Now far past the temperate forests of the Northern Jowl, a lone ranger making his way in the galaxy approaches a walled town through the rolling arid plains, the sun of Wastehaven high up in the skies and beating down unopposed on the avian. He stands out horribly in the field with his colours of brown and beige obvious against the golden yellows of the long grasses, and his faded black hat and shorts not doing what invisibility he had any favours against the worn path.

As the ranger approaches, the rustling of the grasses against the wind gets gradually replaced by the bustle of a reasonably busy town. The wooden palisade is reinforced with metal plating made of the corpses of starships long gone, and the local militia stood idly by, making only a cursory glance to the coming Ranger before resuming their boredom. He gets past the open gate without problem or delay and heads into an empty alleyway.

Out one of his pouches of his satchel he brings out a holoscroll, pulling apart the handles of the device until it refused to give any more and a colourful ethereal screen flickers to life. He takes one last study at the details and look of his target. Argac son of Evriyz. A Kukesi; a felid species from far beyond the local systems under the Wastehaven syndicates. Argac is a bounty hunter, just as the ranger. The bounty didn't say what he is wanted for, but that's just the business sometimes. At the end of the day, he's not here to question why, he's just here to answer.

Satisfied with freshening up his mind of his target, he heads back out into the streets of the town. He winds his way past the people going about their daily lives, keeping a close eye on each of them he passes in the search of his prey. He keeps his hand close to his homemade plasma pistol, resting in its plain leather holster, the wood grip warmed only by the sun. While his eyes dart around for his target, they meet with another's. He is found first.

Argac is certainly heading towards the bird as they lock eye contact and go to meet up with one another through the crowds. They were finally at a more personal distance, and the people around got the hint of what is about to go down, scattering and clearing the short street. The local militia just keeps their distance, ready to intervene if the situation gets out of control and starts harming anyone else. The two just stare each other down. No words exchanged. Just a silent confrontation between hunter and prey. The Kukesi's own arm of defense reveals to be a kinetic pistol as he pulls away his robe like curtains, ready to duel.

It was quick and professional, over in moments. No personal sentiments, just how the money kept flowing. The ranger takes a picture of the quarry to confirm his gig's been done for the promised payment. Barely enough to buy him a couple of meals and a night's stay somewhere acceptable. He grabs a swig of water before he heads out on the road again, not wasting any time leaving the town. The sun barely moved in the sky from the time he entered the town as the ranger is once again immersed in the sounds of the gentle wind against the long grass, holoscroll open, and another payday lined up.