A/N
Welcome to the first part of this new story I'm planning. The next few parts make take a while before i bring them out due to time issues but leave a review to let me know how you feel about this first part.
Prologue
The first step.
Everyone would like to think of it as symbolic or special in some way.
To some, it can be the beginning of a new tale or the end of an old one. Condemning them either to a lifetime of misery and hard labour or a short life of adventure and excitement, the first step is a monumental mark in the journal of life. When age and old bones have taken hold and memory loses its sharpness, the touch of the ground beneath the heavy feet of the weary and the fresh can spark a long-lost memory.
For those more travelled, the first step is nothing more than reassurance. Reassurance they are heading in some direction, be it towards home or far from it.
The second step is the one they should really be paying the most attention to. Taking a confident second step speaks more about the character of a person than mere words could ever describe. It can say whether they have the courage to follow through or not, regardless of the new environment they find themselves in.
Staring down at his now muddy and leaf strewn boots, he wonders what kind of second step he had taken and whether someone now watches him in admiration or a quiet disdain.
Every step must be moving forwards. This is the way he was taught in his youth by his father and those admirable warriors around him, and yet he now finds himself pondering whether every step he has taken since then has been backwards.
Despite how many times he answers his own questions, the doubt always creeps up into the darker corners of his joints and spine. The way is lost to him, and has been for quite some time now.
Years, if he hazarded a guess.
Deciding more years would pass if he simply stood outside the small landing zone with his eyes glued to the floor, he ensures his helmet is correctly acclimatized to his surroundings before taking a deep breath to confirm he has done so correctly.
Musty and wet.
Despite all the advanced filters within the equipment, somehow the stench still sneaks into his nostrils, remaining there as though goading him into giving everything up and leaving.
Better than the gritty humidity of Tatooine, the planet's breath still ranks as one of the best he has been to whilst pursuing bounties. He would sigh at the memory of the last planet he visited but then he would be wasting energy he sorely needs to deal with his last bounty for a while.
And only a sorry warrior wastes what is so precious to them.
"I'd check in with the spaceport first," the pilot of the craft beckons for the gathered crowd to heed his advice. "Imperial Law is Imperial Law."
Spaceport. On some planets, this might mean a massive multi-story complex complete with automated turrets, heavily guarded checkpoints and even multi commercial complexes. However, this planet seems to have somehow condensed the word down to a small, square warehouse-like building with only a few small signs out front.
Better not annoy the Imperials within the first hour of his arrival, but that doesn't mean he has to line up with the other new arrivals like cattle. He'll come back later when the line is smaller and his patience is refilled.
Deciding to not waste precious minutes standing around, he presses onwards towards the local cantina, making sure to keep his timing correct. If all goes to plan, he should meet the contact at precisely the right moment before heading to the spaceport.
Dank and sweaty looking, the cantina's doors are guarded by two star ship sized Weequays, their arrogant gaze making sure to meet everyone's eyes they can in a mild show of intimidation. Whoever owns the establishment wants to make sure no funny business occurs on site and it appears the bouncers have their orders to sort the right patrons from the wrong.
They don't dare to accost the bounty hunter as he strides past them and into the small cantina, it's hideous exterior slipping away to reveal a minimalistic and uniform interior. A small band makes their trade at the far corner, quietly adding an extra layer to the shabby establishment.
Assuming this particular place has no clear competitor on this backwater planet, he shoots straight for a corner unit close to the door. He doesn't bend his knees far enough to sit down before a droid whizzes over to the table with creaking difficulty.
"Drink"
"No."
"Food?"
"No."
With the brief exchange over, the droid zooms away with disappointed beeps, the creaking quickly becoming louder than the band, who has begun to play a low and drawn out melody.
Being the only patron in the bar and the only one who would ever enter such a shoddy place, he decides it's safe enough to meet his contact.
