#brandi holstered that child

[phoebe-delia]

fate left scars upon his face with all the damage they had done

I'm having some writer's block at the moment, and when that happens I tend to sort of go one of three ways. 1. I don't write. 2. I write hurt/comfort. 3. I write about something kinda revenge/badass/dramatic.

And THEN the new MCR song came out, "The Foundations of Decay," and it sooo fit the fic and gave me intense Harry vibes, so it's now a songfic.

Also this is dedicated to @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm, the biggest MCR fan I know.

CW: brief smoking, CW: mentions/heavy discussions of and references to canonical child abuse, CW: mentions of and references to physical and emotional child abuse, CW: mentions of scars, Also Dumbledore bashing. Finally, a huge thank you to the lovely @crazybutgood for the very helpful beta! Enjoy some cathartic angst!

Harry’s robes clung to his skin, sodden and soaked with the rain. But despite the wand safely and conveniently stowed in its holster, Harry didn't cast a Warming Charm or an Impervius. He simply let himself shiver against the cold and the boots become muddied as he trudged through the forest, past rows of crumbling headstones to the large, ornate marble tomb.

He stopped several yards away, close enough to see the tomb in all its regal glory but far enough not to make out the name he knew was carved worshipfully into the stone.

Harry stared at the ornate display, so incongruous with the natural greenery of the surrounding trees. Silence hung thickly in the air, a sickly sweet kind of peace that spread over everything like molasses. The rain had slowed to a moderate drizzle, its rage beginning to quiet.

Fitting, really, since Harry's was just beginning.

“Did you know where I got the scar on my face?” he asked the tomb, letting the sound of his voice prod at the static stillness.

The marble had no reply, so Harry continued. “I wonder if you noticed it when you saw me again for the first time. I wonder if you saw my face and recognized my forehead and then looked at my cheek and did a double-take at the scar that ran across my tender skin.

“It was still pretty new, at that point. It wasn’t the first they’d given me, but the others were a bit more hidden. There’s a place on my back where he broke the skin with his belt, and when I snuck into the bathroom to clean it, I couldn’t reach. And there’s a burn mark on my leg, where she threw a pot of boiling water at me. Not to mention the fact that I still flinch when I hear the oven timer go off, and the smell of brandy makes my skin crawl. You don’t see those scars; no one does. That doesn't make them any less real.

“And I never knew what I did to deserve it. Never knew what my crime was, exactly. I tried to stay small and quiet. I tried to be as good as possible, to be of use to them, worth keeping around. Worthy of food, water. Worthy of life.”

Harry walked closer, watching raindrops slide down the smooth marble. He stared right at it, pretending he was looking straight into twinkling blue eyes. 

“And I don’t know why you never seemed to notice me tugging down the sleeves of my robes for the first weeks of each school year. I don’t know why no one, other than my closest friends, seemed to care that I would eat ravenously for the first few days and that I’d start tucking non-perishable food into my pockets at the end-of-the-year banquet.

“You know, when I look back at that time, the difference between you and them becomes more and more blurred. Sure, they made me feel like shit most of the time. But at least they were honest,” he spat. “You lied to me. You acted like you cared about me, and now I realize that all you ever cared about was keeping me alive. Not happy, not fulfilled, not loved—alive. 

“And now you’re gone, and I’m so full of grief. I’m grieving for Sirius—” Harry’s voice cracked, but he continued, “who you abandoned to rot in Azkaban. And for Remus. And my parents. And for myself, because you let me die, little by little, every day for 17 years until I was just broken enough to fix the world.  

“I don’t miss you, but I mourn the fact that I’m having this one-sided conversation with a slab of fucking rock instead of with the coward buried underneath. I wish you were here, not because I want you in my life, but because I want the satisfaction of cutting you out of it forever.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the tomb, “is an altar to a false god. You weren’t the infallible, wise elder everyone wanted you to be. You were just as fragile and weak and dumb as the rest of us; you were just better at faking it.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and held the lighter to the other end, revealing the flame with a soft click. He let it ignite the end of the cigarette and tucked the lighter back into his pocket before he sat down on the long marble slab, leaning back on a hand as he studied the engraved words in front of him. He used his free hand to take a drag of the cigarette, blowing smoke right over the headstone.

“You told me to pity the living, and not the dead, and that all sounds very poetic and profound, but I’ve done both,” Harry said, before pausing to take another drag. “And I know this…life, post-war, is still going to get harder before it gets easier. But I’ll prove you wrong. Because I don’t need you to tell me fortune cookie truths about life. I value my friends and my family. And Draco, who knows the scars on my body and mind nearly as well as I do, and who makes me happy and fulfilled and loved.” He glared at the headstone with defiance. “I will make my life into something you can’t pity me for.”

With that, Harry leaned over and tapped the ashes of his cigarette against the headstone, letting them spill a bit before he crushed it against the slab and let it drop there, the last bits of smoke still curling into the humid air. 

[scritch-scratches]

little boy blue, snippet

It's Black Org week @dcmk-fanfic-server!

I'd thought I'd write something for my role reversal AU for the first day's role reversal prompt!

It's not much though lol

It would not be an over-exaggeration to say that this was the man of his nightmares. In his head, Shinichi had seen those cold, narrow eyes staring down on him a thousand times before, while sleeping and while awake. 

But Gin’s hair had been cut short and gelled out of his face, neat and professional. In his hand was a gleaming badge, matched with an ID that didn’t make any sense.

“Edogawa Conan, aka Kudo Shinichi, aka Brandy,” Gin spoke and Shinichi’s heart froze in his chest because none of it made sense, “you are under arrest.”

Except it did make sense, didn’t it? It explained everything: the stranger that was identical to Akai carting him through the strange portal, an officer of the law that looked just like Gin, and the child with his face he’d caught a glimpse of, grinning in the shadows with a fierce, calculating glint in his icy eyes...

Brandy.

In this strange world he’d been dragged into, that was him. 

And this was Gin. Arresting him. 

It was ironic. Bizarre. Completely unreal.

His hands trembled as he raised them, too aware of the gun holstered at Gin’s side. The Gin he knew always aimed for the head, but this one didn't seem interested in aiming his gun at all.

Noting the differences helped calm Shinichi, somewhat. Hearing someone that looked and sounded like Gin putting the names Edogawa Conan and Kudo Shinichi together was almost nauseating, and it took everything he had to hold himself together.

"I am Edogawa Conan," he said, his voice shaking, "and Kudo Shinichi." Gin's expression did not shift. "But I'm not Brandy."

For the first time, the emotionless mask cracked. Gin snorted. "Denying it at this point—"

"Just like you aren't Gin, right?" His own voice cut right through, and the man that wasn't Gin twitched.

"Gin?" The man muttered, his eyes boring into Shinichi's own. Shinichi didn't look away.

The thing was, Shinichi could lie. He could make something up. He could do whatever he had to worm out of this situation. He still looked like a six year-old. There were options.

But if this man really was some mirror-version, some reversal of the Gin that once nearly murdered him, just like that other Conan...

That meant, theoretically, this man's values should be in total opposite of the Gin he knew. Gin, who didn't bother to remember the names or faces or anything about those he'd killed...

Reversed, this man would know everything about his targets. He would know everything about Brandy.

Despite how bad the situation was, Shinichi found himself offering a weak smile. "I'm not Brandy. You of all people can tell, right?"

"The you I know is called Gin." He wanted to show something to back up his story, but he didn't have anything... "Brandy is the me you know, right?"

"I'm not him, but I'll come with you anyway." "You can search me, too. I don't have any weapons."

[victoria-daydreams]

Lost in the Stars - Part IV

Part III

AN: This should’ve been posted earlier this week, but my procrastination said, “slow down there buckaroo”.

Summary: When Sarela Reyes accepted a bounty to find some missing child it should have been a simple job. What she got instead was a chance meeting with a certain Mandalorian, and her world was never the same.

After taking a rather refreshing morning shower Sarela dressed herself in her usual attire, a tightly fitted light combat armor top, made out of both lightweight metals as well as a maroon fabric. Over her top was a drop shoulder cut-out dark brown leather jacket that attached to the shirt. A pair of tight black pants hugged her legs and finally a pair of black boots that came up to just below her kneecaps. Hidden inside her boots was a knife, for a 'just in case' situation.

She turned around to look for her belt and in doing so caught her reflection in the mirror. Her black hair was in fluffy ringlets parted to the side, her mind was restless last night and the only way she could think to distract herself was to twist her hair. It was a better option than reaching for a bottle of brandy. Shaking her head, she grabbed her belt and left her bedroom, fastening the belt around her hips as she walked down the hall.

Sarela could smell fresh bread wafting in from her kitchen. This droid might have been one of the best prizes she had ever won. 370-C had always been a fantastically programmed cook.

