Introduction: Garfield Logan

The name is Captain Garfield Logan of the starship Titan, one of the greatest smugglers around and the famous Beast Boy himself. I pulled off of the impossible when I stole from not only the Republic Reserve, but the Jedi temple as well! Making off with hundreds of thousands of credits, and a host of Jedi Holocrons.

Beast Boy is the infamous pirate who pulled off the impossible, and as much as I would love to take credit for it my real name gives me the freedom to travel around without consequence… or a horde of Republic Troopers on my tail.

When I was growing up, the crew that I called my family couldn't be bothered to remember my real name, opting to just call me 'boy' until I earned my full nickname after I held my own against a foe that they couldn't. Its must have been quite the shock for them when they were taken into custody to learn that I was the one who turned them in and got away with a major score to boot, I wish I could have been there to see their faces when they fell into the trap I set up for them.

That brings back memories, a life of a pirate that I was never supposed to be living nor should have been in had my evil and useless uncle not lost all his credits in gambling. I have no memories before my so-called family, only through a freak accident did I learn the truth, that I was sold by my uncle to settle his debts.

My former family, the Scarlet Reapers, were one of the most infamous pirate groups around. Their exploits stopped at nothing, their morality was tossed aside if the credits were high enough, even for mass genocide. As for me, the work that no one wanted to do they left for me, and if I didn't get it done then I didn't eat. I grew up in this environment with nothing to compare it to, they commended me for my success and berated me for failing, constantly telling me to work for my food.

When I got older, they took me on missions, using my diminutive size to get around security systems or my young age as a distraction tactic. I stole, I robbed, I scammed, I cheated, I hurt, and I killed. The last one wasn't necessarily my choice, they would put a target into a room with me and a blaster, whoever was left standing got to leave alive.

Over time it became easier, diving for the blaster and rolling out of the way before firing as many times it took before the room fell silent. I would stay strong in front of them before sneaking off into one of the ducts to cry myself into a nightmare fuelled sleep, feeling a piece of myself dying each time. At the time I thought this was my family's way of training me for the harsh world outside, when in reality it was the harsh world among them that I should have been trained for.

They finally trained me to use a blaster, punishing me whenever I missed a target, their hope was to have another gun in the eventual fall out of a mission. The punishments got so gruelling that I would secretly practice whenever I could, becoming one of the best sharpshooters among them, proving myself beyond even Deadeye Jackson's skill. He never quite forgave me when I knocked him off his pedestal as the number one sharpshooter, though the fact that I could duel wield blasters with the exact same accuracy as he shut him up.

As much as I would like to say that I trained hard and forced myself to become better, there was something that I could never understand nor explain assisting my aim and giving me the confidence to know where my shot will hit before it does. The degrading feeling of knowing your own talent comes from something beyond your comprehension demeans any form of achievement you make, and the praise for that ability hurts even more so.

I found myself using blasters less and less, taking up other forms of combat professions. Forced to lie as my choice of straying from those weapons was met with resistance, luckily the Scarlet Reapers had its own martial art and vibrosword masters that happily tutored me, hoping to find in me the same skill that I had for blasters in their respective fields.

With hard work and persistence, I found I had decent skill in both, allowing me to avoid using blasters in the field. The Scarlet Reaper's captain didn't like my newfound resolve, he tried to undermine me and falsely punish me at every step. His mind changed when one of our missions went south drastically and we were faced with our first Sith Lord and apprentice, our mission was nearly scrubbed until I jumped into the fray and stole the apprentice's lightsaber, turning the fight around and holding off the Sith Lord long enough for the rest of them to complete their mission.

For a long time, my nickname was 'boy', nothing more nothing less, just simply 'boy'. The moment I held my own against that Sith Lord, I earned respect and prestige among the pirates as they started calling me a beast, and that was how I earned my nickname 'Beast Boy'. It was also from this that sparked an obsession, after stealing that Sith apprentice's lightsaber it was worth a lot of credits that the pirates hoped to sell, but the gem inside caught my eye. The temptation to steal it was too much, and I used what little skill I had in wielding to create a necklace out of it. A badge of honour that I had earned for myself.

The Scarlet Reapers encouraged my obsession as with my newfound capacity to take on the force sensitive warriors allowed them to go on riskier missions, facing even more force users for greater rewards. After either defeating them, or on the rare occasion that I managed to get the upper hand and kill one, the Scarlet Reapers would always make sure that they secured the lightsaber if I failed to, giving me the crystal inside before they broke it down for parts.

A badge of honour that hung around my neck, one that I had made myself with my own skill, one that I felt proud of despite the fact that I sometimes killed my opponents. It wasn't that I actively tried to, I only wished to prove my skill and show that I actually fought for my achievements, though sometimes my hand was forced as the choice became my life or theirs. Self-preservation always won out.

Though I was respected and becoming one among the Scarlet Reapers, I always felt the odd one out, the freak that shouldn't be there. Where all the other pirates revelled in their work, I hated it. Their ruthlessness, wanton destruction, and thirst for blood sickened me, inflicting countless nightmares upon me that leave me sleepless. As the older I got the worst I felt, until I noticed a trend that had me questioning everything I knew.

