First Reply The Long Watch [Mandalorian Preferred]

[Perseus]

The line moved slowly. Not disorganized. Just tired.

Workers, refugees, cargo haulers, locals trying to return to whatever passed for normal life after years beneath the Diarchy. Some carried crates or salvaged machinery strapped to old speeders. Others simply carried bags over their shoulders with the look of people uncertain if they were truly coming home or just settling somewhere less dangerous.

Yaga Minor still looked wounded.

Scaffolding wrapped portions of nearby buildings where reconstruction crews worked beneath the sound of distant welding torches. Fresh barricades and portable sensor towers stood where old Diarchy fortifications had once overlooked the district. Mandalorian banners had been raised in places, though not aggressively. Less a declaration of ownership and more a warning to anyone considering taking advantage of a recovering world sitting too close to the edge of Mandalorian space.

The checkpoint itself had been assembled quickly but efficiently. Portable durasteel barriers narrowed civilian traffic into controlled lanes while sensor equipment scanned cargo and identification tags. A pair of Mandalorian soldiers handled most of the processing further down the line, checking manifests and directing transports toward designated districts.

My job was simpler.

Watch.

Intervene if needed.

Most of the time that meant standing still while civilians avoided eye contact and pretended not to notice the armored figure watching over the checkpoint from beside the barricades.

I preferred it that way.

Hands rested near my belt out of habit rather than aggression. One near the sheath knife mounted against my armor. The other hanging loosely near the old leather pouch carrying the whetstone tucked at my side. My posture remained relaxed enough to avoid alarming people, though years of survival made true relaxation difficult.

Even here my attention drifted constantly.

Rooftops. Windows. Movement patterns. Unattended bags.

Who looked nervous. Who looked angry. Who watched the checkpoint too carefully.

The civilians noticed less than soldiers ever did. Most were too busy rebuilding lives interrupted by war to pay attention to the way someone like me scanned every street corner as though expecting violence to emerge from it at any second.

Part of me envied that.

Children ran through the streets nearby despite the half-finished barricades and construction equipment. Merchants argued over prices beside temporary stalls assembled from scrap metal and old tarp coverings. Somewhere farther down the district someone was playing music loud enough to echo faintly between the buildings.

Life continued. I still wasn't sure how people managed that so easily.

A woman approached the checkpoint carrying a sleeping child against her shoulder while balancing identification papers awkwardly in her free hand. Exhaustion lined her face deeper than age did. She looked at me only briefly before lowering her eyes again, likely uncertain whether the armored figure standing watch would speak to her or simply wave her through.

I checked the papers quickly before handing them back.

"District seven's still under reconstruction,"

I said quietly through the helmet vocoder.

"Stay near the southern blocks if you're looking for stable housing."

The woman blinked once, almost surprised by the warning, before nodding gratefully and continuing through the checkpoint without another word. My gaze followed her for a moment longer than necessary. Then instinct dragged my attention back toward the rooftops again. Always the rooftops.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled my attention sideways shortly afterward. Heavier than civilian movement. Measured. Armored.

Another Mandalorian.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Change was one of the only constants in the galaxy, change and war.

The last time Adonis had stepped foot on Yaga Minor, both of those things had been burning the planet itself. He had not been here for the war the Diarchy waged against the Mandalorians, but he had stood here against Harrow and his forces. Back then, the Diarchy and the Mandalorians had fought side by side. Now those ashes had simply been buried beneath newer ones.

From those ashes, Mandalore intended to forge something stronger. Yaga Minor sat too close to close to the edge Mandalorian space to be left alone for long, too valuable and too vulnerable to abandon. Adonis's task was simple enough on paper: keep the peace long enough for the refugees and reconstruction crews to breathe without someone trying to tear the world apart again.

The galaxy produced all kinds of predators. Some conquered through open war while others waited until the fighting stopped so they could prey on whatever remained standing afterward. Word had reached the Empire that someone intended to make a move on Yaga Minor soon. Diarchy loyalists were one possibility, though intelligence remained uncertain. Whoever it was, the goal seemed obvious enough. Sow fear, provoke violence, and make the Mandalorians appear like occupying tyrants instead of protectors.

Civilian safety came first, which meant panic could not be allowed to spread before they understood what they were dealing with. Adonis had already spent some time planetside by now, though nothing serious had happened yet. Truthfully, he had accepted the assignment for his own reasons as much as Mandalore's.

During the assault against the Imperial Coalition, Adonis had taken notice of a young warrior named Perseus . The foundling had been the first person Adonis had ever encountered who existed completely untouched by the Force. That alone had made him impossible to ignore. Adonis had expected others to take a keen interest in the young warrior as well, yet he was assigned guard duty. Curious, considering what Perseus represented.

Since arriving on Yaga Minor, Adonis had used the operation as an excuse to keep an eye on him from a respectful distance. He had not gone out of his way to announce himself, though admittedly that became difficult when one wore bright white beskar marked with the Angelis crest across the chestplate. Stealth had never truly been an option for him, and whatever distance Adonis had tried to maintain disappeared once new intelligence suggested something was coming soon.

They still did not know exactly what form the attack would take, only that whoever planned to strike was likely already on-world. The Empire needed to keep the situation controlled until they understood the threat. Whoever orchestrated this likely wanted the civilians frightened and the Mandalorians blamed for whatever followed, and Adonis had no intention of allowing that to happen.

The Mandalorian approached Perseus, extending an armored arm in the traditional warrior's clasp. "Perseus, correct?" In his armor he stood nearly eye level with the foundling, making the question more courtesy than uncertainty. Perseus was difficult to mistake for anyone else.

"My name is Adonis Angelis IV. I had the honor of fighting alongside you on Socorro's Belt." The forearm clasp tightened briefly before releasing. Adonis studied the younger warrior for a moment beneath the visor of his helmet before a faint laugh escaped through the vocoder. "You fight like a born Mandalorian," he said. "That's what Mandalore once told me after my first campaign with him." There was no arrogance in the statement, only recognition between warriors.

His helmet tilted slightly as he looked Perseus over again. "How long have you served the Empire, vode?" His voice shifted to something a bit less formal, "Because you fight like a born Mandalorian." The warrior recalled the ruthless energy the foundling put into combat.

 

[Perseus]

More civilians filtered through the checkpoint in uneven lines. Families. Laborers. Reconstruction crews carrying what little they still owned after the war. Their eyes moved constantly between the guards, the barricades, the transports waiting farther down the road.

And me. Their attention lingered longer than I liked. Standing well above most humans tended to do that. Even among near-humans, my size drew attention before I ever spoke. Normally that was enough to keep people moving without trouble.

Then the attention shifted. Not fully. Not all at once. But enough that I noticed it immediately.

Eyes that had been lingering on me began drifting past my shoulder instead. Conversations quieted slightly. Some of the civilians straightened without realizing it while others simply watched. That was when I heard the heavier footfalls approaching through the dirt behind the civilian line. Measured. Confident. My helmet turned toward the sound.

The Mandalorian approaching looked like something from the old stories told to children around burn barrels and dim lights. White beskar bright even beneath the overcast skies of Yaga Minor. The crest across his chestplate stood proud and unmistakable, worn without hesitation or doubt. Not decorative. Not boastful.

Certain.

Even the civilians reacted differently to him. Not fearful exactly. More... assured. Like his presence alone settled something restless in the air around the checkpoint. I barely registered his first words. Instead, my attention caught on the way he carried himself. Relaxed. Controlled. Like the armor belonged to him instead of something he had to force himself into. Even standing eye to eye with him, I felt… smaller somehow.

Not physically. Something else.

His confidence came too naturally. His voice rolled easy through the air between us, calm and practiced in a way mine never was. Someone who had done this before. Someone who stood among Mandalorians without looking like he questioned whether he belonged there. Then the words finally settled into place.

"Perseus, correct?"

My answer came quieter than expected.

"Yes."

Not barked like a soldier reporting. Not hardened. Just honest.

