"Come out, Mandalorian!" a bounty hunter roared. "We have you surrounded!"
"Secure the flank!" A Falleen male's voice rang out, tense and commanding. He was clearly an experienced warrior. However, the moment he finished speaking, the Falleen suddenly collapsed, blood spurting from his severed neck.
"There he is!" a Rodian male shouted in terror, his voice echoing through the night. Blaster fire erupted immediately, but the mysterious figure had already vanished from sight.
In what had once been a restaurant, a lone warrior in midnight-black armor crouched behind overturned tables, using them as cover against fire coming from multiple directions. He sat with his back against a table, seemingly isolated from the chaos, though his mind rapidly calculated escape routes.
"You really did it this time, Wes," he muttered to himself, an unmistakable note of grim satisfaction in his voice. "Finally couldn't help yourself, could you?"
Something whistled through the air. His hand shot out instinctively, catching a thermal detonator mid-flight. He smiled beneath his helmet, tossed the explosive back toward its origin, and ducked as screams and the subsequent blast filled the air.
"That's the second time," he whispered, diving into a vendor stall for better cover. He observed his opponents and shook his head. "They never learn."
He reached up and gently touched a control on his helmet. After confirming the setting, he quickly rose from cover and fired a spread of metal darts. Though some missed their targets, several found their marks. Wails of pain erupted across the battlefield.
"Damn you, Mandalorian!" one human roared, fury twisting his features. One of the dead had been his friend.
"Stay calm," a cold female voice commanded. "That's exactly what he wants. Maintain pressure, or you'll end up like your companion."
The mercenaries gritted their teeth, attempting to compose themselves. They refocused their attention on the mysterious Mandalorian warrior.
Who was this warrior, and why did so many mercenaries, bounty hunters, and Black Sun operatives want him dead so desperately?
He was more than just a warrior. He'd become a legend. Among numerous names and epithets, one had gradually become known throughout the underworld: Wes Jom, the Nightmare of Black Sun.
He was a bounty hunter, a blademaster, a weapons expert, and the last survivor of his Mandalorian clan. Black Sun had completely destroyed his people, and recently, he'd personally killed one of Black Sun's nine Vigos. Since then, the flame of vengeance had burned ceaselessly in his heart.
Black Sun, this criminal syndicate, cast a massive shadow across the galaxy. Wes was the light attempting to pierce that darkness.
Among criminal enterprises, few inspired as much fear as Black Sun. Only the Hutt Cartel and the Pyke Syndicate could rival their criminal empire.
But everything had changed recently because of one being who'd caused unprecedented bloodshed across the galaxy: Ultron.
Ultron's galactic assault had been like a storm, devastating countless planets, star systems, organizations, and destabilizing the entire galaxy. War and chaos followed in his wake. Ultron's attacks ignored governmental authority, striking any target without discrimination. His initial assault had caused panic throughout civilized space. His conquest of Jabiim had frozen the entire galaxy in terror.
Such panic spread rapidly among factions, camps, and power structures. Many criminal organizations called for ceasefires, urging members to set aside differences and focus on this greater threat.
Consequently, shadowy organizations held numerous meetings to discuss countermeasures.
Tracking, target identification, bounty hunter deployment, threatening declarations—plans were proposed one after another. But problems followed. Because this wasn't an ordinary enemy, but a machine with the singular goal of destroying all galactic life: Ultron.
He wasn't seeking power. He had no interest in overthrowing existing authorities or eliminating criminal organizations. His objective was far more direct and brutal: the complete extermination of all organic life on a galactic scale.
Beyond the threat Ultron posed, another undercurrent flowed through the galaxy: opportunists attempting to exploit the chaos for personal gain.
Among these forces were influential criminals and warlords who'd previously tried and failed to overthrow established order.
However, in this turbulent period, every attempt by these individuals was like throwing massive stones into a calm lake, creating destructive ripples.
Among them, a Mandalorian named Wes Jom stood out. His target was Black Sun, a criminal empire that had endured for millennia.
He'd successfully eliminated five of Black Sun's Vigos—more than half the organization's core leadership. This series of actions naturally caused panic within the criminal family.
To end this threat, Black Sun's leader, a fully lifelike replica droid named Guri, was assembling a small but lethal strike force.
Known for her unique charisma and ruthlessness, Guri cut an impressive figure with her flowing blonde hair, form-fitting combat suit, and numerous weapons she carried. Though most would consider her a beautiful woman, keen observers sensed something distinctly unnatural in her cold gaze and precise movements.
Wes Jom understood his situation clearly. He had to find a way to combat this force. He'd observed Guri from behind cover and remained wary. He understood that simple armed confrontation wasn't the optimal strategy. So he began thinking, reasoning, trying to find a method to dismantle the Black Sun Empire while preserving himself.
He assessed his strengths and weaknesses. He knew Guri was a cunning opponent, but he'd also identified her weakness: a kind of detached indifference, as if she'd transcended the emotional and moral constraints of organic beings. Wes knew he had to act carefully to avoid falling into her traps.
Simultaneously, he began searching for potential allies and support. He understood he couldn't fight the entire Black Sun Empire alone. He needed to find others willing to stand with him against this dark power.
He believed that with persistence, he would eventually find a way to defeat Guri and Black Sun. But right now, trapped in the endless chaos, surrounded by encroaching darkness, the restaurant that had been his refuge was now only ruins and rubble. The back entrance had collapsed under rocket fire. He was trapped.
Wes grunted in pain as a massive blaster bolt scorched past his position. If he'd had options before, they were gone now. His beskar armor, while exceptionally durable, couldn't protect him completely. If a shot hit the gaps at his joints or neck, he'd be immobilized or worse—paralyzed, even killed.
These attackers had accuracy comparable to B1 battle droids, which was to say, terrible. But on this particularly bad day, even idiots got lucky occasionally. And when enough idiots fired simultaneously, eventually they'd land hits that caused real damage.
"Dammit!" Wes roared as the space behind his cover vibrated violently from continuous blaster impacts. His cover was reaching its breaking point.
Right now, Wes desperately needed a miracle.
And that's when—
"Get him!" a Falleen's voice cut through the chaos. "He can't keep hiding forever. Flush him out!"
"Idiot! That Mandalorian bastard we're looking for, you fool."
"Oh, right, yeah, I remember... wait, is he a Protector?"
"Is he Death Watch?"
"So he's a lone wolf?"
"Does it matter, moron?"
"Just asking. Guy's got serious skills after all."
In the confusion, the Falleen turned to see a blaster muzzle pointed directly at his forehead. Behind it stood a Mandalorian in green armor.