Private Chakaar

[Haastal Haran]

Chakaar - a corpse robber or petty thief.
Refueling Station along the Pando Spur
Safira Haran
​

They'd finally settled on a destination and not long after they were able to get underway. With Damsy in agreeance to push forward on the new path, there was not much left between them and their new objective, however there were still some pitstops to be had. Not far along their journey the ship they had was in need of fuel. There were hundreds of small refueling moons in the Outer Rim and Wild Space, places where a starship could pop in and top off their fuel for a ridiculous price and keep pushing to their destination, whether it be in the Mid-Rim or the depths of Wild Space. The moon that the crew had landed on was a larger depot, which meant the prices tended to be minorly better. The moon was rather barren, save for the most minimal of vegetation. There were a few dozen landing pads surrounding a patch-work town of machinery and shabby buildings.

While the ship was being refueled and serviced, Haastal had found a large rock in the distance where he could watch the refueling teams. It would take them some time to ensure the services were all completed and the ship was topped off, so there wasn't much call to stay on the ship while he could stretch his legs. The Mandalorian wore his Beskar'gam. His Beskar'gam. No, it was more accurate to say it was the Beskar'gam of the man who had actually made Haastal a Mandalorian and gifted him with the name of Verd.

When Haastal thought back to the promise he'd made to Haastal Verd I, he wondered if the Mandalorian would have scolded him for the path he chose. He'd agreed to become a Mandalorian and for some time he'd worked with House Verd closely, but that time had come to an end and now? There was no Haastal Verd, only Haastal Haran. A name that had zero meaning thus far.

Haastal drug his field knife against a straightening stone. He tried not to think about the ordeal too much.

"Everything ok, friend?" A voice called out, causing the Mandalorian's hand to rush to the blaster pistol on the side of his hip. When he looked up there was a small creature, cowering from the man's caution. The small creature could not have been a meter tall, with shabby clothing and a length of rope clutching his britches tight to his body.

"I ain't your friend." Haastal remarked before reaching down for the stone he'd dropped. "Feth off." He ordered. The creature did not leave immediately, instead he merely took a few steps back before pointing to the helmet Haastal set on the side of the rock.

"You're a Mandalorian aren't you? The visor, it has that shape we heard about in the stories." That was when Haastal leveled his eyes against the native with an visibly agitated expression. "Hey man are you deaf?" This just caused the creature to tilt it's head in confusion. "No, not deaf, I'm a Lurmen, friend." Haastal exhaled once again before turning back to the task at hand, trying his best to ignore the alien. Of course, that didn't stop the boy from speaking up. "We hear lots of stories in the port and shops about Mandalorians, you know?" Haastal wasn't interested, yet he mockingly muttered out. "Oh yea, like what?"

"Well, for one you wear the strongest metal in the galaxy and..." The Lurmen took a step forward, causing Haastal's eyes to glance up.

"And?"

"And there's a lot of people who would pay a fortune for just a shaving of Beskar...let alone a whole piece." Haastal was about to look back down to his knife but that was when the Lurmen yelled out. "Now!"

"Wha-" Haastal was about to speak but before he could another Lurmen appeared from nowhere, hopping onto his back and pulling a mesh sack over his face. Haastal struggled, reaching back to grab the creature, however he couldn't find the lithe little rat. In fact all he succeeded in doing was flinging himself back off of the rock. He fell to the ground with a hard slam, growling out as he slammed his armored elbow into the ground. An audible click could be heard from his wrist just before he aimed it for the rock. Flames flew from his arm, bathing the rock in orange fire for several moments until Haastal finally stopped. He exhaled, groaning a bit while bringing his hand to the back of his head. A nasty bruise would definitely form there from where he'd hit the ground.

The Mandalorian pushed himself to his feet, glancing around to see if there were any more of the rats around. He turned to the rock and found nothing. Not a charred corpse, not a Lurmen....and not his helmet. Immediately he began to glance around, searching to see if the helmet had fallen off the side of the rock. All he found was dirt and charred rock around him. "Fuck!" He yelled out before slamming his boot into the bolder he'd been sitting on. He grabbed the rock formation, slamming his metallic boot against it again and again while yelling a string of curses in Mandalorian. "Haar'chak! Oritsir!"

