[Episode V - NR][O12 - Gyndine - AI] No Warmth in Justice

No Warmth in Justice

The canal carved through Gyndine’s old districts like a frozen scar, its black waters choked with drifting slabs of ice. Beneath the aqueduct, darkness pooled thick and absolute. Above, the narrow walkway lay quiet—too quiet—save for the faint creak of old stone and the distant hum of the city. The small hardware shop stood shuttered, its metal grates half-frosted, holo-signs shut off, while the ancient bell tower loomed overhead, Imperial guards pacing along its upper arches and across the bridge.

They never looked down.

On a slow-moving slab of ice, barely distinguishable from the frozen debris, a rebel operative knelt, frost clinging to his gear as he steadied a compact rocket launcher. Breath slow. Aim steady. Waiting.

In the shadows near the aqueduct’s mouth, two figures in worn but unmistakable ARGO-pattern gear crouched beside the waiting rebels. Their insignia had been stripped, but their movements were precise, disciplined—Rangers. They exchanged a glance with the team handling the coaxium canisters, then shifted their attention toward the tower.

Around the corner from the shuttered shop, another group pressed tightly against the cold stone, weapons ready. Among them stood Jula Garlon, her face set, her posture calm but coiled. Once ARGO, now wanted by them. She checked her weapon, then glanced toward the canal, trusting the unseen operative to begin it.

To anyone watching—any Imperial sensor feed, any panicked report filtering upward—it would look the same: ARGO Industries had taken a side.

They hadn’t.

Somewhere far from Gyndine, ARGO leadership would already be receiving fractured reports—unauthorized deployments, recognizable equipment, their name dragged into a conflict they had no intention of joining. Furious voices. Demands for clarification. Orders issued too late.

Here, none of that mattered.

A few civilians huddled in doorways along the walkway, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their eyes darted between the guards above and the frozen canal below, sensing the moment about to break.
On the ice, the rebel exhaled—and fired.

The rocket screamed upward, tearing through the night before slamming into the bell tower in a violent bloom of fire and stone. The upper guard vanished in the explosion, and the tower trembled as debris rained down.
Chaos followed instantly.

Blaster fire erupted across the bridge as Imperial guards scrambled, shouting over one another. From the aqueduct, rebels surged forward with coaxium canisters. The ARGO rangers moved with them—sharp, efficient—covering angles, directing fire, turning the push into something coordinated and deadly.

“Now!” Jula snapped.

From the corner of the shop, her team broke cover, weapons blazing. She moved with them, precise and relentless, cutting through the confusion as the Imperials struggled to regain control.

Below, the operative slipped from the ice into the freezing water as return fire lanced downward, vanishing beneath the surface just as bolts scorched the slab.
Above, the tower burned.

And in the confusion—in the fractured comms and shouted reports—one detail spread faster than the rest:
ARGO was here.

Not officially. Not sanctioned. But unmistakable.

And by the time ARGO leadership could deny it, the galaxy would already believe it.

///

Thanks for watching and reading.. This MOC outgrew my ambitions 😆!! A big reason I didn't get to do one for Sarapin. Anyways - this was really fun to do! Let me know what you thing. More photos below.