.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.
⠀⠀⠀ EITHER MANDO HAS underestimated how fast he is gaining or the thief has stopped, because the tracking fob is blinking faster and faster. It's also very possible that the thing is broken, in which case he's zooming across a literal ocean of ice for no reason.
⠀⠀⠀ Then again, he can see a faint heat signature against his visor, so he has to be somewhat on the right track. At least, that's what he tells himself.
⠀⠀⠀ He sighs. The storm around him is cold and biting, he has the blissful luck to be chasing some thief across the ice instead of collecting credits on Nevarro. Figures.
⠀⠀⠀ Something's wrong.
⠀⠀⠀ The thought is not much more than a whisper, but Mando instantly comes alert. It takes him approximately half a second to figure out what's going on: the thief's heat signature is becoming clearer and clearer, far too quickly.
⠀⠀⠀ He's left with two possibilities, both somewhat concerning. Either the thief has stopped, which suggests a crash. Or, the thief is speeding toward him. He hopes it's the first, but as if on cue, a shadow looms out of the snow, only a cubit or two away.
⠀⠀⠀ Surprise scatters his wits, and for a single, terrible second, he's frozen. Then panic returns his nerves, and he yanks his speeder away. His weight shifts. The thief shoots past, close enough for him to catch a glimpse of dark eyes, cold as the belly of the void.
⠀⠀⠀ Then he's weightless, flying through the air, the ground swallowed by the sky, the sky by the ground. The world's white, blue, gray, white, blue, gray, over and over again until he slams into the ice.
⠀⠀⠀ The impact jars the air from his lungs and his vision swims. He's glad for his helmet, and that's his last thought before his vision goes dark.
⠀⠀⠀ WHEN MANDO WAKES, the world is lost in the blizzard.
⠀⠀⠀ He takes inventory of his body. Nothing is broken, but he'll probably have several nasty bruises. His head throbs, and he wishes he'd anticipated the thief's move quicker.
⠀⠀⠀ He's lost his advantage too. Mando can't see the thief's heat signature anymore; she's long gone. Then he realizes that he cannot see any heat signature, and he sighs.
⠀⠀⠀ The button he presses clicks, and he waits.
⠀⠀⠀ Nothing.
⠀⠀⠀ That's not good. He tries again, with the same result.
⠀⠀⠀ "Wonderful," he sighs.
⠀⠀⠀ Another item for his list of delights is the fact that his speeder is also gone, swallowed by the blizzard. All around him, the world is white and gray. Gusts of wind billow around him, buffeting his body and roaring in his ears.
⠀⠀⠀ He sighs again, and starts walking.
⠀⠀⠀ IRONICALLY, IT IS the wind that saves Mando. In one of its lulls, he catches a glimpse of his speeder, barely visible. Then the wind pours snow between them again, and Mando fixes his eyes on the spot, even as it vanishes. A minute later, he nearly falls over it.
⠀⠀⠀ He rights the speeder and begins zipping back toward the town. There are dangers around him, Mando knows, and he keeps his eyes open and ears pricked. A good thing too, because it takes him a second to register splintering ice.
⠀⠀⠀ He doesn't bother looking down, just swerves away from the jagged gash in the ice. And not a second too soon; behind him, a ravinak erupts out of the ice, its massive jaws snapping shut where he was a second ago. Shards of ice shoot out, pinging off his beskar, and freezing water pours down the cracks in his armor.
⠀⠀⠀ Mando grits his teeth as the ravinak crashes down again, spraying him with more icy water. He begins to zigzag across the frozen sea. Behind him, the ravinak bellows in rage. Then the town looms out of the snow, and he's zipping between buildings.
⠀⠀⠀ HE'S THANKFUL FOR the tracking fob, because without it, Mando would be lost. The buildings form a ghost town, a silent, snow-cloaked maze that he doesn't trust. Several times, the fob begins blinking slower, and he turns until it begins picking up its pace again.
⠀⠀⠀ He wonders if - hopes that - the thief has crashed somewhere, and he can just cart her off to the Crest. That would be lovely.
⠀⠀⠀ But Mando is not an optimist, and he laughs at himself beneath his helmet.
⠀⠀⠀ He's laughing less when the fob begins blinking furiously, and he finds the wreckage of the thief's speeder. It's crashed into a wall, and there really isn't much left. Where its remains burn, the snow has melted, leaving a halo of warmth and no sign of a body.
⠀⠀⠀ Unbelievable. He's beginning to understand this kid's track record.
⠀⠀⠀ He steps back, looking for footprints, an indent in the snow, anything to tell him where the thief has vanished to. But if there was any sign of it in the first place, it's gone now, wiped away by the screaming wind.
⠀⠀⠀ He does not relax. The fact that the fob is still blinking madly means that she's nearby, and Mando doesn't know where.
⠀⠀⠀ He slings his rifle off his back.
⠀⠀⠀ Bang.
⠀⠀⠀ He's familiar with the sharp rapport of a blaster, muted as it is by the snow, but he's not familiar with not being able to see where it came from. The blast hits him hard in the shoulder, and he stumbles back.
⠀⠀⠀ In an instant, his rifle is on his shoulder, safety off. A few extra credits aren't worth his life.
⠀⠀⠀ The fire at his back begins to die in the cold wind, the shadows lengthening and dancing wildly across the blowing snow. He waits, watching for any flicker of motion in all the white. Because in all the nothingness around him, someone is prowling.
⠀⠀⠀ He jerks around when he hears a voice behind him.
⠀⠀⠀ "...ando!" it shouts, and it is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mando's finger tightens on the trigger.
⠀⠀⠀ "..ive me... the tr... ing... ob!"
⠀⠀⠀ "I don't have it," he lies.
⠀⠀⠀ "...u're... ying."
⠀⠀⠀ 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.