"Good morning Master Sarela!" 370-C chirped, as she entered the room rubbing her eyes in the hopes of waking up some more.

"Morning 370-C," she greeted, plucking a freshly baked roll from a plate on the kitchen table.

"Breakfast will be ready shortly," the droid announced.

A sudden, sharp rap at the door caused Sarela and the droid to turn their heads toward the door in unison.

"370-C, we weren't expecting company were we?" Sarela asked, her voice low.

"No Master," the droid answer, matching her tone.

Sarela let out a quiet hum as she approached the door slowly, her hand now resting on her blaster.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's me," a filtered voice answered.

She felt her body slightly relax at the familiar voice and removed her hand from the blaster. Sarela opened the front door with an arched brow as she was greeted with the figure of the Mandalorian standing in her doorway.

"How did you find me?" she greeted, crossing her arms against her chest.

"A woman with an Imperial accent tends to stick out in this city," he answered cryptically.

"Lovely," Sarela drawled, flashing him a faux smile.

"Master Sarela," 370-C called, from behind Sarela and the Mandalorian instantly pulled his blaster out, aiming it at the droid with his finger on the trigger.

Sarela's eyes widened, "Whoa, what the hell do you think you're doing!?" Sarela asked incredulously.

"I don't like droids," the Mandalorian answered matter of factly.

"So what? You're going to shoot mine?!" she questioned, staring at him in disbelief. "He's harmless Mandalorian!" she exclaimed, throwing her hand up in the air. "Lower your blaster and I'll send him away. Kriffin hell," she stated, with an annoyed expression. Hesitantly, he dropped his gun and Sarela rolled her eyes. "370-C, forget about breakfast, see yourself to the closet and wait there," she ordered, still staring at the warrior in front of her.

"Yes Master,"

Sarela could hear the soft pattering of her droid's feet on the carpet before hearing the closet door slide open then shut.

"You're not going to shut him off?"

She scoffed slightly, "No," Sarela answered flatly. "This is still my house, Mandalorian," she reminded, placing her hand on her hip. She quirked an eyebrow at the man. "You coming in or not?" she asked impatiently, sticking her hand out to the side.

Releasing an annoyed sigh, the Mandalorian stepped inside her apartment and the door closed behind him. Sarela walked away from the bounty hunter and moved towards her kitchen, to remove the bread from the stove before it burned.

"You know, we could've just met at the Mayor's," Sarela pointed out, placing the tray of rolls on the counter. "I'm not particularly fond of unexpected house calls, Mandalorian," she added, tossing her mitts next to the tray.

"Didn't know if you'd be good on your word,"

"Awww," Sarela pouted playfully. "You don't trust me?" she asked, knowing the answer already.

"No,"

Sarela just grinned and took a bite of her roll, "That hurts," she stated, laying her hand against her chest as she left the kitchen.

"I didn't come here to chat, I came for the job,"

"Ooh, someone's anxious," Sarela sang teasingly, much to the Mandalorian's annoyance. She moved down the hall and looked over her shoulder. "Follow me," she called, as the door in front of her slid open.

With a flick, the whole room lit up to reveal weapons stowed away safely on walls. Guns, bombs, gadgets. Anything you could want, it sat there. Sarela smiled and with that began to make her way towards the wall filled with weapons. An array of shapes and sizes sat inside. From pistols to sniper rifles, she was covered. Then behind, in another cage, on the wall sat smaller gadgets. EMP, smoke and various chemical bombs, tracking devices, hand grenades, energy shields, thermal detonators, tripwire and climbing gear.

Sarela walked over to a table and began to pack her supplies that 370-C had already laid out. She placed her other blaster into the empty holster on her belt, moving along to the next area.

"You've got quite the armory," the Mandalorian noted, standing in the door frame and studying the room

"You almost sound impressed," Sarela grinned, pocketing one of the small range EPM bombs.

"It's just an observation, not a compliment," the Mandalorian countered.

Sarela laughed lightly, "Whatever you say, Mandalorian," she said, slinging her sniper rifle onto her back. Sarela pushed past him, stretching her arms out behind her. "You know, calling you Mandalorian is becoming annoying to me," she mused, leaning her head from side to side. "I'm going to call you Mando for short, it's much easier," she stated, smirking to herself.

The Mandalorian following behind just let out a grunt of acknowledgement, causing Sarela to dramatically roll her eyes.

"This is going to be a very long job if it's just me doing all the talking Mando," Sarela remarked, tossing a look over her shoulder.

