Note: Welcome! A brand-new fanfiction packed full of Star Wars mythology, comic and lore. This will be a mature fanfiction with sexuality, adult themes and violence. It is a slow burn. The dialogue isn't 100% like the tv show as its been adapted to a prose-style narrative not a script.

»»—- Violent Delights —-««

I cannot let you burn me up,
nor can I resist you.
No mere human can stand in a fire
and not be consumed.

A. S. Byatt, Possession.

Chapter One: The Eve of Revelation

Anthan Spire Medical Bay

Far across the galaxy, in the Outer Rim System, was the planet Anthan Prime. It was one of the few gaseous territories colonised by a Near-Human species known as Mykes. As a rich species, they catered for the upper class as it kept their connections rich; thriving with top-tier technology and attention.

The Mykes investment transformed the planet in a vacation resort for the Empire's bourgeoisie.

With twenty-seven moons, every balcony and window could be used as a seat for the cinematic glory of the galaxy. With the rich, came their alluringly nefarious lifestyle. The resort was rumoured to cater several cartels as well as white-collar criminals. Money bought ascendancy, menace and confidentiality. There were many evils at work in the Anthan Spire Resort which was why they had an extensive employment of healers.

With a white gown draped over their slender figures, the healers existed like a painting on a wall; a marble, white wall connected to pristine architecture.

Valyr took pleasure in the chameleon-esque attire.

She stared out of a glass wall; into the great black sea of the universe. The stars flickered half-heartedly. Valyr knew they were the dead ones. If she had the blessing of eternity, she could sit and wait for the stars to truly go out instead of wondering whether a great ship was tainting her view or if the star had experienced an off-day; not quite in the mood to burn.

Clicking her fingers, she readjusted her gaze down to her clipboard.

"Benevolence be with you," a chirpy voice said beside her. "A group of Orlaks docked this morning." Hek was a healer from the planet Coruscant. Her purple skin looked beautiful against the white uniform; she gained many admirers, some more pesky than others.

"And with you," Valyr grinned. "We have a herd of chevs who arrived last week. If a battle breaks out at one of the feasts, we will have a bounty of injuries."

"Chevs are meant to be sentient things," Hek pushed a red curl back inside her veil. "The only thing sentient about them are their bed manners."

"Let us hope they rip into the Orlaks, then." Valyr left the comfortable space beside the wall and followed her accomplice down the Western corridor. "I had a two-month old yogre last night with colostomy changes every thirty minutes. If I don't get my hands on something bloody, then I'll chew my own leg up just to stitch it back together."

"On the Gods, your aspirations are so small."

"They're reserved. I can't beg for an injury so severe that a guest must be bed-ridden for weeks." Valyr was reserved and plain; happy floating through the healing bay in her own pocket of existence.

"I will have a surgical procedure. My name will be printed in the Benevolent Paper next week, you'll see. I wish you were competitive and then you'd be so much more exciting. You've never landed your name in the newspaper and you've been here, what? Three months?"

"I enjoy speaking to my patients, not itching to get them unconscious so I can slice open their chest." They entered the employee lounge, greeted by a pleasant roar of chatter and early diners. Time worked differently mid-space, especially as Anthan Prime was surrounded by three suns. The Spire created its own evening-to-night routine with holographic windows.

Valyr was always on alert when the morning came. She could be relied upon to be stood waiting by the glass, watching the galaxy shimmer back into existence.

"Benevolence be with you!" the head-chef yakked at her and Hek. "Fried rantos pancakes for breakfast, ladies!"

Valyr headed to the back of the queue and grabbed a tray. "And with you, Kronos," she smiled down at her. "Sounds divine."

The room was full of movement. Interns rushed to shove their pastries and herbal drinks down their throats before sprinting out the door to find their attendants. Surgeries were first come, first served on the Anthan Spire.

"How do you know you'll have a surgery?" Valyr frowned down at Hek.

"Do you believe I'll divulge my secrets with you? You'll have to just watch from the gallery."

"I'm not kissing your ego. Tell me. Now."

"Screw an attending and then you'll find out."

Valyr's mouth dropped open. She blinked quickly, watching Hek's cheeky smirk grow. Infuriated annoyance swelled inside of Valyr's chest. She took ahold of Hek's arm and pulled her back. "You can't sleep your way into getting what you want."

"How do you think I got a first class in all of my degrees?" Hek said. "And to the top of the list out of Coruscant?"

"You're sinful."

"And you're boring. When have you ever used your charm to get what you want. Oh, yes. Never," she stuck her lilac tongue out and blew. Spit speckled Valyr's cheeks. She scoffed at the healer and shoved in front of her. The chef slid a hefty pancake onto her plate and drizzled red syrup over its middle. Kronos was a plump half-hutt with dazzling red lipstick to match her crimson tail.

