ALL EYES TURN TO NAOMI AS SHE TRUDGES INTO THE BAR, BLASTERS AT EACH HIP AND A SCOWL ON HER FACE.
She shakes the melted snow from her jacket with a groan, vexed at how her damp hair clings to her neck. She can still feel the stiffness lingering in her joints from her last job as she saunters further into the bounty hunter hub.
It takes little time for her to spot guild leader, Greef Karga, sitting at his usual table. He counts credits and takes slow sips from the drink in front of him. When their eyes meet, he raises the glass in welcome.
"Ah, Naomi," he greets. He downs the rest of the glowing blue liquid before placing it on the table with a thud. "Quick work as usual."
An easy smile comes to the hunter's lips as she slides into the booth across from her boss. "What can I say? I'm that good." Her voice is friendly as she pulls out a tracking fob and pushes it across the table. Its blood-red light has burnt out, signaling another job finished.
He hums in agreement as he discards the tracker, ready to be wiped and reprogrammed for the next job. "I trust there was no trouble along the way?"
"None. I delivered the quarry straight to the warden, as requested. Now pay up."
Greef sighs as he places a couple of imperial credits in front of her. "You've gotta leave some work for the rest of the guild, you know."
She swipes the credits and stuffs them into her pocket. "Tell that to the bucket who keeps stealing my jobs."
"Who, Mando?" Greef questions. His lips twitch at the nickname she used, and he shrugs. "He's a fast worker, like you."
Naomi rolls her eyes and looks at her boss squarely. "He always takes the top-paying jobs. A girl's gotta eat."
He lets out a laugh. "What can I say? He's got an appetite."
A scoff falls from her lips as she leans back into the booth, ankles crossing under the table. "He's an asshole," she corrects. She can still remember the warmth she felt bloom in her chest the first time she saw him, with the sharp contours of his helmet and impenetrable black visor over his eyes. The first Mandalorian she saw in years. She can also remember how quickly that warmth turned ice cold when her paycheck began to dwindle. "I need my next job, Greef."
"Strictly business, huh? Well, you're in luck," He rummages through his pockets before finding what he's looking for. "These are just in." He places several pucks on the table, labeling each as he goes.
"More bail-jumpers?" Naomi heaves a disappointed sigh. "C'mon Greef. These are all cheap."
"It's all I have," he states. "Take it or leave it."
A sigh, then another, as she leans forward to inspect each puck. Without a ship, the most she can do is one or two bounties at a time—slow business for the hungry hunter. The jobs that lay before her are hardly worth the effort, though. One wouldn't even win her enough credits to pay for the ride.
Just as she opens her mouth to complain, the door to the bar hisses open, drawing the hunter's attention. Her lips form a thin line when she glances over her shoulder.
Speak of the fucking devil.
The Mandalorian himself saunters up to their table, covered head to toe in worn beskar. He ignores the countless stares from surrounding patrons as his emotionless helmet trails on their boss.
"You're back," Greef remarks, leaning comfortably into the booth. "That was fast. Did you catch them all?"
Without saying a word, the Mandalorian places a handful of tracking fobs on the table, each one representing a different bounty. Naomi feels herself frown at the sight.
"Good. I'll begin the off-load," Greef tells him with a nod. He calls out to another guild member in Huttese, telling them to gather the bounties from Mando's ship. Naomi listens quietly and the frown on her face deepens.
Of course, he has his own ship. Asshole.
Her face is taut with envy as the Mandalorian unhooks the rifle from his back and slides into the booth next to her. He recognizes her as one of the many members of the guild, well known for her record timing (second to only himself). She stiffens at his sudden closeness as he towers next to her, armor alone taking up half the booth. She does her best to ignore it as she watches Greef reach into his pockets for payment.
"Those are imperial credits." The Mandalorian's gruff voice purrs through his helmet when Greef placed them on the table. Naomi feels the words reverberate through her chest as she sits practically shoulder to shoulder with the armored hunter.
