The Warden
Greyman's Planet was an oddity in the Outer Rim. It was industrialized, and vastly so. Most than many of the backwater holes that Sol frequented while keeping his corner of the galaxy free of scum. That presented an environment less open than what he was typically used to. Urban jungle, tight rounded corridors, slick evening rain...
It made a successful hunt all the more thrilling.
The man he was after was just the kind of hunt he savored. Exhausting every option, he was backed into a corner and getting desperate. Corga Frisk was his name, Balosar from the Mid Rim. He was scraggly, unkempt, and most importantly to Sol a dirty slaver. His adherence to the Farworlds Alliance doctrine made it clear how to handle a man like this. As the man huddled in desperation the neon backlighting of the city illuminated the silhouette of the Mandalorian Ranger as he stood in the mouth of the alleyway. His t-visor was all that could be discerned, glowing with a blue visage.
"P-please!" the man stammered out, desperately trying to find something on him to bargain with. "Y-you like money, don't you Mando?! I-I can pay you! W-way more than my bounty is worth!"
"Not a Bounty Hunter," a cold voice answered, filtered through his helmet. "Brought your filth into my territory... begging won't do you any good."
Before Frisk could even let out another plea, Alias Sol drew his mighty Hand Cannon with lightning speed. It only took one stun round fired from the hip. The Warden was brutal and efficient, but he was a man of the law. Corga Frisk was to be taken back to the Alliance to stand trial. The Mandalorian hit a pager button on his vambrace, and before long a vessel that had been lingering nearby drifted down from above, landing in the clearing just outside of the alleyway. Sol scooped up his target with ease and shuffled over to the ship before he placed them securely into the prisoner pod aboard. Then he simply let the vessel depart again, waiting in the wings once more for him to call.
He wasn't quite ready to leave just yet.
Once more, the Warden trudged through the rain-slicked streets of Greyman's Planet, all until he found himself staring down the neon sign of a small dive bar: the Twisted Lek. For a moment his visor lingered on the worn out frame of the door...
Then he moved to enter.