ii

(Nova's POV)

 I bolt upright, a scream dying on my lips as the last of the nightmare fades away. Sighing tiredly, I wipe my face of the sweat and tears that had gathered in my panic and try to rise from my small cot, only to realize I've tangled myself in the thin, coarse blanket. I struggle for a good few minutes before finally managing to free myself of the trap I put myself in. Standing, I stretch before going to open the window and looking out over the grasslands of Dantooine, admiring the blanket of onyx and the twinkling stars littering the dark backdrop. 

I don't know why I come back to my home planet. I don't even know if Dantooine truly is my home planet. I was so young when I was sold into slavery, too young to remember my home, my parents or even my last name. Besides, all of the child slaves were demanded to forget everything and focus only on serving, and my childhood memories faded away with time to be replaced by new memories that were so much worse. Memories that still haunt me years later.

I suppose I return to Dantooine simply because of familiarity, or maybe it's because I have nowhere else to go, nobody else to stay with. I learned a long time ago that the only person who was going to look out for and care about me was myself, that nobody else gives a damn what happens to me, the scrawny little girl who just wanted to be loved but had her childhood ripped away from her far too quickly.

I sigh, shaking my head to rid myself of the plaguing memories. There's no use dwelling on the past. All that matters is the next moment and nothing else.

Well, since I'm up, I might as well eat. Get an early start to my day before I go out to receive my jobs. Maker, I can't remember the last time I had a day off.

Catching food is easy enough, and while my time with my master as a slave was absolutely nothing less than wretched and dreadful, I did come away with quite a few survival skills. Ones that the lazy imp didn't even know. Cooking happens to be one of those, simply because Varlos, my master, never cared enough to get his insolent ass out of a chair to make food. It didn't matter if I was dying, or if I burned myself; I was to cook him a fine meal without setting flame to anything, and bring it to him wherever he may be. If I didn't, I was whipped. 

 If anything, he deserved what he got. But at least I know I was smarter than the fucker by age eight, with all of the things i had to learn.

As I focus on making my meal, I hear the whirring of a ship's engine. It sounds extremely faint, so they must've landed it far away to not alert me. If they're even here for me. But, unfortunately for them, I've always had better hearing than most.

As I hear them approach, I keep my eyes on my task even though my hearing is directed elsewhere. I don't want them to know I'm aware of their presence, trying to give myself as much of an advantage as possible. I almost curse aloud when I nearly burn my food, too focused on the intruder.

Although I was expecting it, I still jump slightly as the door to my hut is thrown off of its hinges entirely, an armored man stalking through the now-empty doorway with his blaster ready, poised at eye-level and ready to strike me down.

"Yeah, the door's a bit weak. You wouldn't mind setting that back up before you leave, would you?" I comment, pulling up the facade that I use while on jobs. My opponents don't need to spot any hint of weakness.

The man doesn't reply, only moving closer to me, pistol aimed. I sigh. "That's not terribly polite of you." I finally look up from my task, tilting my head as I see worn Beskar armor. I'm being hunted by a Mandalorian?? Well, that's new. Although, I suppose everyone's after my head these days.

I realize this man isn't going to respond, and I give up trying to talk to him. Taking the cooked meat and setting it on a dish to cool, I slowly raise my hands until they rest in the air next to my head. Then, quicker than he can blink, I conjure a knife made purely of light and send the blade through the air, knocking his blaster harshly out of his hands. Not wasting a moment, I proceed to run at my opponent.

He grunts as I tackle him, landing on his chest. Not being stupid enough to try to punch Beskar steel, I roll off and to my feet before he can react. I then face him, and to my surprise he's already on his feet. Deciding I have no choice but to be on the defensive, unable to really do any damage through his armor, I block every punch he sends my way, and even the occasional kick. I try to analyze his fighting pattern as best I can, looking for chinks in his armor, but he's almost as fast as me and I don't succeed in my counterattacks. He repeatedly strikes, but to no avail as he can't get through my defenses either.

He manages to get me pinned against the wall briefly, and while I struggle to get out of his strong, vice-like grip, he takes the moment to make a snarky comment. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

Gathering my strength, I shoot back, "Bite me, jackass." before pushing off of the wall with enough force to free myself from him. And just like that, we're back to where we began.

