A Good Thing

-threats-

A/N I am so in love with this character tbh. Just a note on Migs, I know that Bill Burr is 56 but my Migs is 33 at this point. I know. he is obviously not that young but you're just going to have to go with it. It is actually important to the story. 

Chapter 24

-threats-

After they'd left him on Morak, Migs Mayfield hadn't lingered. Enough of the villagers had seen his face when they'd driven through that he didn't like his odds with them. Instead he had circled back to the burning mine. A handful of ships had escaped the explosion so it wasn't difficult to get off world.

Cara would report him as dead, and while that gave him the chance at a fresh start, he still kept his head down. Someone might still recognize the face of a dead man wandering on his own. For the next several months, he traveled from one star system to another a bit aimlessly.

Part of him wanted to go back to his old life. It was risky but it usually paid well. When he'd abandoned his post as a murderer for the Empire, crime had been an easy second choice. He had acquired a certain skill set while serving and it was useful as an outlaw. Besides the natural fit, Migs felt someone with as much blood on his hands as he had didn't deserve anything better.

Now he had a chance to do something else, but starting over with nothing but a killer's skill set was proving difficult. Maybe he should find a stray kid. That had seemed to work for the Mandalorian. From everything he'd heard about him and what he had seen himself, before the kid, ole Brown Eyes was just as hard and dangerous as Migs had ever been.

The last time he had seen him, there was something more to the hardened bounty hunter under the shiny tin can. Taking care of that little green thing had given him a new purpose. Migs wanted that. But as humorous as it was to imagine himself riding around with a helpless child, he knew that wasn't for him.

Back when he'd been a kid, training at the Imperial academy, the life he had pictured for himself had been vastly different. Before he carried the weight of the innocent and the dead. He would make some high rank and have a cushy life as an officer. There had even been a pretty girl back then he used to know. But she was dead now, just like everything else he'd ever wanted.

So, with no purpose, he wondered. Once in a while he picked up a paying job here or there that didn't involve dodging the authorities. He did some work for a mechanic on Tatooine, shuttled paying individuals around now and then. Mostly, Migs searched for purpose. It was too bad the war was over. He thought he might be great at being 'rebel scum.'

Somewhere near nine standard months after he'd earned his freedom, he found himself in old Hutt space. It was an area he tended to avoid for obvious reasons, but his most recent customer had paid well. After so long without running into anyone he knew from either past life, he felt comfortable enough stopping off at an old dive before he left.

It had been an uncharacteristically naive mistake.

The burn from his first drink that tickled his nose and watered his eyes hadn't even abated when he heard a familiar voice.

"Migs Mayfield. Funny running into you here. Just the man I needed."

Fighting to keep the cringe he felt from his face, Migs took another swig of his drink and swiveled around on his barstool. "You got the wrong guy, sweetheart. Migs Mayfield died nine months ago in a mine explosion on Morak. My name's Jim, and I'm not interested."

The playfully predatory grin the nightmare of a Twi'lek wore unsettled him more than he would ever admit. Before he could side step her, she was in his space, pointed teeth flashing.