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

Change was one of those things that could swing either way. Whether it was positive or negative, it was always scary. At first, all Safira could feel was the fear. Fear of leaving everything she’d ever known. Fear of trying something new. Fear of a number of things that she couldn’t even quantify in words, but none of that fear could have possibly made her regret this change. Out of all the paths she’d taken in life, this one felt the most secure. The least likely to crumble beneath her feet as she walked it.

Haastal and Damsy were the ones that made that possible. They were the ones that cemented the path until it felt as stable as anything Safira had ever known. There would always be fear, and they would always need courage. There would be dangers aplenty, and no doubt they’d come across some hard times, but as long as she had those two? None of that really mattered.

Safira stretched her aching muscles limb by limb. For once, her arms were not restricted to the height of the ship, or her legs to the length of her bunk. From those few weeks of travel alone, Safira gained a new appreciation for solid ground and sleazy fuel stops. Even if that solid ground was covered in grey dust and barren as far as the eye could see, and the sleazy fuel stop was still trying to overcharge them by a mile. She was just glad to be off the ship.

When Haastal went to moon bathe, Safira dipped inside the station to haggle the price down from extortionate to beastly. There were a few other things they were lacking too, which she managed to throw into the deal. Pretty much everything lacked quality here, but it was better than going without. By the time she was finished, the ship wasn’t even a quarter way full. With the supplies in hand, she turned to scan the barren landscape for the familiar outline of Haastal.

However, when she did find him, he wasn’t lounging on the grey dust soaking in rays of starlight like she had expected. He was stood. Kicking the kriff out of a rock and screaming some choice words that carried far across the empty moon.

Safira rolled her eyes.

She took a rather leisurely stroll over to where Haastal was. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him from first glance, so Safira wasn’t in a hurry. He’d probably just chipped the paint on his beskar or something. Or maybe the rock wasn’t quite the right shape for his back. Who knew? There were a whole plethora of things that could spark the fires of rage inside that man. If Safira were to list and remember them all, she’d likely be at the task for the rest of her entire life, and for all she knew she lived forever.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” She asked as the dull sound of his boot trying to dent the rock-filled her hearing aids. “You’re gonna crack something if you’re not careful.” Not the boot itself, of course. The beskar would sooner crack the rock than crumble itself, Safira was more concerned for the foot beneath the boot. That was definitely shatterable.

 

[Haastal Haran]

Safira Haran
​

Again and again Haastal kicked the rock until finally he groaned out, drawing his foot back from the rock and slamming a fist on the surface. It was only a moment later where a familiar voice called out to him. When Safira approached Haastal the man turned to his wrist, stowing the flamethrower back where it belonged while speaking in a purely pissed tone. "My helmet." He remarked, running his hand over a number of buttons on his Beskar'gam's control gauntlet. "Some fuckin' thing took it."

The man marched away before turning back to Safira. "Where the hell are they?! Little monkey-alien things." He said, trying his best to describe them, even though his rage was doing a wonderful job of clouding his mind. All he wanted to do right now was burn the entire port down, but he didn't have that luxury. "They took my helmet to sell it, you've been in the shops did you see any of those little monkey things?" He asked her before pulling his blaster pistol from his waist and making his way past Safira. "Stay here, I'm going to get my damn helmet back."

He paused for a moment before growling lowly at the town before him. The Lurmen were exceptionally small creatures and searching for them was going to be a pain in the ass. He turned back to Safira before exhaling audibly. "Think we'd get in much trouble for just blowin' the fucking place up?" He asked her.

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

Safira was half debating on reaching out to stop him when Haastal finally relented in his attack on the rock. With a brow half-raised in curiosity, she watched as the last of his frustration was leaked out in a final thud against the top of the stone. “Your helmet?” She replied between his words, taking a quick glance around the immediate area to see if she could spot it. However, when Haastal revealed it had been stolen…

Her lips parted to let out a sigh of defeat. “Well, kriff.”

As Haastal began to spew every thought that came to mind, Safira could only watch on in amazement. She probably would have been the same if it had been her helmet. It wasn’t just a piece of armour to them. It was a second head, and more brains than they had put together. Now they had left Clan Verd, it was doubly important. One of them was already without a single scrap of beskar. To lose Haastal’s now would be like losing a limb.

“Yeah, Has. I think we’ll get into a lot of trouble. They have one weapon for every finger back in that shop.” Safira abandoned the supplies, stepped forward and wrapped one hand around Haastal’s arm, the other she used to lower the blaster slowly. “Look, take a deep breath, okay? We’re not gonna get anywhere with you running around like a headless Shaak on spice.” Turning her head to catch a brief glimpse of the shop she had just left behind, Safira did her best to formulate a plan.

