#ithom

They were lucky. So, so, lucky… Pre’s goons were nothing but poorly-trained striil with too short of leashes to properly lash out and attack. Yes, they may have captured both him and Dral, but it wouldn’t be for long. Dral is too slippery to stay tied down and all Jango has to do is stand and break off his crude restraints and he’d be free. 

But all of this seemed wrong… Though he and Dral fell into an obvious trap, Death Watch was usually much more ready and willing to deal with prisoners. Yet Jango was hastily tied down to a chair with only two guards standing over his shoulders. A third guard was setting up a screen in front of Jango, and on that screen was a live feed of a camera positioned over Dral. Dral was more secured, actual clasps holding his wrists to his chair, and he was visor-less. His hair was greasy from sweat and was pushed mostly out of his face, and his left eye was starting to swell (probably a ‘gift’ from one of the Death Watch members). His shoulders were bent forward awkwardly, as if he received a beating to his ribs. Both of them, otherwise, were still in their armor (but they did get Jango’s buy’ce off). 

“Mand’alor Fett…” a voice rang through the speakers of the screen. A deep voice, threatening to subordinates but not to Jango. He sounded like he was going to make a point. “I’m so glad to finally be meeting you and your… cyare. Manda’yaim has been buzzing with rumors about you. Interesting to see that this wasn’t a rumor.” 

The man came in view of the camera, circling around Dral. Dral lifted his head to keep the man in view. All of Jango’s attention was focused on the speaker. 

The armored man stopped suddenly and turned to the camera, black T-visor emotionless. “I thought you were smarter than this.” 

One of Jango’s guards grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him forward, at the same time saying, “Speak, he can hear you.” 

Jango grit his teeth and stared at the screen, snarling, “I’m surprised you hear anything since all you idiots do is hide in holes.” 

The Death Watch lieutenant (Jango is guessing here. The man seems to be the only one in charge) nodded his head slowly. “Do you really think you’re in a position to say that? Besides, your True Mandalorians aren’t any better.” 

He circled around Dral again, taking hold of a chain as he walked behind the young man and yanked the chain. Dral sat upright immediately, face scrunching up in pain. It was then Jango took notice of the collar around Dral’s throat, connected to the chain that just yanked. Jango pushed himself and his chair up but the guards at his shoulders pushed him back down. 

“You don’t mess with the mate of a Mand’alor, I know.” There was a smile in the lieutenant’s voice. “But it’s hard not to when you’ve got the Mand’alor all trussed up, too.” He pulled out a blaster and slowly drew the barrel of it down the side of Dral’s face. Jango stilled. Even Dral, usually appearing calm, was clearly on edge. “I could take out the True Mandalorians right here and now… Starting with your dear one, then coming to deal with you…” 

“You lay a hand on him…” Jango started. 

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” came a sharp reply. The man took a step away from Dral and pointed the blaster at the young man’s temple. Dral’s body jerked as he shook himself out of his thoughts. His brilliant blue eyes looked at the camera, terrified. Jango watched intently, but as the lieutenant pulled the trigger, the screen went black. 

But Jango heard the blaster go off. The lieutenant wouldn’t have been able to move his arm away to fake the shot and there is no way Dral is fast enough to dodge a bolt that close to his head. 

It was quiet in the little room. Jango was leaning forward, waiting for the screen to turn back on but it wasn’t. His entire body felt cold. His guards were hushed, like they didn’t believe what just happened either. The lieutenant might have just killed Dral in cold blood, all because he’s associated with Jango. 

Anger began to overtake his shock, adrenaline pumping into his limbs. Well, it was now or never. 

Jango stood and swung around to bash his chair against one of the guards. All it did was knock them over. He activated the mini flamethrower in his vambrace when he was looming over the warrior and hoped it would do the trick. Before the other Mandalorian could attack, he threw himself their way. He activated the retractable blade and tore through the remains of his restraints before he spun around and dug the blade between the plates of the Death Watch member’s durasteel armor (of course it wasn’t true beskar, Pre was inducting too many warriors into his rank without making sure they all had beskar). 

The third guard, standing by the door, was sleeping on their feet. Once they became aware of what was happening, Jango was already on them and plunging the knife through their neck. 

The Death Watch members died slowly; one burning within their suit and the other two choking on their own blood. It didn’t make Jango feel any better. He stared down at them with scorn. 

No one in the halls fared any better (except maybe they were rewarded with quicker deaths). Jango was only armed with two blaster pistols he took from his guards and left a trail of destruction in his wake. 

It’s what they deserved for thinking they could take him down. And for what they did to Dral? He’s fine—he has to be—but Jango will make every single member of Death Watch pay. 

Most Death Watch members met their ends from bolts coming from standard blaster pistols until they were overheating to dangerous temperatures and were unable to be held. They were not his custom WESTAR-34 blaster pistols and therefore could not hold up to his standards. He eventually ditched the blasters, taking out the remaining Death Watch members by strangulation. 

Jango’s frustration was growing by the second. The longer he’s separated from Dral—the longer he’s unsure of Dral’s fate—the more frantic he begins to grow. 

This is all his fault. Not only was Death Watch Jango’s problem to deal with, but he chose the job. He put Dral in Death Watch’s path and he might have just lost his life for it. He couldn’t have. He has a way of dodging death every time it comes for him. But his luck could have finally run out. His thoughts were a mess and weren’t getting any better the longer he was unable to find the room they had Dral in. 

Finally, as Jango’s gut was full of self-depreciation and fizzled-out anger, Jango opened a door. The Death Watch lieutenant was motionless on the ground at his feet, two other guards dead near the chair Dral had been secured to. Dral was in the opposite corner of the room, trying to get the cuffs off his wrist. He startled when Jango entered and turned his head to face the Mand’alor. The only indication of a blaster going off too close to his face was the searing from a bolt that grazed his cheek and scarcely missed his ear.