Topic: Boba Fett vs Predator:...Natural Selection....

Ok here it is let me know what you think!!!

    Boba Fett vs. Predator: Natural Selection

    It was hot. Not that it wasn’t near-sweltering virtually every double sun drenched day on the desolate desert of a planet named Tatooine.  This particular Outer Rim world usually had ultra-warm weather, but today seemed extra muggy, especially for this time of year.  As the gray haired man who called himself Jaster Mereel stepped outside his well furnished yet isolated home, he wiped the damp sweat from his brow while he estimated that the thick dark clouds forming could be the reason for this peculiar humidity. 
    Not the almost routine occurrence of sandstorms, but an anomaly of Tatooine days….rain.  “Well, we better cover up the moisture farm Slave I,” Mereel said to his modified protocol assassin droid that was once upon a time a dark forest green.  These days, he could barely tell the original color with how much dust, dirt and grim had accumulated all over the droid’s blaster-proof durasteel frame.  “As you wish sir”, the droid replied as it scurried off to prepare for the inevitable rain.  Slave I was actually only a small CPU disk unit that could be inserted into the robot’s head.  Its real computing power was invested in co-piloting the starship Slave IV with its owner to help navigate through the universe.  But, come to think about it, they hadn’t been outside this dust bowl of a planet in what seemed like years….or wait… maybe it really had been years. 
    Mereel leisurely strolled back towards his house.  He walked with a small limp, barely noticeable to any common being, but he felt a slight pain in his hip with almost every aching step because of many previous reconstructive surgeries.  Just as the man was about to cross the threshold of his home, a loud swoosh caught his attention back from the front yard area.  Mereel glanced up and even through the overcast sky he caught a view of the downward spiral of what looked like a missile and it was coming straight his way! “Fire in the hole!!” the older man blurted out, realizing there was nobody around but himself and his dirty protocol droid, but, none the less, that was really his only friend, if you could call it that.  With surprising agility Mareel sprinted toward the droid and leapt at it right as the descending projectile hit the ground.  A loud thud came and then a splash of sand covered the motley pair as they lay face first on the dry land.  “Thanks for the concern sir, but it’s only a message carrier.” The now even dirtier droid stated.  “I knew that” Mereel sneered.  “I was just seeing if I could still run.”  He lied, but thinking about it, he had surprised himself with how quickly he jumped to shield his favorite assassin droid.  “Who knows I’m here anyways?”  Dusting himself off, Mereel made his way to the device now sticking up out of the hot sand.

TO:  Jaster Mereel a.k.a. B.F.
FROM:  Alastair Covington (Chief Security Officer)

    The inset screen flickered to the blue and gold Weyland/ Yutani Industries logo and then changed to a small box with a thin red line in it that methodically moved up and down.  “Fingerprint verification please.”  A feminine robotic voice said coming from the rocket looking object protruding from the ground.  Mereel ducked down immediately and scanned the entire vicinity from side to side like a cornered animal.  He knew what B.F. meant, but, nobody was else was suppose to know where he was.  Mereel thought to himself……Boba Fett. 
The name Fett represented a faceless enforcer, with his distinctive Mandalorian battle armor that struck fear in the hearts of fugitives and free-men alike. The invincible Boba Fett was known as a legendary bounty hunter, accepting warrants from the former Empire’s Darth Vader as well as the iniquitous Huttese gangster, Jabba the Hutt.  Many other villainous underworld kingpins as well as legitimate businesses around the recognized universe used Fett’s services, despite his sometimes outrageous job-fees.  Even the devious Falleen Prince of the Black Sun criminal organization, Xizor, was known to employ the poisonous Fett from time to time.  The mighty Boba Fett was all business, and as long as they had the credits, the bounty hunter was deadly efficient too.  Mereel knew this because most of this civilized galaxy did as well.
Satisfied he was still alone and not being watched; the graying man pressed his thumb against the white box on the screen and waited a brief second.  “Thank you” the voice said and with a chirp of approval the device ejected a small shoebox size cube to the ground.  The missile then efficiently imploded into a dust that blew away in the light breeze.  Mereel collected the remaining box just as the rain started to fall.  He and the droid quickly finished covering the moisture farm equipment and then hustled back to his extravagant villa.  By the time they got inside the precipitation had started coming down pretty hard and the Slave I droid almost looked halfway clean after its brief rain shower. 
Mereel took off his wet Mandalorian camouflaged duster jacket and tossed it over the back of one of his two vintage Ylesia Forest wood bar stools and set the unique box down on the coffee table.  “Who’s it from sir?” Questioned the droid.  “Someone in the Weyland/Yutani Corporation identified as….Alastair Covington” sounding the name out as if trying to make it spark something in his razor-sharp mind. “The name’s not familiar, even though I have done a few jobs for the company in the past, but…, that’s been over ten years now and I haven’t the slightest clue how they could have found me now.”  Old man Mereel realized that he hadn’t been called Boba Fett in almost four years.  That was last time the bounty hunter had been out on the prowl.  It was a personal vendetta with the now famous General, Han Solo, who had eluded Fett’s grasp for too many years.  It all ended in good old Corellian stand-off on the planet Jubilar with the two aging icons holding fully charged blasters pointed right at each other’s gut.  Neither of them desired to pull the trigger that day and they decided together, the universe was a better place with both of them in it, alive. 
That was basically the last time Mereel had worn the famous Mandalorian battle helmet and armor to been known as the notorious bounty hunter Boba Fett.  After that fateful encounter with his arch-nemesis, Fett made the logical decision to return to the planet Tatooine where he had almost died once and actually live life for once, under a different name of course.  Nearly four years after looking down that barrel of Han Solo’s blaster, his peaceful life may now be in jeopardy, Fett thought as he examined the cube shaped thing sitting on his traditional glass coffee table.  With no obvious way to open it or any visible buttons, he placed it back down on the table. 
Exhaling, Fett leaned back on his sofa and just his back hit the soft cushion of the couch behind him, a small hologram shimmered to life as it was projected from the cube.  Even with the blue tint of the projection, Fett made out the figure of a young man dressed in a well-tailored business suit standing confidently.  “Hello Mr. Mereel……or should I say……. Mr. Fett.”  The image of the young man said slyly.  “My name is Alastair Covington, Chief Security Officer of the Weyland/Yutani Deep Exploration Division.”  “I know you have been lying low for quite some time now….and… with your very impressive past, well…, let’s just say…, nobody else in the entire universe should deserve a vacation more than yourself.”  Saying it with the suave of a life an insurance salesmen, he continued.  “But are you still the best?”  “Maybe for the right price we could entice you to one last job, a grand finale of greatness if you will?”  Fett was less than flattered, but continued to listen.  “Truth is Fett,” the young mans voice suddenly getting very sincere, “we really need your expertise on this mission and the company’s willing to pay more than you could have ever made on any single bounty in your whole illustrious career, …they promise.”  “We’ll be sending a representative to meet you soon, thank you for your assistance Mr. Mereel.”

