By JediMindTrick
Disclaimer: I don’t own Boba Fett, or any other star wars terminology, or anything else like that. They all belong to Lucas Films.
“You are a Mandalorian – never forget that.”
Boba Fett’s father once told him that on one of their countless bounty hunting expeditions. It is now five years after his father’s untimely demise, and these words echo in the young man’s head as he sits atop a small shop on the desert planet of Tatooine. For five blocks in the trading district of Mos Eisley, Boba has been jumping from rooftop to rooftop, closely watching a man and his two young children leave the marketplace with many bags of fresh groceries.
“Dad, I’m tired,” the young boy complained.
“Me too, Daddy,” his little sister added.
“Alright, alright, kids, I hear you. Fine, we’ll take this shortcut through this alley back to home.”
“Ha, stupid kids. Oh well, saves me some work,” Boba whispered to himself.
The small family turns into the alley, and as soon as they are out of the sight of the general public, Boba runs fast to get ahead of the trio who are now right below him. As they approach, Boba patiently waits. Waits. Now! Boba hops straight down off the building and drops right in front of the man and his frightened kids. In the time it takes for all of their eyes to widen in shock, Boba whips a large knife out of his cloak and slices the father’s head cleanly off his shoulders.
“Daddy!” the children collectively scream as their father’s head rolls on the dirt passageway. All the groceries drop to the ground, and Boba quickly picks them up and runs off in the other direction, leaving the kids stranded – parentless – in a world too big for any child to take on alone. He would feel some remorse for the new orphans…if the same thing had not happened to him years earlier.
Boba Fett returned home shortly afterwards. “Home,” as he called it, was no more than his father’s ship, Slave I. Over the past five years, the young boy had learned to fly the ship solo, and had actually become quite good at it. Upon seeing his father, the great bounty hunter known as Jango Fett, being mercilessly killed by that scum of a Jedi, Mace Windu, Boba immediately ran to Jango’s vessel and having seen and actually helped his father fly it numerous times before, Boba left Geonosis on Slave I by himself. Since then, he has become a drifter, wandering from system to system, trying to find something, anything, that can give some meaning to his life.
Now he sits and enjoys his delicious dinner which he provided for himself today, and he thinks about the great kill he had earlier. A smile comes to his face as he thinks about the look on those kids’ faces as he stylishly took their father away from them. In fact, he thinks to himself, he has gotten quite good at the killing game. Just this week, he has hunted down three humans, a rodian, and even a couple Tusken Raiders who were foolish enough to get near his ship. Looking up from his plate, Boba glances over to the other side of the compartment, where his father’s Mandalorian helmet sits, almost gleaming from the daily polishing that it receives. It is all that the teenager has left to remember his father, and so the helmet itself has become a shrine, the only thing Boba has any regard for in this godforsaken galaxy. His father would no doubt be impressed by how cunning and ruthless his only son has become, Boba thinks. Or would he? Jango Fett hunted the greatest of criminals all across the universe, and here Boba is, killing simple creatures and street folk for mere scraps of food.
“You are a Mandalorian.” The words almost haunt Boba, reminding him of how little he has done with his life since his father’s death. A true Mandalorian warrior would not be on some desolate planet like Tatooine, settling for killing commoners just to get a bite to eat. Mandalorians’ only true goal is victory - absolute victory - and the destruction of all those who stand in the way.
“What am I doing here?” Boba asks himself disappointedly.
“You’re going to die, that’s what you’re doing.” Boba felt the cold steel of a blaster on the back of his head. But how is that possible? Who could have possibly evaded all of Slave I’s defenses and been able to sneak up on him like that. No one has ever done that. “Put your hands behind your head, get up, and turn around. Nice and slow like, kid.”
Boba has no choice but to do as he is told, and he turns around to see what he can only describe as a demon. In reality, it is a Nikto, with red leathery skin, and many horns protruding from its forehead and face. The devilish creature checks Boba for any weapons, and being satisfied that he is unarmed, slaps Boba straight across the face with his blaster and knocks him to the ground. Boba can only get up to all fours, and the Nikto kicks him right in the gut and Boba again falls on his face.
“There is someone outside who would like to see you. Get up and start walking. Any sudden movements, and consider yourself dead.” Filled with rage, Boba is sure he can take this vile creature with his bare hands, but he is more curious to see the man who could possibly penetrate Slave I without being fried.
