A figure watched with cold, calculating eyes watched from the shadows. A small detachment of storm troopers, clad in the upgraded version of their white battle armor, emerged from a landed shuttle craft. This was Tatooine, a parched desert planet on the far outskirts of civilization. This was a planet controlled by the warlords known as the Hutts. Even a shuttlecraft landing on the far edges of town would not escape their attention.
They had gotten permission to be here. And if the storm troopers were here, that means they were looking for something.
He drew the digital binoculars to his stalk-like eyes. A fly landed on his scarred upper lip. With a flick of his serpentine tongue, he flicked it away. Where they sent here by the one they called Vader? The man who had once been his friend, but now had fallen so far into the darkness that...
If they were after who he thought they were after, they were going the wrong way from Mos Eisley. Still, he couldn't give them a chance that they might stumble upon Tatooine's best kept secret.
They were headed into some rough territory, a place controlled by the Sand People. He knew that a majority of them had been causing an insurrection in the area of Mos Espa. The storm troopers thought this would be safe passage.
They'd be wrong.
The shadowy figure pulled his heavy black robes tighter to himself. Evening was approaching, and the two suns of Tatooine were nearing the horizon. He had to act fast. Nighttime would present its own challenges.
The figure unholstered his bulky backpack. It was more robust than the typical ones you'd get from the local street vendors. Rather, it was the latest model for bounty hunters available from the bustling planet of Coruscant. Sometimes, it helped being connected.
His people had never been ones to go on the offense. They'd mainly used their technology in impressive civic works. It turned out, though, that with a few modifications, the same technology made for very effective weapons.
He found a small, silver cylinder and placed it on the ground. He stepped back a few paces. With a flick of the wrist, he activated the device. A two meter blue sphere made of an energy field blossomed from the cylinder, resembling a hologram map of a planet. He stepped around the flickering ball, his mind filling with thoughts darker than he thought he could ever imagine. It is not as if he had never seen death before. He had seen too much. But now, he was to be its instigator.
An angel of death.
With another flick of the wrist, the shield, with a sucking noise, disappeared back into the cylinder. The figure picked up the cylinder and regarded it cooly.
"Yessa," he said, stroking his chin. "Thissa do just fine."
A half a kilometer ahead, the imperial troopers rounded a tight desert cavern. They were forced to march single file. The walls were jagged and high, perhaps seven meters up. There were five of them in all. The secret was separating the team, starting with the stragglers.
The storm troopers didn't notice an agile figure leaping atop them from one canyon wall to the next, silhouetted against the dusky crack of sky. The figure was careful not to disturb any pebbles or make any noise... not until the time was right. Fortunately, the soft soles of his feet, built for long-distance underwater excursions, were perfect for hushed movement on the planet's rocky domain.
The troopers heard a noise from behind them.
"What's that?"
"Kray dragon, likely," said the captain. "3847, go check it out."
"Yes, sir. I think it came from the passage to the left."
The trooper descended up the narrow corridor. He was soon out of sight from the others. Right as planned. The passage got narrower and darker, but there was some light up ahead. It was too narrow to carry a blaster rifle. He shoulder it to squeeze through the opening.
Suddenly, he felt something heavy on his chest. He looked down. Blood. A small cylinder was embedded in his sternum.
"Who?" gasped the trooper, too stunned to react.
Staggering forward, the trooper blurrily made out the shape of his attacker. He was tall and lankly, with large leathery extrusions extending out the back of his head. His stalk-like eyes were narrowed in an unmistakable glare filled with a burning hatred. In his hand was a crossbow, the one that fired the cylinder.
Flicking a fly from his lips, he sneered, "Youssa been bombad."
With a flick of his wrist, he activated the cylinder. It was so sudden, the trooper barely felt it. His chest expanded as the shield blossomed, until his entire body was atomized to its individual cells by the expanding force field.
Jar Jar Binks stared impassionately at the blue sphere with the pool of blood underneath. He flicked his wrist again. The sphere disappeared, and the shield imploded. There would be no evidence of anyone being here. By default, the Sand People would get the blame. Fine by him. But he wanted to leave something to strike fear in the heart of the remaining storm troopers.
They deserved no mercy.
The had killed the younglings.