With that the projection faded and Fett closed his eyes to think about what had just happened.  “Will we be going on a new mission sir?”  Slave I said, breaking the silence after a few moments.  “I’m not sure yet, we’ll have to see what this representative has to say.”  Standing up and walking to the window to look out at the pounding storm, Fett reflected about his recent time on Tatooine.  Yes, he had enjoyed relaxing on this backwater planet for these past few years but, on the same token, he still yearned for the thrill of the hunt. 
    Stalking your prey and utilizing fear to intimidate your adversary into submission, Fett was the best and he missed that unmatchable feeling of the catch.  Thinking about all this brought a crooked smirk to his wrinkled face.  Looking out into the torrential downpour, Fett noticed a sleek silver limo-speeder coming down the curvy road way to his home.  “That was quick” he said out loud. Even through the heavy rain the luxurious vehicle moved towards the front yard as if it had a purpose, gliding rather swiftly.  Slowing to a stop, the craft came to rest directly in line with the front door.  As the thick droplets of rain continued to fall, Fett watched intently as the back door slowly opened and a set of combat boots hit the wet sand.
    Surprised, Fett could see the figure emerging from the car was a human female.  She was about the same age as Fett, but this was obviously no ordinary woman.  Even through the combat fatigues she wore, he could see that even for her age, this was a beautiful lady and lean yet muscular as well.  Fett opened the door for the woman right away and immediately noticed what looked like a lighting bolt marked on her forehead.  Fett tried not to make it seem like he was staring right at it but it wasn’t that easy. “Must be important for you to come all this way in a mess like this” Fett said while gesturing outside.  “Very important, that’s why we need you.”   Ã¢Â€ÂœMy name is Naguchi, Machiko Naguchi.” 
    “Nice to meet you” said Fett as they pleasantly shook hands.  “My name is Jaster Mereel, what brings you here on such a glorious afternoon?” saying it as he tried to look out the window.  Naguchi caught the sarcasm and gave him a look as if she was insulted.  “Look Fett, I know who you are”  “Why do you even bother trying to sell me that bantha fodder?”  “It seems with such a famous history, you would want embrace your name….not hide from it” Naguchi blurted out.  “Well, you know what they say…mo credits mo problems… truth is, I just like to keep things quiet these days” Fett said dryly.  “Who says that anymore and since when has a serious bounty hunter….like yourself…. wanted things quiet?”  Naguchi retorted.  Fett sat down on his expensive couch and asked Naguchi to join him in his lavish living room.  “Slave I, bring us some sim-herbal tea.”  “Ice?” The droid replied.  “Yea sure” yelled Fett.  “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, so……noticing she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring…Ms. Naguchi, why have you ventured to this beautiful planet and decided to talk to me?”  Naguchi contemplated for a moment  “Well…we couldn’t use the regular avenues of the Bounty Hunters Guild resources for this off the record mission…and……it’s a very long story but, the point is….you’re the best hunter of all time…….right?  And if you think you’re the best…well….this is your opportunity to prove it.”  After a slight hesitation Naguchi finished with “Plus Weyland/Yutani has offered fifty million credits for total completion of this mission.”  Fett’s eyes widened. 
    “Now, we would be splitting that four ways.”  Naguchi remarked as if she was asking a question.  After a short time Fett coolly supposed “If your company knows so much about me then you should know I only work alone.”  The Slave I droid maneuvered to set the drinks down on the coffee table.  “We figured you’d say that, so my team and I already agreed that you get a twenty mill cut and we’ll split the rest” Naguchi remarked.  “Ever worked alone for that much dough?” she added.  Fett then elegantly expressed his concern about working for the company at all in the first place.  Sure, it was a sizeable amount of money, but would it be worth the risk?  Especially considering all the vacation time that had added up here on Tatooine?  After another short pause Fett continued “all this talk about money and how to split it up with no hint as to what this mission is all about.”  “This may sound weird so I’m just gonna come out and say it” Naguchi said as she leaned up in her comfortable seat.  “There’s an alien race of predators that have lived off the interstellar map for centuries, traveling to different worlds and galaxies to slaughter worthy opponents for the sheer pleasure of the hunt and most importantly, trophies for their personal collections.”  “What type of trophies?” Fett asked.  “I have personally seen vast displays of hundreds of skulls and vertebrates from many different alien species from the whole universe, many I couldn’t even recognize” Naguchi responded.  “The most recognizable ones were that of humans” she added.  “These predators’ whole society and lifestyle is centered on the honor and glory of the hunt.”  “Sounds like a great time but, where do I come in” Fett said as he got up and walked back towards the window.  He looked out at the ongoing rain and then looked back as Naguchi answered. 
    “The predators all live by a strict code of rules and they won’t kill an unarmed or unworthy opponent.”  “At least that’s what I thought until a saw them specifically hunt human beings on the swamp planet of Bunda a decade back” Naguchi said looking away.  “Now I’ve learned that it’s only a rouge pack of these creatures that continuously pursue humans.”  Fett was somewhat interested as Naguchi kept talking.  “We’ve been tracking these guys for years and our information shows that what we think is the last group of them heading for the human planet of Concord Dawn  “I have history there“ Fett said breaking the silence after another long moment.