Exiting the ship, Boba turns to see that it was no man, but of all creatures, a Hutt who was waiting for him. A gang of thugs flanked the large slug: two Gamorreans, a Twi’lek, a massive Weequay, and two droids. The protocol droid spoke.
“Good evening, Master Fett, I am Z-3PO, and the illustrious Jabba the Hutt bids you welcome as well.”
Being thoroughly unimpressed, Boba yells back, “Who the hell are you, and how did you break into my ship? And better yet, how do you know my name?”
As Jabba speaks in Huttese, his powerful and commanding voice quickly humbles Boba, and immediately Boba begins to pay full attention to what he has to say.
“The mighty Jabba warns you watch your lip, and has an offer for you.” Not wanting to further anger the Hutt, Boba tells the droid to continue. “Earlier today, you killed one of Jabba’s finest smugglers, Jaden Morse.” Hearing those words, for the first time in his life, Boba fears for his life. “As retribution, you may either retrieve an item which has been stolen from the great Jabba, or be destroyed.”
Boba didn’t particularly care for the latter option, so he agreed to the mission which Jabba gave him. The droid explained that a Falleen female by the name of Zileena had seduced one of Jabba’s associates (who had already been fed to the rancor for his idiocy), and taken a datapad which contained all of the Hutt’s most secret business and financial data. If this datapad fell into the wrong hands, the droid continued, Jabba’s interplanetary business empire ran the risk of crumbling. “And on the datapad, you will find an image of a black sun.”
With that, Jabba and his henchmen allowed Boba to return to his ship. As Boba was about to close the hatch, he again heard Jabba speak. “The almighty Jabba adds, if you do not return to Tatooine with his datapad, you will be Bantha fodder.”
That was encouraging, Boba thought. He set his course for Coruscant, which is where Jabba said the Falleen had taken the datapad, and entered hyperspace. It would be a long wait until he arrived at his destination, since Tatooine seemed to be the farthest planet from the rest of the galaxy. The wait gave him plenty of time to think…and question himself. Did he bite off more than he could chew this time? He needed to watch what he wished for. Still, how did that Hutt know his name, and get into Slave I? Those questions would have to be answered later. And could one datapad really be so important? No matter. All he had to do was kill some woman and grab the datapad – how hard could that possibly be?
Boba exited hyperspace, and joined the chaotic repulsorlift traffic that always orbited Coruscant. He took Slave I to the lower levels of the planet, and entered a discreet hangar where he thought his ship would be relatively safe. Of course, he would have to set the ship’s security level on high, just in case any lower city scum had the notion of breaking into it.
Entering the ship’s armory, Boba didn’t know if he was mentally prepared for this challenge, but at least he’d have enough weaponry to take out a small army. The first thing he would need in the dangerous lower levels of Coruscant was body armor. Boba had once scavenged a battlefield from the Clone Wars on Jabiim, and there he picked up the armor of an ARC Trooper, a specialized clone trooper which his father had trained personally. That armor was agile, but tough enough to withstand some small arms fire. Along with various utilities, he picked up a heavy blaster, some thermal detonators, and a good amount of Kamino saberdarts – one of his father’s personal favorites. Boba locked up the armory, and started to exit Slave I when he passed by Jango’s old helmet. Boba paused for a moment. It’s time, he thought. Boba took off the clone trooper helmet and ceremoniously placed the shiny Mandalorian helmet on his head.
Now only one problem stood in the way of finding Jabba’s lost datapad: Boba had no idea where to look. His father had only told him about Coruscant, but he had never ventured that far into the Core Worlds himself. On the way to Geonosis, right before he died, Jango did tell Boba about his adventures on Coruscant, and he mentioned that he killed Zam Wessel right outside the “Outlander Club,” a gambling casino in the lower levels of the planet. Boba could start there. After all, Boba’s father once told him, “If you’re looking for information, the first thing you do is check out the casinos and cantinas. The scum of the universe have a way of spilling their guts real easily in those places.”
“Wanna buy some deathsticks?” Boba had not been in the Outlander Club five minutes and a sleazy Balosar dealer was already trying to sell him narcotics.
“If I wanted to die,” Boba replied coldly, “would I be wearing this armor?”