Out of a crew of pirates consisting mainly of humans, being the only mirialan among them had me wondering about my heritage. Whenever I tried to ask questions about my past, it was always slapped down with one of their repeated lines of us all being a family. I had to search for the truth myself, and what I found nearly destroyed me. My own uncle sold me to pay his debts, and I was destined for the slave pens in the Hutt Cartels.

How I escaped was by pure chance, one of the team's best pirates had gotten themselves killed and they were down a skilled fighter. They kept me to fill in the spot that they lost, hoping they could shape me into the mould that was left vacant by the deceased pirate. To put it bluntly, I was distraught, I was merely a replacement for a missing gun.

With that piece of information knocking around in my head, it forced me to realise where my loyalties lie, and that wasn't with the Scarlet Reapers. Then they made the mistake of trusting me with their latest mission to kill a Republic ambassador not long after I found out the truth, sparking an idea that may secure me the escape that I found myself wanting and to take out the Scarlet Reapers all in one go. All I had to do was capture a Jedi Padawan, easy right?

Well it was certainly easy thinking about, in practice… not so much. Getting the Jedi Knight away from their padawan proved difficult with the other pirates running around, though with a bit of effort I managed to secure my target in the hold of the ship. Contacting the Jedi temple, I pretended to be the captain of the Scarlet Reapers and organised an exchange at the consulate building, putting the majority of the Republic forces in the one place that the Scarlet Reapers had to infiltrate in order to kill their target. I made sure to include the descriptions of all the Scarlet Reapers, knowing that the pirates had planned to sneak into the building as catering staff to avoid being seen.

The anticipation of my plan coming to fruition had me excited, so much so that I started planning other missions, ones that I could do after I escaped. Then I found out an interesting detail that the other pirates laughed at once they heard it, when there is a possible threat any where near the consulate building then security from the important buildings were forcibly called in to assist. With my plan to bring down the Scarlet Reapers, it meant other targets around the consulate would be vulnerable.

A potential target stood out… the Republic Reserve, one of the most heavily protected places in the Republic. A place that no one with any sense of sanity would dare to rob, though with the advantage of having all eyes on With a plan in place, and luck on my side, I put my plan into action. Waited until all hell broke loose at the consulate building, I broke into the reserve and stole as much credits as I could carry, making my escape out while the alarms sounded announcing my presence.

The chaos exploded as troopers couldn't tell which way they were suppose to go, orders were thrown about and confusion erupted. As useful as that situation was for me, it forced me to change my escape plan after I nearly got found by the troopers, and the only building that didn't have anyone running in or out of happened to be the Jedi temple.

While I was hiding out inside there, that mysterious influence choose that moment to rear is head once again and lead me through the labyrinth of the temple. I didn't have any other choice but to follow it, the alternative was capture. I ended up in some secured storage room with many cubes that looked interested, so I snatched them and bolted from the building once the chance arose to escape.

It took extra effort to make it off world, sneaking through checkpoints and finding the right smuggler that would brave a blockade for the right price. Though, I can say with pride that I was far far away before they even realised the full extent of what I took, or the plan that they fell into as it was the padawan who explained what really happened.

Blaring across the news board was the most hideous and outlandish depiction of me that I have ever seen, it worked in my favour as they had to remove it quickly after many mirialans were falsely arrested.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, there happened to be this old beat up freighter left in a dry dock for as long as I can remember at the outer rim spaceport that pirates regularly visit. Using my new credits and I bought the old rust bucket, fixing her up and upgrading what I could, I took my new ship out to make a new name for myself.

With new contacts and jobs, it allowed me to find what I can about my past before the Scarlet Reapers, which happened to be nothing more than how evil my uncle was. Its frustrating that no one knows anything about my parents, that they could live their entire life and not leave a single trace of them. I even searched for my evil uncle to no avail, he managed to disappear so completely that I am starting to believe he may be dead and buried after not paying his debts off.

In any case, I carried on with the vague hope of finding my family, praying that I can at least know of my heritage. Anything would be preferable to nothing, not knowing where I came from or who were my family are hurts more than I can put into words. All I can do for now is work missions, grow my already vast fortune, and hope that something falls from the sky that could lead me to my family.

With that said, I am now sat on the rear ramp out of the Titan, relaxing under the blistering sun of Tatooine. A favourite client of mine happens to be the Hutt Cartels, they always pay well and don't try to stab me in the back. My reputation of being reliable took awhile to build, but it paid off in the long run with wealthy clients and respect among the other smugglers.

I don't like being anywhere near this sand blasted planet if I can't help it, the people here are less than trustworthy and any worthwhile job is already snatched up by the regulars to this planet. I do sometimes do small time jobs if I am bored enough, though not here as they will always haggle over the price to the point that I just turn around leave.

So, why am I still on this sandy pit? The love of gambling with other smugglers, sharing stories and enjoying the company of others in the same line of work. Its fun to just sit around and joke with each other, complain about clients or speculate on what we carry for our clients.