Mos Espa had once been a glorious haven of scum. Jabba the Hutt had ruled over it with an iron fist, pumping out bounties on poor, unsuspecting spice runners. And then he was killed a little before the fall of the First Empire. Now, Mos Espa was a small, insignificant city, only visited by bounty hunters.

That's why, when Roman flew Marvel around, looking for a landing bay, many people had pointed and chattered about the expensive New Republican ship. Logan disembarked first, quickly making his way to a worker on sight. Patton bounced over happily and Roman allowed himself a minute or two to truly admire the beauty of his new ship. Marvel really was a wonder, with incredible speed, although not nearly as fast as Disney had been. He was more iconic, though, with heavier armour.

Leaving his awestruck inspections for later, Roman quickly sauntered over to his friends, who were bargaining with the worker.

"Please, mister, could you just top him up on fuel?" Patton asked. "We're on official New Republican business."

The worker seemed unmoved by this. "I might. If you pay me up front."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "New Republican protocol clearly states that we pay you after you fill up our vessel."

"Yeah, but Tatooine's neutral, innit? We don't give a crap about your protocol." The worker saw F-2 waiting inside the ship obediently. "How much for the droid?"

Roman suddenly straightened up, tensing. "My droid is not for sale. He is my property and a symbol of my rank in the New Republic."

"Again, Tatooine isn't a part of your glorified New Republic, kid!" Spat the worker.

"Look, mister," Patton said with a sigh that made Logan and Roman widen their eyes. When Patton sighs like that, you know to just agree. "We need this ship filled up. We are only searching for some people, we have no need to stay here longer than necessary. If you fill up our ship, we'll pay the agreed amount and I'll even improve your old BB unit."

The worker tilted his head back thoughtfully. "You an engineer, then?"

"I work at the New Republican headquarters as a First Rank engineer," Patton replied sternly. "I'm one of the best you'll ever get."

The man smirked. "Name's Dom. Fine, I'll fill up your ship and I won't even touch your droid. If you could give my old BB unit a wash too, I'll clean up your fancy ship. What model is it?"

"An MA-7. Logan responded. "A ship of my own design, modified to suit our pilot." He gestured to Roman.

Dom nodded slowly. "You're pretty cool kids, I guess. Who are you looking for?"

Patton glanced up at Roman who shrugged in response. "The general never said we had to keep it secret. You can tell him." Roman said.

"We're looking for three men, around our age. The most iconic one has scales covering half of his face. Do you know anyone like that?"

Whatever reaction they expected and whatever emotion they predicted, it wasn't this. Doms' face cracked fearfully before morphing into anger, shifting into horror before finally settling on a scared, uncertain expression. "You won't get anyone willing to help you here," He promised darkly. "We don't wanna get on the wrong side of those three and, mark my words, neither does your New Republic." He pulled away from the three men, slapping his hand on his leg as his BB unit rushed over. "Get out, I'll clean up your ship. You've told me nothing about them three, you got it?"

"O-Of course, yes, mister," Logan glanced at his companions as Dom speed-walked away. "Do you know where we can start? How we could contact someone who knows them?"

"No one knows them!" Replied Dom, shaking his head. "If they hear you wants them, they'll come to you! Nobody can find them if they don't wants to be!"

.:*:.

Everyone responded the same. The New Republicans had visited a bar first and the atmosphere had been as friendly as it could when the only tenants were spice runners, bounty hunters and local employers.

The bartender had been surprisingly warm when they first entered, although it was obvious he only wanted them for the money. He'd constantly allude to a drink or two, asking them if he could get them anything or questioning if they felt  'hungry enough for some dried womp rat meat'.

When Logan inquired about the man with the scales on his face, the bartender had paled and the bar fell quickly quiet.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know anyone of that description and I don't know anyone who hangs around with him! I cannot help you!" He assured, staring around fearfully.

Roman sighed, turning to face the now silent bar. "Does anyone know whom we speak of?" Nobody spoke and the pilot exhaled sharply. "C'mon, we'll ask somewhere else, guys." He said, beckoning for his friends.