“Okay, so maybe not deathsticks,” the Balosar by the name of Elan Sleazebaggano argued, “but I’m sure you need something. Everyone always needs something. Information, I bet.”
This slime might be useful yet, Boba thought. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? As it turns out, I do need some information. I’m looking for a Falleen female by the name of Zileena. Have you seen her?”
“I may have seen her,” Elan smiled, “but it’ll cost you.”
“How much?” Boba’s credits were limited, as he usually stole, not bought, everything he ever needed.
“500 credits.”
“You’re out of your mind, nerf dung.”
“Hey man, take it or leave it.”
“How about this?” Boba stuck his blaster right in Elan’s gut. The two were so close, no one else could see what was going on. “Will you take this as payment instead?”
“Whoa man, easy. No need for violence! How about 50 credits?” The Balosar was clearly sweating.
“That’s more like it. But if this information’s no good, you’ll wish you had never tried to sell me deathsticks.”
Boba holstered his blaster and stepped away from Elan, letting him speak freely. “Yeah, yeah, of course man, you got my word.” That means a lot, Boba thought. “I did see some Falleen chick in here a few hours ago. She didn’t stay long though, she looked she was in a hurry – kinda scared too. I was outside on the corner when she left, and I saw her take a taxi to some guy’s place, Djas Puhr, I think his name was. She said it was just a few blocks away from here, down that way.” Elan pointed down the street to a section of the city which was even slummier than the part he was already in.
“Thank you for the information. Pray you don’t see me again.” Boba began walking out of the Outlander Club when Elan ran up behind him and grabbed his arm. Boba turned around with incredible speed and drew his blaster. Elan quickly backed up and raised his hands as if he were surrendering.
“Hey, hey, settle down, killer. I was just going to tell you that a few minutes after she left, some Trandoshan came in asking around for her. I didn’t tell him anything, but he left right away to.”
Boba said nothing. Instead he just turned around and left. A Trandoshan, he thought – this can’t be good.
Creeping in the shadows of Coruscant, Boba kept thinking of that name, Djas Puhr. He was sure his father had mentioned it. Yes, his father had told him Puhr was a fellow bounty hunter – new to the game, if he remembered correctly. Boba thought hard, and recalled the fact that he was a Sakiyan, so he was no one to be taken lightly. Sakiyans had keen senses and were very strong for their size, so they were just as dangerous and deadly as the next race.
Boba also couldn’t believe he was saying things like, “Pray you don’t see me again.” If they only knew I was just a teenager. In fact, Boba realized he had never talked so much in his life. Talking quite frankly made him exhausted. He would rather shoot someone instead of carry on a conversation with them. Without much thought, Boba came to the conclusion, I hate talking.
When Boba finally reached the residential district Elan Sleazebaggano told him about, he needed to find a strategic point from which he could scan around the entire area in order to find Zileena, Puhr, or maybe even that Trandoshan. Boba made his way down a particular alley that seemed to have a good viewing point of all the surrounding apartment complexes. As he approached the spot he wanted, he saw a street bum yelling to people walking by, but he could not make out what he was saying. Slowing creeping behind the man, Boba could finally hear what the man was shouting.
“The end is coming! Repent! He’ll kill us all! The Jedi are dying! Repent!”
Boba walked as softly as he could to sneak up on the bum, but strangely, the old disheveled man heard him coming from behind and turned around to look straight at Boba Fett. His face was almost touching Boba’s helmet, and he seemed to be looking straight into Boba’s eyes right through his mask. His breath fogged up Boba’s visor. Boba stood, almost frozen.
“Son, did you know the end is coming?”
“For some quicker than others.”
Boom.
Thud.
Fool, Boba thought as he stared at the dead body, smoke still seeping from the exit wound in the man’s back. Boba could care less about such matters. He could especially care less for the Jedi, as one of their highest-ranking members took his father’s life. Boba searched through the man’s torn, tattered clothing just in case he might have something of value. What’s this? Boba couldn’t believe what he came across. A lightsaber? The teenager was naturally stunned – He was a Jedi! Then he humorously added the afterthought, Ha! He was smart – he must’ve retired. The feeling of any emotions was very rare since his father died, but Boba couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of satisfaction in killing a possible former Jedi Knight. This lightsaber might come in handy, too.
