#as you wish / 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫. — starter

[honorhunt]

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 filtered from the blackened atmosphere into the treacly sea of panna’s red moon. beyond the enormous inflated shield that protected the system’s largest city nothing stirred despite the breezy uptick. no tide nor current, or waves or ripples to speak of. there was a severe lack of phenomenon that contributed to the health of a submerged ecosystem. still, beneath kilometers of starchy stillness, life not only thrived but grew to titanic proportions.

      standing on panna city’s transparent overcoat, the entire city beneath his soles, boba fett surveyed the magenta horizon with an equally motionless obsidian glare. shimmering displays from the towering skyline beneath refracted through the shield’s flexible material, splitting light beams into pale rays of color. too washed out to blind the bounty hunter, the residual light pollution formed a glowing corona that offered a boost of visibility in the dark sea.

      something beyond the reach of the natural eye caught boba’s attention. gripping his rangefinder, the boy leaned forward, the shift in position betraying the slightness of his frame. for a brief pause, only the muffled flap of the bounty hunter’s half-cap broke up the gelid scene. an image swiftly interrupted as the helmet’s protruding scope snapped back to an vertical position.

      ❝ ready? ❞ viewplate framed by scarred vermillion regarded the girl closeby. crowned by curls of amber gold, her face bore a striking similarity to the one rooted in the contoured recesses of the helmet. but on her, the features were softer, colored by an inquisitive innocence long scored from his own. ❝ still got the grub? ❞

—  @lionthought​ as 𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀

[honorhunt]

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖-𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 enclosed skywalker ranch’s enormous territory, protecting its cerulean heart from the wringing hands of the outside world. golden ochre of winter’s sunset leeched below the reaching horizon, cooling into cinders of indigo. icy stars plucked from the heavens cascaded in slow swirls. the usual calls from the enclosed safari that surrounded the manmade lake were absent tonight, replaced by the wind chimes that outlined the veranda below. the ranch’s prehistoric residents were all tucked into cozy, thermal bunkers with food and water aplenty. earlier in the day, the team got the more docile herbivores frollicking with snowball fights and tubing the slopes. apples sweetened with monkfruit and thick slabs of bison flank were presented by the team. but now that the stringent cold of christmas eve descended on the mountains, the dinosaurs were corralled so that the humans could continue the festivities in the warmth of the solo’s rustic mansion.

      begrudgingly, fett found himself enjoying the company to a degree he didn’t expect. even the younger heathens blitzing over the artisanal furniture with the behemoth shaped like a dog couldn’t dispel the charm. but as the night progressed, the man’s tolerance for celebrations shriveled. he strayed on the perimeters of the room, thoughts finding their way to the anticipation waiting in his ute.

      his first full year in the states was setting in just a handful of days. life collapsed and rebuilt itself in a way that might strike other’s as normal, yet a sense of not-right burrowed into the nape of his neck. every stage of boba’s life was in death’s theater. each foot caught in an opposing act: the nonpartisan brutality of nature and the dollar-soaked demands of high tech hubris. before he ever understood the permanence of death boba rivaled poachers. observed creatures, abundant with life just moments before, ripped to ragged strips of raw meat. dared still bloodied maws to chase him in a solitary child’s jerry rigged game of tag. witnessed men whittled down to rungs on ambition, left behind as a brooding nemesis or a mysterious end left cold. expertise concluded impartial teeth were by far more humane than proprietary hunger.

      for thirty-two years fett was shaped by that surreal tug of war. ancient titans for friends and neighbors, a man dead by his hand when it was twice smaller than the gun it held, and an untraceable list of names written in blood on the back of a paycheck.

      yet it was the thought of turning over a gift that burned holes in the solo’s deck. evening snowfall failed to compete with the recompense balanced uncertainly in his hands.

      his gift didn’t look like much. swaddled in newspaper till it had no discernable shape and secured with butcher’s twine. all the strain on fett’s tenacity was recapturing the vivid detail that originally spurred the gift’s conception. initially, boba intended it for christmas the year following the final nail in john hammond’s legacy — but their relationship was stricken by a premature finale. for three years, boba’s half-done labor haunted him from the bottom of a splotchy tackle box. his heart couldn’t handle the momentary heat to satisfy the urge to crush his creation into physical representation of bliss never to be recaptured. cushioned by the remains of a clawed-up rucksack and its aggressively crumpled blueprints, boba banished it out of sight it — but never did it stray far from his mind.

      its ghost became insufferable after ahsoka joined the ranch’s primary team. months marched by. boba, stubbornly loyal to the way things ended between them, bled out the itch to acknowledge the tackle box poised innocuously on a shelf. but as summer’s mild hold on the sierra nevadas waned into a balmy september, that itch became a wounding sore.

      while his juniors schemed about what best to get their friends, boba decided a gift to her might be in poor taste. a worry that sizzled into reluctantly buying her something useful but easily dismissable. something to be chocked up to good pr between colleagues. which amounted to bitterness not built to withstand its master’s ruthless sentimentality.

      dormant inspiration sprung anew the moment he unraveled the canvas. a quick study of the shriveled schematics rapidly thawed a sparking reminder where he left off. ace, home depot, lowes, and every mom and pop within two hundred miles became intimately familiar with his face as boba spent hours fastidiously combing through electrical componentry. his search history overripe with the names of the best glassblowers from cabo san lucas to juneau as boba obsessively studied portfolios, culling options down to one.

      boba settled on a studio in seattle. called far in advance, emailing scans of hand drawn schematics when prompted, ensuring that what he wanted could be met within the precise time frame needed. with that secured, he sent shockwaves through the ranch when he announced he was taking a whole four days off.

      google was inclined to believe it was a solid thirteen hours stretch between the ranch’s front gate and the emerald city. boba sliced the trip by a quarter, arriving at the studio exactly when he said he would to promptly oversee his vision come to life. the commission took longer than the studio anticipated, but boba entertained no complaints. he’d accepted the possibility of delays as inevitable and gave his schedule strictly measured wiggle room. rather the artisan take all the care required. whatever the subsequent crunch, boba willingly shouldered it.

      still, being gone too long from his charges cinched his jawline. any number of troubles could be amassing with him more than seven hundred miles away. fixation worsened by multiple twenty-four ounce doses of sleep replacement. since leaving the ranch boba suffered no rest and wouldn’t until he returned to his own bed. thus, when glasswork cooled and he was satisfied, boba retraced his still warm trail back to tahoe.