“This is a real small moon Haas, with not a lot of places to sell expensive things like that. We’ll catch them.” Her voice was firm, and confident. Mostly because what she said was true, and the rest because they couldn’t leave without Haastal’s helmet. Period. “There is some surveillance in that shop though, let’s head back and ask them nicely if we can take a look? They could have caught something. A direction, a name, a face. Anything.”

 

[Haastal Haran]

Safira Haran ​

No one could calm Haastal down.

No one except Safira. He let out a breath of frustration when the woman said they would find his helmet. He nodded his head at her words, he believed her. He believed her because he would burn this karking moon to the ground if he didn't find that damn helmet. He let his blaster pistol fall into it's holster while he looked up to the town that laid in front of him. "Alright...alright I'll keep it cool." He looked to Safira for a moment, a meaningfully furious expression still on his face. "But when I find that motherfucker I'm goin' to roast his ass alive." He promised her.

Haastal led the way into the town with Safira close beside him. There was something about walking around without his helmet on that made him feel ridiculous. It wasn't like he never took the thing off, but he wore it out more often than he didn't. The first shop on the small strip of the shops had a number of cameras on the outside of the shabby building. Haastal glanced up at the aged devices, wondering it they'd even work. He glanced back at Safira with an uncertain expression before stepping inside.

From the spare parts and tools that littered the shop it seemed like a grease monkey's haven. A youthful Twi'lek stood behind the counter, his hands rolling over a metallic sphere that seemed as if it could have come off a starship or some kind of vehicle hatch. The Mandalorian walked up to the counter, gesturing back out the doorway. "Hey, do those cameras out there work?" He asked, yet the Twi'lek did not respond to him, in fact he didn't even look at the man. Instead all he did was sharply inhale before spitting out a thick slob of spit onto the floor beside him. Finally, the yellow skinned alien spoke, his eyes lazily drifting to the man.

"Maybe, why?" He asked.

"Someone stole somethin' from me. I need to see if they came down this strip." Haastal said, which caused the Twi'lek to turn towards the man, setting the sphere down on the counter. "Oh? An' what's it worth to ya? Maybe they're on, maybe they're off...couple of credits should answer the question." Haastal's response was a hard, almost confused stare at the Twi'lek. He fell silent for a moment before glancing down at the counter. His eyes caught one of the tools on the table and he huffed a bit.

His hand lashed out, punching the Twi'lek in the face before grabbing the back of his neck and slamming him hard against the countertop he sat behind. The man held him pinned to the table while Haastal pulled a plasma torch from the countertop. He flicked the device on, glancing away as the bright blue fire came to life before holding it down. The torch burned harshly onto the countertop, the heat roaring over the Twi'lek's face as it stood a few inches from the man. "I am really not in the fuckin' mood to be hustled right now." Haastal called out over the torch.

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

“Good.” Safira nodded her head when he agreed to keep a calm head but followed it up with a smirk when the same old Haastal leaked through at the end. “When we find them, I’ll help you, okay?” Before they set off for the town, Safira pulled her own helmet over her head. “I’m gonna put out a trace for SIRE. If that monkey thing turns it on then fingers crossed, we’ll get a location ping.” It took all of two seconds, and then they were on their way back toward the rundown shop.

Catching Haastal’s unsure look when they approached the storefront, Safira shrugged. The cameras did look dusty and a lot of the lenses had tendrilled cracks all over their surface, but it was better than nothing.

Haastal shouldered open the door, and once again Safira was drowned in the harsh fluorescent lights that flickered haphazardly on the ceiling. The man-made orange of them hurt her eyes and painted the shop in a grim shade that made everything look like it was covered in rust. Of course, most of the stuff in here was covered in rust. Safira wouldn’t have bought a ship part here if her life depended on it. The heavy thud of their boots kicked up clouds of acrid dust as they made their way over to the counter, greeted by the same yellow-skinned Twi’lek that had served her only moments before.

She was taken by surprise at the level of calmness in Haastal’s tone when he asked about the cameras. Safira honestly didn’t think he had it in him, but she kept the surprise to herself. The only thing she didn’t like was the way the Twi’lek was going on. She wanted to warn him to watch his words, to be careful where he attempted to navigate the conversation. Haastal already wasn’t in the mood for a reasonable conversation, so whether the Twi’lek knew it or not, he was blessed that Has hadn’t stormed in here with his flamer on.

