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Din awoke to the sound of voices. His heart rate picked up. He hadn’t been expecting any visitors. He turned his helmet toward the noise, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruders without letting them know he was awake.

The first thing he noticed was the four figures standing in a circle. They faced each other and conversed about a topic Din couldn’t make sense of.

Din sat up abruptly, drawing his blaster as he did. Something on his lap moved. Din didn’t have to look at it to know it was his kid.

“Don’t move,” Din ordered. Everyone was looking at him, now. Din got to his feet, leaving Grogu on the couch.

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn’t in his cabin at all. He was someplace new. As he scanned the room, he recognized a small window, a weapon rack beneath the said window, a hammock, and some sort of kitchen. The furniture he’d been asleep on was a couch. Outside the little window, hundreds of tiny dots were flying about frantically. Maybe it was a swarm of insects.

The third thing he noticed was that he was wearing his armor again. Everything except his jetpack.

One of the strangers stepped forward. To Din’s surprise, he was covered helmet down in beskar armor. All the strangers were.
“Howdy, stranger,” he greeted. He had a top hat balanced haphazardly on his helmet, along with a full-on suit beneath his armor. He kept his balance with a cane, but something told Din the stranger could walk just fine.
Din turned the blaster toward Top-hat.

“Well, hold your horses,” the stranger said, putting his free hand up in surrender.
“Who are you?” Din demanded. “You’ve got five seconds to answer.”

Another stranger–one with pink armor–elbowed the one with a camouflage undershirt. “Temper tantrum much?” he whispered.

“

Candy,”

Top-hat hissed. To Din, he said, “I’m sure this is confusing as all get out. Just give us a moment to enlighten you?”

“Answer the question,” Din pushed. His heart was racing. He felt like something bad happened–something before he woke up here–but he couldn’t remember what. Had these beskar wearers done something to him? They had obviously kidnapped him, but they weren’t acting like kidnappers. Too polite.

“We can explain,” the camouflaged stranger snapped, “but only if you put the bloody gun down.”

Din considered this for a second, then lowered his arm halfway.

Top-hat seemed happy with this. “Very good! Let’s start with introductions, shall we?”

He gestured toward another stranger, “That’s the Shanty-Lorian.”

Shanty nodded in response. He also had a hat on top of his helmet, but this one was black, leathery, and decorated with peacock feathers. This armor was unkempt and heavily rusted in most places. A cutlass hung from his belt. One of his hands had been replaced with a bronze hook.

Next, Top-hat motioned towards the pink one. “That’s the Candy-Lorian.”

Candy was the one with light pink armor. The garment underneath was an even darker shade of pink. There appeared to be several…

bite marks

in his beskar.

Top-hat pointed at the camouflaged one, “He’s the Propaganda-Lorian. But we just call him Prop.”

Prop’s armor was battered, littered with bullet holes, and charred in places. He was missing three fingers on one hand. His helmet had black war paint smeared beneath the cracked, T-shaped visor on both sides, though it had faded to a gray. He seemed ticked off, standing with his arms crossed as he stared Din down. Din stared back at him. He only looked away when Top-hat introduced himself.

“And I’m the Dandy-Lorian. But I much prefer Dandy. And you are?”

“I’m,” Din saw the pattern, so he replied, “the Mandalorian.”

“What’s that supposta mean?” Prop speculated.

“I think he’s sci-fi,” Candy chimed in.

Dandy’s helmet tilted, curious, as he looked at something on the floor.

“And who’s this?” he wondered.

Din followed Dandy’s gaze down to Grogu, who had hopped off the couch at some point. The kid peered out from behind his dad’s leg, his little claws grasping the fabric nervously. Din hesitated, but they’d already seen Grogu. What difference did it make if they knew his name?

“Oh,” Din took a tiny step away, granting the others a better view, “this is Grogu.”

Prop tilted his helmet. “What is he? Some sort of…gremlin?”

“He’s my kid,” Din disclosed, sounding the slightest bit offended. He didn’t know what a gremlin was, but he doubted Prop meant it as a compliment.

The Mandalorians, or just Lorians, all made hushed sounds of awe. Din wasn’t sure what they all found so impressive, but Grogu

did

have that effect on some people.

“It’s a miracle you still have yours!” Candy exclaimed, out of the blue.

Din looked over at him quickly. “Hm?”