"Get them berries in your girl," Kronos said, heaping a dump of fruit onto Valyr's plate. "They're a natural aphrodisiac, y'know."

Valyr snorted. "I did not know. I don't think I'll be needing that, Kronos."

"No? Your friend looks like she's got all the aphrodisiac she needs." They turned to watch Hek who had left the queue and was in a deep conversation with a Twi'Lek attendant healer. Valyr knew his name was Gon. She also knew he used his position to get into the knickers of surgery-hungry healers.

"What are they serving this morning?" Gon asked, his hand sliding up Hek's wrist.

"Pancakes," she said, fluttering her long lashes.

"Save me a seat," he squeezed her sumptuously. "Benevolence be with you."

"And with you." The attendant turned on his head and disappeared from the room, drawing the attention of many and leaving Hek with bright red cheeks. The Cruscant healer was humming as she filled two plates with food and met Valyr's disapproving gaze.

"The bags under his eyes tell me he hasn't slept properly in days. I very much doubt he's losing sleep due to stress."

The pair found a small table beside a glass wall. Valyr touched it with her fingertips causing it to shudder and shiver, then destabilise to reveal the Anthan planet below. It was a whirlwind of gases; pinks and oranges swept into great storms, staring up at the Spire like an all-seeing eye.

Valyr idly picked at her breakfast, deeply occupied by the desire to see past the planet and into space. She decided she would go to the Eastern wing first, that's where she could see the stars as she checked her patients.

"Hurry up," Hek suddenly urged.

"What?" she choked.

"Come on. Gon's coming back any moment."

"You really are unbelievable."

The women stared at one another for several moments. Valyr's intense stare forced Hek to crumble into an embarrassed, flustered mess. "I received a letter from my Mother yesterday," she muttered, aggressively biting into her pancake. "She wants me to find a husband by the end of Boonta Eve."

Valyr sighed for her friend. Coming from a strict family was as painful as it was coming from family who didn't care at all. She leaned on her elbows. "Gon isn't marital material. He's a whore."

"All the Gods," Hek groaned. "Can't he be a whore and be mine?"

"A man can be a whore for you and you alone, but not a whore for anything with female body parts." As she pushed her plate away, another healer approached them. She was carrying a handful of clipboards and scanning chits. Valyr eyed them with an enticed gleam.

"You, my friend," the healer said. "Are going to be kissing my feet when you see what I have."

Valyr laughed and took one of the sheets from her. "Tell me it's a bullet wound."

"The medical Gods have shone down on us. It might even be surgical!" the woman continued. Valyr lowered the sheet, glancing back at Hek. "Well, I don't know if I'm ready to perform a surgery actually."

"You are!" she cried, pulling Valyr's gaze back up to her.

Hek stuttered incredulously at the pair of them. "I'm ready to do a surgery today. I can do it instead."

The healer glanced down at her. "I've heard a rumour you're on Doctor Gon's service? Besides, I'm sure you'll hear the details. Word seems to travel fast around here," distaste flashed in her eyes. "As do the sexually transmitted diseases."

Hek's face dropped, her mouth hanging wide. The healer took the sheet from Valyr's hands and turned on her heal with her head held high. Valyr couldn't see her face beneath the veil, but imagined it was hiding a smirk.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt for Hek's burnt pride, Valyr rose to her feet. "Save me a pancake if they have any for lunch. Not sure how long I'll be."

Narrowing her eyes, Hek huffed. "Only so you can choke on it."

"Like you do with Gon's cock?"

Hek clenched her teeth together, flaring up with embarrassment. Just as the brown eyed girl went for her friend's throat, Valyr dove sideways. "Benevolence be with you!" she snorted and escaped from the staffroom, listening to the woman swear loudly.

Nevarro

Greef Karga distractedly fiddled with the stem of his metal goblet. It was warm through the tip of his grootslang-skin gloves. They were tatty; most of the epidermis and hide had worn away long ago so only thin membrane protected his fingers. His figured he could wrangle a new pair soon, even if it was off the limp body of some poor bastard.

He eyed a stocky man sat at the bar. His gloves were dark green; expensive. With a click of his tongue, he took note of it and returned to his drink. Several clients had entered and spoken with him that morning and not one offered him a drink. It would've been a pleasant gesture to have someone else giving him a cup of hot herbs. Alas, credits were all his clients ultimately cared for.

"Another, Julb," he raised a finger at the Noghri bartender. They were on a first name basis. Karga turned back to the Mandalorian. There was no point in offering him a drink; he was untouchable in every emotional and physical sense.

