---

"I don't know, it seems a bit... Cheesy..." Kade said quietly as he sat back on his couch, the entire wall opposite him lit up as one giant holoscreen. The holo was paused on an image of him striding toward a Liberator-class starfigher with a blaster in hand, no helmet, and a pair of dead "baddies" near the starcrafts boarding ladder.

"Cheesy?" It was more of an accusation than a question and it came from Kades Producer, a harassed looking Kel Dor named Nocia Ga.

"Yea, I mean come on, all that is missing now is for me to find some damsel in distress conveniently waiting for me in the cockpit and a kiss as we blast off into orbit. The holo is better than that. I would say re-cut it."

"The preview needs to be ready for launch in three days!" Nocias voice was almost a shriek. He was exhausted. This particular holo had been made difficult by skirmishes with pirates in one of the filming locations and they had been delayed by a month when one of the stunt-beings had been killed during the incident.

"Yes, I know. But I am sure you can make it work, you always do." Kade made a calming gesture with his hands. "Just maybe less "laser-proof Jedi" and a tad darker. I don't have any force powers, and neither does my character."

"Fiiinnneeee..." Nocia hissed the word through his mask as he made a few notes on his datapad. "I will get to work on it at once."

"Thanks Nocia, good to see you."

The Kel Dor rolled his eyes before making his way toward the exit. The Noghri bodyguard, Ogint, quietly opened the lift door and waited, his eyes not leaving Nocia, until the doors closed behind him and the turbolift vanished downward.

"Will you be need anything Mr. Ritgar?" Ogint asked, his voice had a guttural growl to it that had taken Kade some time to get used to.

"No, thank you, Ogint. Please lock down the lift and grab some sleep."

The Noghri bowed without another word and punched a code into the lift, locking it to anyone but Kade and his household staff before ghosting out of the room. Kade had to admit he found it slightly disturbing how quietly the grey skin being moved so quietly. It had saved his life on more than one occasion, but that didn't make it any less unsettling.

He made his way into this bedroom, lights around the frame of the huge bed coming gently to life so that he could navigate without being blinded. Beyond his floor to ceiling windows he could see the city of Coruscant spread out in every direction. It glowed with light like some great living organism, the beating heart of the Republic.

Kade was thankful his building was on the far side of the planet from the Jedi Temple. A terrible amount of damage had been done to the city in that area and he would have been forced to send a considerable sum to replace his property.

He kicked off his shoes and dropped his clothes in a heap on the floor before climbing into bed. A small whirring sound and a quick "schwoop" told him that the cleaning droid had already taken the discarded garments. He would pick something new out of his closet tomorrow before flying to Scarif. He wanted a break from the Capital.

Heat and Ezekiel

---

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---

---

It had been a long day.

He had expected no less. You can hardly expect to be named the Supreme Commander of a Galactic nation’s military and not have a busy time of it. It was officially peacetime, and so it might have been expected that most of that were pomp and circumstance. This was not the case, Jace had spent the day being informed to a detail even the previously high ranking officer had been unaware of. Within his mind now rested the beating heart of the Republic grand war machine, at least, he hoped to make it grand again.

That had not been the only matter keeping him occupied. At the same time as he was being named Supreme Commander, the Senate was in flux. New factions of senators had risen to prominence and a vote of no confidence had been floored. It was a tense time on Coruscant, and, Jace, being the individual he was, had thrown himself into the security measures required to make sure anyone key to the proceedings, on either side, didn’t end up dead before matters could be concluded. Of course, most feared the internal politics of the Senate. Jace, instead, was on the watch for the Sith. How they would love to extend this period of doubt at the heart of the Republic’s politics.

The apartment assigned to him was the height of luxury by his standards, and he quickly made his way to the living area, pouring himself a shot-glass of whichever bottle they had left out for him as something of a gift. He took a long gulp, before admiring the view. Even if he preferred less built up worlds, from above, Coruscant was unmistakenly beautiful. The vast glass display that made up one wall of the room gave a commanding view of much of the urban sprawl below, and the Senate in the distance. Had it been restored properly, he was sure he would have been able to spy the Jedi Temple. The thought soured his mood, and he turned from the view.

