THIRTY.
hell is empty; its devils are amongst us!
｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

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Zoya's heart pounds faster than the rhythm of her footsteps as they careen through the halls, making their way towards cell two-two-one. Every breath that falls from her lips is harried, and her chest heaves, trying to pull some oxygen into her lungs for more than a split second before its ripped away again.

            Din notices her struggle and reaches out to touch her elbow as they bring up the back of the group, worry sparking in his eyes beneath the helmet.

            "I'm not made for running," she wheezes.

            Before he can answer, they turn a corner and skid to an abrupt halt at the sight of a massive black hover security droid sliding through the passageway in front of them. Burg doesn't hesitate; with a roar, he barrels straight into the droid, heaving it up into the air and slamming it back onto the ground with brute force. After smashing his fists into it, the Devaronian hurtles the fallen droid through the air, sending it careening into another that's appeared at the end of the hall. An explosion of fire brightens the room like a star exploding. Thick black smoke curls against the ceiling, clinging to the panels like leeches.

            Squinting against the light, Zoya says, "You couldn't have done that before?"

            He merely grunts, tilting his head from side to side to crack his thick neck. As the others begin to move forward, Din lets out a quiet laugh.

            "I guess that means no."

            "I feel like you're the only one that listens to me," she replies as they follow, throwing a glance over her shoulder.

            Din shakes his head. "I'm the only one that wants to put up with you."

            "Careful," she warns. "You don't want to get into this right now."

            "Maybe I do."

            He checks their six quickly, jogging backwards as Mayfeld leads them around the final corner, coming to a stop in front of what must be the cell door their target resides behind, inserting something into the control panel.

            "Z, open it up," he says into the comm.

            "You have fifteen minutes remaining."

            "Open it up!" Mayfeld snaps.

            The lock spins immediately, and Din and Zoya step forward together as the circular white door slides upwards, curiosity singing along their skin, interested to see what it reveals. The prisoner is sat upon a bench at the back of the small cell, and Zoya's eyes widen as it registers that the inmate is a Twi'lek, the same lavender hue as Xi'an. 

            Din steps forward. "Qin."

            "Funny," the Twi'lek says, standing, "the man who left me behind is now my savior."

            "Why does everyone know each other here?" Zoya says, brow wrinkling. "Was there a convention that I missed?"

            Qin steps out through the mouth of the cell, lips twisted into a slimy grin. "Mando," he says, eyes turning to her next. "And you."

            "Introductions later," Zoya mutters. "Let's go. Now."

            Burg moves faster than she'd thought a creature of his size could manage. His hands slam into Din's chest, knocking him back into the empty cell and catching him off guard. Xi'an's long-nailed fingers close around Zoya's upper arms, attempting to do the same to her, but she kicks back, slamming her foot into the front of the Twi'lek's knee with a sharp crack, making her entire leg give out. Xi'an crumples with a cry, dragging Zoya along with her. As soon as she hits the ground, Zoya rolls onto her feet, reaching for her blaster.

            Qin lunges for her arm, but she sidesteps, avoiding his grasp. While her back is turned, Mayfeld jumps forward, thinking her unaware, but the second he's close enough, Zoya whirls, her fist slamming into his nose with a satisfying crack.

            Din leaps out of the cell, and her eyes go to him immediately. The rush of relief she feels, though it only lasts a split second, is enough. Qin locks one of his muscular forearms across her throat while Mayfeld shoves the cold, metal end of a blaster against her temple, scarlet tumbling from his nose to paint a gruesome picture across the lower half of his face.

            "Get—the fuck—off—" Zoya spits out, twisting in the chokehold.

            "Mando!" Mayfeld yells, digging the end of the blaster harder into her head. The reality of the situation crashes in, and Zoya realizes that he could kill her at any second if he wanted to, with the most minimal effort.

            Din spins away from Burg and stops dead at the sight. His breath shudders as it leaves his lungs, and something cold and unflinching curls iron claws around his heart. His voice is strained and icy as he says, "Let her go."

            Mayfeld smiles, the ivory of his teeth slicked crimson with blood. "Get in the fucking cell."

            "Let her go."

            "Get in the fucking cell, or she dies," he snaps, jabbing the muzzle into Zoya's head, sending a stab of pain crackling through her skull.

