Balance || The Mandalorian [ON HIATUS]

✦ Two

Mando's POV

 It was her. 

I knew it before Greef Karga said her name; before she introduced herself. There was no forgetting those piercing e/c eyes, the arch of her brows, the tilt of her head.  Unable to speak right away, I simply nodded at y/n and shook her hand. 

I was glad for the helmet that obscured my face in times like these.

We strode through the bustling marketplace of the town, filled with shopkeepers selling goods and customers of all species haggling for them. Barely noticing the familiar route, I found myself becoming preoccupied with my thoughts.

Do I tell her?

It's against the Creed.

Should she be an exception?

Don't forget what you owe the Mandalorians.

I can't ignore the Creed for my best friend... right?

"Right."

She turned to me and furrowed her brows, confusion laced in her expression. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Um, ok."

Pushing my thoughts away, I focused my attention on the task ahead of us and what it might entail.

After making our way through the backstreets of Nevarro, y/n and I passed through the  shadowed doorway of the hidden address our client was located in. Darkness consumed us as the door slid shut ominously. 

"Fun place," I heard her mutter sarcastically. She hasn't changed a bit.

A box-like droid led us to another dimly lit door at the end of the hall.  It slid open, revealing six stormtroopers in stained armor and an elderly man sitting at a desk. We stepped into the room as the man spoke. 

"Greef Karga said you were coming."

We moved further into the room and the stormtroopers parted to make way for us. I noticed y/n darting her eyes around the room, her gaze lingering on the mysterious crates and barred windows.

"What else did he say?" I questioned.

The man fixated his stare on her. She returned it without blinking, her e/c eyes boring into his cold ones.

"He said you two were the best ones in the parsec."

"Is that all?" she scoffed. I could tell she was irritated by the man's demeanor.

Without warning, a door opened behind us and a man walked in. I readied my pulse rifle in a flash, then looked over to see that y/n had done the same with a blaster in each hand. 

"No!" The new man covered his face with his hands.  Instantly, the stormtroopers had their blasters pointed at us. 

"Freeze!" 

"Drop your weapons!"

"Who are you?" y/n demanded with a sideways glance at the client.

"No, no, no, no. Pardon. Uh, sorry." stuttered the younger man. "I- I didn't mean to alarm."

The client stood and began to walk over to us.

"This is Doctor Pershing. You must excuse his lack of decorum. His enthusiasm outweighs his discretion. Please, lower your blasters." 

I looked at the unwavering stormtroopers. "Have them lower theirs first." 

"We have you six to two!"

"I like those odds," commented y/n and I simultaneously. Unbeknownst to her, I raised an eyebrow.

The client stepped even closer to us. With a pointed glance at her, he said, "He also said you were both expensive. Very expensive. Please sit. "

Y/n hesitated, then lowered her blasters. She motioned to me to do the same. We reluctantly sat opposite to the client.

He placed two objects covered in a black cloth in front of us. He unwrapped the cloth, revealing two bars of steel with six-pointed stars on them .

"Is that-"

"Beskar?" we questioned.

"Go ahead. It's real."

Y/n looked to me for confirmation, her eyes wide. I picked up the cool metal and ran my thumb across it.

"This is only a down payment. I have a camtono of Beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the asset. You are free to split it as you wish."

"Alive." Doctor Pershing interjected.

"Yes. Alive." The client leaned forward. "Although I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee."

"That is not what we agreed upon," said the doctor. 

"I'm simply being pragmatic." 

"Let's see the puck." 

"I'm afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement." Y/n leaned forward, curious. "We can only offer you a tracking fob."

Doctor Pershing placed the fob on the table. 

"And the chain code?" y/n requested, beating me to it.

"We can only provide the last four digits."

"Their age? That's all you can give us?" I asked, incredulous. 

"Yes. They are 50 years old. We can also give you the last reported positional data." He leaned further forward. "Between that and the fob, a team of your skills should make short work of this," challenged the man.

It was almost as if he was mocking us. 

We stood up, not wanting to be in the man's sinister presence for longer than necessary. 

"You'll get your bounty," y/n affirmed. 

As we turned to leave, the client spoke. "That Beskar belongs back in the hands of Mandalorians. It is good to restore the natural order of things after a period of such disarray."

Y/n stopped in her tracks, and after a moment, continued out of the door.

• • •

 **E/c = eye color**

A/n: I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for the reads, and leave your suggestions in the comments as usual.