Nar Shaddaa. It wasn't simply another moon floating around a more important planet. Many would actually argue the opposite. Nar Shaddaa, or as it was more commonly called the “Smuggler's Moon” or simply “the Moon” was much more than the cesspit of a planet it orbited. For many it was a stopping place, a hub of commerce with a dozen different jobs to be passed out to a dozen different people. Goods traveled in and out and, so long as the right Hutt was paid, nearly anything could be found there.
Nar Shaddaa was a place of many rules, the first and foremost being that the Hutt's rules were the rules. But for the most part, the Hutt's held no firm rules. The entire planet might as well have been divided up into countless sections, all with varying leaders. One didn't have to worry about the law getting in their way, so long as one knew where a Hutt drew the line, and how far over they could step before invoking their wrath.
To the eyes it was a mixture of dirty disgusting streets and bright neon. What few dark corners there were were indoors or back alleys off of the beaten path where the bright ever present neon refused to shed its light. Buildings stood tall and proud, corporations going about their work, factories pushing out their products, casinos making sure that their customers continued on with their addiction, and large apartment buildings whose tenants remained for the pure fact that they could not have their lifestyle anywhere else.
The people of the moon were a variety of workers, smugglers, bounty hunters, mercenaries, body guards, dealers, and crime lords all inhabiting the same place. They likely crossed paths, their lines of work not needing to be muttered or vaguely hidden. Here it didn't matter. If you were a smuggler, you among many others without having to resort to claiming to 'haul freight' or 'ferry passengers'. If you were a spice dealer, you were out on the street, or hidden away lest you invoke the wrath of your rivals. It was a place where people went to be themselves, but also a place where people went to hide everything.
Another unspoken rule of the moon was that if you were there, you were fair game. Of course as with all rules, there were exceptions, but unless you were someone important, it was extremely possible that your body could be hidden away and never found. This appealed to many, and appealed to no one all at the same time. It was a hunter's playground, and at the moment, that's just what she wanted.
The casino floor below her was full of life. People rushing here and there, laughing, cheering, drinking. It was exactly how she had wanted it to be. Gamblers flocked to this casino all hoping that they would be one of the few to make it big, though the majority would slink back home having been the ones paying for the winners. Others sat at the bars, watching the local Huttball matches on screens, cheering or booing as they watched their credits fly from their pockets as bets were lost and won.
Couples occasionally lead each other towards the elevators, and in turn their rooms, but that was the closest anyone ever got to her. She stood taller than some, hands along the railing, watching. She wore plated armor, her pack obviously equipped with rockets, or in other words your standard hunter's attire. Her face was hidden by a hood that left only her eyes and a bit of the skin around them open. One quick glance at her red eyes gave away the fact she was a Chiss, which was instantly confirmed by the blue skin.
Up above she noted the time again, the hour ticking off as growing close to midnight. Pushing away from the railing she entered an elevator, tapping the button for the fortieth floor, ten floors from the top. The elevator didn't so much as groan as it slowly worked its way upward, a faint ding ringing out as it arrived at its destination.
The hallway she exited out to was empty, though she knew the one that turned off to her left would not be. Instead it would have two people in it, guarding one of the rooms. The door to the room would have a number of locks on it, and was being constantly monitored by cameras at both ends of the hall along with one in front of it.
Inside the room was what mattered, though. The prize lay inside, or rather, the target. Darryl Kincaid would be sound asleep in his bed, recovering slowly from the night's spice intake. She had the layout of the room memorized, taking into account a number of places where guards would likely be stationed.
As she set off down the hall, she glanced down at her wrist, hitting a few buttons. From around the corner she heard a deep voice whispering, followed by another, both laced with concern, “What?”
Voice two was quick to respond, “They're sayin' that the cameras flick-...Wait...No. No. Scratch that. We're all back up and runnin'.”
One didn't sound overly convinced. In fact, he sounded rather worried, “The cameras what?
Two tried to reassure him, offering a laugh to go with his words, “They flickered. Ya know. Just kinda clicked on and off. Nothin' big. We're all good now, so quit worryin'.”
One grumbled out a response, “Quit worrying he says. Quit worrying when we're guarding the gangster spice head.”
Rounding the corner she drew quickly firing a shot off into who she assumed was Two's skull. He never even found time to aim the blaster rifle in his hand. The large human started to slump forward. Rushing forward she pushed the falling body, sending it sprawling forward straight into One.
He stared up at her in horror, his ear piece letting out a faint buzz. She plucked up Two's ear piece, resting it inside her hood, blaster focused on One's face. From the tiny device she heard another man's voice, screaming out in concern, “For the love of the kriffing stars tell me what the hell just happened, or so help me I'm gonna come up there and shoot the both of you.”
She rested the blaster up closer to the side of his head, nodding toward his ear piece. Not once did her eyes ever blink in that short span of time. One gulped loudly, and he was starting to sweat when he spoke, “We got it covered. Some hunter trying to make their play. We're all set back up now.” She nodded her approval, spinning the blaster around and bringing the grip down on the side of her face.