Adonis Angelis. I remembered the armor first before I remembered the man. The white beskar moving through the violence on Socorro's Belt. Calm where others became frantic. Deliberate where the battlefield turned savage. I remembered fighting beside him. Though truthfully, most of that battle existed in fragments inside my head now. Blaster fire. Blood. The shield. Rage.

Mostly rage.

His armored forearm clasped mine firmly before releasing. Strong. Steady. Familiar in a way that unsettled me more than it should have. Then he spoke again.

"You fight like a born Mandalorian."

The words hit harder than they had any right to. Not because of pride. Because part of me wanted to believe him. That was the dangerous part.

My head dipped slightly beneath the helmet as he spoke about Mandalore himself saying the same words to him once. The comparison alone felt wrong. He stood there like the image of what a Mandalorian should be. Composed. Respected. Certain of himself without needing violence to prove it.

And me?

I remembered what I looked like in battle. What I sounded like. The things I did once the fighting got close enough.

His helmet tilted slightly while he looked me over again, studying me in a way that made my chest tighten beneath the armor. He knew my name. He had watched me fight. He had seen what happened on Socorro's Belt. Seen me.

I wanted to leave. Not run. Not fight. Just… disappear from the attention entirely. Not here. Not in front of civilians. Not in front of someone like him. Even if his words were meant kindly, they still felt dangerous. Like he was trying to place me among them while I stood there knowing exactly what separated me from everyone else around me.

My voice came rougher this time.

"I'm not."

The answer left before I could stop it. Not defensive. Not angry. Just immediate. The words sat between us while I focused on breathing slowly through the helmet. Deep breaths. Controlled. Trying to keep the noise in my head from rising higher. Because fear was loud. It whispered to leave. To avoid this. To avoid him.

Standing in front of Adonis felt strangely worse than standing in front of enemies baring down on you. Not because he was threatening. Because every movement, every word, every piece of confidence he carried made me aware of how much effort it took me just to stand here pretending I belonged. Eventually I forced myself to look back up at him properly. Trying to straighten my posture slightly. Trying not to look as uncertain as I felt.

"I did what I had to, It was the job."

I answered quietly.

That was safer. Reduce it to function. Purpose. Utility. A soldier fights. A weapon kills. Nothing more complicated than that. But the words still felt hollow even as I said them. Because the truth was uglier. I had fought that hard because I needed the Mandalorians to see value in keeping me around. Even if it was only as another body to throw into a battlefield. Another blunt instrument pointed at the enemy.

And standing in front of Adonis now, I couldn't stop thinking about the Force. About what he might feel standing this close to me. Or rather, what he wouldn't feel. The absence. The emptiness where something should have existed.

A man openly carrying a lightsaber would notice it eventually. Someone that connected to the Force had to. I didn't know how much he understood already, only that eventually he would see through me completely.

And despite myself…

Part of me feared what he would think when he did.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Attention came to Adonis naturally, he was used to people looking at him and sometimes through him. Perseus was different, even through the helmet Adonis could feel the foundling's eyes studying him. Not as a warrior, but as a stray animal assessing whether the stranger in front of them was safe or not. It was a natural sense of distrust that would save Perseus's life someday, or get him killed, depending.

The speed in which the young warrior dismissed himself before Adonis showed the warrior these were words he repeated to himself over and over. There was something primal about the rage that exuded from Perseus. Even without the Force, Adonis was able to pick up on it. Bubbling just under the surface, masked by an air of desperation like a geyser. Adonis understood the value of someone capable of surviving with that kind of fire buried beneath the surface.

The Mandalorian scanned the crowd again, taking in any vantage points that the would be attackers could exploit, nothing so far. He turned back toward Perseus again, "Neither was I." His tone carried with it no shame, nor did it have any pride, Adonis had long since given up the man he was before the Creed.

"You said it yourself, vod, you did what you had to do." The warrior nodded toward the other Mandalorian, emphasizing his point. "That's what Mandalorians do, we protect our people and we follow the Creed. It doesn't matter what's in your blood or what name you carry." Adonis's tone was stronger now, he believed it more important than anything to have pride in yourself, otherwise you allow others to see your weaknesses. "So say it with your chest. You are Mandalorian." A crushgaunt settled against the foundling's shoulder in a reassuring squeeze.

He took his arm back and stood straight, his eyes floating back toward the lines of people, none of his men had discovered anything yet, and it upset Adonis that he was basically in the dark. He wanted to ask Perseus to help him, but he needed to make sure the young man was willing. "If it helps, I know what you are." Once again, his tone carried no judgment, he was simply stating a fact. "The Force slips around you, Jedi and Sith train their whole lives to fight with instincts most others don't have a defense against," He paused for a moment, "and you strip that advantage from them." There was much more to being untouched by the Force than that, Adonis was sure, but as a Mandalorian that was about all they were taught.

"You are not less, Perseus." Adonis nodded his head toward the young warrior, punctuating his point, "If anything, you are more- more dangerous, more unpredictable, and far more than you let the galaxy see." The Mandalorian had never met another who was absent from the Force all together, and he was sure not many others had either. "That's part of the reason I approached you, foundling."

The Mandalorian warrior motioned for Perseus to follow him around toward the back of the checkpoint, another warrior taking his place seamlessly. When they got there, Adonis opened a private com channel for them and confided in the other warrior. "I have received intelligence that a group is trying to disrupt the reconstruction efforts here on Yaga Minor." Adonis looked back toward the crowd that could see them behind the building, seeing if anyone was paying attention to them before continuing, "We don't know who they are, but we believe they are already planet side. They are likely posing as refugees."

Any time wasted with the story was time their targets had to slip into the crowds. "I need someone who is quick, efficient, and hard to track." He shrugged under his heavy beskar, "I thought of you."

​

 

[Perseus]

The words settled heavily in my chest.

You are Mandalorian.

They should have felt triumphant. Like some final acceptance into something larger than myself. Yet instead, they sat wrong beneath my ribs. Too heavy. Too unfamiliar. Like armor that had not quite fitted properly yet.

My helmet tilted slightly downward as Adonis spoke. The crowd still moved behind him. Civilians filtering through the checkpoint unaware of the weight settling between us. I watched them instead of him for a moment. Easier than holding the gaze of someone who looked at me like he already understood something I didn't.

Then came the words that made my stomach tighten.

I know what you are.

Every muscle in my body locked instinctively. Not outwardly. Not enough for most people to notice. But inside, the reaction was immediate.

The Force slips around you.

The words echoed louder than they should have. The way he said it carried no fear. No caution. No disgust. Just certainty. Matter-of-fact understanding spoken as casually as discussing weather patterns or battlefield terrain. That unsettled me more than hatred would have. Then came the rest.

You strip that advantage from them.

Dangerous. The word wasn't spoken directly, but it settled there anyway beneath everything else he said. More dangerous. More unpredictable. The thought lingered harder than it should have. Part of me hated that. Another part clung to it immediately. Because no one had ever spoken about what I was like that before. Not cursed. Not wrong. Not broken. Dangerous. Useful. The realization made guilt twist sharply in my stomach. I should have hated hearing it framed that way. Instead, something uglier almost felt pride.

I buried that feeling immediately. My jaw tightened beneath the helmet hard enough to ache. Then he said it.

That's part of the reason I approached you.

The spiraling thoughts slammed together all at once. There it was. The reason. The purpose. The explanation my mind had been clawing for since he first walked up to me. Not because I belonged. Not because I was one of them. Because I was useful. Because I could be pointed at something. Strangely, the realization steadied me more than his reassurance had. Being needed made more sense than being accepted.

The tension in my shoulders loosened slightly beneath the armor before I caught it happening. My body reacting before my thoughts did. The mission. The task. The danger. Those things I understood. Those things were solid beneath my feet in ways belonging never was. Yet even then, doubt lingered like a knife beneath the ribs. Someone who survived long enough learned how people worked. What they wanted. How they used things. Useful weapons were kept close until they stopped being useful.

