chapter twenty four - act one AN EMPIRE NEVER FALLS
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Cool metal caresses the exposed wrists of Eden, the jagged bindings entrapping her hands in front of her. The gentle hand of Cara placed against the small of her back guides her forward, upholding the facade that Eden had been captured against her will. Her steps fall in line with the Mandalorian, who walks alongside her, his wrists, too, bound in the same manner. Greef wanders just steps in front of them, his gaze careful as they approach the city of Nevarro.
In the corner of Eden's eye, the glinting of a white armour catches. A tendril of violent hatred slithers around her heart, her jaw clenching taut as she withholds an outburst. But she forces her unyielding desire to fight into the darkness of her mind, the thought of the child, who's fate relies upon this mission's success, fueling her. Shifting her gaze only momentarily toward Din, she senses his eyes upon her from beneath his helmet. Her movements hidden to all those but him, she nods, assuring him she would not act out on impulse, not when something so important dangled within the balance.
Their pace slows as they approach the threshold into the city, the four are stopped by a pair of storm-troopers. One steps forth, moving to stand mere inches in front of Eden; having taken note of the anger brewing within her eyes. Their eyes level, he sizes her up, but Eden does not back down; silently returning his gaze. The storm-trooper huffs, realising his taunting would likely lead nowhere. Sending her a final look, he turns to Greef. "Chain code?"
"I have a gift for the boss," Greef tells him, gesturing toward the pair bound by the Mandalorian's handcuffs. A smile tilts the edges of his lips upwards, Greef putting forth his eerily charming facade in hopes not to create a scene.
The stormtrooper does not fall for his antics, his patience merely thinning. His voice icy growing icy, his request evolves into a harsh demand. "Chain code?"
A sigh slipping from his throat, Greef reaches into a pocket of his coat, sparing a quick, yet uneasy glance back at the three within his company. Offering a small card out to the storm-trooper, the Imperial takes it, scanning it over with a small device. Tuning out the incessant beeping that radiates from it, the storm-trooper's helmet tilts toward the Mandalorian, eyeing the metal-clad man. "I'll give you twenty credits for the helmet."
"Not a chance. That's going on my wall." A dry chuckle echoes from Greef, a feigned sense of pride radiating from his every word.
Seeing as the storm-trooper was distracted with scanning the identification, Din leans ever-so-slightly toward Greef. His voice lowered to a meagre whisper, he remarks, "On your wall?"
