Disclaimer: I don't, like, own any of these characters

Disclaimer: I don't, like, own any of these characters... well, the majority anyway. So don't sue me. I'm poor anyway.

                                   Star Wars:  The Hunt

                                   

Chapter 1:  The Escape

                                          By: Darren Pennington

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                The twin suns of Tatooine began rising over the tall, jagged mountains just east of the vast desert that would eventually lead to Jabbas Palace. It had only a day ago that a group of Rebels freed the infamous Han Solo, a former freelance mercenary, along with some friends consisting of a Wookiee and an enslaved princess. It had also been with that day that Boba Fett, a legendary hunter to say the least, had fallen victim to the Sarlaac like so many others that day.   But unlike those others, Fett had an undying will to survive... and it wouldn't be long until somehow Fett would even figure a way to escape death at such certainty. 

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                Fett lay inside the belly of the Sarlaac.  Here trauma was inevitable.  The screams were horrifying gurgles of sudden death as the Sarlaacs acidic entrails burned through them all... digesting slowly...an agonizing pain to say the very least.  Fett had witnessed more pain and death inside the Sarlaac for the past day than he had in his career of hunting all together.  Sure he'd seen death, he'd dealt death, but never was he surrounded with so much confusion and horror. He'd witnessed a number commit suicide, a well chosen fate compared to that of the Sarlaacs.  Still, Fett refused to give up. The Sarlaacs belly burned relentlessly with its digestive acid, but Fett was well protected, having the armor worn by the early Mandalorian Commando's.  But even at that it was only a matter of time before the armor was rendered useless... He knew that, and he knew the great pain it'd be, the acid had already torn at Fetts unarmored arms and feet, undoubtedly scarred. 

                Among Fett there was another man, apparently still sane.  He narrowed his eyes to Fett, his face was pale as if the hunter still kept a fearful aura about him...But the man kept his cool and spoke.

''Aye you... try blastin this thing? M'rifles got nothin left in'er.''

Fett replied as if agitated, ''I've already tried that... its pointless. The creature only gets angry.''

''Well, how bout'a ....uh.... got some'a them high chargin explosives?'', the man returned.

''You're meaning a detonation device of some sort?''

''Yeah! Yeah! One'a those.'', the man nodded quickly, even after he spoke.

''No.''...a subtle reply from Fett.

By this time there was barely anyone alive.  This, however, only meant less screaming and more bodies to walk over... it wasn't helpful for the amount of room either.  The Sarlaac pits stomach was only about the size of a small room.   

Fett turned his head from the man, and proceeded in devising a way, if any, to free himself... He muttered under his breath, ''A high....chargin....explosive?'', he shook his head.

''Wait.'',  Fett thought..., ''My jetpack... the fuel...''

Fett grinned with hope.  He unstrapped the jetpack from his back and pondered how he was to do this.  He knew it would be pointless trying to ''fly'' his way out...too many cons than pros to make such an attempt.  ''Hmm...'', Fett thought again.  He raised his blaster rifle with a tattered, gloved hand and sent a shot straight at the acidic walls of the Sarlaacs belly... It screamed and shook, giving a long painful moan.  The man Fett had previously spoken to was alerted, ''I thought you said you already tried that!'', he yelled.

''I did.  Just making sure she was up for the big one...'', he retorted as he holstered his rifle.

''Big...wha?'', the man inquired, confused.

''My suggestion is you take cover... I'll be leaving now..'', Fett answered in certainty... Only he wasn't totally certain.  He only knew that even if he failed, no one would would live to witness and tell about it.  Besides, if he stayed here he would surely die.  If his plan worked, he may survive. 

The man, still confused, said nothing more...Fett tossed his jetpack to the soft, swampy feeling floor of the Sarlaacs belly.  Fett unsheathed the bootknifes at his heels and took one in each hand.  With a small leap he dug the blades into the side of the Sarlaacs stomach...using the knifes to scale upwards, climbing up the way he came in.  Fett knew it would be as useless to try and simply climb out than to ''fly'' out... But he had somewhat a plan.  He let loose of one of the blades, unholstering his rifle in the free hand.  His balance was barely with him at this point.  He took aim, clinching his teeth, then fired a bullseye shot at his jetpack which lie on the floor of the stomach.  On impact the jetpack, containing fuel, exploded sending those below to certain death, as for Fett... just what he hoped.  In that instant of impact, a surge of energy from the explosion sent Fett flying upwards, the only direction he could have went... The explosion, of course, caused the Sarlaac a great deal of pain and in turn it began crying in agony.  Fett couldn't come to the realization of which direction he was going... His head was spinning, his body writhed in different directions, and eventually his helmet was thrown off.  It was only seconds later, but felt like days that Fett was spit from the dead Sarlaac. 

Fett climbed his way to the desert floor...and collapsed.  His body was scarred and bleeding.  He barely summed the energy to raise his head and look himself over.  His boots were nearly melted away, his armor practically unrecognizable, his helmet gone... Fett dropped his head to the desert floor... The sun had just risen and he was tired, nearly dead...Here he would rest, hoping someone might find him...and in the distance there appeared a ship....