He was in his armour. It had been suggested that he might wear something more...civilian, for his swearing-in, but, he wished to treat this as a wartime position. The white and orange battle armour was an image known across the galaxy, especially with the Havoc decals beside the rank markings. He’d long refused to have them removed. Jace moved his wrist up, the action immediately bringing up a holographic display. When Jace had set out to turn Havoc Squad into the most capable sith-killers he could, they had been granted the finest in technology the Republic could afford to spare. Each feature of the Havoc Battle armour could be brought online, activated, targeted, with the barest of movements. Weapons could be fired with the literal blink of an eye. When you fought against an enemy capable of the impossible, your every action had to count and had to deliver a payload. Thankfully, for now, he was just seeking updates.

His eyes tracked through updates from the security teams, the Supreme Chancellor, their rivals, any political staff and senator who’s death or disappearance would disrupt manners. He looked again and again for the weak point. The weak point he couldn’t find.

Or could he.

Supreme Commander.

That would be a real punch in the gut.

Jace had time to turn, detaching his helmet from his belt and ramming it over his features before the first strike hit. He didn’t see the munitions, or indeed, if there was one, all he knew was that he had turned, and suddenly he was pushed from his feet by the force. That, and now the window was gone.

It was another moment before the hazard alerts along the suit informed him of the depressurisation. He didn’t need the alert, he could see everything around him being sucked towards the abyss. Another moment passed, and suddenly his view was spinning. The lights of Coruscant again, although this time they were rushing towards him. His suit automatically triggered his distress and warning systems, but everything else was left to his own activation. His suit would suppress his life signs for now, he didn’t want to fire the jets or any other feature that might save him, less he reveal himself to anyone watching the cloud of destruction from what had been his apartment.

Instead, he grit his teeth, turning in the air to face the building he was falling from, counting down the moments.

Make the window as small as possible

As he drifted closer to the building, he finally acted. Jets along his armoured fired, not an instant stop, but even still the suit had to project a field across his body to stop his form disintegrating from the GeForce. He continued to descend down several more levels of the sky rise, before his suit punched through another of the windows, bringing him to crashing stop among what had been another living area, thankfully vacant. His side arm was pulled from his thigh. No rifle, this would have to do.

All available units, there has been an incident at Hab-Block 2X-12. Designated Military Apartments. Incident believed to be coming from-

He heard the alert start to come over the military and emergency services ‘frequencies’ but he cut them off with his own override before they could finish.

“This is Commander Jace Malcom. Hab-Block 2X-12 is under attack, all available units, converge. Tighten the guard on the Senators.”

Whoever had attacked him would know their window was closing, if they already knew he had survived, they would strike again soon if they hoped to put him down. The next few minutes would be critical.

A smirk slinked its way across the Falleen’s defined jawline at the sight of the explosion. Clad in an intricate brown robe he seemed like a simple drifter. Just another wanderer on the galactic capital. His narrow, orange eyes blinked slowly before he started to move. A proper assassin always took a moment to appreciate their handiwork. His initial target being the pompous Supreme Commander Malcolm. The soldier’s apartment was now but a blaze, an endlessly pleasing sight to the undercover Sith. Still, his work on Coruscant was not done yet.

In truth, he hated this world, so rife with corruption and two-faced politicians hiding behind pleasing smiles. Elected senators that stabbed the idiots that voted for them in the back. Such problems did not exist in the Empire. Malcolm’s death was a needed one, the man had been a thorn in the back of the Sith Empire for decades. It was only right he perished in such a final manner. From his vantage point across from the now wrecked apartment, the Sith watched through macrobinoculars. His hood was raised over his head, long hair tied firmly in a tight ponytail. As he scanned around, his eyes through the macrobinoculars caught sight of an armor clad man, in another living room far below the one he had fallen from.

Damn it.

Zes’ hands clenched tightly at the sight of the Supreme Commander of the Republic military alive and breathing. Not a smouldering corpse melted into the ground. The fool was tough, he had to give him that. But that wasn’t his only trick today. The Sith assassin’s visit to this decadent world was not as simple as that. He watched from his perched position far above Malcolm, taking notes of the panicking crowds of people in the urban streets. Their screams sounded like the most pleasant of music to him. The lights of the grand city shined in his view as he flicked another switch on his wrist, igniting another set of explosives. In a building adjacent to Malcolm’s apartment, he’d level the entire complex if he had to. If it meant sending the message he had been told to send.

