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| - Planet: Coruscant Shortly after the Battle of Yavin I find myself yet again in some dive, a foul-smelling bar far enough down the duracrete canyons of Coruscant to prevent the existence of natural sunlight for all but a few hours every day, tracking some scumbag whose life would mean nothing to me, if not for the sizable sum on his head. A professional mercenary has to eat, and bounty hunting is as good a way as any. It keeps the skill I had learned over a decade ago from a now-deceased father in the jungles of Manda’yaim, or in the Basic tongue, spoken widely across the Galaxy, Mandalore. Bounty hunting, on a good day, wouldn’t be my choice career, but Mando mercs are in high demand, possibly due to Boba Fett’s reputation across the Galaxy, though that’s just because he wears the armor. As far as I know, he’s not a true Mando, though my father did speak of a Jango Fett that was Mandalore of our clans before the Clone Wars, but those days are long past and of little concern to me. If a client can pay well, I’ll do the job. I’m good at hunting. Mandalorians are the best soldiers you can hire, and I do the best I can to prove it. Anyways, I’m in a dark-as-hell dive somewhere in the lower part of Coruscant’s vertical city, sipping from a bottle of Corellian ale, silently watching my target across the cantina. His name was Eres Dredcot, a scrawny little man that wouldn’t seem all that suspicious or dangerous if I hadn’t gotten an assignment from the local Imperial garrison commander to take this barve out. He and his little gang had somehow hijacked a secure shipment of E-11 blaster rifles and a small assault speeder recently, and, naturally, the Imperials weren’t terribly happy about that. They wanted the shipment back, and the guy who stole it dead as that Tarkin guy the Imperial HoloVision news reporter was reporting on. Some stuck-up Grand Moff killed in a shuttle accident not long after an Imperial victory at Ord Biniir. Rumor had it that that little victory was being hailed more than usual to cover up some incident near Yavin, but I don’t care. The little Rebellion that had been growing over the past few years was practically good as dead. Getting lucky once won’t win the civil war that’s been ripping the Galaxy apart. But discord is good for someone in my business. I watch that little scrawny scumbag laugh with his partners, a Devaronian and a sizable human, probably over an unheard joke or wise remark. My hand slid beneath the poncho covering my armor, hiding it from casual view, to the sawed-off Bryar rifle holstered at my side. The entire bar didn’t need to know I was Mando. I’m not big on attracting undue attention to myself. I’m also not big on starting unnecessary brawls in an underworld dive, so I keep my weapon holstered. Patience is a virtue, and waiting a little longer will give me the opportunity to test out the MerrSonn M80 assault/sniper rifle I just bought with the credits earned over the past few hunts. That weapon will end up being worth the sum I paid, I could feel it. I sit there for what feels like hours, switching between watching some correspondence on the Ord Biniir victory and the target on the other side of the bar. I was only halfway through my bottle of ale when Dredcot got up with his buddies and walked to the exit. I watched them go, and waited for the other two bodyguards that had occupied a booth by the door leave behind them; I then grabbed my gear bag and got up. Tossing a small-denomination cred chip to bartender, I walk out the door and into the perpetual gloom of the undercity. This part of Coruscant was never well-lit. This far down, city maintenance workers didn’t typically replace bulbs in the streetlights. It was constantly gloomy; the majority of the light came from gaudy signs advertising bars and nightclubs that probably appealed to those who dwelled this far down. Criminal activity was common here. I was careful to keep my gear bag close. Last thing I needed was for some pickpocket to somehow grab my assault rifle or helmet when I wasn’t looking. I followed Dredcot down the main street, keeping my distance and stopping every now and then to stare at signs or the occasional shop window. I varied the side of the thoroughfare I walked on, hoping they wouldn’t notice they had a tail, if they had sobered up long enough to look. I honestly don’t think I’ll have to worry about that; the Devaronian constantly tripped over his own feet. The horns on top of his head nearly speared Dredcot through the back when he had one of the more violent falls. That could have made my job easier, but where’s the fun in that? They walked for several minutes before turning