"Not thirsty," the Mandalorian said.

With a wry grin, Karga leaned forwards. "Fine. There is one job I have. It's in two parts."

"Am I collecting decommissioned droid halves?"

Karga slid a sleek holographic device across the table. It hissed on the metal surface, coming to a sharp stop in the Mandalorian's hand.

Julb appeared beside, pouring a steaming stream of herbal tea into Kargg's cup. It frothed and bubbled before settling. A delicious waft of honey slipped under Din Djarin's helmet. He tilted his head, pushing the smell away and out of touch.

His agent took a sip. The silence became tediously painful as Din waited, remaining still and unmoving.

"There's no puck," Kargg looked at the Mandalorian over the rim of his goblet. "It's face to face. Direct commission."

Straightening, the Mandalorian's intrigue grew. It had been many moons since he'd retrieved an underground bounty. Thieves and scoundrels were smooth bounties. Most were sloppy fools who came willingly when they discovered who and what he was. "How much?" he could scarcely guess how many units he'd earn. It made his teeth clench. "Who is it?"

"Deep pocket," Karga said.

"It's underworld?"

"It has no chain code. Attain the first and then the second," he sipped his drink, pursing his lips on the scolding sting which accompanied it. "Do you want the chits or not?"

Din Djarin's steel armour made a crystallised metallic clink as he wrapped his fingers around the puck. He slipped it into a pocket on his belt. The honey aroma was getting to his head; he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a moment to breathe in earthy pleasures.

Karga clicked his tongue, shooting a look around the bar. They'd drawn the attention of many guests. The Mandalorian's cool voice was enough to do so. He only spoke when necessary. It wasn't good for protecting Karga's clients privacy, but Din Djarin's ability to scatter every peeping weasel was a blessing.

"It's one click west. The old Imperial Hub. They're waiting."

Din Djarin gave him a curt nod and rose from the booth. The other drinkers and bounty hunters attempted to regain a sense of normality, having been caught snooping on his business. He shot an annoyed glare across the room, earning an uncomfortable sea of glances.

Outside, the weather was pleasantly dry. Sand crunched under his heavy boots as well as mud and bits of debris dropped by thieves or broken ship parts. It was an ugly city, full of ugly people. Only the surface though. Underground was where Din found true beauty. It was all he really knew; the caves, tunnels and rivers of the Mandalorian hideout.

Secrecy was both a blessing and a curse.

He rounded a corner, sensing a dozen eyes watching him as he neared the Imperial Hub. He came to a stop outside of its rusty door and waited in distrust as a doorbell droid shot out of the wall, obnoxiously shoving itself into his face.

"He chuba da naga ?" the tt-8l droid barked. (What do you want?)

They were tattletale droids; nosy and irritating in their questioning. Din tilted his head and clenched his teeth as it continued to speak. It was trained to be provoking. Usually to protect the inhabitants inside from nefarious knockers.

"Chas po kuta coo," it cranked. (I'm watching you).

Din took the metal disc from his pocket. He flashed it up, watching the flashing red of the gatekeeper droid sparkle. It was like an insect; its tiny head was packed to the brim with eyeballs. As with an insect, it wasn't strong or smart enough to survive the hard blast of the Mandalorian's fist.

"Ya ba dookie… Client won neechee kochba mu shanee wy tonny wya uska," it said. (If you betray him… the Client will put a bounty on you so high that every hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you.)

Din slid the chit beneath his cape. He nodded at the pesky droid and said: "Uth na meeto numaa." (That won't happen.)

He entered the dim hallway and fell into line behind a power droid. It gonked through the darkness, bleeping and shuffling quietly. The atmosphere was tense. Din sensed the Imperialistic occupation just ahead and entered the reception area with as much stipulation as a creature did into a slaughter-house.

A wiry man sat at a desk in the middle of the room. He was old and weak, and it wouldn't take much out of Din's day to kill. He saunted forwards, eying the stormtroopers on either side of him. All gazes were on him and in return, he watched everything else.

"Greef Karga said you were coming," the man leered.

Din tilted his head towards the Imperial Army troops. "What else did he say?" The locals called them bucketheads and rightly so. Din hadn't had the pleasure of knocking a pair of them out yet, but he wouldn't hesitate to do so if it came down to it. "He said you were the best in the parsec," the client continued, his voice rattling through Din's helmet like a slithering serpent.

A door on Din's right slid open. He whipped out his blaster, aiming it at the scurrying man who had appeared.

"Freeze!" a stormtrooper cried. Din revealed another weapon, aiming it at the bucket atop the soldier's ugly armour.

