Chapter Text
Nevarro had never been a particularly friendly town, but today it seemed extra rowdy. Just on his way from port to the cantina Din had to decline participating in three fights. The atmosphere was violently unstable and Din could almost taste the blaster fire in the air, diplomacy and intimidation would only get him so far. There were too many crews showing up for payment … too much greed festering in one location.
Din Djarin had just returned from his latest mission for the guild, the hold of the Razor Crest was stacked to capacity with carbon freezing pods. It’s unfortunate habitants were contorted in their final throes. If he ever were to be captured alive, he hoped to stay still, at least to make a more dignified statue. Then again, keeping still and silently suffering his fate had never been the Mandalorian way.
He didn’t look forward to his meeting with Karga, the man reminded him of a Mon Cala eel. He was too slippery in his way of conversing, buttering up everyone around him. Greef Karga had twisted himself in so many ways, Din would be surprised if Greef could still unravel his truths from his lies.
Several crews celebrated their victory, the cantina was too small to hold them all and they spilled into the streets. Vultures attracted to the scent of money flocked, unaffiliated men and women tried to swindle the newly paid members out of their hard earned money. Din kept a tight grip on his purse and was happy he had updated the theft deterrent on the Razor Crest.
“Ah, Mando, my favorite associate,” Din rolled his eyes at the slimy introduction. Though he gladly suffered through Greeve Karga’s performance to collect his prize money and new pucks. The galaxy was at war, again, and the guild flourished from the amount of requests pouring in. Navarro would dry up should there ever be peace again.
Karga notified two underlings to load off the captured deserters from the Razor Crest. The majority of pucks contained deserters, Din would almost choose to go after something more challenging if only not to hear the same pleas over and over again. ‘Please, my family, you don’t know what the Empire makes us do,’ Din figured if they had been dumb enough to enroll in the Imperial Academy they should suffer the consequences.
In the end, the Mandalorian stuck with deserters. Din had just parted with a crew and no bounty in the universe could convince him to partner up with Xi’an again. The crew had been a good solution to guide him through his rookie days of bounty hunting. While Ran had been a prick, Din had to admit he learned a lot from him.
His newly acquired credits jingled audibly in his purse and the vultures swooped in. Din longed for the solitude of his ship, the sheer amount of people was suffocating.
He sidestepped two promiscuous Twi’lek women, and though they were no longer affiliated, Xi’an’s fierce jealousy still had a firm grasp on his mind. ‘She’d cut off my balls,’ rang as a clear warning through his head, as if she had programmed him.
He had to deter two more pickpockets before he made it to the Crest … Din was done with Nevarro. Greef’s goons stood next to his ship. The ship’s loading dock was the only part they had access to. Din checked their hands for scorch marks that betrayed a failed attempt at thieving, fortunately for them they were clean.
Din turned his back to the market square to supervise the offloading. The sheer volume of bar fights, yelling matches and music drowned out the person barreling towards him. It took quite some force to knock someone clad in beskar to the ground, but somehow they managed.
Din was fed up before and livid now, he huffed the dry Nevarro sand from underneath his helmet and reached for his blaster. The person who had knocked into him laid sprawled over in front of him, dazed. If this was planned, they were regretting life choices.
“Hey!” Din snapped. Greef’s men couldn’t be bothered to assist and resumed with offloading.
As soon as Din crawled to his feet his senses alerted him to more people running up behind him. The person sprawled in the dust scrambled for the bag they had been carrying.
Blue skin, Din noted. Twi’lek or Duros? His attention was needed elsewhere as five people ran up.
“Hey, you! Give us back our money!” they were either too intoxicated or too furious to be thinking clearly. Running with aimed blasters towards a Mandalorian was as close to a death sentence you could get.
Though Din wasn’t as blood thirsty as he liked people to believe and he hated thieves with a passion. He was about to step back and let the crowd perform their justice. Din had managed to keep his nose firmly in his own business and it had worked for him so far.
The hood fell off as the person jumped up. Dark blue hair whirled around and unsettling red eyes jumped between Din and the people running up. Chiss, Din thought, that was rare. There was a glint of menace in the woman’s eye before she declared. “Boss, boss, I got the loot like you asked!”
If he had been in a different predicament he would have rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Unfortunately for Din the others were too intoxicated or stupid and were fooled by the ruse.
“Get him!” bolts ricocheted off his beskar before Din could prepare a defense. One shot nicked an unprotected piece of skin between his beskar cuirass and Din’s patience snapped. The five men went down.
“Wow, you’re really strong.” He woman had the cheek to point out. She dusted herself off and shrugged the bag higher on her shoulder. Now that she wasn’t hunched over she was a tad taller than he was, as most Chiss were. Unconsciously Din leaned on his toes to gain a few inches of height.
“Get lost,” he bit and put his blaster back in the holster, though his hand hovered close by, in case she was up to more trouble. To Din’s surprise she turned her back to him while she eyed the Razor Crest. As far as he could tell she was unarmed.
“Oh, relax,” she waved off his threat, “I could use a good gunman, what are your rates?”
“I’m not interested,” Din was a bit insulted at cavalier attitude towards him, as if he wasn’t a threat to her. Her eyes fell to the last of the carbon freezer pods being unloaded and she whirled on him as if he had betrayed her.
“You are a bounty hunter?” she accused. Din didn’t respond, she huffed and he found himself get defensive, Who was she, a thief, to presume the moral high ground?
“Thanks for the assist bounty hunter,” She spat, “I hope our paths do not cross.” She strolled off and got into the ship docked next to his, he doubted it was hers.
That suited Din just fine, he’d be happy never to cross paths with that crazy Chiss ever again.