    The once great bounty hunter Boba Fett pressed a hidden button in his kitchen facility that opened up a secret elevator down to his extensive subterranean garage.  It was well furnished with a vast arsenal of different firearms and military-grade weaponry that could supply a small army if needed.  Each scatter pistol, laser scoped sniper rifle, and what looked like every killing utensil imaginable was perfectly displayed on solid reinforced permacrete walls.  Even his father’s famous Westar-34 side-arm blasters were prominently showcased amongst the other guns and combat items surrounding a sunken-in landing grid sector where his starship Slave IV and some other attractive looking vehicles sat at rest.  He looked longingly at his heavily modified firespray-class gunship and again thought about his violent history to this point.     
    When Boba was a child, Fett’s father, the universe’s first great bounty hunter, Jango Fett, was usually away on prolonged business ventures, but had taught his only son well in the ways of the professional bounty hunting trade.  The name Fett, to this day, carries with it a cold air of dread and fear, thanks to his dad.  To those with enough credits to hire him, the Fett title is synonymous with success.  To those with a reason to fear him, Fett means capture or death. The name and reputation are just two of the many things Boba inherited from his father, Jango, but the respect part was most important to him. In the final years of the Republic, Jango Fett was regarded as the ultimate hunter available.
    That was until poppa Jango’s untimely death at the murderous hands of the once fierce Jedi Master, Mace Windu.  After Jango's death, Boba picked up the pieces of his shattered life with the help of his little black book.  It was an encoded message unit written by Jango himself with detailed instructions for survival should Boba ever end up alone.   B. Fett didn’t think of his father as much as he used to, but he still held on to the small black book his dad had given to young Boba shortly before he was beheaded right in front of his traumatized son’s youthful eyes on the planet Geonosis.  Jango's battle-dented helmet bounced along the dusty ground of the Geonosian Arena, to be picked up by a stunned and newly orphaned Boba Fett.
    That unfortunate incident occurred in one of the first full-blown battles of the Clone Wars, which seemed like a million light-years ago now.  After the Battle of Geonosis, young Boba quietly buried his father's body and marked the grave with a simple J.F.   Fett already knew every wisdom-filled phrase in the book by heart, but he still looked at the family air loom from time to time for a little inspiration. 
    The electronic book was well hidden under a selection of thermal concussion grenades and Mandalorian flash bangs.  After retrieving and powering it up, the first phrase that popped up was “You can’t accomplish anything if you don’t try.”  “Being dead for such a long time still won’t stop dad from knowing just what to say at the perfect time “Fett said out loud to nobody. 
Earlier, he had told the pretty Asian lady that he was too old and out of shape to go on some wild-wookie chase after a random bunch of human killers.  She quickly pointed out that she was just as old as him and she was doing just fine.  Even though he declined, she still gave him the coordinates to where her and the team where staying in the nearby spaceport town of Mos Eisley.  She also said they were departing in two days to their destination on Concord Dawn, with or without him.  Truth was, he didn’t care about the money and deep down inside, the old bounty hunter still had the desire to hunt again.  He was the unsurpassed king of his trade and the Fett bloodline was ingrained with an uncanny ability and will to survive no matter the circumstance.  A trait often overlooked in his line of work where superior firepower was the predictable choice.   This really was a rare opportunity, maybe even the chance of a lifetime to prove himself once and for all.  He tried not to think about how he was on the latter part of that lifetime, but he still couldn’t deny that he had a yearning to hunt.  Fett also neglected to mention to the Naguchi women that he really had heard of these predator hunters in the past.  Long ago he had even read some classified Imperial information about how some unknown creatures had seeded selected planets with even another deadly species of alien life forms.  Those aliens played the role as the predator’s big game he guessed.  Yea, Fett had heard about these predators and aliens before, but he never wanted to encounter one……..until now he decided.
    Despite the ongoing rainfall, the next morning Fett told his protocol droid to start preparing the ship for take off and he decided to take quick joy-ride in one of his new land vehicles so he could get outside for some fresh air.  He’d grown up on planet where it rained ever hour of the day, so he truthfully still liked a nice downpour as opposed to the standard heat of Tatooine.  Fett was now donning his infamous Mandalorian helmet which was impressive in itself.  The T-shaped visor set in the helmet incorporated a micro binocular view-plate.  The rest of the helmet featured a temple-mounted broadband antenna, motion and sound sensors, an infrared scanner device, plus an internal com-link connected to Slave IV’s CPU unit at all times.  Proudly, he pulled out of the well concealed garage zone and immediately slammed the accelerator to near full power with the heel of his boot. 
    His water resistant raincoat flapped in the wind behind him as he made an extreme banking turn to avoid a rather large natural outcropping of boulders and small rocks.  Then he gave the machine some extra juice as he scorched through the wet desert disappearing towards the Dune Sea while leaving a trail of mist-vapor behind him.  He wasn’t wearing the full Mandalorian battle armor, but the dark narrow T-shaped visor in his helmet greatly enhanced his peripheral vision to three hundred and sixty degrees.  Especially good in this weather he thought to himself as he scanned the endless wet landscape zipping by him. 
    Gliding at phenomenal pace, Fett was still lost in a world of his own thoughts; he sensed a strong connection to this backwater planet located in the outermost part of the Outer Rim Territories.  Composed of the Smuggler‘s Moon of Nar Shaddaa as well as the central planet, Nal Hutta, which was the home-world that spawned every single wicked Huttese syndicate clan member.  This far-off, boondocks part of the universe was a long way from any other inhabited systems like Naboo or Coruscant.  The other dot on the Outer Rim space-map, Tatooine, had almost cost Fett his life once before because of that damn smuggler and scoundrel, Han Solo of course. 

    Fett remembered……shortly after the famed Battle of Hoth, the empire’s ruthless enforcer and second in command to the Emperor, Darth Vader, desperately wanted to capture the Imperial fugitive Han Solo and his Rebel craft, the Millennium Falcon.  For that reason, Vader hired a miscellaneous assortment of skilled bounty hunters to find Solo and his crew.  The six man group of bounty hunting scum consisted of a viciously ruthless cold-blooded Trandoshan killer named Bossk, who craved clamping his reptilian fangs around Fett’s neck any chance he got.  The assembly also included a hired gun who called himself Dengar, this guy turned out to be an important asset to Fett later on down the road of his life.  The well-known Boba Fett was obviously present with the other unruly mercenaries. Vader specifically pointed out to Fett that the Falcon's valuable passengers were to be taken alive.  "No disintegrations," rumbled the Dark Sith Lord, obviously familiar with B. Fett's deadly reputation.
    As expected, it was the Mandalorian-masked hunter who successfully tracked down the speedy Falcon from the ice planet of Hoth to the sky-city of Bespin.  Arriving at the giant gas planet before the Falcon, Fett and Vader sprung an ingenious trap on Captain Solo’s hapless crew.  Fett, a shrewd negotiator himself, received his fat bounty for capturing the crew and was also given custody of the incarcerated Han Solo. The bounty hunter was then set to collect the reward on Solo's head placed by the vile underworld gangster, Jabba the Hutt. 
    Snapping back to reality, Fett veered hard left, dodging some errant pot-shots fired by hunkered down Tusken Raiders.  B. Fett again promptly drifted back to thinking about the past, when he whisked the carbonite-frozen form of Han Solo away from Bespin.  He eventually arrived on Tatooine aboard his first starship, the Slave I.  Fett then delivered the frozen Solo to Jabba, his some-time employer, and was thousands of credits richer. 
The overweight slug Jabba, more than Vader even, seriously sought after Han Solo’s hide with a passion and once explained the reason why to the listening Fett while the corrupt mobster chief tugged on his inherited hookah smoke pipe.  The Hutt kingpin’s longtime favorite smuggler, Solo, had dumped a costly bulk load of raw glitterstim spice worth exactly twelve thousand four hundred credits, on a simple pickup and delivery from the Moruth Doole mines of Kessel to Jabba’s Palace on Tatooine.  Jabba said, Solo abandoned the illegal drug contraband because in fact, he was seized by a tractor-beam and immediately boarded, where his ship was extensively searched and inspected by an Imperial customs crew.  After an all-purpose investigation, they reluctantly found nothing, and he was released.  As soon as Solo went back to retrieve the spice barrels, the smuggler was forced to hurtle at top velocity with the high-speed Millennium Falcon to avoid arrest from a pair of tariff officials piloting Imperial space cruisers who had apparently scooped up Jabba’s dear spice cargo. Not a good enough excuse for Jabba though, Han Solo had many enemies besides just me, Fett thought as he kept steering the lightning fast swoop-bike through the currently chunky rain.
      Fett had heard many stories like Solo’s while he stayed at Jabba‘s Fortress, and the bounty hunter happen to be present when Solo's friends attempted to rescue Jabba’s beloved decoration, the carbon-frozen smuggler Han Solo.  The now long dead crime lord, Jabba the Hutt, was enraged at the attempted prison break by captain Solo and his loyal friends. The Hutt mob-boss then brought his disrespectful captives out to the Tatooine desert, to execute them in the belly of a beast.  In the vast sandpit of the Great Pit of Carkoon lay the immense Sarlacc, a despicable creature that would digest its prey over thousands of years.  Rather than let themselves be thrown in the Sarlacc's maw, Solo's friends, led by Luke Skywalker, fought against their unprepared captors.  In the chaos that followed, Fett entered the sudden fray. 
That damn con-man Solo, free of the carbonite and suffering acute blindness from hibernation sickness, wildly swung a vibro-ax into an unaware Fett's jetpack.  With the pack’s thrusters activated, the bounty hunter powerlessly soared into the Tatooine sky, out of control.  The airborne masked soldier couldn’t recover quick enough and violently slammed into the side of Jabba's sail barge before tragically tumbling into the awaiting Sarlacc's hungry mouth.  With a sickly belch from the disgusting desert monster, it seemed as if Fett's career as the galaxy's most notorious bounty hunter was brought to an end.
    That space pirate Solo was the one who was supposed to be gulped up by the Great Pit of Carkoon, along with his giant furry Wookie sidekick, Chewbacca!  And that son of Darth Vader, Skywalker too, who chopped my favorite blaster in half with that primitive light saber weapon!   He thought while maneuvering through the desert.  But, Fett was the one who took the ambiguous honor of dying that day and it wasn't even until six years after the Battle of Endor that the promoted and esteemed General Han Solo even learned his old bounty hunter nemesis was still alive.  Fett was glad to be with the living and he eventually reclaimed his reputation, clearly returning from the "dead," and again taking on bounties for the highest bidder. 
    After slicing through the dense droplets of rain, Fett reached his destination and gazed down into the dead Sarlacc Pit of Carkoon.  Now the once Great Pit was just another crater of old hollow bones in the never ending sand and it was starting to accumulate odor-filled puddles of muddy rain water.  While bending down to look in, B. Fett’s body still felt the painful effects of that fateful afternoon on Jabba’s sail barge many years ago when Solo escaped, he couldn’t suppress the memories of that horrible day very easily.  Because of The Great Pit of Carkoon, the great Boba Fett lay naked, wounded, and defenseless on the blistering sands of Tatooine; he was thankfully rescued by his fellow hunter Dengar, who helped nurse the near-dead Fett back to health. 
This was the exact spot where I was saved so long ago, he’d come face to face with death right here many years ago and it was also the once and only time in his life, he’d actually been afraid.  Fett's first set of armor as well as his body were extremely damaged and battered by his perilous ordeal in the horrific Sarlacc.  When he plunged into the ravenous beast, he was kept alive by numerous fibrous suckers that attached themselves to his body.  That was part of the Sarlacc's horrendous metabolic process; it would keep its failing prey alive for thousands of years, all the while, slowly feeding off it.  Fett almost lost his identity in the swirling dementia brought about by the Sarlacc's hazardous toxins.  His resolve held though, and he desperately used one of his trusty weapons to blast free of the carnivores organism. 
If the crafty warrior hadn’t basically blew himself out with a thermal detonator and killed the beast, would I still be down in there being digested?  Since living on Tatooine, Fett often came to this site of his near demise and pondered that very thought.  He could close his eyes and envision how many times his main employer, Jabba the Hutt, boasted to would be victim appetizers about their impeding cruel death. The fat slug would make them listen intently while he dramatically explained how they’d be digested over an agonizing thousand years in the Great Sarlacc Pit of Carkoon.  B. Fett had endured many operations and bacta tank skin graft sessions to make him look like the somewhat normal human being he was now.  Even after all that, for some reason this dusty planet had still become the closet thing to home since he’d quickly left his native world of Kamino with his father as a boy at a young age.  Like his dad, he still preferred the rain to the usual unyielding heat of the twin suns of Tatooine days, but if you needed to live an off the map, low-key life, you couldn’t find a better place. 