      every second afterward, down to the hour he was expected to arrive at the solo’s absurdly luxurious lodge for dinner, was perfected into details once suspended in heartbreak. but between asking tano to spare a moment when she found one and the creeping wait on the deck, boba hung by the certainty of rejection.

      somehow, the paramilitary expert backed himself into an exposed corner. he felt ridiculous. their split was submerged in the ruins of morality, his morality. never was he transparent with her. even when it felt like he discovered his forever, boba never admitted to the plunging depths beneath the idiosyncratic understanding upon which their relationship was built. tano’s discovery of his immediate betrayal in the aftermath of the indominus’ outbreak was the curtain fall that made his dishonesty elsewhere apparent.

      no expectations of reconciliation were bundled with the twine. even though the ground beneath himself and his counterpart grew less prone to quakes, the knowledge of what he’d done was unshakeable. she’d never be able to see him in another light. no more of those rose tinted glances. only stark, filterless reality. she needn’t know the whole truth to understand he was never what ingen claimed.

      having carved a lopsided möbius into the snow, fett contemplated retreat. let those who put stock in festivities have them while he returned to his cabin and the scaffolding of work he wouldn’t let wait another day. repugnant mulling was as far as the man got with that miserable idea. he asked tano to meet him. whether or not she obliged him, he would wait. apathetic to the alpine freeze till every light in the house went dark.

      accumulative strides surrendered to the chokehold of frustration. boba’s free hand clenched as he supported himself on the railing. flakes drifted in the purpling twilight. cedar supports creaked under the weight of his forearm as dark gaze turned glumly inward.

      a shift in lighting seized his pining. for a brief moment, the elated voices within crystalized, overtaking the heavy quiet of night nesting in the trees. munson’s shrill, calamitous, hyena barking pierced decibels above the rest before it was muffled into a respectable volume by the tampered click of a door.

      lips parted in mute awe. eyes round, glittering mirrors in the hoary glow. more hope spilled into that involuntary look than fett ever dared concede. fear that the interruption was wishful figment tapered hard edges timid. but no, no trick of the mind was ahsoka tano’s clear-cut figure. with nothing else to divide his attention, proximity became a sharp reminder of a flame yet doused.

      the weight cradled in his hands felt painfully inadequate.

      ❝ tano. ❞

a jurassic world christmas starter for @commandsir

[honorhunt]

𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓, unfurling the crush of indigo from the starlit field. off-shore winds perfumed by the salty tang of the pacific mingled with the ancient aromatics growing abundant on the island. lowing from nublar's verdant heart sang to the fading scatter of stars. the sauropods – a herd of the long-bodied apatosaurus and their towering cousins – beckoned the sun still slumbering before the horizon. an ancient tune that was not only heard but felt, deep in the hollow chambers of bone. few humans were conscious enough at this hour to bask in the primordial choir; but there was one who was already prepared to fight the coming day by the giants began their tune.

      the sky was still drenched purple when boba fett traded the sleepy inside of his houseboat for brisk open atmosphere of a jeep. he kept his abode docked on the northern face of the island, mt. sibo and a broad swath of jungle between his privacy and the rest of the park. it’d been one of his father’s favorite spots. so much so, that jango built a stilted bungalow nearby after boba inherited his childhood home.

      distance came at a price, one fett gladly paid every morning when he swung himself and his antiquated thermos behind the wheel of his unmarked jeep. the long winded drive to the opposite end of the island was more than a mere commute, it served as the contractor’s initial round across his territory. checking in on the health of his charges and spot any troubles that populated the landscape overnight.

      no radio accompanied fett on his winding journey through the jungle. he listened to the soundtrack of the island while soaking up the deceptive simplicity of his surroundings. there was endless wonder in driving by a contemporary traveler’s palm and pitanga on either side of a squat cycad, seventy-three million years out of place. little anomalies like that, impossible anywhere beyond ingen’s property line, were the poster child of nublar’s idiosyncratic ecology.

      time was at an impasse. while mankind might be pressured by schedules and dates, its passage went unmarked in the wilderness made for their enjoyment. nature’s commandments were confined to the world beyond the sea. here, archosaurs roamed the soil that once buried them. their avian descendants, once the primary fauna of the five deaths, cohabitated with their de-extinct kin. primeval laws that governed the boundaries of life and death need not apply.

      tight webs of canopy cracked open as boba’s jeep jostled over the treeline and into the rolling hills of the valley. axels squeaked as he tipped and dove the off-road slopes. tires kicked up dew-coated grass, scenting the air with a crisp, watery sweetness. the lid of the sun spilled further into the heavens, washing away the residual midnight with the colors of tropical milkweed.

      the unmarked jeep’s brakes ambled to a halt on the summit of a hillock. it fed into a gradual slope that flattened into an emerald savannah. boba hung out the side of his vehicle, an arm looped around the open-air frame. dark eyes squinted into the sunrise, rays of orange bathing him in the first pinpricks of daytime heat.

      at the bottom of the slope, lumbering towards the sparkling waters of a manmade lake, were the singers of the crepuscular opera. giant grey bodies, individualized by markings of navy and flushed mauve, pressed towards the sparkling waters. apatosaurus bellows were deep bodied gurgles like peaceful thunder. the brachiosaurus were more enigmatic with their terrestrial whalesong.

      boba spotted a brachi subadult sprinting towards the shore. on her rotunda legs, it was more of a majestic waddle, but for a beast her size it was enough to send shockwaves through the mantle. she splashed wholeheartedly into the lake, sending curtains of freshwater flailing to the sides. a pride of parasaurolophus balked, scampering away to avoid the aftermath of her joy. the subadult reared back on her haunches and sang to them, no doubt teasing her much smaller neighbors.

      nearly every population that frequented the lake this hour was accounted for except one. the itch of murphy’s law crawled up boba’s chest, but his concerns were quickly put to rest. fett heard their drumming before he saw them. gallimimus, their gracile legs a blur, poured through the natural alley parallel to his perch. he counted them off in batches. exact numbers were impossible, but his instincts were never wrong when it came to how many of the ornithomimids there should be. during the last stormy season, the population took a hit. lightning strikes claimed three juveniles in the ensuing panic. heavy rains loosened the soil, leaving a sad tale of broken legs and necks for seven of the fragile beasts. with the herd in recovery, boba’s already scrupulous paranoia twice as attentive.

      a mischievous honk drew his attention away from the watering hole to a pack of bipeds several meters from his jeep. a small group of juvenile gallimimus broke off from herd to romp the grasslands without adult fussing. they were on their way back to rejoin their elders, but one had taken an interest in fett's jeep. she was bold in her proximity, keeping the side of her face locked on his position as she plucked at a rear tire with her beak.

      fett recognized her. what the ingen white coats called her, he had yet to learn. disposition was moniker enough. she wasn't as skittish as her sisters despite growing at a slower rate. he'd call her pluckiness a napoleon complex, but there was an unmistakable sweetness to her nosy larks. she was the first to spot humans approaching and the last to be shooed away. each morning, she spied on fett from the safety of her flock. it seemed today she decided to take advantage of the distance between her curiosity and the pernickety adults.