            Din steps backwards towards the entrance. "How do I know you won't kill her as soon as I go in?"

            Mayfeld's eyes are chips of flint. "You don't."

            Xi'an groans, pushing herself to her feet and trying not to put weight on the leg Zoya had kicked. At the sight of the Twi'lek in pain and the blood gushing from Mayfeld's nose, Zoya allows herself a small smile. Unfortunately, Mayfeld notices and prods the blaster into her head again in a way that is decidedly not gentle.

            "Stop fucking smiling," he cuts, voice rising. "Mando, get in the gods-damned cell! If you make me ask again, her brains will be splattered across the damn floor!"

            Din moves immediately into the cell, and Zoya knows he's looking right at her. She gives him a small nod. If this is the end, she'll have been glad to go down fighting. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Zoya digs her nails into Qin's arm just as he shoves her forward with enough force to send her tumbling into the cell, right into Din. He catches her the best he can, but her momentum takes them both to the floor.

            Mayfeld slaps a hand against one of the buttons on the panel as soon as she's fallen over the threshold, and the door slams closed, locking them inside. The two lay in stunned silence for a moment, Zoya atop Din, until Xi'an's voice echoes through the door, rough and full of pain and fury. "You deserve this!"

            Zoya resists the urge to yell back, setting her forehead against Din's chest, feeling the planes of Beskar cold against her skin. His hands flatten against her spine, and he huffs out a breath he hadn't meant to hold. When she moves to get off of him, he holds her tighter, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart.

            "You put up a hell of a fight," he says, trying to conceal how panic had consumed him when he'd thought he might lose her.

            "Did you expect anything less?"

            He laughs, though it's weak and nearly breathless. "Can't say that I did."

            "Let's get the hell out of here, yeah?" she says, pushing herself onto the ground beside him, talking over the fear that pulls suffocating fingers around her throat. "I know you've got some tricks up your sleeve—er, Beskar?"

            "I might."

            They wait at the door, listening to the sound of a security droid's footfalls as it draws nearer. As it passes, Din aims his grappling hook through the gaps in the door, firing just before the droid passes out of view. The wire wraps around the base of the droid's head, yanking it across the floor until its back hits the cell. Din yanks harder to pin it in place, but the droid lifts its blaster through the bars, firing off a shot that rebounds back and forth between the back wall and the door, narrowly missing Zoya's head as she ducks with a yelp.

            In one fluid movement, Din yanks the blaster from its hand, ripping its arm in half and sending a splash of oil across the door, and turns it back on the droid, firing through the bars and taking the top half of its head off.

            Zoya stares at him as he pulls the severed arm from the door, lips barely parted. "You have to stop doing things like that," she mutters.

            Din inserts the arm into the back of the door, using the notched, rotating cylinder to unlock the cell. "Why?"

            "Never mind," Zoya says, still unable to keep herself from staring.

            He notices and can't keep a smirk from his lips nor the blush from his face as he realizes what she means.

            Once the door is open, they move quickly back through the passageways towards the control room, light on their feet and keeping as quiet as they can. It's empty except for Davan's corpse. The sight of his body sends a fresh wave of regret cascading through Zoya, but the screens are still up, showcasing live feed from around the prison ship, and that turns into their priority. Din tucks his blaster into its holster loosely, keeping it easily accessible, and gestures towards the doorway as if to say, keep watch.

            Pressing her shoulder against the edge of the entrance, Zoya peers down the corridors, seeing no movement. Din moves to one of the control panels, messing with a few switches. A beat later, and the harsh white lights are turned off, replaced by a glowing red. She turns to see him watching the group on the screens, closing off all their exits but one. It's like he's a cat playing with a mouse, a hunter and his prey.

            Din separates the group a moment later, sending a barrier slamming down in between them. They immediately panic, slamming their hands against the wall, mouths opening in silent screams that don't filter through the monitors.

            After watching them for a beat, he turns to Davan's body, kneeling to collect the transmitter still lying on the ground beside him.

            "Do you have a plan?" Zoya asks.

            His head tilts back to look at the ceiling. "Yeah. I do."

