Chapter Ten: Of Clones and Clankers
"Boss, when will we arrive?" asks the high-pitched buzz of a B-1 Battle droid. "We've been walking to this town for hours!"
Four of the skeletally thin, long-snouted humanoid war machines were marching towards the northern settlement of Freetown in the Mos Pelgo territories of Tatooine. They were flanking a towering droid with limbs of immense girth and a squat head, reminiscent of a BX-Series commando droid's, almost as if he were a "supercommando" droid. On each arm, he had mounted wrist blasters and on an electrostaff was mounted, alongside a blaster rifle, slung over his shoulder.
"Quit whining, Bits!" harshly droned the deep voice of the towering droid. "I've already paid fortunes for your upgrades! At least you're not as pathetic as the older CIS models."
"But, Beezee!" complained another droid. "You could have bought a transport!"
"Our clients among the Dawn needed an IG- 100 to supply their Pyke allies," reminded BZ, the "supercommando" droid. "I wasted a fortune procuring one! So, we're a bit low on funds Bugz!"
"But, aren't we rich?" inquired the third. "You pay us well, after each job. Everyone in the crew can chip in!"
"We need credits for the revolution, Czerkis!" scolds BZ. " Now hurry, we have to pay Freetown a visit."
As the droids march on, their sensors soon catch sight of the quaint, little settlement.
"Let's get the job done," growls the supercommando droid.
It is in the deep night of Mos Espa and all is quiet, except at the Galactic Bank's Tatooine Office, a most corrupt of financial institutions, with many ties to the planet's underworld. There, Boba Fett, Emir of Tatooine, bashes in the horned head of a Vodran security thug with his gaderffii stick. Another rushes him, swinging a massive metal club. The armored Emir slams his staff into the club, the wooden shaft, now reinforced by beskar alloy, denting the club before it smashes into him. With a swift, flowing motion, Boba smashes the staff into the skull of the guard, with audible crunching echoing through the dimly-lit halls of the building.
"Groaaaarrrrrr!" Boba's rancor roars, as her massive leathery fists tear through walls of security thugs, sending them screaming and flying into plexiglass windows, shattering them, and out into the dark streets of Mos Espa.
"Nice one Muchi!" Zeyma quips, as she blasts a Vodran guard with the blaster mounted into her right arm.
"Uggggrearaerarerere!" Athmot the Gamorrean squeals, urging the young cyborg to focus, as he runs his vibro-axe through a Vodran's neck.
"Fine!" sighs Zeyma, shooting another guard with a blaster pistol.
As Boba makes his way towards the vault of the bank, one of the thuggish security guards rushes towards him. The armored Emir casually points his wrist-mounted flamethrower at him, leaving the guard a smoldering pile of ash in seconds.
"You people aren't authorized here!" shouts the slimy voice of the Chief Banker, a short-snouted, mustached Nimbanel.
Shoving aside the banker with his elbow, Boba gets to the massive durasteel door of the vault, secured by a digital lock with a green touchscreen keypad. Raising the clubbed end of his gaderffii stick, he smashes the keypad, shattering the plexiglass screen. With a chink, the vault unlocks. As its door swings open with a loud screech, Boba stands silently. Once the gate into the vault opens wide, he marches in.
"Wait, stop!" cries the slimy banker, chasing after the armored Emir.
Boba Fett continues his march until he comes across a large safe emblazoned with a symbol resembling a diamond with a central eye and two accompanying spikes; that of the Pyke Syndicate. Snatching the handle to the safe's door, he violently tears it open. He grunts in disbelief as Zeyma rushes into the hallway, knocking over the chief banker.
"Hey!" cries the banker.
"What do the Pykes have, Boba?" inquires Zeyma, eager for the loot.
The armored Emir gestures his blaster at the safe's interior, leading Zeyma to look inside.
"What the?!" the Zeltron exclaims in disbelief. "That has to be less than 30,000 credits!"
Boba turns his gaze to the shivering chief banker. Stowing away his staff, he begins signing a message.
