OUTLAWS [Din Djarin] [The Mandalorian]

· Prologue - The Hunt ·

A lonely sun began to set as people of all kinds and species made their way back home—except for one.

Despite their quite conspicuous attire, the figure somehow remained unseen by all as they stood by a pillar, shielded by the shadows provided freely by the night falling fast upon the small planet. Held by their gloved hand, tightly, firmly, a hunting knife soon reflected the moonlight on its polished surface; the other held a piece of wood, almost of the same size as said hand.

The silver sharp edge prodded into the dark wood with precision, at equal intervals; the dry thumps and thuds subtly mixed with the quietude of the peaceful town as the sun moved away, and the moon took her rightful place above all. The sounds would soon be accompanied by the soft chatter coming from nearby cantinas—at the slight crescendo of laughter and drunken shouts, the thuds became practically inaudible after a while. Without faltering the firm grip on the wooden piece, the other gloved hand readjusted the hold on the knife before it resumed its incessant hits. Bits and pieces flew about, falling carelessly around the heavy combat boots as they stood on the dirty ground, completely still.

The piece had just began to take form when the figure ceased all motions.

A man entered the cantina closest to the figure's location; his attire didn't look at all special, his tall stature did nothing but make his entrance to the cantina a little awkward, and his seemingly handsome face held not a hint of fear or paranoia typical of a quarry-in-hiding.

No. This man didn't look at all scared. He held his head high as he sauntered his way into the busy pub, with a steady rhythm in his steps—as if he'd been to that same place many a time before, which wasn't the case.

To anyone else, he might be just a man having a drink to unwind from a full-day's work.

The figure hidden in the shadows provided by the night knew better.

They had been following this bounty for quite a few rotations now—they had got to know his routine, his daily chores and trips around town, his fruitless attempts at keeping himself off the radar. Nothing he did ever showed what the man had truly become over the years; his recent actions barely resembled the illegality of his past actions, and constant confrontations with other bounty hunters.

Somewhat, somehow, he had evaded all hunters throughout many cycles—respectfully earned the title of hardest bounty to be caught in the Parsec among other infamous quarries. The hunter in the shadows couldn't help but scoff mockingly as the thought crossed their mind.

This man's wrongdoings weren't of interest to this certain bounty hunter. They didn't care about whatever he'd done to earn himself that ridiculous title, and a bounty of 10.000 credits; they only cared about catching the fiend, turning him in, and receiving their well-earned prize.

The hunt was on.

Tonight, his freedom would end.