“Oh, don’t mind Candy,” Dandy dismissed, “he can be a bit ugly sometimes. How about we show you ‘round?”

Dandy started to stroll past him, beginning the tour, but Din held up his hand and blocked him. Prop flinched when he did, but Din ignored him.

“Wait. What did he mean?”

“Well-” Dandy faltered. He turned to his companions, silently requesting backup.

“We’ve all had Grogus,” Shanty explained with a shrug, “Lost mine gambling.”

“Mine was my general,” Prop mumbled, though he sounded unsure if he wanted to share or not, “Base exploded.”

Prop went silent. Now he just stood there, staring at nothing.

“Well…how about him?” Din nodded at Candy. He chuckled as if he found the memory amusing.

“I ate mine.”

More silence.

“How about that tour?” Dandy suggested, changing the subject. This time, when Dandy passed by, Din didn’t hinder his progress. He scooped up his kid and followed along. He felt sort of dazed. Din didn’t know what to make of all this. He had so many questions.

How had he gotten here?

When

had he gotten here? If all the other Lorians had their own Grogus, what did that mean? Was it just a coincidence? Din’s hypotheses were cut short by Dandy’s voice.

“This here is the kitchen,” he pointed out. The kitchen consisted of a small dining table, with five seats and a high chair, a cooling chamber, and a couple of appliances on the counter. There was something familiar about one of the appliances, but his brain was too foggy to figure out what.

Dandy must’ve noticed him eyeing the appliance because he added, “That’s yours, by the way.”

It took Din a moment to process his words. “Mine?”

“Mm-hm. Every time someone new shows up here, a piece of furniture does, too. Yours is that coffee maker and those drawings on the…fridge.”

For the first time, Din noticed the hand-drawn pictures held up on the cooling chamber by magnets. He looked down at his kid, curious. Grogu drew an awful lot of pictures, but Din never hung them on their cooling chamber. He wasn’t really into that decorative stuff. Why were the drawings here instead of in a pile on Din’s bed stand, where he actually kept them?

“Aye. Mine is that hammock, there,” Shanty exemplified, “Used to have one just like it on me ship, the

Silver Dagger

.”

He stared at the hammock for a moment, then sighed and looked away.

Shanty’s old ship sounded a little like his own, Din thought. He remembered the day on Tython, two maybe three cycles ago, when he thought he’d lost Grogu for good. That was the same day the

Razor Crest

had been destroyed. Maybe Shanty’s ship had been destroyed, too.

“My thing is that peppermint jar,” Candy said, pointing towards a glass jar on the counter, “It’s my inventory…you’d be surprised by how sharp they get!”

“Mine is that weapon stand,” Prop explained, “it’s got all my favorites.”

“Mine is the chandelier. The same one hung in the ballroom where I first met my partner.” His gaze hung on the chandelier for a moment, then he turned back to Din. “Well, that concludes the tour.”

“What about those other rooms?” Din inquired. There were several open doorways that seemed to lead into different rooms. Surely the one they were standing in couldn’t be all there was?

“Those rooms are all empty,” Dandy answered casually, “except the powder room, which is down that way if you need it.”

“What about outside?”

“Nothin’ outside ‘cept static,” Prop replied.

“Static?”

With a shrug, Prop suggested, “Go see for yourself.”

Din followed Prop’s gaze to a door. It was a dark shade of magenta and seemed out of place against the dull white walls. Grogu in hand, he approached the door with faltering steps. He reached out to the handle, took hold, and twisted it. Grogu leaned forward to see.

Din didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Sure enough, there was nothing outside except a storm of flickering black and white specks. The static made a grating sound not unlike angry bees. It wormed into Din’s ears and made his head throb.

Experimentally, he took a step out the door. That turned out to be a bad move. His foot landed in air and he lost his balance. Grogu squeaked in alarm.

Someone grabbed each of his arms and pulled him back in. This turned out to be Prop and Dandy. Prop released him immediately and shut the door.

“Bad idea, mate,” he said. He sounded so casual.

Din glanced down at his arm. Dandy was still holding onto him. Dandy noticed him staring and let go.

Din looked back at the others sheepishly. He would’ve been embarrassed if he wasn’t so damn confused. “Is everywhere like that?”

“Pretty much,” Shanty clarified with a shrug.

“Then how do I leave?” Din wondered, desperosity leaking into his voice.

“You don’t,” Candy explained, “nobody does.”

