mandalore martyr | mando x poe

23

Din studied his reflection, a blank expression staring back at him. An emotionless face, yet pools of intensity within his eyes. The grip at his helmet tightened. This one was different, with unfamiliar, clunky curves. It shone white, shoved into his hands moments prior by an irritated Rey.

With one final dart of his eyes in favor for the mirror, his hands gripped at either side of his disguise, moving to place it experimentally over his head. The limited vision wasn't new to him, just—different. He turned to the door of the ship's refresher, favoring to stay until they arrived at the Finalizer, but ultimately moving toward the cockpit.

The group of Poe's liberators eyed him through their stormtrooper helmets. Din's skin itches under the assessing gazes, disliking the fact that, they too, had helmets to hide under.

"Let's go through the plan again." Luke commanded the attention of the room, stepping forward. "Our men on the inside were using this ship to patrol the Abregado system. They were there to gather supplies." His hand gestured to a handful of large cases at their feet.
"These are illusion enough. Inside are our blasters and sabers." He reminded, turning to eye the stars ahead before looking back at the group.
"We know the general vicinity of Poe's location. The Mand'alor and Finn will find it. That's where they'll be improvising." He nodded to the two men, before turning to Rey. "The feanallay will be under close protection, most likely in the back of the ship, near Ren's quarters. Can you get me there?"

She nodded curtly as Chewbacca growled out a warning. The wookie put the ship into hyper-drive, moments later, the Finalizer came into view. Finn jogged over to the co-pilot's seat, hand hovering over the comm button.

"Lancer-027, status?" Crackled over the radio.

"Lancer-027, task secured. Permission to dock Finalizer." Finn spoke up, voice confident.

Din watched the ever nearing ship, it's cold exterior gave nothing away, but his eyes found themselves achingly going over every corner.

"Permission granted."

Finn slumped into his seat, letting a large breath leave his throat.

"That was the hard part." Luke muttered. "Now it's time for the harder part."

-

Din's footfalls were quiet, but quick, ultimately leaving Finn jogging to keep in step with him, toting the case of their weapons. The corridor held no one, surprisingly.

"I don't know if he's—" Finn began in a whisper.

The Mand'alor raised a hand quickly, still moving toward an unknown target. Finn shut up, albeit reluctantly.

Muffled groans of pain caused either of them to slow their steps to a walk.

"That's him." Finn gasped, breathing rapidly.

"You, stop!" A voice called out from behind them. Both froze, turning slowly. Din's gloved fist creaked, with no weapons on his person, he felt helpless.
"What are you doing in this area?" A man caught up to them. He had on a grey uniform, a lieutenant.

"Well, we—" Finn began.

"What are your numbers?" The man demanded, impatient.

"FN-2187, and this is—" Finn paused, causing Din to stiffen. The other man cleared his throat.
"This is FN-1526." He said finally.

"1526," The man began, voice unsure. "You're an older trooper. Normally they don't last that long." He raised his brow.

"Yes, sir." Din agreed, voice rough.

"Take off you helmet." The superior ordered, curiosity evident in his voice.

Din's hands reached to either side of the unfamiliar helmet, grip vice-like.