scars and a robotic arm. The only other occupants of the bar were Crossfire's fellow commandoes, sporting the same blue-painted [i]beskar'gam[/i]. They had all taken off their helmets, showing off each of their strange haircuts and tattoos. Most of the Commandoes were laughing and drinking, watching the crowds and festivities below as Starfighters raced overhead. At the bar itself, one of the younger commandoes was nursing a drink. Crossfire took a seat next to him, sitting upright stiffly and keeping his helmet on.

[color=6ecff6]"You shoot any of the little imps running around yet?"[/color] The young commando took another swig of some strange blue concoction.

[color=00aeef]"We were briefed to not interfere with the New Imperials unless otherwise ordered by-"[/color]

[color=6ecff6]"It's a damn joke, rook."[/color] Crash rubbed his half-burnt left ear with his fingers before setting his drink down and removing Crossfire's helmet off for him, tossing it haphazardly aside. Crossfire immediately got up and grabbed his helmet, setting it down on the bar and returning to his seat. [color=6ecff6]"You don't have to take everything so seriously. It's Founding day... get a drink, play cards with your brothers... Ah, you know what, no. I've got it."[/color] Crash quickly stumbled out of his seat and wandered over to their Captain. After a shrug from the latter, Crash returned and pulled a small pass from a pouch on his belt. [color=6ecff6]"Here, take this."[/color]

Crossfire raised an eyebrow as he grabbed the holographic pass that read "Security" in Aurebesh. [color=00aeef]"What's this for?"[/color]

Crash smiled, placing a hand on his comrade's shoulder. [color=6ecff6]"We got a contract to provide extra security for a concert tonight, working under Clan Skirata. You're coming with me... cause if Shiri's music won't loosen you up a little, nothing will."[/color]