“Well–surely

someone

has,” Dandy argued.

Din found himself tuning out of the conversation. Grogu glanced up at him, his face a mirror of Din’s concerns.

How were they going to get back home?

The thought brought a spike of panic. Din turned around abruptly and made a break for one of the open doorways.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dandy started after him. “I should–”
Prop set a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “No. Let him get it out of his system.”
“What if he gets lost?”
“If he’s not back in ten minutes,” Shanty chimed in, “Then I’ll go after him.”
“Alright,” Dandy submitted, disappointed.
Prop shrugged. “It happens to all of us. He’ll get used to it.”
He then made for the kitchen. “On the bright side, now we have coffee.”
“Ew,” Candy replied. But he followed Prop anyway. Candy wouldn’t eat a thing unless there was a possibility of it giving you diabetes. Perhaps that’s how he got his name.
Dandy looked back at the doorway Mando had just gone through. He felt…bad to say the very least. It was nice to have someone new around here, but at what cost? Now he was stuck. And so was his kid.
That was another thing. Why did he still have his? All of theirs were dead already. His would die eventually. The only question was when.
Dandy looked up at the chandelier and frowned deeper. Everything about this was unfair. Dandy just wanted to go home and see his husband again. By whose authority were they being detained?
“Matey?” Shanty inquired, “Wanna go check out that machine?”
Machines. There was none of that where Dandy came from. No lightbulbs, just candles. No microwaves, just fire stoves. And that was the same for Shanty.
“Sure,” Dandy agreed, “Maybe Prop can explain it to us.”
“And maybe this time it’ll stick.”
Dandy chuckled and they both headed over. Shanty had been sort of quiet that day. He probably had the same concerns as Dandy.
Dandy hated being trapped here, but, boy, he loved the people he was trapped here with. Prop was pretty rough, but he could be a really sweet guy if you got to know him. Shanty was a little closed off, but he was clever and a good planner. Candy was…well, Candy was Candy. He could be a little…colorful, but he was friendly. Honest.
It had been a while since Dandy was able to call someone his friend. They didn’t have much of a choice, though, did they? They sort of had to be friends, because, if they weren’t, being here would just be more miserable. Dandy often wondered if they’d still be pals under different circumstances.
Prop had been explaining how to work the new machine when Dandy got fidgety again. He didn’t like being separated from their newbie. This was a lot to take in. Mando shouldn’t have to process everything on his own.
“It’s been a while,” he pointed out, tightening his grip on the cane.
“I’ll get going,” Shanty offered.
“We’ll stay here in case he comes back,” Prop added.
“Sounds like a plan,” Shanty said. Dandy watched as he disappeared behind the doorway.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Shanty walked along the crowded streets of Thythoon. He tied his ship up maybe an hour ago and already wished he could go back. The midafternoon air was humid and felt sticky to breathe in. The marketplace was bustling. He could barely take a step without bumping shoulders with someone.

He

hated

crowds. Correction, he hated people. Most people. There were a few exceptions, with emphasis on ‘a few.’

Once again, he would’ve loved to return to the privacy of his ship, but they were out of supplies. That was fine with Shanty. He could’ve waited a day or two until they arrived at some smaller, less-populated island, but Gulliver couldn’t.

Good ole’ Gulliver. He was a special little lad, a green macaw with tail feathers resembling a peacock’s. Whenever he lost one, Shanty would use it to decorate his hat. He was normally a quiet fellow, but not when he was hungry. That’s why they needed to stop here.

Shanty stepped to a stall. This one was selling a variety of products, including grain. Shanty picked up a bag.

“How much?” he inquired. Normally he’d just steal it, but that only worked on backwater islands. This one had too many officers. It wasn’t like he could speed through this crowd anyway.

The vendor glanced over at him. Shanty hoped he wouldn’t be recognized as a Shanty-Lorian. The name was intentionally misleading. Folks like him did more plundering than singing. It had to be odd, seeing a pirate casually shopping at a market.

“Five doubloons,” the vendor replied.

“For

this?”

Shanty objected, “It’s only one bag, matey.”

The vendor snorted. Shanty felt a prickle of frustration.

“What? What’s the joke?”

“Broke pirates,” the vendor muttered, “Didn’t know there was such a thing.”

Shanty felt his hand going for his cutlass. He’d show this lousy–

Gulliver squawked from his perch on Shanty’s shoulder. Shanty let his hand drop. The bird had a point. He should be keeping his head down, not stabbing someone over grain. He dropped the bag and walked away.

