"Well... That's disappointing. They said it was a knight." The voice came from further down the hall, about twenty meters distant, as an armored form stepped out of an adjoining hallway. "Except you're wearing the robes of a padawan. And a fat one at that. I guess I'll just have to make do." He stopped, keeping his stance even with his feet shoulder width apart and his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Or appearing to at least. It would be hard to discern through his armor, especially with the air of relaxed indifference he was carefully inserting into each of his movements, but every muscle in his body was tense, waiting for the moment to strike. If there was one thing he'd learned from all the lives stuffed into his head, it was that any jedi, no matter their skill, was a dangerous jedi. The padawan didn't need to know that he knew that though, so he put on the show, played the overconfident bounty hunter. Maybe it would have some small effect on the tactics of this obese opponent that stood before him.
His head angled slightly to the left as he studied his opponent, a holographic overlay popping up on his HUD to display the locations of vital organs and biological weak points. He shut it off with a whispered command, then made his move. His left arm swung forward in a motion he'd practiced a thousand times, smoothly closing around the grip of his pistol as the grav-plate disengaged, then swinging up with an almost effortless grace to center his sights on the jedi's chest. The entire motion took less time than it takes a man to blink, so fluid and precise were his reflexes.
At this point, most people would squeeze the trigger and hope for the best, but unfortunately for the jedi, Bloodshot was not most people. True, he had the element of surprise and no one could outrun a slug, not even a jedi, but he'd fought enough jedi to know that they didn't always perceive the world in the same way most do. He'd heard it described like that feeling you get on the back of your neck when something bad is about to happen and all the hairs stand up, except much stronger, and it happens every damn time you pull a gun on them. So he waited. Let the surprise sink in. Watched until the man started to react, started to move to avoid the slug his senses no doubt told him was coming.
Then he corrected his aim to account for the motion and squeezed the trigger.
