The tranquility of Fluwhaka's skies were stagnant. Blue skies stretched endlessly above, majestic winged creatures broke the symphony of stillness with their chirping. But amidst the untouched grandeur of Fluwhaka, where nature's hand had sculpted rocky spires and natural formations that touched the sky, there existed a contradiction.
The absence of civilization did not hinder the fact that there were sentient beings amongst these rock formations. Pirate strongholds emerged from the depths of the monolithic structures. These hidden sanctuaries of outlaws utilized the natural structures in their machinations.
The quiet solitude was abruptly shattered by a violent disruption. A low, reverberating roar echoed through the rocky expanse, a symphony of mechanical might. Technology. In time, the source unveiled itself to be a Repulsorlift-skiff. But what commanded attention was not the craft; for it was nothing but the amalgamation of circuitry and metal. No, the true focus of all eyes, whether it be sentient or artificial, was the solitary figure that inhabited the skiff's surface.
Rugged. Scarred flesh. Metallic exterior reminiscent of battle-worn armor. Cold eyes hidden beneath a series of grimy bandages.
A lifetime ago he was a different man. A lifetime ago he knew family, love, and fear. But time has eroded these sentiments and replaced them with a singular purpose: killing.
He was a survivor. relentless. Every scar etched upon his face carries a story of near-death encounters and narrow escapes. Through specialized technology created by the machinations of the Empire, he was molded into a living weapon
He was armed. A cache of weaponry hangs at his side as a testament to his lethal proficiency. Blasters, grenades, and other tools of destruction are his means to an end.
He was devoid of remorse, driven solely by the pursuit of his quarry and vengeance upon those who wronged him. His name evoked a shiver amongst the sentient creatures amongst the galaxy's criminal element, a warning to those who dare cross his path. <strong> Dengar.</strong>
Dengar's boots found solace upon the natural balcony crafted by the rock formation, his movements were marked by a grace that contrasted his rugged appearance. His gaze was enhanced by the crimson glow of his eyepiece - an augmented photoreceptor salvaged from a droid that allowed Dengar to delve into a world invisible to ordinary senses. He could conduct scans for biomaterial, body-heat, and the density of any mass, solid or liquid.
Before Dengar stood a formidable hexagonal blast-gate that could withstood countless assaults. It looked impervious to blaster bolts, radiation, and electromagnetic pulses.... And it was open. Delving into the tunnel, the sporadic placement of lifeless bodies littered the cavernous expanse. It was clear that someone had beaten him to the bounty he sought. Amidst the cacophony of clashing weapons and the desperate shouts of combatants that echoed within the far reaches of the cavern, Dengar discerned the presence that would prove to be the true threat.
Dengar ventured further into the labyrinth-like tunnels. With each step, the symphony of conflict grew louder, within the dimly lit recesses, he discovered the epicenter of the commotion. Standing with his back turned to Dengar was an Ubese - Jordon Horreck, the quarry Dengar was on the hunt for. But it was not the Ubese himself that seized Dengar's attention. The Ubese's blaster leveled at a green-armored figure, suspended perilously from the very edge of the natural balcony. Only one man fit that description in this galaxy: Boba Fett.
Dengar's finger decompressed upon the trigger. There was the harsh clap-back of a rifle accompanied by the acrid scent of discharged plasma before the Ubese's body crumpled to the unforgiving ground. Only when he was certain that the immediate danger had passed, did Dengar kneel down beside the lifeless form of the Ubese.
The cold sensation of a circular barrel pressed against the back of Dengar's head, "Drop the weapon." A synthetic voice stripped of emotion to conceal its origins issued a terse command. Boba Fett's T-shaped visage seemed to bore into Dengar; as if he was daring him to make a move. Yet, an unsettling realization gnawed at him, words escaped Dengar's lips, "You're not Boba Fett..."
Dengar's instincts for self-preservation prevailed, no bounty was worth risking his own life. He slowly raised his hand's up. "Don't worry, I won't rush you. Not my style."
The Mandalorian imposter seemed to consider his words. With a slight nod, the imposter lowered his rifle in acknowledgment of Dengar's non-threatening posture. "Ain't you that Kast guy? Jodo Kast?" Dengar's voice carried a hint of caution and a measure of familiarity. He knew of Kast, a bounty hunter who had once been with the Rebel Alliance. He had betrayed his comrades to seek a fortune amongst the bounty hunting world.
Dengar shook his head, "Being smart keeps you alive, masquerading as Fett ain't smart. You gonna shoot me for givin' a piece of advice?"
Jodo Kast, for that was his true identity, planted his weapon at Dengar. "Only if you keep talking. Get on your skiff and go," Kast commanded, his tone was laced with no negotiation or compromise.
With a barely perceptible nod, Dengar conveyed his surrender with compliance executed without hesitation. He retraced his steps through the labyrinth-like tunnels until he reached the alcove where he had parked his Repulsorlift-skiff. While Dengar was grateful that Kast didn't kill him, but he wasn't too partial to anyone pointing a blaster at his head. As the skiff glided through the mist-covered skies of Fluwhaka. A smirk tugged at the corner of Dengar's lips, he understood Kast's motives. A desire for higher-paying bounties led to the audacious attempt to assume the mantle of the infamous Boba Fett.
Trust was a commodity in short supply in the treacherous world of bounty hunting, and Kast's decision to spare his life had its own consequences. Dengar knew a certain someone who would not take kindly to Kast's audacious actions... and Dengar was one of the only sentient beings who knew how to contact that certain someone...