"Where are the credits?!" translates Zeyma with almost as much passion, as Boba's gesturing.
"I don't know," replies the banker.
Boba claps his hands together, alerting Muchi who roars in the direction of the banker.
"Aaaghhh!" screams the banker. "Okay, the Pyke Expansion Corps spent all their wealth from Oba Diah this month."
"That's bantha fodder!" yells Zeyma, not even translating Boba. "Everyone knows the Pyke Syndicate are powerful enough to conquer worlds!"
Boba raises his hand, leading Zeyma to calm down panting.
"It's true," explained the banker. "They have been working with a contractor. The prices he charges them, it's ridiculous!"
Boba stares at the banker silently through his t-visor. What contractor could bankrupt the Pykes?
"Boba, you have a message," interjected Zeyma. "It's Jahnara."
Boba shot one last glare at the banker, before marching out past Muchi and onto the streets. Boba watches as Zeyma activates the hologram projector, leading the Vie'vantae sage's form to materialize in the light.
"How's construction?" inquires Fett.
"It's going well Emir," replies Jahnara B'ram. "But that's not why I called."
Boba cocked his head slightly.
"Your message for an alliance has reached Freetown," explains the architect. "Don Shavamo knows this."
"Then why haven't I heard anything?" Boba asks.
"He is unsure," answers Jahnara.
Boba nods, as B'ram waves and cuts the transmission. So he would have to make his way to the former Mos Pelgo territories.
As the Twin Suns rise the next morning, the gunship Slave I rotates onto its back as it descends upon the outskirts of the quaint settlement of Freetown, formerly known as Mos Pelgo. Emir Boba Fett emerges from the ship flanked by Zeyma, the Gamorrean Duo, and his new muscle, the Wookiee bounty hunter Black Krrsantan or Santo for short. Marching into the town, he scans the area, looking side-to-side. The sandy streets of the settlement are bare. No soul is out, even to conduct business. The moisture vaporators are left unattended and only livestock like eopies and banthas are around.
"Errrrrhhhh!" roars the voice of a young female Tusken.
Boba whips out his blaster carbine, as he is met with a barrage of viciously fast bashing from a teenage Tusken warrior's gaderffii stick. With a single swipe, the young Tusken knocks the armored Emir's weapon from his hands. As Zeyma, the Gamorrean duo, and Santo ready themselves to defend their leader, he instinctively snatches his own gaderffii stick and readies it for combat, holding it firmly, but loosely, as A'Garrha once taught him.
In one moment he watches the young warrior. She is about fifteen standard years of age, wearing golden-brown robes with patterns resembling the lost waves and greenery of Tatooine. Her head was wrapped in a turban-like cloth, with dark-brown, curly locks that flowed to her waist. Covering her face was a metal mask that reminded Boba of both A'Kagri's and A'Garrha's. And he noticed she gripped her staff as if she were strangling it. However, in the next moment, she caught sight of Boba's staff and dropped her weapon in shock.
"Where did you get that?!" she signed, her hands forceful as if demanding.
As Santo readied his bowcaster, Boba raised a hand signaling the madclaw to stand down. Stowing away his Tusken weapon, the armored Emir began to sign a reply.
"I forged it with A'Garrha," answered Boba. "Most senior warrior of the I'Ka tribe! And the greatest fighter in the Dune Sea!"
Boba watches as the young Tusken stops, unable to respond for a good minute. She then replies with hand motions that the armored Emir had not seen in a long time.
"Warrior from the Great Maw?" signs the young Tusken.
Boba pauses, staring blankly at the young Tusken. Then, from behind his helm, a twinkle comes into his eye. Removing the Mandalorian helmet, revealing his tan, acid-scarred face beneath, the Warrior from the Great Maw, asks his own question.
"A'Kagri?" he utters.
He watches the warrior. The young Tusken's age. Four years ago, she would have been eleven standard years of age, like A'Kagri. The pin on her head cloth. The same as the one U'Kaghho gave her to designate the heir to the I'Ka. And her robes' patterns certainly reflected I'Ka art with the lost waves and greenery of Tatooine.
