Orange, white, blue and purple: the neon lights of Coruscant blurred into a mirage as Barristan masterfully navigated their cramped speeder through the undulating traffic that filled this god forsaken planet. Daenerys found herself wishing she was in uniform like the rest of them: even though she normally hated her helmet, maybe it would've helped her lungs deal with all the smoke that she was taking in with each breath. Across from her, Daario coughed, his rebreather distorting the noise.

"Fuck this place stinks," she could hear the disdain in his voice: Daario was always the one to complain about their assignments first, but on this occasion she actually found herself nodding in agreement.

"Quiet Down," Jorah said, his voice filling the cabin. "We're almost at the drop zone so lets go over this again." He played a holographic projector on the small circular table that listed slightly in the center of the room. A 3D rendering of a handsome young man appeared, its blue edges flickering slightly as the speeder continued to weave in and out of traffic.

"Just because Senator Snow is a diplomat doesn't mean we should take this lightly. He could have weapons in his home and needs to be eliminated with the utmost caution. I will not lose anyone on this assignment." Next to her, Grey Worm stiffened: Missandei of the Naboo, their tactician, had been killed in a firefight with another group of bounty hunters who had also obtained the puck for their target: Greyworm had slaughtered them all. The two of them had been saving their bounties to purchase the Freedom of Greyworm's family from their owners on Tatooine; now, Greyworm seemed to have slightly lost his way. Dany placed a hand on her stoic compatriots knee, and she felt him slightly untense at her touch. "He should be arriving home from a high council meeting around 15:00. You know his routine: he meets his friend Tormund at that slag pit, the Watch, and then retires for the evening. Daenerys will be planted at the bar," he turned to look at her, his cold grey eyes boring into hers, "do what you do best, and once you arrive at his place you finish the job. Daario will be cloaked in the adjacent alleyway, should you need backup." Daario tapped his collapsible shock staff at his hip, and she could tell he was grinning at her from under his helmet. "Greyworm will be on the ledge across the channel ready to pick him off if need be. Barristan and I will monitor your progress from the speeder and collect you individually when we have a confirmed kill. I expect you to have the body ready for transport by the time we touch down." He picked up the projector and stached it in his tool belt, sweeping his eyes across the collected bounty hunters. "Any questions?" He was answered only by the sounds of the Coruscant traffic around them and he nodded tersely, placing his rusted helmet over his bearded face.

"We'll be at the Dropzone in 30 seconds," Barristan's voice came from the front, his calming voice soothing her otherwise jangled nerves. No matter how many years she did this, she always felt as though her stomach were going to empty its contents before every job. Daario placed his hand over hers, squeezing her fingers. She raised her eyes, trying to pick out his face through his T shaped visor to no avail.

"I'll take you out after this is over," he said, a hint of a smile creeping in at the edge of his voice, "I know a couple of good spots from my time stationed here. I could show you a good time."

She knew what he had in mind. "I might let you take me up on that," she smirked back at him, enjoying the way he sat up straighter in his seat at her even entertaining the prospect of having a night out with him again. Daario was the newest member of her team, and though he was a handsome and capable lover, she hadn't felt the want to spend another night in his bed. In truth, she doubted she would ever feel the need to do it again. But let him wonder, she thought slightly as Barristan informed her that they had docked, the speeder coming to a complete stop. She stood, smoothing her jacket over the tight fitting outfit that complimented her bountiful curves as she turned to disembark. Jorah stopped her with a hand on her shoulder as she tried to pass.

"Daenerys," he said, his voice even deeper now through his helmet. He paused, seeming as though he wanted to say more, but seemed to decide against it, "Be careful". She snorted but laid a featherlight hand on his dinged pauldron. "This is the way," she said, and the rest of the crew echoed her statement, a reminder of the mandalorian code.

