A heartbeat. That’s all he needed. March had spent years honing his talents with a gun but he had also trained his senses, being a hunter, senses were key. March had learned to read a heartbeat, even identify his prey from the rhythm of the beats. Walking the downtrodden neon streets of lower Coruscant, he could hear everyone. Those that were lost, those that did not want to be found, those preparing to, those that were and those that had committed terrible, unforgiving acts. A former mentor had once said that March’s intuitive understand of locations and people was something to do with something called the living force, March slashed his throat about a month later; ancient religions and magic tricks didn’t appeal to him. Skill. Training. The Thrill. The Moment. Those are what mattered.

Before his next appointment at the Royal Bantha, March had one last bit of business to take care of. The place was all but empty except for one other patron; a Cerean male sitting in the centre of the room. March took a seat opposite him and the two men sat in silence for at least a minute. “Is it done?” The Cerean asked placing something on the table. March’s dark eyes never moved from the Cerean’s face. “I gave you my word did I not?” The hunter of men responded in kind. “I am a man of my word, Larloq. You will not see Katu Wayn again” The Cerean now identified as Larloq broke his stoney faced façade to breathe a great sigh if relief. “And me? You said you would not let me come to harm at his or his thugs hands” March placed his hand on top of Larloq’s and gave him a subtle smile. “Indeed I did” The Cerean removed his hand, allowing the assassin to pick up the credits that had been beneath it. March stood up and placed the credit card in his pocket. “I gave you my word that you would come under no harm by their hand. I said nothing, about harm under my own” Larloq began to feel a burning sensation in his hand, his throat tightening. “I normally don’t particularly care for what my employers do, however you Lord Larloq, spend your days turning young children into slaves. That is one thing, I cannot abide” Every word March spoke was deliberate, calm and with class. “The poison that I just introduced into your system acts fast, so your death will be quick. Your lungs will close, your blood will boil and eventually your brain will shut down. You have maybe a minute, probably less. Your heartbeat betrays you. Dead men tell no lies, my lord”

The Royal Bantha; March had been here several times over the years and the décor never seemed to change. Maybe the Bantha was stuck in the centre of a black hole and thus time ran different. He didn’t know. The faces always changed but the place remained the same. The invitation to this meet up was all very cloak and dagger, March had always prided himself on his skill in secrecy. Decoding the message he received wasn’t too difficult, though the timing could’ve been better. He had quite a few jobs lined up  though this particular one was intriguing. Entering the back room, March took in his surroundings, escape routes, possible hiding places for weapons, this line of work always meant you had to be on your toes. This was an eclectic bunch of ruffians, why on Earth gather such a group? Guess he would find out.

“Hello there”