(A/N) Hello friends. I just needed to vent some action into a fic. This stands as a short-series. Maybe two to three chapters top. The story-line is just an alternant universe where a suburban area has been taken over by rebels. The story line is not the important part, though it still plays it's role in the mini story, really it's about the feel and action.

Well… enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Rat and Clank… Insomniac Games does, I do, however, own the ideas entitled to the story.

Enjoy… and leave a review

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The yellow Lombax swallowed hard and made sure his helmet was on tight. He reached under his chin and fumbled with the sturdy black strap. Snapping it shut, tightening, and re-snapping. Repeating the process only out of sheer anxiety. He tapped the top of his head feeling his sand yellow camouflaged helmet, his gloved hands feeling the rough exterior of what his other army fellows called, their "cans".

He looked out the open door of his squad's transport chopper. He saw nothing but the barren desert that was Veldin. The yellow sand radiated light, making him shield his eyes. He heard nothing but the loud roar of the soldier transport chopper's engines.

He peered outside the window and noticed their altitude off of the ground was slightly decreasing.

His squad leader, Lieutenant Marcus Zarmock, turned his head from the front of the bird (transport chopper) to yell a few words. The Lombax picked up nothing of his message, his ears being constantly pounded by the engine's screams, but the lieutenant's two fingers being raised assured him that they had two minutes to touchdown.

The man's heart sank.

They were most definitely Veldin bound.

The war had been raging for the past few months, the rebellion versus the prestige Galactic Army. The outbreaks, at first, were small and seldom, but with the growing number of protestors it soon became a full fledged war. The militias became armed with weapons ranging from semi-automatic pistols to anti-air and tank missiles. They were truly a force to be messed with. The Galactic army almost always had the upper hand, and contained the conflict to a small town on the outskirts of the Veldian oceans. Strategically for the rebels it was a nicely located outpost, but as far as being a last resort home-land, it was like being backed into a corner.

Surely if the Galactic Army won this battle it would all be over… and our little yellow friend could safely call it home again.

The thing being what set the rebels off was the lack of support from the Galactic Empire (Government system). They (That specific part of the desert planet) wanted formal acceptance into the large union of The Galactic Empire, but due to extreme amounts of violence and crime, the poor section of the hot planet was left to help for themselves.

In desperate cries of anger, the people of that small community grew widespread, and began annexing more places to call home. First they had small villages and that spread to communities and then entire cities. It was, at that moment in time, the call out for the Galactic Army's finest to shine, retaking city after city until the firefights were condensed to the last remaining 'empire' of the rebels.

The soldier snapped out of his trance and focused once again and focused on what was ahead.

He threw a glance at Zarmock once again. The tall read dragon like creature was an aquatos native, but being part of the Army threw him in ever which way. He looked a little shifty, twitching lightly every few seconds, his trigger finger was itching to shoot the rebels who were just so willing to try and kill his men. He noticed the Lieutenant throwing glances at the rest of his fine tuned squad. Fox Trot consisted of eight men including the dragon himself. They were armed with one sniper, two anti-armor men, one heavy machine gunner and four assault infantry units.

The nervous Lombax switched glances from his leader to the outside where he saw two other transport helicopters float by. They were all a menacing black, designed sleekly. They were of good capacity, normally holding eight soldiers (not including the pilot). It wasn't five star leather they sat on, but like anyone cared what they felt minutes before their lives could be taken away.

He could see the oncoming city, it looked much smaller than he had first expected. He saw a few towering buildings and structures; good sniper positions, he pointed out to himself.

He took another glance down to the sandy surface they were hovering above to see Bravo Company rolling in with tanks and Humvees.

The strike was coordinated, as every attack. Yet at the same time it lacked, they were told to breach the right flank of the industrious city and help make a backwards push. Yet that's all the Lombax was told. His leader, of course, knew the finer tactics to the plan, but like any battle… who the hell knows what is going to go down.

He took a small folded piece of paper out from his pocket and took a final glance at it. In the center of the paper stood a Cazar of his height and age. He looked at the beautiful glint of her eyes and choked down tears. He rubbed his thumb over the photograph and said a few words. He kissed the picture lightly and then refolded the paper and slipped it in his Kevlar plated armor again.

He snapped to attention as he heard the muffled, "CHECK YOUR RIFLES." That came from his leader.

He swung the rifle from behind his back and checked it all. He quickly tapped the cocking bolt of his assault rifle and then attached and reattached the sleek curved magazine from his gun a few times. He looked down the iron sights of the gun and quickly tapped the safety switch. He looked at his waist, making sure his fragmentation grenades were all securely placed. His next step was his standard issue twelve round pistol. He pulled the slide back, checking for possible jams and slapped off the safety switch.

Ratchet was ready to kill.

Ratchet noticed the other choppers stop at the beginning of the city and dropped off their soldiers, the tanks leading the way. He saw the ant like figures scatter for cover as led was already being shot from both forces.

As their chopper headed off for the western flank, he heard the tank cannons boom off, the shells slamming against walls that lay in their path. He saw the anti-tank missiles slam into the Army's tank sides. It was obvious the opposition didn't have any heavy armor, or it would've been on the frontlines already.

The thought tolled Ratchet's mind… what if they knew of a western flank. Surely, if they wanted to, they could destroy him and make a B-line to the frontal assault.

He shook his head roughly as his squad's chopper began ascending. He was point-man for the drop off. The Lieutenant screamed GO a few times and ratchet slid from the giant chopper to the ground via rope. He dropped off a few feet and met the hot sand with a thud. He quickly rolled and checked the entrance to the city for hostiles as the rest of his allies dropped in behind him. Zarmock approached Ratchet from behind and tapped him on the shoulder lightly, signaling for him to come to ease.

