Prologue
Mos Eilos Cantina.
It was a place many avoided... and not just because of the shitty drinks and choice of music. Sure, the inhabitants were of the shifty sort; one wrong look was enough to get you killed. Or worse. Nobody here was really known for being the friendly type, and it showed immensely with how many fights broke out in a night. But that wasn’t the main reason why people avoided the cantina. Above all else, the infamy surrounding the place was far more frightening.
It was home to one of the deadliest bounty hunter groups: The Crimson Harpies.
The reputation they garnered wasn’t from the insignificant little hits they completed throughout the years, either. The Crimson Harpies gained all the attention from taking down huge targets: politicians, merchants, other bounty hunting groups... Nobody was safe from their looming shadow. They seemed to hold no regard for life other than the number of credits that were offered to end it. Clients would come in and out of Mos Eilos with attempts to barter for another’s life and, for the most part, left satisfied. Of course, nobody would even think of coming with the intention of haggling. The last person who tried ended up leaving with no hands. It was filled with the scummiest hunters. The rust at the bottom of the pot.
That’s exactly the scum Vilius was.
He found himself absent-mindedly stirring the Jawa juice placed in front of him by the bartender a few moments prior. She had sent a knowing glance towards him and his counterpart, a man known only as Maro, who was seated with his forearms resting against the bar table. He was the closest thing to a “leader” the Crimson Harpies had, and it showed in the way he would walk with confidence and talk as if he owned the galaxy... In some ways, maybe he did. Vilius could only wonder if that would one day be his downfall, but kept these thoughts to himself. After a few more stirs, Vilius glanced towards the clean-shaven man next to him with slight distaste edging at his tone.
“They were meant to arrive an hour ago.”
“Patience, Vilius,” Maro raised his hand calmly, a certain coolness lacing his syllables that only served to upset Vilius further. His lips pursed both in anger, and to prevent him from saying something stupid. However, it didn’t seem to do much good since he soon piqued the rhetorical question that had been resting on the tip of his tongue.
“Whatever happened to not serving late clients?”
Maro sent the man a daggered look, as if daring him to continue. Vilius didn’t dare, and instead focused back on the Jawa juice in front of him. The stirring became slightly more aggressive, but it was mostly to keep himself quiet. Maro wasn’t known for his tolerance, even to other fellow bounty hunters. The last person who tried to swindle him ended up with more than a few broken bones. It took Vilius weeks to get the blood off of his boots.
He ran a hand through his long brown hair that pooled around his pale face. He really needed a haircut... How long had it been since he had gotten one? He used to rock a clean-shaven, buzz-cut look, but soon let his contracts get the better of his time management. And it showed. Immensely.
“Ah, welcome! Please, have a seat.”
Vilius’ thoughts were interrupted when a strange robed man seated himself aside Maro. The sight of him filled Vilius with sudden discomfort that he attempted to play off by loosening the collar of his leather bomber jacket. The strange man seemed to take note of this by the way he turned his head towards Vilius, but soon returned his attention back to Maro.
“This is him?”
The displeasure in his tone rubbed Vilius the wrong way. “Hey, if you don’t want the job done feel free to walk out right now,” he scoffed and gestured towards the door he had just entered from. The man’s face was shadowed by his hood, though Vilius could swear he saw his lips twitch ever so slightly.
“I want the job done by someone competent enough to finish it.” He replied.
If it weren’t for the hand Maro placed to steady Vilius’ approach, he would’ve had no problem jumping the man right then and there. However, Maro’s warning look was enough to get him to sit back down and sip at his Jawa juice in defeat.
“I assure you, Vilius is one of the most esteemed hunters among Crimson Harpies. If anybody is to pull this off without a hitch, it’s him. Now tell me...” He leaned in, his voice becoming an octave lower. “What is it we can do for you?”
A babe.
He was to slaughter a mere babe.
There was a rare heaviness in Vilius’ heart as he began his journey to fulfill his next bounty. The assignment was unusual, even for the Crimson Harpies. Nobody dared to put a bounty on a child, let alone an infant. Even more unusual was the man who had requested the hit... A stranger with nothing but a mystery to his appearance and refused to even give his name. Despite all reasoning the situation gave to not accept the hit, the credits were too drool-worthy for Maro to refuse.
Whoever this man was, he wanted that baby dead.