Maybe he could check the poorer part of town. Prices would be lower there. And if they weren’t, there’d be less officers.

It didn’t take long to find a shadier neighborhood. He passed by a person sleeping on the ground. He might’ve been dead, judging by all those flies, but it was all the same to Shanty. His boots crunched over broken glass. A child’s eyes followed him from the cracks in a boarded-up window. Shanty stared right back at him, then tripped on a pothole and cursed. The kid giggled and disappeared.
Shanty scowled at the window. Bilge rat.

He continued on. A stranger hobbled past him, mumbling to himself. He was either very sick or very high.

The building’s door to his right crashed open suddenly. Shandy took a step back as two men threw another outside. He crashed onto the ground and spat out a wad of bloody saliva. His nose was crooked and his sweater sleeve had a wide tear.

The two men looked up and glared at Shanty.

“You play?” one of them asked.

Gambling! Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

“Aye,” Shanty answered with a nod.

The two men turned and headed back into the building.

“Shut the door on yer way in,” one of them said.

Once they were gone, Gulliver squawked scoldingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shanty grumbled, “This’ll be the last time.”

Shanty had to admit…he had a gambling problem. Used to, anyway. He’d quit a month or so after he found Gulliver. He’d completely blown his paycheck a couple times and his bird hardly ate that month. After that, Shanty vowed he’d be a better caretaker.

Gulliver eyed him as he headed into the building. A staircase led underground. Torches bolted to the walls sent a warm, flickering light across the stairs.

Shanty closed the door and headed down. The deeper he went, the greater the smell of mildew grew.

He stepped off the last stair and found himself in a fairly spacious basement. It was muggy down here. Heat and poor ventilation really didn’t mix. There was a small bar against the far wall, with a counter piled high with wooden pints. There were four barrels of rum behind the counter. The rest of the room had round tables, where groups of gamblers sat with their noses buried in cards.

“Hey, Shanty,” one of the gamblers called.

Shanty glanced him, but didn’t say anything.

“We’ve got an open seat, if you’re interested.”

His table only had two seats. A one-on-one type of game. A group of observers sat behind the man’s chair. They were the type of people who liked gambling for the drama, rather than the possibility of a payout.

Shanty sat down without another word. He could guess why they wanted him to join. Shanty-lorians, being pirates, had a reputation for being wealthy. In this Shanty’s case, the stereotype was broken.

“Nice parrot you got there,” the man who’d called him over complimented.

“Thanks,” Shanty mumbled.

“The name’s Karga,” the gambler said, “Yours?”

“Shanty’ll do just fine.”

A few of the observers snorted.

“Alright, Shanty. How much you puttin’ up?”

Shanty reached into his belt and set two doubloons on the table.

“Only two?” Karga scoffed, “You’re gonna have to go higher than that.”

Shanty put one more down. A few of the observers snickered.

“Playing it safe, huh?” Karga asked, “Alright.”

He put three down as well. After nearly an hour of playing, Karga drew a new card. A small smile grew on his lips and he set it on the table. Shanty scowled down at the card as the observers cheered.

Karga chuckled and reached across the table. “I’ll be taking those, thank you.”

For a moment, Shanty considered just taking the money and running, but then he remembered the poor soul who’d been kicked out earlier. The guards were still waiting by the door, watching over the basement like gargoyles. They, too, had cutlasses hanging from their belts.

Karga stood up. “Well, it’s been fun playing, but I’d best be getting home.”

The observers made sounds of disappointment. So did Gulliver. Shanty felt a pang of despair. He couldn’t let his bird go hungry again. He’d sworn.

Shanty stood up so suddenly Karga froze.

“Wait,” he paused, “One more round?”

“Not unless you put up something bigger.”

“Alright,” Shanty replied, talking fast, “How’s ten–

thirty

doubloons sound?”

Gulliver squawked angrily. They both knew Shanty didn’t have that much. Two doubloons sounded more accurate.

