The below is a bad idea. Humor me; it’s been a long week for me, and it’s not over yet.
If there is a Boba Fett movie, it should start with Fett crawling free from the Sarlacc’s maw. He treks across the desert and back to Jabba’s palace, or to Mos Eisley. He is initially motivated by revenge, wanting to track down Solo. But then he hears that Solo and Skywalker and the other Rebels have killed the Emperor, Vader, and most of the Empire’s top leadership. It’s all gone to shit, and with Jabba and Vader dead and the galaxy suddenly leaning toward the Alliance, Fett realizes he might be out of work–and might be a wanted man. It’s time to move on.
He jets off in Slave I to some beautiful wild world. Colonizes a strip of land. Eventually falls in love, marries, has a child of his own. He decides to raise this child right, won’t do what his dad did. He’s not training an heir, or a replacement, or a duplicate. He’s just trying to care for his own child.
Then something goes wrong. Some hunters show up, kill his spouse, take his child. He has to get the kid back, make things right. He hunts down the hunters and takes out the crime lord or noble who tried to take out the infamous Boba Fett. But he’s too late; he loses the child. Every last shred of hope and optimism he had is disintegrated. All he’s left with is the aged and scarred body of a bounty hunter whose achievements are more legendary than real.
And it’s at that moment that he briefly wakes again, to find it was all a hallucinogenic dream, that he’s still in the Sarlacc, being slowly digested.
Okay, okay, it’s derivative. It’s probably a little too grimdark for Star Wars. It would never happen that way. And if I really believed in the idea I’d actually develop it into a full fan fiction. But now it’s out there. The end.