The secondary explosion passed in shockwave form across to Jace’s new perch in the lower portion of the building, but his armour easily dampened the impact on his person. This meant little to the Supreme Commander as he watched yet another building become partially engulfed in flame. Wordlessly, he turned his vision towards the surrounding buildings, the automated systems already scanning for further incoming threats, picking out anything that might be deemed unusual from the chaos gathering all round him.

There

What appeared to be a drifter, watching the destruction through macrobinoculars, either part of the effort of someone with a particularly morbid fascination. Jace was willing to take the risk.

“Republic Forces, patching through a location and identity now. Consider them an active target. I want them brought in alive.” His voice resounded across his communications system, what with only a pistol, he had little chance of striking a blow from this range, but he could still begin to coordinate efforts.

Just another day at the office.

---

The Trentara was a stratospheric, open-air café perched on a terrace high above the surface of Coruscant. Diners enjoyed the best of renowned Corellian chef Mara Sahlo’s expertly prepared cuisine and a well-appointed view of the city-world, overlooking some of the most famous skyrakers in the galaxy. That view included the domed Senate, the seat of the Republic, of democracy in the galaxy itself. Mara Sahlo was an excellent chef, but it was that view that made a plate at the Trentana so expensive.

That view also gave its occupants a similarly well-appointed view of a hab building, about a kilometer off, as one of its windows exploded outward in a burst of fire and smoke. A seemingly small, stark white figure plummeted through the sky into the sprawl below. Few noticed the flash, or the falling figure, but the sound, an acrid crack that cut through air, attracted attention. There was a collection of gasps and stifled screams from the array of diners on the Trentara, and all eyes were fixed on the distant building, the glowing blaze in one of its windows.

Jacen Jast, sitting at one of the outermost tables on the terrace, just finished with dinner, was well ahead of the crowd, a palm sized communicator to his ear as he watched the scene unfold. It was too distant to make out anything in particular, but something was going on at what he believed to be a military installation of some kind. Errol Barr, senior director of Coronet Analytica, disagreed.

“With all due respect, Jacen,” Barr intoned, most definitely without any due respect, “we’re still waiting on confirmation that there is a situation at all.” Waiting on confirmation. Jast had watched it happen before his eyes not ten seconds before dialing. If Barr was half as good at his job as he was at sounding like he had the vaguest sense of being in the loop, they'd all be working for him.

“With all due respect,” Jacen spat back, “I just witnessed a fucking situation first-hand, a munitions explosion at a military hab tower.”

“Jacen!” Carlotte scolded, hands over their daughter’s ears. Lyra turned to look up at her mother.

“Fuckin‘ sijuashun,” the girl repeated, excited at the commotion. Jacen mouthed an apology at Carlotte. She rolled her eyes and explained to Lyra in sweet, patient tones that some words are not to be used by respectable little ladies. Meanwhile, Barr continued his stonewalling.

“We will have a team on this as soon—” he was saying, but Jacen terminated the call and made another. Blirrun Cligh, a mid-level analyst on Jacen’s staff, picked up nearly immediately. Always by the comm, that one, which Jacen liked.

“Jast?” Blirrun asked.

“Yeah, Cligh, there’s been an explosion near the Senate square. I think it’s a military residential complex or similar,” Jacen said. “I’ve got eyes on the scene right now.”

“There’s a couple of those in the area,” Blirrun said, seemingly referencing a map of the area by the tone of his voice. “I don’t think we have anything on that. I don’t even think there’s anything in the news yet.”

“Of course not. It just happened. I’m coming into the office,” Jacen said, eyes flicking over to Carlotte. Her hands were up and her expression was twisted up in mock outrage. Maybe not mock outrage. It could be actual outrage. “Put out the word, I want the team in their seats before I get there. So to speak,” he added, knowing Blirrun often didn’t do well with hyperbole. He wondered if it was a cultural thing.

“Are you kidding me?” Carlotte asked as Jacen pocketed the comm and stood.

“What?” he said with a laugh, but she made it clear she wasn’t laughing.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” she chastised him. “There’s a terrorist attack right there,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at the smoldering habit unit across the open air, “and you’re leaving your family.”

“Well, that’s the job,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on Lyra’s forehead. The girl giggled, not particularly fussed over the explosion or the commotion it had made on the Trentana’s terrace. “It’ll probably be a late night,” Jast said. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Fine, I-love-you-goodbye,” she said, rolling the words into one, and waved him off with an annoyed flick of the wrist. All the same there was a smile in her eye. Also on her face, but when Carlotte smiled she smiled from the eyes.

