The bounty hunter had once been known as Jaster Mereel. He had taken
on that name on the planet of Concord Dawn. That was after the death of his
father, but long before he had become a bounty hunter. However, Jaster
Mereel was dead. The body, which Mereel had once inhabited, was still
alive. Nevertheless, that body went by his birth name now.
"Boba Fett?"
The bounty hunter did not bother turning. After all, why waste the effort when the helmet he wore provided him with a 360-degree view on the tac display? Besides, he had learned that, by not seeing to look at them, people were uncomfortable when talking with him. The bounty hunter looked at his tac display, and saw that the speaker was human, and, more importantly, unarmed. Good. That meant this human was not an idiot when it came to dealing with trained killers.
Fett nodded to acknowledge the man. Boba Fett. That was who he was now. The bounty hunter Boba Fett, young, but with a thirst to prove himself that shamed some older bounty hunters with less promising futures.
"I am Boba Fett," Fett replied. He finally turned to the human. "Are you the one who asked for me?"
"Yes. I am-"
"Who you are is of little concern to me," Fett interrupted, his voice, as always, emotionless. "What is the job that you have for me?"
The human was obviously flustered. Fett did not care. Caring was an emotion that a successful bounty hunter needed little of. And Fett was out to be more than merely successful. Fett intended to one day be the best.
When the man had collected himself, he let out a loud sigh, and shook his head slowly. "The ones who suggested you to me said that you were a cold one." If he was trying to get a response from Fett, he failed. The human stared into the dark T-shaped visor, and then looked away. Fett felt a small, rare flare of amusement at the human's discomfort.
"I'm looking for one of my rivals to be removed, ya see?" the client said finally. That is what he was now, in Fett's mind. A client. Fett nodded.
"How much are you willing to pay?" Fett asked his voice as flat and emotionless as before.
"I'm willing to pay five thousand credits for his death," the client replied.
Five thousand. A lot of money for a young bounty hunter. "That appears to be quite a sum for the death of one rival," Fett pointed out. Not that he cared. However, it appeared that there was something more to this than a simple assassination.
"The target has been an annoyance to me for a long time. He has been cutting into my operations for far too long. I want him removed, and soon."
Fett suppressed a shrug. "Fine. Who is the target?"
"An entrepreneur named Geoff Farinha."
"I know of him. Where will I find you after he's killed?" It would be stupid to go to all the trouble of killing the person and not getting paid for it.
"Come back here, to the bar. Ask for Stevic G'ladheon. The bartender will know who I am."
Fett nodded, then stood up, and left. He knew where to find Farinha. This would be an easy Hunt.
"Boba Fett?"
The bounty hunter did not bother turning. After all, why waste the effort when the helmet he wore provided him with a 360-degree view on the tac display? Besides, he had learned that, by not seeing to look at them, people were uncomfortable when talking with him. The bounty hunter looked at his tac display, and saw that the speaker was human, and, more importantly, unarmed. Good. That meant this human was not an idiot when it came to dealing with trained killers.
Fett nodded to acknowledge the man. Boba Fett. That was who he was now. The bounty hunter Boba Fett, young, but with a thirst to prove himself that shamed some older bounty hunters with less promising futures.
"I am Boba Fett," Fett replied. He finally turned to the human. "Are you the one who asked for me?"
"Yes. I am-"
"Who you are is of little concern to me," Fett interrupted, his voice, as always, emotionless. "What is the job that you have for me?"
The human was obviously flustered. Fett did not care. Caring was an emotion that a successful bounty hunter needed little of. And Fett was out to be more than merely successful. Fett intended to one day be the best.
When the man had collected himself, he let out a loud sigh, and shook his head slowly. "The ones who suggested you to me said that you were a cold one." If he was trying to get a response from Fett, he failed. The human stared into the dark T-shaped visor, and then looked away. Fett felt a small, rare flare of amusement at the human's discomfort.
"I'm looking for one of my rivals to be removed, ya see?" the client said finally. That is what he was now, in Fett's mind. A client. Fett nodded.
"How much are you willing to pay?" Fett asked his voice as flat and emotionless as before.
"I'm willing to pay five thousand credits for his death," the client replied.
Five thousand. A lot of money for a young bounty hunter. "That appears to be quite a sum for the death of one rival," Fett pointed out. Not that he cared. However, it appeared that there was something more to this than a simple assassination.
"The target has been an annoyance to me for a long time. He has been cutting into my operations for far too long. I want him removed, and soon."
Fett suppressed a shrug. "Fine. Who is the target?"
"An entrepreneur named Geoff Farinha."
"I know of him. Where will I find you after he's killed?" It would be stupid to go to all the trouble of killing the person and not getting paid for it.
"Come back here, to the bar. Ask for Stevic G'ladheon. The bartender will know who I am."
Fett nodded, then stood up, and left. He knew where to find Farinha. This would be an easy Hunt.