“That sounds…,” Karga sat down, “Like you’ve got yourself another game.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Din found himself in another room. This one had two doorways, one straight ahead and one to the right. Din took the first one. There

had

to be a way out of here. They couldn’t just be floating in the middle of nothing. The next room only had one door. The room after that had three. That was when he stopped counting
Doorways and walls passed by in a blur. Each room he went through spiked his nerves. There had to be a way out, there had to be a way out, there–

Grogu squeaked, snapping Din out of his thoughts. He slowed to a stop and looked down at his kid. Grogu blinked up at him. He looked worried. Din felt a flash of…something. Guilt, maybe. Somehow this was his fault, wasn’t it? They were stuck here because of something he did. Something…

he

did? That didn’t sound right…

Anyhoo, Din swallowed. He started through the doorways again, this time at a brisk walk.

“Don’t worry,” he promised his kid, “I’ll get us out of here.”

Din went through one more doorway before he stopped. He was back in the main room. Everyone was in the kitchen.

“So you put the grounds in this bit…,” Prop explained. He appeared to be teaching the others how to use the caf machine.

“Oh, Mando’s back!” Candy waved at him, “Hi, Mando!”

Din took a moment to catch his breath before asking, “Why–”

“We don’t know,” Prop interrupted.

Din stared at him for a moment, digesting the words. Then he walked away. Now beside the dining table, Din pulled out a chair and set his kid on the high one. He and his kid had been doing so well before being brought here. They had a house now. A

house

. The thought of living here instead of in their cabin made him feel sick. What sort of future could he give his kid

here

? Not a good one, that was for sure.

Dandy and Prop glanced at each other. Prop nodded at Dandy. He strolled over, his cane tapping against the concrete, and took the chair across from Din.

“How do I get out?” Din asked, displeased with how choked his voice sounded.

Dandy hesitated.

“If there was…any way out, we certainly would’ve done it by now,” his voice dropped, “I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Din mumbled. Even though it wasn’t. He had no idea what to believe, but he was more inclined to think the other Lorians weren’t to blame for his imprisonment. He preferred to believe it was the work of someone else. That way he could see these Lorians as allies, but that was wishful thinking. There were very few people he trusted, and these doppelgangers weren’t on the list. But at least

someone

on that list was present.

Din looked over at the highchair next to him, expecting to see Grogu looking right back. Instead, the high chair was empty. He stood up, his own chair scraping against the perma-crete floor.

From his spot, Din examined the room.

“Where’s-,” he cut himself off. No need to finish his question when it had already been answered. Grogu had climbed up onto Candy’s shoulder and was chewing on his pauldron. Candy had gone to stand in front of one of the open doorways. Din hurried over, preparing to snatch his kid before he had the chance to escape.

“Grogu–stop it,” Din scolded. Candy’s helmet snapped in Grogu’s direction as if he were just now noticing him.

Candy laughed. “Oh, it’s okay! Mine used to do it all the time!” his voice suddenly went dark, “so I decided to return the favor.”

Din stood petrified for a moment, then he plucked his kid off the pink Lorian’s shoulder. Slowly, he stepped backward until he felt they were at a safe distance.

“Oi!” Prop hollered from the other side of the room, “Stop freakin’ out the new guy!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Candy shouted back.

Din ignored them and checked on Grogu. The kid met his dad’s gaze with a disappointed frown.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Grogu whimpered, and Din took that as a yes.

To the other Lorians, he asked, “Got anything to eat around here?”

Prop picked up the peppermint jar and brought it over. “We got these.”

“Hey–” Candy began to object.

Prop held up a finger. “The baby’s hungry.”

Grogu grasped a peppermint in both hands and studied it thoroughly before giving it a lick. He made a squeak of approval and continued to enjoy his treat.

“Thanks,” Din said slowly. Prop nodded briefly and brought the jar back to the kitchen.

“So you put the coffee grounds in…here?” Dandy inquired when Prop returned.

Prop glanced at the machine. “Dandy?”

“Yes?”

“You’re hopeless.”

Din placed his kid on the dining table and sat down next to him, allowing himself a moment of calm as he watched his kid feast. It was a sight that would have been considered gross to anyone else, but not to him. Din enjoyed watching his kid do just about anything, including eating a snack similar to how a wampa would devour its prey.

Din looked up and examined the room.

Dandy and Prop were playfully arguing over the caf machine. Someone had pulled down the curtains in front of the window, perhaps to cover the static. Grogu was already finished with his candy. When his dad looked at him, Grogu pointed at the peppermint jar.

“Just one,” Din told him. And then he continued to survey the room, ignoring the child’s protests. Everything seemed as normal as this situation could allow, except for one thing.

Shanty was missing.

And Candy was just…staring at one of the open doorways. Two things.

