Chapter Text
Sheev Palpatine
Darth Sidious paced back and forth in front of the windows that made up the back wall of his office as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, glaring down at the speeders flying by in what passed for ‘night’ on a planet so eternally awake as Coruscant. The light of so many happy force signatures--all those sentients flying by--was sickening to the Sith Lord. They would all one day cower before the might of his eternal empire.
A day that was continuously being delayed by that damn Kenobi!
Sidious had assumed the man would be of little consequence when they first met. A mere lawyer untested in the real court of galactic politics, and unknown to anyone truly important. At the time a child barely out of his teenage years seemed inconsequential to the vast machinations that he and his Master had so artfully spun across the decades and centuries they had been plotting. After all, the boy had no power, and Sidious was already succeeding in his plan to become Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Had succeeded, as was evident by his current location.
But then Sidious had watched as the boy brought the Trade Federation to its knees with a couple of words. Watched as he shook the status quo of the galaxy to its core in mere moments. And Sidious seethed at the audacity of that measly boy as he had continued to shake the galaxy with his disgusting temerity. As that child continued to do his level best to ruin every plan Sidious and his Master had painstakingly crafted and slotted into place.
Every. Single. One.
Sidious had hoped, damn well prayed to the darkness--and any other planetary deities that might listen--to stop Kenobi after Naboo. But no, he had persisted. He had gone on a proverbial legal rampage through the galaxy leaving slavers and illicit corporations eviscerated and torn asunder in his wake. Torn down systems of oppression and liberated planets from tyrannical rulers -- beat back the beautiful darkness swallowing, devouring the galaxy with his disgusting light of justice and equality. Such childish notions. Such poisonous drivel.
And Kenobi had done it all with his words.
Without truly lifting a finger this insolent little lifeform had been systematically tearing down all that brought darkness to the galaxy. And the child with his folly didn't even stop at the Core, or at the Mid Rim. No, he with his astounding hubris decided to wage war--a disgustingly peaceful one with no death and no destruction, how sickeningly quaint--on the treachery, the hives of scum and villainy of the Outer Rim.
Now, Sidious hadn't gotten to where he was--achieved as much as he had in servitude to the darkness--without patience. He was careful, and he knew how to wait; how to tweak and pull on the threads of the galaxy's overarching tapestry, how to manipulate its beautiful madness to ensure that eventually what he wanted would fall into his lap. So, when Kenobi had started his naïve tirade across the galaxy Sidious had been willing to wait it out. To have patience. To wait for the nuisance to die as all things did. For his legacy to be forgotten and the galaxy to once again fall into exquisite, ravishing darkness.
But the child couldn't leave well enough alone. No, he had come after the Chancellor. This child--barely worth the oxygen he breathed in Sidious's opinion--had decided that the policies and laws pushed recently by Sidious and his loyalists in the Senate were 'unethical' and 'went against the constitution of the Republic' as well as a long list of obscure laws the boy seemed to revel in quoting. This idealistic, naive child was rallying to see him impeached.
Sidious was done waiting.
Ben Kenobi had to go.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Yan Dooku
Count Yan Dooku of Serreno was a man of influence with much political reach across the galaxy and, unknown to most who knew him, substantial reach in the dark underbelly of the galaxy. So when his Master, Lord Sidious, had commed him demanding the death of that lawyer Kenobi--curse him and his effectiveness, many of Dooku's... “business ventures” had been ruined by that insufferable man--Dooku had been ready with just the bounty hunter for the job.
"Fett. How wonderful to see you are still alive," he greeted as the comm call connected. A secure one of course. The Force knew what meddling his former Master--curse Yoda and everything he stands for--would do should he find out his precious former Padawan was dealing with bounty hunters.
"Count, this better be good. I seem to remember informing you I wouldn't be taking any jobs for the foreseeable future," the Mandalorian practically growled his reply, clearly unhappy. Not that Dooku could tell all that well with the man's helmet securely obscuring his face. He hated negotiating with Mandalorians.
"I assure you, it is. An...associate of mine is willing to pay quite handsomely for the death of a certain lawyer that had been causing him many problems as of late," Dooku peered at the flickering blue of the holo-call. Fett must have been far from civilization for such a weak signal.. How interesting.
Fett tilted his head to the side in interest and grunted. "How much we talking? I’ll remind you," Fett growled, "that I was very insistent that I not be bothered. So we better be talking a hefty bounty."
Dooku fought to hide his smirk. Excellent. Nodding, he replied. "I assure you, Ser Fett, it will be well worth it. My associate is willing to pay you ten million physical credits for a job well done, fifteen million if you make it look like an accident," Dooku didn't fight the smirk this time. For all he couldn't read Fett's facial expression, it was obvious that he had captured the man's attention. Fett shifted where he stood looking at something out of view before looking back at Dooku and nodding.
"Alright Count, send me the details. Who has the credits currently?"
Dooku raised an eyebrow at the question. "Why do you ask, Ser Fett?" The Mandalorian shrugged.
"Call it a professional inquiry for the sake of job security." Dooku sighed quietly. Mandos and their--not undeserved, mind you--caution.
"If you must know, it is currently in my possession."
"Alright," Fett replied, nodding, "It will be done. Fett out." And with that the hologram of Fett flickered out of existence and Dooku smiled in satisfaction. Everything was going to plan. Soon, Ben Kenobi would be dead and Dooku would be rewarded by his Master for his loyalty.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Jango Fett
He would never admit it, but Jango didn't hate Coruscant. Not completely, at least. Don't get him wrong, it was definitely a terrible planet. No plants, no true life anywhere to be found and the corruption this Manda forsaken hellhole was steeped would put even the worst of the Outer Rim planets to shame. But, with all that said, he still always marveled at the diversity of the place, at the sheer number of species and cultures surviving together in harmony. It soothed something broken and twisted deep inside him that always ached when he thought of what Mandalore had once been, and what a soulless place it had become under the Pretender.
