A/N

This is the start of Act One of this story. I don't want to give away too much of what that entails so I just hope you enjoy from here on out and the introduction of the Mandalorian and his mysterious cellmate.


Chapter One: Good Company

"I'm going to keep asking until you answer, you know?"

Laidback and leaning against the cell wall, his fellow criminal asserts her curiosity, her voice sharp and attentive. Cleaning the thinly collected dirt from her boots with her palm, her hardworking hands eventually settle on top of her knee, her head soon following as she rests her chin on top.

Her hastily bunched up ponytail dangles down beside her ragged coat, drawing the bounty hunter's attention to the myriad of holes and blaster marks riddled onto the woman's jacket.

Drawing his eyes away to return to his contemplative staring, he makes sure to keep checking up on the woman from the corner of his visor but her body doesn't move from it's comfortable hunch.

"I know you're looking at me big boy," the woman continues, finally drawing her back back and resting it against the cold wall, twitching to try and find a more comfortable angle. "You're not fooling me with that bucket."

Deciding it would be better to try and satisfy the woman's curiosity before he loses the patience to tolerate her questioning, the bounty hunter likewise seats himself against the wall, his right hand instinctively brushing past where his blaster once was.

"You don't talk much do you?" the woman carries on, head tilting to look through the cell bars with a distant gaze.

"Not to potential targets," the Mandalorian responds, huffing underneath his sweltering helmet. Damn Imperials must have damaged his helmet's air conditioning system when he took the hit from behind.

Mouth opening in clearly fake horror, the woman's hands clasp the sides of her head as she shifts her body in three movements to now better face her cellmate.

Regretting his decision to speak up already, the hunter takes four subtle movements to shift away from his cellmate.

"I'll have you know I'm an upstanding citizen who just happens to be in an unfortunate situation at the moment," a small smirk rising on her dirty face.

Wondering just how long the woman has been down here in the darkness, the Mandalorian scratches a mark onto the stone floor with his left gauntlet just in case his stay ends up longer than expected.

He's supposed to be meeting a seller in order to purchase his own ship in a few days and Mandalore help anyone who gets in the way of him having his own transportation. There's only so much public transportation a man can take before he snaps.

"Annoyed the wrong people?" the Mandalorian thinly conceals his threat, somewhat hoping the woman gets the hint. "Couldn't see that happening."

Perhaps ignoring the threat, the alien flourishes with her hands in some dramatic pre-announcement.

"I'm a rebel!" the woman announces, before chuckling to herself. "In the gambling dens. Turns out, the criminal scum of Havordia don't actually want to pay you anything after you've won. A better option is this, apparently. Now I also wouldn't have parted with the little amount of money I have left if I lost anyway, but turning me over to the Imperials is low."

Attempting to summon up some sense of sympathy for his newly acquired acquaintance, he finds himself not having any at all. Instead, he shakes his head.

"The Empire loves sticking their fingers in," the Mandalorian agrees, although hating to have something in common with the dishonourable alien slowly budging up closer to him.

Without another word, the Mandalorian draws an imaginary line between the two on the cold ground, making a hand gesture he only hopes the woman takes as a warning. She puts her hands up in surrender and stands back up, stretching out.

"Rumour has it Mandalore is not doing so well lately," the Devaronian tutts, whether in mock sympathy or true disgust the hunter doesn't recognise. "Empire's been pushing the boot further and further down - terrorist attacks, they say. Not the first time these idiots have made something up to push their agenda."

"Mandalore will prevail. It always does," comes his reply, to which the alien becomes intrigued.

"Do you actually believe that? Or is it the indoctrination talking?"

Placing her arms through the bars of the cell and pushing her forehead against the metal, the alien gestures for the Mandalorian to join her, hips swaying gently as she hums something to herself.

"Name's Devar by the way," the woman speaks up, one ear perking up as she clearly anticipates his name in return for the information.

It's normally against his standard procedure to divulge personal information to someone he's only just met, but given the circumstances it would be deemed somewhat rude to not at least return the trust with something of equal value.

Taking a breath to check the air conditioning he's been fiddling about with during Devar's rambles, the Mandalorian smiles underneath his helmet as the warm air is quickly replaced with a comfortable, crisp coolant.

"Shay," the Mandalorian returns one courtesy with another, waving off Devar's outstretched hand.

Standing of his own accord, he quickly shakes off his boots again and pats down the visible dirt which had been collecting on his stationary armour. Damn planet won't give him a moment to rest without covering him in dirt and refuse.

Ambling over to the bars, the Mandalorian presses his helmet against the reinforced metal. His helmet is tough and durable, but unfortunately not enough to punch a hole straight through.