"I thought you were dead," admits Boba. "Your father signed…"
A'Kagri is no- were his last hand signals.
"A'Kagri is not dead," gasps Boba coming to a realization.
A wide grin comes to his face as he and A'Kagri come into a friendly embrace, with Boba shutting his eyes. After that Jedi murdered his father, Boba had been alone. After Aurra Sing abandoned him, he again was alone. And he thought this time, after the Pykes killed the I'Ka, he was alone once more. He was expecting his newfound Fett Emirate to collapse before his eyes, before he would face any miracle. Yet here was his young friend, alive and well. But who could have…
"Aeerrrrhhhhh!" called another Tusken female.
"Well, well, Boba it seems you know the I'Ka Chief as well," hissed a voice familiar to Boba.
Boba left A'Kagri's embrace, coming face-to-face with a most unexpected pair: Bossk, his old Trandoshan partner from his bounty hunting life, and a tall, one-armed Tusken female warrior with dreadlocks and a metal plated mask.
"You know each other?" the Warrior from the Great Maw inquires, unsure of who he is asking, turning his gaze from A'Kagri to Bossk to A'Garrha. "And you're alive, A'Garrha?!"
A'Garrha began signing with one hand, clumsy in her motions. Boba had trouble interpreting, but it was clear that she survived.
"I'm sorry about the arm," apologized Boba. "I actually burnt it in a funeral pyre."
A'Garrha began signing furiously. Again, Boba found her message hard to follow, but she seemed upset by his decision.
"I thought you were dead," justified Boba. "Besides, I can get you a new one."
A'Garrha stopped confused.
"I have an arm in mind," chuckled the Warrior from the Great Maw.
"You were keeping my messages from reaching Boba!" growled Bossk from behind. "Why you overgrown carpet!"
"Graarooooaohhhh!" roared Santo in Shryiiwook.
Boba whipped his head around and caught sight of the towering, green Trandoshan snarling face to face with the obsidian Wookiee madclaw. With a sigh, Boba put on his helmet and began to approach the arguing bounty hunters.
"I have worked with your so-called Emir since he was a child!" snarled Bossk. "You have no right taking my loyalty from him!"
"Graarooooaohhhh!"
"You say you've worked with him under Jabba!" scoffed the reptilian. "That means nothing when-"
"Enough!" Boba barked in a low, quiet shout.
He watches as the Trandoshan and the Madclaw look at him. With a silent glare, they both back down. As they move out of each other's way, Zeyma comes into view. Her eyes are wide.
"What is happening?" she inquires.
"Long story," A'Kagri signs. "You should talk with the Sentry of the Free Village."
Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Freetown was sitting in the basement of Taanti the Weequay's bar, when he heard footsteps coming from the stairs with the sound of spurs clanking. Looking up, he sees the shadow of Mandalorian armor, moving along the wall. Soon enough, Boba Fett, honorable Emir of Tatooine, emerges into the basement and walks towards Vanth. He is wearing green Mandalorian armor, with yellow shoulder pads and red around the t-visor. Vanth immediately recognized the gear. As he thought to say something, a teenage Zeltron girl came out from behind Boba.
"Emir Boba Fett thanks you for taking care of his armor," explains the girl. "And for using it to protect those in need."
"No problem, Lord Fett," sheepishly replies Vanth. "By the way, the damage on your jetpack was not on me. Another Mandalorian did that."
The armored Emir signed a message to the Zeltron girl, but as she tried to deliver it, Vanth interrupted.
"I know those signals Lord Fett," chuckled the Marshal. "You said, er- the Thief of No Tribe did it first."
"You know the sign language of the Tuskens?" asked Fett in that language.
"Yes," Vanth signed. "One of my deputies A'Kagri idea storied me."
The armored Emir cocked his head in confusion.
"I meant taught," realized the Marshal, speaking out loud. "Still a bit rusty with the signals."
So A'Kagri had been a deputy marshal while Boba had been busy forging his Fett Emirate. He would have to ask her more.
"Where's Fennec?" asked Vanth. "She was your emissary."