            When Burg lumbers into the control room minutes later, Din and Zoya are concealed within the vents above him, holding their breath to keep quiet. As he passes underneath them, Din aims his grappling hook once again through the slits in the vent. When he fires, the cord wraps tightly around Burg's throat. The Devaronian grunts in surprise, hands rising to clutch at the wire. With one heave, he yanks Din through the grates, sending him plummeting to the floor. Zoya stumbles away from the drop and watches as Din fires off what looks like a dozen mini rockets, which fly around the room without affecting Burg.

            Just as the large beast passes underneath the grates again, going to shove Din against the ground, Zoya drops gracefully onto his shoulders like a cat, locking her legs around his neck and holding onto the horns protruding from his skull. He roars, stumbling back and smashing her back against the wall with all the force of his body weight. It loosens her grip just enough that his next spin sends Zoya tumbling to the ground, rolling to a stop against one of the slanted desks holding the control panels.

            Flame billows from the contraptions on Din's wrist as soon as she's out of the way, engulfing the Devaronian's face. All it ends up doing is making his red skin steam.

            "Let's see your face, Mandalorian!" he shouts, reaching for the bottom of Din's helmet.

            Zoya's on her feet in a millisecond, and her and Din's combined strength, funneled into one heavy shove as they barrel towards their adversary in unison, sends Burg to the ground. Din shoots the sensor for the door without hesitation, and it falls down upon the Devaronian.

            It's not enough.

            Burg rises again, the heavy metal door braced upon his shoulders, a sick grin twisting his mouth to show his sharpened teeth. Without hesitation, Din slams his hand down upon a button to the left of the entrance. Two halves of a secondary door shoot out from either side of the doorway, smashing together and concealing Burg from view. Whether he's smashed to bits or merely pinned, Zoya doesn't know.

            Breathing hard, Din glances at her. "You okay?"

            Zoya nods. "Great."

            "Good. Let's go."

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

They slip through the halls, wreathed by a red glow punctuated by the flickering white lights on the walls. Apprehension shadows Zoya's every footfall, wrapping around her like a palpable cloak, reminding her of their enemies that could be lingering behind any corner, waiting to strike either her or Din down.

            Her free fingers brush against his arm as they near another turn, unease tugging at her heels. She gives him a look that reads, wait, and steps forward, moving around the corner before he does, eyes falling directly upon Xi'an's back. Despite the soundlessness of Zoya's movements, the Twi'lek comes to a stop almost immediately, seeming to sense her presence.

            Zoya freezes, gaze catching on the blade gleaming in Xi'an's hands a split second before the Twi'lek spins, the movement made awkward by her injured knee, sending the dagger hurtling towards her. She drops into a crouch, and it rebounds off the wall behind her. Din moves to help, but Zoya holds up a hand to tell him, I've got this. Then, two more scream through the air, but Zoya dodges—barely. One clips her thigh as she moves, slicing along the outside and cutting through her pants. Swallowing a hiss of pain as blood begins to drain from the wound, Zoya lets a smile curl her mouth.

            "That the best you got?"

            Xi'an bares her teeth. "Not yet."

            She whirls two more daggers through the air, and as Din steps out behind Zoya as she advances, one catches him in the shoulder, sending him stumbling back a step. Zoya whips her own knife through the air as Xi'an looks away from her for a split second to see how badly she's injured the Mandalorian. In the small window of the Twi'lek's distraction, Zoya's blade slams into the soft, vulnerable spot where her arm connects to her torso, mirroring how she'd hit Din.

            Xi'an falls to her bad knee with a shout, hand closing around the hilt of Zoya's blade. She moves too slowly; in the next beat, Zoya stands above her, pressing the edge of her other knife to the Twi'lek's throat, a silver thread of satisfaction burning through her chest.

            "Yield," she commands, gaze fixed upon Din, who yanks Xi'an's dagger out of his shoulder.

            Though a wince pulls at his features underneath the helmet, he only has eyes for Zoya, the blood streaming down her leg, and the merciless way she digs the blade into the Twi'lek's throat when Xi'an refuses to answer, a thin rivulet of crimson winding down her skin.

            "Fine," she snarls.

            Zoya's lips curve. "Great."

            Din and Zoya wind back through the passageways with Xi'an as their prisoner, ignoring her spiteful comments until they reach Qin's empty cell. Din opens the door, and Zoya shoves the Twi'lek square in the back, sending her stumbling inside, blood splattering from her shoulder onto the smooth white tiles. It puddles beside Burg's body, still unmoving from the weight of the doors slamming into him. Dragging the Devaronian to the cell had taken them much effort, but they'd managed. As soon as Xi'an joins Burg in the small block, Din presses another button, and the door slams shut.

