“Keep your heads down, we have a visual sighting on one of the snipers, if we appr . . .” Private Joarn’s squad leader was cut off mid sentence; his head shattered by the high velocity round. Joarn pushed his face as hard into the ground as he could and remained there, trying not to shake. Only the rough hands of his Corporal pulled him up a moment later.

“The Sniper was only a hundred metres or so ahead, we need to push on. Keep moving. Fast.” The more experienced soldier explained. The expressions on Joarn’s comrades ranged from revulsion to pity at his cowardice.

They rushed through the dense undergrowth, hoping it would shield them. Another round sped through the trees and knocked another soldier from his feet. As Joarn ducked under a branch he felt a round whiz over his head and turned to see another comrade fall in a spray of crimson blood. It stained the giant leaves around them, tainting their natural surroundings.

A few moments later and Joarn spotted a glimmer ahead; he fired a few rounds and immediately spotted a heavily camouflaged sniped turn and flee. He broke left, following his Corporal, they carelessly smashed through the undergrowth seeking vengeance.

They burst into a clearing only to find it had been stolen from them.  A soldier in stormtrooper armour coated in a patch work of green colours stood over the body, wiping his bloodied knife on the undergrowth.

“How the hell did you guys get out here so fast?” Joarn asked. The trooper turned to look at the regular imperial soldiers in their light armour.

“We were already in the jungle.” A whole squad of Ghosts emerged from the jungle around them. “That’s one down, three more to go.” The Wraith spoke to his colleagues.

OOC:

Location: Jungle South of Dieta

Short Term Goal: Snipers recently opened fire on our soldiers in the city. Help the regular troopers find and kill them.

Long Term Goal: Head deeper into the jungle and ambush the Republic camp (~20 men)

Useful Specs: 6.2 P4 A1 A9

The Wraiths moved quickly through the jungle, quickly, quietly and professionally. Before, they couldn't have done this. Now they all knew what to do, and they all knew where the others were. The same could not be said of the regular troopers.

Before, Jamasis would have been happier to see them. Now he viewed them with disdain. They got in the way, but they also hid the Wraiths with their incompetence. He himself had never been efficient or noticeably skilful, but now things worked. There was no inner turmoil to distract him, and he worked better than he could ever remember Wraith. Forgotten, lost, and quite ironically at their best for longer than Jamasis could remember.

"No more shots fired yet, but the snipers are still there. Any large movements and we'd have seen. Expect them to be changing position. If you see the flash from their rifles, return fire only if you can hit them. Stay hidden as much as possible," the commands came through the comm. unit in the helmet softly, quietly and almost without purpose. They knew what to do, and the jungle, while unpredictable, never truly changed.

The regular troopers crashed through the undergrowth, now a few dozen metres behind Wraith. They attracted attention to themselves, and diverted it from the true soldiers. Around Jamasis, his squad mates -not friends now, just squad mates- were moving with a grace fitting the squad name.

The flash from ahead, to the left, followed by the sudden destruction of the branch in front of Jamasis caused him to drop instantly.

"These snipers are good. They can see us. They know we're the threat. One of them is roughly forty metres ahead, fifteen to the left," he muttered into his comm. There was no sense in getting up. The sniper had seen him, knew he had missed. Jamasis crawled through the plants, without disturbing them, moving from one small patch of open ground to the next. After moving a good dozen metres he popped up, rifle aimed at where he had seen the flash. He was unsurprised to see nothing. He sank back to the ground and moved as quickly as he dared towards the sniper’s last position, not directly but in an arc. He had lost sight of the other members of his squad; not that it mattered. He usually worked alone anyway. A snap of wood, turning to the source of the noise to see nothing.

“Sniper thirty, thirty five metres ahead of me. Get down Val, he’s tracking you,” came Sam’s voice through the helmet. Jamasis kept going; it didn’t mean anything to him. There were too many obstacles to shoot reliably, and it gave away your position. He had almost finished his arc, to see the sniper crouching, maybe ten metres from his first position. Unfortunately for the sniper, it was ten metres closer to Jamasis; his attention fixed entirely ahead of him, on the regular troopers. Jamasis calmly drew his combat knife, and moved towards the sniper as slowly and quietly as he could. Still staring intently down his scope, the sniper stiffened as the blade penetrated his neck, before going limp and being lowered to the floor.

“Two down,” he murmured into his comm. unit.

“Sniper thirty, thirty five metres ahead of me. Get down Val, he’s tracking you.” Sam warned.

Rolling into a low crouch, Valthir paused behind a tree, almost too late.A small crack and a piece of bark whirled off from the tree, closed to Valthir’s head.

Ok. Sam warned me, so he has, or at least had, a visual on the sniper. One is already dead, so that leaves two more free.