The new stranger raised his hands and dropped to his knees. "Wait!" he blubbered, "no, no, no!"

"Drop your weapons," another trooper ordered Din. It was ignored to their disgruntled annoyance. They edged closer to the Mandalorian until the client got to his feet with his hands poised.

"Now, now," he bowed. "I didn't mean to alarm you."

"What is this?" Din demanded, clicking the trigger of his blaster.

"This is Doctor Pershing. He's with us so you'll have to excuse his lack of decorum. He's quite enthusiastic about the whole affair. It seems his enthusiasm outweighs discretion." The client edged around his desk and approached Din, disregarding the weapons and showing fearlessness that unsettled the Mandalorian's core. "Please lower your blaster," he said.

"Tell them to lower theirs first," Din shot a dirty look to his left.

The stormtrooper clutched his weapon. "Like you have permission to give orders. We have you four to one."

"I like those odds," he returned icily.

The client raised his hands again and the stormtroopers took their silent order. An annoyed shift emitted from them, but Din was able to stand straight again and return his blaster to his belt. "What else did he say?" he asked, following the client back to his desk.

"He also said you were expensive. Very expensive. I have something I think you will like. Please," he pointed to a vacant chair, "sit."

Din did so but managed to shoot a foul glance at each being in the room. He let them know he was posed for whatever mini battle their threw at him. The only living thing that would leave that hub would be him.

"Let's settle down," the client said, sensing the affair. He fiddled with a drawer at his feet and took out a thin slather of metal. His clinked on the table. "Beskar?" Din stilled, withholding his desire to grab it.

"Go ahead. It's real, I assure you."

Beskar was one of the toughest metals in the galaxy. Its existence was legendary among Din's people as well as the universe. Able to withstand the shot from a blaster and repel the harshest of beatings; it was a desirable asset for any Mandalorian. Din turned it thrice in his hand.

"That is only a down payment. Take is as a gesture of goodwill," the client soothed. "I have a camtono of Beskar waiting just for you upon the delivery of the assets. Collect them separately, but they must return to me together."

Din enjoyed the cool silver in his fingers. "Does it matter who I collect first?"

"Without the first, you cannot locate the second. It had all been a rather excessively tedious affair."

"Alive?"

"Yes. Both alive. Unless you run into complications then termination of both assets is necessary."

Doctor Pershing shifted in the corner of the room, wringing his hands together at the client's words. He wore round sunglasses which hid most of his face. Din knew more than anyone that a hidden expression was more powerful than an exposed one. The doctor wanted them alive. The client was less sympathetic.

"Alive," Din repeated.

"Although, I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. If you terminate the assets, then we will offer a lowered fee if you return with proof."

"That is not what we agreed upon," Din said. "Full fee."

"I'm simply being pragmatic. Some things are better jumping than limp."

Sliding his gaze back to the client, Din clenched his teeth for several moments. He needed that Beskar steel. His armour was wearing thin and wouldn't last much longer. Compared to the other members of the creed, he was materialistically lower tier. Appearances were both everything and nothing to a Mandalorian. "Let's see the puck," he said.

"I'm afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. We can only offer you a tracking chit for the first asset. Once you attain them, you must acquire the tracking fob from them in order to retrieve the second."

"The first is what?"

"Human," the client shifted his gaze to the doctor.

"And the second?"

"We can only provide the last four digits of its intergalactical code. Which is why you must complete the first retrieval."

"Only its age? What is it?"

"They're fifty years old," he said. "Between the first retrieval and the collection of the fob, a man of your skill should make such a hefty task short work."

Tilting his head, Din rose from the desk. He disregarded the lost look of the doctor. What was a feebly weak man doing inside an Imperialistic base? It was neither Din's business, nor his issue. Yet, as he sauntered out of the hub and into the bustling sandstreet, he was compelled by the mission ahead. The first asset would be easy. Many were taken aback by the appearance of a Mandalorian as they seldom appeared out of their underground hovels.

The second asset was middle-aged. He would be as weak as the client, with deep wrinkles and old bones. Din flexed his fingers around the Beskar steel in his grip. He should've hidden it away in his pocket as thieves were riot in the little city, but he was far too proud.

Anthan Spire Medical Bay

"His vitals are steady," Valyr commented to her superior officer. She scribbled several notes; his heartbeats (he had three), chemical levels and brain waves. Her attending healer nodded, "Keep an eye on him for about an hour. His brother is one of our highest patrons."

Valyr adjusted the bags of medicine dripping into his arms so they dribbled into the catheter slower. It was rather sick that the healers were ordered to pay more attention to the richer guests due to their wealth. However, she had decided to occupy a capitalist city for the time being and had to follow the rules.