      ❝ hey! ❞ the man barked. the gallimimus bleated, taking several steps back. she kept a giant eye on fett as she circled around, stopping several feet in front of him. her head twitched like a birds as she considered him, as if daring the lone primate to challenge her again.

      ❝ you pop it and i’ll use your hide to patch it. ❞ the herbivorous theropod continued to angle her narrow face, opening and closing her beak with soft clicks.

      she wasn’t impressed.

      with a thin lipped smirk, boba maintained eye contact as he reached for the horn. she squeaked, startled by the shrill sound, and sped towards her siblings. she paused midway to glance back at him before disappearing into her crowd.

      the remainder of his patrol was mercifully routine. the park’s biomes were in good health, temperaments lackadaisical as dawn sipped its way through the sky. a group of styracosaurus foraged beside the service road. clods of dirt hung from the front of their nasal horns as they scrapped the topsoil for earthen delights beneath. further down was nublar’s largest river. in less than a handful of hours, the waterway would fill with the clap of paddles fighting the current as human voices chattered excitedly. for now it was a trickling melody, soft but keen enough to be heard over the rumble of his jeep’s torque. invisible fencing made the river’s carnivorous residents excellent neighbors.

      lush banks were deceptively empty. the large piscivores, having caught their morning meals in the half-light, had retreated to shady undergrowth where they committed to the difficult task of lazing in the sun.

      a baryonyx lounged on the edge of her perimeter. forearms tucked against her chest, the spinosaurid had her long narrow snout, so reminiscent of her crocodile contemporaries, thrown back to exposing her scaly neck to solar rays. her sealed lids didn’t flinch as the jeep wrangler puttered across her trajectory. the simian and his fossil guzzling steed were unremarkable to such a content creature.

      main street was still rousing from its late night festivities when boba arrived at the backstage lot. fresh coffee grinds, industrial cleaners, and warming grills filtered over the high walls that separated guests from the park’s inner workings. a pungent concoction that sunk to the back of the throat and need to be scoured away by a slug of piping caffeine.

      thick rubber soles worn by countless hours on the move only just touched asphalt when fett heard his name from across the empty lot. he replaced the drained cap of his thermos with a reluctant twist as poe dameron half-jogged from a sidedoor.

      ❝ can’t imagine what business you have with me, dameron. ❞

      poe was undeterred by the deadpan greeting, ❝ good morning to you too. so, ❞ the experience manager clapped his hands together, ❝ i need a favor. ❞

      ❝ i’m busy. ❞

      ❝ aren’t we all, ❞ poe’s eyes dropped to the thermos. his expression puckered into pity, ❝ fett, what are you gonna let that thing go. look at it, it’s older than you and me. combined. don’t you have a collection of company tumblers like the rest of us? ❞

      ❝ i give them back. this works just fine. ❞

      ❝ fett, c’mon, you’re drinking lockjaw. how ‘bout i give you one of mine? you know, for helping me out. or i’ll do you one better: i’ll get you that new one they just got in at jurassic traders. looks like something spat out of an army surplus. real camp, straight from the ‘90s. right up your alley. ❞

      silence permeated. dameron sucked in his lips, waiting for at least something snide to breach the straight line of boba’s expression. nothing forthcoming, dameron mouthed a deferring okay and continued on.

      ❝ anyway, dillon, my, uh, new favorite trainee that i’m so glad claire gave to me, was supposed to help rey this morning. he, well, couldn’t make it. ❞ dameron ran his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted. ❝ kid took a sino to the family jewels yesterday and hasn’t been without an ice pack since. ❞

      ❝ and? your girl can handle younglings. ❞

      ❝ well, yeah, ❞ dameron agreed, twirling a hand, ❝ but the wannabe littlefoot has been going through this temper tantrum phase. one parasaur keeps yacking up breakfast. the aforementioned ceratops will not stop trying to punt people. and yesterday, little johnny got bucked into next sunday. his mom, not thrilled. lawyers were mentioned. i’d really, really, really like to avoid that today. ❞

      boba didn’t even blink.

      ❝ want me to beg? i’ll beg. in fact, i’ll get on my knees. make a whole damn scene. till everyone in the office has their nose to the windows. you want that, fett? some drama to go with your instant tetanus? ❞

      poe started to descend, not breaking eye contact with the other man.

      ❝ dameron. ❞ boba warned. poe immediately sprung back and clapped his colleague on the back.

      ❝ good man! ❞ the manager abruptly sped back to the door he emerged from, shouting over his shoulder, ❝ just keep an eye out for jewels. we’re running low on ice packs. ❞

      ❝ jewels? ❞ dark brows furrowed, fearing the answer.

      ❝ gonad the destroyer. ❞

      he wished he was surprised. ❝ you named her jewels. ❞

      poe threw up a hapless shrug as he disappeared beyond the door.

      the nursery that supplied the petting zoo with its attractions looked no different from the ones for bipedal children. white walls painted with colorful flowers and butterflies. puzzle piece floor mats in primary colors covered most of the floor. scattered plush of various sizes; some recognizable like a sorcerer mickey mouse whose blue wizard hat had seen better days. what betrayed the room’s intended toddlers were the kong brand dog toys made for the highest possible domesticated bite force and the safety measures tested to withstand 1360 kilos of prehistoric muscle.

      as fett expected, rey was at the heart of the romp of tiny titans. he could see her clearly through the window of the security door, hear her too despite the thick plating. she had a way with the prehistoric few could hope to replicate. even boba, who grew up alongside ingen’s creations, struggled to breach the gap of eons with the same charismatic ease. if owen grady had half a mind to let the girl near his raptors, fett suffered no doubt she’d have them mewling like kittens in a matter of hours.

