WIRED, d. djarin ¹

01.2

⠀⠀⠀ Astute. "And if I do?" he hollers. There, a gleam from across the dying fire, a twitch of movement.

⠀⠀⠀ "I destroy it instead of you."

⠀⠀⠀ Well, not much lost to the wind that time.

⠀⠀⠀ Mando drops into the shadows as blaster fire echoes in the dingy alley.

⠀⠀⠀ The dark, billowing snow envelops him with its cold embrace, and he watches the shadowy figure in front of the fire with careful eyes. For a split second, she stands there, arm outstretched, gloved hand still gripping the blaster with shaking fingers. It strikes Mando that she is not she is not old enough to be alone like this, that she is scared, and that she regrets killing him.

⠀⠀⠀ A split second, a single moment.

⠀⠀⠀ Then it seems she registers that there is no body, and the smallness vanishes. Her eyes steel, and her hand steadies on the blaster.

⠀⠀⠀ It is too late.

⠀⠀⠀ The howling wind masks his footsteps, the swirling snow the gleam of his rifle, and before she has time to disappear again, his rifle is trained on her heart.

⠀⠀⠀ "You move, you die," he calls. "Understand?"

⠀⠀⠀ "Prove it," the thief spits.

⠀⠀⠀ The challenge is obvious, and Mando is happy to comply. He shifts slightly, and fires the rifle. A flash, a bang, and the ground at her feet was a smoking crater.

⠀⠀⠀ "You make a compelling argument," the thief says bitterly. Mando doesn't miss the edge to her voice. His finger tightens on the trigger again, and he begins to stalk towards her through the snow.

⠀⠀⠀ Above them, the wind stills for a moment, its roar abating and the snow swirling away. In its absence, Mando watches the thief's eyes find him. Her lip curls, and she spits on the ground.

⠀⠀⠀ "I thought the oh-so-mighty Mandalorians were dead with their planet," she says. Her voice is as cold as her eyes, cold as the blizzard around them, as the empty void of space.

⠀⠀⠀ "You thought wrong," is Mando's quiet response. He keeps his voice as stony as hers, and sees her eyes kindle with ice blue fire.

⠀⠀⠀ "I can see that," she spits. "I'm crikking honored." She holds her blaster loosely at her side, a stance that might deceive some, but not Mando. He tilts his head.

⠀⠀⠀ "Drop the blaster," he says calmly.

⠀⠀⠀ The thief's shoulders stiffen and her eyes flash. That blue flame flickers, flares in the dying firelight around them, and the blaster remains firmly in her grasp,

⠀⠀⠀ Mando sighs. "Let me rephrase: you have three seconds to drop the blaster."

⠀⠀⠀ "Wai-"

⠀⠀⠀ "Three."

⠀⠀⠀ Her hand trembles, the determination in her gaze flickering doubtfully. Still, she does not drop it.

⠀⠀⠀ "Two."

⠀⠀⠀ A thought flashes through Mando's mind, a surprising realization: he does not want to kill this thief, this child who should be eating a warm dinner with loving parents, not standing alone to face death.

⠀⠀⠀ He grits his teeth, and prays that he does not have to kill her.

⠀⠀⠀ "On-"

⠀⠀⠀ Before the final syllable has left his lips, the thief lets the blaster fall to the ground. It lands silently. Her shoulders slump, and the fire is nothing more than a dull spark in her eyes.

⠀⠀⠀ Mando does not trust her. When she steps forward, he levels the rifle with her eyes. "Stay where you are," he warns quietly, "and keep your hands where I can see them."

⠀⠀⠀ The thief complies. Mando cuffs her hands, then mounts his speeder. He rides slowly, keeping the business end of his bayonet trained on the thief. Then they're making their way back toward the ice, toward the Crest, toward his credits in Nevarro.

⠀⠀⠀ Eventually, the buildings fall away behind them, and the icy emptiness of the blizzard looms in front. It's only then that Mando allows himself a flicker of satisfaction, dull as the dying spark in the thief's eyes.

⠀⠀⠀ And it's then that the thief attacks.

.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.

writing Mando chapters are so weird.

like he's this badass hunter,
and i don't know directions to the nearest walmart.

i cannot imagine his mental thought processes.