Star Wars: The Hidden Shadow

Prelude - Contracts

Above the turbolift's threshold the electronic floor indicator counted up, and he counted with it.

165, 166, 167...

He fidgeted in his drab civilian clothes. This is the most uncomfortable shit ever, he thought anxiously, I pity the fucks who wear this. Regardless of his thoughts, he knew they were necessary. Disguised as a homeless man, he easily slipped into the Senate building undetected, and fooling the guards with the sickening odors that clung to his clothes.

Deception is what he did best. Deception is what gets a job done.

Subtract all the rags, scrub him up a bit, and he'd have the ladies eating out of his hand. His chiseled features – with those steely eyes and the attractively tousled dirty blonde mop on his head – seemed better than his ill-mannered nature. Put a smile on those thin lips of his, and he'd obtain all the attention in the room; something, where he came from, that was frowned upon; he needed to stay hidden.

201, 202, 203...

Almost there.

Dangling beside him was his weapon's narrow hilt, asleep just waiting to wake and do his bidding. His knowledge in the Force helped him conceal it upon entry. This went with him wherever he went, and right now he took it as a precaution. His target didn't need a laser sword to end his life. The job was simple: he'd walk into the office as the distraction, and his friend would make their appearance and they'd do the kill together. Afterwards, it'd be splitting the bounty and walking away.

Certainly, it was a more reliable income source than training three useless apprentices to push forward the rebirth of the Sith Empire. There were at least four – counting himself – Sith followers that remained hidden from the Jedi and the Republic. They planned to stay away from the Republic and its war against the Confederacy. They planned to stay away; he didn't.

The lift dinged on his desired floor, and the massive doors slid open. He stepped out into the dark hallway, noting how late in the evening it'd become since he arrived. A massive window pane stretched in front of him, circling around the floor with the picturesque look of Coruscant's cityscape at sundown.

But he didn't come here to admire the view. Grimly, he headed to the right, passing a several closed doors, and arrived at the one with a gilded plaque had, "SENATOR KARAKA LANRAX," posted on the door.

His fingers furled into his palm.

Knock-knock!

"Come in!" a booming voice instantly replied.

He opened the door and stepped inside. On entry, he surveyed the area – a small rectangular space only furnished with a desk and two armchairs suitable for quests – and spotted Lanrax at his desk hunched over a datapad in his hands. The senator wasn't too old, nor was he young. Being middle-aged, he had racked up much respect from his fellow peers but had so much to learn.

The latch clicked when the door shut behind him, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room. Until the senator started screaming for the guards, their one-on-one quality time was on a clock. Time to make the most of it, he thought gleefully, just a short time together: the predator and its prey.

"Can I help you?" Lanrax now had his full attention on the stranger. Those oblivious blue eyes, that soft, friendly smile, made the man's heart sing with sadistic excitement.

"Yes. Perhaps you can," he said. He walked over to the senator's desk, not bothering to sit down. He folded his hands behind his back, showing an intriguing grin to match the senator's smile.