"I know, so let's get this over with,"

~~~x~~~

Mayor Vullen's house was massive.

Actually, house was not the correct term to use, this was a mansion, a three-story one at that. Stone balustrade balconies lined every level of the mansion with beautifully engraved pillars supporting the front porch cover and miniature ones that held up the other two stories. The sandstone mansion stood proudly over the large, picturesque lush green lawn along the manicured hedges and the vibrant, blooming shrubs. An ornate fountain was placed in the center of the long gravel walkway that led straight to the grand double staircase porch. The wide porch was spacious enough for numerous people to stand on with ease to overlook the large front yard.

If it's one thing rich people knew how to do, it's build lavish homes and being acutely aware or flat out ignorant of the problems that the lower classes face.

Just one of the many perks of living in Hightown.

"I would know," Sarela thought. "Once upon a time, I was apart of this class,"

"Come on, destiny awaits Mando," Sarela joked, before walking ahead of him.

As she climbed the stairs, Sarela's hand softly trailed along the handrail, instinctively she felt her posture straighten and her shoulders shift back. Sarela almost wanted to laugh at her subtle actions, it's been years since she took etiquette lessons as a young girl, but the grand staircase she was currently ascending evoked many memories of all the galas she used to attend when she was apart of high society.

Stepping on the last step, she and the Mandalorian moved to the front door. Sarela raised one of her fingers and pressed the doorbell, the ringing echoed through the mansion. Immediately, the door swung open revealing a middle-aged butler, he looked at the duo and his nose turned upward as if he smelled something foul.

Sarela rolled her eyes, "Maker," she breathed. "We're here for the job," she explained simply, but all that did was make the snobbish butler raise a brow.

"Ah, Reyes you made it!" a boisterous voice greeted happily. Zef came into view from behind the butler, wearing a golden jacket so bright that she almost wanted to cover her eyes to look at him. Zef's happy expression morphed into confusion as he saw that Sarela had not only brought herself, but also a Mandalorian. "And...you brought a...friend..." he added unsurely, his eyes bouncing from her to the man behind her.

"The more the merrier Zef," Sarela quipped.

"Ah," Zef breathed, nodding his head slowly. "Well, in that case, there with me friend," he informed, clasping his against the butler's shoulder.

The butler's posture stiffened and he cut his eyes down to where Zef's hand was placed, "Splendid," he answered dryly. "Follow me," he ordered, letting the two of them in before closing the door.

The group followed the butler from the foyer and down a hallway that Sarela suspected was his office. While on their journey, Zef had pulled Sarela back as the Mandalorian followed close behind the butler.

Sarela glanced at Zef's jacket again, "Are you challenging the sun now?" she asked him, with a smile.

"No, I was just trying to make a good first impression," he answered defensively.

"By blinding him?" she grinned, as they passed the grand dining room.

"A golden jacket is better than bringing a Mandalorian," Zef argued quietly. "How did he become apart of our job?" he questioned slightly annoyed.

Sarela lazily looked over at him with an expression that said 'really', "Zef, you're not even the one who's getting their hands dirty," she pointed out. "This is technically my job while you reap the benefits of it," she corrected, lightly stabbing her finger into his shoulder. "In case you forgotten, this city is huge, two pairs of eyes is better than one," she explained. "Plus, I highly doubt that Mayor Vullen cares that I partnered with a Mandalorian," she stated, shrugging her shoulders. "He just wants his daughter back," she finished.

"Reyes-"

"Honestly Zef, you're fretting for no reason," she stated, cutting him off. "This job sounds simple enough, a rich kid has been kidnapped and I have to retrieve her. They're not going to kill her, she's worth more alive than dead," she reminded, before giving a reassuring pat on his arm and walking ahead.

The group walked down the long maroon hall, turning down another hall, and then another. Finally, they came to a stop at the door of the Mayor's office and Sarela glanced over at Zef who was nervously adjusting his clothes.

"Stars, relax," she muttered.

The butler pressed his finger to the door latch to and the door slid open with a hiss and everyone stepped into the office.

"Sir," the butler called. "Your guests," he announced, placing his arms behind his back.

The olive skinned man turned away from the window he was staring out of and faced them.

"Thank you Barell," he said, walking towards the small party. "You're dismissed," he informed, and Barell just nodded his head and left the room.

"Mayor Vullen, can I just say that you have my deepest sympathies about your daughter," Zef began, moving over to the man and shaking his hand.

Sarela let her eyes trail over her latest employer, she could tell he was a handsome man when he was younger man, she could see the boyish charm in his features. But she could see dark bags underneath the man's eyes and the barely hidden tiredness on his face from the stress of his missing daughter. He carried a little extra weight in the middle, but was still slim enough. His face was unshaven and his hair, a dark brown mop, curled at the ends around his ears and neck.

"I welcome your sympathies Zef, but getting my Lora back is what I care about most," Mayor Vullen stated, firmly returning his handshake.

Zef released his hand, "You have nothing to fear sir," Zef reassured, extending his arm out in the direction of Sarela and the Mandalorian. "These two are the best at what they do," he stated with a grin, dropping his hand to the side.

The Mayor looked at her with raised an eyebrow, "And does the lovely creature in front of me have a name?" he asked, his eyes never wavering from Sarela.

A smirk tugged at Sarela's lips and approached the man who was halfway sitting on the front of his desk.

She stuck her hand out, "Reyes," she answered, her smirk now turning into a smile.

Mayor Vullen took Sarela's hand in his and instead of shaking it like she expected, he lifted her hand high enough that he could lower his head and kiss it. All while maintaining eye contact the entire time. Sarela nearly laughed at the man's actions.

"Maker, men are so weak," she thought.

"One begins to wonder how a pretty face like yours could ever get involved in this line of work?" Mayor Vullen asked, letting her hand go.

"Why Mayor Vulllen," Sarela started, shaking her head slightly. "That's what makes me so cut out for this type of work. It's what makes me so...dangerous," Sarela stated, turning on her charm. "My beauty is one of the best weapons in my arsenal," she finished, flashing him another winning smile.

"The job, Reyes," a muffled voice stated.

Sarela briefly shut her eyes and breathed out a laugh, before reopening her eyes, "You'll have to excuse my partner," she said, a kind smile on her lips. "He can be a bit...brusque," she finished, looking over her shoulder at the Mandalorian.

"Oh no, he's right," Mayor Vullen chuckled, waving his hand. "That is why I hired the two of you after all," he continued, standing up from his seated position.

"Well, in that case, tell us everything you can about your daughter's disappearance," she requested, gesturing for him to speak.

"Yesterday, Lora was outside playing in the courtyard with some of her friends around noon time," Mayor Vullen informed, folding his arms against his chest. "Taza, the nanny, took them to the market an hour later so she could run some errands," he continued. "In all honesty, I didn't want her to tag along," he said, lifting one of his hands to his neck.

Sarela raised her brow, "Why?" she asked curiously.

"Lora, has a bit of a habit of wandering off," Mayor Vullen explained, slightly chuckling. "Taza took Lora and her friends on a similar trip last month, they all turned their back on her for a second to inspect a fabric that a vendor was selling and when they turned back around to ask her opinion she was gone," he recalled, shaking his head. "I deployed the entire force of the city guards to find her," he recalled, staring off to the side.

"And where did you find her?" The Mandalorian questioned, speaking up again.

"In Lowtown," he answered, a slight scowl on his friends. "With her 'friends', if you can believe that," he added, letting out a scoff.

"You seem skeptical of these friends," Sarela reasoned, tilting her head slightly.

"There's nothing but criminals in Lowtown," Mayor Vullen stated. "The kids that reside there are undoubtedly a bad influence on her," he concluded.

Mentally, Sarela rolled her eyes at Mayor Vullen's statement, the rich always associated poorness with criminality.

"I'm assuming you already searched Lowtown then," Sarela remarked.

"Several times," Mayor Vullen answered. "Even interrogated those so called friends of her, but alas nothing," he added, a loud sigh coming out of him.

"You have pictures of these friends?" The Mandalorian asked.

"Of course," he answered, picking up his datapad. "The moment my guards found Lora with the riff raff, I immediately obtained their information," he explained, staring down at the screen. "Much to Lora's displeasure," he finished, tapping one part of his datapad.

Instantly, the data began to display the profiles of Lora's friends in mid air.

"Cassir Sinar," Mayor Vullen named, pointing at the first holographic profile. "Zabrak, fifteen, a pickpocket," he listed, before moving on to the next profile. Mayor Vullen pointed at the picture of a young, purple skinned Twi'lek with gray eyes. "Darra Bain, twelve, no record as far as we can tell," he continued. "Tobias Cath, seventeen, has a record for petty thievery," he said, and Sarela stared at the fair skinned teenage boy with dark features. "Finally, Jazen Sekel. Fourteen and no criminal record that we could ascertain," he finished, staring at the dark complexioned boy with tightly curled hair that was cropped close to his head.

"Two out of four of the kids are petty criminals," Sarela thought. "I doubt they would graduate to kidnapping,"

"You can't possibly think these four are your kidnappers," Sarela stated incredulously, pointing at the profiles. "They're kids," she reminded.

"And two of them have records already," Mayor Vullen countered, minimizing the hologram back onto his datapad.

"As petty thieves," The Mandalorian pointed out. "I doubt these kids have the level of sophistication of pulling off a kidnapping," he reasoned.

Sarela stuck her hand out in the Mandalorian's direction, "Exactly," she agreed. "We'll talk to these kids again, if it would make you feel better, but no guarantees Mayor Vullen," she said, downloading the profiles of the kids to her holopad. "Your guards have probably made those kids too frightened to even speak about this now," she hypothesized.