“I love you too,” he answered, and was off, pushing through the gawping crowd and making his way for the Trentana’s turbolift.

---

Coruscant. A disgusting place with far too many people. Even worse, the capital of the Galactic Republic and protectors of the Jedi Order. Without that institution, the Jedi would have been wiped out long ago, as they should have been. But they were misguided, misled. It was not something she could do anything about at this time.

She had come here covertly earlier that morning, using a second-hand Mon Calamari shuttle, bought in a pure cash dealt over in the Daalang system from a close-mouthed merchant known for not keeping any sort of records. In spite of its strange design compared to the ships she normally used, the shuttle had proven fairly reliable.

Now the shuttle was parked far away and she had put on a suit of rather uncomfortable armor bought from a different merchant of the sort that forgot about customers the minute the goods and payment had been exchanged. The armor had—obviously—not been designed for her and chafed in a few places, but it would serve its intended purpose. After all, it would not do for anyone to know she had returned here after six years. Her last visit had burned itself into the memories of many. It had been somewhat… explosive.

A fine piece of work, really. As it was, she rode a speeder bike towards the previous place she had visited. She had certain information to check up on there. There was plenty of traffic on the world that never slept, but the closer she got to her destination, the thinner the traffic was. Not like it had been before her last visit.

No, prior to her last visit, this place had been thronged with life, but now most people avoided it. She however, did not. The mountainous structure, built around and atop one of this ecumenopolises actual mountains began to rise up before her. However satisfying it would have been to look closely at the ruins atop the ziggurat her destination lay deeper down, down one of the largely unguarded accessways. Deep inside the bowels of the structure.

She parked the speeder when it would no longer be of any use, moving in deeper on foot. It didn’t take long to get to the first checkpoint, but the trooper stationed there wasn’t the most alert, easily distracted with but a small trick of the mind. While he investigated a blind path she knew led to a collapsed corridor, she silently slipped behind his back.

The process was repeated twice more before she reached her target: one of the only remaining backup mainframes, containing a wealth of knowledge there had been no time to extract during the last visit. Malgus had been far too eager in his desire to destroy the temple to allow for such an operation.

With but a gesture, the defunct power cable snapped out of its socket and she hooked up a portable power core in its place. From a toolbelt she pulled out several gadgets that were probably highly illegal to own, let alone use, plugging them into a few of the data ports. Only then did she hit the buttons to turn the system on. Her devices started their work, automatically slicing into the system, bypassing security barriers and searching for the information she desired. Now all she had to do was wait. Hopefully none were the wiser about her presence.

As Jace continued to follow the presence of what he presumed had been the attacker, further warning signals flared up across the holographic display of his helm.

Warning: Temple Breach Detected

The Supreme Commander cursed silently, but in a way, this likely confirmed much of what he expected. Few groups truly cared for what might remain in the ruins of the Jedi temple other than the Sith or the Jedi, and while matters had become strained between the Republic and the Order, he highly doubted even the most extreme offshoots of the Jedi would resort to terrorism to steal away their old secrets.

Response times were slow, much of the emergency services and military responders had yet to properly react. He may have been named Supreme Commander this very day, but they were still not used to receiving direct orders in the manner he had intended to give them. This would have to change, but right now wasn't the time for reform, he had to act before more bombs went off.

Beneath his armour, Jace rolled his shoulders, before with a steady release of breath, he ran forwards, throwing himself back out the shattered window from which he had arrived. He fell for half a second before with a slow blink, he triggered the jets on his suit. While the Havoc Armour had been based of the Mandalorians, to avoid the structural weakness of the external jetpack, the Havoc armour instead relied on a series of small jets that were more designed to direct falling or for the vacuum of space. He had to fire every single one and burn out their fuel supplies to propel him the distance he needed, and even then, it was hardly a fine art. Maybe not fine, but it was fast.

Jace Maclom burned through the air in a streak of igniting fuel, white and orange. The distance blurred away, only slowing when his suit accounted for the fact he had to survive the landing. With a heavy crash, he connected with the roof upon which his target had been spotted, coming to a crashing halt in what was definitely an emergency landing, rolling several times before he sprang up, pistol at the ready. The indirect form of flight had meant he had more distance than he would have liked between his target and him, but it was better than being several blocks away with a sidearm.