The chatter didn't resurface once they'd left, not for a while. But, tucked away in the corner, some men in old, dirty, white armour stood. They had large white helmets on their heads, but all were mismatched and none were even remotely similar anymore. They looked like stormtroopers and they moved, snake-like, to the bartender who whitened even further.

One spoke in a distorted voice. "If we were searching for men of that description, where would be our best lead?"

"I-I can't help you-"

Another lifted an old, battered imperial blaster.

The first speaker sounded victorious as he responded. "We think you can. Give us a lead or we'll slaughter this place."

.:*:.

"We're being followed," Roman muttered as they walked away from their sixty-fourth disappointment. The sun had set a while ago, leaving the desert planet cold and dark. The three moons were high in the sky, stars littering the black, black world above.

"Very well done, Nova. I mentioned that earlier and you ignored me." Logan hissed.

Roman shot him a glare. "If you'd let me finish, I'd say we're being followed by people in stormtrooper armour."

Patton gasped quietly as he knocked on a door. "But the Empire is dead!"

"Rebels," Whispered Logan, the three quickly shutting up as the door opened.

They asked their inquiries but were shut down again.

The person they spoke to was a female. She spoke in a crazy, popping language and an old translator droid said. "My mistress says she has no idea who you mean. That boy hasn't been round since his friend dropped off some spice. Nobody knows where they are and they certainly won't show themselves to someone like you!" The woman snarled rudely as the droid continued. "So, good day!" And the door slammed in their faces.

"Honestly!" Huffed Patton. "Show some respect!" He crossed his arms with a pout. "We're not being rude or anything..."

"I don't think we're going to get anything here," Logan sighed. "The residents don't want to communicate."

"Because you're taking the wrong approach!" Cried a distorted voice from behind them. "Turn around with your hands behind your head and no one will get hurt!"

Roman closed his eyes impatiently, opening them up at the sky before placing his hands against the back of his head, walking slowly in a circle until he faced a small ragtag group of stormtroopers. His friends did the same.

The stormtrooper in the centre of his friends was holding the most intact blaster. Obviously, the captain of this 'squadron' judging by the fact he had a bloody handprint on his left eye. "Are you the New Republican Sith Hunters?"

"Now, gentlemen, I'm sure we can talk through this," Roman said slowly, nudging Pattons' heel with his ankle. Patton nudged back. "I love your costumes, by the way!"

That visibly struck a nerve and a few stormtroopers gasped. "These are not costumes!" Spat the captain. "This is our official dress, for we are stormtroopers of the Galactic Empire!"

Roman tilted his head. "They look like you got them from a scrap pile."

"I believe they have, judging by the smell and state of them," Commented Logan.

Now that their intimidation plan was failing, the stormtroopers seemed to grow angry. The captain fired his blaster between Logans' and Romans' head in a weak attempt to threaten them. "Enough stalling! Tell us, are you the New Republican Sith Hunters-?!"

Patton hurled a tiny pellet at them that exploded into smoke at their feet. The three squatted down quickly as the stormtroopers fired blindly where their heads had been just a moment ago.

"We split!" Hissed Roman. "Logan, you go with Patton! We'll meet up back at Marvel!" Logan and Patton nodded firmly, scuttling across the ground until away from the blaster fire enough to stand and run.

The smoke was clearing just as Roman had crawled far enough way to begin to sprint. Stormtroopers were on him in an instant, chasing after him as they sloppily fired their blasters. Roman shot quickly over his shoulder, trying hard not to give a whoop of victory when one went down.

He charged as fast as he could, sprinting around a corner when he crashed into someone running at an equally fast speed on a doorstep. The two grabbed each others' forearms to stabilize before glancing up and meeting each others' eyes. The person before Roman was male, scrawny and smaller than the New Republican pilot. The boy turned around when blaster fire was seen from the corner he'd just turned and Roman recognised that it was a stormtrooper blaster firing.

"You running from stormtroopers too?" He asked breathlessly.

The boy shrugged. "You could put it like that!" He gasped and the two dived into the door, shutting it just as the two seperate stormtrooper parties rounded the corners.