A little Star Wars fic I wrote almost a year ago. Characters belong to me,  wielder , and  roaringlion

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I hunt my quarry from the city rooftops. Crouched and motionless, I hardly notice the cold rain sheeting down on the world. Calming my mind, I reach out my perception and feel the life forces around me, seeking...


There!


My gaze snaps to the east where I discern a huddle of figures moving through the back alleys. There are seven of them. Again I reach out and caress their figures through the force like a butcher selecting his next cut of aged to perfection bantha.


At the group's core is my target. A human male, stooped with age and shivering in the cold. He's an off-world merchantman with strong connections to the spice trade. Formerly, he served the Separatist cause, but has now decided to renegotiate his petty financial empire on the side of the Republic. That cannot be allowed. I will make an example of him.


Around him are four life guards in a box formation. A Trandoshan leads the way and I grin as his clawed-hand subtley fondles the cold steel of the blaster at his belt. He shivers at my touch but shrugs it off as merely a chill from the cold rain.


The last two figures are harder to read. They're practically shadows beneath their cloaks as they stride as sentries beside the merchant. At my touch they freeze. So do I. The force is powerful in them. They remove their hoods and glance around cautiously. The male is a Cathar. A normally proud, golden mane clings in a wet furred mass to his head, and ice blue eyes set atop noble features speak of fearless certainty. The female is a canus-breed alien from the outer rim. Her brown hair hangs low down her back and her eyes dart back and forth, piercing the gloom.


Steel hangs from their belts as well, but my body tenses as I recognize it. Lightsabers.


I feel the excitement travel down my spine. My blade hasn't tasted the blood of Jedi in far too long.


"Do you feel that, Keltorros?" the female asks.


He nods slowly. "I do, Wielder. It's so cold...and dark... "


They lift their heads and seek me out in the force. I rapidly withdraw my touch, but they have my scent. It will be mere moments before they pinpoint my position. Now is the time to strike and I seize it. I snap my death mask down into place; the grinning skull protects my identity from non-force users and never fails to inspire terror in my prey. I leap and project myself through air. The wind whistles by my ears and the rain stings the exposed skin of my hands. I draw my saber-staff and bring it to life a heartbeat before I land in front of their formation. The Trandoshan barely registers my blade as it pierces his heart and the guard by his side only has enough time to gasp before I've split him open from neck to navel. The other life guards are quicker than I anticipated and have their blasters in hand as I turn to address them. The two Jedi have their sabers out and yank the merchant out of reach of my crackling blades. The lifeguards fire and I deflect a shot into one's chest and bat the other at my target. The shot is intercepted at the last moment by the female's orange blade. With a casual flick of my hand I send the last lifeguard careening into the wall with a sickening crunch. His body lands in a pile of waste bags and doesn't move. Now the real fun can begin.


We size each other up across the alley. They assume a guard stance, his high and hers low. With a snarl, the one named Wielder launches herself at me with a sweeping blow to take off my legs. I block the attack and crack my fist into her face, sending her staggering backwards. There's no time to press my advantage as I must block a downward strike from the cathar that forces me to dance away.


Again, we pause and the female wipes some blood from her snout with a slight smile. That smile unsettles me. She's cocky and has more spine than I anticipated. I twirl my saber above my head and its burning blades roar through the air and rain. It wants their blood. They charge at me as one, using the force to propel themselves forward with frightening speed. I sway past his thrust and he uses his momentum to roll away from my backhanded sweep at his legs. As I turn, the female Jedi leaps and pushes off the alley wall, connecting a powerful roundhouse kick to my face. I stumble and back away, blood pouring from my busted lips beneath my mask.


"Impressive," I growl.


They give me no respite and press the attack. His attacks are powerful and confident; always striking from a position of poise and strength. Her attacks flow like water and seem to come from every direction. I block a downward strike from her saber and she merely drops the hilt, catches it with her off hand and attacks again with an upward swing. Together they keep me on the defensive and for the first time I start to feel fear. It is an alien sensation to me and distracts me enough to slow my guard.


His purple saber scores a deep cut into the meat of my hip and her blade passes close enough to my face to burn through my mask to the flesh and takes off my ear. Howling like a beast, I delve as deep into the force as I can and throw them backwards. The force of my attack is enough to buckle the pavement and the two Jedi rebound off the alley walls like rag dolls.


Anger courses through my bones and I let it consume me like hellfire. As the Jedi slowly get to their feet they can see the power of my anger distorting the air around me. They aren't afraid.


"I do believe we hurt his feelings," she says with a cocky grin.


"A shame really," he replies smoothly.


I rip off the remnants of my mask and hurl it aside. I don't care who sees my true face. All I want is their death. I want to see the life fade from his piercing blue eyes. I want to see blood spill from her arrogant lips.


"Jedi scum," I cry, "I will cut you to pieces and take your heads back to my master!"


I launch myself at them and drive the Jedi back with the ferocity of my attack. I score a shallow hit to his dominant shoulder and singe the fur at her neck with a near miss but, despite my skill and determination, I can make no appreciable good on my desire for their deaths. As the adrenaline bleeds off so does my anger, and the more rational part of my mind begins to remind me of why I came here in the first place. The target is everything.


I dance away from the two Jedi's counter-attack and lower my guard, de-activating my saber-staff. My foes pause in confusion and lower their guards as well. It is all I need. With lightning speed I reach out in the force and seize a waste dumpster and hurl it at them. Wielder responds the quickest and tackles Keltorros to the ground, the dumpster missing them by a hair's breath.


They spring to their feet but I am already gone. I wonder how long it will take them to realize that they weren't my target. I imagine it will only take moments for them to sense the loss of the merchant's life, crushed beneath the dumpster behind them. Will they rage? Will they feel broken defeat? I don't know, but I do know that we will meet again.