Shit. Shit shit shit!
Your feet take you as swiftly as they can away from the barrage of blaster fire aimed in your direction. Shoving people aside as best you can–the chaos and confusion from all the shooting was making navigation through the crowd extremely difficult–you continue your escape into the heart of the spaceport’s sprawling city.
With luck, you’ll lose the bounty hunters in the fleeing people and the maze-like construction of the buildings.
You make it to where the market ends and the metal buildings began without getting shot, though from the shouting and screaming behind you, you could tell the hunters were gaining swiftly.
You dash down a side alley, heart pounding in your chest from all the running. You’d run out of steam here soon, but there was still some fight-or-flight adrenaline left in you, propelling your feet forward in an effort to save your life.
After several minutes of running, you ducked into a small alcove a good distance away from where the shooting had began in the space port. Ears rushing with blood, you take the chance to catch your breath and listen for anyone nearby. Huffing and puffing, you lean back your head and slide to the ground.
You close your eyes and rest, allowing yourself to relax for just a second. Once everything died down, you’d hightail it back to your ship and get the hell out of-
“Found you.”
Before you could snap your eyes open and see who had been there, your head is kicked with enough force to knock you out completely.
The next thing you know, you’re waking up in the corner of a barred cell, surrounded by the telltale walls of a ship with your wrists secured by a metal brace behind your back. A few experimental tugs on them confirmed they were the best on the market, tailored specifically for weasley thieves like you. Just great.
Figuring there was no use in resisting, you relaxed your body and took a more comfortable seat on the ground, closing your eyes to wait and see if your captors came to see you.
Turns out you didn’t have to wait long. The opening of a hydraulic door made you snap your eyes open, having been nearly on the verge of sleep it was a bit startling. You sat up straighter as three armed and armored men stepped into your field of view in front of the cell bars.
“You sure can run fast, but I thought you’d put up more of a fight when you finally went down. Must not take much nowadays to get a bounty like yours.” The supposed leader said, holding up a hologram of your wanted profile. You realized with mild interest that your bounty had risen since the last time you checked. Huh.
You sigh, leaning back your head again. “You caught me on a bad day…”
“Shame. I was looking forward to the challenge of bringing you in. Y/N, the famous starship thief, who’s always managed to escape a GG jail cell.” The leader’s head shook, as if disappointed. “I guess the real deal just doesn’t live up to the legend.”
“If you want an autograph, just say so.” You say in a half-snarl. Their smug attitudes were annoying you.
He shrugged. “Heh, not like it would be valuable for long. We’re already in the Red Line sector. You’ll be in the Galactic Government’s hands in a week tops.”
“Great. Now do you mind? I was trying to sleep when you barged in here all high and mighty.”
Your irritated words only served to make them laugh. “Enjoy your freedom while you can, Y/N. I’ve heard those GG cells aren’t five star by any means.”
Muttering that this wasn’t exactly freedom either under your breath, you watch as they begin to leave the room. Well…all but one of them. The third one, a masked man who hadn’t said anything up to this point, stood with crossed arms in front of your cell.
You eye him warily, wondering what he could possibly want, but then he reached over and drags a stool from off to the side closer to the wall at his back. Crossing his legs one over the other, he sits upon it and watches you.
“What…you really think I’m gonna try to escape? With these cuffs?” You wiggle your elbows to indicate your wrists, which you couldn’t currently move. “Watch duty just seems a bit redundant at this point, don’t you think?”
“You’ve evaded capture from dozens of bounty hunters before.” He said, his smooth voice surprising you. His mask didn’t even have a modulator. Just…his voice. “We aren’t taking chances by getting cocky.”
“…” You suppose he’s right. Your record doesn’t leave much doubt that you’d try to escape at some point when no one is looking. You were just too tired right then and there to try. But…you’d think of something.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Over the course of the next two days, the masked man kept a silent watch over your cell. All stoic and manly, with his bulky arms. You had to admit, for a prison guard, he wasn’t bad to look at.
To fill the silence, you talked about anything and everything that came to mind, if only to pass the time by quicker and keep sane. Stories of your past heists, the close-calls you got into with the GG, and all manner of other things. It didn’t matter that he didn’t respond. He was a great sounding board, and other than the occasional grunt or sigh, he never talked back.
You had long given up on any chance of escape. Killer’s presence–he’d reluctantly disclosed his name after you pointed out that knowing it wasn’t going to make it any easier to escape your cell–made sure that any attempt to even look around in a suspicious manner was shot down immediately. It was irritating, and frustrating to never get a moment of privacy, but…in some weird way, it was nice to have a constant companion.
So on the third day, when you ran out of things to talk about and stayed quiet for over 20 minutes that morning, Killer shifted on his stool and cleared his throat a little.
“Nothing to say today, Y/N?”
“Nope.”
A long pause followed after that.
“You were so talkative for two days.” He mentioned vaguely, tone difficult to decipher. “Ran out of stories to tell?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.”