Her lips parted somewhat as if she were about to protest against the Twi’leks not so subtle attempt to barter, but that was when Haastal answered for her.

Just as she suspected, his calm demeanour lasted all of two minutes.

The wet, squish the Twi’leks face made when Haastal punched him made Safira grimace. She could do nothing but watch as Haastal took control of the situation by force. “Wooow…” Safira said, to the harsh tune of the plasma torch as it hissed and fizzed an inch away from the Twi’leks face. “So much for a genteel approach, huh?” Safira didn’t care too much. As long as they weren’t putting the ship or Damsy in danger, Haastal could have as much fun as he liked with the people that tried to stop them.

Instead of waiting for the Twi’lek to reply, Safira hopped over the counter and made her way to the busted-up terminal tucked in the corner of the shop. “Don’t really need your permission, but this sure would go a lot faster if we had your password, and I’m sure you don’t want any lasting scars to remember the occasion.” She turned back to cast a glance at the Twi’lek, who by now was beading with pearls of sweat that trickled down his face and dripped onto the countertop. He glanced up at Haastal, and then back to Safira, and then his eyes were doused in a shade of violent blue as they drank in the flame of the plasma torch.

The Twi’lek swallowed, which made the flame hiss violently. “It’s burned into the desk.” He finally spoke out in a thin voice. “Underneath the terminal.”

 

[Haastal Haran]

Safira Haran
​

When Safira started talking about Haastal's approach, he shrugged. "Yea, well he pissed me off. I tried talkin'." He remarked, before burning the torch closer to the Twi'lek to summon a fresh wave of fear. When Safira made her way over to the terminal, Haastal looked down at the Twi'lek with an expectant look. He was wholly prepared to burn the man's face off when he finally revealed where the password to the terminal was hidden. Haas deactivated the torch before slamming the man's head against the hard countertop. The Twi'lek yelped out before falling back onto the floor, crying out as his hands fled to his now broken nose.

"Dumbass." Haastal regarded, before bending down to see check under the terminal. He repeated the password to Safira while the shop keeper stumbled to his feet, running out of the shop and far from the Mandalorian couple. Haastal watched the man run out and simply shook his head before turning back to the terminal. "What you got?" Safira had managed to access the shops cameras. Although the recording was stumbling and poor quality, it was enough that they could see everyone moving in and out of the shops. They watched the camera display for a time before Haastal caught sight of the Lermen. "There."

Three of the little creatures were moving quickly into the shops, however only of them had a rather large sack thrown over his shoulders.

"I can't believe I let those rats get the jump on me..." He spoke, leaning over where Safira sat and gesturing to another camera. "See if he has a shot of the marketplace." When Safira would change the image again, all three Lermen could be seen continuing down the dusty strip of shops. One of them, the one with the bag, stopped just before a middle-aged human with dirty blonde hair. The human took the sack before passing off what seemed like a handful of credits to the Lermen. "Mother-"

A blaster shot echoed out, slamming into the side of the terminal. Haas grabbed Safira, pulling her from the seat and falling back behind the counter for cover. There were a number of wild shots slamming into the wall behind them while Haastal pulled his blaster pistol from it's home on his waist. When Haastal peeked his head over the counter he could see a number of the rough looking Twi'leks, firing outdated blaster rifles for the two.

"Man, damn it! I hate this fuckin' rock." Haastal said, rising to fire off a few blaster rounds at the Twi'leks.

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

Safira knew from the grim sound filling her hearing aid that Haastal had decided to introduce the Twi’lek’s face to something hard. Fortunately, she didn’t see it. She had already shoved herself under the desk to find the passcode. It didn’t stop her from tutting loudly at it. “That’s gonna come back and bite us. Mark my words.” She commented to the tune of the Twi’lek’s body hitting the floor.

By the time Haastal had made his way over to the terminal, Safira had pulled up the security footage. The ancient, rusted machine seemed to protest loudly, but their persistence was rewarded when Haastal spotted one of the thieves.

