" We fired our guns, and the Imps kept a comin'

Wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago

Fired once more, and they began to runnin'

Left behind their dignity, and their ego

They ran through the briars, and they ran through the brambles.

Ran through the bushes where a bantha couldn't go

They ran so fast, the shrills couldn't catch them

Left behind their dignity, and their ego "

The pearl-white, black trimmed armor of Imperial Stormtroopers was indeed the most identifiable solider's armor in the galaxy, but on the other hand, it was hardly the best camouflage.

White, against the choking foliage of the Kashyyk jungle ? That was essentially an invitation to be fired on. It was tantamount to how the British army wore their bright red coats in the forests of Canada. That had proven to be a massive mistake; the British stood out like sore thumbs in the wilderness, and were cut down. The survivors ran so fast, the hounds couldn't catch them, and they'd run all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.

The Imperial forces were a lot like that: soldiers of a vast empire, rigidly disciplined, proud to the point of arrogance, and certain they had no peers.

That seemed to be true, at least. It was early in their occupation of the planet, but already, they'd met with success after success. Star Destroyers had reduced entire Wookie villages to nothing but smoking craters and ruins with punishing orbital bombardments. AST combat walkers were then among the first ground forces to be ferried to the surface, and thier heavy blaster cannons soon had large swathes of the more open regions of Kashyyk ( or, G5-G23, as the Empire had taken to calling it ).

Typical shock and- well, not quite awe, Wookies, Kashyyk natives, weren't the kind to be cowed by this kind of firepower. They'd torn droids in half during the CIS invasion of their world.

So, the Empire had gone right past that, and onto either: extermination, or enslaving them. Already, entire Wroshyr trees were gutted and torn open, burned by Empire forces, their inhabitants either dead, or hauled off to be slaves.

Now, the gargantuan and looming trees, the size of buildings, were dead monuments to a conquered world. The Empire now its Stormtroopers marching into its jungles, seeking to scout out more of their elusive warrior culture enemy; the Wookies, some of them at least, were still resisting.

Unsurprisingly. They would fight on, and the Empire would find them.

That was the job this current Stormtrooper patrol. It was a patrol unit, under 8 , in a line formation, E-11 blaster held at the ready.

Ready was important. The jungle wasn't so much dense, as it was enormous. The trees- even the ones that weren't Wroshyr - were all so tall, and tended to block out the sunlight, leaving only only a slight amount to trickle in, and putting a shadow over everything. Foliage was growing close to the narrow trail they were following, leading deeper and deeper into the jungle.

There should've been wildlife teeming here as well, but with the Empire's heavy-handed landing, they'd all either been killed or driven off, mostly. It was quiet indeed.

Perfect ambush quiet.

But, the troopers were not anticipating such an attack. As they tramped along, sweeping blaster rifle muzzles back and forth, they thought instead of how to deal with the next ferocious Wookie head-on assault they were just about certainly to encounter soon. That'd been how all their armed clashes with the Wookies had gone; the massive, furry aliens had always opted to take their enemies head on. As that hadn't stopped the Empire's firepower laden military machine from rolling in, most troopers believed it was just a matter of finding them, and calling in that firepower to end the fight.

That was their style.

The troopers kept going, and the jungle was quiet around them. A light breeze rustled the leaves and branches, scattering dust into the air. Yet, the overall stillness persisted-

Zzzwrp !

A blazing , white hot particle bolt whipped out from the depths of the foliage, and nailed one of the troopers square in the side of the head.

Unable to even cry out before death took him, the dead trooper topple, his rifle falling beside him.

Before he'd even hit the ground, the rest of the patrol was jolted into action.

Yelling ' Contact ! ', the squad leader raised his blaster in the direction of the shot, and ordered his forces to fan out. They did, loosening their formation and reorganizing themselves toward the primordial jungle.

Waiting. This had to be beginning of an ambush. In a handful of seconds, the air would be filled dozens of crisscrossing particle bolts. That was their kind of fight; the kind they trained for.

But, nothing happened.

The already-quiet jungle stayed that way. And that seemed to unnerve the troopers. Wookies weren't ever quiet when it came to battle. They were some of the most aggressive fighters in the galaxy, bar none.

What was going on ?

The squad leader gestured to the duo oftroopers nearest him, directing them to advance on where the shot had come from. They were taking the initiative. They were going to root out this new threat, and deal with it, using speed, and direct, powerful force.

Imperial style.

However, as they were soon to find out-

zzzwhpp !

Another bolt zipped out. Again, it was a perfect headshot, felling another trooper. Headshots always worked if a shooter could accomplish it, as the head was the weakest section of a trooper's armor.

Exploitable. Easy to put them down.

Zsswhpp !

As the the third trooper was slain again by a textbook headshot, the patrol finally realized what they were dealing with.

A sniper.

A good one.

The whole patrol went to ground, taking aim where the shots were coming from. But, none of them fired. There was no target. Just the forest, the jungle, the massive trees, all the shade of darkened bark and jade.

They were the targets.

There were a few wisps of smoke in the air from the particle beams that had been fired. The patrol waited, staying low as the two scouts advanced into the quiet trees.

Zzzzhrroo, BOOM !

With only a second- at most- of warning, a grenade, launched from somewhere on the other side of the path, slammed down on the patrol.

It did a number on them. 3 troopers were killed outright, thrown into the air, their armor torn by the shrapnel blast. Bits of it, along with dirt and blood, showered the other troopers.

Dazed, confused, and reeling from the bombardment, the remaining troopers on the path struggled to reorient themselves. The ones sent into the jungle flinched but did not turn around. They had a mission to carry out, and they had to see it through, as troopers of the Empire.

Which is why the next two particle bolts fired took them both in the backs of their helmeted heads.

Everything- from the first shots, to these- had elapsed within 30 seconds.

That was all the time needed take out a Stromtrooper patrol, evidently.

There was only one survivior; one of the troopers hit by the grenade. Half a leg was blown off, but aside from the shock, the lone solider could still, somehow, aim his E-11 a bit.

Not for much longer though. Aside from the lost leg, shrapnel from the grenade had punched into his upper torso, deep. They were fatal, weather the trooper realized it or not.

The final living member of the patrol soon lost the ability to aim his weapon. It dropped to the pithy soil, and the arm holding followed right after.

As that final member died, one thing stood out clearly over the now deceased patrol, scattered all along the path, frozen in time.

There had not been any target for any of them.

It had been a round of good hunting.

Watching the results of his handitwork, was a lone man, perfectly concealed in the blend of shadows that dominated the entire jungle, and only became tighter further in, away from the path.

Which, actually, wasn't a true path at all. It'd been carved there over many weeks. It was designed to resemble an actual track, to lure enemies down it, even though they didn't realize it.

As this patrol had just found out.

It was meticulous, methodical work. The work of a calculated, experienced hunter.

And not a hunter of animals.

The hidden hunter didn't remove his helmet, with its blue, t-shaped visor, and angry red slashed painted ( was it even paint ? ) across it. He also did not put away his weapon: a DC-10 blaster, in sniper mode.

He did speak, however. That there was nobody around to listen to him didn't stop him. He'd been called crazy before, unstable too. None of that bothered him. He was in sync with it.

It was who he was, as a Republic Commando

" Send me more of you, so I can kill you all " whispered Sev.