The patient didn't have many guests. Obviously, his brother had popped in twice, but the pool and leisure centre were far too tempting for him to stay long. Last Valyr heard, he was in the brothel on the seventeenth floor, paying for a bottle of champagne that would've taken Valyr years to save up for. She leaned against the side glass wall and exhaled, watching the stars.

"I'd say the view was one of the best just to impress you," she said. "But I imagine someone such as yourself would look at this and compare it to dirt under your shoe."

She hummed gently for several minutes, noting the patient's breathing and doing her job. As long as she was out of sight and out of any. Anthan newspapers, she was pleasantly rested.

A middle-aged man appeared in the doorway to her surprise. He was slightly scruffy with old shoes and a second-hand duster coat covering his entire body. Valyr eyed him and smiled.

"Morning," she said.

"Aye," he nodded. "Mind if you leave us?"

Valyr shook her head. "I'm terribly sorry, I'm unable to leave this room. He has to be kept under surveillance."

"That's a real shame," he muttered and shoved his hand into his pocket. Valyr straightened, her eyes darting down to the tracking fob he pulled out. It beeped erratically, speeding up with every step his took forwards. She swallowed and took a step sideways.

The bounty hunter whipped a hand out, pointing at her gruffly. "Watch it. Don't move."

"Please don't kill him," she begged. The fob sped up as he neared the middle of the room.

"Let me get my tracking chit, darling," he gutturally wavered, inching towards her. Valyr's eyes darted down to his thighs, feet and stance. He was a sloppy, half-drunk bounty hunter looking for a bit of cash. "No one has to know I was 'ere. Patients die all the time, don't they?"

Valyr feigned fear. Her eyes widened, filling with shining tears. With a shaky breath, she took a step sideways and lowered her hands. The bounty hunter's eyes slid over her figure. He was figuring out what kind of body was hidden underneath and how easy it would be to overpower a healer. Especially one as pitifully frightened as her.

With a semi-muffled sob, Valyr edged towards the wall. The hunter crept towards the bed and took out a carving knife. It was rusty, appearing to be from the crevices of an old kitchen. A twisted grin swam across his lips as he dragged his eyes away from Valyr and down to the patient.

"You leave his things on 'im?" he prodded the bedsheets, pulling them up to reveal a blue medical gown. "They in 'ere?" Moving to the cupboard, he opened it and shoved his entire face in. A sickening waft of sweat swam up Valyr's nostrils as he whipped his head back up at her, prodding her for an answer. "Well?" he barked.

She jumped and whimpered. "The b-bottom drawer. They're all in the bottom drawer… please don't hurt me."

Sliding his attention back to it, he snorted half-heartedly. "Just you wait. I'll come back for you. I'll be able to afford one o' these rooms, then."

As smooth as a wave was on a beach in the midsummer sunlight, Valyr's petrified expression slipped off her face. She narrowed her eyes and pushed her flute sleeve up her arm, revealing a slender dagger. It was tiny, similar to a cheese knife rather than anything terrifying. With a swooping diving, she took hold of the hunter's neck and wrenched him back, so she had him trapped between her legs.

With her teeth inches from her ear, she pressed her face against his and inhaled the foul stench of his confusion.

"W-What you doin'?" he stuttered and attempted to move. She wrapped her legs tighter around him and used her other arm to lock his head in an unmovable position.

"Good luck spending those units in hell," she whispered and slid the dagger down his cheek. He struggled for several second and fell limp in her grasp. Valyr hurried to her feet and pull him towards the corner of the room where the industrial rubbish shoot was located. Only personnel could access the opening. With her I.D card it revealed itself and swallowed the sweaty, limp body of the hunter.

There was a crushing, grinding noise and then a horrific squelch. She pressed the compression button and then the removal one. The shoot's lid slammed shut and she darted to the window, grasping her skrits with one hand and shoving her veil out of her face.

Pressing her sweaty nose to the glass, she watched a frozen hunk of rubbish falling down, down, down to the surface of Anthan. It was a mush of flesh, medicine and bandages. All of it was compressed together so the average watcher could not recognise anything distinguishable.

It was perfectly brutal.

Valyr brushed her gown down, flattening the creases. She slid the knife into it sheath and washed her hands thoroughly. Beside her, the patient grumbled and awoke from his post-surgical anaesthesia.

"Uh," he murmured. "Hello? H-How did it go?"

Valyr approached him with a gentle smile. She patted his shoulder. "It went wonderfully. With the course of antibiotics, we have assigned to you, you should make a full recovery and be ready for another few pool days before you return home."

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