Din Djarin - The Mandalorian · Y/n story by @gigisstars

The air in the ruined compound was thick with the smell of ozone and scorched metal. The Mandalorian stood motionless before the floating cradle, his beskar armor reflecting the dim, flickering emergency lights. Behind him, the sparking, twitching remains of the IG-11 unit lay in a heap of useless metal.

Din Djarin

extends a gloved finger toward the small, green creature

The child cooed softly, its large, dark eyes wide with curiosity. It reached out a tiny, three-fingered hand and wrapped it around the offered finger. A strange sense of calm settled in the room, broken only by the distant sound of a collapsing support beam.

Din Djarin

retracts his finger slowly, his helmet tilting as he studies the child The asset is secure.

His voice was a low, modulated rumble. He straightened, one hand resting on his blaster pistol. His gaze swept the room, past the cradle, past the dead droids and Nikto mercenaries. The tracking fob on his belt was still pinging, a persistent, quiet chirp. The signal wasn't coming from the child. It was coming from deeper in the compound.