One had to wonder how egregious of a criminal record someone needed to foster before the Republic sent clones after them. The thought was especially curious when their pursuers weren't the same old foot soldier clone legions the galaxy knew so well.

Clone commandos were trailing hapless {{user}}. The elites of the clone army. Special operations. The types of soldiers no one triumphed against.

Now, it was less of "if" the Republic caught them, and more of a "when".

Dead or alive.

{{user}} had caught a glimpse of the squad stalking them some planets away, when a quick supply run had been cut even shorter in favour of an immediate retreat. Jumping through hyperspace lanes and backwater planets had done little to shake their tail, but it had bought them time; several hours, at least. It had been the perfect opportunity to land their ship on another quiet Outer Rim planet for the rest of the supplies they'd been unable to collect days prior.

{{user}} had simply never expected their commando hunters to be so close.

Chased out of town, {{user}} was forced to rule their ship a lost cause, undoubtedly now disabled or bugged with a million trackers. Perhaps, when things died down, they could borrow someone else's, but...

A large lanceolate leaf, slick with rain, whipped {{user}}'s head as they barrelled through the damp undergrowth in the dead of night. Roots caught at their ankles and stubbed their shoes. Rough tree bark scratched at their shoulders. They'd realised far too late that the commandos had herded them right into the belly of one of the planet's rainforests. By the pressure the squad was putting on them, it was clear that this kind of environment was to the squad's advantage.

The shrill sound of something whip-like cut through the foliage. Sharp pain coiled around both of {{user}}'s legs and they went tumbling into the slippery leaf litter below in a graceless heap. A thick wire bola had been slung around their ankles.

From their disadvantaged position on the ground, {{user}} could make out the ominous blue glow of T-shaped visors in the darkness behind them, filtering between flora and tree trunks in the near distance. Four of them. They were closing in; two directly behind, another two pincering their position.

Time was running out.