We go at it for a bit longer, neither making very much headway because with his armor still on him, we're evenly matched. Looks like I may have to fight a little dirty if I want to get away from this fight unscathed.

I shove him, stunning him for a moment. Welcoming the distraction, I elbow him in the helmet (it was worth a try, although it probably hurt me more than it did him) before roundhouse kicking him in the chest. He stumbles to the floor and I leap onto his chest with a delicate grace, calling yet another dagger made of light to my hand and positioning it lightly under his mask, where his neck is.

"I win," I whisper sharply. To my surprise, he laughs slightly, before I feel a piercing electrical pain in my side and look down to see a rifle electrocuting the tender flesh that I had left unguarded in my arrogance. I fall to the side, off of the Mandalorian, as the world around me fades to black.

>>>>><<<<<

I awaken much more slowly than i had this morning, my mind cloudy and my side aching. I suppose he realized he would have to fight unfairly too, because that was quite the dirty move.

I try to stand, only to realize my hands are cuffed at the wrists, the chains coiled around a pipe. I roll my eyes. He must not know who he was sent after. I create a knife of light in my hands and drag it through the metal, cutting the cuffs and freeing myself. I then make my way silently down the hallway, noticing by my surroundings that we're in his ship. Turns out, as I find a ladder, that he locked me in the belly of the machine.

I creep up the ladder, pulling myself up at the top while making sure no sound can alert him of my approach. When I get to the cockpit, I dash forward and place a bright, pale knife at his throat, holding him from behind. Thankfully, his electrocuting rifle is across the tiny area. 

"Now," I bend down, my face right next to his helmet as I speak in a silky yet dangerous tone. "Let's try this again. You're going to answer my questions, or I'm going to kill you and take all your shit. Yes?" Of course, the man doesn't answer me, so I dig the knife in a little deeper, cutting into the fabric at his neck and drawing a drop of blood. "Answer me, Mandalorian." I hiss.

"Yes." comes the single syllable, low and somewhat obstructed by his helmet. I won't remove it, knowing from my studies how important it is to their people that they keep their helmets on. Besides, I don't need to take it off to do damage.

"Good." I pause for a moment, thinking. "Who is it that's hunting me? Who am I being brought to?" I ask, in a tone that demands an answer and nothing less. 

 "I don't know." comes the deep reply. I scoff. Lies.

"Of course you do. I know how this works; you know who the client is. Tell me."

"All I know is that he's Imperial. There were troopers where we met. The job was... unusually secretive. They could only give me your name, last known location, and age. I don't know who he works for, or even a name." The Mandalorian explains, in the most words I've ever heard him use. I almost step back in surprise, as I wasn't expecting him to even answer my question, but i quickly regain my composure and manage to keep the knife against his throat.

"So you don't know who wants me?" A shake of the head. "Nor why?" 

"I told you. No. They're keeping me in the dark. I didn't ask for more." he replies, a bit of hardness in his voice.

"Okay. Where are we going?" I ask, moving on.

"Arvala-7. I have another bounty to pick up, and then to Nevarro so I can turn you both in." My heart stops as I hear both of those locations. One, I arrived on with a passenger and left alone, trying to do the best thing I could think of to keep my companion safe. I haven't even checked on him. Yes, it was safer not to, but... what if something happened?

And Nevarro. That place doesn't hold a single good memory. In all my years as a bounty hunter, that was the planet I hated the most. I'm now forbidden there, but I never liked that dusty, dirty desert of a planet, anyways.

I take a breath, before stepping away from the man. He shows almost no reaction, staying still as I release him, but I can tell by the way the lines of his shoulders stiffen that he's surprised.

I sink into the seat behind him as memories crash into my mind in a violent storm, trying in vain to keep them away. I can't show weakness. Especially not in front of a Mandalorian.

