ash'ad | the mandalorian

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CHAPTER ONE: THE MANDALORIAN

His beskar armor clanked as he walked calmly down the long tunnel. No one would guess how alert he was by the pace of his steps, but he took in every stimulus as he passed. He was used to being stared at, so much so that the feeling didn't bother him anymore. The reputation of a Mandalorian held up; especially on a planet like Nar Shaddaa.

The notorious moon was nicknamed the "smuggler's moon" after all the lowlifes that make their living off of swindling and stealing. They were thieves, and the Mandalorian hated that. Any man that earns a living dishonorably, and smugglers certainly did that, deserves what's coming to them.

His strides stayed at a steady pace as his tracking fob increased in frequency. He reminded himself to stay on high alert as he entered a circular cutout in the wall, leading to one of the many nightclubs in the city. As he rounded the corner, he sighed at how many people were filling the open space. Crowds were always an issue on jobs like these, but in general, Mando didn't care for them.

Thinking of all the unpleasant places he had visited before, his mind flashed to his past companion, but only briefly. The pain he felt at letting the child leave all those months ago was still raw, and he refused to let it hinder his work.

With his shoulders squared and helmet intimidating, the people gathering in the center of the room quickly stepped out of the way. Whispers filled his ears as everyone gawked at him from a distance. To say his appearance was noticeable was a huge understatement given that the Mandalorian culture was mostly extinct. Many couldn't say they'd ever met one and still be alive to say so.

The fob in his hand was beeping more rapidly with every step, its red-light flickering like a strobe. He looked up to take in more of his surroundings and caught a glimpse of the holographic women dancing on metal poles. Without much thought, he averted his eyes, knowing better than to objectify them, and frankly having little interest.

"Hey Mando!" a male voice called. Immediately, he turned his head towards the sound of the noise, resting his hand firmly on his blaster. He recognized the common nickname for his people instantaniously, but as he looked closer, he noticed something alarming.

With his boots glued to the marble floor beneath him, he fixated his eyes on another helmet, matching his in structure. There was another Mandalorian in the club, and judging by their size, he could tell it was a woman. She was mirroring a stance very similar to his own, preparing to defend herself. His eyes immediately flicked to a group of dathomirian men as they approached her, blasters drawn menacingly.

Feeling a surge of energy, he sprung into action, hurrying across the bar to where an altercation had already broken out.

"Move!" he yelled, pushing through the crowd. Screams of unsuspecting people rang out as he rushed by, knocking over drinks and tables in the process.

The woman had drawn her blasters, shooting the first man to approach in the chest. He should have fallen by then but he was much stronger than she was, and quickly fired a shot against her. Her armor clanged at the contact and Mando sped up as he neared her, fearing she would be killed before he could get there.

Suddenly, he watched as a cable, similar to his own was launched from the woman's wrist and wrapped around her opponent tightly. She spared him no second glance before delivering a swift bullet to his head, making his body go limp. As Mando finally reached her, she had retracted her cable back from the dead man and quickly looked up, meeting his eyes through the visor.

She nodded once before returning to the fight, punching the second dathomirian in the face while he grabbed at her. The club had cleared out some by now, but most stayed to see who the victor would be.