Acier Moonbound
Son of None
O R D- M A N T E L L- C I T Y
O R D- M A N T E L L
M I D- R I M
O R D- M A N T E L L
M I D- R I M

After months of wandering, chasing fragments of information, half-truths, and the ghost of a name he couldn't place. it was that time again. Time to bunker down. Time to work, scrounge, and build up just enough credits to go looking again.
Following a near miss on Denon (another bounty hunter, another close call), Ace had managed to slip offworld with

Two weeks on Ord Mantell hadn't changed much, but the quiet helped. Long enough to catch his breath, maybe even get used to the rhythm of one place again. For now, he'd taken up a small gig at a local repair shop. Honest work. The only kind he really knew.
Today, he'd clocked out late. The sky was still painted in afternoon gray, clouds drifting lazily above the edge of the mountain horizon. Unlike Bonadan, or Botajef, or Denon - Ord Mantell City didn't rise in towers. Everything here sat flat, wide, and breathable. The air was real, or at least it felt like it. The city had that worn charm, the kind of place that didn't ask questions. Easy to get lost in.
And that, more than anything, was exactly what Acier needed.
He stood on the edge of the street, hands sunk into his pockets, shoulders just a little less tense. For a moment, he allowed himself to look up, to just be, watching the clouds stretch overhead like they had somewhere better to be.
That moment didn't last. Out of the corner of his eye, something shifted. Not in the Force, but in the rhythm of the street itself. Something he had come to know very well Two men, maybe three, closing in on some guy by the vendor stalls across the avenue. Nothing dramatic. No weapons drawn. Just the kind of hushed aggression you didn't notice unless you knew how to look for it. And that, Acier did.
The guy they were cornering stuck out immediately, wrong robes for a place like this. Clean, too clean. His posture screamed 'no survival instincts' or maybe just someone too kind for this part of town. He wasn't resisting, not really. Just confused. Saying something Ace couldn't quite hear. The lead scammer smiled too wide and held up a datapad, pretending to be helpful. Ace knew the trick. "Free system access" to help you find your docking info," or "Charity signatures" that sign away your credits. Saw it on Bonadan, Denon, everywhere. Always the same.
He exhaled through his nose. Wasn't his problem. Wasn't supposed to be, anyway. Still… the robed guy wasn't backing off. And the other two were starting to flank — one drifting toward his satchel like he already owned it.
Ace clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"Idiot." he muttered, not sure if he meant the stranger, the scammers, or himself.
And with that, he crossed the street.