So, while the planet was horrible, he didn't completely mind it. At the very least, the chaos of the place made completing bounties just that much easier when the target was a resident of the Republic's center. Like his current bounty.
Finding Kenobi hadn't been nearly as difficult as many of his other jobs. The man was a well known figure in the Republic and outside of it; whenever he was on Coruscant--especially for a case--it seemed like the entire galaxy would know within the tenday. So, Kenobi had been easy to find; but that wasn't the only anomaly with this hunt compared to his others. Kenobi was easy to find when he was on Coruscant. Jango had asked around and seemingly no one in the entirety of the galaxy's criminal underground knew where Kenobi lived--or if they did, no one who was willing to tell.
Luckily for him though, Kenobi was currently the prosecuting attorney on an incredibly high profile case involving the Banking Clan, which had been accused of--among other things--tax fraud and violation of several Republic Occupational Safety and Health Administration (ROSHA) labor regulations regarding their dealings in the Outer Rim.
A case Jango was currently witnessing from the second row of the gallery of one of the most secure courtrooms in the galaxy. And dralyc'kara, the Banking Clan was losing. Hard.
It was almost laughable, really. From the very start of this trial, Kenobi had been destroying every argument made in defense of the Banking Clan, and if Jango was a betting man he would have put money on their Representative--a stout Balosar--bursting into tears before his cross examination was over. It was honestly quite entertaining to slowly watch all hope fade from the being's eyes as the trial progressed. Best entertainment he'd had in years.
Jango pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on Kenobi. His target was an interesting man to look at. Bright ginger hair--an exceedingly rare color in the galaxy--and stunningly bright green-blue eyes hidden behind thin-framed square glasses. He was dressed in a way that wouldn't be unusual among professors at Coruscant's Universities, all soft edges and neutral colors with sweaters and cardigans aplenty. If Jango didn't know any better, he would have described the man as adorable and soft.
Thank the Ka'ra he knew better.
Kenobi may have looked sweet and inexplicably soft, but Jango was sure at this point that the way he dressed was a deliberate ploy by the man to lull his legal opponents into a false sense of security. After all, the second he opened his mouth it was obvious he was out for blood.
"Shall we review the facts of the case as they have thus been revealed for the benefit of the jury, your Honor?" Kenobi asked, addressing not only the defendant and the judge but the courtroom at large. The way the man effortlessly commanded such a degree of control with just a sentence was stunning to witness.
And if Jango were to be honest with himself, kriffing hot as well but it's a good thing he was a master at lying to himself. He definitely did not think Kenobi was a valid argument for the Mandalorian obsession with those skilled in all forms of combat--verbal included.
"Proceed," the Judge--a tall Nautoloan man named Bogg Gahveel--stated, motioning around the court with his gavel, "the floor is yours, Mr. Kenobi."
Kenobi nodded and smiled--who gave him the right to look so lovely when he smiled--while bowing his head slightly. "Thank you, Your Honor," he turned to face the jury, "Gentle-beings of the jury. Today we have confirmed the validity and authenticity of the following facts in this case: the representative of the Intergalactic Banking Clan, Ser Ommit Ividens has admitted under oath that the Banking Clan, though claiming to operate as an independent commerce guild in the Core and Mid and Outer Rims, does in fact have heavy business ties and binding contracts with many groups in the Outer Rim, including the Hutt Cartel and the Black Sun Crime Syndicate," Kenobi turned to face the nervous Balosar and gestured to him. "Do you deny that that is what you said, Ser Ividens?"
"No, I do not deny that that is what I said."
Kenobi gave a small smile. "Thank you, Ser Ividens. Now," he turned back to face the jury, "what has also been revealed to us through evidence gathered by Republic Judicial forces, evidence Ser Ividens has admitted to the authenticity of, is the undeniable fact that despite the reality of their business ties, the Intergalactic Banking Clan has continued to file their taxes as an independent commerce guild, violating Republic Tax Code 42069. This is aside from the illegality of the existence of those ties in the first place," Kenobi paused and looked at Ividens, "luckily for Ser Ividens, the prosecution of that particular charge against the Intergalactic Banking Clan will have to wait for a different trial and therefore should not be used in your consideration of the verdict today. What 'should' be used in your consideration, however," he again turned to face the Jury, "is the fact that, through several testimonies by the prosecution today, the court has verified the fact that through its labor practices, the Banking Clan has violated ROSHA regulations and guidelines 4214, 358, 9, and 79," Kenobi smiled that brilliant smile of his, "I think I've covered everything there," the jury and several beings in the gallery chuckled at that, "so I will leave it there. A good day to you all," and Kenobi sat down among the rest of the prosecution.
The defense, suffice to say, were the picture of despair and Jango was trying his best not to break down laughing at the incredulity of the fact that someone had finally--seemingly--been able to pin the Banking Clan for at least some of their illegal dealings.
He was also trying very hard not to think about how kriffing gorgeous Kenobi looked while verbally destroying his opponents. Trying, and failing miserably. Because dralyc'kara, was he gorgeous.
Something Jango remembered vividly of Mandalore was the sheer number of Mando'ade who would fight each other for the right to say the Riduurok with one of Mandalore's diplomats--the Mando'ade trained to be as lethal with their words as with their blasters. And honestly, when it came to Kenobi, Jango found that he understood those who fought over them completely.
This was going to be an interesting hunt.