Capital of Bastion, Warehouse District
Crouched atop of the roof of an old and abandoned warehouse, Xevek absentmindedly pulled his cloak tighter around him with one hand as the cold wind cut through him to his bones. Or, at least, that was how it felt to the Iridonian, use to heavy freezing air of the desert nights and not heavy, or even gentle, winds that carried the cold on their back. Still, he did not shift in place or move from his perch despite the unpleasant cold, focused as he was. Nor did his breathing hitch in response to the cold as he continued to stare down the scope of the rifle tucked up against the bone mask that he wore. He had his orders, he had his assignment, and Xevek was someone who despised failure. As such, the two lead him to continue to sit still and silent despite his discomfort.
The orders had been delivered through the private channels utilised by the shadow enshrouded members of the Sith Empire known as the Assassins. Loath e as he was by nature to take and obey orders as if he were nothing more than a collared pet, Xevek knew when to challenge orders given, when to twist them and when to simply bow his head in acknowledgment and perform to the best of his ability. This situation was one that fell under the latter category. Though no name had been given to him, nor description or descriptors of who his target was meant to be, what had been delivered had been more than enough to tell him that the orders were to be followed no matter what. A single location located within the very warehouse district he was no within along with a date. No name, no description and only the bare details meant to guide him to his target accompanied by the image of a white snake.
Having arrived the night before, Xevek had already prowled through warehouses below him, ascertaining that the area seemed to be largely bereft of life, left abandoned and empty. The only warehouse he had seen fit not to enter and examine had been the one that he now peered at through the rifle scope, the one he had been directed towards in his orders. Signs in the heavyset dust around the entrances and under the doors themselves proved that activity had been present and rather than risking running into whoever his mark was, he had chosen instead to retreat. Instead, he had sliced and retrieved the schematics of the building, simple as they were. Now, he simply waited for the time to present itself to strike.
Watching as the single heat signature sat through the thermal sights of the scope, Xevek felt his hearts begin to race as the moment seemed to settle around him. Above, the moon vanished behind clouds and the only illumination now came from within the warehouse itself, by no means enough to cast light upon his form. Moving from where there had been shadows cast by the moon towards the edge of the roof, Xevek slowly lowered himself into a kneeling position as he brought the rifle up to bear, lining the crosshairs up on his targets.
Confident that his mark would have no warning, for he had taken precautions to occlude his Presence within the Force since he had first set foot within the district and had doubled down on said precautions since he had lay his gaze on his target, the Iridonian left his index finger curl around the trigger as he smoothly clicked the safety off. Feeling the world slow around him as his focus shrunk until all his reality was comprised off was his mark, the plan and his breathing, the words that had accompanied his orders flashed across his mind's eye as his breathing hitched momentarily, his entire body freezing apart from his finger and the rifle bucked in his grip three times. 'Eliminate in close-quarters.'
Unlike what seemed like the majority of the Galaxy, Xevek preferred to use slugthrowers over blasters and, as such, a muffled crack would ring out three times as the silenced rifle sent three slugs hurtling through the air towards his targets. The two lights he had been able to target from his location shattered, casting the room within into darkness as the third and final shot would be directed towards the leg of the thermal signature.
Moving swiftly after the third and final shot had been fired, before the moon could peak out from behind the moon, Xevek lunged sideways as he let the rifle drop out of his grip and towards the roof. Landing on the ground below, in the shadowed alley between two warehouses, thankful for the fact that an overhang had been present to stop his fall from being one directly to the ground, Xevek surged forwards to cross the gap towards the warehouse his target was within, seeking out the side door he had identified earlier as being the most easy to pick. All the while, he kept his senses sharp for any sign of retaliation while the ethereal sight granted to him through the Force was focused in on the Force Presence of his target.
His plan was rather simple in his mind. Let his mark be on the look out for a sniper, let them turn their gaze and focus to the rooftops while he entered the building from below. Further, by doing it this way, he had been able to rob his mark of sight, of light, leaving them lost in an arena of darkness where his species' ability to see in near pitch black darkness would be most advantageous.