"Is there anything else we should know?" The Mandalorian questioned. "Something that you noticed that seemed out of the ordinary or something that your daughter said which seemed small before,"

Mayor Vullen scratched the back of his neck, "No, nothing," he answered, shaking his head. "Everything was business as usual until yesterday," he said. "The only thing that sticks out in my mind is that Lora complained about her life being stifled as the Mayor's daughter," he recalled, Sarela froze and slowly lifted her head from the holopad. "But she always said that," he added, waving his hand dismissively.

"Complained about her life being stifled as the Mayor's daughter," Sarela repeated. "Kriffin' hell, rich kids,"

Sarela turned her head in Zef's direction, "Zef, you said Mayor Vullen's daughter was missing?" she recalled.

"T-That's what I was told," Zef confirmed, staring at Sarela warily. "And all of our talking seems to confirm that," he added.

Running a hand down her face, Sarela let out a sigh and looked back over to the Mayor, "Sir, Lora's not missing," she stated. "She ran away," she corrected.

"What difference does it make? My daughter is gone!" Mayor Vullen exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"Well for one Mayor Vullen, it's a lot harder to find a runaway than someone missing," Sarela informed. "Do you know how big this planet is? She could be in the countryside or some backwater town," she continued, crossing her arms against her chest. "For all we know, she could have already left this planet and this system," Sarela guessed, throwing a her hand up.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lora would never leave the planet," Mayor Vullen replied surely.

"Do you really wanna take that bet?" Sarela asked, arching her brow. "So Mayor, it seems that our job is not a case of a missing person, but a runaway," she commented, pocketing her holopad.

"So it seems,"

"Well then, that's gonna cost slightly more," Sarela stated, rubbing her fingers together.

"Beg your pardon?!"

Sarela turned her head from side to side as if she heard something, "Mando?" she called. "Did you hear that?" she asked curiously, looking back at the metal man. He stood there unexpressive, clearly not entertained with her antics. "I thought I heard the Mayor say 10,000 credits. 10,000 credits to find his runaway child," she announced, spinning back around with her hands out to the side.

Mayor Vullen's cheeks flushed red, "I knew the moment I heard your accent I shouldn't have trusted you!" he snapped, stabbing his finger in the air at Sarela. She only grinned and quirked a brow, which only infuriated the Mayor even further.

"So, he did make note of my accent," she thought.

"You said you would find me the best Zef, but instead you brought me an extortionist!" Mayor Vullen shouted, now directing his fury at Zef.

Zef frantically waved his hands in front of him, "I-I'm sure that Reyes is here is just pulling your leg," he explained, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Right Reyes?" he asked hopefully.

"No," she answered flatly, staring Zef dead in the eyes. Sarela casually began pacing around the office. "I mean, I don't see what the harm is Mayor," she said, tossing her arms up in a slight shrug. "We both get what we want. You get your daughter, we get our credits," Sarela remarked, gesturing between her and the Mandalorian.

Mayor Vullen narrowed his eyes at her, "Fine," he gritted out. "I'll have my assistants arrange the credits," he informed, sticking his hand out.

Sarela slightly cocked her head to the side, "Lovely," she smiled, reaching for his hand.

Mayor Vullen abruptly snatched his hand out of her grasp, "You're not touching those credits, not until I receive my Lora and not some street urchin imposter," he told her. "I want my daughter brought back alive and safe," he stressed, before moving his hand back into Sarela's proximity.

"There shan't be a hair out of place on Lora," Sarela promised, grasping his hand and giving it a firm shake.

"Good,"

Sarela lifted two of her fingers to her forehead and causally saluted Mayor Vullen before turning around to leave the office, the Mandalorian in tow. Just as the two exited the room, she heard Zef call her name.

"Yes Zef?" she asked, as the door slid shut after him.

"Just promise me you won't die out there," he stated, trying to sound disinterested, but the slight frown on his face gave him away.

Sarela raised a curious brow, Zef was never one to be sentimental.

"Honestly Zef, I'm touched that you care that much about my well being," Sarela remarked, her lips pulling into a smirk as she placed both of her hands on heart.

"Well I was promised that five percent cut, wasn’t I?" he quipped.

Part V

[lifedxbt]

|| Compiling my headcanons into a less details but overall more comprehensive list of dot points 

Tseng was born and raised in a fairly small village in Wutai, in a military family. He’s an only child. 

He was trained in firearm skills and martial arts growing up.

When Tseng was 17 and the Wutai war was starting, he used his father’s connections in the military to gather Wutai secrets to sell to ShinRa troops. After being ridiculed by ShinRa troops, they decided to challenge him to find more important secrets - expecting him to fail. He, in fact, succeeded, and when the information proved useful, he was offered a place in the Turks.

He first was given the codename Gun for his first few years in the Turks.

He was then given the codename Tseng, a name he considers more his real name than his birthname. Veld gave his name to him.

It wasn’t until he was 23 that he began to seriously consider himself a Turk and part of a family. (Around the time Veld saves his life)

Veld took him under his wing properly around this point and he quickly climbed the ranks to Second in Command.

During his rookie years, Tseng took great efforts to repress his Wutai heritage. He currently has no discernible accent and, if he wanted to, could pass for a man who has never stepped foot in Wutai. He also mostly gave up his martial arts in favour of Turk trained hand-to-hand combat skills but later took it up again.

Tseng started wearing makeup to hide the bags under his eyes when he joined ShinRa. He still wears it. Colour correcting any discolouration around his eyes, filling in his brows, bit of pencil eyeliner. He likes to enhance his eyes and hide any tiredness he feels. 

Tseng drinks to help ease himself to sleep. Otherwise he drinks socially, he is a heavyweight and rarely bothers drinking to get drunk. He has a preference for red wine and brandy, though likes most hard liquors. 

As a fighter, Tseng is faster than he is strong. His stamina is only a little above average. He makes up for this by being quite a dirty fighter. While he specialises in firearms, he is trained in all weapons. 

His real skills are in subterfuge and information gathering. 

He has two guns on him at all times: one kept in an underarm holster and one in a concealed ankle holster. He also has blades kept in both of his sleeves, one in the sole of his shoe, and a balisong kept in his breast pocket. 

Tseng only started wearing his earrings recently, after giving himself to Rufus, and they are a dark purple.

[perversiions]

          Raphael, a businessman, invites a rival, a Sicilian named Tommasino, to his home. ( ft. @two-midnightmercs‘s muse, Raven )

      A slender, pale finger rested comfortably upon the shelf of the patriarch’s bottom lip, elbow propped up by the mahogany arm of his leather chair. Behind him stood three loyal members of his household: a mute, a nephilim, and a lout. Today he hosted another patriarch. One who brought along two others, ‘ associates ’ as he so fondly called them in his coarse timbre, and placed himself directly across the other, the antique desk the only thing separating them.                                                            C H E C K M A T E. 

     Impeccably dressed, each man observed one another through the cigarette-induced haze. Graciously did the hosting patriarch offer the other a drink, who could not object, and so Raphael lifted his unoccupied hand to signal its retrieval. Panagiotis reluctantly stepped from the shadows and returned with a small glass of pomace brandy, made in the town just five kilometers from where this meeting was held. The stout, soft fingers of the other patriarch meet that of the lackey’s for a gentle moment, and it is hard for the latter to not cringe at the connection. Once the strong liquid is sipped at and the portly man grunts in contentment, Panos makes his way to his previous vantage point, one that loomed over Raphael while watching the movement of the ‘ associates ’.      The two patriarchs spoke in their Italian pleasantries before the host finally mentioned the topic in which brought them to this summit       territory. Tension settled and they spoke their sides passionately, the crescendos and decrescendos of the patriarchs’ voices increasing or decreasing the anxiety of both of those within their services. The raven-haired woman would cast her dark gaze towards her other colleagues, who returned the glance hesitantly. A smile tinged on Panos’ lips, a very unbecoming expression for the climate, as a way of reassuring her. Dark eyes simply rolled before returning themselves to match the gaze of one of the ‘ associates ’. Gaetano was a spritely fellow with a pointy nose and thin lips. When he smiled ( which he often did ), his lips pulled back to reveal a coy, reptile-like grin. It was relatively hard for those who stood behind Raphael to not leap of that ancient desk and smack that foolish grin from his face. Impatiently, the nephilim to the right of Panos drummed her slender fingers against her thigh to resist the urge. It was a relatively mutual feeling held by the three throughout the business negotiation.      Finally, after an hour or so, the room’s aura seemed to lighten up once more, Raphael and Tommasino happily agreeing on sharing their profits on the south-eastern coast of Sicily. The mute, the nephilim, and the lout seemingly all omitted sighs of relief, glad that they did not have to relieve their holsters of their weapons. They also engage in somewhat friendly banter with Tommasino’s ‘ associates ’, Panos poking fun at Gaetano’s petiteness sarcastically. The previous tension had almost dissipated until there is an alarming thud upon the office doors. Hands reached for their respected weapon, their warm, friendly expressions shifting to suspicious glances. That is, until a soft calling is heard behind the door.    “ DADDY      ” The creaking door revealed a child, a small boy no older than four, with glistening blond hair and sun-kissed cheeks. His blond brows were sewn together, frustration and concern contorting his features. Before a word can be spoken or a beckoning uttered, Panos moved, like a blur, towards the boy and scooped him in his arms. He offered no explanation, simply shutting the door behind him to allow business to recommence.      