Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Darth George does.


ARMY OF TWO


Begin Entry: Day 3

We thought it was going to be simple, and better yet, short. Two weeks to take 'em out, tops. Rich people's property, minimal guards: only about thirty. Trig and I bought custom weapons: guillotine slicer rifles. Exactly what it sounds like, it can take a being's head off from a hundred and fifty meters away. Specialized projectiles; one shot and the target's down and out. But it wasn't enough. We thinned out the ranks by eight guards the first night, but after that, they started wearing helmets, neck braces, jetpacks, and body armor.

And we were told that they were going to be a piece of sweetcake to take out. Thanks a lot for the fantastic intel, Xizor. I hope you die in a dark hole somewhere.

End Entry.


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Begin Entry: Day 4

It's taken me a few days, but I've decided that I definitely hate this place. And I mean really hate it.

Null's a creepy planet. People say it has to do with being tainted by Sith Lords a while back, but that's government propaganda and everyone knows it. Multiple Force-using factions are always getting into wars with each other, and the galaxy still seems fairly normal.

Null's main problem for me is the foliage: there's just way too much of it. Hah, Trig's reading over my shoulder and asking me if I swallowed a dictionary today. "Foliage..."

I prefer cities, metal and transparisteel, and lots of people. It's easier to hide in a crowd than in the thickest forest in the galaxy. But I guess I shouldn't complain...Trig and I are getting paid well for this job. Imperials really should learn to stay out of Black Sun's business...

End Entry.


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Begin Entry: Day 5

Well, I guess I'd better mention how I got into this mess. If I die, I can hope this log will find its way into Xizor's scaly hands. Then maybe he'll know just how much I hate his reptilian guts.

Trig and I took the job while on a smuggling run to Metellos. The run we were on was low-paying, only four thousand apiece, so were were up for some real work; drug running for low-level crime lords just didn't cut it. A woman approached us in the cantina after we handed over the goods to the Hutt gangster we had been working for and told us to come with her. We just laughed. The girl must've been eighteen, way too young and innocent-looking to be involved in any upper-level crime. Next thing we know, she had got a knife to Trig's throat. We weren't laughing anymore. She flashed a high-denomination cred chip in front of me and lowered the knife, then told us again to come with her. We did.

We ended up in a run-down factory building in one of the less pleasant city districts, and lo and behold, the girl's a Black Sun operative who led us straight to the Falleen, Xizor. I refuse to call the bastard a "Prince," though... Apparently someone had dropped our names to him a while back—I never did find out who—and he thought we were suited for the job. I should have walked out right away, though, because I knew as soon as I saw his ugly green face that he was going to be nothing but trouble.

Anyways, he told us that there was an Imperial Intelligence officer looking a little too closely into Black Sun's somewhat-less-than-legal affairs who needed to make like a magician and disappear. Ligo was the guy's name, and he lived on Null in a private estate that was a little too comfortable to have been purchased on a standard Imperial salary. Turns out Ligo had been poking his nose in several lower-level crime lords' businesses on Coruscant, forcing them to hand over a portion of their goods and pay him outrageous sums of money for not turning them in. Of course, the weaklings that agreed to his demands he eventually ratted out anyway. So when he tried to blackmail a handful of Black Sun operatives in Coruscant's Orange District, the call went out for some mercs to get rid of him. Just so happened that we were the first ones Black Sun got in touch with.

The payment's twenty thousand each, five thousand paid upfront, the rest upon delivery. Luckily for us they didn't specify what condition he had to be in, so we can turn him in dead if we need to. Beings are always easier to transport when they're dead, anyway.

So here we are, sitting outside a Imperial Intel officer's house, slowly picking off the guards and waiting for our chance at their boss.

End Entry.


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Begin Entry: Day 6

Not much has happened so far today. It's been quiet since early this morning when Ligo tried to take off from his estate's private hangar. Apparently he thought he could make it off-planet; he almost did, too. In a stroke of dumb luck, Black Sun was able to get a landlock on all of his ships, and Trig jammed the comm system so he can't call for help. I guess Trig and I haven't lost our touch after all. After few years of inter-planetary smuggling, I was worrying that we'd gotten rusty. Guess not.

End Entry.

A/N: I wrote this story for a SW story contest and ended up stayed awake until an ungodly hour of the morning to make the deadline. I know the title is stupid, but the hours of 1AM through 3AM aren't exactly conducive to coming up with fantastic stories with great titles, haha. I'm simply amazed I that could even form a coherent sentence. XD