    The bounty hunter didn’t know exactly why he continued to come to this emotional spot every once in a while.  But, he did know for sure that he always had a good feeling wash over him every time he turned to leave the location.  Maybe the good feeling was because he was alive and not down there being….digested…. like so many other beings had been in the past.  Fett almost shuddered at the thought and while still getting soaked by the rain, he turned back towards his all new, jet black, twin-turbo T-79 Sandsword swoop bike.  The breath taking bike was parked near a formation of rocks close to the decaying pit and it looked like it was already speeding although it sat motionless.  Feeling a rush of enthusiasm, he hopped on and made the pleasant twenty minute ride back to his residence through the saturated scenic desert in only eight minutes and forty seven seconds.  Not his best time, but close, especially considering the weather factor.  Maybe age is just a number, Fett thought to himself as he pulled into the dry garage.


    After a good nights rest, Fett had a hearty breakfast of Trandolian pancakes and eggs with a nice glass of Kaminoin orange juice to top it off.  Finishing his meal quickly and leaving the dirty dishes on the table for his droid to clean up, he made his way down to his favorite part of the Fett compound….the underground garage section.  Today was the day!  The aging man felt a surge of anticipation that he hadn’t experienced since…well…four years ago.  “Are you ready to depart sir?”  The green protocol assassin droid asked.  Without the effort of a response, Fett took the miniature CPU unit out of the back of the droid’s head and dropped the disk shaped object in his front pocket.  He had already loaded all his gear and equipment the previous night, so all the bounty hunter had to do was make his final flight checks before leaving his comfortable home to set off on this dangerous mission.  Lastly, he turned his home security system to full status which would fry any trespassers within ten meters of the house.  Realizing he didn’t even have any idea how long he’d be gone, Fett was glad he had previously invested in such advanced safety measure security precautions.  Yea, he lived in a rather remote segment of Tatooine, but like his father always said, “Never under estimate the other guy’s greed!” 
    Being better safe than sorry brought a smile to the old man’s face as he made his way up the ramp of his Slave IV starship.  The Slave IV looked exactly like all Fett’s previous vessels down to the main bluish-gray and slightly yellow coloring complete with the original ship’s awkward scrunched metal-detector shape.  But, this fourth edition of the infamous bounty hunter fire spray-class gunship was damn near twice the size of any of its predecessors. The formidable weapons and shield armor were second to none… this galaxy at least.     
    This extra space would allow Fett to bring his new toy, the T-79 Sandsword swoop bike and a nice selection of his favorite military hardware and gadgets.  He had a pretty good idea of what they were up against and the cunning warrior wanted to be ready for anything when he finally came face to face with one of those creatures on Concord Dawn.  After reaching the Slave IV pilot’s seat, Fett inserted the CPU disk into the empty slot in the front dash region of his ship.  The interior lights of the nicely-sized cockpit flashed to life as the KDY K6-series hyper-drive engine and the high-thrust Mandel Motors VTOL repulsor-lift system rumbled to the familiar hum that Fett had grown to miss.  He gripped the controls tightly as he ordered the ship to bring the ramp up, he maliciously punched in his flight coordinates, and the veteran mercenary couldn’t help but imagine that he was bringing a sleeping monster back to life.  Maybe I am…… but…… it sure as hell isn’t the ship Fett thought as he started to raise the starship of the durasteel-plated grating.
    Looking like nothing more than a flat slice of land near his home, the subterranean garage was marvelously designed by Fett himself.  The “future mineral farm” area in the side yard split open like an earthquake size jack-in-the-box.  The ground opened up quickly and efficiently, carefully not allowing too much of the now slowing rain shower to get inside.  Slave IV shot up out of the sand like a sudden eruption and the anxious assassin guided the craft up and above a collection of cumulonimbus thunder clouds stretching out over the entire horizon of the Dune Sea.  Sure, his ship could handle the flight through the light drizzle, but why put up with any turbulence during the one hour and twenty three minute trip to Mos Eisley?