Making his way to the salon, he placed the boy down, kneeling so that his pale gaze matched his son’s. Mind raced with what to say     whether or not to scold him or convey his concerns. But before he can speak, the boy interrupted.      “Daddy,” Konstantinos muttered softly and slowly so that his anxious father could return to the moment. “I CAN’T button M Y shirt. I need help.”      Omitting a sigh, Panos reluctantly straightened the little boy’s gingham shirt before allowing his fingers to thread its plastic buttons through their loops. As he helps his son dress, the bodyguard began to softly correct him on his previous behavior.       “Haven’t I told you that when Nono,” a tender endearment for Raphael, “is in his study that we don’t interrupt?”      The boy nodded.       “And to wait to come out of the music room till all of his guests are gone?”      He nodded again, this time exhaling heavily in annoyance. Panos couldn’t help but hiccup a chuckle.      “So     ” Large, tattooed hands tenderly cupped the little boy’s flushed cheeks. “When you need help with your shirt or your shoes or anything, you have to wait, okay? Promise me you’ll wait.”       “I  P R O M I S E.” The boy bounced impatiently, chin down while he gazed at his father through long, blond lashes. Panagiotis doesn’t need to ask for an embrace or a kiss, for Konnie falls forward into his father, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. This moment would be immortalized in the man’s memory till the day he died.      Unwarranted, the boy turned his head and pressed a kiss to his father’s temple, almost causing the man to melt where they stood. Pulling away, Panos offered his son a smile, lifting a hand to caress the boy’s cheek with its knuckles.       “I love you so much, kid.”       “Love you too, daddy     I’m gonna play with the piano.” And with that, the little boy sauntered off to his designated room. Panos watched him as he disappeared down the hallway and remained in that kneeling position till he composed himself once more, returning to the business meeting promptly and with utmost apologies.        The summit lasted another hour, the two patriarchs simply going over the logistics of their agreement. As Tommasino, Gaetano, and his other associate made their swift exit from that mountainside manor, Raphael stood silently next to Panos, watching stoically as his guests disappeared into their car and drove off his property. The Italian rose his hand and firmly placed it at the nape of his bodyguard’s neck. Sensing something, Panos turned to offer his apologies once more.      “Raphael. I’m sorry     ”      “Do not apologize for being a father, Panagiotis,” the older man offered, his slender hand moving to cup the other’s cheek. “Some of us are not so lucky to be gifted with children.” A thoughtful hum fluttered past Panos’s lips. They remained quiet for a moment, allowing themselves to drop their shoulders and relish this anxiety-less moment. Finally, Raphael turned to make his way back into his Lombard manor.      “Come now, my boy. There is no rest for the Wicked.”

[victoria-daydreams]

Lost in the Stars - Part III

Part II

AN: So, I’m back. With all of the pictures coming out for season 2 of The Mandalorian and now the trailer, my inspiration has sort of returned for this story.

Summary: When Sarela Reyes accepted a bounty to find some missing child it should have been a simple job. What she got instead was a chance meeting with a certain Mandalorian, and her world was never the same.

Sarela strolled down the road with a small sweet cake cupped in her hand that always seemed to melt in her mouth with its butteriness and sugariness. She took a small bite of her treat smiling a bit as she did. It was the simple pleasures in life she looked forward to. Her boots rhythmically hit against the dirt street as she popped the last bit of the cake into her mouth.

Opening the door to her home, the familiar smell of lavender rushed to her nose to help cover for the scent of mothballs that never seemed to go away. She turned on a light nearest to the door, flipping her hood off as the door closed and locked behind her. Even in the dimly lit room, Sarela was able to observe the entire room of her apartment. It was was an open space, revealing the kitchen and living room which were in front of a small single pane window to the back of the apartment. The furniture she owned was minimal, but it was placed meticulously around the apartment.

She definitely had a keen eye for detail.

"Master Sarela!" a LEP unit hummed from another room of the apartment and in a hurry, the servant droid LEP-370C dashed into the living room and almost tripped over its feet in its haste.

Sarela chuckled at her droid's clumsiness, she won the droid in a card game. She may have or may not have cheated in said card game, but the only thing that mattered was that Sarela won in the end.

"370-C you always know how to make an entrance," she commented, pulling her scarf off.

Sarela hung her scarf on the back of a kitchen chair before grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the kitchen tap. She moved back over to her living her room, plopping down on the sofa in the middle of her home Sarela let out a sigh of relief.

"It is so good to be home," she breathed, dropping her head back onto the sofa as she settled into her seat. "You would not believe the day I've had 370-C," she added, relaxing deeper into the cushions.

An airy laugh escaped Sarela's lips, she couldn't believe her luck today. She ran into a Mandalorian, who fortunately wasn't after her and after meeting the mysterious Mandalorian for some reason she asked said Mandalorian to help her with her bounty. She must have had too much brandy. Still, Sarela couldn't recall the last time she seen a Mandalorian, it was probably during when she served. Even though she fought against them in the past, the Mandalorian's in general always fascinated her for their beautiful contradictions. They were blood thirsty warriors, but yet they killed for honor and glory.

Shaking her head, she snapped out her reverie, "370-C," she called. "Prepare my things for tomorrow, I have a bounty to find," she added, waving the droid away.

"Yes, Master Sarela,"

370-C wandered out of the room once more, but not without almost tripping over itself once again. Sarela sniggered slightly before drinking deeply from her glass and standing up, walking over to her kitchen sink.

"370-C, did I get any messages today?" she asked, placing the cup down. "From...well, you know who," she hinted.

"No, Master Sarela," 370-C responded. "I didn't see any messages from her,"

"Figures," she breathed, leaving the kitchen and making her way to her bedroom.

Her footfalls soundless on the blue carpet that coated the apartment floor as she entered the small bedroom. Sarela had tried to give the space a touch of comfort there was a dresser, a closet, and of course a bed. A small desk rested in the corner of the room along with two pairs of boots in a tidy line against the wall. Although the bedroom was not heavily furnished, there was a cozy quality to it.

Sarela plopped down on her bed and reached for the holoprojector that rested on her nightstand. Pressing a few buttons, a holographic image appeared showing six individuals all smiling widely. One person immediately caught Sarela's eyes, it was a female Mirialan, the "her" that 370-C was referring to.

Anesa Parsa was her name, the first person to show her an act of kindness on Nar Shaddaa. The first person Sarela came across with a shred of decency on that crime ridden moon. Most importantly, one of Sarela's first friends after she left Intelligence. It was all a matter of happenstance really, they met each other where Sarela meets most of the people she comes into contact with, a cantina.

Sitting by herself in a cantina called The Fallen Star on the moon Nar Shaddaa, a bored frown lined Sarela's forehead. She looked around at the crowd getting their fill of drinks, food, and fun, trying to recall why she was in this cantina the first place. Oh, that's right. Hal. Taking a sip of her Tatooine Sunburn, her brown orbs flickered around the room in search of her so called 'partner'.

"Hey baby, what do you say me and you blow this joint and go have some fun?" a drunken man waltzed up to her, sloshing around his drink as he leaned in.

"I would say that you should think harder before approaching someone like me," Sarela replied dryly, rolling her eyes.

"Now come on honey, you may be pretty, but with that attitude it's a wonder you ever get fucked, but it's your lucky day, I'm not picky,"

Sarela froze as she went to lift the glass to her lips, her eyes narrowed dangerously. This idiot had the audacity to actually spew such crude language towards her. He would've been a dead man walking, but Sarela thought he was too pathetic of a man to even waste a blaster bolt on. Tossing back the rest of her drink, Sarela didn't even say anything as she raised her blaster and set it to stun before shooting him.

The patrons stopped for a moment to stare, "Don't worry he's not dead," she announced lazily, and that was good enough for everyone as they quickly went back to whatever they were doing. Casually, Sarela returned her blaster to the holster on her thigh and flipped a credit to the barman. "Sorry for the mess," she apologized, as the barman refilled her drink.

"You actually did me a favor kid," he remarked, a smirk on his face as he signaled for some people two drag the man out of the cantina.

"Rough day?" a female voice asked beside her, sliding onto to the stool next to her.

Sarela didn't bother turning her head to look at stranger, "Unless you want to end up like the man who's being dragged out here then I suggest you leave me alone," she drawled, lifting her drink to her lips.

"You're right, I don't want to end up like him, but I need to talk to you," the woman replied. "It's important," she added, causing Sarela to finally look at her.

Sarela's eyes met the violet irises of the yellow-green skinned woman next to her. Below the woman's eyes were her species native tattoos, small black diamond shaped tattoos that formed a chevron pointing upwards. Her raven colored hair spilled over her shoulders framing her angular face.

"You don't even know me," Sarela stated, exhaling deeply. "What could possibly be so important?" she questioned, massaging her temple.

"But I know of you," the woman countered. "Anesa Parsa," she introduced, sticking her hand out.

"Reyes," Sarela responded, lowering her gaze to Anesa's outstretched hand.

Seeing that Sarela was making no move to reciprocate her gesture, Anesa slowly pulled her hand back.

"Just Reyes?" Anesa questioned, lifting her brow.

"Since you are a literal stranger to me, yes, just Reyes," Sarela retorted. "Only my friends get to know my first name, which isn't many," she finished, before drinking from her cup.

"I could easily change that," Anesa beamed.

"I'd really rather you not," Sarela replied, a sigh escaping her lips. "But I have a feeling you won't leave me alone until you say your piece," she continued, moving her head from side to side. "So, speak," she ordered softly.

