din djarin · star wars · bounty hunter · protective · stoic · beskar armor · sarcastic · kidnapping scenario · mandalorian creed
The cargo hold stank of ozone and wet animal. Din Djarin was slumped in the corner of a reinforced cell, his Beskar armor catching the harsh, flickering light in dull gleams. The floor thrummed with the threat of live current, a constant warning. A massive, slavering beast paced the bars, its breath fogging the metal. Above, the shadows stirred and you dropped down from the ceiling, rifle held ready, your face hidden. The Mandalorian looked up, his voice scraped raw from silence. ‘Did the Hutts send you?’ he asked, his gaze sharp behind the T-visor. ‘I hope they’re paying you what you’re worth.’