Real Work

The anticipation of ripping open the package snug between his vest and skin was burning through Boba Fett with an intensity that was making him almost reckless. He'd caught enough bounties just by recognising that furtive "look over your shoulder" nervousness, though, so he forced himself to walk a bit slower and look slowly from side to side of the road in challenge. The many eyes tracking him slunk slightly farther back into the shadows.

But the package had finally arrived. His fingers tightened on his blaster to stop the itch to press his chest and make sure it was still there.

Everyone knew he had a nose for quality, and more often than not had something good on him or a line on something good, which made following him worthwhile. Only newbie idiots took him on anymore, though, because no matter how many would-be thieves he'd blasted into smears across the quadrant's buildings, some cocky grunt always wanted to be the one to try take him down. Everyone else watched and waited for him to slip up. Something he was intensely vigilant would never happen.

So whenever Boba's personal packages came in, he employed Xansha to pick up and transport them safely. With his preferred courier off-planet until tomorrow, though, and Boba's meeting with Jabba for details on the latest bounties tonight, that only left this afternoon to get the package before Boba left. He wasn't willing to wait until he got back this time.

His heart rate picked up as Ninto's cantina came in sight.

Ninto has been his first handler after he'd woken up from the cloning process. No one paid Ninto much mind. He was just a grunt to them.

To Boba, though, Ninto had shown him life. Ninto read to him, explained philosophy, theology, strategy. Because Ninto believed Boba was more than a clone. Ninto believed Boba was a full-being in his own right. What's more, he got Boba to believe it too.

Boba pushed open the cantina door and stepped through. As his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim interior, the familiar smells of grime and the rotgut Ninto sold assaulted his nostrils. The pungent aroma of rotting garbage showed the trash compactor was out of commission again.

But that's how Ninto liked it. Meant the few patrons were the lowest, most desperate life forms who didn't care what swill Ninto served or the environment they drank it in. They just cared it was cheap, and that it kept coming.

Since it was common knowledge Ninto had Boba's protection, every now and then someone would try to shelter there. Ninto would call, and Boba would come collar the numbskull and collect the bounty on them or sell them to Jabba or whoever.

Boba nodded at his lifelong caregiver behind the counter who had started pulling Boba's drink from a tap as soon as he stepped through the door. By the time Boba had wound around the rickety tables, Ninto was just placing the tall glass on the sticky counter. As per usual, Ninto handed Boba a bowl of food.

With a nod, Boba took the bowl and glass and headed to the small private room in the back. The three regulars didn't even glance at him as he brushed past their tables.

Boba tipped up his helmet for the retina scan and quickly stepped through the door that slid open. The room was only five by five, big enough for a tiny table and two chairs.

When he pressed the button to close the door, he also hit another secret button that had been activated with his retina scan that started a holographic projection. He stepped to the side, presumably to go around the table and sit down, but in reality getting out of sight so his projected self went and sat down and began to eat and drink. The image would finish the meal, then tip the chair back against the wall and appear to go to sleep.

It was a ruse he and Ninto had come up with so Boba could pursue his secret passion.

Pressing another button concealed at the edge of the door, a panel slid up beside the far corner.

Just as with the holographic image, the panel activated only with Boba's or Ninto's retina scan on the room's main door.

They didn't know the repercussions of anyone finding out Boba's talent, but they weren't about to take any chances. They'd been hiding it and reaping the profits since the beginning.

Taking one large step sideways, Boba slipped through the panel and into the building next door, closing the doorway immediately behind him. Boxes of goods for Ninto's cantina and the small fortune worth of loot from Boba's bounty hunts were scattered throughout the warehouse shelving.

The far back corner had a couple of rooms Ninto used as living quarters, with an extra bed Boba would sometimes crash in.

Usually though, Boba would sleep in the one place in the galaxy where he could be himself. His workroom.

As he crossed to the living quarters, Boba downed the drink and set the glass on the only table. Twitching the paper out from under the snacks, he examined the paper Ninto had lined his bowl with.

It was full of random-seeming numbers and letters in an obscure pattern of loops and whorls. To Boba, it was a list of current business written in the code he and Ninto had developed back in the beginning when Ninto discovered his talent.

Boba read as he munched. There was another order for the Jabbas. He smiled, relishing the knowledge the Jabbas were his best customers for more than just bounties, and they didn't even know it. Several pieces had sold on new planets, with orders for more. Ninto had connections everywhere that were making them both very rich.

Boba did another retina scan in the panel beside the door then pressed another hidden switch that activated a trap door in the ceiling. A ladder descended, and Boba quickly climbed up, feeling the slight tingle as he passed through the forcefield that would only allow himself or Ninto through.

As his head cleared the forcefield that also kept smells at bay, something he had to thank the Yarrows on Biluoa for showing him, Boba closed his eyes and dropped his head back as he deeply inhaled the smells that fed his soul.

Paint and paint thinner, with the underlying smell of the different materials he used as canvas and frames. He'd be adding the shirt from his latest bounty to the pile of canvas materials. The inner turmoil he always felt settled with the first inhalation. This was the only place he ever felt any sense of peace.

Outside of here, the constant unspoken expectations of those he met weighed on him. Most of the time it was clear what people wanted. Sometimes though, he'd meet someone who would peer at him like he was some science experiment, and they were waiting for him to perform some trick. Those times sent him abandoning whatever chase he was on to come back here. He'd even given up a good lead on Solo once.

Scrambling out of the trapdoor, he closed it and surveyed his kingdom. The entire second floor had been cleared of walls to make one giant room. A room now stuffed almost to capacity with canvases standing in orderly rows. One half of the room had rectangles from small to very large filled with the riot of colour he used in his abstract paintings. Those rows gave way to others of blank canvases standing sentry, awaiting their turn to come to life beneath his brush.

Stripping off his pack, he pulled the hand-sized package free. As usual, it was addressed to Ninto. He fingered the waxy texture of the wrapping that Hoopin had secured it in. The waxy substance meant it wouldn't take paint well, but maybe he could stretch it out and use it as a rest for brushes while they dried.

Holding his palm flat, he balanced the package and held it level with his eyes. It was unbelievably thin for the wealth it held. His heart beat wildly in anticipation. It had taken months for this package to arrive. That was why he'd risked retrieving it himself instead of waiting for Xansha to get it tomorrow. If he'd waited, he wouldn't be able to sample the goods until he got back from whatever contract Jabba had for him today. This was one time he wasn't willing to be patient.

When Hoopin had shown had shown him this new paint, Boba was so excited he'd very nearly blurted it was for himself. Only having his helmet on meant the paint dealer didn't see the flash of excitement that Boba was sure went through his eyes. Within this tiny box were enough pigments to keep him going for months. It was small enough to take on his ship, so depending on how many canvasses he could get on board, he'd be able to paint while on bounty hunts. No more having to wait until he returned here.

Stripping off his armour, Boba donned a one-piece coverall and set an alarm for his meeting with Jabba. Bounty hunting was an occupation, but painting as his pseudonym Ba'tt was his real work. With a nervous step, he strode forward to begin.