Dirk smiled grimly beneath his helm. He knew the celebrations weren't entirely to his or Jocasta's benefit, but it was a pretty loud indication the bastard was here. He set his visor on multi-search, the digital screen relaying back eighteen different appearances of the target's visage, all from signs or paintings made in thanks. He turned his head to the 'north' as the spire saw fit, gazing down the thoroughfare as the crowd began to part, an undulating wave of civilians and hawkers, raising their arms to keep their food or goods from bumping into the chest of other festival goers.    

Dirk saw him before his reticle even honed in and identified the target. 

He was a slight man with sharp features, a small scar on his nose and deep, sunken eyes. Just as the hologram had shown that past week. He seemed nervous, but optimistically happy. Dirk watched his procession grow, as more men and women waved to him or wanted to follow in his wake. Dirk checked his path but could find no reason for his movements. There was no great prize waiting for him down the street or someone important waiting to greet him. 

Dirk lifted his modified DMX blaster and aimed down the sight, placing the butt of the blaster on the small rampart of the office building. As the face enlarged in his vision, he could see every crease on the man's lined face. He saw the light in his eyes and the happiness of the others around him. Dirk knew this man had stolen from the most dangerous criminal in the system, had given his wealth to the poor, and had like as not been encouraged to show himself by popular demand. Dirk was almost certain Voldargu could be described as a good person, or at the least, a bad person trying to do right. Word had it he used to belong to the gangs of the lower levels before he had escaped and joined some spacers in a job, the details of which were not known. All of the info from his dataslate ran through his mind, and had he been a more gullible man, he might have had second thoughts. 

But this was not Dirk's first kill. If Dirk did not kill him, someone else would, and if they did not, Phyraelon Deadstar would invade this hab and kill everyone who had touched his money. There was no winning here. So Dirk did the merciful thing. 

He began recording the view on his visor, readjusted his DMX blaster, and pulled the trigger. 

The high powered bolt made to penetrate laminate merc armor scorched through Vol's neck, cauterizing the wound even as it blew a hole straight through his flesh. He died with an uneasy smile on his lips and a hand shaking his. Dirk rolled away from the edge of the building, putting Jocasta on the comm. 

"Target is down. Make yourself scarce." His voice rang over the comm, and he gave her the coordinates to the body. If they could find the corpse in a relatively unguarded position, they would take the head. If they couldn't, the recording should be sufficient. Dirk vaulted over the building and free fell into the alley, activating his jump back a dozen feet from the ground to cushion his fall.