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Crazy.

Dris Negan

Jedi
Writer
Outskirts of Mos Espa- Tatooine

Fundamentals.

The art of shooting so often overlooked by gangland soldiers and the galaxy at large. The fact was, shooting accurately isn't some godsend gift that is almost uncommon for others to be able to master. All you have to teach a being is the fundamentals. Most of the rest of it is style.

Breath.

Squeeze.

Sight picture.

Follow through.

So easy to end a life. To change history, for better or worse.

Pretty crazy, right?

These were Senior Agent Negan's thoughts as he sat in his crow's nest, nestled tightly between the folds of a derelict warehouse on the edge of a dune. Abandoned after repeated safety violations and an issue with bringing water in.The building granted him a clear line of sight to where a Republic Intel Agent supposedly made drops twice a week. High Com had gotten hold of the data through one of their moles and decided that Dris would be the perfect man to end this Agent's life.

Duty. Funny little thing it was.

Dris adjusted his tan colored bandana and gazed through his sniper's high powered scope. The target would be arriving soon. They'd receive a swift end in the form of PBI caused by a 7.62mm entering and exiting their skull at a high rate of speed.

He smiled as he thought of how much he currently looked like his Special Forces comrades he constantly berated for not being able to blend into a crowd. Now he'd adopted their garb to look like sand.

Funny little thing.
 

Julius Sterling

The Good, the Bad, and the Droid
Character
Das a very well qualified bounty hunter, according to his corrupt memory banks, P1R673 wasn’t afraid to take on any sort of contract that it came across. This was certainly one that wasn’t registering as an experience in the mixture of its real memories and the memories stolen from the lives of the people he had accompanied during its operating life. There was too many credits involved to pass up the option and that had sent the very clearly human, though not at all, bounty hunter into action.

A heavy poncho and a pair of loose fitting pants kept its mechanical nature hidden from view. Up and out of the poncho, strapped to the droid’s body, was an artificial head wrapped in fabric to hide the fake nature of it with a pair of goggles and a woven hat resting atop of it. The moment P1R673 spoke it was given away that it was either a cyborg of some sorts or a droid if its disguise hadn’t already been seen through from subtle movements.

On the prowl, however, as it was nearly impossible to tell it wasn’t a human and that was just how it was now. The job was to retrieve a drop from a specified location. The task was particularly easy and P1R673 was not going to pass up something so obviously simple, and clearly not suspiciously overpaid, that promised such a grand amount of credits. So the droid trudged through the sand to the destination where it paused at the target and observed the area around it.

Suspicion? Not at all, just a check to ensure the proper location prior to it knelt down and pulled away the rock cover for the drop. There was no item within and the droid reached down to dig harder into the clay area, breaking it up in its attempt to find something that was supposed to be there. P1R673's memory banks worked to try and comprehend the situation while fighting against the particularly poor day, comparatively, when it came to the corruption that ran untamed through its thoughts.

@[member="Dris Negan"]
 

Dris Negan

Jedi
Writer
@[member="P1R673"]

Dris's vision shifted slightly as a small section of a clothed figure glimpsed the edge of his scope. He raised an eyebrow and shifted the rifle slightly until the figure was in full vision. Odd. That was the location of the drop. Who the hell was that? Dris had been given a description of the target and the clothes that the Agent typically wore and this being showed none of the signs.

While it was possible the intel had been off the source had always been spot on in the past. The figure began to dig into the drop's location. Dris had to make a decision.

He centered on the figure's poncho and fired two rounds.
 
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