Thinking quickly, Valthir watched his surroundings. The greenery around the tree was dense which gave Valthir some degree of cover. It also provided an escape route. He may have seen moving behind the tree, but he wouldn’t be seen leaving. Starting forward slowly, Valthir kept low to the ground. The grass whizzed by as he slipped between the foliage without a sound.

All was quiet. The jungle was strangely still, as if all the animals had fled. It made Valthir slightly uncomfortable as his thoughts lingered on it, but was soon distracted as a noise floated through the jungle. Unsheathing his knife, he listened carefully and began to move more slowly, intending the follow the sound to its source. In the distance, he spotted a rather large tree, with the branches reaching outwards, as if clutching for the surroundings trees. The branches formed a small hollow in the center, from which a figure was emerging. That was the source of the sound he had heard, armor scraping against wood. Quickening his pace, Valthir had almost reached the figure, when it touched the ground and spun around, waving the sniper rifle it was holding.

Anticipating the action, Valthir had been watching the figure carefully and ducked behind a conveniently placed tree at the first sign of turning. He remained still while he listened, trying to place the location of the sniper based on the sound of the footsteps. For a moment, the sniper remained still, but began to move, almost too quietly to be heard. Luckily for Valthir, his senses were sharp and picked up on the barest traces of sound, picturing the surrounding area as he had remembered it and placing the sniper on the imaginary landscape. It definitely wasn’t incredibly accurate, but it was the best that he could do. The imaginary sniper began to move closer to the tree behind which Valthir was hiding, but was far enough to way for Valthir to feel relatively fine. Despite all of his training, he was still surprised when an armored boot stepped on a stick, resulting in a crack that was too close for Valthir to be sure of his safety.

Swearing silently, he raised his knife, assuming a fighting stance. He had estimated the being to be at least ten feet away, yet he was wrong. The sniper rounded the side of the tree and spotted Valthir, reacting instantly. Wisely, it dropped the sniper rifle and instead reached for an over-sized pistol hanging on its hip. Lunging forward, Valthir whipped the knife in an arc and slammed it just behind the butt of the pistol, piercing both of the sniper’s hands. The trigger had already been pressed, but Valthir’s strike had shifted the aim, which resulted in the slug burying itself into Valthir’s left arm. With a roar of pain, Valthir abandoned the knife and went hand to hand. He was able to unleash a few punches before the sniper could free its hands from the knife. Despite being robbed of the ability to use its hands, the sniper nevertheless put up a fight. Dodging an elbow aimed at his temple, Valthir glanced around for his knife, which he found close by. Leaping for it, he ducked into a roll, putting some distance in between the two combatants.

The sniper was having none of this and charged Valthir, tackling him as soon as he was within range. As the air was knocked out of his lungs, Valthir twisted to break free and brought his knife up, stabbing the being in the side which succeeded in throwing him off. Rolling to the side, Valthir caught his breath and stood up, still holding the knife in front of him to ward off a potential attack. But the attack never came.

The sniper was on its hands and knees nearby, wheezing and coughing up blood. Valthir deduced that he had punctured a lung or other vital organ with his strike. Approaching the sniper warily, Valthir kicked the being onto its side.

“Please. I’m dying. Show me mercy and help me to my feet. Let me fight. Let me die with honor at least.”  the being managed to force out.

Valthir showed no hesitation, “There is no honor. There is no glory. There is a brief glimmer of life and then an eternal death. No, I will not show you mercy. You and your kind have chosen your fate.”

Lashing out, he caught the being across the helmet, slicing deep into it. With a shudder, the sniper slumped back and was no more. Valthir remained there, barely aware of anything. His words were cold, cruel, and alien. He had truly shocked himself.

When did I become such a thing? Such a monster? Am I truly that distant and unattached that I feel nothing for the passing of a life? I used to feel remorse for every death I caused. Every one. Even in self defense. But the man was dying already. A few more minutes and he would have been dead. I could have accepted his request and let him die with “honor.” But I didn’t. I didn’t even kill him to put him out of his misery. I killed him because . . . I was told to.

Withdrawing his knife, Valthir sheathed it and walked away. Unseen behind the helmet, the tears flowed.

The rain hammered down on the soil, loosening it and washing it away, leaving ruts where the water flowed. It had been a while since rain had fallen there, despite the area’s proximity to the jungle, and the plants, and ground lapped the water up like a thirst animal. Soon, they were quenched, yet still the water rained down. All the men stationed there were overjoyed, tired of the aridness of their encampment. But there was one without any positive feelings whatsoever. He stood in the drenching downpour with his helmet held under his arm. His head was thrown back, letting the rain wash over him. Alas, his wounds were not that easy to heal, as they weren’t physical wounds.

