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His finger sat steady on the trigger as he brought his target into his sights. They hid behind cover, the Havoc Marauder sitting behind them. They had no way out without him taking them down. The only way they were getting to that ship was by entering into his line of sight long enough for him to shoot.
How they had learned he was there, he had a few ideas, but he had left a smoking hole in their cover as a welcome when they finally came face to face. Or rather, scope to target. His nest sat nestled in the rafters of the depot they had raided, and he was fairly sure they didn’t know quite where he was.
He let out a long breath as he waited. He was patient. He could wait all day. The next shot wouldn’t miss.
Movement darted from the left side of their cover and his scope darted to meet it. An easy shot he had made hundreds of times during the Clone Wars. As soon as the traitor was in his sights, he pulled the trigger.
He frowned when he didn’t fall, instead ducking behind a stack of crates by a terminal. The floor smoked with the heat of the impact. He’d missed. He never missed. That was what made him better than the regs, what made him valuable to the Empire.
With a scowl, he aimed again, waiting for another broth- traitor to make himself known. He wondered briefly if they’d have the kid with them. Because, honestly, what kind of life were they trying to drag a child into?
Movement flashed to the right and he whipped his rifle over to bring another traitor into his sights. He pulled the trigger and this time was rewarded with a cry of pain. But he disappeared behind a speeder, still alive, tough bastard. He ignored the fact that the bolt had only hit his arm, not his chest, and certainly not his head. Even his thick skull couldn’t take a sniper shot.
With them all so spread out now, he had to zoom out his scope to reduce how much he had to move it just to keep track of them all. The speeder to his right, that Wreck- that traitor had just ducked behind, roared to life and began zipping across the depot floor. As his attention was drawn to that, he caught the blur of another broth- traitor shoot out from the original cover and duck below a ledge.
He scowled as he realised what had just happened and shot the speeder, hitting it square in the fuel tank and letting it blow. He redirected his attention to the other side of the room, to the ledge that curiously put the traitor closer to him than the ship. He hated the implications of that and fired a warning shot as soon as a head poked from the cover. Never mind that he could have easily made it a kill shot. His finger trembled over the trigger, and he clenched it into a fist to still it before returning it to the rifle.
In that brief moment, the security turret on the wall opposite him activated, swinging its barrel towards him. He swore and dropped down onto a lower rafter, crouching and moving swiftly across it right as the turret took out his nest. A different turret in a different room flashed through his mind and he realised what was happening just in time to twist out of the way of a stun bolt fired from a balcony almost level with his escape route.
He ignored that traitor as he ducked out of sight and scanned the area below him. Blowing up the new perch always followed the blaster shots. It’d taken him out enough times during training to ever forget. Sure enough, he heard the beeping of a small bomb stuck to the bottom of the rafter and darted along it, leaping to a balcony adjacent to the claimed one.
He rolled into a crouch to the sound of an explosion behind him. He quickly ducked back up to aim at the other balcony, but his brother, no traitor, the traitor, was gone. He moved to scan the rest of the depot when movement out of the corner of his eye made him duck, another stun bolt flying over his head.
He came back up and saw the flash of movement duck back below the railing of the adjacent balcony. So, he was still there. He reached into his belt for his mirror pucks and flung them into the air towards the other balcony. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger as soon as he saw the flash of dark armour in the nearest one. The bolt bounced between the pucks and disappeared behind the railing. He was rewarded with another cry of pain as the bolt hit the target, but he couldn’t celebrate. The cry meant he was still alive.
Quiet beeping made him look down. He swore and dove from the balcony onto a stack of crates just below. The stack didn’t save him, the blast larger than he had expected, toppling the stack and sending him crashing to the ground.
He quickly rolled back to his feet and ducked behind a pillar. Where the hell was that lug hiding? Another explosive appeared on the pillar just above him, forcing him to dive away behind new cover. They were herding him somewhere, and he hated it.
He finally caught sight of the traitor before he could throw another explosive, ducking out from behind his own cover across the depot floor to wind up for another throw. With a frustrated growl, he brought the rifle up and fired. They were getting overconfident, he had ducked out so far that there was no way he could get out of the way, especially after taking a hit earlier.
But the shot wasn’t met with a cry of pain, or the thud of a body hitting the ground. There was a yelp as he ducked for cover, and the sizzling burn of durasteel as is cooled from the blaster bolt. He frowned, but took the opportunity to keep moving. He clenched a fist again as his hand shook, willing it to stop. To let him do his job, complete his mission.
He was stopped by another flash of movement and saw Te- the third traitor standing in front of him. He raised his rifle, ignoring how it shook minutely as he aimed at his brother. They stood there for a long moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
“I apologise for leaving you, Crosshair. I know what you’re thinking, but we are here to help.”
His hands tightened on the rifle as it shook. His brow furrowed as his finger sat on the trigger, refusing to move. He needed to finish the mission. Hunt down Clone Force 99. Good soldiers follow orders.
He was a good soldier. He wanted to be a good soldier.
He whipped around when he heard movement behind him, ducking away from Wrecker. More movement and Hunter climbed down to join them, one hand holding his side while the other held his blaster.
He swore internally when he realised he had let them surround him. How had he made a mistake like that? Did he want to get caught?
His gaze darted around, looking desperately for an exit, but there was no way to get past any of them. They were in an aisle of shelves, crates ready to be shipped stacked high around them. He was cornered.
He raised his rifle again when Tech stepped closer, not knowing when he had lowered it in the first place.
“Don’t move.” He hissed.
“Like he said, we just want to help you, Crosshair.” Hunter said, taking his own step closer. “Let us help you.”
He didn’t try to hide the desperation leaking into his voice, or the trembling in his hands as he aimed towards Hunter. “Good soldiers follow orders. You’re traitors to the Empire.”
He cursed the part of his mind that refused to let him squeeze the trigger, to finish the mission. Instead, he was slowly backed even tighter into the corner.
“You’re not just a soldier, Crosshair, you’re our brother.”
He scoffed, though even that felt half-hearted. “If you cared, you would have come back.”
The traitors looked heartbroken at that. He tried to ignore it, instead focusing on getting his finger to squeeze the trigger. To just take the damn shot.
“We tried, and we wanted to, but we couldn’t. But-”
He scowled. “You should have tried harder.” He finally got his finger to tighten on the trigger. The traitors dove into action as the bolt flew, scrambling out of the way. Hunter was quick to recover, raising his blaster towards him before he could fire again. He could have sworn he had never seen his brother look sadder. He barely registered the sound of his rifle clattering to the ground as a stun bolt hit him squarely in the chest.