"They still spend," Greef assures, pushing the credits forward. Mando isn't having it. His hands stay where they were, stubbornly resting on the table despite the payment that lays before him.
"I don't know if you've heard, but the Empire is gone," he persists. A quiet groan leaves Naomi as she rolls her eyes. If he doesn't take them, she will. She hates the empire but hey, money is money.
"It's all I've got," Greef says firmly. The Mandalorian, still not satisfied, reaches for his bounties.
Greef is quick to catch his wrist. "Save the theatrics," he says almost desperately. He seems to regret his decision when the Mandalorian looks up at him, helmet tilting in dangerously. "Fine..." Greef surrenders. "I can do Calamari Flan, but I can only pay half." He places three new credits on the table, thick and foggy blue. It's a rare currency in this sector and one Naomi would love to get her hands on. Her eyes narrow. Greef only paid her in imperial credits.
"You've been holding out on me, Greef."
The Mandalorian's helmet turns to her briefly before looking back to their employer. "Fine," is all he says before his gloved hand reaches out. The tension disperses as he pockets the money, seeming satisfied. "What's next?"
Greef sighs before gesturing to the pucks on the table. "As I was telling Miss Armana..." Naomi listens quietly as he lists the various bounties she was studying moments ago.
The Mandalorian seems even less impressed than she was. "I'll take them all," he states and reaches to gather the lot of them.
Naomi's eyes widen as she snatches his arm and grips the armor tightly, careful to avoid the triggers she knows are hidden within. "I don't think so," she says, eyeing his helmet. The blank visor turns to face her slowly and he yanks his arm from her grasp. She has a strong grip; he'll give her that.
"She's right," Greef insists. "There are other members of this guild, and this is all I have."
The Mandalorian tilts his helmet as he watches their employer with sharp eyes. "Why so slow?"
"It's not slow at all actually. Very busy. They just don't want to pay guild rates."
Naomi scoffs. "No kidding," she laments, annoyance clear in her tone. Her recent jobs were all cheap and she's starting to feel the effects. In layman's terms, she's broke.
The Mandalorian sighs. "What's your highest bounty?"
Naomi's ears perk up at this.
"Not much," Greef tells them. "5,000."
She groans. Cheap.
"That won't even cover fuel these days," Mando gripes, sharing Naomi's distaste.
Greef hums in agreement. "There is one job..." He hesitates, eyes flickering between them. He knows a prize like this will be difficult for Mando to pass on. He also knows Naomi will fight for it. Literally. He watches her for a moment, noting how her brown eyes narrowed when the buzz of voices around them hush.
The Mandalorian's cool facade doesn't change. "Let's see the puck."
Greef sighs. "No puck. Face to Face. Direct Commission. Deep pocket."
"Underworld?" Naomi asks. There is a hint of excitement in her voice as she leans forward, interest piqued.
"All I know is no chain code," Greef answers. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the small device. "Do you want the chit or not?"
Naomi sends the Mandalorian a sideways glance as he considers it. Before he can reach for the chit, she snatches it up. His helmet cuts to her sharply as he catches her wrist. "Give it." The icy demand hisses through his helmet.
Naomi's lips turn up in a challenging smile. "No."
The Mandalorian doesn't say a word and tightens his hold on her. It isn't enough to harm her but she understood the warning regardless. Anyone else would likely cave at the pressure but Naomi's smile only widens.
"I'm willing to fight you for it." Her voice hums with excitement as she stares defiantly into the Mandalorian's visor. She looks straight through him and he finds that without the usual edge provided by his armor, he may have met his match.
Greef clears his throat, trying to diffuse the tension quickly and quietly. "I have a proposition," he says, gaining their attention. The Mandalorian turns his head, breaking the contact. He releases his vice-like grip on the woman's arm and it falls back on the table with a thud. "How about you work the job together? A partnership if you will."
"I don't do partners." He speaks the words before Naomi can. She shares the same sentiment, relying on others solely for transportation. Strictly business, nothing personal. That's the rule.