Boba picked up the cold body, walked over to a nearby dumpster, and through the fallen Jedi in as if he were no more than a mere sack of garbage. After all, that’s all he was to Boba anyway. Returning to the spot where the man was standing originally, Boba pulled out his electrobinoculars and began scanning the windows of all the rooms in every single building around him. She has to be around here somewhere, Boba optimistically thought. For quite awhile, he scanned with no results. About to give up, Boba was about to turn off his binocs when a certain window caught his attention. In a building across the street, he could see a couple people arguing inside. The argument quickly ended with a laser blast, a Falleen female crashing through the window and falling to her death five floors down to the ground below.
This might be easier than I expected, Boba thought as he quickly made his way to where the Falleen had landed in a not so comfortable manner. When he reached the body, Boba looked down and shouted, “What the bloody Sith is this?” It was, in fact, a Clawdite changeling, the same species as Zam Wessel, with a laser blast directly in its forehead. Boba nonetheless searched the body for the Hutt’s datapad, but found nothing.
Sick of all the games, the young man became infuriated, and looked straight up to the apartment from which the changeling had fallen. On his left wrist, Boba carried a miniature ascension gun. He aimed it directly overhead and shot at the ledge right below the shattered window. Rapidly he rose to the ledge, and using his pure strength, climbed his way on top of the ledge and stood against the wall right outside the apartment, where it was pitch black inside.
Boba leaned his head into the now open window, but saw no signs of the other person involved in the bloody dispute. Carefully he climbed inside the apartment and began searching for the datapad. He was seriously doubtful the person who stole Jabba’s datapad would be stupid enough to leave it around, but it was worth a shot. Up, down, above, below, he tore the apartment apart.
Nothing.
Until the lights came on.
Boba turned to the door with blaster ready, and there he saw the remarkably beautiful Zileena, datapad in hand. “I suppose you are looking for this?”
There it was - the datapad, with the image of the black sun on it.
That was the last thing Boba saw before he fell to the floor, unconscious.
What have I gotten myself into? Boba awoke with a pounding headache. His eyes were blurry, which is understandable, considering the hit he sustained in the apartment of Djas Puhr. The young bounty hunter looked around, trying to figure out where he was exactly. His surroundings seemed to be quite luxurious; however, he also seemed to be in some kind of prison cell. Boba’s helmet sat a few feet away from him on the deck, and his hands were cuffed behind his back.
Well, there’s the Trandoshan I was looking for. In the corner of the cell, a Trandoshan warrior was crouched with his back turned to Boba, gnawing on some kind of piece of meat. Boba attempted to focus his eyes. The Trandoshan turned around to check on Boba, and growled as he continued to eat his meal.
Yeah, he’s definitely eating an arm.
“You could be next,” Zileena said with an evil smiled as she walked regally into the room. “That is, unless you’re a good little boy.”
“Go to hell, wench,” Boba responded defiantly.
“Ooh, such harsh words.” Zileena ran her long, green fingers down Boba’s cheek. “Now tell me, would you rather deal with little old me,” she pointed to the Trandoshan, “or mean Mr. Cradossk there in the corner?” Cradossk growled at Boba as blood ran down his face like some delectable sauce on a mouth-watering piece of barbecued meat.
Cradossk! He’s one of the top bounty hunters in the galaxy. Not good.
“I suggest you talk to me, because as you can see,” Zileena walked over to Cradossk and rubbed the back of his reptilian head as he finished his tasty snack, “things did not turn out so well for that Clawdite.”
Love was an emotion foreign to Boba Fett, but oddly enough, he could not help but feel somehow attracted to the Falleen. “Where am I?” Boba asked with a straight face.
“Why young man, you are in the palace of my lover, Prince Xizor.”
Boba had heard grumblings of the man known as Xizor in some of the cantinas on Tatooine, but whenever his name was mentioned, the conversation soon ended, either by choice or by the shot of a blaster.
“But if you don’t mind, I’ll be asking the questions.”
Knowing he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Boba reluctantly replied, “Whatever. What do you want to know?”
“The obvious: why were you trying to steal my husband’s datapad?” Zileena and Cradossk both walked over to Boba, and stood right over him.
“Lady, you’re crazy. That datapad belongs to Jabba the Hutt, and I was just sent to retrieve it for him.”