      ❝ hive’s queenright, ❞ the quip came on the heels of the entry hissing shut. boba placed his thermos on the flat top of a half wall, out of reach of any stray tails or crests. his arrival wasn’t deemed worthy of interrupting playtime. the younglings crashed around their specialized barrack, fawning over their caretaker instead. only a single sinoceratops spared him more than a cursory glance.

      the ceratopsid was on the runt side. her footpads much too big in comparison to the rest of her growing bulk. proportions that made her gallop as graceful as a ragdoll. she bleated in boba’s direction and tripped over herself to face him. performing an imbalanced shiko, she lifted up a floppy foot and slapped it down in a warrior stance. the youngling lowered her head, kicked the royal blue foam several times, and charged — her trajectory, full speed into boba’s pelvic region.

      fett reacted quickly. one hand grabbed her nasal horn, the other secured her crest. gently, the man guided her momentum in a circle around him. with a temperamental honk, the sino came to a pouty halt.

                                        ❝ jewels. ❞

                  the ceratopsid retorted with a snort.

jurassic world starter for @graysistance

[honorhunt]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 still purple with a sun too frightened to set. a low, ghastly moan crawled from the indigo hills that embroidered the horizon, reaching across the seemingly endless flat of sunbaked clay. for miles the desert spread uninterrupted by man. undulating Ss in puddles of sand left behind by unnerved hunters escaping the air’s scarlet taste. long-eared silhouettes huddled in the sagebrush, their black noses twitching restlessly.

      mankind’s only foothold in acres of inhospitable desolation resembled the garrish flavor of its scarce clientele. a towering sign, crowned by a decapitated starburst, displayed a partial name. more than half the letters were gone, remembered only by faded scars too sunbleached to read from the ground. while the survivors spasmed in decades-long deathroes of neon glory. the parking lot look just as depleted. most of the cars parked haphazardly around imaginary lines had seen their heyday when the motel’s googie groove was the charismatic rage.

      the office was sad, the rooms sadder. interiors once boasting a doo wop palette all aged into an antagonistic puce. room numbers were scribbled with sharpie below the peephole on each cyan door. the bygones haunting the creaky walks and the empty pool had company tonight. bleary-eyed silhouettes in various states of undress huddled outside their rooms, drawn from their twenty-a-night caves by the low of indescribable torture. even the front desk with her pilling orange concealer stood gaping, frozen to a half-open door, more awake than she’d ever been in her twenty years of graveyard shifts.

      boba fett was alone in his lack of resemblance to a plastic deer. propped between the hood and the door, boba was a satellite stationed in the dreary parking lot, gauging the mysterious howl. distortion rendered it unrecognizable. even for a man who spent his life listening to preternatural animals sing. regardless, a local who’d probably witnessed more than a fair share of strange resembled an owl shivering in the evening heat. that was more than enough to suspect a revenant was out there in the shimmering distance.

      without a word to the girl riding shotgun, boba retrieved the rifle behind his seat and refilled the few bullets missing from his utility belt. two pistols joined his on-hand armory along with a thirty centimeter bowie knife to accompany the smaller drop point forever on his person.

      as a loaded a custom shotgun, pulled from a massive lockbox stored under the narrow backseats, fett finally acknowledged his passenger. not with eyes that were fixed to the lethal tools passing through his hands, but with an order. ❝ get that inside, ❞ a jog of his chin motioned the collective of fast food bags meant for the gaggle of mouths left behind while he and the youngest of the bunch went hunting for the closest town. ❝ and get munson out here. ❞

      fett didn’t wait for maxine to reply. he tossed her the keys, slammed the door, cutting off any unnecessary commentary when his instructions were clear, and expected the results to follow him across the lot momentarily.

      he on the edge of the property glaring at the dark blue peaks. the howling continued, growing longer and more mournful with each cry. a shuffle of movement in his peripherals drew a sliding glower to a bald man in a towel fumbling with the keys to a prehistoric sedan. the man rummaged for a moment before he noticed his audience. like a hairless prairie dog, his back straightened as he returned boba’s stolid stare with a boggled imitation.

      ❝ you know what that is? ❞ fett nodded in the direction of the mountains. the bald head shook, water drops shaking from pufferfish cheeks. ❝ then you better get inside. ❞ nothing more needed to be said. what little color the bald man had in his face flushed away, leaving a waxy pallor. the bald man closed the driver side door and nearly lost his towel when he tried to walk away. it took several panicked attempts to free himself from the door before waddling in retreat to his room.

      hmph, was fett’s lukewarm response. not long after another set of steps approached from behind. these sounded more purposeful, and he almost held out the shotgun when he realised there was a girl-shaped mutiny afoot.

                        ❝ i said munson, not mayfield. ❞

a desert motel, one ghost shy of abandoned for @godsdeal

[honorhunt]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 left greasy streaks on the verdant planes of his armor. it turned congealed a gruesome sludge of blood and brain matter that stubbornly hugged the contours of imperfect beskar. in one gloved hand was a blade slick with water and tar-thick blood while the other clutched a makeshift sack fashioned from embroidered fabric, a growing stain that matched the gore on the blade.

      the armored figure reeked of rigor as he marched beneath neon halos that staggered in the downpour. anything could be found beyond the seedy doorways that marked his progress: food, salvaged parts, questionably aquired weapons, a lukewarm bed made tolerable by a good time. the figure didn't bother with any of the beckoning signs nor did he spare any acknowledgment for the bystanders who dared to lift their heads from the ground in risky curiosity. beneath the cold face of the helm, a map of the district covered the viewplate. a dot representing the figure blipped at his pace, navigating him towards a hole-in-the-wall named for its trandoshan proprietor.

      cid. not a being the figure knew personally, but the lizard had done work for jabba and was held in a rare state of regard by the hutt's majordomo. the trandoshan was the permanent broker for a band of no-name bounty hunters who did a solid job concerning one of jabba's pets. which of the crime lord's many grotesque carbuncles didn't matter. any form of praise from the fetid lips of bib fortuna, no matter how dismissive, was enough to draw in the walking weapon.

      the helmet's navigation alerted the figure to his impending arrival. he switched the feed to an infrared scan that picked out several shapes within the bowels of the cantina. he stood just off to the side of the entrance, mining away at the speculative interior. his gear couldn't penetrate very deeply, just the foyer and several branching rooms. there were hints of more, deeper levels that his rangefinder couldn't penetrate.

