The relentless rain pounded against the platform of Kamino, the steady rhythm of drops blending with the distant rumble of thunder. Crosshair stood at the edge, his sharp gaze focused on the horizon, though his mind was far from the storm above. The report he had just received about Bracca gnawed at him, swirling like a vortex in his chest. The news that his brothers were alive—and in hiding—had thrown him off balance. But it wasn't the news of their survival that truly unsettled him; it was the revelation of Sereandre's involvement.

As the scout activated the holoprojector, the familiar image of Sereandre flickered to life, a vision that cut through the haze of his thoughts. Her face was seared into his memory, a memory laced with too many unsaid words, stolen moments, and battle scars. He had encountered her before, a figure who flitted between the shadows of Republic assignments and the grim world of bounty hunting. She had always been a mystery—dangerous, elusive, but strangely magnetic in the chaos of war.

Seeing her now, in the company of his brothers, ignited a storm within him. Crosshair had seen enough to know that old ties and allegiances were no longer a simple matter. He had sworn loyalty to the Empire, to the mission, but there was a part of him, deep in the recesses of his mind, that questioned his path. He had always been a man of duty, yet Sereandre's sudden reappearance tangled those threads of loyalty, as if everything he had fought for was suddenly in flux.

His thoughts were interrupted by the scout's words, but he barely registered them. His attention remained fixed on the hologram. Sereandre's expression was calm, but something in her posture spoke volumes—a readiness, a confidence. It had always been that way with her, an impenetrable wall that hid a deeper story, one that only time would reveal.

He nodded stiffly at the scout, acknowledging the information but barely feeling it. His mind was elsewhere, caught between past encounters and the present dilemma.

Without another word, Crosshair made his way to the chamber where Prime Minister Lama Su and Admiral Rampart were deep in discussion. As he entered, both men looked up, their expressions unreadable but clearly aware of the importance of his interruption. They were used to his presence, used to the meticulous professionalism he brought to his role. But today, the air between them was thicker, laden with unspoken questions.

Rampart's gaze hardened as he raised an eyebrow, his voice cool and indifferent. "What's the matter now?" he asked, as though Crosshair's entrance was a mere formality to be dealt with.

Crosshair didn't respond immediately. Instead, he removed his helmet, revealing the chiseled features of a face that had long been defined by duty, but now carried a weight of uncertainty. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but something behind them—a flicker of past regrets—remained hidden. He activated the holoprojector, and the image of Sereandre flickered to life between them, her presence commanding the room in an instant.

Lama Su leaned forward, his cold gaze assessing the woman in the projection. But it was Rampart's interest that was most telling. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the hologram, the recognition in his expression clear. "That's the Sereandre Hunter," Rampart mused, his voice barely hiding the intrigue. "A well-known bounty hunter. What's she doing on Bracca?"

Crosshair's fingers twitched at his side, his hands still as he deactivated the projector. His voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension that lingered in the air. "Aiding my estranged brothers, it seems." The words came out more bitter than he intended, the conflict he felt bleeding through in the faintest of cracks.

Rampart's expression shifted, his strategic mind already turning over the possibilities. "I see." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyes flicking between Crosshair and the now-dark projector. "Very well. Here's what we'll do. You'll take three troops, eliminate the opposition, and bring both the girl and Sereandre back alive." His tone was calculating, a plan already forming in his mind.

Crosshair's jaw tightened as he listened, the weight of the order pressing down on him. He could already hear the hum of blaster fire, the rush of adrenaline, and the certainty that no mission—no matter how personal—was ever simple. But this was a different kind of mission. This wasn't just about taking down enemies or completing orders. This was about bringing back someone from his past, someone whose face haunted him. Sereandre's presence on Bracca felt like an omen, one that would change everything.

With a sharp nod, Crosshair replaced his helmet, the familiar hiss of it sealing around his face like a second skin. He turned on his heel, his posture stiff with purpose, but his mind still a storm of contradictions. As he made his way out of the chamber, the echoes of past choices, past alliances, and past mistakes followed him, but he didn't stop. There was a mission to be done—and a future to be confronted.