“More like a rat than a monkey if you ask me.” Safira commented as she leant forward to get a closer view. “And you never said there were three of them.” Not that it mattered much. From what Safira could see they didn’t even come up to her waist. Taking back the helmet would literally be like taking candy from a baby. Only the candy was an extremely valuable piece of tech. She let out an unbridled laugh at Haastal when he spoke again. “I can’t believe you did either. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

The terminal screen flickered as it changed screens, bringing up an image that finally gave them a lead. Safira was just about to lean back in her seat, thinking how easy this seemed, when Haastal grasped the middle of her waist. All she could manage was a grunt of surprise as he threw them both under cover. “I TOLD you.” She hissed as she reached for the weapon clipped to her belt. There were times when she loved Haastal's rage. There were times when it was exhilarating, and Safira even encouraged it. But this was not one of those times. “Damn you and your kriffing temper.” Her voice was drowned out momentarily as she slipped her helmet over her head.

Haastal fired a cover round or two, and it was just long enough for Safira to peek over the edge herself to fire a few shots herself.

When she drew back again, she shot her T-shaped gaze at Haastal. “Close your eyes and cover your ears.” Her free hand fumbled for a second at the back of her belt to produce a flash grenade. “Now.” That was all the warning she gave him as she pulled the pin and blindly through it over the counter. There was a moment of silence where the Twi’leks attempted to work out what it was, followed by the soft clinks as it smacked into the floor.

A single, sharp beep sounded out as the grenade burst, drowning the room in blinding white light. Safira’s hearing aids weren’t quite as protected from the deafening sound it followed with, but it was enough for her to throw herself back up to the edge of the counter. Her blaster fired off, though she couldn’t hear a sound as the bolts left the barrel. The first shot found its mark, or at least, the sensor in her helmet said it had. It was coupled with a satisfying scream, and some choice words in a language Safira couldn’t understand.

The second got lost somewhere in the chaos.

Safira pulled back, pressing herself against the counter once again. “Push forward.” She kicked her boot into the side of Haastal’s leg, jutting her chin forward toward the door. At a guess, there were two left. Even numbers. Unfortunately for the Twi’leks though, they were the better shot.

 

[Haastal Haran]

Safira Haran
​

Haastal glanced over the counter as a blaster bolt slammed into the wooden surface. He fell back down, hearing Safira's words before he yelled back out. "Will you shut the hell up and shoot?!" He yelled out to her before cursing under his breath and checking his blaster pistol's charge. He rolled onto his back to see Safira prepping a flashbang grenade. A flash bang. Cover his ears? He let out a loud curse before turning from the woman, plugging his ears and burying his head down towards the ground. He hadn't heard the flashbang go over the counter, but he damn sure heard it explode out.

Bang! Immediately he opened his eyes, rising from behind the counter. There was a hellish ringing going off in the man's ears as he moved with Safira. When the woman moved back, tapping his leg with her foot he stepped back, placing a hand on her shoulder as he walked around her. He heard a man yell out, one of the Twi'leks stepping into the range of fire. He yelled something incoherently before Haastal let a number of his blaster bolts sing from his pistol. They riddled his body causing him to fall back against the floor, dead.

Haas kept moving up but he never found another body. He glanced onto the ground, counting the bodies that had accumulated in the front of the shop. None of them looked like the Twi'lek from earlier, but Haastal didn't care to wait around for him to show up. Instead he tucked his blaster pistol down into his holster before exhaling, looking to Safira. "See? Worked out just fine." He told her, flashing her that same wild smirk he usually wore after doing something crazy. He walked over to her, gesturing down to her utility belt. "Good thing you had a flashbang. I might not be able to hear a damn thing anymore, but you saved our asses." He told her.

Haastal turned to the camera terminal before seeing it had taken it's fair share of blaster bolts. He scoffed before looking to Safira. "Lets go find who he gave that bag to." He told her before tapping his hand against her armored chest. "I owe you one."

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

When Haastal finally reacted to the toe of her boot shoving him forward, Safira herself remained behind. From over the edge of the counter, she could give Haastal some cover fire. Random bolts fired at will shot through the air. It didn’t really matter whether or not they found their mark. Haastal was sure to clean them up before Safira had to do any serious aiming.

It was the lack of shots from Haastal’s weapon that caused her to stop.

Taking a quick glance around the room, she confirmed for herself that there wasn’t any further danger. “Yeah, sure.” She responded sarcastically to Haastal. “I will say though, the shop looks a hell of a lot nicer now than when we came in.” Making her way from behind the counter again, Safira clipped her blaster onto her belt once more. Hopefully, this would be the last time she needed it, but knowing Haastal…

“It was my emergency flashbang.” Safira commented teasing. “You owe me a new one.” Safira smirked at him through the visor on her helmet but said nothing more as they both exited the shop.

