Leave it Better!
The Caromed Clan had maintained a presence on Taris for centuries. They did not govern the planet - even at their height, the small clan hadn't been able to claim that kind of power or authority. Taris itself was almost ungovernable by nature. Millenia ago, the planet had been a half-polluted wasteland with the ruins of endless cities broken up by patches of wasteland. Now on the other side of several invasions, galaxy-shattering conflicts, and hell itself rising? Taris had ascended to a fully polluted ecumenopolis populated with misery and wealth disparity. Taris was the gutter where those poor souls came who had yet to fall into the bottomless depths of Nar Shadda and Coruscant. It was also, conveniently, a place where a Mandalorian could always come to disappear.
The Talinn District was one of the more miserable places on Taris. Wracked by egregious wealth disparity, glittering towers of neon cast the street-level populations in an all-hours haze of polluted smog and rain. The powerful moved about in sheltered speeders, clad in protective gear whenever they had to stand beneath Taris' sky. Some of them even imported air, rather than breathe in even the filtered muck the planet produced. Deep in the Talinn district, Clan Caromed made their home. The small clan maintained holdings at every level of society, laundering witnesses, friends, and corpses from Mandalorian allies into the hungering labrynth of Taris' streets.
The Clan's main and most clear 'fortress', however, was a series of clinics and hospitals scattered through the Talinn district. Though they could not afford to dispense charity at a grand scale, these facilities ensured a constant supply of gratittude for affordable services as well as giving young Mandalorians seeking to join the Life-Bearers a place to hone their craft. Additionally, the hospitals and clinics were one of the primary ways that Caromed served the Mandalorian Empire - simply flashing your clan sigil would often be enough to speak with a doctor without questions asked.
Zee had just finished up a shift at one of these hospitals. Not as long as he might usually - he was just passing through, visiting home on his way to somewhere else. Spending a week or two at home didn't feel right without working at least a little bit, even if only one of his mothers actually cared about that sort of thing. Unfortunately, Zee lived in fear of her judgement.
After changing out of his scrubs, the svelte young man pulled a hood up and stepped out of the hospital and into the pouring rain of the Talinn district. His medical vambrace reported high toxicity - the heavily polluted rain would likely be sufficient to cause at least a rash with a few minutes of skin contact. Zee muted the alarm and continued walking. On the road, he might wear something light and freeing. But on Taris? Full body cover, waterproof. That was the starting point. Anything was better than nothing; garbage bags were preferable to getting soaked. Getting soaked in the middle of the night while walking alone was probably a death sentence.
He wore his snap-baton openly on his waist, his clan cymbol across his back. Such displays would normally make Zee uncomfortable, but in the Talinn district? Being an easy mark was the leading cause of death, easily.
B Beevin Kyr'am