"Drop your weapons, down on the ground." Jace's voice carried 'loud' over the external speakers of his armoured suit, to be heard easily over even the noise of traffic and disaster around them, steadily pacing towards the unidentified target.

With @Heat

As the Sith assassin watched the Republic supreme commander ascend closer towards him. A smirk danced across his lips at the sight of it, and all of the commotion he had apparently caused. He had drawn eyes away from the infiltration of the temple. The day before he laid his trap he had spent a day around Coruscant, part of it he’d paid a visit to the smouldering ruins of the Jedi Order’s former home. It sent chills down his spine, the sight of it. Even from a distance as it was blocked off by the Republic. It must have been glorious watching it burn on that day of reckoning for the Jedi. Such a stuffy, ignorant group deserved no less.

He did indeed intend to not have to face this fool down, Zes would have preferred if Malcolm had gone up in flames inside of his apartment. Left as a cooked corpse, a proper death for a constant pain in the side to the Empire. Still, he had the advantage here. His identity was still well hidden, he had no need to call upon the Force. No reason to bare his lightsabers, his superiors had told him exactly not to do that. The planet wide city gave a multitude of escape avenues. Plenty of alleyways to disappear down, places where the security did not care to look deep enough. As always, Zes was confident.

He gave a brief glance at Malcolm, then ran to the side where a dark blue speeder awaited him. He climbed into the driver’s side, locked his fingers around the controls and slammed his foot into the ignition pedal. The undercover Sith zoomed away from his position, intending to escape the supreme commander and any of the man’s lackies.

This is a stupid plan.

To say the thought crossed Jace’s mind would perhaps exaggerate the amount Jace Malcom actually ‘thought’ at times like these. He was a man of action by nature, one that could analyse a hell of a lot more data than most while in such a state, but it didn’t change who he was.

Armoured boots clanked against the building’s surface as he burst into a run, already, jets that had already burned through their fuel reserves sputtered to a semblance of life as the advanced armour anticipated the advancing drop. He had a moment, the blaster wouldn’t do it, the speeder could take the shot, nor could he guarantee a killing shot in the window of opportunity he had.

This is a really stupid plan.

With a sudden inhale and exhale of breath, the Supreme Commander of the Republic military jumped. What had been solid ground gave way to a sheer drop to the cityscape below, so far one would struggle to even see the top layer of Coruscant's many separate levels of habitation. Traffic blurred beneath him. Jace took in none of this, all he saw was the target and the speeder they were on. Gravity began to take hold of him just a moment too soon.

The impact of what could generously be considered a large man in full combat armour was enough to push the civilian speeder into a momentary downward spiral. Jace got one hand, then two hands, to the metallic surface, losing his blaster in the process, but his suit soon magnetised him to the craft. A good thing too, even with a strong grip the prospect of hanging on to a speeder about to hit its acceleration as it careened downwards wasn’t one even a hero of the Great Galactic War would be likely to consider. For now, before the assailant could gain control of the vehicle, it was all Jace could do to simply hold on.

Zes’ eyes went wide as the armored man clasped onto the front of the speeder, an incredibly bold move. But not one that was entirely unexpected considering the commander’s history of risk in the battlefield during the war.The Sith forcefully lifted the controls up to regain control, breathing heavy as the spiral downwards into speeding traffic sent a chill through his spine. With a frantic yank he managed to level the vessel, avoiding catastrophe. The panic in his veins ceased as he was in full control. A terrible prospect for his target who clung to the hood practically at Zes’ mercy. He slammed on the ignition, as the speeder powered forward into the busy traffic.

He rapidly shifted left and right, doing his damndest to fling Malcom off the hood. If he couldn’t send the man flying off then he’d scrape him against a building. With a quick glance, an affirmation that he had buckled in he shifted the speeder. He watched as the sides floated around him, then smiled as the rapidly moving vessel was now upside down. The Falleen was still in control as he whizzed through traffic. The force guided him, cautioning him of any imminent dangers he could not see. Horns honked and brakes slammed around him as he dodged other speeders, making as many near collisions as he could.

Jace was immediately very thankful he was wearing his helmet. The world spun and lurched around him, but the stabilisation sensors within his armour and helm shielded him from the worst of the discombobulation. Still, it was a disconcerting experience to remain hanging from the wildly turning vehicle in the middle of heavy traffic by only the magnetic force of his armour. His initial instinct was to reach for his sidearm, now magged to his thigh, but the forces throwing him about reduced his ability to aim successfully to practically nothing. Perhaps he had prevented the Assassin from an easy escape, but it seemed beyond him to finish the job himself. The thought brought a growl of frustration to Malcom’s lips.