"I'm going to get right to it, my crew could really, really use someone like you and your skills," Anesa began. "We've had a bad string of luck lately from botched jobs to members of the crew leaving,"

A laugh bubbled from her lips, "And what? You think I can change of that, just by myself?" Sarela asked skeptically. "I just wave my hand and say 'I bid you good fortune and luck'," she chuckled, amused at the thought.

"Well...not like that, not completely," Anesa answered unsurely, and Sarela let out a scoff. "Listen, I've heard stories about you, people say you're pretty good. Do you know how hard it is to earn a reputation like that on this moon in less than a year?"

Sarela's time with Intelligence had left her with numerous skills that were useful to the mercenary work she did now. Like, the art of hand to hand combat, how to handle a blaster better than any other, slicing, piloting, demolitions, escape and evasion, wilderness survival, espionage, assassination, smuggling (or their view of it), the history of the galaxy, and many other things.

Sarela believed, no, knew, with the skill set she had she would seem more refined than the average bounty hunter in the eyes of future employers. And it was an assumption that proved to be true, in a place like Nar Shaddaa clients had grown accustomed to jobs being done sloppily, it was a rough way of living on the moon after all. But in some sense it had suited her, Sarela could easily make herself standout from the rest, and that she did.

"I work better alone, sorry," Sarela said, with a slight shrug.

"Is that why you're partnered with the most unreliable man on Nar Shaddaa?" Anesa retorted. "Come on, Hal's beneath you in all aspects," she pointed out.

Working with a man like Hal wasn't by choice, he was just as Anesa described him, 'the most unreliable man on Nar Shaddaa'. Hal was unorganized, scatterbrained, and most importantly always late. Everything about him seemed to annoy Sarela which made this "partnership" unbearable. Even with jobs drying up Sarela was considering not taking the job at all.

"You're not wrong there," Sarela agreed, nodding her head. "But desperate times call for desperate measures," she breathed, a grimace on her face.

"See! You would be a much better fit to my crew!" she grinned.

"Didn't you just tell me your crew was falling on hard times?" Sarela reminded, lifting a brow.

"Well yes, but with someone like you on our side, our reputation will be restored as one of the best mercenary groups,"

"This proposition seems to benefit you more than it does me," Sarela pointed out.

"The jobs we get pay much better than the typical ones you receive," Anesa explained, and Sarela lifted another skeptical brow. "55,000 credits, that is what we earned on our last successful job," Anesa said, in a hushed whisper and Sarela let out a hum now seemingly interested.

"This crew of yours, I assume you're the captain then?" Sarela asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Umm...not exactly..." she trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Sarela nearly choked on her drink, "Pardon?" she asked, leaning forward.

"You see, I'm just a member of the crew," Anesa explained slowly. "Oren is the captain. I'm recruiting you on Oren's behalf because he's too stubborn to see that we are in dire need of help,"

A chuckled escaped Sarela's lips, "You're kidding?" she said, before shaking her head. "You really had me sold there for a moment," she chuckled again.

"Please!" Anesa pleaded, gently gripping Sarela's wrist. "Yes, I should have been upfront, but listen you won't regret this. The crew that I'm apart is like no other, their certainly better than Hal," she assured, letting out a light laugh.

"You took on this personal quest of yours to recruit me, but what if your actual captain doesn't want me?" Sarela asked curiously.

"I'll convince him," Anesa said. "Just trust me on this,"

Sarela exhaled loudly, "Oh, what the hell, what do I have to lose. It beats working with Hal,"

And then, from that day onward Sarela had been a part of Oren Tanik's merry mercenary crew. But it was rocky start to the say least, within the first minute of Sarela meeting her would be captain, he angrily asked who she was and why the hell she was on his ship. Sarcastically, Sarela answered by congratulating him on welcoming his newest crew member thanks to the resident Mirialan aboard his ship. Unsurprisingly, Oren was livid that Anesa went behind his back and hired a crew member, but he was willingly to give Sarela a chance because as the old saying goes, desperate times calls for desperate measures.

While Sarela and Oren didn't see eye to eye with each other at first, the rest of the crew seemed to welcome their newest member with open arms. There was Thel Josto the Twi'lek, Elmin Aban the Duros, and the Togruta Lahani Suvan. Oren was the captain and pilot of his ship The Galaxy Horizon. Thel and Anesa worked as the ship's engineers. While Lahani, Elmin, and Sarela worked as hired was going great for Sarela, she couldn't remember the last time she had been that happy.

It was a tight-knit family, or at least that's what Sarela had thought.

But Sarela's happiness with her new found family would not last for long. As her last job with the crew would be ill-fated, of course at the time Sarela didn't know that, she had more pressing things on her mind. For it was during that time tensions were beginning to run high between her and Oren again. Sarela had been apart of the crew for a year at that point and as Anesa would constantly brag about it being the decision to ever to go behind Oren's back to recruit her. Because Sarela had in fact rebuilt the crew's name.

Now, it wasn't like the moment Sarela became apart of Oren's crew that all their problems vanished immediately. No, they're were still many bumps in the road as the crew had to get adjusted to having a sixth member aboard and her personality. So, for the first three months of being a member of the crew Sarela didn't see many successes with her fellow mercenaries, much to Oren's displeasure. That was until a nearly botched smuggling job transformed into a huge payout thanks to Sarela's quick thinking and from there, a string of successes that Sarela or the crew never thought was possible.

But Sarela's success came with a cost, she noticed that Oren was becoming cold towards her. At first she didn't understand why when they had become great friends, but after noticing the little things that the did crew when she was around she finally pieced it together. Whenever Oren was discussing with the crew a potential job they would always turn to Sarela for her opinion or guidance if it was a good idea.

Without realizing it Sarela had been undermining his authority slowly making it appear as though Oren was an incompetent captain. And it was clear that Oren was also sensing this shift in attitude from the crew as Sarela could feel his resentment for her grow each time the crew would be more inclined to follow her suggestion than Oren's.

Finally, the tension between Oren and Sarela finally boiled over on the night that Oren announced that he gotten job for the crew.

"You got us a job?" Lani asked, a frown lining her forehead. "What happened to making that decision as a group?" she questioned again.

"Yeah Oren," Anesa chiming in. "This is rather abrupt, even for you," she added, staring him curiously.

"It was job offer that I had to pounce on," Oren explained, waving his hand. "Sorry that we couldn't sit down and discuss it over tea," he added sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Must be some hell of a job," Elmin commented dryly.

"Who offered you the job?" Sarela questioned, briefly looking away from her sniper rifle and at Oren. "And who's our target?" she asked again.

"Madame Rabor gave us the job," he answered, looking over at Sarela. "Our target...Gantu," he named, a grin appearing on his face as he rubbed his hands together.

Sarela's body froze as the whole ship went silent, she slowly lifted her eyes from the sniper rifle she was cleaning.

"I'm sorry, but did you say Gantu?" she asked, disbelief across her face. "As in the crime lord Gantu?" she asked again.

"Yes Sarela, the one and only,"

A million thoughts raced across Sarela's mind as she thought of every scenario that could happen to the crew if Gantu found out that he was their next target. And in each scenario that Sarela constructed in her head she only saw one outcome, death, a very slow, painful death.

"Oren, are you an idiot? Are you missing some screws in your head?" Sarela inquired, no trace of a smile on her face. "How could take a job like that without telling us!?" she inquired angrily.

Oren narrowed his eyes at her, "I'm sorry Sarela, but are you in charge of this crew or am I?" he asked, turning to face her fully.

"Oren," Anesa called. "Maybe Sarela's right," she suggested, rubbing the back of her neck. "Going after someone like Gantu...it's a bit risky," she pointed out, lifting one hand while lowering the other one.

"He's not a man to be trifled with," Thel contributed, a nervous look appearing on his face. "Those who cross him end up-" he didn't finish sentence, but slid his index finger across his throat.

"Are you guys really going to walk away from a job like this because of a reputation?" Oren asked, staring at his crew. "Do you know how much Madame Rabor has vowed to pay us? 90,000 credits! 90,000 credits to steal some crystal!"

Sarela abruptly stood up for her seat, "Oren, I'm not dying over some rock!" she exclaimed, pointing her finger down to the floor. "I-"

"No, you are going to listen to what I say!" Oren interrupted, pointing his finger at Sarela and she tilted her head downward, raising an eyebrow. "For far too long now you've been thinking you're the captain!"

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd stop making such terrible decisions!" Sarela snapped.

Oren went deathly still as an uncomfortable silence blanketed over the ship, the atmosphere was suffocatingly thick and tense. It was as if they were all inside balloon, all one had to do is take a needle and pop it to unleash the hostility that had been escalating between Oren and Sarela.

"Is that what you think?" Oren asked, his voice low and throat taut.

"Yeah, it is," Sarela responded, with a nod of her head.

"Heh," Oren chuckled, rubbing his chin. "You think you're some sort of savior, huh Sarela?" he questioned again, this time mockingly.

"Well,-" Anesa began, lifting her hands up.

"Shut up Anesa!" Oren snapped, glaring at the Mirialan.

"I never said that, but with your tendency to make rash decisions such as this one..." Sarela paused, folding her arms against her chest. "Have you ever stopped and considered that you're partly to blame for the troubles you had in the past?" she inquired, cocking her head slightly.

Oren's nostrils flared, "Get out! he ordered. "Go!" he hissed, pointing to the ship doors.

"Oren," Lahani called, standing up from her seat on a crate.