      the trandoshan was smart. she decked her inner sanctum with defenses that countered the slickest tools of the criminal trade. even one as rare as the highly specialized augments known only to mandalorian sets.

      with a slightly expanded well of information, the hunter entered the cantina. his footfalls echoed as he descended the narrow passage into the foyer. it was dark inside the parlor except for the fluorescent backdrop of the bar and the gambling stations lined up against the wall.

      business was apparently slow. there were no other patrons aside from a weequay seated on a curved couch, his tapered shoulders watching over the cantina's sole entrance. the weequay turned, instinctively intrigued by the stranger's abrupt appearance. the remains of a multicolored snack scattered over the scrawny scoundrel's lipless mouth continued to chew. wisely, the weequay looked away. he hunkered down even lower, feeling the phlegmatic t-shaped stare boring into his back.

      the steel face continued to stare well past the point of discomfort. only when the weequay squirmed himself into the cushioning did the dangerous arrival relinquish his hold. the outsider stalked towards a far-end table, his motionless head taking stock of every possible exit or entry for trouble. before he sat with his back secured against the wall, the narrow face scanned the inside of the structure for any traps that might lurk in the hidden wiring.

      satisfied, the figure retracted the dripping blade into his wrist-gauntlet like nexu's claw and settled on the edge of the chair. with no sign of the scaly proprietor, the figure lapsed into an unnatural stillness, gloved fingers tightening around his dark-soaked prize.

@vagasbonds — kanaloa by scntfc

[honorhunt]

𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 flowed with violent grace in the rays of the first brother’s golden yawn. interwoven threads desatured by triumphs past were tinted by the light, greedily quaffing the waking hues. beneath the windswept mane, fennec shand wore deep ravines of pride around her mouth and the wings of her eyes. she’d situated her back against a rock formation that she could ease her entire weight against and observe the expanse that stretched out from the cusp of the palace grounds.

      it felt good to have the coolness of sleeping stone behind her as the sunlight warmed obedience back into her bones.others joined her on the plateau that overlooked the b’omarr monastery. two rodians watched from an edge, their backs to the rising suns to chase away the indigo chill that still clamped down on their muscles like a vise. their enormous spherical eyes dappled with sleep blinked expectantly towards the center of the natural arena. gamorreans chose a more robust vantage point. expected by most in the galaxy to be a brutish collective of simpletons, there was a patient curiosity in the black beads beneath their staunch green brows.

      even those who did not make the journey up the cliffside found ways to observe what was to come. the monastery's ziggurat now hosted several onlookers. they nestled close together, the quickening hot winds had yet to sink past the midnight chill.

      but happiest of all was the gathering of younglings clinging in a row of fingers to the ledge of the plateau. they stood on their toes on the tiers of rockface, chittering excitedly in huttese. a mix of faces – humanoid and distant – belonging to those who served in the syndicate or orphaned by its rivalries. it didn’t matter their origin, the children of the palace clustered together, shuffling the smaller of the lot onto necessary shoulders to see the titans clash.

      one side of the arena boosted the mysterious newcomer. a stranger to the dune sea, she held herself with endemic prowess against the blistering landscape. opposite of her was a king with a crown of cinder, his green armor battered by the sieges of a lifetime that dared little of platitude.

      beneath a narrow gaze of data and steel, the old hunter regarded his counter with a convinced smile. ❝ the suns are out, ❞ the gruff modulation announced, ❝ let us see who burns brighter. ❞

@graysistance — morning window by bvsmv

[honorhunt]

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒. every bead of light that slipped past the leaves was snatched by another sylvan limb. night was pungent here, rich with dark earth and murmurs of dew yet to settle. a current traveling down from misty fortresses was all that dared stirr between the hollows and the rills. no beast of sound mind crept through this solid black. it would be hours after dawn yawned over the greater wilderlands that sunbeams finally penetrated the deep shadows of woodland mire. and yet a mannish creature picked his way across the moss beds wishing those cavernous shadows were deeper still.

      the eyes of his enemies were notoriously sharp and could mask themselves in the eddies of blackened green like a strand of silk on a spider’s weave. beads of sweat hung around his neck like a noose. he was tempted to reach into the grain sack battering his hip and retrieve the helmet hidden in the rough folds. his fingers twitched with need but the boy threaded them into his palms. to wear a face of beskar would invite death quicker than a drawn sword in this shallow grave.

      three years. three long years were sown into his memories yet boba fett moved diligently forward. time did nothing to soften the steps his boots retraced. each delicate curve, every hard edged steel, every arrow that sunk into a visor he’d known since birth with a meaty and vicious pop. his father’s tight grip around his upper arm as the pair delved deep into the mud of a river’s bend. into tomb notched beneath curdled roots; even now, boba could feel the soil’s cold bite as his father stowed him away. that last brush of leather warmed by the living man beneath as jango caressed his son’s face one last time, dark curls snagged on a vambrace as the mand’alor dutifully pulled away.

      what followed haunted the quiet hours before the void of sleep claimed him and those lucid moments before returning to the world awake.

      but now jango’s son had returned. his journey vivid like scrying in a pool of fresh blood. only once or twice the boy stopped to gather his bearings between an oak and its brother. it’d been days since boba entered mirkwood’s wild gates, but he spared himself little rest. the boy couldn’t recall when last he slept. it was easy to lose track of time under the watch of branching sentinels but the wordless whisper of intuition bade only a few miles further till he was reunited with his king.

      the peak of boba’s spine prickled at a rustle. a stirring sound that tugged at the dryness of his throat. it lured his boots a short distance from his quarry. stygian waters glistened in the frail moonbeams. boba was a fair bit taller but he remembered how the depths sucked his legs into layers of spoiled earth as he pressed himself deep into the roots and away from the elves that sought him high and low.

      cautiously the shadowling crouched into a slide down the embankment and tipped himself back to avoid tumbling head first into the stream. a splish greeted his arrival as the shoreline beneath his toes crumbled under his weight. a quick adjustment and the young fett was balanced on his haunches.

      the surface settled from his sudden intrusion to reveal a complete stranger. the bottom of his throat caught the crown of his heart’s leap till he realized the cheeks carved lean by hunger were his. uruks had no need for preening and cad was the proud owner of a mirror twisted into tiny pieces. boba raised a hand to a sallow cheek. he recognized the feeling but not the sight.