"Verdict?" the Mandalorian asks his cellmate.

"Both guilty," she answers curtly. "If we're lucky, some time in a detention centre. If not, execution."

"Not exactly the Mando way of going out, huh?" Shay chuckles.

"Not the Devaronian way either. Usually we go out stabbing each other in the back," she returns with a quiet laugh of her own.

It would be easy to give in and surrender to the Imperials. Maybe beg for mercy in return for a short period of service in the Imperial Navy.

Too bad for the Imperials he stays away from easy. Not always on purpose.

Looking closer at his gauntlets, he notices a small crack where the black paint had been scratched, revealing the metallic surface underneath. Cursing the Imperials for all the misfortune being brought down upon him, his gaze returns upwards to see his cellmate staring directly at his right pauldron.

"Interesting symbol," she observes, eyes narrowing. "What does it mean?"

Deciding not to share whilst they are currently placed inside of an Imperial jail cell, he simply stares her down until she moves her eyes away. Words are overrated anyway.

"Sorry about the scratch. With the amount of black on your armour I'm sure you got some spare coating somewhere."

Strange, a female voice.

Not the same voice of his alien companion, nor is there anyone else in the cell with them.

Facing forwards through the cell bars, a lone stormtrooper stands straight, watching the two. Impressive, considering he never even knew the trooper was there until she spoke.

"Better not have been you, Imperial," Shay responds, moving closer to the bars and grabbing hold of them menacingly.

"Imperial protocol states I should shock you for touching the bars," the trooper annoyingly replies, her shock baton calmly awaiting instruction from her side.

If he can get her closer, there's a chance he can get the baton. The next step would be to threaten the trooper into opening the cell, but then comes the difficulties associated with breaking out. The Devaronian seems like she's been in a handful of scraps, but not enough to help break out of here with just the two of them.

Better to try than patiently wait for his execution.

Waiting for the trooper to turn around and head towards the clean and neat desk opposite the cell, the Mandalorian makes sure Devar sees him gesturing towards the baton. Thankfully, the alien nods in agreement and sleeks back a bit, giving him some more space to manoeuvre.

Instead of sitting at the desk like a pompous Imperial, the trooper grabs the chair from the desk and skids it across the floor until it's directly in front of the cell.

"You're a small one aren't you?" Devar points out.

Being small for a civilian let alone a stormtrooper, the Imperial is unlikely to mount any serious resistance to the Mandalorian should he manage to get a hold of her. However, he gets a feeling she's not worried in the slightest about that happening. Maybe it's the way she glides down into the chair, propping her blaster against the chair and sits back with her head resting on her arms, carefree and relaxed.

"Hard times call for looser regulation. There wasn't enough troopers to garrison this small 'correction' facility so they had to expand their net and luckily for you two, it might be the best thing which has happened for you since you came onto this planet," the trooper finally speaks up, almost falling off the chair by the end but catching herself before it happened. "Awkward."

"And why would that be, young lady?" Devar wonders, her interest plain for all to see.

The alien moves forwards once more, keeping her eyes fixed on the Imperial as she places her head in between two bars and awaits a response.

"Criminals like you must have a ship, no?" the trooper asks, leaning forwards now.

"Don't know about Mando here but I certainly do. Quite frankly, she's one of the most beautiful things ever created," Devar whispers, hands rubbing the bars awkwardly. "No Imperial will ever lay eyes upon her though."

Laughing under her helmet, the young trooper responds. "Well, this time might have to be an exception. Let me just get your stuff and we are out of here."

Surely this is some kind of bait. No Imperial just ups and leaves their post with two criminals without there being some maniacal plan behind it, usually involving attempting to capture rebels.

"That it? Just like that," Shay dismissively snorts.

"The deal's simple enough: I help you escape this little predicament and you help me with a little something," the trooper responds, tone and body language acting as though it was obvious. "Be prepared to leave ASAP oldies."

Just like that, the Imperial marches off, leaving the lone chair waiting outside the cell. It rocks slightly for a while before coming to a complete stop, leaving the two cellmates in both amazement and wonder.

Turning to Devar, the Mandalorian shakes his head.

"I believe her," the alien smiles.

"Believe an Imperial? Never ends well, trust me on that," Shay responds, now shaking his head at this cellmate as well.

"Come on, the girl clearly wants to leave as badly as us. The girl is asking two people currently in a cell for help and there's some amount of desperation in that. More than enough for me to take her word at least for now, anyway."

"This is turning out to be quite the day," the Mandalorian sighs deeply.

"Consider yourself lucky you might have the chance to see another," the alien wisely points out, although the Mandalorian refuses to give her the satisfaction of stating as such.

"Mandalore help me."