    One hour and two minutes later, Boba Fett landed at a public landing dock on top of a low-rise building that was closet to the coordinates Naguchi had given him two days earlier.  He’d packed his full Mandalorian battle armor, but the old bounty hunter had decided not to don the entire uniform until they reached their destination on Concord Dawn.  He didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself right away.  Having people think your dead always has its advantages and besides, just the sight of his legendary narrow T-shaped visor would probably stir up enough suspicion in a place where most every being thought the great Boba Fett had long been deceased, existing six-feet under.  Not roaming the streets of Mos Eisley sporting a helmet-matching Mandalorian gray overcoat with black boots.     
    Fett would have felt naked without his helmet in public and he was glad not to have the, now side way falling, rain getting in his eyes as he strolled at a steady pace through the wet sandy streets of the still bustling spaceport.  The crime rate in this capitol city of Tatooine had rapidly increased since the demise of the Empire and with no formal regulation or policing, Mos Eisley, like Fett himself, had a violent history.  Following the tactical HUD display in his helmet, the wet bounty hunter found himself in front of seedy bar and grill named THE RIPE LEMON.  The antique sign of the tavern swayed in the damp wind like an old worn-down flag.  He was sure he had the right coordinates and he was also ready to get out of the driving rain regardless of the grimy appearance of the place. 
    Fett's weapon of choice had always been the sawed-off BlasTech EE-3 rifle, but it was to cumbersome right now, he concluded.  Halfheartedly, he had earlier stashed a, slightly smaller, but just as venomous, Desert Scorpion blaster pistol in his belt as he confidently walked through the swinging half-doors in the front of the saloon.  Even though it was only late morning, there was still a good amount of regular customers inside getting a head start on drowning away their sorrows of the day.     
There was still over an hour to go until Naguchi said they were going to meet at the rendezvous point, so the masked desperado made his way to a booth in the shadowed back corner of the smoke-filled bar.  He got more than his fair share of stares as he sat down at an empty table and quickly noticed that this particular watering-hole included an upstairs section, for “billiards” he guessed.  Fett was once again relieved to be wearing his helmet because even with his extensive air filtration system activated, he could nevertheless still smell the stale stench of smoke that was suspended in a purple haze around him because of the interior neon lighting of the saloon.  There was a small live band of various alien species playing a rhythmical tune that was obliviously not very popular to the observing patrons.  Fett wasn’t about to start drinking on the job so he ordered a sim-green tea….”With a straw, please!” he added as he watched the pretty Twi’lek female waitress wiggle her curvaceous backside while she strutted back to get his drink. 
    After only eight minutes and seventeen seconds of sipping on his tasty beverage, two men slipped into the open table directly across from the bounty hunter on the other side of the low-lit bar.  Fett instinctively thumbed the hammer mechanism of his Desert Scorpion hand cannon and flicked the safety control to off.  He then discreetly attached a blast-silencer that he had tucked in a belt pouch which was well concealed under his extra-large coat.  The chrome finished, point five zero caliber, carbine blaster didn’t even have the usual standard stun setting….all it had was kill.  He instantly updated the Bounty Hunter Guild’s current available bounties posted on their database in his helmet’s heads up display lens and zoomed in for a closer examination of the unsavory pair across from him. 
    With his enhanced vision, B. Fett figured out that only one of the two hooligans were really human at all, the shorter fella was a ugly unknown humanoid species with an extra set of eyes where his forehead should be along with a uneven smile not even a mother could love.  With a rather lengthy retinal scan of all six eyes, Fett discovered that only the scruffy looking two-eyed pale skinned human had an existing bounty posted.  The dead or alive proposal would profit an insignificant credit amount and wasn’t even worth the substantial price of Fett’s oversized blaster handgun he was now holding readily under his overcoat.  These small time thugs were starring Fett down like they were old-school cold killers and it was obvious they didn’t want to sit and play a friendly game of Sabbacc.  He could only imagine that in their foolish minds it would be great for their criminal careers to gun down anybody that was brave and tough enough to even look like the renowned Boba Fett.  He adjusted his high-quality hearing apparatus in his helmet to ease drop on the two hoodlum’s conversation.  “If that’s him… how many people you think he’s killed?” Four Eyes barked to his human partner.  “I don’t know….but…if it is really him….he better say his prayers” Scruffy replied.  Fett could barely make out the words they were saying over the ruckus of the dreadful band, but he knew what they meant.
      These gangster wannabes were with out a doubt, young, dumb and not quite skillful at the art of thinking their actions all the way through.  They weren’t even worth his time…but…if they did make a move, the old warrior would be ready.  As if on cue, the pair of gunmen flipped over their table an exposed wimpy banana-clipped, medium sized automatic blaster rifles.  Spraying the booth where Fett was sitting with a sporadic barrage of sizzling red blaster bolts, the veteran bounty hunter deftly slid under his disfigured table and crouched low to avoid the abrupt onslaught of gunfire.  The brittle sandstone wall above Fett’s head crumbled apart as it was riddled with gaping burning holes.  And the hysterical crowd, including the dive-bar band, escaped outside to the rain because of the extremely loud string of unexpected blaster discharges.  After the shooting stopped, the smoke cleared and the mighty Boba Fett emerged from behind the table like a treacherous bat out of hell.  In one swift motion, the masked outlaw threw his long trench coat back while he withdrew a massive chrome handgun blaster from his hip.  The seconds of time seemed to slowly creep by as the two goons looked at each other and realized they had made their last and final mistake.  Fett extended his right arm forward as the shiny gun reflected the purple black-light satirizing the entire bar.  Holding the Desert Scorpion at a slight angle, he steadily aimed the silenced weapon fearlessly dead-on at the troubled-looking duo.  Without hesitation, Fett fingered the trigger effortlessly and sent a precise low-blast, large caliber one shot firestorm squarely between all four frightened eyes of the dumbfounded human’s repulsive companion.  The body fell to the ground like a sack of bricks and Four Eyes last thoughts were now part of the stonework wall behind him.  Scruffy was held in a trance as he couldn’t look away from the burning hole of flesh and cauterized blood where his friend’s face used to be.   Ã¢Â€ÂœIt’s not how many people you kill….it’s who you kill” Fett proclaimed to the panic stricken soul cowering next to the fresh corpse.  The bounty hunter walked closer and positioned the muzzle of his still warm blaster directly at Scruffy’s forehead.  He asked the now weeping man one simple question…..“Do you want to live?”  Scruffy couldn’t speak trough his streaming tears, but he kept nodding his head with a frantic face that said…..”Yes…..I want to live….please don’t leave my brains on the wall!”  “All right….well….scoop up what’s left of your dull friend here….and make this place a distant memory….before I collect on your miniscule bounty to buy half a bantha-burger for brunch.”   As the human struggled to put his partner over his shoulder, he finally staggered to the half door exit.   Ã¢Â€ÂœAnd don’t forget to tip your waitress!” Fett announced loudly.  Under his helmet, he winked at that first-rate Twi’lek girl standing at the way out as Scruffy forked over more than enough dough to pay for his drinks plus the extensive blaster damage he and Four Eyes caused to the saloon’s wall and table.  Old B. Fett thought it was ironic how Scruffy ended up spending more credits today at The Ripe Lemon than his meaningless life was even worth.