There was one final parting gift he could leave, however, momentarily bracing both hands on the vehicle, another gesture within his helm activated a secondary module within the armour, a small tracking device slipping from his palm to attach to the speeder. He highly doubted an accomplished agent would fail to notice it for long, but it might give the Republic forces a chance to catch up, at the worst, it was simply another pain for the attacker to deal with, and Jace was petty enough to take some joy from that. Once the tracker was set, he exhaled slowly, calming himself despite the chaos around him. Meditation was a Jedi trick, but, well, it had its uses.

In the next moment, the Supreme Commander threw himself from the speeder, pushing off against it, the magnetic lock of his armour disabling with the motion, and for the third time in one evening Jace Malcom found himself suspended in nothing. This time, however, it was remarkably short lived. The armoured form of the ex-trooper immediately struck a large freighter among the bustling traffic of Coruscant, the force jarring through him, and he half span-away due to the impact. He flailed out with one hand, just about catching the rim of the vehicle to arrest his descent, once again the enhanced grip of his armour keeping him from the plummeting drop below. While he was rather glad to have survived, even with the advanced systems of his armour, the sight of the would-be-assassin was soon lost to him in the blur of the skyline.

A flash of relief shivered through Zes as he felt Malcom lose his grip and fall. The undercover assassin peaked his head to the side and watched as the armored man fell. A smirk formed on the Falleen's face as he watched the fool fall through traffic seemingly headed for a fall not even he would survive. The smirk disappeared more quickly than it came as Malcom impacted with a large freighter then latched himself onto it. Luck was not on Zes' side today. He sighed angrily then clenched onto the controls of his speeder and rocketed forward as he sped through traffic, getting out of the sight of the armored commander. He had failed in his attempt to take the man's life, a rarity for the skilled assassin. Malcom had been a constant thorn on the Sith's side for a very long time, his death would've been welcome news for many in the Empire. Still the day was not lost entirely, he had provided an ample distraction for the infiltration of the Temple and now he had to flee.

Zes suspected just about every single Republic soldier on Coruscant knew of his attack on Malcom, though his identity had not been compromised. He needed to ditch this speeder as soon as possible then find his way back to the underbelly of the world where his contact awaited his return. A change of clothes would be a wise idea as well. He could still disappear into the streets then leave this wretched, disgusting world behind. It was so rift with corruption and failure, a true monument to the Republic. He couldn't wait to be off it and back to Korriban.

The sith's eyes caught sight of a parking lot to located below the flow of traffic. Next to an apartment complex, it would do for a spot to discard his ship. He was not that far from where his contact suggested them to meet up once the mission was finished. A seedy, unimportant dive bar tucked in the mean streets of Coruscant where the authorities did not often go. Once he met up with his contact then he'd be ferried off world before going on his way back to Korriban. He wouldn't have dared to fly his Imperial Interceptor to this world, that would have set off all kinds of alarms. Instead he had to rely on the trusting his contact though Zes had no reason to suspect the man of treachery beyond his usual paranoia of people. He had not told the contact of his exact plannings, as far as they knew he was simply a Sith that had business on Coruscant. The credits in the man's pockets ended any potential questioning.

The speeder gently set down in the parking lot, in a corner of the busy lot. He could ditch the vehicle here, take everything he brought with then start walking towards the meetup point. Along the way he'd find a merchant selling clothing and take care of the issue. Zes briefly thought of torching the speeder but that would only draw more eyes. There was nothing to link it to him. The robed assassin climbed out of the speeder with swiftness, the only thing he brought with him not on attached to him was a compact satchel containing some essential supplies and explosives. As he hooked it around one shoulder the Falleen walked quietly away from the speeder and out of the parking lot. None of the denizens of the area gave him much more than a passing glance before returning to their mundane lives.

Zes walked down a long busy street filled with people, aliens of all shapes and varieties. As he did so many times before he seemingly disappeared into the crowd, well on his way to getting off Coruscant. The burden of failure hung in his head, the thought of Malcom still taking breath jabbed at the back of his head. He felt his hand begin to shake in anger before he seized control of his emotions. The assassin would address his own failures once he was offworld and back in Sith space. Still, the day was far from a lost one.