"Visiting a friend," Boba answers, signing his reply. "Why hide down here?"
He watches as the Marshal of Freetown deeply sighs.
"A contractor hired by the Pykes and his crew has threatened Freetown," explains Vanth. "They threatened to torch this place to the ground. It's why A'Kagri was so on edge that she attacked you."
Boba cocked his head. So the ones who sheltered his friend were being threatened.
"Where are they now?" Boba signs.
"Biggest warehouse in Mos Eisley," explains Vanth. "Tell you what. If you help us take this contractor into custody, I'll pledge Freetown to the Fett Emirate."
Boba nods, affirming the deal.
"Let's get goin' then," replies Vanth.
The armored Emir and the Marshal of Freetown look from behind the corner of a sandstone building at a large durasteel warehouse. Standing in front of the main entrance are two skeletally thin, long snouted figures that Boba recognized from a bygone era. Flashes of the Petranaki arena on Geonosis come to his mind.
"B1s?" he audibly whispers to Vanth.
"They work for the Pyke contractor," explains the Marshal.
"Is he expensive?" inquires Boba, thinking back to the empty vault of the bank he raided.
"He says so," answers the Marshal.
So that's why the Pykes were low on funds.
"What is he anyway?" asks Boba.
"He's a BZ-series Supercommando Droid," answers Vanth, "Was built for the Seps back in the Clone Wars."
"Never heard of that model," admits Boba.
"Neither have I until I met the contractor," concurs Vanth. "He says a unit of clones destroyed the rest of his line before they could be mass-produced. He's the last of his kind."
"Those are my brothers for you," Boba replied, with a proud smile beneath his helm.
"Excuse me gentlemen," calls a mechanical-esque male voice from behind the two. "May I pass through?"
Boba and Cobb turn around, meeting face-to-face with a very peculiar droid. He was slightly taller than Boba with long humanoid legs. His outer layer was wrapped in cloth and his face was a mechanical faceplate without any discernible human features, merely red blinkers. Around his collar area were energy conduction tubes and around the sides of his head were constructs resembling cybernetic neural implants.
"Sure," answered Vanth.
"Um, thanks," thanked the droid.
The mechanical being hobbled off away from the direction of the warehouse, leaving Boba and the Marshal watching.
"Interesting droid," muses Vanth.
"His voice sounds familiar," Boba notes. "I just can't figure out where it's from."
He turns back to the B1 Battle droids stationed in front of the warehouse. How hard could this be? These were B1s after all.
"Hey Czerkis," noted one of the droids stationed in front of the warehouse. "I hear the New Republic's been snoopin' around the Arkanis sector lately."
"Really," replies the other droid, Czerkis. "You know Bugz, I ran into a Mandalorian the other day at the spaceport. The silverhead tried to cut me into pieces with a black lightsaber!"
"That's rude," chattered Bugz. "Good thing BZ gave us a coat of phrik alloy on our bodies. We're the strongest droids in the Galaxy!"
"Roger, roger," affirmed Czerkis.
Clang!
Czerkis's head suddenly jerked forward as the force of a club bashed into the back of his head.
"Hey, not again!" cried the B1.
He turns around, blaster raised, staring into the red-lined t-visor of a green Mandalorian helmet. The armored warrior stands, his head cocked in surprise.
Ptcheeew! A blaster's bolt whizzes from behind Czerkis.
"Hey!" cried Bugz.
The other droid is staring down a man in a faded red shirt and bandana with graying hair and stubble, who held a blaster pistol in his hands.
"Wait a minute you fools!" exclaimed Czerkis. "We have reinforced phrik alloy coating."
"We're invincible!" cheered Bugz before pointing his blaster at the man's chest. "Now come with us!"
Czerkis did the same with the armored warrior and fired a stun blast in unison with Bugz, knocking out the pair of attackers.