Senator Snow was late. Senator Snow was never late. They had studied his patterns and habits from the data gathered by their reconnaissance droid after being tipped off that he could potentially have a high profile bounty placed on his pretty, curly haired head, because that's what made them the best. The Khalasaar was made up of the most skilled and deadly bounty hunters in the Parsec, and the only one that was Mandalorian. Daenerys often thought that she knew her targets better than they knew themselves, though Jon Snow had been particularly difficult to gather information on outside of what he did with his time these days. Before her death, Missandei hadn't been able to find anything about who he had been before his election: he had no previous occupations on any record, public or private, and no listed place of birth. It was because of this that everyone belonging to the Khalasaar was more on edge than any of them probably wanted to admit: this target was irregular.

She scanned the bar again, the strobing neon lights and loud music assaulting her every sense. Nothing. But she was Mandalor, and the Mandalore are nothing if not resilient. The stool next to her swiveled, and he slid into the seat. "One Dagobah Dirt bomb for Tormund please," he said with a laugh, "and I'll just take whatever's on tap for tonight." The Twilek waitress smiled seductively at him and busied herself with fulfilling his order as he turned to talk to his Red Headed friend. Daenerys couldn't help but stare: how had he snuck past her? She was sure that she would have seen him: he hadn't even bothered to change out of his Senators garb. However on edge Dany had been before Jon Snow's sudden appearance, she was doubly now. Then, he turned and smiled at her. Daenerys thought it might have been the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

"What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, sipping at the drink that had just been placed in front of him. She smiled back at him through hazy eyes, letting his rough accent shake her from her stupor. "Waiting for someone," she replied, swirling the straw in her half drunk cup, "You wouldn't happen to know if I could find one Senator Jon Snow around here would you?" His grin faltered and he leaned slightly back in his chair, reaching again for his drink.

"Ah," he said, "are you going to try to convince me to change my mind about my policy regarding act B-18? Because I really don't think we should be allowing the empire to breach our privacy to search for what they are calling the 'next wave of jedi,'" he took a sip from his drink and she saw his friend watching them intently.

"I was actually going to commend you for your stance," she said, leaning in and making sure he got a perfect view down her shirt. Even in this lighting, his face reddened, and she smirked victoriously. "The wave of Jedi paranoia that has been sweeping the whole galaxy is totally overblown. Those traitors are all dead." She sipped her drink as he slowly nodded, ignoring Tormund's scoff.

"Did I say something amusing?" she inquired, directly her gaze to the man sitting to her targets right. Tormund met her stare, his pale blue eyes unwavering. "The jedi weren't traitors," he answered back, shifting in his seat to face her. Interesting.

"According to imperial decree, the Jedi would have brought about the end of the universe," she said, glancing at Jon, sure that she was garnering favor with her approach. She had watched multiple tapes of him addressing the senate: he was strictly anti-jedi, with his main focuses often concerning the privacy and safety of the people of Coruscant and the larger Galactic Empire. So when she saw a hint of reproach on his otherwise blank visage, she faltered, her confident demeanor slipping for a millisecond. Senator Snow smiled tightly at her, and he nodded at his friend before finishing his drink and rising from his seat.

"Regardless of your stance or opinions, this is hardly the place to be having this conversation," he placed a generous stack of credits on the bar, the Twilek whisking them away almost the instant they left his fingers. "Have a good evening, my lady." He turned away, Tormund following closely at his heels. It wasn't until the door had closed behind them that Daenerys allowed herself to breathe.

"Fuck."