My thoughts drifted toward him again despite myself. Toward the confidence in his posture. The certainty in his voice. The way he never once hesitated around me after learning what I was. No fear. No uncertainty. That should have reassured me. Instead, it made me wary. Was this trust? Or was he simply looking at a weapon and deciding where best to aim it? I couldn't tell. And somehow that uncertainty frightened me more than open suspicion would have.

Then the mission came. Refugees. Infiltrators. Threats already planetside. The moment he started explaining it, the storm inside my head finally began settling into something I could survive. My attention narrowed automatically. Civilian flow patterns. Chokepoints. Blind angles around the checkpoint. Places someone could disappear if they knew what they were doing.

My breathing finally evened out.

The spiraling thoughts dulled beneath the shape of a clear objective. Quick. Efficient. Hard to track. He thought of me. The realization landed heavier than expected.

If I failed now, it proved I never belonged.

The thought came instantly and settled deep. Not emotional. Certain. I hated how quickly my mind accepted it. My posture straightened unconsciously beneath the armor as the mission settled into place. The exhaustion and confusion from moments earlier buried beneath instinct and purpose before they could fully drag me under. Tasks were safer than thoughts. Danger was easier than uncertainty. Structure was easier. Safer. The words Adonis had spoken still lingered somewhere in the back of my mind, pressing against thoughts I wasn't prepared to untangle yet. So instead, I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I turned it into duty. My posture stiffened fully now. Shoulders squared. Chin raised slightly beneath the helmet. Every movement measured and controlled again. Rebuilding walls out of discipline before the confusion underneath could spread any further. My voice sounded flatter when I finally spoke. Controlled. Professional. Easier to manage than the thoughts still clawing around inside my head.

"Understood, sir."

The title left my mouth automatically. A line drawn between us. Commander and soldier. Simpler that way. Safer that way. Adonis motioned for me to follow, and I moved immediately without hesitation. Boots crunching softly against the dirt as I fell into step behind him. Not because I trusted him completely.

Not yet.

But because for the first time since he approached me, I finally understood where I was supposed to stand.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Under his helmet, a look of bemusement came across Adonis's face. He hadn't expected Perseus to be so timid for the exploits he had seen before. The confidence was there somewhere beneath the hesitation and discipline. It would simply take time to drag it into the open. When the knight was Perseus's age he was still living under the thumb of his father, wishing to appease him and carry on the Angelis name. Years later he was a staple in the Mandalorian Empire. The same Empire that killed Adonis's father for provoking them repeatedly. Change was gradual, and Adonis would ensure the young warrior had a good guiding hand.

Adonis almost acknowledged the sir comment and let him know it was alright to address him by his name, but he paused after reflection. Perseus was young and craved the structure that the military offered. It was an anchor for him, giving him something to hold onto in the chaos that surrounded not only Yaga Minor, but the galaxy at large. The warrior decided not to correct him. Better not to force familiarity onto someone who had spent most of his life denied it.

A white beskar clad hand motioned for Perseus to follow, "They're likely going to try to make us look like the aggressors." Adonis said as they continued forward, he wanted to reiterate that discretion was paramount. When they moved forward they came back around toward the line of refugees funneling past the checkpoint. Besides the Mandalorian warriors and a few flags, it was not overt that the Empire was behind the reconstruction efforts. Mand'alor himself had made a point to let those rebuilding keep their identity. The old Crusaders would have rebuilt the district in their own image. Mand'alor had chosen a different approach.

The crowd was made up of the usual types, everyone from Twi'lek mothers to Rodian businessmen all reduced to the same rations and robes as they rebuilt what Mandalore had reminded them could still be taken. That same uniform misery, however, made it easier for interlopers to disappear into the crowd. It was hard to tell who was who since they were all in the same situation. Adonis needed new eyes, a fresh take from someone who was as much a predator as he. "We aren't looking for the types of enemies we are used to flushing out, Perseus." He paused as his gaze went back to the foundling, "They are going to be subtle, they're going to be a different kind of nervous." His tone sharpened now, "I elicit a kind of fear in these people that remind them of the Mandalorians who destroyed this land. You can remind them of the future we want to build for them."

A fist pounded against his chest as he finished, "You're strong, you've proven that, now show me how keen you are." That raised fist now opened to a palm as he extended it toward the line of people in front of them. The open palm gestured toward the moving crowd between the barricades and checkpoint scanners. Adonis said nothing further, allowing the foundling space to hunt in his own way. The other Mandalorians in the area were alerted to the presence of the interlopers, but ordered to not engage first.

​

 

[Perseus]

My attention moved constantly through the crowd as people filtered through the checkpoint lines. Faces blurred together after long enough. Fear became familiar. Exhaustion became normal. People displaced by war carried themselves differently than soldiers did, but suffering always left marks if someone knew where to look. Shoulders sat too high. Hands stayed too close to belongings. Eyes drifted toward exits without realizing they were doing it. I kept searching through it the way Adonis instructed. Looking for something wrong hidden inside all the normal kinds of broken.

Someone too careful. Someone watching too much. Someone trying too hard to disappear.

My attention drifted across an older man clutching ration supplies too tightly before moving on. A woman guiding children through scanners. A Rodian keeping his head down. Another person moving too quickly before correcting themselves. My eyes moved constantly. Processing. Discarding. Reassessing. The structure helped. The task helped. It kept everything else quieter.

A Duros further down adjusted a satchel twice. Wrong kind of nervous. A woman near one of the barriers shifted weight awkwardly. Injury. Not threat. A human male watched the scanners too carefully before lowering his head again. Fear sat everywhere. Hunger sat in shoulders. Loss sat in posture. War hollowed people out differently, but it always left evidence behind. I needed something else. Someone carrying control too tightly.

Then something touched my hand. Small enough that it never triggered alarm. Light enough that instinct never marked it as danger. Enough to pull my attention away from the work. My helmet lowered automatically.

A child.

Small enough I did not know how long they had been standing there. Tiny hands held something upward toward me. Gray fabric. Uneven stitching. One wing sat lower than the other. A bright blue button eye sat too high while another darker one pulled lower. Whatever it was supposed to be had been assembled by someone with more effort than skill.

"It protected me."

Their voice carried certainty so naturally it confused me more than the object itself. The toy lifted slightly. Offered. Given. My thoughts stalled. Not because I understood, because I didn't.

"It's okay."

Small fingers pushed the soft thing closer toward armor and scarred hands built for harder things.

"He protects people."

My hand moved before my thoughts did. The fabric compressed beneath armored fingers. The soft, warm, and worn texture unsettled me immediately. Not because it felt strange. Because it didn't. Something old shifted somewhere beneath the surface hard enough that I nearly recoiled from it. Not memory exactly. Worse. The shape of one. Smaller hands. Softer things. Pieces of something buried deeply enough that I had stopped looking for them years ago. My stomach tightened immediately as instinct forced the feeling back down before I could reach it fully.

No. Not now.

My eyes lowered toward the stuffed bird again. Crooked stitching. Uneven fabric. Loose thread hanging from places where tiny hands had struggled to force needle through cloth. Objectively worthless. Fragile. Improperly made. The kind of thing survival taught people not to become attached to because fragile things disappeared. Fragile things broke. Fragile things died. The galaxy carved those lessons deeply enough that eventually they stopped feeling cruel and simply became truth.

Yet here it sat inside scarred hands built for knives, armor, and violence. Hands that had broken harder things than this without effort. A child had handed me something soft. Something vulnerable. Not carefully. Not hesitantly. Freely. Like it had never occurred to them that I might damage it. Like the armor, the size, the violence hidden beneath beskar meant nothing at all.

Trust like that felt dangerous. Wrong. Like a mistake waiting to happen. My fingers adjusted unconsciously around the stuffed bird carefully enough that realization struck harder than it should have. I was holding it differently. Not like equipment. Not like something replaceable. Protective.

The child was already gone. Back toward movement. Back toward family. Back toward life continuing forward without realizing something had been left behind with me. No request. No expectation. No transaction. No proving myself worthy enough to receive it. Just certainty offered freely by someone who knew nothing about me beyond what stood in front of them.