    Fett went back to his booth to retrieve his drink, but it too was obviously reduced to a smoldering pile of rubbish, as was the charred wood table and surrounding wall.  Just as he was about to go outside and wait in the rain, the bounty hunter caught a glimpse of Machiko Naguchi coming down the stairs behind him with the use of his helmet’s three hundred and sixty degree vision.  She stormed down the steps as if she was in a hurry and made a bee line straight for Fett.  He couldn’t help but stare this time at the etched mark on her forehead from behind the protection of his dark tinted mask.
Naguchi wore a light gray jumpsuit that tightly clung to her womanly form in all the right places and her dark hair was slicked back, still wet as if she had just rushed from the shower.  “What in the hell is going on!?” Naguchi demanded while glaring at Fett with her fiery hazel eyes.  Now that she was fuming, he realized she looked a lot younger than when they had first met back at the Fett complex two days earlier, but it was probably because she was now furious about the suddenly deafening blaster fire that had erupted below her while she was caught of guard, standing naked in the shower.  “What are you doing here Mereel…..besides causing trouble of course!?”  Naguchi declared, getting hotter with every word.  “The name is Fett…..and after careful consideration I have decided to accept your business proposition……under one condition………I drive.”  He could see the fine lines of age coming back to the woman’s face as she started to relax and cool down her overheated temper.  Flaming wall fragments dropped just as she began to speak.  “Your decision has nothing to do with those blaster holes in the wall….does it?” Naguchi said while pointing over to the on fire and destroyed booth.     
    “No, that’s just some young punks trying to make a name for themselves……by bumping me off, I guess……I still have it tough, huh?”  Naguchi didn’t answer, but flashed a pretty smile and gazed into Fett’s helmet as if she was searching for his eyes.  “I’m sure any true warrior would kill to get their dirty hands on a fine piece of merchandise like this.”  “That helmet’s almost as nice as mine” she said, nearly whispering to herself.  He didn’t know exactly what she meant by the helmet remark, but he let it slide for now as she explained how she was staying with the rest of the team in the upstairs part of the quaint cantina, grill and…..hotel, Fett guessed.  After the brief shootout, the refreshed killer was hungry for more action and ready to meet the team and go on a big game hunt.
    Martin Jess and Dexter Rothstien were introduced to the bounty hunter as he entered room 112 and he was surprised by their spacious living-quarters which was located at the end of the upstairs hallway.  They both saluted Fett, which he thought was strange, but he didn’t know what else to do…..except to salute back.  With obvious military background, he was satisfied with the cards he’d been dealt to round out his hand of destruction.  Jess was a middle-aged dark skinned soldier with a fully grown beard and a head of tightly woven corn-rows that were shaped in unique designs under his green camouflaged watch cap.  The other commando, who liked to be called Dex, was a younger fella with a slightly lighter complexion than Jess, but possessed the same intensity.  The shorter one, Dex, had a nasty habit of smoking these menthol cigarette sticks none stop like he was in some type of race, but they sure looked like death sticks to Fett.   The continuous smoker sported a short blonde ponytail and wore the same cap with dog-tags combo as his buddy.  The two mercenaries had some real combat experience and according to Naguchi, the soldiers were experts at following out orders, a quality that Fett would require for this type of team-partnership between four individuals to work properly. They had a short sit-down meeting with all the players involved and held a brief holo-conference with the chief security officer of the mission, Alastair Covington, who was more than tickled to have the infamous Boba Fett aboard for the mission.
    Luckily, they all agreed to take the Slave IV starship, considering there was enough room for everyone and their gear.  Fett assured them that his ship could hold everything, as long as they didn’t mind putting some of their stuff in an empty holding cell or two in the prisoner-hull below the main deck. 
With the help of Fett’s efficient cargo droids, it took less than nineteen minutes to load all the weapons and supplies the trio had brought.  Fett couldn’t believe there was so much empty space, even with the bulk of a Weyland/Yutani owned, four person, ground vehicle, the Trail-Hunter Rodeo they called it, taking up most of the cargo bay.  The six-wheeled, off-road coupe could conveniently adjust its height and width to accommodate any space-travel shipping restrictions.   The bounty hunter estimated that he could still squeeze a fully corpulent Hutt down there if he needed to.  When the others saw the ultra-sleek T-79 Sandsword swoop bike strapped in the cargo bay, Dex couldn’t help but stop smoking for a split second to run his hand along the velvety aerodynamic body angles of the one person craft.  “Just in case” Fett said with a level and emotionless voice while he tugged on the leather fastenings preventing the bike from banging and crashing around so much during the flight. 
    Naguchi checked out of The Ripe Lemon Bar and Grill/Hotel and……Casino too, Fett found out as she arrived back at the ship.  The pack of predator hunters departed from the Mos Eisley spaceport in the late afternoon, setting a course straight to Concord Dawn. Taking flight during rush-hour traffic wasn’t the best idea, but they all wanted to get a head start on the week long trip, which was clear across on the other side of the universe and actually close to place where Naguchi and the rest of the team members were from.  Their home planet, Earth, was smack-dab on the opposite side of the deadly San Andreas Triangle of asteroid fields in a far away galaxy named the Milky Way.  This secluded part of the universe, according to Naguchi, had never been affected by the likes of the Empire or Republic and their entire galaxy was only inhabited by humans.  “Until the predators came” Jess clarified.
There would definitely be more than ample time to learn more about the new business associates as soon as they got into hyperspace Fett thought as he calibrated the coordinates to the planet where he, the once Journeymen-Proctor named Jaster Mereel was long ago exiled from, Concord Dawn.