The storm of thoughts in his mind raged on, but in the quiet moments between orders, Crosshair knew one thing for certain: this mission would not be like the others. This one had personal stakes, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for what that would mean. But he would follow through, as always. The cost of this mission was still unknown, but one thing was clear: it would be paid in full.

SCENEBVREAK

The storm raged above Bracca, the rain falling in sheets that battered the planet's wreckage-strewn surface. Sereandre stood in the hangar, tension crawling up her spine as a creeping feeling of unease gnawed at the edges of her mind. Something was wrong. It wasn't just the storm—there was something deeper, a shift in the air that felt like a prelude to disaster.

Her eyes flicked to the Marauder, nestled in the corner, and she knew that hiding was no longer enough. She activated the cloaking device with a swift motion, watching as the ship became nearly invisible under a blanket of arcane energy, its outline faint against the storm. That was her first precaution. The second was her own transformation. The air crackled as she surrendered to her primal essence, the magic coursing through her veins, changing her. She shifted, bones cracking and reshaping, fur rippling over her body until the transformation was complete.

In seconds, she stood in the form of a massive wolf, her dark fur absorbing the storm's gloom, her eyes sharp and predatory. The transformation was more than physical—it was a return to instinct, a brutal, ancient power that made her feel more alive than she had in years. She could feel the earth beneath her paws, hear the rain pelting the ground around her, and her senses sharpened to a razor's edge. Every scent, every movement in the air, became crystal clear.

Sereandre sprang into motion, bounding across the slick terrain with an agility that belied her massive size. The storm howled around her, but it was a distant sound compared to the pounding of her own heart and the drive that propelled her forward. Her goal was clear: get to the medical bay.

The path was treacherous, littered with debris from years of abandoned ships and wreckage, but she maneuvered through it effortlessly, her claws biting into the wet ground with each leap. She rounded the corner to the medical bay, where chaos greeted her.

Inside, Wrecker was locked in a vicious struggle, his blaster shots erratic as he fought against the inhibitors that had taken hold of him. Rex was already down, bloodied but conscious, his stoic demeanor now fractured with the sharp pain of his injuries. The room was a mess of scattered supplies and half-finished medical work, the air thick with tension.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sereandre surged into the room, her massive form crashing into the chaos. Her claws scraped the tile as she leaped into the fray, snarling low, a sound that sent a chill through the air. Wrecker froze, his massive body jerking back at the sight of her, his blaster momentarily wavering in his hands. The wolf's presence was commanding, and even the big man—used to every kind of threat—couldn't help but flinch.

"Wrecker!" Sereandre's voice was a low growl, filled with warning and command, her deep timbre reverberating through the space. It was enough to halt his frantic movements, and just as quickly, she lunged.

Her body slammed into his, sending him tumbling to the ground in a heap. The impact was more than enough to knock him out cold, but she didn't stop there. She stood over him, eyes scanning his prone form to ensure he wasn't permanently hurt. She could feel his pulse beneath the thick muscle of his neck, steady but slowed by the blow.

Omega's voice came from behind a stack of fallen supplies, frantic and muffled. "Don't hurt him!" she called out, her small body visible only by her frantic movement.

Sereandre's eyes softened for a brief moment, but she was resolute. Wrecker needed to be stopped, and there wasn't time to ease him gently out of his frenzy. She stepped back, her form still poised, watching him carefully.

Hunter and Echo moved quickly to collect Wrecker, the two of them falling into a practiced rhythm as they moved him onto a stretcher. Omega hovered nearby, her eyes glued to Wrecker's unconscious form, full of concern and fear.

Sereandre shifted her focus, the transformation still a fresh sensation that hummed under her skin. Her lupine form was a perfect balance of power and grace, but it wasn't her true self—only a part of her, a tool she had learned to wield when necessary. She could feel the shift in her mind as she glanced down at Omega, whose nervous eyes met hers. The girl's gaze softened with wonder, though it was clear she still didn't fully understand the depth of Sereandre's power.

