Diadem Square Coronet City, Corellia 43 ABY
Distance - One-hundred-fifty-two yards, elevation - fifty-five feet; shooting angle - forty-eight degrees, temperature - seventy-three degrees Fahrenheit, zero mile-per-hour wind speed.
Myra went down her mental checklist as she waited for her target to exit the building and step out into the open. Bohdan Rovel had been a person of interest to the Brotherhood for some time, mostly due to his work in holonet security. “One of the brighest minds of this generation,” she’d heard people say. Often working with the New Republic to uncover and patch holes in their holonet networks and encrypted channels in the civilian and military sector, Bohdan had captured the attention of the Council, who were always eager to recruit young and bright minds into the Brotherhood’s ranks.
But something had changed. Myra didn’t know the specific details, but she was informed in the mission briefing conducted by her operator that Rovel had a nasty habit of poking his nose where it didn’t belong, and had inadvertently stumbled upon sensitive information that, if it got out, could damage the Brotherhood’s reputation. With the shit show that had already been stirred up recently in Coruscant, the last thing the top brass wanted, she’d been told, was another galactic incident.
So, they’d sent her to silence their problem before whatever he’d found got out. A speech meant to address the public was as good an opportunity as any to do so. By now, a team of Inqee field agents were scrubbing Rovel’s hotel room, looking for any copies of the data he’d stolen. Once she got the all clear, she’d be free to take the shot whenever she saw fit.
From the concealed cover of an office building currently scheduled for emergency maintenance, Myra adjusted the pitch of her shatter rifle’s barrel half an inch upward to account for slug drop off. From this height and this elevation, that was the necessary adjustment to ensure she hit her mark. And hit him she would. All she had to do was wait for the signal.
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“A kriffing bodyguard…” Jasper whined under his breath. They still couldn’t believe that this was the assignment that she thought would suit their skillset. Back when the clan was actually a clan, back before they got stuck, before it was just the three of them. Jasper had been the group’s scout, moving faster and quieter than any other. But now they were relegated to what Aurellia deemed ‘quiet’ and ‘clean’ work. At least they got to keep a majority of their weapons, keeping them hidden under a rather fitted suit.
With the push of a button, large doors swung open to reveal the bright, clear day outside the lab. Jasper ushered the scientist through the opening after taking a glance for any threats.
Inhale … exhale.
Inhale … exhale.
With each rising breath, the crosshairs of Myra’s rifle drifted slightly off course, only to fall back into alignment when the last bit of air left her lungs. She was ready. A short vibration from a nearby datapad signaled that a new message had arrived on the encrypted datapad used by Inquisitorius agents to relay information to one another. It read:
“`>>> Package is secure. <<<
Proceed as previously discussed. <<<”`
“Right on time,” she thought, dipping her head back down and shutting one eye to peer through the shatter rifle’s electroscope. Rovel was standing at the lectern, now, no doubt weaving his words into a gilded net to ensnare the minds and hearts of everyone gathered there in Diadem Square. Although he wasn’t a politician per se, Bohdan Rovel could spin words with the best of them. Myra hated slick talkers. A Jedi came to visit their coven on Jekara, once, trying to convince her mother and the other elders that the children would be better served joining the order. None saw through his facade as quickly as she had – arrogance disguised as compassion. He was just another kind of slick talker … a deceiver.
Shaking her head, Myra curled her index finger around her long gun’s trigger, and took a final breath. Once the crosshairs aligned with her target’s center of mass again, and she reached the end of a slow exhale, she squeezed the trigger not once, but twice. Ka-choom. Ka-choom. Its suppressor kept it from making the thundering crackle it typically did when the slugs broke the sound barrier, but she still felt the weapon’s power as it kicked backward, making the floor, walls, and her own body jostle with each shot.
Only when two spots of red exploded on Rovel’s chest did Myra take another breath. Good karking riddance. She wouldn’t stay to admire her work, though; it was time to move. The sephi-sakiyan hybrid began to quickly, yet carefully disassemble her rifle, placing each of the pieces into a nearby case before making her exit. All she had to do was make it three blocks to where her ship was hidden, and she’d be in the clear.