Location: Somewhere in the Outer Rim
Agent: Unknown
Objective: Liquidate
The agent took a breath, the air thick with pollution from the countless mining operations in the area. In the agent's hands was a blaster rifle with countless attachments to allow long-distance blasts. His presence was unknown by everyone on and off planet. Even the elite Stormtrooper corps didn't know who he was, where he was, or even that he existed. King Valhoun of The Elysium Empire had sent the Agent here to eliminate a target. The Agent didn't ask why. That wasn't his job. It was most likely to disrupt the supply of one of many enemies of The Empire. Perhaps it was to free the indentured servants that worked restlessly. It didn't matter to the Agent who had spent his life doing jobs without questions. First it was for a gang, then for the Hutts, now it was for The Elysium Empire. Only the name changed.
The Agent had landed as one of many indentured servants, his rifle dismantled and tossed in with the various mine tools. He had walked to the mines, eliminated the single guard, configured his rifle and moved to a ridge unseen. At the ridge he waited until this moment. Hours had been spent on the ridge memorizing where the guards were, where they would be, and what his target looked like. So far there had been no sign of the target. That was soon to change.
Once he eliminated the target he would retreat through the rocky terrain, blending in with his dull clothes. Once he had escaped from enemy sight he would circle back and steal a ship. From there he had no plan. Planning is essential but plans are useless. This was a creed the Agent knew well. Have a goal, but don't expect things to go the way you think.
The main challenge would be avoiding a fight after the target was eliminated. If he had to fight, he only had one cartridge worth 10 shots. There were at least 30 guards across the 900 yard long, 600 yard wide complex. He would have to take out the closest targets and make a run for it. He was fast but it'd require some luck...the guards would have to be slow to react. His other option was to get up close and personal. Disarm a guard, take on the rest. The issue there is the odds. The Agent would be outnumbered, he couldn't take on 30 guards, no matter how skilled he is. It would need to be the first option. Mentally, there can be no second option for the Agent.
The environment of this place was distracting. Heat busted through the thick clouds forcing sweat to dribble down the Agent's face. Humidity made the effects more intense and breathing felt like a chore. The air was surely toxic in this area due to the constant mining causing dust and metal particles to blanket the atmosphere. It was just thin enough to make out the faces of those below.
The Agent wasn't one to complain. He had seen worse. Much worse.