Under instruction from Jorah, she had tailed them back to his place. It hadn't been easy; Jon Snow seemed to be just as on edge for some reason after their meeting as she was. She constantly had to duck into alleys or shops to avoid being seen as he frequently stopped to look around, Jorah calling out to her the best places to hide as he and Barristan circled their quarry from a distance like a moon, caught in his gravitational pull. She watched as he bade Tormund goodbye at his doorstep, the two of them engaged in an animated conversation that ended with Tormund hurrying off down the channel, the twisting lights casting a dancing pattern across his lumbering figure as he eventually melded with the mass of bodies that filled every Coruscant footpath. She made herself count to thirty before she moved, dancing between oncomers until she reached his door. Pausing a moment to take in her appearance in the window of the shop to her right, the pushed her cleavage out a little more and adjusted her hair. She knew that she appeared desirable, and Jon Snow was just another man. She knocked three times, and leaned against the doorframe in a way that she hoped would appear casual. The door slid open with a hiss, Jon Snow filling the portal. He had taken off his formal outerwear, his muscular built all too apparent through his thin white undershirt.

"Should I be worried that you followed me home?," he said, his eyes flickering down to her chest before meeting hers. Heat pooled in her lower stomach as she boldly leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. In a city so dirty, it shouldn't have been possible for him to smell and taste so clean. He was the first to pull away, a small smile forming on his face. "Why don't you come in," he said, stepping aside for her. She gave him her most sultry smile, swaying her hips as the door closed behind her.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to a set of chairs placed on either side of a small rectangular table. "You want a drink?" he inquired, moving to get a glass from his modest kitchen. "Yes please," she answered him, taking the opportunity to cast her eyes around the room. Out the window across the traffic, she knew Grey was waiting, his rifle trained on Jon's every movement. The passing ships cast their lights through the slatted blinds, the pattern banding across the walls. Jon returned, two glasses in hand, and set one in front of her as he settled himself in the chair opposite her. He sat there for an instant, regarding her with that same smile, the edges of his lips barely curling upwards. She waited for him to make the next move: he didn't. He sipped his drink as she swirled the contents of her glass, until he finally spoke, setting his down in front of him. "Turn off your comms."

The blood in Daenerys's veins turned to ice. She stared at him, unsure of what to say next. His smile was gone now and he leaned forward, his voice carrying the whisper of a threat when he spoke again, "turn off your comms." She smiled at him, unable to escape the garbled chuckle that escaped from her throat. They sat there for another moment, the tension between them so palpable that you could cut it with a knife.

She moved first, drawing the tiny blaster stowed away within one of the inner pockets of her coat. Daenerys had always prided herself on being quick; she was the fastest member of the Khalasaar on the draw. So she hadn't been expecting it when Jons hand shot up faster than she could comprehend, his palm open towards her as she flew backwards into his wall, her head slamming into the metal with a sickening thud. The door burst open and Daario barreled through, his staff at its full reach, the ends crackling with electricity. She fought to make out what was happening, though she was sure her mind was playing tricks on her. The Senator moved with the speed and grace of a seasoned warrior, dodging and ducking to avoid her compatriots assault without offering an offense of his own. Her fogged mind realized what Daario was doing, a second before it happened: he was backing Jon up to the window, his exposed back in perfect view for Grey. The bolt shattered the glass of his apartment, though she realized with a shock that he had dodged it.

Daario let out a yell of frustration, undoubtedly irritated that his target had been able to avoid his blows so successfully for so long. He brought up his staff to deliver a powerful overhead blow, the end whistling through the air as it descended towards their foe. Maybe it was her mind reeling from the impact, but everything seemed to suddenly be moving in slow motion for Daenerys. The lightsaber flew into Jons hand from down the dark hallway where she assumed his bedroom must be, its blue blade igniting and cleaving Daario's staff in two as he sidestepped the blow with inhuman speed. The Mandalorian staggered forward, the force of his own attack sending him off balance. The lightsaber flashed again, and his helmeted head slid from his shoulders, his lifeless body crashing to the floor. Another blaster bolt rang through the room, Jon narrowly ducking out of its trajectory as he disappeared through the door. Faintly, she could hear Jorah's voice over her earpiece, though she could not make out what he was saying. Her whole body felt numb, and the last thing she heard as she slipped into unconsciousness was the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber cracking over the comms.