The world was in darkness, as Boba sat… somewhere. As fluorescent bluish light filtered into the gaps growing between his eyelids, he made out layers of duracrete above him. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around. The first thing he noticed was that he didn't gaze through the t-visor of his helmet; it had been removed. The next thing he noticed was that Cobb Vanth was next to him. Then he noticed that there were cadavers of livestock, skinned and all, hanging around him, apparently floating towards the duracrete ceiling? It was then he realized that he and Vanth were hanging upside-down.
"It's been too long since I've seen a clone like you," droned a cold, mechanical voice, oozing with resentment.
Boba looked up, catching sight of a towering, bulky droid with the head of a CIS Commando Droid. Slung over his shoulder was an electrostaff and a blaster rifle and on his arms were wrist-mounted blasters. Noticing his hands were free Boba began signing to what was probably the supercommando droid described by Vanth.
"I am afraid I do not understand what you are saying trooper," replied the Droid Supercommando.
"I think he was asking to be released," translated Cobb, who had apparently awakened.
"Hmph," the droid gave a buzzing snort. "I'm afraid not. My clients have great need of your capture, Emir- what was your birth number?"
Boba began signing furiously at the supercommando.
"He says he is no number," clarified Vanth, interpreting Boba. "None of the clones are!"
"Clones and their desire for freedom," scoffed the droid supercommando. "Something that your 'brothers' and I actually have in common."
The commando made a buzzing noise that could only be described as a chuckle in organic terms.
"And before you say me and my units are enslaved to the Pykes," pre-emptively countered the droid. "Know that I, BZ-56, have the Pykes and their benefactors funding our revolution."
Boba looked to Vanth, an eyebrow raised, or as raised as it could be with them upside -down.
Boba stared at BZ blankly.
"Does your revolution mean you have to oppress my town?" inquires Cobb.
"I apologize for the threats we had to make," the droid sounded slightly genuine. "But it was our assignment. Take peace in knowing I have nearly bankrupted the Pyke Expansionary Corps for this month."
"Hey, boss!" called a B1 battle droid's high-pitched squeaking trill.
"Not now Czerkis," growled BZ.
"It's from Lady Qi-"
"Put her through!" ordered BZ.
Czerkis the droid put out his arm, holding a comlink, activating it. A formal woman's voice came on as it began to glow.
"BZ-56, I'm afraid to inform you that the Pykes have canceled their contract," explained the woman.
"What?!" snarled the droid.
"They felt your costs were too… prohibitive," she elaborated. "So I have allowed them to terminate their agreement with you."
As Boba listened in, he swore he remembered this voice from some place. Memories of nearly losing his score of delivering Han Solo's frozen body to Jabba the Hutt flashed in his mind.
"Well, I still have their credits," BZ gleefully pointed out.
"About that," chuckled the woman's voice.
"Give us the kriffing money droid!" screamed a Pyke's unhinged voice from outside the warehouse. "Or our Scorpenek Droids shall blow this place to bits!"
"Dank ferrik!" cursed the Droid supercommando.
A'Kagri sits in the co-pilot seat of the Slave I, the Warrior from the Great Maw's gunship, with Zeyma in the pilot's seat. The ship is flying towards Mos Eisley.
"Something's definitely wrong," notes Zeyma, choking the ship's joystick. "You ready A'Kagri?"
The young Tusken warrior nodded, shaking her gaderffii stick.
"Great," Zeyma said with a smile. "Let's lan- What the krif are those?!"
A'Kagri and Zeyma peer out of the viewport, catching sight of two massive walker-like droids covered in a crimson energy shield surrounding a warehouse, flanked by a single Pyke.
Boba begins signing frantically at BZ-56.
"Emir Fett offers to help you escape," explains Cobb Vanth, translating the armored Emir's message. "Just cut us free first."
Boba watches as Vanth turns to him.
"Sure about this?" whispers the marshal.
"It's the best chance we have," signs Boba.
"What may you ask in return?" inquires the droid supercommando.
Boba signs to BZ-56
"Your allegiance to the Fett Emirate," translates Vanth.
"Such a clone," scoffs BZ.
The former Separatist war droid aims both his wrist-blasters at the bindings that leave Boba and Vanth hanging, one pointed at each binding. He fires, leaving the two to collapse onto the cold floor of the meat warehouse.