A Mandalorian. A stranger. Someone they believed could carry something fragile without breaking it. Confusion settled heavier than armor across my shoulders because somewhere beneath years of survival and violence and certainty sat something I did not know how to face.

I didn't understand why this hurt. I thought that frightened me more than anything else.

My eyes finally pulled away from it. Deliberately. Forcefully. The checkpoint still moved. Refugees filtered through scanners. Workers carried supplies between reconstruction zones. Life continued whether confusion sat in my chest or not. The task remained where I left it.

Focus.

My attention returned toward the crowd. Faces. Hands. Movement. Someone near the scanners shifted twice. Wrong. Worker. An older woman lingered near the barricade. Fear. Not threat. A Rodian moved unevenly. Exhaustion. My eyes kept working. My thoughts didn't. They kept pulling backward. Back toward uneven stitching. Loose thread. The bright blue button eye sitting too high. The small voice saying it protected people. I hated that it kept returning. Hated that my thoughts refused to leave it behind where it belonged. It was fabric. Stuffing. Worthless. Fragile.

My fingers adjusted around it again. Carefully. The realization struck immediately. I still hadn't put it away. I should have. Utility pouch. Storage. Anywhere. Instead it remained in my hand while I worked. Like some part of me refused to let go before I understood why. That realization unsettled me more than I wanted to admit because understanding things mattered. Structure mattered. Purpose mattered. This sat wrong.

The toy should not have occupied space inside my thoughts while searching for people who could get others killed. It should not matter. The fact that it did unsettled me more than I could put into words.

My eyes moved back across the crowd. Searching. Watching. Hunting. Yet every few moments my thumb shifted unconsciously across worn fabric. Like confirming it remained there. Like losing it somehow felt dangerous. I hated that thought immediately.

Which somehow only made it worse.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The warrior's attention remained fixed on the larger operation. Ultimately, he was responsible for making sure whoever was operating on Yaga Minor never got the chance to act. Even with the other Mandalorians searching the district, the final responsibility for the recovery effort still rested on Adonis's shoulders. Mand'alor had been very specific with how he wanted the mission handled.

Adonis's HUD continued marking patrol positions and updating constantly with new information as the refugee lines proceeded in uneven waves through the checkpoints. With his attention drawn toward the larger picture, he missed the moment between Perseus and the young child entirely. The knight was preoccupied with the updates coming in from the others. It appeared a pair of Mandalorians had detained someone acting erratically near the outer barricades, trying to provoke the warriors into striking him as he resisted. Luckily the Mandalorians had already been briefed on the possibility of agitators attempting to manufacture incidents, and the man had failed to get the reaction he wanted.

By the time Adonis found Perseus again, the foundling had moved much farther down the line. At a distance, Adonis assumed the object in his grasp was confiscated contraband and thought little of it. "We have a potential upstart in custody." His voice traveled over the comms on a private channel as Adonis closed the gap between them. "I want to see what you think of them." The large Mandalorian finally noticed the stuffed animal tucked securely in Perseus's grasp.

"They try to smuggle drugs in anything these days." His tone remained flat as he spoke. They had found narcotics hidden in everything from stuffed toys to medical shipments. "They've started using children more recently." A quiet sigh escaped through the vocoder. The gangs had begun dragging younglings into operations long before they were old enough to understand what was happening around them. "You can turn it into one of the sergeants when we arrive."

​

 

[Perseus]

The private channel crackled alive as Adonis closed distance beside me. My attention pulled away from the movement flowing through the checkpoint lines long enough to process the update. Potential agitator detained. Someone trying to provoke violence where violence did not belong. Someone trying to manufacture a story before anything had even happened. The mission settled easily back into place inside my head. Structure. Purpose. Work. Things that made sense.

"Yes, sir."

The answer came automatically. Easy. Familiar. Safe.

People continued filtering steadily through scanners and barricades while my attention moved back toward the work in front of me. Eyes. Hands. Movement. Looking for nervousness that sat differently than fear. Fear existed everywhere here. Hunger lived in shoulders. Exhaustion dragged feet. Loss sat behind people's eyes long enough that eventually it became difficult to separate one kind of broken from another.

The structure helped. The task helped. Then Adonis noticed what sat in my hand. The idea of contraband in the toy. Even with my hand holding it, I knew there was none there, but the process still had to be done. I need to turn it in.

My fingers tightened around the stuffed bird immediately. Not enough to draw attention. Enough.

My eyes lowered toward it briefly. Crooked stitching. Uneven fabric. One wing lower than the other. The bright blue button eye sat slightly too high where tiny hands had sewn it into place without caring whether it matched properly. Something about the entire thing sat wrong with me immediately. Not Adonis and the order given. It was the thought itself, because the child handed it to me.

Because—

they chose me.

The realization hit hard enough that instinct buried it before I could let it settle fully. No. I needed to focus on the mission. On my work that needed to be done. Follow the process.

My attention lifted immediately back toward movement through the checkpoint lines. A woman guiding children forward through scanners. Someone carrying supplies unevenly. An older man lingering near one of the barricades before continuing again. She looked tired, and downtrodden. Not posing any threat. Eyes moving on to scan those around her.

But my thoughts kept circling back anyway.

Because—

they chose me to keep it safe.

That thought landed worse. It was the soft quiet thought. Small and should be quieter. Yet it felt more dangerous. My jaw tightened beneath the helmet. Thoughts breaking as I told myself No. I needed to focus. Adonis outranked me. Adonis knew more of this process. He had done this far longer than I had. This structure existed for a reason. There were valid reasons for the order to be given yet...

The child trusted—

No. Look at the people. Watch their movement. Get back to the work. The task at hand. An older refugee stumbled before catching themselves. Exhaustion. Not a threat. A Rodian near one of the scanners kept watching patrol routes. Simply waiting as their family was with them. No signs of influence. Move on.

My fingers adjusted unconsciously around worn fabric again and the realization unsettled me immediately. I was holding it carefully. Too carefully. More carefully than something like this should matter. More carefully than I held most things at all. Because some part of me already understood what the rest of me refused to look at directly. The child had not handed it to security. Not authority. Not the strongest warrior nearby.

Me.

All of the heavy armor. My size and stature, the signs of violence upon the marked beskar. Everything that should have made someone hesitate, and question speaking to in their situation. Yet somehow none of it mattered.

My thumb pressed briefly across uneven stitching before I forced my attention back toward movement harder than before. People. Hands. Eyes. Patterns. Someone moving too quickly before correcting themselves. Another watching checkpoints too carefully.

The private channel remained quiet long enough that I finally spoke.

"Sir."

I kept it professional. Controlled, and armored as if my words were carefully being chosen for a reason.

"If narcotics were hidden inside... Would handling compromise evidence?"

My hand adjusted around the stuffed Falcon again. Small. Subtle. As if the soft squeeze and thumb rubbing it would comfort me like it would the child. Speaking my next words softly.

"If recovered from civilians... would original possession require maintaining chain of custody until transfer?"

The questions came naturally enough that I almost convinced myself that was all they were. Procedure. Structure. Responsibility. Not arguing I wouldn't do that. I was finding and learning the process. Remembering the rules from day one of being installed as guard duty. Finding the rule that this mattered to. Finding the place where responsibility and orders fit together cleanly enough that nothing important had to disappear.

Because soldiers followed procedure. Procedure kept people alive.

My attention remained on the checkpoint while people continued filtering steadily through security. Eyes moved. Patterns shifted. Work continued. Yet somehow my hand never loosened. The realization settled slowly enough that I almost missed it entirely.

I did not want to give it away.

And somehow that frightened me more than I wanted to admit.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Adonis found his attention divided between the crowd and the foundling beside him, wanting to get a better understanding of Perseus's process as he hunted. It was obvious the younger Mandalorian understood people in ways Adonis no longer did. Perseus saw nervousness and exhaustion where Adonis saw suspicion and intent. The ability to trust strangers had rotted out of Adonis years ago. Even so, he hung back slightly, not wanting to make the foundling nervous while he worked.