      once hailed a spitting image of his father, the years salvaged nothing of jango’s kind face.

      a claminess torched his throat. the boy swallowed, shutting his eyes and splashing his face with a crisp reminder of his purpose. boba washed the salt from his face then drowned the threat of bile creeping onto his tongue. his reflection churned as he continued to douse himself, accepting that to do so would invite a nasty chill.

      boba pressed his cool fingers onto the back of his neck. his eyes found reprieve in the unfocused moment, calming the burn of many hours straining in the gloom. fractals of his face pieced themselves togethers as the obsidian mirror calmed. droplets ran down his nose as the stranger reformed before him in dim silver threads loose in the deciduous tapestry above. one silhouette had yet to return to its proper place. it perched on the precipice of his shoulder. his brow creased.

      that outline was not his.

      the young easterling massaged his neck, listening to the rhythmic fall of water from his temples while his free hand closed the distance on the hilt of a pugnacious blade.

@commandsir​ — on crimson water by dead melodies   /   𝐬𝐜.

[honorhunt]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃'𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑 ❞ chaff gilded by a ruined smile as fett extended his offering of a clay-casted cup. fragrant steam rose from the pulpy mixture within. fett learned the recipe from gab'borah hise many moons ago. it required little moisture, needing only the juices from a sweet variety of mushroom that grew in vaporator excess. the concoction took on a naturally woody flavor. peppered with red salt from the jundland wastes, the drink made for a welcome companion against tatooine's severe misunderstanding of moderation.

      searing heat turned to burning cold when the suns finally relinquished their hold over the dune sea. structures built from the native stone innately retained the heat of the day, exuding the built-up energy during the bite of the night's windswept fangs. but the sun's residue struggled in wide chambers like the throne room. thus fett found himself fixing a fond evocation given to him by a man who existed now only in memory.

      fett leaned into the wall, arms crossed over his plated chest. fading heat tapped around the quadrants of imperfect beskar and into the pliable fabric of his new liner.

      din djarin was not a man in need of protecting, but his history left him far more sheltered than fett expected from a warrior sect. it squared off the edges of his earlier comment with a serrated premonition, leaving an ugly angle only the hunter could see.

      you're in over your head, boba fett's thoughts repeated unbidden for two of djarin's predecessors had lost theirs carrying that ancient title.

      ❝ what do you plan on doing with that little sword? ❞

@asmodcus / din djarin — the last laugh by eagle eyed tiger

[honorhunt]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒 against the formulaic walkways of coruscant's largest industrial district. the traffic flow hummed with heavy loads as bulky air speeders lumbered through closed-circuit passages that paralleled the shadowy retreat of a crouched figure. skin drained of color aside from the bites of cold that drew what blood still warmed his body to his cheeks. he did what he could to control the sniffling that threatened to overtake his sinuses and turn his chapped upper lip into a glistening mess.

      the figure ducked from heap to heap of commercial refuse that lined the rectangular alleyways. there were no windows on any of the buildings and no sign of any lifeforms lurking around the corners. no risk of eyes recognizing the filthy ochre jumpsuit that clung like a wet rag to his rail-thin body and alerting the men who paraded around with a familiar face beneath their mocking helmets.

      boba fett was no longer recognizable. not as a clone of jango. the boy's features were too carved now, narrowed by legal assumption he belonged with violent men twice his age. a brow pronounced by rage, lips permanently swollen from constant brawling, papery skin sallowed by artificial light. even his eyes shifted uneasily in the natural day, unaccustomed to the intensity of sunlight even when filtered by a dome of grey.

      his alleyway came to a dour end, joining up with an open stretch of thoroughfare that allowed for low-bearing vehicles and swaths of laborers during operating hours, but the wet spell dawn and only just touched the horizons of the ecumenopolis giving boba a limited time to figure out where he was going before the workforce poured in from the residential sectors to win their daily scraps. so far the boy just pressed forward. he and bossk were forced to split during the riot. boba's stature for once proved an asset when eluding the task force assigned to butcher retaliating prisoners. neither the trandoshan or his human charge expected their incitement to end in such chaos. meaning boba had no idea how he'd find bossk or if the other bounty hunter even made it out of the detention center alive.

      all boba could do was move for moving's sake and hope that all roads in coruscant lead to its rotting innards. once in familiar territory, boba would feel safe enough to figure out a plan. maybe find his way to tiggs leo's bar. the volpai was familiar enough that boba was willing to risk a stop. once there he'd figure out bossk's fate and get off-world, trandoshan or not.

      a good plan that hinged on the assumption that the boy could even find a turbo down. damn how he missed his father's helmet and its built-in database.

      boba involuntarily shuddered. his core wasn't used to battling the elements and the detention center's uniform wasn't made for life on the outside. the boy gave himself a moment to ring out the hems of ankles as he rolled them up into tight folds just below his calves. boba ignored the threat of a shiver as he leaned out of the alley, narrow eyes scanning the street as thoroughly as a rangefinder.

      a sharp intake of air and he was off. water hissed in his wake as boba bolted across the thoroughfare. oval droplets pummeled his bare head like tiny hammers as he cleared the main width and slid into the opposing alley just as a brand-marked transport speeder bumbled by.

      the refugee growled. the slide had been a brash ploy. now the entire length of his right leg stung with duracrete burn. boba peeled himself off the ground like a scab and hobbled for a few cantankerous steps before his annoyance got the better of his pain.

      no stopping. it was safer to assume that the driver had seen him and was already informing others that one of the participants of the latest headline was nearby. no, he had to keep going. surely there was a way down. acrid-smelling factories favored cheaply satisfied lower-level denizens, there had to be an access portal somewhere.

      boba took a moment to glance over his shoulder to check for any curious onlookers as he scurried into a cross-section —

      straight into a white plastoid chest.

      the impact pushed boba back. startled, the refugee caught himself on his wounded leg. a spike of pressurized pain jolted exposed nerves on grated skin. chapped lips lanced by a fanged sneer as boba fett glared into a t-shaped gaze outlined by blocks of red.

      ❝ what do we have here? ❞ said the stolen valor of his father's voice.

      from his peripherals boba found the clone's blaster. it was knitted closely to the trooper's chest, secured by two armored hands that would not relinquish the weapon easily. boba swallowed the knot in his throat. no matter what came next jango's son would never again be their captive. the cage of the grave was a far more wholesome thought than a cell sanctioned by his father's killers.