            Xi'an presses herself against the small openings near the top of the circular door. "You'll regret this," she hisses.

            Zoya's head tilts as she looks upon the Twi'lek. Blood stains the line of her jaw, as if she'd probed the wound on her shoulder then touched her face with dripping fingers. "No," she says, "I don't think we will."

            Xi'an's furious screams echo down the hallways as they move again, searching for Mayfeld and Qin. They ignore the sound; the only thing their senses are focused on are each other and the area ahead, ensuring one another's safety. It's in these moments that their mutual trust and respect is embellished and shoved to the front lines; with Din at her side, Zoya's not constantly glancing over her shoulder or feeling the muscles in her back tense at every small sound.

            It isn't long before they find Mayfeld. He's alert and tense; he jumps overdramatically when a mouse droid rolls across the floor in front of him, and his breaths come labored from his lips, though he's not doing much more than walking at a slow pace.

            This time, Din tells Zoya to wait, his arm stretching out in front of her before she tries to round the corner. Her eyes flick to his visor, and she nods, stepping back and feeling blood trickle farther down her leg.

            Go ahead, her expression says.

            Din slips forward, melting into the onyx and scarlet shadows between short flashes of white light that glare down periodically from the ceiling. He goes in and out of Zoya's view, moving so quickly that she can barely keep her eyes on him for more than a few seconds before he disappears again.

            Mayfield turns around, but it's too late. Din has slipped behind him and stays at Mayfeld's back as he pivots, scanning an empty hallway. The next flash illuminates Zoya, standing with her hip resting against the wall and her blaster hanging idly from her fingers. The light gives Mayfeld just enough time to realize that the Mandalorian isn't with her, and a yell starts to rise from his mouth as he spins, suddenly face to face with a helmet forged of silver Beskar.

            It's the last thing Mayfeld sees before his vision goes black.

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

After throwing Mayfeld into the cell with Xi'an and Burg, Din and Zoya run through the rest of the New Republic ship, weaving through passageways towards the corridor above which the Razor Crest is attached.

            "We make a pretty good team," Zoya says.

            He glances at her, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I think we do."

            "You know," she adds, struggling to breathe and run and talk at the same time, "I'm really glad I didn't kill you."

            "When?"

            "In the Crest. Back when I found you on Nevarro. I put my blaster to your head, don't you remember?"

            "And I knocked that same blaster out of your hand, don't you remember that?" Din reminds her smugly. "You didn't have a chance."

            Zoya huffs. "I had you. I just hesitated."

            "If you say so," he says.

            When they get close enough to where the hatch is, Din and Zoya quiet their voices, easing forward on careful feet. A couple soft clangs echo through the passage, the sound of boots on metal rungs.

            Before they can even see the ladder, Din says, "Qin."

            The sounds quiet as Zoya and Din emerge, and Qin descends back down the ladder slowly, casting them a dark look. "You killed the others," he states.

            "They got what they deserved." Din refrains from correcting him.

            Qin snarls, but when he turns to face them, Din and Zoya already have their blasters out, aiming directly at his head. "Careful," Zoya hums, eyeing the weapon in the Twi'lek's hand.

            He glares, the scars on his face contorting. "You kill me, you don't get your money. Whatever Ran promised, I'll make sure you get it, and more." He starts to ease forward. "Come on, Mando. Be reasonable." Qin tosses his blaster to the ground out of reach, then holds his hands out, asking for cuffs. "You were hired to do a job, right? Then do it. Isn't that your code? Aren't you a man of honor?"

            "Why don't you shut up?" Zoya snaps, picking up on the manipulation. He's playing to the value Din places in his work, scheming to keep his life.

            Qin laughs lowly, shifty eyes moving back to Din. "You always let your woman speak for you?"

            "She usually has better things to say, anyway," Din replies, unfazed.

            Something tugs at the edge of Zoya's mouth, but she quells the smile before it can cross her face, knowing that Qin's watching their every move. Gonna use that against him later.

            "We're finishing the job," Din says finally. "Get in the ship."