Yet another long pause. You got the feeling he was trying to go somewhere with this conversation, but clearly he didn’t know how to go about it.
“Thought a renowned thief like you would have more to tell.”
You opened your mouth to retort something back, but then stopped. The way he’d said it…something clicked.
“You like listening to me talk.” You say, an amused grin spreading your lips. “You like my stories, don’t you?”
“Tch.” His head shakes, mask finally looking away from you. “It…passes the time.”
“Hmm. So I’m better company then your own nakama up there? Hard to believe…”
“They aren’t nakama.” He admits, mask still directed down the hallway rather than at you. It was the first bit of personal information–other than his name, of course–that he’d disclosed to you.
“…” When he doesn’t say anything further, you ponder a response. “If they aren’t nakama, why are you with them?”
“Job’s a job.” He grunts. “Credits aren’t bad.”
“Bounty hunting’s a lucrative business, I suppose.” You aren’t sure what else to say to that. “Lot’s of people like me out there…”
“Hmm…”
You both grow quiet after that. Something lingers in the room between you two. Whatever feeling it is, you can’t put a name to, but there’s this strange sense of…familiarity that you think you’re beginning to develop.
Another minute or two passes, before you chuckle to yourself, grin returning as you spoke up. “Did I mention the time I had to wrestle a Sea King while escaping Galactic Government troopers?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Killer’s posture changed over the next day or two. No longer crossing his arms, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands propping up his mask when you recounted stories of your adventures stealing and running and gunning.
His silent treatment had also disappeared. The more you told him your stories, the more questions he began to ask, or witty comments or your particularly stupid decisions of the past. It surprised even you how easily he could make you laugh.
“What made you think you could outrun a Zoan wild boar?”
“I don’t know, ok? I’m pretty certain I had a mild concussion at the time, so don’t blame me.”
“You’ve got the worst judgement I’ve ever heard of.” He concluded, and you can’t help but laugh with mirth.
“I don’t want to hear it, bucket head. I may be the one in cuffs, but you’re-”
The ship lurched violently, throwing you to the opposite side of your cell. Killer’s mask bangs against the bars, but he recovers much quicker than you do.
“What’s happening?” You ask, looking up as if you’d be able to see past your cell’s ceiling. Warnings lights and an beeping alarm had begun to go off throughout the ship.
“Stay here.” Killer instructs, running off down the hallway. You make a face that he doesn’t see as he disappears.
“Where else am I supposed to go?” You call after him, thinking his words were pretty dumb. He didn’t respond, naturally.
You weren’t sure how much time passed, just waiting tensely in your cell. You could hear blaster fire and the sounds of a struggle above you. They’d been boarded. Who it was or what was happening was a complete mystery. With your hands cuffed behind you, if anyone happened to come down here, you’d be unable to defend yourself. Fuck.
The ship lurched again, followed by more blaster fire. And then…
Nothing. Quiet, save for more beeping from the ship’s indicators. Your breathing sounds so loud in the eerie silence, and you begin to wonder what you’re supposed to do if everyone’s been killed off.
The idea that Killer’s dead is…disheartening.
The sound of footsteps above makes you freeze. They’re slow, unhurried, until you hear the hydraulic door open with a hiss.
Killer stumbles his way in front of your cell, obviously injured. He sits on the stool without a word, letting out a tired sigh.
You stare at him, feeling a heaviness on his shoulders. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.
“The others are dead.” His tone is carefully neutral, intentionally so. “Another band of bounty hunters…looking for you.
"I’m…sorry.” You say. And you are. Not that they’re dead, but that he could possibly be grieving for someone he cared for. Despite the fact that they weren’t nakama, he had been with them awhile, from what you understood.
His mask nods slowly, in deep thought, until it levels to look at you. “I’m tired of this job…” He mutters.
You glance away before looking back at him. “I mean…I’ve heard the Galactic Government is recruiting-”
“Not them. They’re just as bad as the bounty hunters they sick onto the bounties I chase.” He says, glancing down at his hands as he pulls out a set of keys. “I want something that doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t. I want something honest.”
Your hope begins to rise as he stands from his stool, wandering over to the cell. You hear the mechanical click as the electric locks disengage, and the bars slide upwards into the ceiling.
“You’re…letting me go?” You ask as he moves you to turn, giving him access to your cuffed wrists.
“I’m asking for a job.” He surmises, and you feel the blessed freedom of your wrists being released from the cuffs. You rub at the skin as you stand up, watching him toss them onto the floor with a clatter.
“You want to be a thief? Like me?”
“You don’t apologize or lie about what you do. And you don’t kill needlessly.” He explains. “That’s enough for me, right now.”
The thought is appealing. Killer is obviously capable, given his survival today. Plus…you’d started growing lonely with all your ship stealing alone. A little help might be of some use to you.
“Well, then let’s get the hell out of here. I don’t like hanging around in Government space for too long. Makes my skin itch.” You tell him, giving a grateful and sympathetic smile.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
ns 15.158.61.48da2
