The galaxy's twilight had a way of signaling trouble before it fully unfolded, and today was no exception. Above the horizon, the Confederacy navy emerged from hyperspace like a predatory beast slipping through the tall grass. Ships of sleek, angular design cut through the void, their hulls reflecting the cold gleam of distant stars. At the helm of this metallic armada stood General Grievous, his mechanical frame a patchwork of menace and malice.

Grievous was no stranger to impatience, and his talons drummed against the console with an irritable, hollow clang. The commando droids stationed below should have reported by now. Yet, the channels buzzed with static—silence that spoke volumes. Grievous's metallic growl rippled through the bridge, a sound that made even the most loyal droids flinch.

"No response," one of the tactical droids confirmed, its monotone voice doing little to soothe its master's boiling frustration.

Grievous didn't waste time on theatrics; his wrath was sharp and pragmatic. If the commandos had failed, it meant one thing: resistance. The faint pulse of life forms flickering on the scanners below all but confirmed it.

"Send reinforcements," he snarled, his voice a jagged symphony of disdain. His glowing eyes narrowed as he gazed down at the planet's surface, as if willing the very ground to submit. "I want this infestation of clones eradicated. Leave nothing standing."

From the belly of the fleet, transport shuttles roared to life, spilling forth a fresh wave of droids like ants swarming from a disturbed hive. Their ranks were bolstered this time—no simple foot soldiers, but heavies, tactical units, and hulking spider droids bristling with firepower. The dropships tore through the atmosphere in tight formation, their engines screaming like banshees, casting ominous shadows over the outpost below.

The Confederacy wasn't just reinforcing; they were sending a message. A cold, mechanical declaration that resistance was futile. For Grievous, this wasn't merely a battle; it was a performance, and the galaxy was his unwilling audience. Yet, down on the surface, among the smoke and rubble, a defiant ember burned—a stubborn refusal to bow to the tyranny descending from the skies.

Down on the ground, the tension pressed against your skin like a humid storm about to break. The air tasted of ash and smoke, and the distant whine of descending dropships signaled the Confederacy reinforcements closing in. You could feel the hum of danger deep in your chest as you surveyed the battlefield ahead. The clones were already forming up, their movements precise, their faces grim under their helmets. This wasn't going to be easy.

You exhaled slowly, hissing through your teeth as you drew your lightsaber with a sharp, familiar snap-hiss. The brilliant blade ignited, casting a green glow across the shadows. "Dank farrik," you muttered under your breath, the sound low enough that only those closest to you could hear. "This is gonna get hard."

Rex stood beside you, his expression solid as durasteel. His blaster was raised, his eyes scanning the ridgeline for incoming threats. "Wouldn't be a proper fight if it wasn't," he said with a slight smirk, his calm demeanor as reassuring as ever.

Before you could reply, Heavy approached with the kind of energy that suggested he'd already been brewing up a reckless plan. His hefty frame moved with purpose, his helmet slightly askew as he practically skidded to a stop in front of you.

"How about this," Heavy said, his voice buzzing with adrenaline. "We take the liquid tibanna reserves in the base and blow the whole thing to hell."

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow, and he held up a finger before you could object.

"Hear me out! It'd disrupt their all-clear signal, right? No signal, no reinforcements coming in clean, which means the Republic gets a big ol' heads-up. And it'll be one hell of a message to Grievous—he'll know we're not rolling over for him."

You couldn't help but let the corner of your mouth twitch into a small grin at Heavy's enthusiasm. "You've been thinking about this for all of, what, thirty seconds?"

Heavy gave a shrug that was almost bashful. "That's more than long enough for brilliance."

Rex snorted. "It's definitely loud enough for a distraction. Question is, can we pull it off without getting fried?"

"Fried, shot, blown up," Heavy replied with a wide grin, "it's all part of the fun."

You shook your head, the weight of responsibility tugging at you as you considered the idea. "It's risky," you admitted, glancing around at the clones, their trust in you reflected in their steady gazes. But then, that spark of defiance flickered in your chest again. "But risky might be exactly what we need."

Rex nodded sharply, his face hardening. "Then let's get it done. No time to waste."

With that, you turned back to the clones, the green light of your saber cutting through the thickening haze as you prepared to move. Heavy's grin widened as he hefted his gear, muttering something about how they'd better have a good view when the place lit up like a star going nova.

SCENEBREAK

You saw the droids marching toward you, their formation sharp and unrelenting. The air buzzed with tension, and you hissed softly, "Let's make sure they don't take this place back."

Your voice was low, but there was an edge to it, something feral, as you flicked your hand. Sparks of magic danced along your claws, crackling with an energy that made the air feel heavy. Then, with a surge of raw power, the ground beneath your feet trembled, and the entire base seemed to shudder as if responding to your will.

Rex and the others staggered, their boots sliding on the suddenly unstable ground. A shout echoed—maybe it was Cody or Jesse—but the clones yelped as the walls themselves seemed to peel away from reality.

"What are you doing, Chancellor?" Heavy barked, his voice almost lost amidst the chaos. His wide eyes darted between you and the swirling energy that was now engulfing the base.

You smiled—something sharp and knowing—as your tail lashed out, coiling effortlessly around the nearest troopers. You hauled them all close, their armor clanking together as they stared at you in disbelief. The power radiating off you wasn't just unfamiliar; it was otherworldly.

They'd never seen you like this before: cloaked in mystery, your presence commanding, almost divine. The flickering light of your magic cast eerie shadows across their faces, making even Rex, calm and steady as ever, blink in awe.

Before they could say another word, the air around you solidified into a shimmering sphere of energy, a barrier of pure force that hummed with your intent. The base beneath you groaned, the structure crumbling as though crushed by an invisible hand.

The droids still on the platform didn't stand a chance. You didn't even look back as the collapse swallowed them, the noise of destruction deafening. The sphere held firm, lifting you and the troopers through the crumbling roof and out into the open air.

For a moment, there was only silence as you hovered above the ruins, the vast emptiness of space stretching out around you. The clones clung to you, their expressions ranging from shock to awe, unable to reconcile the leader they thought they knew with the sheer force of nature they had just witnessed.

"Next stop," you murmured, a small, satisfied grin curling your lips, "anywhere but here."

With a beat of your wings—or perhaps just the thought of movement—you propelled the sphere forward, leaving the shattered remains of the outpost far behind.