If Safira remembered rightly, the woman they needed wasn’t too far along the row of rundown buildings, but there was one problem. “You know, everyone’s probably ran off by now.” Safira turned her head to Haastal for a moment as their boots kicked up clouds of acrid grey dust. “That definitely wasn’t the most covert operation we’ve ever done.” As they walked further down the strip, Safira realised just how wrong she was.

“Never mind.” She said as she turned her helmet from one side of the street to the other. Each way she looked she was met with a sea of curious faces. Peering from windows or through the cracks in partially open doors. “Must be starved for entertainment out here.” She commented as she shuddered, attempting to get the sensation of being watched out of the back of her mind. There was no point in it. She knew they were being watched.

Fortunately, they were coming up to the shop they had been looking for.

Safira went first this time, preventing Haastal from doing so with a firm hand on the centre of his chest. She recalled the blurry face of whoever had accepted the bag from the rat things, and it was most definitely a woman. There were one of two ways Haastal’s brash charms could go in that situation, and Safira really didn’t like the sound of one of them. The ancient bell on top of the door groaned out a broken melody as Safira shouldered it open.

“Hello?” She called into the seemingly empty looking shop. It, for all intents and purposes, a mirror image of the shop they’d just left behind. Filled to the brim with scrap and junk that Safira was sure not even a jawa would be interested in. “What do you want?” Came the reply, from a voice that sounded like it had been sucking on cigarras all its life. “We’re looking for a helmet.” At this point Safira moved toward the counter, where she came face to face with a red-faced woman.

“Kinda like this one.” Safira tapped the edge of her own helmet with her gloved finger. “You seen it?”

 

[Haastal Haran]

Safira Haran​

The two made their way down the strip. The longer Haastal went without his helmet the more ire was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach. He didn't say much more on it, however. Instead he pulled a cigarra from a compartment on his belt, setting it in his lips while snorting at Safira's words. "They can watch two hounds screw each other for all I care, i just want my damn helmet back." He said, lighting the cylinder and exhaling a thick cloud of tobacc into the air above him.

The next shop they walked into was filled with even more scrap and junk than the last. Haastal couldn't help but look around the small space with an almost angry amount of confusion. "Do they eat this shit?" He muttered before shaking his head at what laid before them. "No wonder they stole my buy'ce. Just about everyone out here deals in bullshit scrap." When the woman came back from the back of the store Haastal turned from her with a sigh.

Haastal didn't seem too interested in the conversation. He waved a hand before calling out to Safira. "I'll be back."

He needed some damn air. At this rate the man was going to lose his damn mind in this shitty little town. When he stepped back outside he noticed that the street seemed slightly more empty than it had last time. He glanced around from shop to shop, taking notice that people were closing their doors and windows, some lowering down barriers over their shops. Suddenly....the street was empty and the lingering eyes had disappeared into the darkness of the shops.

"Yea...that's a good sign." Haastal brought his cigarra to his lips muttering softly before taking another sharp inhale. However in the next moment the Mandalorian was thrown from his feet. Some unseen force had slammed into him, throwing him into the hard, dusty ground below.

Haastal cursed, rolling over onto his back as he drew his blaster to aim at whatever had slammed into him.

Nothing. He exhaled, glancing back down the town's strip, his eyes catching both directions and holding a curious gaze. "What the hell..." He breathed, before slowly rising to a knee. "Safira...." He called out.

In the next moment another hard slam came down, causing the man to fly into the air with a wild spin. When he slammed back onto the hard ground he let out an audible groan. "Safira!" He yelled out again, holding his blaster up as he glanced around with a mad expression flooded his face.

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

“Really makes you grateful for what we have doesn’t it.” Safira said in a tone laced with thick sarcasm. She gave him a half-hearted wave with the back of her hand as he slipped out from the shop, she was far more interested in the woman behind the counter.

Leaning forward to wait for her answer, Safira watched the cogs in the woman’s mind whirring slowly. There was little doubt that they were as rusty as the rest of the crap she was trying to peddle in this shop, but Safira had all the time in the world to wait. Her gloved fingers drummed a light beat against the top of the counter, which seemed to spark a light in the woman’s head. “I seen it. What’s it to you?” The beat stopped, and though Safira had her helmet on, she shot the woman a look that she would have felt in the pit of her stomach. “I haven’t got time to play games with you. I’m the nice one. I can just as easy go outside and bring the nasty one in for you to deal with instead, but I’d rather not waste more bolts today. Just tell me what I need to know.”