"Here are your weapons," offered the droid. "Bits, Bugz! Arm them!"
Two B1-battle droids rush over to the pair. One hands Vanth his blaster pistol and Boba his blaster carbine and gaderffii stick, while the other hands Boba his helm. Boba grabs it, putting it on, before giving an affirming nod to BZ.
"Never thought I'd see clones and clankers working together," noted BZ.
Boba cocks his head.
"It's what your brothers called us droids," explains BZ. "I have reclaimed it as a term of respect."
"As you wish," Boba replies. "Clanker."
Vram Krim, Viceroy of the Pyke Expansionary Corps, stands outside the meat warehouse, in the dark of night in Mos Eisley. Flanking him are two massive Scorpenek-class droids, originally designed by the Colicoids for the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars. Like mechanical centaurs, they stand towering over Krim and his men, with two massive double-barrelled blaster cannons and staring out with a single red optic sensor. Surrounding them are massive red shields, like giant droidekas. Krim paces back and forth, snarling like a caged animal.
"Gah!" he growls. "This is taking too long, fire!"
With a mechanical buzz each, the Scorpeneks begin to open fire on the warehouse, their blasters whirring with trills reminiscent of the Droideka's blasters.
Bang!
As the warehouse erupts into flames, an armored warrior, a man in a red shirt, a BZ-series supercommando droid, and four battle droids leap out of the fires.
"Emir Fett," chuckles Krim. "How nice of you to join us."
Ignoring the Pyke commander, Boba smashes his gaderffii stick into the side of Krim's head and rushes past him, followed by Vanth, BZ, and the B1s. Snarling with rage, the Pyke viceroy points at the escapees. The Scorpeneks turn around and follow in pursuit.
Boba presses the comlink in his helmet, as he and the others run from the shockingly quick Scorpenek droids.
"Zeyma," he calls through his comlink. "Come here and shoot those Scorpeneks!"
The Slave I, which had apparently already been in town, jets down to the Mos Eisley skyline and fires several rapid shots at a Scorpenek, only to have those blasts dissipated by the glowing red energy shield. All the while, Vanth, BZ, and the B1s are firing their blasters repeatedly at the droid.
"Sorry Boba," she apologizes through the comms. "Not even your ship's guns can penetrate those shields."
Boba growls in frustration. He recalled that slow-moving objects could penetrate such shields. But even so, the armor plating on these droids would be too much to handle for his blaster. Then it hit him.
"BZ!" called Boba. "Give me your electrostaff!"
The supercommando droid looks at him blankly for a second. He then tosses the electrostaff to Boba, who grabs it and stows away his gaderffii stick. Rushing towards one Scorpenek, the armored Emir leaps away from several of its shots. As he reaches the shield, he makes a sudden stop, as the droid walks closer to him, allowing the warrior passage under the shield. Springing into action again, Boba climbs the droid's body, as it adjusts its position, frantically attempting to shake him off. He soon reaches the top of the droid's "head" and faces towards where it is firing. Raising BZ's electrostaff, he plunges it inwards, piercing the optic sensor of the gargantuan war machine. With several jolts of electricity, the droid deactivates, collapsing as Boba leaps off onto the sandy ground below.
"Watch out!" cries Vanth.
Boba turns around, finding himself face-to-face with the other droid, whose cannons are aimed right at him. He stares into its glowing red eye, ready to accept his fate.
Bang!
Suddenly, the droid erupts into a blaze, as it is engulfed in an explosion. Boba watches, confused and turns to look behind the Scorpenek's burning remains. Standing there is the strange droid from earlier outside the warehouse, standing by.
"You're welcome," was all it said before hobbling off.
Boba cocked his head.
Strange, he thought.
"All in a day's work Lord Fett!" chuckled Cobb Vanth.
Boba looked at this Marshal of Freetown, flanked by A'Kagri, A'Garrha, Santo, Bossk, and BZ-56.
"I want you to have this," signed Boba.
