CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE KILL

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The Mandalorian hadn't felt powerless many times before

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The Mandalorian hadn't felt powerless many times before. There were times, like seconds before the Child saved him for the first time and when Moff Gideon had him and his friends surrounded. There were times he felt as if he was running out of chances; times when the odds weren't looking in his favor. Bleeding out of the back of his head and incapable of removing his helmet to get help was one of those times. Losing his parents and hiding away was one of those times.

But each time he was in a situation of hopelessness, something always went right. Until right now.

With his cheek pressed against the cool ground of the cell he had just been thrown in, he knew that he was hopeless. More hopeless than he had ever been. Somewhere in another room you were with Vinor Thriff. His helmet was gone. His Creed was broken. And his body was hurt so badly that he wondered if he was dying. They had beat him with so much strength --- strength that he did not have to fight back. And now he was alone, accepting that this was his fate. Accepting the incoming end of his mortality. Knowing that his last moments would be this, alone and ashamed, weak and broken.

He was able to come to accept all of those things. But what he couldn't accept was the same fate for you, the woman who had done no wrong. The person he was hired to protect. He knew that he loved you. He wasn't sure when that thought had become true, but he realized it when Vinor Thriff spoke of the ultimatum over dinner. He probably loved you before that. He must have, because it was just impossible for him to convince himself that he would or would not remove his helmet for the sake of saving your life. He had known deep inside that he would, he just couldn't admit it to himself.

He heard someone let out a scream. He couldn't guarantee that it was you, but it was enough for him to move his head. His chin pressed against the floor, the taste of blood in his teeth. His palms were slick against the stone. Placing pressure on his hands was agony, but he did it anyway, trying to lift himself onto his knees. The right side of his body was shaking from exhaustion. He closed his eyes tightly.

His body tensed when the cell door opened. He opened his eyes and stared at the blurry reflection of his face in the puddle of water and blood.

"Get up, Mandalorian," the altered voice of a stormtrooper said. Din's hands shook with anger. Mandalorian. The very title was stripped of him, and now it was spoken into the air. "Did you hear me? I said get up---"

The stormtrooper neared him and Din's hand shot out, grabbing hold of his neck and squeezing tightly. His grip was weaker than usual, but still strong enough to steal the breath of the Imp. His knees struggled to straighten as he got up on his feet, staring at the visor of the helmet in front of him.

"Wait," choked the stormtrooper, clawing at his arm. "You've gotta listen to me."

"Why do I have to do that?" he whispered, his vision red with anger. Red with blood.

"It's Darius," the stormtrooper gasped. He tore the helmet off of his head shakily. Din's eyes widened and he dropped him, letting the man crumble to the ground and heave loudly. "Your face. I didn't know they..."

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