@kyberled — chillwave ambient by spacewave

[honorhunt]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐃 . . .

            solace in shifts of blue. it brushed the cabin's steel walls in faded waves like the tide against grey sands. brilliant beacons scattered across the controls like stars couldn't outshine the dim grain clustered on the arm of the captain's chair. the majesty of the celestial bodies beyond the viewport couldn't compete with the somber pride that defined the battered face of the bounty hunter jango fett.

                      . . . even a parent's love.

            six years. six long years since the notorious hunter from concord dawn sat at the helm of slave i. in his stead sat the boy who buried him, summoning the hollow ghost whenever the orphan was in need of his protector.

            his father's final message still stung but the ache was worth the company. quiet moments were occupied by a dead man's guidance whenever the young boba fett could spare the focus. like now with his inheritance square on his lap. strips of old cloth and a dispenser of simple soap were strewn around the base of his chair. in small circular motions, with the occasional scratch from his nail, boba plucked at patches of grime as he listened to the flickering replica.

            that is the way. follow this way and you will be a great bounty hunter. the dead man smiled. a tug at the crook of his lips as his dark eyes beamed with distant heartache, i was sure of it when i was alive, and i am sure of it still.

            boba stopped scrubbing and looked up. this part never failed to bleed stone.

            remember me, boba. remember that i love you —

            was there a hitch in the graphics? why did his father's eyes look so bleary?

                             my son.

let me know when it’s time to come back. — @commandsir / breakup playlist.

            a nimble arm snapped to the projector and dismissed the staggered holo before gently depositing it into a nearby compartment.

            "decent!" boba called out with joking shrillness as he scraped the tears from his cheeks. he cleared his throat and disguised it with scoff, "c'mon, stripes, i told you i was just cleaning my gear. i'm not stripping that much."

[honorhunt]

            the dogma of tatooine. days under the brothers cooked the skin and boiled the marrow. bones bleached within hours and splintered like firewood beneath the rays. even the moon cared little for mercy. molten noons became icy midnights. the indigo sands guzzled the heat like succulent water. exposed skin turned blue and ruddy. lips peeled like pustulent burns, eyes dried into blurry sores.

            but it was home. as close as a planet ever got. it'd never been the intent to keep returning to such a harsh place. yet every time the bounty hunter trekked across the stars, slave i found her way back to the dunes.

            so felucian nights were a lackluster adventure for a man so used to sand. but boba fett was ever adaptable, even at such a frank age. he picked his way across the too-yielding earth. he cut through the curtain of humidity that clung to the thick bodies of fungal trees. a watery mantle sunk into the micro spaces between his beskar plates armor and energy-threaded bodysuit. just to spite the offending moisture, the old hunter kept his gait easy and loose as thick walls of mud popped like slabs of wagging tongues beneath his boots.

            ❝ the emperor's little purge didn't work so well, ❞ no venom. no heat. just an easy tone that a rare few heard from the unrelenting face of the fett's, ❝ there's lots of you still running around — ❞

            ❝ like rats. ❞

@theyeardecembered��, intercepted by alana ya’qul

[honorhunt]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄, boba fett ruled the sands seared by twin celestials, yet it weighed him down in a mire of many years in the making. seven centuries of wisdom and avarice were buried in the walls that encompassed his hardwon power. once a monastery, then a palace, now every inch his tomb.

      the air here was thick with memories, too many for his helmet’s filter to sift through. fond and bloody, life in the desilijic court was a series of holochess matches. every lifeform was holo on the board. every round declared boba fett the victorious set of teeth. underworld wisdom was an ugly perversion of its core world cousin; it was best to ignore the inevitable mischance that hid itself fett’s shadow for only a terminal fool would bid against the great hutt’s favorite pup.

      b’omarr monks dedicated so sincerely to the pursuit of unbiased truth that they violently discarded their mortal shells in favor of unbeautiful bodies of steel. boba spent the last shreds of boyhood innocence in the echoes of their labors as alongside a kitchen girl who got him out of trouble as often as she dragged him into it. he raised himself to be pitted against men three times his age with twice his experience. the fett name was once synonymous with ruthless civility, but in jabba’s nest it became a genus of a beast that only spoke when the hunt squirmed between its teeth.

      dutiful verdancy marbled by the motes of morning. shifting rays created the illusion of movement as dark eyes sheltered within roamed the alcoves of the throne room. though it was stripped of the instruments of jabba’s hedonism, there were crippled reminders scattered around the dias. a broken anchor where the slug kept his pet of the week chained. back corners piled high with spoils in need of sorting were still stained with the vestiges of spice adling. a grated arena stained with the screams of dancers and traitors, untouched yet transformed into a new friend’s domain.

      a newly familiar voice warbled in his sensors. his visor displayed the owner’s face, one he was already certain he’d recognize without the aid of an extensive internal databank. boba inclined his armored head, not towards the voice but the woman reclined on his right. an mk rifle slept peacefully on her lap as she rocked her propped heels atop a plasteel container.

      ❝ din’s friend decided to stay, ❞ fennec explained with a diplomatic smirk.

      words that would’ve been welcome just days before now rattled like chains against his eardrums. an impatient hiss escaped the narrow mouth of the daimyo’s mandalorian face, ❝ just what i need, another politician. ❞

      brows upended into skeptical bow. ❝ someone crawled out of the wrong side carkoon this morning. want me to fish vanth out of the tank so you can go for a swim? ❞ her gaze trailed him as fett abandoned the dias to pace the trap door’s perimeter. a low moan and the tip of a massive claw greeted the clang of boba’s boots. he murmured something in fett code to the behemoth who chuffed amicably in return.

      gritty silence crackled through the helmet’s modulator as fennec drilled a wordless warning into the crest of boba’s spine.

      ❝ it’s amelia, isn’t it? ❞ boba didn’t look away from the pair of glittering eyes peering curiously from the darkness below.

      where fett’s voice was flat, fennec pivoted her tone to the tilt of her own displeasure, ❝ so you remembered. or did your helmet tell you? ❞

      the reflection on his visor slipped, ❝ i have a knack for names that begin with aurek. ❞

      fennec softened. the hollows of her cheeks churned words but she kept them caged behind a row of teeth. a considerable quiet settled between them solidifying into a loquacious miasma. the woman’s lips parted as her tongue needled the inside of her mouth. it looked as if she were about to speak when her tongue was yanked from under her thoughts as it became apparent they were not alone.