It takes me a minute, but I finally escape from the trauma's grip. For now. I come back to reality, and realize I have to make a decision. Either I can go with this bounty hunter and see who the hell wants what with me, or I can escape. But, if I escape, I'll have to change locations. I'll never be able to stop running, and they'll never stop hunting me. Sooner or later I'll get caught, and probably killed. At least if I'm prepared for it, maybe I have a chance. And plus, practically nobody's taking me for jobs anymore because of the huge price on my head. Things are already heading south for me, so what's the harm of going?

 I take a breath, trying to steel myself for what's to come. I'm really surrendering myself, willingly. And if something were to happen to me, the deaths of everyone in that village, the people who had welcomed me so kindly, the children who had died because of me... it would all be in vain.

I'll just have to make sure it isn't. 

>>>>><<<<<

We arrive on Arvala-7 far too quickly for my liking. The Mandalorian tries to cuff me again before we leave, but I refuse.

"Don't make this difficult." He says gruffly. I continue to shake my head.

"Listen. You're not cuffing me, or you'll get your throat slit before you can do a thing about it. I'll play nice, don't worry." I argue, finality clear in my tone.

"No. I don't trust you. Put them on." He insists. Maker, he's really stubborn, isn't he? And quite intimidating for a man of such few words. Still, I don't budge.

"They don't work anyways, remember?" I try, but evidently he won't listen to reason as he shoves them towards me once again. They slam against my abdomen, probably a little harder than he meant for them to. My instincts kick in before my brain can do anything about it, and in less than a second I'm holding a knife of pure light aimed at the base of his throat. Clearing my own, I step back once I regain my bearings.

"That's exactly why I can't trust you." He tosses them at my feet. "I'll be back. I expect those to be on."

"Oh, come on, that was an accident!" I call after him as he walks out of the ship. As expected, no reply is offered.

I glance at the metal restraints, scoffing. Yeah, not happening. 

 I wait for a couple of minutes before going out after the armored man, preparing my argument and/or my defense should he lash out at me. Turns out, though, it wasn't really needed. Upon walking out, I see the Beskar-clad figure on the ground, the jaws of an unconscious blurrg clamping down hard on his forearm and another lying at his feet. An Ugnaught sits above him, upon a blurrg of his own.

All I catch of their brief conversation is, "I have spoken," from the Ugnaught before he turns his beast and begins making his way away from the now-free Mandalorian.

Said bounty hunter sighs, turning to make his way back to the ship before seeing me, leaning casually against the door to the ship. He jerks his head in a motion meaning for me to follow him, and I jog slightly to catch up as he's already turned to follow the Ugnaught. 

"What was that about?" I inquire, but as per usual, my question goes utterly ignored.

"You're not wearing them." he instead points out after a pause, meaning the cuffs he demanded i put on earlier.

"Yeah, they clashed with the jacket." My tone drips with sarcasm, but in all honesty, the cuffs gave me more anxiety than I'd like to admit. Being a slave throughout most of your childhood doesn't make restraints any more likeable than they are. Besides, nobody wants to be in cuffs.

The man tilts his head- well, helmet- to look down at me. I offer a grin, and I can hear the barely audible scoff through the mask. "I specifically told you-"

"Here's what I've been thinking." I interrupt swiftly. "Things haven't been going too great the past couple of months. I figure, turn myself in, see who's coming for my head and why, eliminate the threat, and then everybody's happy. You get your payment, I get a brief period of freedom before somebody else decides they want to kill me."

"I still can't trust you." he points out, after a moment of consideration.

"You don't need to. But you can trust that I don't go back on my word, and I'm telling you right now: I'll go with you willingly. You'll turn me in, get your reward, go home and forget we ever met. I won't hurt you, I won't sabotage you." I can sense his reluctance to agree, but also his urge to do so. I'm trying to make this easy for him. He wants to take the deal, I can tell. Still, he hesitates. "Don't worry, I'll play nice." I assure him.

"And if you're lying?" he asks, as one last precaution.

"I'm not. Right now, finding this 'client' of yours is in my best interests. That requires you. I'm simply looking out for myself." 

"That doesn't make me feel any better." he states evenly, his voice portraying no emotion.

"It should." I pat his arm reassuringly, a small smirk on my face. He isn't arguing anymore, which means for now, I've won. "I'll let you know if my interests change."

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