Born Killer
He was free from some things, without all of it on- he felt free for the first time in a long time. The Mandalorian in him was ashamed that he wasn't wearing it. He didn't share his contemporaries opinions on the armor, the symbol of it. Lately, it felt more like a tool. What was he without it- that was the question he felt more important to ask, to ponder. It was freeing, it was awkward, it was... odd. A mix of emotions. But it felt good, in most respects. To be a regular person. To be amongst many. He walked through the festival- low light in most places. The lights had been dimmed or darkened, or even turned off for the first time all the rotational year for two whole days in the upper levels. The stars were visible for the first time in decades on Coruscant.
The Empire had brought the festival on to give the impression they cared. Cultural milestones, appeasing the local populace. He wondered, pondered even, if the Alliance had celebrated the sacred Coruscanti festival. But perhaps they were too busy repairing the damage to the planet, too busy fighting off yet another incursion onto the planet. Perhaps even the people forgot. But now-
The streets were lined with people. Red lights hung, dimly displaying shadowy figures moving about. Quiet, hushed tones. People were naturally more inclined to be quieter in the darker spaces. And the costumes, dark as it was, helped him blend in even more. His eye black, normally a tactical decision, was applicable here. It hid the whites of his eyes, the bright blues of them hidden by smudges of dark circles around them. The stars were bright tonight, enticing the many visitors, diplomats and who's-who of the galaxy come to bear witness what was visible on every other planet in the galaxy, if not more so here. It was decadence, it was hubris, it was folly in most cases to want to see the lights of the galaxy on Coruscant.
But it made for good cover. The Black Sun's dark shine needed to be here, in the economic and cultural center of the galaxy. He had been given a task, a directive, and would complete it so. It was a simple task-
Retrieve a package from a courier, and use the festival for cover. Don't open, don't ask questions about the package. All he knew was that it was large enough to require a backpack.
But Fenn knew it was not that simple. It was not often that things went smoothly for criminality. Especially on Coruscant.
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