@snowinabottle — aurora by ivemduv   /   𝐬𝐜.

[honorhunt]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄. a familiar pressure that squeezed the sides of his skull and pinned the young bounty hunter to the grated catwalk. the schematics of his situation filtered in a static haze across the narrow plate of his visor. despite the pounding in his chest and the blood drumming in his ears, his breathing remained an unbroken rhythm. steady. never once betraying the nerves that entwined with anxiety verging on the fritz.

      death was stalking him again. it took a familiar shape, one of metal sheets curved like a cobra's crown around a giant body of writhing structures that could only pass as limbs when disguised. but the mass of hatred scouring the jungle bush somewhere beyond the capabilities of his tech was only one of many monsters that carved out the young fett's experience. trophies of ruined skin crisscrossed his back and arms, punctures covered by ripples of pink-toned layers all from beings far more dangerous than the likes of his current foe.

      fett was only twelve, but that was twelve years of making it out alive.

      so much for simple. fett's inner voice spat the last word with such venom as he rembered bossk's dismissive tone as the trandoshan relayed the client's details into his compatriot's credit-hungry radars.

      ❝ the only trouble we'll find is a separatist outpost. but it's manned by a bunch of battle droids. nothing we can't handle. we grab the merchandise and get out. simple as that. ❞ the lizard promised —

      and boba felt like an idiot for humoring that belief for a second.

      the merch was a guest here, a very important guest. one hosted by tyranus himself and was well protected. resistance was expected.

      what the syndicate did not expect was for that resistance to be a hulking gen'dai.

      durge.

      cries of avian lifeforms careened overhead, turning the canopy into an eerie swath of punctured darkness. boba slid across the grates on his belly, easing himself through the shadows of crates and trees as he recalled the exit he decided was the closest during a preliminary scan.

      the feed on his viewplate was glitched. he missed the smooth transitioning auxiliaries of his father's as boba deciphered what the broken aurebesh was telling him. some of the letters were flawed, coercing him to compensate with context clues. precious milliseconds wasted, vital information possibly sacrificed to guessing gods. it had yet to get him killed, but the bred paranoia of a fett didn't doubt that his protection could spell his doom.

      there. swiping through the midsection of tiered foliage diagonal to his right shoulder. he could just make out a silhouette in the gloom. boba switched his ocular settings to infrared. the adjustment period was dangerous as the helmet's ability to manifest clarity fizzled for several damning seconds before it stabilized.

      durge's enormous girth dwarfed the trunk of the tree the gen'dai was currently raking his fists across in anger. ❝ coward! stop hiding and fight, little mandalorian. you waste my time. ❞ it was a hideous voice that curdled blood with stints of rotting cold. the hairs on boba's neck rose as he froze mid-crawl. there was nothing nearby to disguise his body heat so he made himself as small as possible as the gen'dai continued to bellow, ❝ i'm tired of killing clones. i need something closer to the heart i wanted to rip from its cage. ❞

      fingers pressed into the leather palm of his gloves as chapped lips curled. boba wanted to shoot back a verbal retort but that was exactly what the stupid brute wanted. what boba needed to do was get out of durge's visual range and rendezvous with hound's tooth. the boy managed to alert his colleagues to the danger but immediately disengaged his comlink, fearing durge intercepting any incoming communications.

      tracking the bigger bounty hunter's path of destruction, boba continued his slow descent from the makeshift rampart. he kept his breathing steady, ignoring the tremble in his muscles as he carried himself in near suspension down the ramshackle stairs.

      boba stifled the threatening clinks of his backward steps as he descended the steps like a ladder. quieter than the wind, the boy was nearly halfway down when his audio receptors hissed. he paused, staring between the gaps in the steps, not daring to move.

      what was that? his eyes narrowed as he tried to pick something familiar out of the static.

      nothing.

      he waited a moment before continuing again just as his helmet caught another hiss this time with more clarity. it was less breathy this time and more metallic, leaning towards a tiny screech from the rusted joints holding the bulwark together. that's when he felt the slight give beneath his hands.

      fierfek! boba growled something even more obscene beneath his breath as he tried to push himself free of the stairway just as the pathetic structure collapsed beneath him. unable to clear it in time, boba's legs were caught by a jumble of railing.

      the boy's heart stopped as his body tumbled in slow motion to the ground. he hit the pliable earth with a wet thud congealed by a painful intake of air as a solid beam creased the small of his back. boba blinked through the pain and shot into an upright position. but it was too late. a towering shadow darker than any tree already swallowed the entirety of his figure. boba snarled as his eyes traveled from the boots to the slitted eyes of the count's pet gen'dai.

      ❝ not as bright as your progenitor, ❞ mocked durge's inhuman gravel, ❝ but i have plans for you, little fett, till the day you look like him. ❞

      a meaty hand shot out, reaching for boba's head. the smaller bounty hunter leaned back and grabbed hold of a rail. quick as a viper, boba parried the gen'dai's attack. metal snapped against metal, winning the young bounty hunter a fraction of reprieve. nimble limbs slid beneath him into a crouched position as he retaliated against another of durge's fist.

      durge turned his violence on boba's makeshift melee and twisted the metal till it snapped. he then took hold of the boy's arm and jerked the scrawny limb into an unnatural angle. boba yelped as the rail was forced from his hand that he immediately caught with the other. the young fett slammed the jagged end through the gen'dai's arm. ichor spurted from the edges of the wound as the bounty hunter was forced to release his captive.

      with a furious howl, durge ripped the bar from his arm. ribbons of worm-like muscle sloughed free of the opening, coated in foul-smelling blood. molten eyes glowered from their beady tombs in his helm as he scoured for the offending child.

      but boba was gone. a small, blinking figure zipping through the lopsided gaps between trees. a nexus of rotting branches were the only means of escape as he fled down trails his nemesis' girth could not traverse. splinters of sodden wood broke off under the veiled thunder of boba's retreat. his optics struggled against the dark as only half the viewplate managed to properly adjust to the sequestered lighting. one false step and the jango's son would be swallowed by a darkness deeper than the grave. but a bottomless unknown was preferable to the devouring rage that shook the trees behind him. so boba forged forward at a seemingly reckless pace, trusting his legs to carry him to more manageable danger as he craved the phantom z-6 on his back.

@viperofmandalore — blood by the neon droid