off onto into a narrow alley. I watched and noted what doorway they had disappeared into, and then I continued down to the next alley. Turning off into the darkness, I walked down, watching for what I was looking for. I finally found it in the form of a ladder, leading up into the gloom. I mounted the ladder and climbed, scaling two rungs at a time. I passed a balcony after maybe four stories. Climbing higher, I stopped five feet above the balcony, and pushed myself off. I landed in a crouch on the balcony in a clatter of armor and rifle parts in the gear bag. I opened the bag and pulled out the helmet in the bag. I looked at it for a second, a traditional Mandalorian helmet with a T-shaped visor. The visor was framed by yellow-gold paint, but the rest was a dull, dark grey metal. I removed the poncho that had concealed my armor. Folding it and putting it into the gear bag, I grabbed the helmet and put it over my head. The world was suddenly brighter, illuminated by the night-for-day vision built into the HUD of my helmet. A full 360-degree view greeted me, allowing me total awareness of my surroundings. I pulled out the rifle from the bag and quickly assembled it. I silently attached the barrel to the front of the blaster, unfolded the collapsing stock, and mounting the scope atop the blaster rifle. Activating the scope, it automatically linked itself to my HUD, allowing me a small view of the world through the scope of the rifle. I slung the sling over my neck, allowing the rifle to hang at my waist. I activated a wrist laser-torch, and I began cutting my way through the door leading into the building. A minute of cutting left a rectangular cut in the door, about six feet high. I kicked it in and stepped through into an even-deeper gloom. I lifted my rifle and stepped through. I scanned the room quickly, pointing the rifle in the direction I looked. I quickly switched over to infrared viewing on my HUD, ensuring there were no biological in the room I went in expecting trouble. I got it in the form of a giant Trandoshan leaping at me from a side doorway. He overshot me, landing behind me. I could hear him snarling in the guttural language of the Trandoshan lizards. I brought my rifle up and squeezed off a burst of shots. It ripped into the Trandoshan’s gut, turning the giant lizard into several hundred pounds of charred meat. I saw him drop, but I could swear I heard more snarling. I turned, and caught another Trandoshan’s claw across my helmet’s visor. I was knocked off my feet with the force of the blow, hitting the ground hard with a clatter of armor plating on the metal floor of the apartment. I reached for my rifle, finding I had lost it when I fell. I reached for my sidearm, still belted at my right thigh. The sawed-off Bryar rifle came up just as the Trandoshan raised his claws for another blow. I squeezed the trigger, launching several burst of plasma through the lizard’s brain. He dropped, yet another few hundred pounds of burnt lizard flesh smashing to the ground. I brought up my Bryar, scanning the apartment with infrared, but the only thing that came up was the rapidly-cooling bodies of two dead lizards. I switched back to night-for-day and grabbed my rifle from the floor. I left the now-smells-of-cooked-Trando apartment and went out into a hallway, following it away from the apartment I had blasted my way through and went to the other side of the building. I armed my cutting torch again and burnt through the doorway of another apartment. My infrared reported no one was inside this one, so I cut another rectangular, kicked it down, and marched in as if it were my home. I walked to the back and onto yet another balcony. Across this alley was the building my target had disappeared into. The building was dark, as all the buildings in this part of town were, and relatively windowless. There was, however, a small vent for the building’s heating system a few stories up the roof. My IR was glowing with the heat given off from it. I fired my right gauntlet’s liquid cable up to the roof, tugged on it to ensure it was secure, and I activated the winch. I was pulled off the balcony and over the gap of the alley way to the other building, and up. The cable pulled me to the lip of the roof; I grabbed the edge and hauled myself up. I found the grating for the vent and pulled it off with a sharp tug. It was big enough for my broad, armored shoulders to fit inside. I dropped in and slid down until the vent halted at an L-shaped junction. I crouched and pulled myself forward to the grating that was there. I pushed it out, then pulled myself out into a dark hallway. I could hear distant voices, but they weren’t anywhere nearby. I imagine this was the base of Dredcot’s little gang: if I searched hard enough, I’d probably find a warehouse-like area with crates of pirated E-11 rifles and an assault speeder, plus other goodies. Pack-rats were like that. I followed the voices, stealthily moving deeper into the building. I had my assault rifle raised, just in case someone got in my way. Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad, I mutter to myself. It was a Mando phrase that meant, “Today’s a good day for someone else to die.” I said that to myself a lot on hunts. It’s almost like a tradition. It’s pretty much the Phiht Piroc Code of Survival. I had a lot of Codes. It was my way of keeping my thoughts organized, I guess. The voices led me to exactly what I was expecting: I found myself on a catwalk twenty feet above a large room, littered with crates of stolen weapons, a small flotilla of speeders, tools from various toolkits scattered around the room, and what looked a hell of a lot like an E-WEB tripod-mounted turret. Not good. The good news, however, was my target was no more than a hundred yards from me, down on the main floor of the chamber near what looked like an AAC-1 hovercraft. He was talking with a group of goons that included the Devaronian from earlier, a Zabrak, two humans, and what looked like a Lasat. I hadn’t been noticed…. Yet. Calmly, I switched my rifle over to its sniper setting. Instead of a flurry of laser bolts, it would shoot a single, high-powered shot over the distance of about a half-klick. At this distance, it was definitely overkill, but it was better to have a sure thing in my book. I raised the rifle, lined up my shot with the side of Dredcot’s head. At this close range, his head took up the entire scope. I centered the crosshairs on the side of his head. I inhaled, then calmly exhaled. I tightened my finger on the trigger- and squeezed. What happened next was nothing short of stunning. This was the first time I had ever used the M80 in a sniper capacity, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. To put it simply, Dredcot’s head pretty much exploded. The whole side of his head was suddenly vaporized by the blaster shot. Smoke rose from what was left of his head, a reddish color from the blood that had been cauterized from the intense heat. There wasn’t blood or gore really: his head just turned into crispy meat faster than it took to say it. Naturally, his goons were caught with their pants at their ankles. It’s to be expected; they’re a bunch of unorganized thugs who just had their leader blown away right in front of them. If I weren’t a professional, I’d have been shocked too. Then their heads turned my way, everyone in the room, and caught sight of me, a grey-armored Mandalorian warrior perched on a catwalk with a sniper rifle, still smoking from the beautiful shot that had sent Eres Dredcot straight to Chaos. I waved and quickly ducked back into the doorway and took off as twenty laser shots flew through the space I had just occupied a moment ago. I swear I heard that E-WEB open up too. I’m glad I got out of range quick enough to avoid that. I sprinted to the vent and climbed in, pulling the grate back into place. I may be bold enough to blow a crime boss away in their own fortress, but I’m not stupid to stand around and become a moving target for a bunch of trigger-happy criminals, even if the majority of them couldn’t hit the broad side of a Star Cruiser. I didn’t survive this long being an idiot. Before I zipline back up to the roof, I had to be sure of one thing: there was another, though much smaller, vent that led to what I assumed was the heater in the basement. The icing on the cake was soon at hand. I pulled out of my gear bag a small, dull-metal orb, studded with blinking red lights. I held a class-A thermal detonator, capable of leveling this entire building, and possibly parts of the buildings around it, and perhaps the whole block if the basement couldn’t contain the blast. I armed the little bomb with a five-minute timer and dropped it into the shaft into the basement. I’m sure the Empire won’t mind losing a shipment of blasters, and assault speeder, and what I’m going to assume was their E-WEB. They could afford more, and they’d probably be grateful a bunch of thugs were running around with weapons the Empire paid for. I launch my liquid cable again and zipped to the top of the air duct to the roof. I ran to the edge, hooked my grappling hook to the side of the building, and rappelled to the ground. At that point, I ran. I don’t care who sees me now. I just want my shebs clear of what will soon become a blazing-hot funeral pyre for Dredcot’s criminal gang and their stolen blasters.
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