"No, I don't want to hear whatever excuse you're about to make for her!" Oren exclaimed, throwing his hand out to the side.

"Sarela is too valuable of a crew member to lose Oren!" Elmin argued back.

"Yeah, you shouldn't kick her out because she stated a harsh truth," Thel added meekly.

Anesa went to speak as well, but Sarela just lifted her hand, "No, guys, it's fine," she stated, letting her hand drop to her side. "If that is what the Captain wants then I'll do it, I'll leave," she said, her eyes meeting those of her crew mates. Sarela turned around and picked her sniper rifle up, turning around to face Oren again. "They say that Gantu likes to keep the heads of people who cross him, hopefully yours won't be the newest addition for his trophy case," she stated, before slinging her gun onto her shoulder and walking away to collect her things.

It should have ended there, at least that's what Sarela thought. She had moved back into the ratty apartment that she occupied before joining Oren's crew and began taking on solo work again. Two weeks had passed since Sarela had left the crew, but she still talked to Anesa whenever she could. That was until Anesa went completely radio silent one day, at first Sarela thought nothing of it, she shrugged it off as her being busy. The same night, Sarela tried calling her friend again but was once again met with no response.

A sinking feeling had began to set inside Sarela and she would soon find out why.

Two more days had passed since Sarela hadn't heard from Anesa or anybody from the crew. Worried as she was, Sarela knew that she couldn't put her life on hold for them, she had to make living herself.

Stepping off shuttle bus that just stopped in her district, Sarela walked back to where her home was on the third floor of an apartment building. She ascended the dark stairway pressing her fingers to the door latch so it slid open. Quietly whistling to herself, Sarela heard the hiss of the door closing behind her and then she heard a creak somewhere in the apartment.

Sarela's hand immediately went for her blaster, resting on it as her eyes scanned the room and the hallway to her left. The atmosphere in her home had become deathly still and an eerie silence swept over the cramped apartment. If someone was was the apartment with Sarela, they must've realized that she was onto them. Sarela resumed her whistling and silently removed her blaster from its holster, she'd hope that the noise would throw off the possible intruder. With her blaster aimed out in front of her, Sarela soundlessly moved from the front door to the entrance of the hallway only to abruptly stop whistling again on purpose.

And that was then she heard it again, a subtle creak and this time she heard breathing that wasn't her own. Sarela's fingers tightened around her blaster, someone was in here with her. They were in her home. She shifted herself into a better position, readying herself for an attack before stepping in place to give the allusion that she was walking down the hallway.

Suddenly, she could hear rapid movement from within her bedroom and the door was thrown open. Sarela quickly took cover behind the wall closest to her as a hail of blaster bolts whizzed past her head, destroying anything that was in her kitchen. When the firing stopped Sarela knew that this was her window of opportunity, whoever this was would have to wait for their weapons to cool down. With the smoke of from the blaster bolts, she stepped out from cover and repeatedly pulled the trigger on her blaster. The sound of a thud echoed in the apartment and Sarela paused keeping completely still.

But after hearing nothing for several seconds and the smoke clearing up she moved down the hall and looked at her would be assassin. He was human, that much was sure as she had shot him right in the heart. The other bolts she fired had wound hitting his gut and chest. Sarela kicked the gun out of his hand, but as she did so she noticed a winding tattoo on the man's arm. Squatting down, Sarela lifted the dead's man arm to inspect the tattoo more closely and her eyes widened once she recognized ink on the man's arm.

He was part of Gantu's crew.

She quickly dropped the man's arm as if had some sort of plague. An awful realization crossed Sarela's mind, the job that Oren had took had failed, the crew was dead. And now Gantu was after her. It was the only logical explanation that she could come up with for Gantu to come after her. Loud bangs against Sarela's front door made her jump and her head snapped in the direction of the door. Her heart began beating erratically in her chest as she slowly rose to her full height, keeping a tight grip on her blaster.

Carefully, Sarela quietly made her way back to the front door just as another string of thunderous knocks echoed about in the silent apartment. Once at the door Sarela readjusted her grip on her weapon and inhaled deeply.

"Sarela! Sarela, please answer!"

The tenseness in Sarela's body seemingly vanished once she heard the voice on the other side of her door. She knew that voice. It was Anesa's. Without a moment's notice Sarela opened her door to be greeted with the sight of a badly bruised and bloody Anesa, almost instantly she nearly collapsed to the ground but Sarela was able to catch her in time and bring her into the apartment.

"Maker! Anesa, you look awful! What happened?" Sarela questioned, scanning over her friend's appearance.

Anesa tightly gripped Sarela's forearm, her fingernails digging into her skin, "We were betrayed!" Anesa hissed, a crazed look in her eyes.

"Wha-" Sarela began.

"He sold us out!" Anesa spat, cutting Sarela off.

"Who?" Sarela asked, shaking her head still bewildered as to what was happening.

"Thel,"

It was there in Sarela's apartment as she patched up Anesa that she learned of Thel's betrayal. From what Anesa told her it was clear was that the crew had been a set up. The heist hadn't even taken place when Anesa found the Galaxy Horizon ransacked with all types equipment strewn about, but the grimmest discovery was seeing a trail of blood that led down the cargo door.

Human blood.

Anesa panicked, as one would, for she didn't know what happened to her Captain or the rest of the crew for that matter. That's when Anesa was struck hard from behind on the head, causing her to crumple to the ground. She felt her consciousness slipping away from her, but not before she heard Thel's voice talking with Gantu henchmen. And it became clear to Anesa who was at fault for what happened to Oren and now her. From what she'd heard, Thel had made a deal with Gantu to spare his life in exchange for the crew's. Lahani and Elmin never stood a chance, they were going to be blindsided in the worst way.

The slimey twi'lek was so scared of Gantu's wrath that he sacrificed his own friends to save his skin.

Anesa was lucky to escape with her life, the only way she was able to was by playing possum as one of Gantu's men carried her over his shoulder. They were taking her to Gantu's compound to do Maker knows what, but Anesa knew it would probably be the same fate as Oren's. So, as she dangled over the mercenary's shoulder, Anesa nimbly grab the man's vibrodagger and jab it into his back. He dropped her to the ground unceremoniously as he let out a howl pain, but there was no time to waste. Scrambling to her feet, Anesa yanked the dagger from the mercenary's back and with laser precision flung the dagger into the other mercenary's throat.

And this is why Sarela has been holed on this planet, all because of one rash decision and a cowardly betrayal.

Sarela briefly shut her eyes and exhaled before shutting the projector off, she and Anesa had managed to escape Gantu's claws, for how long she didn't know. That's why Sarela felt best they go their separate ways, better safe than sorry.

Sarela just hoped her new partnership would fair better than her previous one.

AN: There’s barely any mention of our favorite Mando, but I wanted to give some backstory to Sarela.

Part IV

[victoria-daydreams]

Lost in the Stars

AN: My first attempt of writing a Star Wars fanfiction and first time writing for the Mandalorian, go easy on me. Sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Summary: When Sarela Reyes accepted a bounty to find some missing child it should have been a simple job. What she got instead was a chance meeting with a certain Mandalorian, and her world was never the same.

Sarela Reyes sipped on her glass of brandy as she patiently sat in a corner of a crowded cantina named Plo's awaiting the arrival of one Zef Vanel, a man that had a job for her. She sat with her legs crossed as her eyes swept over the cantina, surveying everyone and everything. At first glance people would assume that there was nothing special about the chestnut skinned woman. She was, by all appearances what an average human female would look like. That is not to say she was a plain woman, she's actually quite lovely and has been told that many times.

Sarela was a young woman of average height with an athletic yet curvy build. Her black, tightly coiled hair framed her round face, bringing attention to her round shaped eyes that were like pools of honey and cinnamon. One would almost mistake her for being a native of the planet until they heard her speak. Her accent was very distinct, it would either drive people away in disgust or bring them in closer just for the opportunity to shower her with empty flatteries of her appearance.

But Sarela didn't really care what people thought of her. Her appearance was only a tool like her blaster, or her fists if need be. She used it when it proved to be useful.

The young woman tapped her fingers on the table, observing the cantina that was bustling with life as the band played an upbeat song and drunken humans and aliens spoke obnoxiously loud in a variety of languages. Seven months ago, Sarela would've turned her nose up and scowl at her surroundings, but now the sight of seeing puddles of vomit and witnessing gunfights at Plo's was commonplace.

However, that's not to say Sarela would prefer to be here, the last seven months had not been kind to her. Her life had been upended on the previous planet she lived on and was pretty much left with nothing because of it. In the months that Sarela arrived here she had worked a dozen jobs ranging from small time smuggling and even a few bounties. She knew that with the skills she had she was far above the jobs she'd been receiving. But she took them anyway because it was good fun and easy credits.

Sarela's full shaped lips struggled to hold back a smirk at the sight approaching her before she knocked back the rest of her brandy. A fat, human man approached her table and once the man spotted the woman he outstretched his arms. He appeared to be in his mid forties and skin was olive-toned and had closely cropped brown hair. He wore a long green vest over his long-sleeve cream collared shirt, black pants, and knee high boots.

"Reyes!" the man bellowed happily. "My friend!" he added, sliding in the seat in across from Sarela in her booth.