Ratchet removed his eye from the sight of his iron scope and turned around wearily to face the rest of his squad.

They had been dropped off twenty yards from what marked the city's limits. Directly behind the gates that marked the city lay an urban alley of nothing but yellow. It was their one entrance to the city. The wind kicked up the dirt occasionally as the squad began their outlook on the situation.

Zarmock was the first to speak, "Alright boys… well here we are, Veldin's scenic most fabulous vacation hotspot." He began dripping with sarcasm. Ratchet gripped his rifle checking over his shoulder periodically out of stress as he continued. "You all know exactly what we're to do. Spot targets and shoot the bastards. Pump as much led as you would like, theirs always enough to go around for scrubs like these." He roared to his squad. The only thing really audible was the gunfire being heard in the distance, other than that, it felt like a ghost town. "We're going through THAT alley." He once again began, pointing to the alley behind the Lombax. "After that we'll head down to the south, for a more vantigable point."

One of the privates, a young Cazar no more than nineteen years of age, cut in—"But sir." He began shakily, "Won't that put us even farther from our men… and tanks?" he probed questionably.

"Boy it's a damned good thing you can shoot that rifle well." Zarmock said hastily, "Because you sure as hell don't use that brain much. OF course we'll be farther. We were trained to do the hard stuff normal soldiers don't do. We're giving rear support alone. We have no allies in this fire fight. Is that understood?" He said cocking an eye at the nervous soldier.

"Yes sir…" He said lowly.

"Well then, if we're all clear on the situation, let's haul ass, men!" He said encouragingly.

The entire squad belted a low "Hoo Rah" in response to his speech.

Ratchet, once again on point, began walking into the alley first. He slammed his back against the yellow wall of the ally and slowly slid around the edge so he could slip an eye out to see if there were any tangos. He quickly thrusted his body onto the other side of the wall and went into a crouch position. He signaled an all clear and the rest of the men began crossing the street, away from their allies.

They continued this process for half an hour until their first contact was met.

Ratchet crouched from behind a wall and peered at a solid group of three soldiers, blissfully unaware of Ratchet's existence, a mere fifty yards away.

He shot back to behind the wall and held up three fingers and waved them in the direction of the enemy position. The Lieutenant gave him the guns free signal and two other assault men closed in behind Ratchet. He noticed what looked to be a snack or clothes stand, not more than five meters from the wall they were hiding behind. He peered over and pointed to it, showing that the two should his cover there while the others stayed behind cover. Exposing your whole unit against a smaller one was rarely a good idea, for the lack of space and time made it more clustered and grouped.

Ratchet fell to the floor on his stomach and slowly prodded his rifle from the outside of the corner. He exposed but one foot of his body. He slowly crawled on his stomach to the point of his head and right shoulder being exposed… and with that he opened fire.

The loud pops of the rifle went off as shells were ejected from the small opening slot on the side. His initials shots were all misses but it gave the other two men just enough time to slip in behind the stall and help with the firefight.

Off the initial break the Veldian rebels were confused, just as they wanted them to be. Two of the three hit the dirt in an attempt to locate the soldiers whom were shooting at them, the third rebel hid behind another alley on the opposite side of the dirty street from Ratchet.

Ratchet's second round of burst fires managed to clip one of the rebels in the shoulder, causing him to scream out in pain and roll over clutching his right shoulder. Startled, the hit rebel's friend moved over to him, taking a bullet in the back of the leg while other fragments of led danced around him and his buddy.

In hearing his friend scream the alley hidden rebel popped out and squeezed off a few rounds nearly hitting Ratchet. The bullets skipped off the wall he was behind as Ratchet began pursuing the target.

"TANGO, Left street alley!" He screamed to his mates over the pop of automated rifles. His two friends quickly adjusted their sights now opening fire at the tight corner the opposing man was hiding behind.

Unaware of his sudden movements, one of the soldiers stepped out from behind the stand, just slightly so that the rebel clipped him in the leg.

He hollered, "HIT!" as his body hit the hot street. The other soldier he shot with was quick to finally dispatch of the alley covered soldier.

The other two quickly threw their rifles and raised their hands in a sign of surrendering.

"Sir, They're giving up!" Ratchet yelled at Zarmock.

"Good! Apprehend them with caution!" The dragon warned as he moved over to his hit man. He dropped to his knees and looked at the dazed soldier. He looked to be fine, nothing more than stunned. "Y' alright, son?" he asked placing a hand on the ground next to him.

The soldier looked down at his leg. There were no signs of blood, or bullet wound at all. "Yes sir." He muttered as he sat up and shook off the dirt. "I guess the plate absorbed the impact…" He said motioning towards the metal plate that covered his kneecap.

"And you said it was a worthless piece of equipment." His friend chuckled and offered the soldier a helping hand up.

Meanwhile, Ratchet captured the two rebels and radioed in with the news.

He was informed to tie them to leave them in a secluded location for later pickup. He did as he was told and tied them up to a post in the alley.

Ratchet then looked over and his stomach turned as he saw the body of the dead man that once was shooting at him.

He felt remorse as he looked at the dead creature. The man's thoughts almost filling Ratchet's own… he had helped take a life.

This feeling was of no newness to the Lombax… for he had helped in the killings of many rebels… but it hit him every time, nonetheless.

"Good job, kid." Zarmock said as Ratchet returned. "How was fight one, boys?" he said moving onward. "Still plenty more to go…"

And with that, the eight men moved on hopelessly into the abandoned city… unaware of what would lie ahead in their hot leaded travels…

(A/N) Woo! Well, That was fun! This is just something to keep the juices flowing in my brain. Don't forget to review, guys! I hope you liked it! Still more to come.