The command to turn the contraband in sat strangely in the air between them, creating a tension Adonis did not fully understand at first. Initially he assumed Perseus was simply being cautious with potential evidence, but then the younger warrior's body betrayed him. To anyone else it might have looked like nothing more than a subtle tightening of his grip around the stuffed falcon. Adonis caught the meaning behind it immediately. Perseus had formed some sort of connection to whoever handed it to him.

He watched the silence stretch longer than it should have, his attention now almost entirely on Perseus and the stuffed bird tucked carefully in his grasp. Duty and conscience pulled against each other inside the older Mandalorian. The order itself existed for a reason. Anything taken from or passed between refugees and soldiers was supposed to be documented and turned in. It prevented corruption, intimidation, and warriors shaking down civilians beneath the guise of security work. But Adonis could already tell that was not what this was.

This was a young man trying to hold onto something fragile before the galaxy convinced him he no longer deserved to. The thought dragged old memories back to the surface before Adonis could stop them. His father's voice echoed clearly despite the years between then and now.

"A warrior who grows attached to fragile things does not die protecting them, Adonis. He dies failing to."

The words had been spoken while a fire burned in the courtyard of the Angelis estate. Adonis could still remember the heat against his face as his father forced him to throw sketchbook after sketchbook into the flames and watch as his passions turned to embers, and then, to ash.

By the time Perseus finally answered him, it felt like Adonis had lived through years of memory in the silence between sentences. The younger Mandalorian's questions came carefully wrapped in professionalism and procedure, but Adonis understood what sat beneath them. Perseus was not arguing. He was searching for permission without having to ask for it directly. Part of Adonis understood his duty immediately. The rest of him remembered the fire.

"The chain of custody only applies to confiscated property and monetary gifts." His tone remained deep and steady through the vocoder. "If there is no contraband inside, there is no reason it cannot stay with you." Adonis kept his voice neutral on purpose. He had no intention of forcing Perseus to openly admit why the object mattered to him. Fear of rejection was another killer of innocence.

"Just don't let it interfere with the mission. Not everyone here is going to offer trust so freely." His attention shifted back toward the moving crowds as his posture straightened again beneath the white beskar. "We are looking for dangerous people. The kind willing to hurt civilians if it means making the Empire look like monsters."

The moment passed quickly after that as the mission forced itself back to the front of Adonis's thoughts. His HUD flashed with the dossier the other Mandalorians had assembled on the detained suspect. Jireh Yero, Duros businessman. Known ties to Diarchy loyalists. Previous altercations with Mandalorian personnel inside the refugee districts, usually involving attempts to provoke confrontation publicly before security stepped in. According to transport records he should have already been back on Duros with the rest of his surviving family weeks ago.

Everything pointed toward him being involved, and Adonis was positive he wasn't working alone.

​

 

[Perseus]

The answer settled strangely in my chest.

If there is no contraband inside, there is no reason it cannot stay with you.

Relief came first. Sharp enough that I hated it immediately. My hand tightened once around the stuffed bird before I forced the reaction back down where it belonged. Adonis moved on quickly after that, attention already returning toward the larger operation and the information appearing across his HUD. Mine should have followed just as easily.

Instead my thumb brushed once across uneven stitching before I caught myself doing it. Focus. Mission. Work.

The toy disappeared quickly into one of the reinforced utility pouches along my belt. Secure. Protected. Folding the pouch cover over it as it were more than just some toy. Trying to break my sightline to the... stuffed Falcon. What he meant to the child. That the Falcon was a protector. And that thought stayed with me. Maybe the placement would be hidden enough that I no longer had to look at it, to react to it. That should have settled the issue.

It didn't.

My attention returned toward the crowd harder than before, forcing structure back into place piece by piece. People continued moving through scanners in uneven waves while patrols shifted between barricades. Fear still existed everywhere. Exhaustion too. But now something else sat differently inside the crowd. Eyes looking between the various Mandalorians about them. Some providing aid to pick up materials, others checking for contraband the closer they got to the line. My eyes instead scanned beyond them. Looking to those who were a little further from the checkpoint.

Movement. The wrong kind of movement.

A Duros male near the outer edge of the checkpoint reacted half a second too late when Adonis mentioned the detained suspect. Most people ignored names they did not recognize. This one stiffened. Tiny reaction. Easy to miss. Then his eyes shifted immediately toward the outer barricades. The hurried look around to see if anyone watched him. Clearly thinking and planning. Exit routes, and chance of getting away.

My attention locked onto him instantly.

There.

The Duros turned. At first he tried to leave naturally. Controlled steps and gently pushing past others. Head lowered. Blending back into the movement of refugees and workers. Then his pace quickened with each step. One glance backward caught sight of me already watching him. Panic hit immediately after that.

He shoved sideways into the crowd and broke into a sprint.

My body moved before thought fully formed, but the first thing that struck me was not the chase itself.

Civilians.

The Duros slammed through people without hesitation. A woman nearly hit the ground trying to pull her child out of his path while others stumbled backward in confusion as he forced his way through them. Fear spread instantly through the line. Trying to figure out why someone was running, why someone pushed. It struck me hard. No. Not here. Not through them.

My pace shifted immediately. Faster, but controlled. I cut around the edge of the crowd instead of driving through it directly, forcing angle instead of speed while my eyes tracked his movement through the shifting bodies ahead. The instinct to simply close the distance burned hard beneath my ribs, but every time he shoved someone aside the thought returned sharper.

Careful. Protect them first.

Boots hammering into the dirt with thuds of my speed picking up, but not outright sprinting. Just keeping up with him. His hands pushing over some belongings as if trying to create obsticals should someone be directly behind him. Which only slowed himself down. Instead, The Duros looked back again and saw I was still gaining.

Mistake.

He veered hard between stacked supply crates near the outer barricades, trying to force tighter terrain between us before disappearing into one of the side access routes, leading deeper into the refugee district. The moment he left the civilians behind, my pace changed immediately. No more restraint. Lungs burning and my body tightenting as it prepared for the sprint. A burst of speed with the shift in gears. The distance closing even faster.

My boots struck the side of the nearest crate hard enough to launch me upward. Momentum carried me across the stacked containers in a single motion while the world narrowed beneath me into movement, distance, and timing. The Duros glanced backward one final time just as my shadow crossed over his fearful face.

Then I crashed down onto him.

The impact drove both of us violently into the ground. Rolling both of us through the dirt from the collision. The air exploded from his lungs hard enough that his scream turned into a choking gasp instead. Instinct took over of my grappling training. Already grabbing out for his arms. Fingers gripping his forearm and twisting immediately behind his back. Wrenching his hand to be pressed between his shoulder blades. He struggled instantly. Trying to get out from underneath me, Yet my knee came fast to slam into his side. The other plating itself into the lower back. Holding his weight down to the ground. My other hand slamming into the back of his head to hold his face into the dirt. Hearing whatever was left in his lungs come out muffled.

"Stop moving."

The command came low and sharp through the helmet. Professional. Controlled. Not rage. Not violence. Just certainty.

The Duros twisted again anyway, panic ruining what little discipline he had left. My crushgaunt tightened around his wrist until pain finally forced him still. Breathing hard beneath the helmet, I glanced briefly back toward the crowd beginning to gather nervously near the barricades. Their eyes as they just saw a monster of a man leap a distance to take down a would be threat.

Their eyes. In that moment I could see and feel what they were seeing. Scared. It ripped my mind as they saw me take him down. Were they scared of me? Watching. Wondering what I was doing next. However, the mission came first. Head turning back to the Duros. Still shifting a little bit. Trying to say something, but I didn't register it. The thought settled differently than it once would have.

Careful.

My hand removed from his head to key the communicator on the helmet. Broadcasting to everyone instead of the private channel between myself and Adonis.

"Runner detained, likely connected."

I spoke evenly, forcing my breathing steadier. To come down from the heavy breathing. Yet my thoughts of the civilians crept through again. Were they alright? Did he hurt anyone? That would have to be answered later. Instead I brought my hand to my belt to produce cuffs. Slapping them onto his wrist and moving to detain him.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The moment Perseus broke into pursuit, Adonis knew the situation had changed. He would control what he could, but for the rest he would have to trust in the foundling to keep control.