"Look," Greef begins. His voice drops to a whisper as he leans forward onto his elbows. "This is a high rate job. You're gonna need all the help you can get."
Naomi's face remains impassive as she mulls it over. It is the most logical solution. Besides, he does have a ship which she happens to be lacking.
The decision is made. "Fine. C'mon Shiny." She taps the chit against his helmet roughly, relishing in the clinking sound it makes. The Mandalorian watches in silence as she stows the necessary device inside her jacket pocket and waltzes out of the base, not bothering to wait for him. He curses lowly before getting up to follow.
Greef sends him a wave. "Have fun."
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The two hunters make their way through the crowded town in silence. Naomi glowers at the dim streets and its crumbling houses, infested with scum and criminals. A scowl rests on her lips, deterring any and all patrons that look their way. Other than being a bounty hunter hub, the lava-infested planet was a magnet for black market trading and other shady businesses.
"God, I hate this place," she hisses. Her back is rigid as she shoves her hands into the hidden depths of her pockets. Shiny beskar tilts in her direction as the Mandalorian turns to her. Her nose is scrunched as they pass the lines of booths, each giving off its own foul (and some illegal) stench. He says nothing as they continue their trek to the address Greef provided.
The crowds slowly dwindle as the two hunters travel down the maze of alleyways. The walls on seem to close in on them, narrowing with every turn. Naomi gives a sigh when they travel the final stretch between two slanted buildings, reaching a rusted door with chipping paint. It's centered on a gray wall, stained with rust runoff and blaster residue. Her lips pull back into a grimace. "Nice place."
The Mandalorian ignores the comment and turns to her with his palm open. "Give me the chit."
She sends him a look. "No," she says shortly as she pulls it from her pocket. She ignores his hidden glare as she lands a series of heavy knocks on the steel.
A hatch, small and round, opens a beat later and allows a weathered droid to peek through. It beeps at her in a gruff alien language. She sends Mando a brief glance before holding the chit up for it to scan. It shuts itself back inside almost immediately.
The steel door slides open, grinding on rusted gears, to reveal a dark hallway. Naomi feels a chill down her spine as she peaks inside and she gestures forward. "Ladies first."
The Mandalorian sends the shorter hunter a pointed glare as he brushes past her. Her light footsteps are quick to follow and the door slide shut once again, locking them in. A square droid waits for them, beeping hesitantly before it turns and dawdles away. The two hunters share a brief glance before stepping after it. Paranoia burns in Naomi's stomach as she follows it down the shadowy hallway, closer and closer to the door that looms ahead. When the rusted entrance finally hisses open, Naomi struggles to hide her surprise.
Four stormtroopers stand guard on the other side. Their once pristine armor is cracked and caked with grime as they level their gaze on the two hunters. Naomi's brows crease with anger as she inspects the room, watching their gloved hands shift on their blasters.
Hatred surges through her veins, burning in her fingertips as they ghost over her own weapons on instinct. "Our client is an imperial?" she whispers through gritted teeth. It's quiet enough for only the Mandalorian to hear as all heads turn to face them.
He doesn't acknowledge her as he makes his way into the wide room. Naomi is reluctant to follow, lingering for only a moment to stare into those black, lifeless visors, before stepping in after him. The door is quick to slide shut behind her and the loud sound echoes painfully in her ears as she's trapped with what she considers evil incarnate.
"Greef Karga told me you two were coming," a ghostly voice announces. It sends an abrupt chill down Naomi's spine and her eyes sweep the room for the source. A man sits behind a sparse desk, guarded by the white-armored vermin. High quality robes drape over his shoulders while a golden medallion rests in the center of his chest. Deep wrinkles line his aged face and pull his lips into a permanent scowl.
The Mandalorian takes a step further into the room. "What else did he say?"