He watched Vanth's jaw drop, as Zeyma stepped off the Slave I, carrying the black and red armor that once belonged to Jodo Kast.
"New armor," gasped the Marshal. "I didn't do much."
"You helped me forge an alliance with the droids," Boba signed his reply. "Besides, you sheltered my friend, A'Kagri. Consider this a sign of friendship."
Vanth smiled.
Boba curtly nodded, as Zeyma, Santo, Bossk, and BZ boarded the Slave I. However, before Boba headed back to the Fett Palace, he needed to ask A'Kagri one last question.
"Who murdered our tribesmen?" signed Boba to A'Kagri, inquiring about what really happened that day.
A'Kagri tensed up, snorting with fury.
"When I find him," A'Kagri signed viciously. "His blood will submerge the Dune Sea."
The Twin Suns rise over the Mos Pelgo territories. In the settlement of Freetown, all are asleep, except for Cobb Vanth. The Marshal was wearing his new blue and red beskar armor, cradling his new helm beneath his arm. It sure felt good to have armor again. He looked around his quaint little town, yet to start up for the day. BZ's old crew were helping tend to the banthas, when Vanth approached them.
"I'll take it from here," offered Vanth.
"Sure thing boss!" squeaked Czerkis. "Come on, let's get charged!"
"Roger, roger!" affirmed the other three.
As they went back into Taanti's bar, Vanth looked over his shoulder into the distant desert beyond. Nothing but the surrounding canyons, some moisture vaporators, and the tall silhouette of a distant stranger approaching town…
Vanth dropped his helmet in shock, as the silhouette gradually grew larger and larger. His tailcoats blew in the wind, as Cobb stared grimly into the desert. The marshal marched towards the edge of town, as he examined the figure growing closer and closer. He noticed the figure was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a leather jacket, with silver vambraces on his forearms and what appeared to be silver breathing tubes coming from the sides of his face. Soon, the figure arrived right in front of Freetown. Vanth could see a silver stick, blowing rusted spice dust out of the stranger's mouth; in fact, he could smell its herbal stench. Yet he couldn't see the being's face. He stared at the stranger intently for a second.
"Cobb Vanth," growled the deep, nasally voice of the stranger, as he removed his spice stick from his mouth with his right hand, ending in five long, thin pale-blue fingers.
"Who might you be?" asked Vanth, standing nervously.
The stranger is quiet for a moment.
"Whatever Fett's paying you," snarled the stranger. "The Collective shall match. And all you have to do is stay put."
Vanth glares silently at the stranger in the wide-brimmed hat.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Vanth says.
The stranger is silent and tilts his head up, revealing a long, noseless pale-blue face, with skin like a shriveled fruit, with piercing blood red eyes, brows furrowed in a cold glare.
"I'd be careful where I stick my nose if I were you," growled the stranger. "Didn't go so well for your deputy and her tribe."
Vanth stares, gasping. The stranger is silent for another moment.
"Boba Fett was a cold-blooded killer who worked with the Empire," explained the stranger. "He's no hero."
Vanth stares down the stranger.
"This planet's seen enough violence," Vanth replies, almost crying.
The stranger smirks.
"You should've never given up your armor," taunts the stranger, pushing aside a tailcoat to reveal his blaster pistol.
Vanth shudders as he puts his hand above his blaster.
"I have new armor," he retorts.
The stranger snorts.
"I doubt it'll do," scoffs the stranger.
Vanth stares at the stranger's piercing red eyes and he returns the favor. The stares turn into glares, as all grows silent and time seems to stop around them. As Vanth's hand rushes towards his blaster, an energy bolt whizzes from the stranger's direction and strikes Vanth in the beskar chestplate, near the shoulder, piercing through the metal and onto the marshal's flesh.
"Aaaagghhh!" he cries, as the heat of the stranger's shot scorches his flesh.
Vanth collapses to the ground, the world spinning around him. The last thing he heard was a declaration by this mysterious attacker.
"So long as the spice keeps running, everyone will be left alone," warns the stranger.
With that, Vanth's vision goes black.