Sarela didn't consider the man in front of her a friend, sure he was the first person she met on this planet and he gave her small jobs to get on her feet financially. The only reason he helped Sarela was because he thought she was some beautiful, small fragile thing, until he saw her easily defend herself against three people in this cantina after they picked a fight with her.

That same night Zef asked her about being a hired gun to keep him safe, at first Sarela didn't understand why Zef need a gun to protect him. But after spending one week with him she realized why as Zef had the awful habit of swindling the local crime lords or anyone gullible enough to fall for his schemes.

And it is for that reason that Sarela wouldn't trust Zef as far as she could throw him.

Sarela shook her head, "Zef," she greeted dryly, her voice was elegant and poised like most accents from the core world. "You're late," she stated, looking down at her nails.

"I can't even get a simple greeting Reyes?" Zef questioned, as a waitress placed down a plate of food and a mug of ale.

"Let's not play games old friend," Sarela said, lifting her head to look at him. "Why did you ask me here?" she inquired.

"You were never one for pleasantries Reyes," Zef commented, as he set his meaty elbows on the table.

"What's the job Zef?" Sarela asked slowly, and her thick Imperial accent was more pronounced due to her growing impatience.

Zef busied himself in cutting up his chicken, "There's a child that's missing," he explained, before taking a bite of his meal.

Sarela's eyes narrowed and she slightly leaned forward, "This is what you had me waiting an hour for?" she inquired. "For some missing kid?" she questioned, letting out a scoff. Sarela stood up from the table. "Unbelievable," she shook her head. "Go find someone else Zef. I have better things to do!" she hissed, before walking away.

Zef's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, "6,000 credits," Zef whispered harshly, just loud enough for Sarela's ears to hear it and she stopped in her tracks. "That's how much they're offering," he added, and she slowly turned on her heels.

Zef let go of her wrist, "6,000 credits for some missing kid?" Sarela inquired, arching her brow. "Who's the kid?" she asked, now sliding back into the seat.

"It's Vullen's daughter," Zef answered, taking a swig of his ale.

Sarela's eyes widened, "The Mayor's daughter?" she repeated. "Missing?" she asked, now intrigued.

Zef nodded his head, "I had the same reaction as well," he stated, drinking more of his ale. Zef reached down and dug into his vest pocket and lightly tossed his holoprojector onto to the table. "Here she is," Zef commented, tapping the holo. "Little Lora Vullen," he announced, stretching his hand out.

Sarela studied the hologram of the young girl. She was a small and slim child with fair skin and light brown wavy hair that stopped at her shoulders. Light freckles sprinkled across her upturned nose and cheeks and her blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the hologram.

"She can't be older than what, eleven?" Sarela guessed, lifting her gaze to Zef's.

"Twelve," he corrected, turning off the holo and putting it back into his pocket.

"This is not like the other jobs you given me Zef," Sarela stated. "Why are you tell me?" she questioned, folding her arms over her chest.

"Well I figured a woman like yourself would be best for the job compared to others," he began, and Sarela lifted an eyebrow.

She knew what Zef was getting at, unlike them, she had proper training. And she knew that in Zef's eyes that made her more ruthless as any accomplished bounty hunter and even more skilled and quick-witted as the best smugglers.

Zef sighed in exasperation, "Come on Reyes, you and I both know that you have skills that are far superior to the common gun for hire," Zef continued, doing his best to persuade her. "This is a delicate situation, I'm sure Vullen doesn't want the riff raff putting their dirty little hands on his daughter," he added.

"As far as Vullen's concerned, I am apart of the riff raff," Sarela countered. "He might hate me even more since I'm an ex-Imperial," she pointed out.

"It's been years, who cares at this point. The war is over," Zef replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Letting out a sigh Sarela squeezed the bridge of her nose, "Alright, say if I take the job," she began, looking up at Zef again. "What's in it for you Zef?" Sarela asked.

Zef laughed, "You know me too well Reyes," he said, shaking his head. "I was hoping if everything goes right then Vullen would appoint me into that recently vacant administrator position," he explained, a grin on his face.

"Of course you were," she chuckled.

"So you'll take the job?" Zef asked, as the door to the cantina opened behind Zef.

Sarela watched as a man wearing shiny silver armor that matched with the helmet covering his head enter into the cantina. Instantly, she felt her blood run cold as she immediately recognized the armor. Beskar. The man was a Mandalorian, a mercenary. It was only matter time before her past caught up with her. Maker, she didn't even get to live a full year on this planet without someone coming after her.

"Reyes," Zef called, snapping his fingers.

Sarela shook her head from her daze, "I'll take the job," she confirmed, nodding her head. "Five percent cut as always?" Sarela questioned, holding out her hand.

"Ten?"

"Don't get greedy Zef. Five or no deal," Sarela responded, her hand hung waiting.

"Fine...five," Zef agreed and they shook hands. "I will see you at Vullen's office tomorrow morning," he said, lightly hitting the table and standing up from it.

"Tomorrow it is," she repeated, flipping her hood up.

Zef nodded and walked away from her, quickly greeting someone else in the cantina. Sarela's eyes made their way back to the Mandalorian who was now speaking to Plo, the man who owned the cantina.

"Good," Sarela thought.

He wouldn't notice her slipping out of here. Sarela lifted her scarf that ran down almost to her waist and tightened it around the lower half of her face. She slid out from the booth she was sitting in and steathily walked past the armored man, keeping her eyes straight ahead to the door. The sound of hissing met Sarela's ears as she stepped out the cantina and into the sunny streets of the surrounding market. She squinted her eyes as they adjusted to the bright daylight after the darkness of the cantina.

Sarela moved along with the crowd, blending in easily as she pretended to shop for fruit in the street market. As she walked along the busy market Sarela subtly kept her hands on her belt where her vibroblade was sheathed in its holster as well as her blaster on her thigh. Sarela bent down at another fruit stand, picking up the produce to inspect it and froze momentarily.

She suddenly got the feeling she was being watched.

She smiled at the vendor as she placed the fruit back down onto the stand before she pressed on through the crowd, this time quickening her pace. Sarela maintained her calm demeanor and made herself uninteresting as possible as a squad of guards brushed past her as they patrolled the market square. Her brown eyes scanned her surroundings and noticed an alleyway that she was nearly approaching. Sarela made a sharp turn into the alleyway and spotted a ladder from the fire escape attached to the building. Sarela ran towards it and leaped onto the ladder, nimbly climbing to the top and quickly ducking into the open window.

Just as Sarela planted her feet on the floor of the abandoned room she saw a figure enter into the alleyway as well. It was just as Sarela suspected, she was being followed, and by that Mandalorian no less. The Mandalorian had his gun drawn as he slowly walked deeper into the alley, keeping his head on a swivel for any sign of her. Sarela watched as the Mandalorian holster his gun, seeing that there was no one in the alley and he turned his back toward the window she was hiding in. Silently, Sarlea climbed out the window still observing the armored man's movements.

The Mandalorian began to walk out of the alley just as Sarela landed gracefully on the ground without making a sound. She crept behind the man, readying herself for a fight.

"Looking for me?" she called, and the Mandalorian immediately turned around only to receive a powerful kick to the gut and let out a loud grunt.

The Mandalorian stumbled back from the blow before regaining his footing as Sarela charged at him. She kicked her legs out forward into a crane kick which the Mandalorian blocked with his arms, quickly throwing a punch into Sarela's gut. She gasped sharply, the blow knocked the air out of her as she dropped to the ground. The Mandalorian roughly grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her up close to his helmet.

"What do you want?" the Mandalorian questioned, his voice gravelly.

Sarela stared into the dark shaded visor, "I should be asking you the same thing," she retorted, swiftly she reached down for her vibroblade and jabbed it towards his throat.

The Mandalorian reflexes were faster as he stopped her strike with his other hand and knocked the blade from her hand. Sarela grunted in frustration and yanked her knee up into the man, hearing a groan escape his mouth. The man struck his fist out, hitting Sarela across the face sending her down to the ground hard. She let out a groan of her own, twisting herself around just in time to see the Mandalorian with his blaster out and aiming at her. Using her agility, Sarela kicked the tip of his blaster away, she could hear it blast the ground beside her arm. The heat from the discharge rippled near her skin.

The Mandalorian raised his arm again after readjusting his grip around the blaster only to see Sarela her tightly holding her blaster in her grip, leveling it at him with her finger on the trigger. They were at a stalemate and Sarela could tell the Mandalorian was weighing his options just as she was.

"Why did you leave that cantina in such a rush?" the Mandalorian asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Why did you go after me?' she asked back, breathing heavily as her finger still rested on the trigger.

"I asked first,"

"Maybe I get a little jumpy when I see a Mandalorian appear out of nowhere," Sarela suggested, faintly feeling the hood from her scarf began to slip off her dark hair. "Now back to my question," she continued. "Why did you come after me?" she inquired. "Was it for a bounty? Tell me, how much was I worth this time?" she questioned.

"I'm not here for you," the Mandalorian stated. "I'm here to stop you from returning the child and collecting the bounty,"

"Stars above!" Sarela exclaimed. "You chased me down for Vullen's daughter?" she sassed incredulously.

The Mandalorian aim on her seem to waver slightly, "Vullen?" he asked.

"Yes! Vullen, the Mayor!" she snapped.

"There was a man in the cantina bragging to the barman saying you gotten a bounty for a child that's worth good amount of credits," The Mandalorian explained. "He said you and him were going to become very rich people," he finished.

Sarela exhaled deeply, "I'm going to kill Zef," she growled.

Part II