The Duros shoved through the refugee line in a panic, knocking a crate from a labor droid's cart as civilians scattered out of his path. Fear traveled faster than any runner ever could. A mother pulled her child against her chest while workers stumbled backward into the barricades as shouting erupted somewhere further down the checkpoint lane. Though, through it all, Adonis's visor tracked Perseus weaving dexterously through the chaos behind the suspect.

The younger Mandalorian was not charging blindly through civilians to close the distance faster. He adjusted his angles constantly, rerouting around refugees instead of driving straight through them. He vaulted barriers rather than knocking workers aside, and even from a distance Adonis could see him deliberately restraining his own speed whenever civilians risked getting caught in the chase. Good. The foundling understood the assignment better than most veterans would have.

Then Adonis's instincts flared like a torch in the night. It was too sudden, too public. If the agitators were planning to make a move against the Mandalorians, this was exactly the kind of moment they would use to escalate things further. A sharp whistle cut through the district from beneath Adonis's helmet before his comms activated a half second later. "Close ranks and lock the district down. Eyes on the rooftops and outer lanes."

The response was immediate, beskar emerged from everywhere at once. Warriors stepped from alley mouths and construction scaffolding overlooking the refugee lanes while a pair of Mandalorians rose from concealed positions atop a cargo platform. Another emerged from beside a portable checkpoint scanner civilians had likely walked past for hours without realizing a Mandalorian had been stationed there the entire time. Along the rooftops, helmet visors glinted beneath the overcast sky as riflemen shifted into overwatch positions. None of them raised weapons toward civilians and none of them shouted, they simply became visible.

The effect on the district was immediate regardless. Conversations died mid sentence as civilians slowed instinctively, the reality settling over them that Mandalorians had been surrounding the checkpoint the entire time. Fear and uncertainty moved through the crowd in waves while the warriors calmly repositioned themselves to contain the situation without escalating it. Adonis cut through the growing tension like a basilisk burning through the sky, one hand raised slightly as he pushed through the crowd toward the chase unfolding ahead of him.

"Keep moving," his vocoder ordered calmly as he passed a group of startled refugees near the barricades. "No one here is in danger." Another whistle sounded from somewhere above as one of the rooftop Mandalorians signaled all clear on the northern lane. This was good, it meant no secondary movement yet.

Then Perseus struck the Duros. Adonis watched the young warrior launch himself from the stacked cargo crates like a missile, intercepting the fleeing Duros before he could disappear deeper into the district. The impact drove both bodies into the duracrete hard enough to echo between the buildings nearby. Civilians recoiled immediately, some shouting in alarm as the suspect cried out beneath the armored Mandalorian restraining him.

Adonis's eyes narrowed behind the visor. Controlled takedown, minimal collateral. It was efficient, and the foundling had done well. The older warrior immediately shifted focus back toward the crowd itself. Panic spread quickly in recovering districts like this, especially among displaced civilians already uncertain how they felt about Mandalorian occupation. A frightened crowd could become dangerous long before anyone ever threw a punch. "Medical teams forward," Adonis ordered over comms as he stepped through the checkpoint lane. "No weapons raised unless ordered. Maintain civilian flow."

A Rodian laborer had stumbled near one of the barricades during the chase. Adonis grabbed the man by the shoulder and steadied him before continuing forward without another word. Nearby, another Mandalorian helped an older refugee woman back onto an overturned crate while workers resumed moving cargo through the lane under warrior supervision.

Control seemed to be returning slowly, and without any incidents. Then someone shouted.

"You broke his arm!" The voice came from somewhere within the refugee line itself, loud enough to cut through the air of hope immediately. Adonis felt the mood of the crowd shift all at once as civilians turned back toward Perseus and the restrained Duros. The suspect struggled beneath Perseus while cursing through clenched teeth. Even from a distance Adonis could tell something was wrong with one of the man's arms from the way it sat twisted behind his back.

It was not fatal, and it was not excessive force for what had happened. However, visually? It was very bad. It was exactly the kind of image agitators wanted spreading through the district. Before Adonis was able to think of what to do, another voice rose from deeper in the crowd.

"This is what they do!"

"They said the war was over!"

"He wasn't even armed!"

There it was, what they had been waiting for. It wasn't terrorism, not even sabotage- it was a narrative. The crowd had seen what had happened, and they weren't buying it completely, but the hecklers continued, shouting anti-Mandalorian propaganda, further heightening the tension in the air.

Adonis finally reached Perseus's position as the crowd continued murmuring behind them. His iron gaze swept over the suspect quickly before settling briefly on the foundling beside him. He was curious as to where the stuffed falcon had gone. He wondered if it made it through the chase unscathed, or at least not any more damaged than it had been before.

"You did well," Adonis said calmly over the private channel, ignoring the growing noise around them. "You kept civilians clear and maintained control during the takedown." The praise was straightforward and professional, delivered more like battlefield assessment than encouragement. "Good work, vod."

Then his attention was dragged back toward the crowd again. One man near the edge of the barricades had begun speaking louder than the others now, trying to rile nearby refugees into anger while gesturing dramatically toward the injured Duros. Once again, it was too deliberate and too practiced. The warrior immediately clocked him for what he was- another agitator.

The knight stepped forward before the crowd could feed off the tension any further. "The suspect attempted to flee security screening and injured himself resisting detainment," Adonis announced firmly, his voice carrying clearly through the district without needing to shout. "No civilians were harmed during pursuit, and medical personnel are already en route." He allowed the silence to settle for a moment before continuing. "This district remains under Mandalorian protection. Keep moving."

There was no anger in his tone, nor were there threats. There was no need to dominate through fear when you could lead through certainty. He could do this because Adonis understood something the agitators clearly did not.

Strength was not proven through violence.

It was proven through control.

​

 

[Perseus]

The impact still lingered through my arms when the first Mandalorian reached us. The Duros struggled beneath my grip, but the fight had already left him. The second warrior was pulling restraints free before the first had even finished checking him over, both of them moving with the kind of practiced efficiency that came from years of doing the same job. Everything happened quickly after that. Questions were asked. Answers were given. Positions shifted. Hands changed places.

"Prisoner secure?"

"Secure."

The answer left automatically.

"Take the arm."

I adjusted my grip.

"On three."

The suspect tensed.

"One."

The restraints tightened.

"Two."

The second arm was secured.

"Three."

We lifted together.

The movement felt natural despite never having worked beside either of them before. The prisoner immediately started talking once his feet touched the ground. Complaints. Accusations. Excuses. It all blurred together into noise. One of the Mandalorians searched him while the other maintained control. A comm channel opened. Status updates were exchanged. The operation continued moving forward exactly as it was supposed to.

"We've got him."

I released my hold.

For some reason those words stayed with me longer than they should have. Not because I doubted them. The prisoner was restrained. The situation was under control. There was nothing left for me to do. The pursuit was over and responsibility had moved on to someone else. The entire sequence had followed procedure from beginning to end, yet I found myself standing there after the suspect was taken away as though I had somehow missed a step.

The checkpoint continued operating around me without hesitation. Refugees still moved through scanners. Patrols continued their routes. Reports moved across comm channels. Everything carried on as though nothing unusual had happened at all. I should have moved on with it. Instead my attention drifted toward the crowd, and once it did, I found myself unable to pull it away.

People were watching, yet not everyone.

Enough.

The longer I stood there, the more I became aware of it. Some looked away when my visor settled in their direction. Others didn't. Parents stood closer to their children than before. Conversations happened in quieter voices. There was a tension spread through the checkpoint that hadn't been there earlier, and although I could feel it immediately, I couldn't understand where it was coming from. The suspect had run. I had caught him. Nobody had been hurt. The mission continued. Adonis approved of the arrest. The other Mandalorians hadn't questioned it. Every piece of the situation fit together exactly the way it should have.

So why did this feel wrong?