The barren wasteland of Tatooine and the rest of the Outer Rim Territories became shrinking spheres through the transparent rear panel view-plates of Slave IV as the planets and stars became streaking lines while the bounty hunter’s vessel hit hyperspace speed.  Fett set the course, allowing the autopilot CPU unit to take control over the ship’s navigation systems.  Then he climbed down the ladder rungs from the cockpit leading to the adequately-spaced, lounge deck located in the belly of the craft.  He felt younger with every step as he hit the grated base and moved towards the waiting squad.   
Naguchi, in addition to the team, were comfortably seated around the rarely used mini-conference table in a corner of the lounge floor.  They discussed the plan of killing the predators for good as Fett joined the impromptu meeting.  Listening intently, the bounty hunter learned that these veteran soldiers had encountered the predator creatures on several brutal previous occasions.  Sadly and shockingly, the original ten-man Weyland/Yutani Predator Extermination Team or PET, had tragically lost seven hired guns to date that were, currently part of the predator’s trophy room, he guessed.  Fett could without doubt, see now why the credit amount was so high and even more importantly, why the company was willing to pay for the best.  He still withheld his prior Imperial knowledge of the fatal creatures, but the strategic plan of the men’s two military minds nevertheless unfolded before his covered eyes. 
After two hours and forty nine minutes of brainstorming a various amount of different attack scenarios along with gathering information about general predator knowledge, Fett’s throat started to sting.  Keeping in mind he wasn’t a conversationalist, the bounty hunter was surprised he’d actually sat and talked for even that long at all. 
Never really the ladies man either; there was something about this Naguchi woman that Fett was undeniably attracted to.  Besides her apparent beauty, he couldn’t precisely target his scope on what it was that he liked about her.  Wanting to know more, they started chatting about her life as Jess and Dex caught some shuteye in the spare bunk-beds Fett had setup near the bulkhead.
As she got into her story, he couldn’t believe his ears.  Naguchi had actually lived with the predators for over two years and even took part in that alien seeding ritual of a variety of different planets Fett had read about before.  This was the reason for the lighting bolt on her forehead, he suspected.  She however, had a great respect for the predators, but she also explained that she could never take part in the senseless slaying of innocent humans. 
Naguchi told Fett how she couldn’t seem to ever get along with the predators for some reason and basically, they had forced her out of their exclusive hunting clan when the monsters went on a human safari, taking place on the swampy marsh of Bunda.  Ever since then, the Company tried to cover the meaningless disasters all up, so the top industry executives hired Naguchi to lead the PET project with the sole purpose of getting rid of the problem for good.  Since she was most familiar with them, she was chosen to make the predator race extinct of any Weyland/Yutani controlled colonies around the universe.  “That was a decade ago” Naguchi elaborated while she ogled at Fett’s visor. The woman alleged she still owned and used some personal type of predator helmet along with a set of armor she wore.  Even though her shielded cladding was stowed in the cargo bay well below, she couldn’t stop asking questions about Fett’s Mandalorian protective coverings, just to compare to hers, he guessed.
B. Fett could see Naguchi wanted to know more about the rest of his outfit, so he retrieved the full Mandalorian body armor from a covert compartment in the cockpit and began to talk about his lifelong history with the famed armor.  He explained that during the time of the Empire, he had emerged as the preeminent bounty hunter of the known galaxy.  His armor, like his father's, was a weapon-covered combat-suit equipped with a jetpack for evasive maneuvers. Fett’s fearsome armor dated back from that of the historic Mandalorian design. The often battle-scarred suit's blueprint heritage can be traced back to four thousand years ago, when the clans of Mandalores fought against the powerful Jedi of the Old Republic during the Great Sith War.  She couldn’t believe the armor had such a rich past and was still so heavily modified with the numerous, well hidden and fatal features Naguchi didn’t even know about.  Gadgets like the wrist gauntlets, which contained a flamethrower, as well as a whipcord lanyard launcher with a hundred meter line span.  His kneepads concealed rocket dart launchers and he even had an optional rocket launcher aperture in the back armor for “multiple targets” he said.  Naguchi noticed that, eerily similar to the predator’s habits, several ominous braids hung from the armor’s breastplate shoulder.  “Trophies from fallen prey that were especially difficult to apprehend” Fett explained as they underscored the hunter's lethality.  Naguchi was anxious to show of her armor when they landed, but was also extremely impressed with the Mandalorian designed equipment.

The next couple of days of travel aboard the Slave IV ran pretty smoothly, mostly because the four hunters didn’t have much else to do besides plan and talk when they weren’t sleeping.  Fett knew the time would come when Naguchi would ask him about who Jaster Mereel was, and what his history was on Concord Dawn.  When the inevitable question arrived, Fett didn’t know what else to do except tell the truth.  It was weird to talk about his past because truthfully the bounty hunter had never divulged this much personal information to anybody, ever.  Let alone, even talk this much to anyone.  He thought. 
The real Jaster Mereel had actually been his father, Jango’s mentor and role model when he was a boy.  Jango Fett’s dad was a Journeymen Protector on the distant farm planet of Concord Dawn, he too was ruthlessly murdered and it was the Mandalorian mercenary splinter group Death Watch who took young Jango, under their wings.  Jaster Mereel was the leader of the faction and it was him who taught the adolescent Jango Fett how to become a great warrior as well as a distinguished bounty hunter.  Young Boba had heard the stories many times about the squash buckling adventures of Death Watch………but that was only when dad was actually home.
As Naguchi continued to listen, B. Fett explained that early on in his own career as a bounty hunter he had unfortunately lost track of an important bounty posted by Jabba on a significant separatist leader named Wat Tambor.  Fett couldn’t believe he remembered back this far, but continued to talk.  The Jedi Order’s, Anakin Skywalker cut down Tambor with a light saber before the young hunter, Fett, could catch him, alive, like he was suppose to.  In an act of pure shame and dishonor, the youthful Boba Fett fled to his father’s home world of Concord Dawn to let Jabba and his clan cool down while they maybe forgot about what happen to Tambor.  While on the rural planet of Concord Dawn, B. Fett quickly took on a job as the local Journeyman Protector, which was basically the sheriff of a certain region or, “parish”, as they called it there.  He also decided to inherit the title of his father’s hero, Jaster Mereel, to honor the man who trained Jango Fett in the Mandalorian way, which was of course, passed on to young Boba.  Also, he obviously wanted to avoid any entanglement with Jabba’s henchmen that might be searching for Fett.  The Mereel name along with some perfectly forged documents was the perfect means of disguise.  After only a little over a year on Concord Dawn, Fett as Mereel, was exiled from the planet for the murder of a corrupt Journeyman Protector who was supposedly “helping” the planet’s struggling economy by secretly smuggling in illegal alien slave laborers from the spice mines of Kessel to work the farms in his parish.  That slimy son of whomp rat deserved to die…….everybody dies someday, and justice was served when I pulled the trigger that day Fett thought as he finished telling Naguchi how after his exile from Concord Dawn he eventually went back to work as…..Boba Fett the bounty hunter. 
The name Jaster Mereel was once again used by Fett after his last encounter with Han Solo four years ago.  Not too long after that was when Fett decided to relocate to Tatooine for good, he once again took on the name of Mereel for basically the same reason as he did so many years before when he first fled to Concord Dawn.  Boba Fett’s wasn’t the name exiled from the farming planet, so neither he nor Naguchi figured Fett’s history as Mereel would be a problem when they arrived.

After only five days of travel Fett had actually built some sort of friendship with the squad and he was anxious to see what they could accomplish as a team.  However, one thing he did have to take on by himself was the treacherous San Andreas Triangle of asteroid fields which filled the front view-port of Slave IV as he decelerated from hyperspace.  The endless sea of floating rocks could only be navigated manually because of so many unknown factors the CPU navigation system couldn’t register and the obstacle laden trail required a skilled pilot as well as some durasteel nerves to pass through to the awaiting Milky Way galaxy.  The rest of the team was asleep, which Fett thought was convenient so they wouldn’t be apprehensive about his flying expertise.  Taking a deep breath, he lunged into the precarious triangle of asteroid fields, hoping for the best. 
After twenty nine minutes of near-faultless maneuvering, Fett had only clipped a small rock with the tip of his left wing while dipping and diving through the clustered space.  With the end of the run in sight, an enormous looking boulder came out of nowhere directly in the flight path of Slave IV.   Without any hesitation, Fett instantly gripped the controls and fired two concussion missiles that streamed through space to convincingly shatter the massive rock into a shadowy mist of dust particles.  There was still a cloud of ash lingering as the starship shot through the debris and safely reached the end of the deadly triangle.  That was close, Fett thought to himself as he heard his passengers start to rumble around below, obviously awoken by the ship’s weapon discharge.  “Is everything all right up there?!!”  Naguchi groggily yelled up into the cockpit.  “Everything is fine……we’ll be touching down in a little under an hour…so, be ready” Fett responded without a hint of emotion.

