Interwoven Underworld

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Earth 14: 0 C

Fett had seen his fair share of seedy underworlds and corrupt planets, but this was his first time seeing an entire planet inhabited by nothing but lawless criminals and "villains" with the closest thing to a security force aside from gang enforcers being extra-planetary authoritarians who tried in vain to whip them into shape through fear. So far, the natives had all just struck him as unrefined, power-hungry, pleasure-seeking brutes. This doesn't seem like your atmosphere, Reddington he thought Your lead had better pan out.

"Low orbit only," he remembered ordering his granddaughter before departing and entrusting his ship in her temporary care. He trusted the planet's natives with a starship as much as he trusted Jawas not to steal a droid, so he had her drop him off.

"And you'll make contact," she rolled her eyes. "I know. I know, old man. I won't go on any joyrides."

"Ain't seen you round here before," a tattooed thug pressed off of the building the merchant he was seeking resided, the rest of his scrawny gaggle creeping out from different corners.

"I'm here for business. Anybody home?" he cradled his EE-3, unconcerned and planned out what order and what manner they would die in if it came down to it. They're not worth the ammunition.

"The Rock Man ain't taking visitors right now," the ringleader sauntered up to him and revealed a slugthrower tucked away in his pants as the rest of the gang moved to deny Fett entry.

"I'm not being paid for your scalps or his, but I won't hesitate if you don't move," he kept his composure.

"Whatchu mean 'paid for our scalps'? You some kinda bounty hunter or somethin?" the obnoxious man smiled and gestured to his crew for approval, who rewarded him with a laugh. Fett's patience had run dry. He jabbed the stock of his carbine into the man's throat and aimed his flamethrower at those blocking the way, making an example of one of them who flailed helplessly on the ground after a shot from their weapon pinged harmlessly off of his armor.

"Move," he growled at them and prepared to finish the rest. Apparently, they did seem to have some sense of self preservation and parted, creating a path to the door. None dared to impede his progress and eventually scattered back into the alley from whence they came. Upon entry, he was greeted by the sight of an older man with various parts of his body replaced with cybernetics.

"Who the h**l are you?!" the cyborg demanded.

"A client," Boba cautiously strolled over, fully aware the man had triggered a silent alarm.

"What's a guy like you need gemstones for?" he put up the obvious front for his true trade.

"Nothing, I'm here for your other products," Fett glared into the man. "Kryptonite. I heard you have some. And a variety."

"I... I don't know what you're-."

"Now's not the time to lie. I'm not some thug like the people of your world. I'll actually pay you for it." The old man perked up at the mention of payment.

"Well you should've led with that," he smirked with what flesh remained and disappeared under the counter. When he failed to reappear after a few seconds, Fett began to wonder if he'd fled through a trap door. That was when the countertop's surface began to fold in on itself and a veritable rainbow spewed from the cracks. A long display of glowing crystals of varying colors and sizes slowly arose from within along with the old man. Fett's gaze immediately shot to the green and yellow variants. "Like what you see?" Fett remained silent and activated a scanner to verify their authenticity.

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