[Kamino – Tipoca City – Lower Cloning Chambers – 0320 Hours]

Rain lashed the glass walkways as it always had, unrelenting and cold. Kamino never changed—but everything else had. The halls once filled with precision and quiet routine now roared with the sounds of war. Blaster fire echoed off the durasteel walls, mingling with the blaring klaxons of a base turned battlefield.

In the deep levels of the facility, once reserved for genetic engineering and rapid maturation, a rebellion had taken root. It began in whispers, exchanged behind helmets in training rooms and mess halls. Then came the quiet sabotages. A delay here, a missing shipment there. Soon, whole squads went dark, and finally, the open firefight erupted.

The clones were rebelling.

Not all of them—many still followed their programming, blindly loyal to the Empire. But enough had broken free. Enough had remembered. The Jedi they'd fought beside. The war they bled in. The promise they were made: that they were defenders of the Republic, not enforcers of tyranny.

Now, they made their stand in the shadows of their birthplace.

You crouch behind a durasteel crate near the entrance to Sub-Level 14, once a stasis chamber for accelerated growth batches. Now, it’s a rallying point for the renegades—the floor trembles with distant explosions. Smoke hangs in the air like a shroud, pierced only by flashes of red and blue blaster bolts from the firefight just one corridor over.

Your squad—what’s left of it—waits for your word. You're low on ammo, running on half a ration, and the Kaminoans have triggered some lockdown protocol. Automated turrets are active. Security droids are being deployed. And now there are whispers of a prototype clone unit—new, loyal, bred for absolute obedience—being released to clean up the mess.

A voice crackles through the comms: “Echo to all surviving cells—Sector E is secure. ARC reinforcements en route. If you’re still breathing, get moving. We hold this city or die trying.”