The firing died down and lightsabers extinguished. All the temple fell silent, save for the footsteps of stormtroopers and the occasional screams of the last of the fleeing Jedi. Boba Fett strolled out of a scarlet room drenched, especially his right forearm. In his wake lay what remained of a clan of younglings and Jedi Knight protectors, shot up with blasterfire and ripped open from end to end. My work here, Boba told himself, is done. Past several stromtroopers on patrol and through a maze of labyrinthine corridors, Boba made his way to the the darkened Room of a Thousand Fountains, their waters deathly quiet. Boba approached the pools of the once grand room and knelt down at its edge. He dipped his arms into the inky black water and washed off the blood. It may still be on my hands for life, but I care not. They deserved it. Every. Single. Last. One. But then he remembered the Jedi Padawan that gave aid to him in earlier years. Ulu Ulix. A friendly enough fellow Boba had met after his ordeal with Count Dooku, or Tyranus as Boba found out, amidst the filth of Raxus Prime. But he quickly shut it out of his mind. Ulu was expendable and recent events swayed Boba to believe such. If I end up in a similar situation again, I'll use them to whatever ends. Then I'll butcher the fools when I have no more use of them. With his armor plating and helmet washed clean, Boba went to work on the legs of his flight suit which was not as messy as the rest of his suit had been. He scooped up little handfuls of water and, by way of rubbing them into his legs, removed the stains or at least to a reasonable degree. He felt cold and damp but the young hunter was abundantly satisfied with the slaughter he'd wrought. And lo, silence's glass was shattered again! The little splashing and rippling of the water Boba used cleaned himself with were drowned out. Cries. Aided by his helmet's audio receptors, Boba heard quite clearly. They weren't to far off. Was it a Jedi? Perhaps more than one? They must be cowering in fear. Rightfully so.
It was getting darker as he moved on through the empty hallways. With a tap of a button, green filled Boba's T-Visor; the infrared. The view was but a grainy, but his solace was that he could see. This way. Boba turned a corner and headed towards an open door. His hands turned to ice as their damp coverings touched the cold metal of his Westar blasters. As he drew them, he stepped through past the opening. But what was this? Stormtroopers and old woman? Wary, Boba froze dead in his tracks as if the cold in his hands had taken over his body.
Boba wasn't in the least bit surprised, especially after one of the stormtroopers tried to arrest him a short while ago. Did they not know one of their associates when they saw them? Apparently not. Without giving it much thought, Boba fired his jets and flew backwards. With his blasters drawn and pointed ahead, he directed a barrage of fiery blaster bolts at his assailants' weapon-gripping limbs.