Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters that are from BTVS/SG1/SW
Story made possible with permission from the Dark Scribbler, author of Jedi Harris and Terran Jedi. Thank you for letting me play in your alternate universe or is it sub-verse. This is my first attempt to write and I am working from inspiration from all the excellent authors here.
Secret Service agents rush toward the main underground doorway. Last guardians to the Presidential bunker beneath the White House. U.S. Army, Marines, and Air Force troops are also present and guard fall back positions along the hall. Desks and tables become makeshift barricades. Firearms ranging from M60 machine guns, M16 rifles with grenade launchers, to small caliber pistols bracket the target zone. As with all battles, the waiting is the worst part.
“All remaining stations report in.” He states in a calmness that hides his true feelings.
“Station Alpha clear. Station Bravo clear.” Come the numerous replies.
“How did this happen boss? It can’t be real, maybe it’s a drill?” cries a trooper.
“It’s no drill Sergeant.” Says U.S. Air Force Brigadier General Armstrong. “But I wish it was. This attack took everyone by surprise. We can’t even get the President out. We have to hold for reinforcements and pray someone comes.”
“Contact at Station Alpha! Bravo reporting we’re under fire!” comes from the headsets and then static.
“Shit! All transmissions are being jammed! All communication systems are down.”
“Prepare to repel intruders! Don’t let them through!” shouts General Armstrong. Hoping in his heart that this is not a reenactment of either Little Big Horn or a movie scene that has slowly become a realistic nightmare.
“Remember to shield your eyes from flash bangs!”
The doorway flares to light as a cutting beam tears through the door. Cries of disbelief echo from the everyone as the beam slices through inches of reinforced steel, as the door is cut apart, and explodes inward, smoke blanks the area. Shadows move through the opening.
The General gives the order to fire and the entrance way is bracketed by firepower that would stop any normal foe. Unfortunately, the shadows move through the smoke effortlessly as sparks show the accuracy of their fire. The front line shadowy figures stagger from the deadly fire but do not fall.
Curses and cries of dismay echo from the defenders as one shadow is followed by another. The responding fire is unlike anything the troops have ever seen before at least unless you count the movies. Red bolts of plasma and the sound that most of the troops recognize from a movie blaze forth from the shadows. As the intruders move beyond the smoke, the form of imperial stormtroopers advances forward. Unlike the movie, these troops blaster fire is accurate. The forward line of defenders is ruthlessly gunned down.
Shocked and awed by the image, the defenders gunfire slows.
“Guns aren’t working! We can’t stop them!”
Surprised but always the professional, the General shouts, “Use grenades!” A trooper fires an M203 into the doorway. But as the explosive shell flies forward it changes trajectory and returns to the sender unexpectedly! Several Secret Service Agents along with the trooper are caught in the blast.
“Retreat to fall back positions!” orders a shaken sergeant.
Like professionals they are, the troops and agents slowly fall back. Unfortunately, their foe is not so accommodating as another form joins and quickly moves through the smoke covered entrance. The figure in black contrasting with the white of his troops leaps forward. Landing gracefully behind the agents and troops. The knowledge of impending doom falls upon hearts of every defender. As if time slows for a moment, the poor victims stare in disbelief as the figure produces a red blazing sword…a light sabers, a weapon that everyone recognizes from a beloved movie, the weapon of a Sith. The blade moves with inhuman grace and speed and in a blink of an eye two agents and two soldiers lose their head.
The beleaguered troops that initially survived the stormtroopers blaster fire are frozen in fear. Their professionalism at war with the reality of what they are witnessing. A Sith has come into their midst and begun to decimate everyone within reach.
A battle that felt like hours is over in minutes, a defensive station that was meant to hold for a time falls before foes that is from a story of fiction.
General Armstrong finds himself alone as everyone in his command is quickly cut down. He tries to bring his pistol to bear on the swiftly moving Sith and pain fills his mind as his pistol and fingers separate along with his hand as the red blade quickly appears in his face.
“Greetings General.” The dark figure calmly says.
“Damn you, Harris, you won’t get away with this. You won’t win.” Retorts General Armstrong.
“I prefer the name Darth Mortalis, General. And I already have.” Replies the onetime Xander Harris of Sunnydale, California.
Pain and darkness is the last thing General Armstrong feels as his life ends.