A blaster rifle, for it’s range and reliability.

The A280 was becoming the staple rifle in Rebel skirmishes, and for good reason. Capable of dropping a Stormtrooper in two shots if you were taking your time, five in a rush. But plastoid doesn’t so much as hold a candle to the durasteel you wore around your chest as a hefty cuirass.

You gave the soldier a once-over, E-11 standard issue blaster in hand. The grunt didn’t seem as interested on your armour as he was your blaster, and if push came to shove, it would be his downfall. Behind him, an Officer taps away on his datapad before nodding at you, “Away TK-two-one ninety. He has clearance, and if he’s smart he won’t be giving us any trouble. Isn’t that right?” The Stormtrooper lingers in your personal space for a second longer before backing to his post three paces from the door.

As you passed him, the Stormtrooper butt shoulders with you. He growled a threat that went unheard by his Officer, “That shiny helmet would look better on me, don’t give me a reason.”