"Sere?" Omega's voice wavered slightly, the word a question filled with both awe and fear.

Sereandre lowered her head in a gentle nod, her dark eyes holding an intensity that somehow conveyed calm despite the chaos. It was a silent affirmation—a message that despite her terrifying form, she was still their ally.

Hunter raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the situation, his gaze flicking from Sereandre's wolf form to Rex, who had managed to sit up with a grimace. "Since when could Sere do that?" he asked, voice laced with both disbelief and a hint of respect.

Rex chuckled weakly, clutching his side as he leaned back against the wall. His eyes, filled with weariness, softened as they settled on Sereandre. "Once, she took out an entire squadron of droids like this," he said, his tone light despite the sharp pain in his voice. He smiled, a wry, pained grin as he reached out to rub the top of Sereandre's head, despite her intimidating size. "It's a little scary... but honestly, it's kind of like having a giant puppy around."

The humor was a brief reprieve, and the sound of it was grounding, a reminder that even in the middle of everything, there were moments of connection. Moments of comfort.

Sereandre's form relaxed, the tension in her muscles easing as she nudged Rex's hand with her head. In that small, tender action, the intensity of the moment shifted. She was their protector, their shield. And no matter the chaos that surrounded them, she would remain a steadfast part of their family, bound not just by mission, but by something deeper.

SCENEBREAK

Sereandre stood on the ramp of the Marauder, the rain beating down in sheets around them. The storm outside mirrored the turmoil inside her heart as she watched Rex prepare to leave. They had both known this moment was coming, but it didn't make it any easier to face.

She stepped forward, her large form casting a shadow across the ramp as she moved toward him. Rex, always the composed one, looked at her with an unreadable expression, but his eyes softened as she closed the distance. Without a word, she pulled him into a tight hug, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill of the storm.

Rex stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard, but then his arms wrapped around her in return. The gesture was simple but spoke volumes. Sereandre could feel the weight of their past, the countless missions and battles they had fought together, all of it swirling between them in the silence. His scent—earthy, familiar, and comforting—flooded her senses, grounding her even as she felt the pang of his departure.

"It was good to see you again, Sereandre," Rex muttered against her shoulder, his voice husky. "I really hope it won't be the last time."

Sereandre's heart tightened at his words, but she held him tighter, pressing her cheek against his. "I'll be here," she whispered, her voice low but firm. "I'll be waiting for the day we can fight together again."

For a long moment, they stood there, the rain falling in steady sheets around them, neither one willing to let go. But eventually, Rex pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders, and for a brief second, their eyes met—both of them carrying unspoken promises and regrets.

Then, with a final nod, Rex turned and walked away, disappearing into the storm. Sereandre stayed there a moment longer, her heart aching with the distance between them, but a part of her felt reassured. She would stay with Hunter and the rest of the batch, but Rex would always be part of her—no matter how far apart they were.

As the ramp slowly closed, sealing her inside with the others, she couldn't help but wonder what the future would hold. But for now, she would keep moving forward, just as she always had.

Hunter approached Sereandre as she watched the ramp close, her thoughts lingering on Rex. With a small smirk, he spoke, "So, you and him... hug it out, huh?"

Sereandre chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Once, maybe," she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. "But now? I've got you guys."

She turned to face him, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Now, let's get this big haul done. We've got work to do."

Hunter's smile widened, a sense of relief settling over him. Despite the tension of the mission, there was something reassuring about having Sereandre by their side. Sure, he loved his brothers—he'd die for them—but there was a quiet comfort in knowing that Sereandre, with her own strength and fierce loyalty, was here too.

He couldn't deny that there was a small, selfish part of him that didn't want to let her go. If she ever did leave, it would be hard to replace the dynamic she'd brought to the team. She'd become an irreplaceable part of the batch, an anchor in a world that was constantly shifting.

"Right behind you," Hunter said, stepping forward with a nod. He clapped Sereandre on the shoulder, his smile genuine, though his thoughts drifted back to Rex for just a moment. They all had their battles, their losses, but for now, they were a team, and that was what mattered.