“Ha ha ha! You fool!” Zileena got eye to eye with Boba, “Perhaps you should do a little research before you blindly accept a mission.”
Not like I had a choice in the matter, Boba thought. “What’re you talking about?”
“You stupid little boy, do you know nothing of how the galaxy really works? These Clone Wars, the recent struggles over the taxation of trade routes – it all revolves around the desire for power. Jabba the Hutt has always been jealous of the mighty Prince Xizor his grand Black Sun empire. Now it would seem that slimy slug has had some delusions of grandeur.”
Boba soon figured out the intoxication he was experiencing must have been as a result of pheromones that Zileena was exuding. Acting like a true professional, Boba learned to block out the seductive mist that was all over.
Zileena continued her oratory, “Djas Puhr, that pitiful Clawdite, and now, a child? My, Jabba has become desperate. Well, I suppose we could make him happy just this once.” Boba raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “That datapad has no real useful information on it anyway. Take it to Jabba, let him feel a moment’s satisfaction, and tell him if he ever interferes with Black Sun again, we will see just how big of an appetite the Almighty Sarlacc truly has. Will you do this for me, you handsome little devil?”
Pretending to be still under her control, Boba responded, “Yes. Of course, if it will keep me alive.”
“Very good,” Zileena said with a grin from cheek to cheek. “Cradossk, escort this young bounty hunter to his ship.” She then handed Cradossk the datapad with the image of the black sun on it.
For the first time, Cradossk actually spoke. “As you wish, Zileena.” The Falleen left the room, and Cradossk’s tone quickly changed. “On your feet, runt.” Cradossk assisted Boba in standing up by grabbing Boba’s throat with his sharp claws. He then put all of Boba’s belongings - including his helmet, weapons, and the datapad - into a satchel. Cradossk shoved Boba out the door and got close behind him with a blaster in pinned against Boba’s back. “Start walking.”
The two were walking down the main corridor of Prince Xizor’s extravagant Black Sun palace, and Boba decided to attempt some small talk with the Trandoshan. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Too bad I’ll eat you long before anyone ever hears about you.”
A palace security guard came over Cradossk’s comlink, “This is Agent BS-117! We have a security breech in sector G-5! Massive explosion with men down!”
The emergency report was interrupted by Zileena’s slithery voice. “Cradossk, you have exactly 2 minutes to take care of this problem or it becomes your problem!”
“I’m on it, Zileena.” Cradossk unlocked Boba’s magnetic cuffs, and threw the satchel into Boba’s chest, knocking him to the ground. “Your ship is docked in Bay 737. Take a left at the next corridor, and go down about 200 meters. I suggest you find it quickly, unless you want to be my dessert.”
The two hunters ran in different directions, and Boba found a dark corner in which he could hide. Bunch of idiots, he thought. Boba put the Mandalorian helmet back on, and rearmed himself. Boba knew full well this was not the datapad he was sent to recover – a bomb of some sort, more likely. Now all he had to do was fetch the real datapad and get out of there – alive, if at all possible.
The lights went out. Cradossk and the entire Black Sun Palace Guard were completely bewildered. All they could hear was the moaning of injured guardsmen everywhere. All they could smell was a combination of the acrid smell of burning electrical equipment and the gut wrenching smell of burning flesh. They could see nothing…Until flashes of blue and red illuminated the entire palace. Black Sun’s very own security system had been turned on itself, and blaster cannons began firing at everyone within.
Up in the main security complex, Zileena yelled at the technicians. “Find out who is doing this. Now!”
One of the technicians yelled back fearfully from his computer, “Milady, all of our sensors have been jammed! Even our infrared scanners have been scrambled! Whoever is doing this means business!”
Zileena grabbed the technician by the throat, “Well why don’t you find out just who exactly that is! And someone find me that bounty hunter!”
That bounty had already made his way into the palace’s ventilation system. Luckily for Boba Fett, the loss of lighting did not effect his mission, since his father’s Mandalorian helmet was equipped with the finest infrared vision available. Boba’s only problem was, he still had no real idea where he was. He needed a map. Through the gratings of a ventilation duct, Boba looked down to see a fallen Lieutenant in the guard. He must have a layout of this place on him, Boba thought. Boba turned off his infrared sighting, and observed that triangular crossfire filled the room. He knew the blasters were motion based, so he would have to take them out rather quickly. Boba kicked down the grating, and as it fell to the ground, the three cannons vaporized it. Impressive. Too bad I’m the next thing to go down there. Boba took a deep breath, focused, and dropped to the ground. He immediately shot the solo cannon, grabbed the guardsmen’s gun from his dead hand, rolled to dodge blaster fire, turned around, and all at once took out the two cannons in the opposite corner of the chamber.