The question settled into my thoughts and refused to leave. I kept searching for an answer every time my eyes moved across the crowd. An older woman pulled a child slightly closer when she noticed me looking. A laborer stepped aside to make room long before I came anywhere near him. A few people watched openly while others avoided looking at me altogether. None of the reactions were dramatic. None of them should have mattered.

For some reason they did.

The feeling sitting in my chest grew heavier the longer I stood there. It wasn't anger. It wasn't guilt. It wasn't even embarrassment exactly. Whatever it was sat somewhere in between all of those things, heavy enough to notice but impossible to name. I kept replaying the pursuit in my head looking for the mistake. The suspect running. The crowd moving. The chase. The tackle. The arrest. The sequence repeated itself over and over while I searched for something that explained what I was seeing now.

I never found it.

That was the part that bothered me.

Usually there was an answer. Pain had answers. Failure had answers. Survival had answers. If you got hurt, you learned. If you made a mistake, you adapted. Every lesson pointed somewhere. Every consequence taught something. The confusion sitting in front of me now didn't point anywhere at all. The more I thought about it, the less certain I became. Some part of me kept insisting I had done exactly what I was supposed to do, yet every time I looked back toward the civilians watching from the checkpoint, that certainty seemed to weaken a little more.

Without really realizing it, I started moving. My steps carried me closer to Adonis while he continued directing the operation around us. The decision felt practical enough at first. He was leading the mission. Information flowed through him. If something changed, he would know before anyone else. Standing nearby made sense.

At least that was the explanation I gave myself.

When I finally stopped beside him, I became aware that the feeling in my chest had eased slightly. The crowd was still there. The eyes were still there. The questions were still there. Yet standing beside someone who seemed completely unaffected by any of it made the uncertainty feel less immediate somehow.

The realization unsettled me enough that I pushed it away almost as quickly as it appeared.

My attention returned toward the checkpoint. The crowd remained uneasy. The operation continued. Refugees continued moving through security. Everything around me seemed to know exactly what it was supposed to be doing.

Everything except me.

For the first time since the pursuit ended, I found myself standing in the middle of a successful operation feeling more uncertain than I had when the suspect was still running.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Reports were starting to trickle in from other sectors, Mandalorians both visible and not had kept a close eye on other groups of refugees. The warrior's comms cracked with different voices, all repeating the same thing: no copycats. Adonis sighed and exhaled a lump of stress from his body. As the comm channels died out and the commander addressed their reports, he was able to focus on the matter at hand. The buzzing of the citizens, the shouting of the upstarts, it all came back into focus now that he got the all clear. He knew it was easier to handle the big things so the small things would fall into place. His job was to ensure everyone's safety, and that started long before blaster bolts started flying.

The refugees didn't see the Mandalorians on the rooftops. They didn't see the warriors watching side streets or monitoring the crowds. They only saw the arrests, the armor, and the weapons. That was fine, the Mandalorians weren't doing it for recognition, they were doing it because it was their duty. It was a type of pressure that Adonis could tell Perseus was beginning to feel. Adonis noted the other warrior's posture, it seemed the weight Adonis had exhaled earlier had landed on the foundling's shoulders. The older Mandalorian chose not to comment on it just yet, still seeing a lot of himself in Perseus. He figured he would let him figure it out on his own, and if he needed help he would ask, either directly or through other hints.

The crowd started to go back to their normal lives soon enough- just as Adonis had guessed. The excitement of the chase was not enough to keep their interest for long, and without others causing a scene, the lines that had formed before naturally came back to their original shape. They started moving in a single file and routinely, just like they had set up before. This time, it appeared that they took to heart the efficiency of the Mandalorian system. They tightened their lines on their own, giving way for more people to fit at once. Where the armored warriors once stood on watch for the troublemakers, now sat empty, their occupants going back to their seen but unseen positions. It was a reassurance and a warning for those below. A hand that gives can still make a fist.

As Adonis's eyes scanned the people once more, he noted the looks given toward them were not any different. They still looked on them with fear and uncertainty, but they also looked at them with a hope that they would make it out of here. Families huddled closer together, kids stayed by their parent's sides, conversation kept to a hush, but they were peppered with laughs, hugging, and shared food. It was a cycle, Adonis had discovered, war, regrowth, prosperity, and then war. He made a note of Perseus's position next to him. He suspected he understood why the foundling had drifted back toward him. Perseus had just shaken the proverbial mynock's nest, and now he wanted to make sure nothing came crawling out of it. As more time went on, more of the people were filtering out. There were still outliers, but the majority of the crowd had moved on.

"You keep looking at them," Adonis said plainly, crossing his arms, "it never changes, vod." He turned his weight toward the younger Mandalorian before he continued, "They are afraid of you, but they respect you." He motioned back to the smaller group that remained, just looking at the two Mandalorians, some of them pointing and whispering. "Some were going to be afraid of you no matter what, but now they know you protected them." Some of the younger ones were also pointing, but they were excited, like they wanted to be like them when they were older. Adonis hoped it reminded Perseus of the child that gave him the falcon. "Our job is to keep them safe, give them something to come back to when we rebuild. So only think about the ones like that, the rest don't need to understand what we are doing." His tone never broke or had any sort of harshness, he truly wanted to see Perseus reach his full potential.

"No other incidents were reported after your takedown. Whatever they were planning stopped with you." A crushgaunt squeezed Perseus's should tightly before letting go.

 

[Perseus]

I remained quiet after he finished speaking. My attention stayed on the crowd while his words settled somewhere in the back of my mind beside everything else that had happened that day. The checkpoint had largely returned to normal. Families were moving again. Conversations had returned. Children wandered close to their parents while workers carried supplies through the lines. The tension that had seized the area during the chase had mostly faded, leaving behind something quieter. It should have been reassuring to watch. Instead, I found myself studying every movement as though I had missed something important.

Part of me wanted to dismiss what he had said outright. It would have been easier. The crowd still looked nervous. Some people still glanced away when they noticed me looking in their direction. Others kept their conversations quieter than before. None of that had changed. Yet the longer I stood there, the harder it became to ignore the things that had changed. The lines had formed again. People were moving through the checkpoints. Nobody was running. Nobody was shouting. The arguments had faded into murmurs and eventually disappeared altogether. Life had resumed around us despite everything that had happened.

The pressure of his hand against my shoulder lingered longer than it should have after he let go. I wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe because there had been certainty behind it. Not confidence. Certainty. The kind that came from someone who wasn't questioning every decision they had made over the last hour. His words kept returning to me whether I wanted them to or not. No other incidents were reported after your takedown. The statement sat uncomfortably beside everything else I had been thinking because it was difficult to argue against. The suspect had run. I had stopped him. Whatever they had planned ended there. The sequence was simple enough. The kind of cause and effect I normally understood without difficulty.

My gaze drifted across the crowd again and settled briefly on a family moving through one of the checkpoints. The parents looked exhausted. The children looked bored. One of them was pointing excitedly toward a pair of Mandalorians crossing a rooftop in the distance while another tried to get a better look. They didn't look frightened. Curious maybe. Interested. The sight felt strangely familiar and it took me a moment to realize why. The toy sitting in the pouch at my belt immediately came to mind, followed by the memory of a small voice insisting that it protected people. The thought arrived without invitation and refused to leave.

I frowned slightly beneath the helmet.

The frustrating part was that I understood what Adonis was trying to tell me. At least I thought I did. The problem wasn't understanding the words. The problem was that they didn't fit cleanly beside everything else. I kept replaying the chase in my head looking for the mistake. Not because I regretted stopping the suspect, but because some part of me remained convinced I should have done something differently. Every time I reached that point in the memory, the answer slipped away. The suspect still ran. The civilians were still in danger. The arrest still happened. The outcome remained the same no matter how many times I examined it.

That uncertainty bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

For most of my life mistakes made sense. You got hurt. You learned. You adapted. The lesson revealed itself eventually. This felt different. I couldn't tell if I was struggling because I had done something wrong or because I was trying to solve a problem that didn't actually have an answer. The possibility irritated me immediately. Problems were supposed to be solvable. That was the point.