Pressing a few more buttons, she managed to catch over the ear piece, “Alright. Feeds back up. Watch better, will ya?”
Her attention quickly turned to the lock on the door, hands reaching down to pluck a data spike and her datapad off of her belt. The first two locks on the door were keyed, with One and Two likely hving the keys, the third and fourth would be pushed through with the tools. The last was a keypad.
Patting down the two guards she managed to find the keys she sought, palming them. It wouldn't shock her if the locks were monitored like everything else. She leaned in close, pulling the front of her hood down, letting out a deep breath against the keypad. She had to squint a bit, but she could just make out the three numbers that had been hit. From here it was a simple matter of deciding their order. First and last numbers were generally hit the hardest. She knew that much. Two must have had rather heavy fingers, she guessed, as she could easily make out where he had dragged his hands from number to number. The guessing game was done.
Sliding the two data spikes into locks three and four she brought the datapad out, staring at the screen. Rapidly typing and sliding through numerous screens was an easy matter. With her left hand she reached up entering the keypad's code, but neglecting to hit enter. Sliding the keys to the first two locks up and into place, she heard a distinct click, which was followed by a beep from her datapad. A quick button press brought three and four open, and with a swift hit of the enter button the entire door slid open. She replaced the keys to their respective owners, slipping inside after her tools were away, and gently closed the door.
The room wasn't much to speak of. A small walking area, a bathroom, a small thing that some might have considered a miniature living room, a kitchen area, and near the back what she had identified as the bedroom. The living room held a great view of the city beyond. From where she stood she couldn't make out anyone else standing in the room, though she didn't need to see them to hear them. Someone was up and about getting at midnight snack and making quite the ruckus in the process.
Slinking along, held tightly against the wall, she poked her head out. The large man in the kitchen wasn't the mark. With a precise motion he drew her blaster, and rounded the corner much like she had earlier, though this time she only gave him a second glance to confirm that he did indeed have a new hole in his head. She didn't even stop walking until she got to the bedroom door. Pressing her ear against it, she heard no motion, no sound, nothing.
Silently she opened it, and slipped inside. The mark was passed out on the bed, the night's spice likely still fresh in him. She shouldn't have known anything more than his name. As she always told her clients they were allowed to tell her as much or as little information as they wanted. If it wasn't her place to more she was more than accepting of that. Of course that never stopped her from finding out anyway. She almost had to at times just to hunt properly. One could not account for another's possible moves and actions if they didn't know enough about the other person. Darryl Kincaid, she had learned, had been a Hutt's top enforcers. That was a year ago. Flash forward three months from that and Kincaid has gone undercover in a small gang in an attempt to learn who exactly was funding them. Two months after that, he's hooked on spice, but it's not a problem. A month later and he's pulled out by the Hutt, who's starting to find the spy games are far too expensive. Three months later and Kincaid has lapsed almost entirely to addiction, though he's somehow managing to keep his position. And in the present he's being protected by another Hutt's men because he's ready to turn tail and drop a million secrets so long as his addiction is fed. Pathetic as it was, she wasn't surprised. That was how Nar Shaddaa worked.
She gave the bed a quick boot, sending him jolting up. His head jerked lazily around while his eyes tried to grow accustomed to their surroundings again. When they fell on her, he started laughing like a mad man. “It's a...Bit late for this...Isn't it?” he asked, words coming out slow and slurred. He flung his hands up in the air, “You know what? I'm not gonna complain.” He patted the bed, “Come on! Get on my boat...”
Her eyes left him as she slowly stepped forward, picking him up by the shoulders. He simply cheered, “Heeeey! I'm f-flying...Whee...” She tossed him towards the window which cracked with his weight. He never even acknowledged the pain. As she walked closer to him she fired off a few shots on the window. It was made to withstand blaster fire, which one might find odd if they weren't accustomed to the ways of Nar Shaddaa, but in the end it broke. In one quick motion she reached down, grabbing him by the leg and shoulder and tossed him out the window. As he exited the building he was still cheering. There was a crunch as he landed against something metal, likely some car flying by, which was confirmed by the screams of terror that followed.
Serd'aeri'asai gave the room one last look over. The job was done. As soon as the Hutt had managed to hear about it, she'd find more credits in her account than the last one. Serd'aeri'asai, or Daeria as those who would never be able to pronounce her maiden name would call her, walked slowly over to the window. Folding her hands behind her back she allowed herself a nice look over the city. Daeria Malcolm was well aware that somewhere out there was a hunter who was far better than herself, but the thought never bothered her. She was efficient, deadly, precise, and effective.
Without a word, she hadn't spoken all night, she leaned forward, arms spreading wide. She savored the free fall for a few moments before she let her pack kick in, flying silently off into the eternally bright night.