Satisfied with his work with the area’s defenses, Boba walked over to the guardsmen and searched him for a map. Attached to the guard’s utility belt, Boba found a datapad with complete schematics of the entire palace, including the ventilation system. Boba looked at the blaster hole in the guard’s chest plate, “Well, look’s like you won’t be needing this anymore.” Boba climbed back up into the ventilation system, and began following the map to the palace’s safe. There he knew he would find the man responsible for all this, and the datapad Jabba wanted so dearly.
As Boba approached the room that led into the vault, he looked down to see a fellow bounty hunter using some pretty fancy hacking equipment to break the access code to the safe. Humanoid body, dark green head, red eyes: it must be a Sakiyan. They have natural infrared vision. That’s how he saw in the dark! Wait, then that must be Djas Puhr. Jabba must have sent multiple bounty hunters after that datapad.
Puhr’s equipment made quick work of the safe’s locking device, and within moments, he entered the vault. Quickly he came back out, datapad in hand.
No sooner had he come out, when a guard shouted, “There he is! Get him!”
Another guard added, “Set your blasters to stun! Zileena wants this rat alive!”
The palace technicians were only able to turn on the emergency lighting system, so the room was still very dark, but the gunfight that ensued lit up the whole chamber. Guards shot, Puhr ducked, shot back, and killed many of the guardsmen. Unfortunately for Puhr, one of the shots hit his blaster, rendering it quite ineffective. The rookie bounty hunter took out his knives, tossed two of them into the hearts of two guards, slashed another’s throat, and stabbed one right in the gut. But more guards came and overwhelmed Puhr. Before Boba Fett could get to his nemesis, Puhr was shot in the back and dragged off to be thrown into a detention cell. Not wanting to go back and visit Zileena, Boba made his way back to Slave I and hastily departed, thankful for his life.
Back on Tatooine, Jabba’s court was delighting in the fact that Jabba just fed another one of his unlucky dancers to his pet rancor. The lowlifes in his palace laughed merrily as the dancer screamed in agony. However, silence soon fell upon them as two blaster shots were heard coming from the main entrance. Bib Fortuna ran into the main audience chamber, ranting and raving. “Master Jabba, someone has killed two of our finest Gamorreans.”
Jabba laughed, “Ha! Then that must be our dear—“
“Fett.” A heavy blaster was placed on the back of Jabba’s head. “The price of this mission just went up exponentially. Now, the price is your life…and ten thousand credits.”
Meanwhile on Coruscant, Zileena laughed at the newly imprisoned Djas Puhr. “How many of you pathetic bounty hunters do I have to kill before Jabba finally gives up this foolish game? Guard, do you have the datapad?”
The guard ran up to Zileena with datapad in hand. “Yes, milady. Right here.”
“Good, load it into this computer to make sure this scum did not tamper with it at all.”
The datapad was inserted into the palace’s main computer, and a black sun flared onto the screen. “No one betrays Black Sun,” scrolled across the monitor, and the computer spoke, “Self-destruct of this facility will commence in 3…2…1…”
“Get down!”
BOOM!
And on Tatooine, Boba told Jabba how he had to jump down into the middle of a fierce gunfight to switch the two datapads, and sneak off unnoticed by either party involved. So needless to say, that job was no longer pro bono. Boba stood right on the secret hatch down to the rancor with supreme confidence and did not even flinch when Jabba spoke.
“You make me laugh! I am impressed by your cunning and ruthlessness. But do you actually expect me to pay you ten thousand credits, boy?”
Boba replied coldly, “The name is Boba Fett,” his heavy blaster pointed right at Jabba, “and yes, I do.”
“Fine, it will be done, if you answer me one question. I sent a skilled Clawdite. I sent Djas Puhr. They failed. How did you manage to return with Black Sun’s most vital datapad?”
Jabba’s reflection appeared in Boba Fett’s visor as he looked directly at the Hutt. “I am a Mandalorian. Never forget that.”