After a painful moment of silence, in which Safira was sure she could see smoke coming from the woman's head, she answered. “Sold it.” Her gritty voice grunted. That was it? Sold it? Safira was just about to reach for her blaster to give the woman a little extra incentive when Haastal’s voice echoed through the dusty shop. “You lucky mother kriffer.” Safira spoke as she turned her back on the shop owner to see what all the fuss was about.

When she shouldered open the cracked door, she was met with an extremely peculiar sight. Haastal face down, in the dust. “What the kri-…” She began, but something hard and heavy slammed into her side. As she skidded across the dusty ground something else hit her. A wave of… something. She couldn’t even begin to describe it. Whatever it was, it was screaming at her to move. So much so that she could almost hear the words in the back of her head.

So, she did.

Rolling to the side, Safira felt a rush of air on the back of her neck as something with weight behind it came crashing down into the space she had been. Scrambling to get back to her feet, Safira kicked up a large cloud of grey dust with the tip of her boot. It fanned out in the general area of where the attack had come from, covering the invisible form in specks of dirt and debris. For the briefest of moments, they were visible. Acting quickly, Safira ripped the blaster off her belt and fired a single, precise shot. It was followed by a loud scream of dismay, and soon after a hard thud and another cloud of dust in the shape of a body.

“You little chit.” Safira said breathlessly as she pulled the helmet from her head. She was still rather winded from the original blow. “You okay, Has?” She turned her head to look for him, but the blaster was still trained on the attacker. She wasn’t too worried about him running at this point though. There was a puddle of scarlet red beneath where his foot should have been, and it was growing bigger by the second.

 

[Haastal Haran]

Safira Haran​

Haastal watched as the same unseen pressure fell on her, knocking her back from where she'd been standing. Haastal glanced around, unable to see what had been causing this. Then in a sudden, fluid moment Safira drew her blaster an let a single bolt fly. She fired the bolt down an alley and Haastal heard a cry of pain from the blast. The Mandalorian glanced around when Safira asked if Haastal was ok. He couldn't help but exhale before making his way over to her side. "Yea, I'm good, you ok Safi?" He asked her.

He glanced down to the man who was crying out before turning back to Safira. "How the hell did you know where he was?" Haastal had not had his helmet however he did not expect it to reveal the man's position. He seemed to be using the Force and sadly technology was not catching up to that threshold fast enough. He turned to the man who laid screaming in the alley, craning his neck as he walked over to the man. "I'm going to fucki-" He clenched his hand around the blaster he held while he made his way over to the man.

Haastal's armored boot stepped into the pool of blood while he looked to the hooded figure. He slapped the man's face with his armored gauntlet, pushing the hood back off his head. Immediately he took a handful of the figure's black hair, holding the blaster to his face.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't blow your head off." His threat was met with words from a clenched jaw. "I know where your helmet is!" He yelled out. Haastal raised the barrel of his blaster, tightening his grip on the man's hair. "Where is it?" He demanded. The man groaned audibly before shaking his head. "Promise you'll let me go." He demanded. Haastal glanced back to Safira before exhaling. "I won't kill you. Now where is my helmet?" With some hesitation the man spoke out as Haastal released the fist full of hair he'd taken. "The Hutt who is in charge of this moon....he collects Mandalorian armor...Yora the Hutt." Haastal's expression went deadpan as he placed the barrel of his blaster on the man's chest. "You gave my helmet...to a Hutt?" He asked in a low tone.

Haas exhaled, looking down to the ground for a moment in thought before standing up and turning away from the man. "I said I wouldn't kill you." He said, before holding his blaster out to Safira. "Will you please shoot him in the fething head?" He asked her.

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

As Haastal dusted himself off, Safira unclipped her helmet. It could get stuffy under there in the best of circumstances. The blow to her side had only accelerated the process. “Yeah. Fine.” She replied as she dopped the helmet onto the ground. Stale moon air wasn’t exactly what she would have called fresh, but it was better than beings surrounded on all sides by beskar.

When Haastal questioned her, she shrugged in response. “I dunno… I just did.” Her eyes shut tightly for a moment, gloved fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “It was weird. Gave me a headache.” She knew it wasn’t the HUD in her helmet. “Instinct, I hope...” Safira tried to rationalise it aloud. In any other circumstances, she would have stopped to think about it a little, but the groaning pile of chit in front of her made that impossible.

