“Let’s try this again.” He wore the rank of captain on his collar, and his face said that he was on the verge of losing his patience. “You were caught, with the head of this Nagai,” he pushed a picture across the table’s surface. “One, Dragun Rotarl. You’re not a licensed Bounty Hunter, and murder of the streets of Corrusant is illegal. What do you have to say for yourself?” The captain slammed his fists down on the table and leaned over, glaring at the Mira’luka.
A smile crossed Zand’s face, and looked into the eyes of the captain. “You will turn off the recording devices.” The captain blinked and reached over, keying in a sequence on the control pad. The light of the recorder turned off. Zand nodded.
“You want to know how I ended up with his head?” Zand smiled and folded his hands over his chest. “Fine. I’ll tell you….”
…….
It started three weeks ago when I received the halo from Darth Chade. It wasn’t him, but it was obvious, an imperial counselor wants nothing with me, it was him. The Counselor wanted me to meet her on Corrusant, no time, no place, no information. Who was I to turn down an invitation?
I took my leave from my crew, we weren’t doing anything important, gathering more information on the Sins, nothing I couldn’t continue from Corrusant. I took the Silent Death and headed to the central world. The trip took me three days, and was ultimately uneventful.
Now as you can guess, I have a few bounties on my head. It comes with the territory. . People in my business look at it as a mark of pride, the more cred the more fame, the better you are. No, I’m not going to tell you my name, at least not yet. Let me finish.
So I arrived on Corrusant, purchased a place to keep my fighter safe, and went for a walk. Now, VERY few people have seen my face, and lived. You, for the time being, I’ll make an exception. All my bounties just show my helmet, pity. I took off the helmet to walk the streets of Corrusant, keeps the fans from hounding me, and the bounty hunters from dieing. It’s less work for you, trust me.
It was late, and my meeting wasn’t until the next morning. So I paid some credits and bedded down for the night. No there’s no record, so I’m not going to bother telling you. I slept well, too well in fact. I woke up with nothing but my clothes and a note. My weapons, my armor, and my money were all gone. Just a note: Wellington's Bar 1000hours. –C. That’s it. I smiled, and walked out whistling, like I owned the planet.
Now, I’m not one to walk around unarmed, but on this rock, owning weapons with out a license is illegal. Sad really, but I guess it makes your job easier. So I did what anyone without money and a weapon does, I went to the worst part of town, down under everything. Death sticks? Deathheads? Muggers? Paradise. I walked around like I had a million credits in my pocket, and it wasn’t long before some desperate fool took the bait. He tried to mug me, it was a good attempt really, he just didn’t know how to use his knife. I took it from him, and left him dead for the trouble. Didn’t even get blood on my shoes. Time to head for the meeting.
I arrived at the bar, took a seat and blended in. It’s a skill my kind master early. I knew before he showed himself that he was there. Rotarl was as good as me, hells we trained together. I wasn’t hiding he was, maybe that’s why he didn’t see me. It wasn’t hard to see him, I’m a Mira’luka. I could see him before he was 5 seconds in the room.
What? Don’t look so surprised. Mira’luka aren’t that rare, I just refuse to wear the face band, these glasses look much more normal. It lets people underestimate me just like you did.
So, as I was saying. He crept into the bar and took a seat in the back, trying to hide. It was only polite that I introduce myself. A flick of the wrist and I sent my blade soaring across the room, hardly anyone noticed, a high pitched whistle a gush of air, and death. My calling card. I didn’t kill anyone though, just put the blade six inches from his neck in the wall. To his credit, he didn’t even flinch. Just turned his head and locked eyes with me. I can’t explain this; I can tell from your eyes you’ve never killed anyone, in cold blood. Never had that moment, that rush, as you are God holding the fate of this person in your hands then ending it. I have, he had, and we can see that. It’s a bond of sorts, and in that moment, when our eyes met, we knew it was time.
I walked over to the booth and sat down, pulling my blade from the wall, and concealing it in my coat again. Rotarl nodded at me, and I did the same in kind and we waited. It was time.
It wasn’t long before a shadow joined us. He blended into the thrum of the crowd, and moved with a practiced silence and grace that only comes with time and experience. He sat down and pulled back his hood. Darth Chade was a Blood Carver, and an old one at that. The dark side had taken it’s toll here and there, but ultimately he was the same as I had first met him. I inclined my head slightly, as much of a bow as my training would allow in public. Not the place to draw attention. Rotarl did the same.
He held a raspy voice that is still able to send chills down my spine, just the same as the first day he held my life in his hands. “It’s time. Two assassins and only one can be my apprentice. It’s the way of things. I’ve taken your possessions, and your lives. You will both get back the first, the second only one can walk away with.” He handed each of us a data pad and nodded. “The first to lay the others head on this table is my apprentice. Death comes to all of us, today is your day to die. Prove you have control of fate. Let the hunt begin.”
I don’t know who moved first, but we both moved faster then we’d moved before. My knife flew for where his neck was, and he had a blade sailing where I had sat. No noise, just death. Neither of us were hit, and neither of us were visible. We both pulled the force around us, and fled the bar. I looked at my pad as I ghosted through the streets, there was an address and two numbers.
The hunt was on.