Dris Negan
Jedi
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.
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.