Only a Matter of Time
From the hotel balcony, Republic City looked like a dream.
Cloudcutters reached for the sky, their dazzling lights glowing against the night. The airlanes were crisscrossed by zipping speeders, each of them in such a hurry to get to wherever they were going. Down below, pedestrians scurried like ants.
Hosnian Prime truly slept for no one.
Thayne sighed as he went inside and set his rifle case on the bed. With a click, he popped open the lid to reveal an impressive railgun staring back at him: the shadow who traded it for a life had endearingly called it ‘Furthestkiller’. Tonight, the assassin would put its name to the test.
He loaded a single slug into the chamber and took up his position. Down in Senate Square, his mark was sitting on a cafe terrace. Through the scope, Thayne watched as the wrinkled Alliance war veteran sipped from a steaming mug, laughing and chatting away. Sharing stories, reminiscing about paltry honorifics. Thayne figured he looked old enough to have been around when the Sith tore through his homeworld.
If only the poor captain knew how enticing the crosshairs found his head.