A slow breath escaped through the filters of my helmet while I continued watching the checkpoint operate around us.

"I don't know,"

I admitted quietly.

"I understand what you're saying. I just..."

The words stalled briefly while I searched for the right way to explain something I barely understood myself.

"I keep feeling like I missed something."

The admission sat heavily between us. Not because I expected him to answer it. Because I wasn't entirely sure there was an answer to give.

My attention returned to the crowd. The fear was still there. I could see it. Adonis wasn't wrong about that. Yet the longer I stood there, the harder it became to ignore the other things mixed in with it. Relief. Curiosity. Hope. Gratitude. None of it erased the fear, but it existed alongside it in ways I hadn't noticed before. The realization didn't make me feel better. It didn't suddenly solve the confusion sitting in my chest. It simply added another piece to a puzzle I still didn't understand.

For now, that was enough. Not because I had figured it out, but because it was the first time all day that I felt like I might eventually be able to.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

For a few moments, Adonis didn't answer. His focus remained on the checkpoint as he tossed around Perseus's words in his head. He could still feel the familiar doubt that tinted every sentence the foundling said. It wasn't a bad thing, necessarily, to question your abilities, but when it came down to it Mandalorians needed to be able to make tough decisions. The knight's Dark brown eyes scanned the filtering people as they continued through. He watched families getting back to it, and it was almost like nothing had happened at all now. Life moved on. It always did.

"You didn't miss anything." The answer came plainly.

"You are trying to treat this like a hunt." He turned his body now to face Perseus again, he wanted to ensure the other Mandalorian heard what he was saying. "Like there is a clue you have overlooked, or a mistake you haven't found yet." His heavy shoulders shrugged beneath his armor. "Not every problem works that way." His tone was still even, not accusatory or incendiary by any means.

His helmet turned back toward the crowd. "Sometimes you make the right decision and people are still scared. Sometimes people get hurt, sometimes it's not a perfect ending." He watched as another family gathered their stuff up to move in line, the youngest sharing his bread with the other children while the mother and father carried bags heavier than they should be. The whole situation frustrated Adonis, it could have all been avoided if the Diarchy just kept to themselves.

The older warrior crossed his arms before continuing, "That doesn't mean the decision was wrong." The last word ringing out louder than the ones before over the shared comm channel.

The warrior then let a little bit of silence fall between them before he continued, "What would have happened if he got away?" The question was rhetorical this time. However, Adonis's voice was inquisitive, he truly wanted Perseus to consider the alternative.

"Say he disappeared into the district, say he found whoever he was working with. Maybe they finish what they came here to start, maybe civilians got involved." A crushgaunt motioned toward the line of people moving peacefully. "Instead he is in custody and everyone here gets to move on with their lives."

The Mandalorian stood and watched as a family moved by the two standing warriors cautiously before speaking again. "You keep looking at the fear." Adonis's tone returned to that neutral voice he had before, wanting to emphasize his message rather than preach. "Look harder." He motioned toward the young boy from earlier who had been pointing at the Mandalorians on the roof. He was now covered ear to ear in a smile, talking his father's ear off about what he had just seen. Workers nearby argued over supplies like they hadn't missed a beat, and traders started peddling their wares again.

"They stayed."

His voice stayed quiet this time, "They saw the chase, they saw the arrest, they heard the yells." Adonis paused for a moment. "And they stayed." He looked back at Perseus, hoping that his voice carried the tone he wished his eyes could convey.

Adonis leaned back slightly on one of the nearby barricades. "The goal can't just be to make them comfortable, vod. The goal is to make sure they have somewhere to go tomorrow." He paused for a moment and realized he had been taking up all he air in the conversation.

"That's enough philosophy for one checkpoint. The fact you're asking the question tells me more than the answer ever could." Adonis nodded his head, "You did a good job." The older warrior pushed himself off of the barricade before motioning toward the office.

"Now, we need to give a statement about the arrest."

​

 

[Perseus]

I remained quiet while Adonis spoke, my attention fixed on the checkpoint as though staring at it long enough would somehow reveal whatever it was I felt I had missed. The longer I watched, the harder it became to ignore the reality unfolding in front of me. The lines were moving again. Families were gathering their belongings and continuing on with their day. Workers had already returned to arguing over supplies, merchants were trying to sell what little they had, and children were finding ways to entertain themselves despite everything that had happened. Life had resumed with a speed that felt almost uncomfortable to witness. Earlier it had seemed as though the entire district was watching the chase. Now it felt as though the district had already decided it had more important things to do.

His words sat heavily in the back of my mind because they weren't really answers to the question I had been asking. I had spent the last few minutes trying to treat the situation like a problem that could be solved. Somewhere in my head I had convinced myself there had to be a mistake hidden inside it. Some better choice I should have made. Some clue I hadn't noticed. If I could find that missing piece, then maybe the feeling would go away. Instead Adonis kept dragging my attention away from the chase itself and back toward what happened afterward. Every time he did, I found myself looking at the people around us instead of the suspect lying in custody somewhere behind reinforced walls.

My eyes eventually settled on the boy he had pointed out. The child was still talking animatedly to his father, his hands moving wildly as he described something that had obviously left an impression on him. There wasn't any fear in his expression now. There wasn't any panic in the way he carried himself. Whatever he had witnessed earlier had become a story already. Something exciting. Something worth talking about. The sight immediately brought the toy hidden away in my pouch back to mind, and I found myself looking away before I could dwell on it too long.

The frustrating part was that I understood everything Adonis was saying. The suspect had run. I had stopped him. Whatever he intended to do, he never got the chance. If he had escaped into the district there was no telling what would have happened afterward. Civilians could have been caught in it. More people could have gotten hurt. The logic wasn't complicated. I understood the sequence of events perfectly well. What I didn't understand was why that wasn't enough to settle the discomfort sitting in my chest. Part of me kept returning to the faces in the crowd. The fear. The uncertainty. The hesitation. I wanted there to be a way to protect people without becoming something they were afraid of. The longer I stood there, the more I started to realize that might not be a choice I actually got to make.

A slow breath escaped through the filters of my helmet as my attention drifted across the checkpoint once more. The thing that kept returning to me wasn't the fear anymore. It was what Adonis had pointed out. They stayed. The people who had seen the chase were still here. The people who had heard the shouting were still here. The families were still moving through the lines. Nobody was running. Nobody was abandoning the district. Nobody was acting as though the Mandalorians had become a threat to them. They were cautious. They were uncertain. Some of them were afraid. Yet they stayed anyway.

That realization sat differently than I expected it to. It didn't make me feel better. It didn't suddenly answer every question turning around in my head. It simply made it harder to keep looking at the situation the way I had been. For so long I had been focused on the fear that I hadn't spent much time looking at everything that existed alongside it. Relief. Stability. Routine. The simple fact that people were still willing to build lives here despite everything they had endured.

"I think I was looking for something simple,"

I admitted after a while, my eyes still fixed on the crowd rather than the Mandalorian beside me.

"A right answer. A wrong answer. Some mistake that would explain why this still feels wrong."

The words came easier now than they would have an hour earlier. Not because I had solved the problem, but because I was finally beginning to understand that the problem might not be what I thought it was.

"I don't like that they're afraid,"

I continued, my voice quieter than before.

"I know why they are. I know what they see when they look at us. I just don't know if I'll ever get used to it."

The admission lingered between us for a moment before my attention drifted back toward the family moving through the checkpoint. The child was still talking. His father was still listening. The line was still moving. Life was still moving. Maybe that was the point Adonis had been trying to make all along.

When he finally pushed himself away from the barricade and mentioned the statement, I remained where I was for another few seconds before nodding and falling into step beside him. The questions were still there. The uncertainty was still there. But for the first time since the chase, they no longer felt like something that needed to be solved immediately.

"Let's get it over with,"

I said, glancing toward the office.

"Before somebody decides paperwork is more dangerous than the suspect was."

Adonis Angelis IV