Author's Note: My apologies again for my slow writing. Also, I hope that I didn't make the bounty hunter too out of character. If I did it anyway, please don't skin me. I'm working with what one can see in the Original Trilogy.

Delilah - April 27, 2004

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~ Chapter Three - Boba Fett ~

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Wake up, Hunter.

"Hurts..."

I know it hurts.

"Do something..."

And what am I supposed to do, Hunter?

"Something..."

Should I maybe fly down from the heavens and get you out of this oversized worm? Or should I show mercy and just kill you?

"..."

It's your decision, son of Jango.

"I don't want to die."

Really?

"I don't want to die."

But you don't want to live.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE."

Well, seems that today's your lucky day.

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~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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I should have died in the desert. I was supposed to give that bloody worm indigestion. But no, I had to survive. Sometimes I really hate my life.

And now I'm here - where ever here is - and try to wake some long dead bloke. If anybody hears that story I can say Bye-bye to my reputation.

Did I already say that I hate my life?

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He's not what I imagined, the corpse I mean. Swimming in a bacta tank, one could believe he's only sleeping. Sleeping like the warriors of Iego, waiting for the right time, the best chance to win the old war. And from what I can understand of the doctor babble in his file the corpse is officially not dead. No brain activity, hooked up on full life support, but 'not dead'.

Makes one think about the definition of death.

Anyway, I'm to wait here. That's what the insane guy in the desert told me. Wait till the last child of twilight wakes up.

I'm bored.

Can you imagine what it feels like to wait for some stupid dead guy to wake up? It's more entertaining to watch a stone stand still.

More than four months. Four bloody boring months with nothing more to do than reading books that are...

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* CRACK *

What was that?

* CRACK... SPLASH *

Oh, just bloody fantastic. Who did I kill to deserve such a punishment? I'm a bounty hunter, not a cleaning droid.

I hate bacta stains on my armour. They never get out. And look, the whole room basically swims in the despicable stuff. Can you say Urgh? Yes, you can.

Well, at least he's now awake.

Impressive body art. Most impressive. All that black and red. It suits him with his red eyes.

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Red eyes?

Red Eyes.

RED EYES...

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Why me? Why in the name of my family's blood, is it always me?

Isn't it enough that I am on Darth Vader's payroll? Isn't it enough that I trust the black avenger with my life? Obviously not, or I wouldn't be here.

Why didn't he tell me I'd have to play bodyguard for an angel?

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~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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"I hate you."

My, we are angry today.

"Stay out of my head."

You amuse me, Hunter. Didn't my present amuse you?

"Present?"

Yes, the little gift I gave you. I believe he would be of help in your line of work.

"Are you speaking of the dead angel?"

Angels don't die. They change, but never die.

"And what is that suppose to mean, Sith?"

It means, my warrior friend, that you are on the threshold to immortality.

"..."

You should visit your employer.

"No, not again. I'm not doing it."

But you must.

"I don't care. I'm not doing it. He can protect himself."

But...

"I said no."

You can't avoid your destiny.

"I'm not playing babysitter for your suicidal son."

Remember your promise, son of Jango.

"An angel's soul flies fierce and free. An angel's heart burns cold and cruel."

"Yes, I remember, Lord Sith."

"But I still hate you."