Trooper LSOP-962, nicknamed “Wolf,” was a guard assigned to the region around Michelle Benoit’s holding cell. When a fiery redheaded resistance pilot showed up to rescue Commander Benoit, Wolf decided it was in his best interest to desert and join the Resistance.
Scarlet cautiously made her way through the hallways of the vast ship, listening for hostile marching or treads of droids that guarded the ship. She peered around the corner and luckily saw nothing but an empty hallway.
She pressed a button on her communicator to pull up the map once more, making sure that she was going the right direction.
“Two more lefts and then an elevator,” she whispered to herself. She hated elevators in these situations. You never knew what you would find on the other side.
The elevator door opened, and to Scarlet’s dismay, two troopers stepped out and made their way down the hall. She waited for them to pass before she leapt out, knocking the butt of her gun against one’s chin and cracking it against the top of the other’s helmet, smiling as they both crumpled to the ground.
After struggling to strip the armor off of the shorter one and fit it onto herself, she dragged their unconscious bodies to the nearest vent and hid them inside. She adjusted the armor and jammed the helmet onto her head, stuffing her red curls inside and cursing the way they seemed to have been designed to blind the wearers before heading into the elevator.
Anxiety crept in as she descended. If they caught her, the mission was blown and the resistance would be even worse off than they already were.
But she wasn't called their best pilot for nothing.
The door slid open and Scarlet stepped out onto the prison deck, noting the two officers at the control center. She started to head down the hall, deciding she would figure out a plan on her way down the hall.
“Hey,” one of the officers stopped her.
“Sir?”
“Where are you going?”
“Uh...guard exchange,” she said, cringing behind the helmet. She had definitely blown it.
“Carry on,” the officer said, and Scarlet blanched, gulped, nodded, and stifled the urge to laugh as she continued down the hall. How had that worked?
She tried to inconspicuously peer through the peepholes in the gates, attempting to see who was inside, but none of them seemed to be Commander Michelle Benoit. Row after row of occupied cells, Scarlet began to feel like she was getting lost in a maze.
“You lost?”
Scarlet practically jumped out of her skin. A rather tall stormtrooper stood at the end of the row, staring straight at her.
“Your hair’s falling out of your helmet. Breaking regulation.”
“Shit.” Scarlet instinctively drew her gun.
“Who are you looking for?” he asked, hands raised above his head to show he meant no harm.
“Why do you care?” she shot back, tensing as he slowly removed his helmet. He had shaggy dark hair and his olive skin was decorated with all sorts of scars. Even from a distance, his eyes were a striking shade of green. He set the helmet on the ground and kept his hands raised.
“You’re resistance, aren't you?”
Scarlet didn't answer.
“I’m not going to turn you in.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” she scoffed.
“I can help you,” he said. “If you can help me.”
“What could you possibly need?”
“You do realize that we’re human underneath the helmet, don’t you?” he stared at her. “Are you going to shoot me if I put my arms down?”
Scarlet lowered her weapon, but not her guard. “I’m looking for Commander Michelle Benoit.”
“Benoit...she’ll be this way. Put your helmet back on. Is she also Resistance?”
“Why are you helping me?” Scarlet asked, trotting after him.
“I need to get out of here,” he replied.
“You’re deserting?”
He didn't answer. Instead, he unlocked a door on his left to reveal Commander Michelle Benoit lounging inside.