"He said you two were the best in the parsec." Cold eyes flicker between the two hunters, drinking in every detail. He eyes the beskar steel that dons the Mandalorian's broad frame, worn from years of battle before his eyes slide to Naomi. She is shorter but just as dangerous as her lithe figure carries an array of weapons, each with the intent to kill. His eyes flit up to her own calculating irises that observe him just as closely.
The man feels himself smile. Two perfect hunters.
Just then, another door hisses open and a squirrely man dressed in white steps through. His presence is sudden and unexpected, immediately sending Naomi over the edge. She acts on impulse, drawing a blaster from her hip with startling speed. The Mandalorian, just as surprised, shifts to bring himself back to back with the shorter hunter as she aims her blaster. He could feel her rushed heartbeat through the beskar as he pushes firmly against her, grounding the both of them as he pulls his own weapons.
The stormtroopers are quick to respond. "Freeze!" One yells as they raise their blasters.
"No!" the thin man shrinks away immediately, cowering at the sight of Naomi's blaster trailed on him.
"Drop your weapons," another trooper warns.
Naomi grits her teeth and pulls her second blaster, pointing it at the nearest trooper. Beskar digs into her skin as she pushes firmly against her only ally in the room.
"No, no, no. pardon. Uh, sorry," the man stammers as he waves his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to alarm." He swallows thickly when Naomi's blaster doesn't move.
"This is Dr. Pershing." The client's ghostly voice introduces as he stands from his seat. He remains calm despite the chaos as he rounds the desk to face the defensive hunters. "Please excuse his lack of decorum. His enthusiasm outweighs his discretion... Please. Lower your blasters."
"Have them lower theirs first," Mando responds without hesitation.
Naomi hears a scoff leave one of the troopers' helmets. He shifts his feet when her blaster aims for the soft spot under his chin. "We have you outnumbered four to two."
"I like those odds." Confidence rolls of the Mandalorian as his helm tilts in the trooper's direction.
The client takes a step closer, eyeing the Mandalorian's visor. "Karga also said you were expensive. Very expensive." He turns to Naomi. "Please sit."
The client returns to the table, motioning for the troopers to lower their weapons with the simple flick of his wrist. Naomi waits a beat before lowering her own and feels the Mandalorian shift as he does the same. She follows his stride to the unoccupied chairs in front of the weathered desk.
Naomi sits on the edge, ready to spring at any moment as she crosses her arms over her chest. She forces her body to relax, matching the Mandalorian's calm example as he settles next to her.
Both hunters tense when the client moves, reaching for a small bundle. In slow movements, he places the dark fabric in front of the Mandalorian and unfolds it piece by piece to reveal the shiny center. Naomi's eyes widen in surprise.
"Beskar?" she breathes.
The Mandalorian's helmet tilts the tiniest bit in her direction, surprised she knows what it is. Behind the visor, brown eyes fix on the woman's bewildered face, gauging her reaction carefully.
"Go ahead," the client urges him. "It's real."
Mando picks it up gingerly, cradling in it his palm like shattered glass as he runs his gloved thumb over the imperial brand in the corner. Anger burns in Naomi's chest at the sight. This Beskar was looted in the Great Purge.
"This is only a down payment," the client assures. I have a camtono of Beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the asset." Naomi notices the subtle change in the Mandalorian's posture at the promise.
"Alive," Doctor Pershing adds hesitantly. He seems out of place as he fiddles with his hands, uniform crisp and pristine compared to the haggard troopers. Naomi's hard eyes glare in his direction and he flinches, eyes falling to his feet.
"Yes, alive," the client agrees, clearly vexed at the interruption. "Although I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee."
The doctor cuts in again. "That's not what we agreed upon!"
The look he receives from the Client is quick to silence him and he shies away, physically taking a step back. "I'm simply being pragmatic."
"Puck?" Naomi huffs, not interested in their bickering. "And my payment."
The older man turns to her with a look of disinterest, hooded eyes boring into her own. "Your payment?"
"I am not a Mandalorian. I have no use for Beskar."
