January, 3980 ABY – Ord Mantell
I was twenty-one, running for my life.
My arm hung uselessly and broken as I tore through the rain-slick streets of Ord Mantell. Blood trickled warm down my cheek, mixing with the cold downpour. Every breath burned.
Rain sliced through the neon haze of the spaceport district. Steam hissed from vent pipes along cracked concrete, carrying the reek of burnt fuel and rust.
Alexander's boots splashed through oily puddles. His hood was drawn low, shadows hiding sharp, calculating eyes. This was no place for mistakes.
The underworld pulsed around him: mercenaries, smugglers, killers, all watching from the dark.
His fingers brushed the hilt of the maul-lightsaber hidden beneath his coat.
From the shadows, two Dark Troopers stepped into the narrow street, blocking his path.
"Looking for someone… or just lost?" one asked, voice hissing through the steam.
"Passing through," Alexander replied, steady, cold.
The troopers scanned his face, red optics flaring.
"Lies. You are a wanted man, Alexander." Boots slapped against slick pavement as one activated a holoprojector.
A high-ranking Imperial officer's face shimmered into view.
"Good. Sending transport droids. Confirm your sector."
Before they could reply, blaster fire cracked through the rain. The Dark Troopers staggered and collapsed in a shower of sparks.
The Manchins.
"Stop that boy!" a voice roared through the storm.
Alexander stepped over the fallen droids, gaze like steel, pushing deeper into the alley. Reinforcements would come. They always did.
"Come on, Alexander," someone called. "You can't run forever."
Up ahead, a narrow gap between stacked cargo crates, his only way out.
A hiss of compressed air behind him. A blaster bolt seared past his ear, forcing him into a low slide behind cover. His hand found the blade strapped to his thigh. The alley was closing in, a steel trap.
High above, an Imperial war droid's voice rasped into a comlink.
"Target acquired. Sending pickup crew."
Alexander's breathing stayed calm, measured.
They think they can catch me. Let them try.
"Taren," he growled into the rain, "if you think you and your crew can stop me."
"I'll do what I must to take back what's mine," came the cold reply.
Silence. Tension thick in the air.
Then the war droid dropped from the vent shaft like a hammer, blaster fire lighting the storm.
The fight was furious, bolts cutting through steam and rain, but the Manchins fell back, beaten.
Alexander turned to run, too late. The droid slammed him to the ground, durasteel hands locking him in place.
"I have the subject," it reported. "He's carrying something valuable. Send extraction immediately."