2 (edited by tg23007 Saturday, April 22, 2006 12:10 am)

Re: Boba Fett vs Predator:...Natural Selection....

thanks man, I thank you for taking your time to read it, I hope more people read it so I can know if anybody wants me to post the rest.  I've just discoverd this site but I've been working on this story for awhile, trying to keep the continuity with Alien vs Predator series of books as well as B. Fett's history. Anyways, this site is great and I'm sorry my storys so long but I think it's worth it!!

Re: Boba Fett vs Predator:...Natural Selection....

Cool...took forever...but very cool.

They say that dreamers are an extinct breed. I say they're wrong.

4 (edited by True Warrior Friday, April 21, 2006 4:44 pm)

Re: Boba Fett vs Predator:...Natural Selection....

Did you write that? I've tried to write some Fett stories, but Im NOWHERE as good as that! POST MORE!

{MW} [color=#FF0000]"Death and Destruction to our Enemies!"[/color]
[color=blue]Listen to My Rap Songs!![/color] [url=][/url]

5 (edited by tg23007 Sunday, April 23, 2006 8:17 am)

Re: Boba Fett vs Predator:...Natural Selection....

Thanks so much to you guys that took the time to read my story.  I really appreciate it.   Here's a little more!!!

Fifty two minutes later, Slave IV shot through the sub-space atmosphere of the farming world of Concord Dawn as the vessel’s deceleration buffers flared like eternal candles in the dead of night.  The ship was instantly saturated with the darkness of the planet’s elongated evenings while flying at a steady pace towards their destination.  B. Fett could barely see the spec of flashing lights below as he navigated to the location where he’d been given clearance to land.     

Covered by the shadows of nightfall, Fett carefully set the flying arsenal down at the prearranged landing dock.  The surrounding compound was a subsidiary of the Weyland/Yutani Company called Kincade Farming Operations and Products.  Because of the slow rotation of the planets axis, the day-night cycle on Concord Dawn was considerably longer than most other inhabited worlds.   With an average day of sunlight lasting almost forty seven standard hours, just about all local systems used the planets vast natural resources for most farming and cattle purposes.  Unfortunately, this also meant the nighttime was somewhat extended as well, so, even though it was two sixteen in the afternoon on Fett’s clock, the darkness was inescapable until the next “day” which was in……thirteen hours….Fett discovered as he recalibrated his watch.   

Frankly, the new and improved PET squad didn’t really care how much sunlight there was, as long as they could catch a predator on the prowl.  In a stroke of pure luck, the “infected” parish was on the total opposite side of the planet where Fett had been Sheriff Mereel decades earlier.  Nevertheless, this particular sector of the rural world looked exactly the same as he had remembered from his time as a Journeymen Protector a lifetime ago. 
Boba Fett and the team slowly walked down Slave IV’s ramp and as the ships cooling systems expelled a light smoke, they made their way to the entrance of the Kincade Farming facility.  The main ranch compound was immense; in addition to that, it was near-completely surrounded by the outlying crops and colossal trees that streaked across the dark landscape.  As the team hit the permacrete ground of the landing grid, Dex immediately sparked up a cigarette while they noticed three human figures emerging from the well-lit double door entrance. 

Two of the men Fett didn’t recognize…..but….the first un-shadowed sight of the mustached guy in the middle sent a sudden injection of rage that coursed through the hunter’s veins. 

Lando Calrissian looked like he hadn’t aged a bit since his space-pirating days with that damn Han Solo.  Fett stopped in mid stride and rested his gloved hand slightly above the butt of his fully charged Desert Scorpion handgun which was now holstered low on his thigh.  “What’s he doing here?”  Fett asked while he contemplated if he should kill the founder of Tendrando Arms right here and now.  Lando flashed his signature pearly white smile and slowly raised his hands in a mock surrender gesture.  But, the other two at his side weren’t smiling; they brought their oversized blaster rifles to firing positions and pointed them  directly at Fett.  “Wait…wait!!”  Naguchi yelled as she stood straight in front of the ready warrior. 

    “He’s the one who referred us to you!”  Naguchi exclaimed while Lando Calrissian slowly walked towards the team as he motioned for the trigger happy pair at his side to hold their fire….for now.  “Yea, Fett…… listen to your gorgeous friend here.”  Calrissian words were heard, but Fett could see Lando, the recently married business man, carefully undress Naguchi with his lustful eyes as he still held his hands halfway up in a reluctant sign of surrender.
    Fett instantly felt an emotion he had never experienced in his entire life up to this point……jealously….and he knew right away it was a feeling he didn’t like.   Even though he had crossed paths with the rascal Lando Calrissian countless times in the past without killing him….right now….Fett could blast the bastard’s knee caps and watch him bleed out, devoid of feeling a trace something like remorse or sorrow.  Not that remorse or sorrow were emotions Fett had ever felt either, but this was something different….this was personal.
     The murmurs of sound turned to words as Fett tuned back in to the ongoing conversation while he quickly suppressed his unexpected feelings to the back of his mind. 
    “So….how many YVH hunting droids do you want?”  Fett didn’t respond to Lando’s question as Naguchi cut in.  “Hello!.....Fett! there anybody under that helmet of yours?”  “Do we need more weapons or battle droids?”  “No, I’ve prepared for everything.”  Fett said flatly, finally responding.  Lando’s silk half-cape caught the light wind as he turned to leave and said. “Ok then I must go, I have other paying business ventures to attend to.”  Calrissian was obviously frustrated with the apparent waste of time and for even coming to Concord Dawn in the first place. 
    Before he left, Lando introduced the mysterious young gunners at his back; they sported matching blasters and had relaxed their previously aimed weapons.
“This is Vashawn Graveston, the local parish’s Journeymen Protector….and…. this is Uro Excobar….he’s an employee of mine and a novice Jedi.”  “Uro has my com-link number and he will contact me when our little problem has been properly eliminated.”  Calrissian gave one last smile to Naguchi and gave a nod to his associate as he hustled back to his awaiting ship….which must have been parked inside, because Fett didn’t see another craft sitting outside besides Slave IV. 
The old bounty hunter was beginning to second guess his decision to come on this mission at all, now that this Jedi was involved.  Fett had a special place in his cold heart for the pure hatred of Jedi.  Even though this Excobar character wasn’t a full blown Jedi, B. Fett didn’t like the idea in the slightest, worse more, he’s an employee of Calrissian. 
Uro Excobar wore the Jedi customary long dark brown shroud, but he had some rather uncustomary shiny blue crystal-ice studs that pierced the bottom of both his ears.  Also unlike other Jedi warriors, he carried the reliable Tendrando Blasters N-16 assault rifle that was still strapped around his shoulder.  Fett didn’t notice a light-saber that was visible right away, but he was sure the young Jedi punk had one tucked in his belt somewhere under his dress.
Vashawn Graveston’s outfit didn’t look like anything Fett could remember from his days as a Journeymen Protector.  Graveston’s black and red coveralls looked about as dirty as the ground they walked on, furthermore his B-16 blaster rifle appeared as if it was a valuable relic from the Clone Wars with a mass of grip tape-with dirt accessory-that was wrapped around the weapon’s handle and firing shaft.
B. Fett wasn’t pleased at all with having two additions to the squad.  Now that there were six team members, he didn’t give a womp-rat’s hind quarter how the two were getting paid.  It didn’t matter who he had to blast, their fee wasn’t coming out of his cut of the fifty mill.

to be continued...........