Pulling out a holo transmitter, he opens up the securest line he can to the contact, double checking no-one is eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Right on time, ha!" the contact's figure enlarges as the connection forms, it's blue silhouette providing the only colour other than drab in the cantina. "They said you were orderly."
"Who?" the bounty hunter cuts to the chase, not wanting to keep the alien on call for too long, partially out of boredom and somewhat because the risk of discovery is too much to chance.
Taking a more serious tone, the contact averts his eyes towards a small datapad in his hand.
"Sending you the target's information now," the contact taps on the datapad and a small beep inside his helmet informs the bounty hunter he has received the information. "Be careful with this one. Rumour has it the man's got powerful friends who'd prefer him to be alive and unharmed."
"Don't they all," the hunter shuts off the transmission abruptly, making a mental note he still despises everyone he has to work with in this profession.
It seems his contact gave the hunter more than just his appearance, including a full character profile and list of known hunting grounds. Odd, considering most of his targets at least has a name but this only has a brief appearance and psychological profile with no mention of the 'powerful friends' the target supposedly has.
Deciding the markets seems as though it would be a logical place to begin his thorough search, he hastily exits the cantina before his sanity is permanently compromised, making sure to bump into the bouncers without apologising and even going as far as nudging one in the nose.
No attempts are made to stop him, so he just moves on with his mission and somewhat hopes it can be one of the quickest ones he has accomplished so far. This planet is not one he would prefer to spend some time in, as his helmet air conditioning constantly reminds him with sharp intakes of air.
He wouldn't have spotted his target so easily if he didn't reread the profile on his way toward the market, but he is. Remarkably, the target has no inkling he is being hunted down, standing idly in the middle of the market attempting to haggle down the price of some odd shaped fruit which is slowly secreting a thick fluid from its many pores. It would almost be too easy to simply walk up and capture him on the spot, and in his experience it's best to at least take some precautions and go against his better nature.
A painstaking wait occurs as the hunter watches the target from a distance, matching up the characteristics together as he ensures it's truly his target. In the category of arrogant snob, the human matches entirely, turning his nose up at the various beggars hounding him, even threatening one with the back of his hand at one point before the man scurried away deep into the market.
The opportunity to follow arises as the target begins to move away from the market and towards the spaceport, heading straight in and ignoring the now miniscule line gathered in front of the small checkpoint. Altogether believing his luck has turned and he would soon be leaving this planet for good, he doesn't expect the dozens of imperial blasters pointed at the back of his head.
Once he had quietly followed the man inside and raised his blaster at the man's cranium, an entire squad of Imperial stormtroopers had collapsed in from the shadows and surrounded the bounty hunter, weapons trained on him with clear intent.
"Taking a contract on an Imperial Officer is a stupid move, Mandalorian," the officer smirks, waving a small datapad he procured from his pocket at the bounty hunter. "When we were informed a contract had been taken out on me, we never assumed anyone would follow through. You must be a new type of idiot."
Arrogant. At least one thing in the contract was correct.
"Funny."
He manages a one word answer before the hard impact of the back end of an Imperial blaster forces the hunter to his knees. Many soldiers grab him and begin to restrain him with cuffs and manage to do so without any real resistance.
From the hunter's experience, they are looking for a reason to place a blaster bolt in his head right here and now. Best to keep a low profile and comply for now. It still doesn't take away from the fact someone had set him up and is taking him off the board.
Being unable to be too surprised given the treacherous nature of his work, the hunter simply sighs instead, wishing he was somewhere else apart from his slimy planet.
Given the size of the spaceport, it's not a surprise it was a short drag to the holding cells where he is unceremoniously launched into the open door and locked inside. Rigorously brushing off the foliage and dirt from his neatly cleaned armour, he stands up straight just in time to meet his new cell mate.
"What's a big Mandalorian like you done to get thrown in her with me?" a woman's voice penetrates the thin darkness, her slim Devoronian figure soon coming into view of his visor, hands on her hips and an amused smile plastered on her face.
"Poor employment choices."
