The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos—blaster fire, shouts, and the relentless metallic clatter of approaching droids. Captain Rex crouched behind a half-destroyed barricade, his helmet visor scanning the field as the 501st held their ground against another wave of Separatist droids. The sun overhead cast long shadows across the ruined cityscape, and the air smelled of scorched metal and burning ozone.

“They’re flanking us!” shouted Fives, his voice barely audible over the din. He pointed toward a crumbling building where a squad of BX-series droid commandos was scaling the walls, their movements too precise to be anything but trouble.
Rex’s focus shifted to General Skywalker, who was standing in the open, his lightsaber a blur of blue as he deflected blaster bolts with practiced ease.

“General Skywalker!” Rex called through his comm. “We can’t hold this line much longer. We’re running low on ammo, and the droids keep coming!”

Anakin deflected another bolt and turned briefly toward Rex, his expression set with grim determination. “We hold until Obi-Wan gets here, Captain!”

“With all due respect, General, that’s not much of a plan if we run out of men first,” Rex shot back, his tone sharper than usual.

“We’re not running out of men!” Anakin growled, slicing through a B2 super battle droid. “We’re just getting started!”

Nearby, Ahsoka was mid-leap, cutting down a droideka’s shield generator before landing with a roll. “Captain, can’t you see? The General’s ‘plan’ is to improvise!” she said with a touch of sarcasm, even as she spun to deflect incoming fire.

Rex clenched his jaw behind his helmet. He respected both Jedi, but their optimism didn’t always match the grim realities the troopers faced. “Improvise isn’t a strategy, Commander,” he muttered under his breath.