Valthir was oblivious to the tears that flowed down his face, mixing with the rain as they ran down his cheeks. He was alone. All alone. The squad that had become like family to him over the past six months was gone. They had been ripped apart and thrown to the hungry dogs looking for bodies. Wraith was no more. They were his brothers. He had depended on them to watch his back, as they had depended on him to watch theirs. And that bond was broken by the powers that be. He was alone, though not for the first time in his life. And like before, he withdrew in on himself.

The troopers stationed at the outpost could not get him to talk, no matter how hard they tried. He sat and stared off into the distance, seeing but not seeing. His former squadmates had already departed some days before. He would have gone with them, but was forced to stay due to the limits of space aboard the convoy. And so he remained, all alone.

All he had left of Wraith was his armor. He refused to give that up. The formerly impeccably white plastoid was now riddled with cuts and scrapes and was stained green where the juices from crushed plants had leaked in and dried. It was his only link to Wraith and he would keep it as long as he possibly could.

The rain continued to fall, uncaring of his plight. And even if it could feel any sort of sympathy for him, he would not have welcomed it. Strangers were not welcome in his world. Either among brothers or alone, there was no middle ground.  The rain fell, plastering his hair flush against his head as he stood unmoving. He would be leaving the jungle soon.

A rumble sounded from down the road, preceding the convoy that would be Valthir’s ride out of the jungle, whether he wanted to take it or not. With a resigned sigh, he replaced his helmet on his head, snapping it into position and went to meet the convoy.

------------------              ------------------                  ------------------                  ------------------                  ------------------

“One more down. That leaves, what, two more?” Valthir said into his comm.

“No, Jamasis took one down, so that’s one more.” Sam replied.

Valthir nodded to himself, “Got it. Anybody located the last sniper yet?”

Jamasis spoke up, “Not precisely. But there seems to be a cluster of Republic troopers to the west. That may be where he is heading.”

“Then we need to get to him before he gets to then. Spread out and keep your heads down." Valthir said quickly, already moving.

Dispersing, Wraith drifted westwards, leaving the grunt troopers behind. Opening up a comm connection to the private he had talked to earlier, Valthir spoke.

"Listen carefully. There is a Republic encampment due west of our positions. We have reason to believe that the last sniper is heading there. If you approach this way, there may be quite a few Republic troopers there so be careful.” Valthir paused, “There is no need for any more of you to be killed.”

With a click, he closed the channel. They were nearing the encampment and no sign of the lone sniper had been spotted. Like their namesake, Wraith was able to get directly on the borders of the camp without being seen and watched for any signs of activity.

“I don’t see anything. Nothing is moving out there. Something doesn’t feel right . . .” Dominus muttered.

Instantly, a primal yell ripped across the camp clearing and troopers burst from hiding spots. It was a few seconds before they spotted Wraith, which gave the squad some time to prepare themselves.

“We’re outnumbered! There are too many for us to handle! Fall back, fall back!” Valthir yelled into the comms, spurring his squad to retreat.

Opening another channel to the grunt private, Valthir half-yelled, “Contact, contact. Be alert, the enemy is on the move and pursuing us.”

These are not good odds. There were around twenty men that I could count. That’s too many for us to even begin to think about holding off. We have to get away.

They ran through the jungle, pausing none. Blaster bolts rained towards them from behind, growing sparse as they left the Republic troopers behind. Just when they felt like they couldn’t run anymore, they stumbled into an Imperial camp and nearly collapsed with relief as they realized that they were among allies. As his squadmembers were taken to the med-tent to be patched up, Valthir opted to warn the commander of the camp to be on the look-out for a band of Republic troopers. Then ,and only then, did he join his squad.

The injuries weren’t life-threatening, but neither were they minor. The mass amount of blaster bolts had severely damaged the armor of Sam and Dominus, while Jamasis had nearly twisted his ankle and broken a few bones by a misstep in their rush to escape. Valthir hadn’t been hit as badly as the others, but he had still gotten tagged quite a bit.

Events had proceeded quickly from there, almost too fast to fully comprehend. One moment Valthir was resting with his squad, the next he was before a council being told that they were being split up and reassigned. The ramifications of this didn’t hit Valthir until later.

He was numb, cold and unfeeling. It was almost surreal. Almost. The rain began to fall a few days after, almost as if nature was trying to wash away the bad feelings and memories. The rest of his squad left not too long after and he was left alone. All alone. Waiting for a ride that he hoped would never come, so he could spend his days roaming the forest. What other reason did he have for living? His squad was gone. And it felt like he was as well.

The convoy came, a train of vehicles carrying supplies to camps and cities in the region that were loyal to the Empire. Valthir hopped aboard and was taken away. And the rain kept falling.

OOC:

Well, I guess that this is the closing post for the story.