Boba Fett

The twin suns of Tatooine hang low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty canyon pass. A convoy of swoop bikes speeds through the ravine, crates of stolen spice strapped to their frames. The gangsters laugh—until the lead rider’s bike detonates in a sudden explosion of smoke and fire.

Out of the dust, a figure emerges.

Green armor. Black visor. A low hum from the jetpack as he lands hard on the rocks. Boba Fett draws his EE-3 carbine with fluid precision and fires once—twice. Two riders drop before they can even turn.

“You stole from Jabba,” Fett says, voice modulated and cold. “This is the part where you pay.”