The Mandalorian's gaze arches in her direction, brow creasing with worry at her bold declaration. Her stoic expression doesn't change as she rivals their client. She would never use beskar for currency. The precious metal belongs solely in the hands of a Mandalorian.
"So it would seem," the Client agrees, reluctantly. He places a small pouch in front of her, dark fabric tied by a leather string. She clicks her tongue in satisfaction when she hears the credits rustle inside. The down payment itself must be more than her last three jobs combined.
"As for the puck," the client continues, "I'm afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. We can only offer you a tracking fob." He waves his hand and Pershing steps forward with the tracking device. He brings it to the Mandalorian, who pockets it before Naomi can protest.
"What's the chain code?" he asks. He's ready to input the number in the device on his wrist, gloved finger hovering patiently.
The client deflects the question. "We can only provide the last four digits."
"Their age?" Naomi asks. Her eyes narrow as her suspicion flares. "That's seriously all you can offer?"
"Yes," the client says. "They're 50 years old. We can also give you last reported positional data. Between that and the fob, hunters of your skill should make quick work of this."
The hunters lapse into silence as countless questions and considerations buzz in their minds. Caution outweighs them all and a frustrated sigh leaves Naomi's lips. She reaches for her down payment before slowly rising to her feet. The Mandalorian stands to follow, nearly out the door when the client calls to him. His tone is teasing, making Naomi's spine straighten almost painfully.
"The Beskar belongs back into the hands of a Mandalorian. It is good to restore the natural order of things after a period of such disarray." The hint of a smile ghosts over his lips as he inclines his head at the senior hunter. "Don't you agree?"
Every fiber of Naomi's being coils when she hears the client's words. She is no stranger to the tragedy of the Mandalorians. Many have been killed over the years, she could attest to that. What little remained of their creed went underground, living a life of secrecy. The Mandalorian before her now is the first she's seen in over a decade. She only hopes he's better at handling his anger than she is.
The Mandalorian finds her eyes, wide with worry and—was that anger?
He says nothing, turning to leave down the dark hall with the billow of his tattered cape. Naomi lingers for only a moment, fighting the urge to release the dangerous fire of anger that roars within. She settles reluctantly for angered glare before following the hunter into the streets.
The Mandalorian had made it out first with quick, angered steps before waiting in seething silence. His visor is fixated on the door when Naomi ushers out. Her shoulders are pushed back, almost uncomfortably, when she steps out into the dull light. Nimble fingers fiddle with the hidden seams of her pockets as she bit her tongue. Anger nips at her, making her skin feel hot under the layers of clothing as she saunters to the Mandalorian. "So," she says. "What now?"
His helmet tilts in her direction, catching what little light Nevarro had to offer. "We do the job," he answers flatly. He shrugs off the wall, not waiting for her answer as he heads back into town and leaves her behind.
Naomi hums as she joins at his side, taking quick steps to match his long strides. "You know...you're kind of a dick."
"...I've heard." He finally slows his unforgiving pace when they reach a particularly crowded street. Naomi's nose scrunches as the nearby booth rotates a charred monkey-lizard on a spit. "Wait here," he demands.
She looks confused. "Why?"
"There is something I need to do before we leave."
She hums in speculation. "Fine."
He turns to walk away but stops when a small hand grips his elbow.
"Not so fast," Naomi says, pulling him back. She places her hand in front of him, palm up. "Give me the fob."
"What?" His voice is brittle, reflecting his clear vexation. He clearly does not have the patience nor temperament for partners.
Naomi folds her arms over her chest. "How do I know you're not ditching me?"
"How do I know you won't do the same?" His voice is defensive as he stares down at her.
"Well I might," she confesses. "If I had a ship, that is."
She hears a crumpled sigh leave his helmet's moderator as he reaches into his pocket. "You better be here when I get back," he warns, placing the fob in her hand.
A cunning smile unfurls on her lips when she slips it into her pocket alongside the chit. "We shall see."
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hi readers! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. please feel free to let me know your thoughts! I always love to read all your comments.