Downtown Ta'a Chume'Dan was abuzz with mid-afternoon life, as the Hapan sun stretched across a wide and bright sky, threatening to transform its white wash into a golden glow. The air was calm, but there was a underlying sense of unease about the place. With Mandalorian occupation and the ongoing conflicts across the galaxy, the once beautiful and peaceful Hapes had begun to shiver in anxiety. As such, many of the capital's denizens sought to fill their daily lives with cheap and easy distractions, never fully paying attention to their immediate surroudings.
'The trap of society,' thought a figure who walked quietly along the inner streets of the central city, cloaked and concealed. Beneath her long coat she wore carefully crafted armour perfect for light operations such as this, and a short, thin blade and blaster perfect to complete any operation commissioned to her. Her eyes, through her binocular goggles, scoped out an open square from a distance that surrounded some kind of courthouse. She had been tipped off that her target would inevitably end up loitering around such an area.
The place teemed with people; it was impossible to gain any sort of confirmed visual. She clenched a fist in frustration, and anxiousness filled her. Was she good enough for this job? The client offered a large sum for this target, and now the pressure was beginning to build. She breathed deeply, containing her concern, and her eyes scanned more quickly for her target. A male Rodian, 30s, scar along the left side of his neck, chain smoker, aggitated and anxious disposition.
"Where are you..." she hummed quietly.
'The trap of society,' thought a figure who walked quietly along the inner streets of the central city, cloaked and concealed. Beneath her long coat she wore carefully crafted armour perfect for light operations such as this, and a short, thin blade and blaster perfect to complete any operation commissioned to her. Her eyes, through her binocular goggles, scoped out an open square from a distance that surrounded some kind of courthouse. She had been tipped off that her target would inevitably end up loitering around such an area.
The place teemed with people; it was impossible to gain any sort of confirmed visual. She clenched a fist in frustration, and anxiousness filled her. Was she good enough for this job? The client offered a large sum for this target, and now the pressure was beginning to build. She breathed deeply, containing her concern, and her eyes scanned more quickly for her target. A male Rodian, 30s, scar along the left side of his neck, chain smoker, aggitated and anxious disposition.
"Where are you..." she hummed quietly.