The moment Haastal turned his attention on the attacker, Safira let her blaster arm fall. Her forearm ached impossibly, but it joined in the chorus from the rest of her body, so that made little difference. Leaning back against one of the alley walls, she watched Haastal take his anger out on the attacker. At the mention of Haastal’s helmet, Safira perked up a little. “Well damn. Aren’t we lucky he bumped into us.” She said, but her words were drowned out by further shouting from Haastal. The minute a hutt was mentioned, Safira rolled her eyes.

“I hate those kriffing slugs.” Having little time to complain further, she reached out for the blaster that Haastal offered without hesitation. Clearing her throat, she aimed it directly at his head. There was a brief moment in which he opened his mouth to protest, but the bolt that embedded into his skull cut the words from his tongue. As he sunk back onto the dust-covered ground, Safira sighed. “Probably should have asked him where to find the hutt, huh?”

 

[Haastal Haran]

TAG | Safira Haran

Haastal waited for Safira to turn towards him before he took the blaster from her hands, sinking it back into his holster with a bit of a sigh. "A Hutt has my helmet." He looked to Safira while she spoke but quickly shrugged at the thought. "I've never met a Hutt that was hard to find." He chuckled before cursing softly. The Hutt crime families may not have extended their domain like they once did, but they were still wrapped in the notoriety of the underworld.

"If we end up killin' a Hutt we could have a lot of heat on us for a while." He paused to consider, leaning back against the wall behind him. His laid his head on the wall while looking up at the cloudy skies above. The sun was starting to set and they hadn't even found out where the Hutt was yet. "Look. Why don't we go back to the ship for the night and gest some sleep? First thing in the morning we can hit the shops and find out where this Hutt is." He suggested. The man pushed himself off the wall, glancing on the empty street in front of them.

"Hell its not like we'd be missin' shit. The people are all tucking their heads because of all the commotion. Tomorrow we'll get back at it. Hopefully my helmet won't be melted down by then." He said.

Haastal sighed before jerking his chin back towards the direction of their ship. "Come on. I'm hungry." He told her, running a hand over the back of his head while they walked down the street.

 

[Safira Haran]

T A G | Haastal Haran

Resting her head on her own holstered blaster, Safira nodded in agreement. “True enough. Never met a hutt that liked a quiet life, I guess. I do know they like to keep their hideouts hidden though.” At his next statement, Safira shot him a knowing look. “Yeah… you make a valid point. But the heat is worth the helmet. Not like we're staying on this moon very much longer. Plus, we can’t afford to buy a replacement, never mind losing the stuff we already have.” A heavy thud echoed as Haastal leaned against one of the closer walls. Safira busied herself wiping the dots of blood from her armour.

When he mentioned going back to the ship, she was all to quick to agree. “Sounds like a plan to me.” After travelling on the ship for weeks, this was as much excitement as Safira had seen in a long time. It would have been a lie to say she wasn’t feeling the ramifications. After taking one last look at the body they were leaving behind, Safira tore herself away from the alley to follow Haastal back to the ship. There, they indulged themselves. In food, and drink, and each other. Everything else they had to think about could wait until tomorrow. It wasn’t too long before they were both sleeping off the aches and pains of the day.

It was difficult to tell when you were on a moon, but the clock by her bedside blurred an aggressive neon green at her face. A little past four in the morning. What the hell was she doing awake? Safira groaned and rolled over, burying her face into the man who slept soundly at her side.

CRASH.

Safira sat bolt upright, throwing the sheets from the bed in the process.

BANG.

Confused, she turned her ear to the door. Damsy didn't sleep much, but she was never normally this loud when Haastal and Safira were sleeping. She made a point of sitting in her room listening to music through headphones. She wouldn't be crashing about like that. It was only when the sound of extremely gently placed footsteps echoed in her hearing aid that Safira finally realised.

“Haas.” She did her best to whisper but her pitch was nothing short of panicked. Another footstep echoed cross the corridor, far closer to their room than the others had been. Whoever it was had a heavy gait, but they were doing their best to keep it quiet and failing at it rather spectacularly. Safira was as deaf as a post without her hearing aid, but with them she could hear a pin drop. It was fortunate she had fallen to sleep with it still last night. Another footstep prompted her to speak again. “HAAS.” Safira whispered as loud as she dared, jabbing her elbow into his chest as she did. “Wake up.”

She lifted herself off the bed an inch or two, glancing to the weapons that lay on the chair across the room. “There’s someone here…”