The plan was simple: go to Naboo, kill the kid, receive his pay. It wasn’t like the thing could put up much of a fight anyway, and the robed man certainly gave no indication of it being some prince, princess, or an otherwise well-protected child. That only made him even more curious, but the man was insistent on keeping things hidden unless they related directly to the bounty. Apparently, the child’s background and affiliations weren’t on that list.
Vilius landed his ship on a large clearing inside the forest, hidden among the thick trees and foliage. He had almost forgotten how beautiful the planet really was, its natural landscape gleaming with a certain charm that he couldn’t resist staring at as he landed among the trees. There was a waterfall nearby, but he knew that there was no time to waste gawking (as much as he wished he could). He had replaced his casual attire with leather armor and galac-tac armor that he had grown so used to using. His methods of hunting weren’t necessarily up close and personal, meaning his armor wasn’t as heavy as other bounty hunters were used to. Maro swore that he needed a serious update to his wardrobe, but Vilius could care less. A kill was a kill. This wasn’t a fashion show.
With gear strapped to his tactical belt and legs, along with a dark robe to seal it all together, Vilius finally felt ready to hunt. Something about this entire set-up seemed fishy to him, and he wanted to be prepared for any issues that could arise. The idea of the client setting up some sort of ambush was something he didn’t doubt for a second, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with his tail between his legs. The loud hissing sound of his exit ramp descending echoed through the forest that seemed quieter than usual. Granted, the sun was beginning to set but even then, it was eerie. Vilius attempted to clear his mind of any peril as he traveled under the purple and orange skies.
The walk was short. Parrlay was relatively close to the outskirts of the forest, allowing him a decent getaway if shit went sour. The coordinates the man gave seemed to be legit, as it led Villus straight to a simple house towards the middle of the city. A tooka was perched on the arched clay rooftop, likely asleep. Other than that, nothing was around to see his entry. So, he entered.
The door was surprisingly unlocked, with no security mechanisms in place to notify the owners of his presence. As soon as he entered the home, he could feel his heart wrench at the blood he was about to shed. The sight of the children’s toys that littered the ground was enough to leave a gaping hole in the pit of his stomach. He stepped around them with ease, but each and every one of those steps grew harder for him to take. Maro’s words echoed in his mind like a broken record, forever reminding him of the job he needed to complete. He was a hunter. A Harpy. Nothing left out of place. No evidence to be collected. He would kill the babe and be done with it.
He continued down the hallway, passing a small kitchen and bathroom on his way before his feet halted at the final door at the end of the hall. A little drawing was left on the wall next to the doorway, something rarely seen ever since the invention of holopads and the many uses for entertaining children. Whoever these people were, they were anything but wealthy... It raised even more suspicion. This family wasn’t rich, or special... They were utterly average. Shaking these thoughts away, Villus’ hands pressed down on the button outside that allowed the door to open with a small hiss. A little cradle sat in the center of the room, surrounded by a bunch of scattered toys.
The feeling of unease burnt a never-ending fire inside of his chest.
As if stepping on daggers, Vilius approached the small cradle with caution. He could feel his guard begin to let down at the sight of the tiny bundle of blankets and the little fluff of black hair. Her eyes were closed, unaware of his presence and the death that would soon befall her. Villus began removing his blade from its sheath, only to be startled by the gleam of his own reflection in the steel. It made him sick to his stomach.
When had he become vile enough to slaughter a child?
He bit his bottom lip so hard he could taste the familiar tang of copper on his tongue. No matter how long he held the knife up, he couldn’t bring himself to strike her. She laid so peacefully in the crib, blissfully unaware of all the chaos around her. She was pure. The truest form of innocence lay in the heart of a child... She was untouched by the filth that corrupted the galaxy, leading Villius to betray the one thing he had sworn to do.
When he sent the box filled with blankets soaked in tooka blood back to Maro, he had no idea of the danger that followed his decision. He never would’ve guessed the very importance of the child he was meant to slaughter. When he brought the baby to Coruscant and left her on the steps of the Jedi Temple in hopes they would be kind enough to let her stay there, if only for basic care, he never knew of the dice he had just rolled.
Vilius watched from afar as an older man walked down the steps, likely having heard the loud crying. He picked her up into his arms and stared down at her with curiousness, but he did not leave her. If he was burdened by the sudden presence, he did not show it. His hands reached into the little bundle and took out a small necklace that was wrapped around the infant’s neck. He seemed to stop for a moment to read it, before the old man carried her up to the temple and through those giant doors decorated with lavish statues.
That was the last Vilius would see the babe again.