            Din goes first up the ladder, leaving Qin and Zoya alone on the New Republic ship. Her blaster is held at the ready, trained at his head, so when the sound of one firing echoes down through the hatch, they both flinch as if she's the one that's pulled the trigger.

            "What the fuck was that?" she snaps, staring upwards.

            "Scared Zero got the drop on your boyfriend?" Qin purrs, slimy tongue flicking out of his mouth.

            "Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Zoya shoves her blaster into its holster, grabbing the rungs. "I trust you can get up by yourself."

            Before the Twi'lek has time to answer, she's already scaled the ladder, ignoring the pain in her leg and shoving herself up through the hatch. To her relief, Din stands unharmed, the child in his arms and a smoldering droid at his feet.

            "What happened?" she says, pushing herself up into the ship.

            "Gods-damned droid was going to kill him," Din mutters.

            Zoya sighs. "Not like we could've expected anything else." Din remains silent, and her eyebrow quirks as Qin starts to climb the ladder below. "I guess this will add more fuel to the fire of droid-hate in you."

            He snorts. "Yeah." Before Qin reaches the Razor Crest, Din carefully passes the gurgling echild into her arms. "Take him to the cabin. I'll be there in a second, and I don't want Qin seeing him, okay?"

            Zoya nods. "Okay."

            Din reaches out and touches her cheek briefly with the backs of his curled fingers. "You were badass."

            The corners of her mouth lift in a surprised smile as he echoes her words from before, even as she steps towards the ladder leading up to the next level of the Razor Crest. "So were you," she replies, turning to climb just in time, as Qin's head starts to emerge into the ship.

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

The trip through hyperspace back to the space port doesn't seem to take as long as before. Perhaps it's because Zoya sits in the pilot's cabin, cradling the child and listening to him coo while watching Din's fingers move across the controls.

            He takes Qin to Ran alone once they've landed, leaving Zoya with the child in the cockpit. He'd told her about the transmitter and what he'd planned to do. Though in retrospect it seemed merciless, Zoya didn't have an ounce of regret in her stomach when she'd told him it was the best idea she'd heard in years.

            Now, he returns to the cockpit, body carved out of stone. "It's done," he says. "Ran will probably try to shoot us down, so we need to get going before the Republic gets here."

            "He's a piece of shit," Zoya mutters as Din settles in. "I'm glad we'll never have to see him again."

            "You'd probably say that about anyone," he says.

            Zoya considers. "Maybe." A beat, then: "Not you, though."

            "No?" Din says, trying to stay casual.

            "No." Zoya swallows hard and builds her nerve. "Don't you remember what I said back there? I think it was pretty self-explanatory."

            "I don't think I do," he replies, pulling the Razor Crest entirely out of the docking area, turning it to the open galaxy.

            Zoya rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "You've got to be kidding."

            His answering laugh is low and rough, and it sends a rush of warmth through Zoya's chest. "I couldn't forget something like that."

            A breath shudders out of Zoya's mouth as her stomach flips, and Din shifts slightly, turning his head to look back at her through his visor. Her eyes search the expanse of the helmet, almost as if she looks at it for the umpteenth time, there will be some sort of glimpse of his actual face, what lies beneath the armor. But, of course: there's nothing but Beskar.

            They haven't flown far before a squadron of X-wings appears, zooming back towards the station. It begins to erupt into dozens of fiery, burning explosions as Din shifts their ship forward into hyperspace. Without a word, he reaches towards one of the levers as blue light fills the cockpit, unscrewing the small metal sphere from the top. He turns back to the child and drops it into the creature's waiting fingers.

            "I told you that was a bad idea," he says to the child, who coos softly as he starts to play with the little ball.

            "And yet we did it anyway," Zoya mutters.

            He tosses the bag of credits back to her. "We need the money."

            "What do we need money for?" She opens the bag, sifting through the credits clinking together inside.

            Din turns to look at her over his shoulder. "You're trying to distract me."

            "From what?"

            Beneath the helmet, Din's teeth catch at his lower lip as he runs back through the memory. The way she'd looked at him, cheeks flushed, hazel eyes wide and glued to him, mouth just barely parted. "From talking about what you said. Back on the prison ship."

            Zoya blinks. Oh.

            Oh fuck.

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

zoya rn