“Where’s Shanty?” Din wondered, dragging his attention away from Candy.

“We sent him to look for you,” Dandy replied. He thought for a moment. “It

has

been a minute, though, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Prop agreed, “We might wanna check on him.”

“You don’t think

he

got lost, do you?” Dandy asked jokingly.

Prop scoffed. “Guess we’ll see.”

Suddenly, a scream tore through the air. It was short and cut off quickly.

Din got out of his seat. Grogu reached toward him, but Din shook his head. He was staying right there. Grogu lowered his arms, a disaproving look on his face.

“What in the bloody hell was that?” Prop muttered.

“I don’t…,” Dandy trailed off mid-sentence. His helmet rotated as he scanned the main room. His gaze seemed to land on something behind Din. When he spoke again, he sounded startled. “Where’s Candy?”

“

Fuck,”

Prop grumbled, storming out of the kitchen. He went over to his weapons rack and grabbed a rifle.

“Why are you getting a–” Dandy speculated.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry, mate,” Prop interrupted.

Prop headed to one of the three doorways. Both Din and Dandy hurried after him.

“We’ll split up,” Prop ordered, “If you find anything, yell.”

Din and Dandy nodded. They each chose a doorway and set off.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

For some reason, Candy couldn’t take his eyes off the empty doorway. There was something he wanted in there, but he couldn’t remember what. He couldn’t remember much of anything, actually.

He remembered eating dinner, then waking up here.

There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. Suddenly, Mando was beside him.

“Grogu,” he snapped, “stop it.”

Candy looked down at his shoulder. Oh, funny! Grogu was biting his pauldron. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

Candy laughed.

“Oh, it’s okay! Mine used to do it all the time.” Candy suddenly didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “So I decided to return the favor.”

Candy frowned. Was that true? Candy ate him, but it wasn’t for that reason. So which reason was it?

Mando stared at him momentarily, then took the kid off his shoulder and stepped away. That was fair.

“Oi!” Prop yelled, “Stop freakin’ out the new guy!”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Candy called back. He wasn’t mad, though. He liked Prop. He liked Dandy and Shanty, too, but he was different. More grumpy than the others. More…troubled.

“Got any food around here?” Mando asked, getting back on topic.

Prop picked up the peppermint jar and began unscrewing the lid. “We got these.”

“Hey–” Candy objected. Those were

his

thing! He doubted he’d ever need to use them again, but he liked having them. They were…familiar. Nothing else was.

Prop held up a finger. “The baby’s hungry.”

Candy looked back at the doorway. He didn’t need every candy cane. After all, there was a whole jar of them.

He knew that, if he went through that door, something would happen.

Candy didn't know

how

he knew it, he just did. It was so obvious! Like someone was whispering it right into his ear.

Anyhoo, he started walking toward the doorway.

He didn’t know what happened back then but knew what would happen now. He welcomed it. A drop of clarity among the endless sea of uncertainty.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Din passed by the fresher’s door and into another room, anxiety churning in his stomach.

He didn’t know what they’d find. Candy had certainly been acting odd earlier. Had he done something to Shanty? Maybe splitting up hadn’t been such a good idea…

Din went through one more doorway before there was a change. When he lifted his foot to take a step, he felt resistance. A red, syrupy substance stuck to the bottom of his boot. It was too bright to be blood. Probably.

Din looked up. The good news was that he’d found the missing Lorians. The bad news was that one was dead.

Shanty stood over Candy’s lifeless body, facing away from Din. Candy’s head was, well, gone. Just a pile of syrup, gore, and beskar fragments. What the…?

Without looking back at him, Shanty acknowledged, “I was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

“What did you do?” Din asked grimly.

“What I had to,” Shanty flexed his hand. There was that pink, syrupy stuff all over his glove. His boots, too.

Din didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure how to.

“I don’t know if ye noticed, but everyone here has lost theirs,” Shanty informed harshly. His voice was low. Rigid. Like the rust on his helmet. “Everyone except ye

.

”

Without warning, Shanty spun around. He had something in his normal hand. Though he only saw it for a split second, Din recognized it as the cutlass.

Shanty charged, holding the sword over his head. Surprised, Din stepped to the side. The cutlass lodged itself into the ground mere seconds later, causing a network of cracks in the perma-crete. Shanty struggled to pry his weapon from the gap.

Din drew his blaster just as the other Lorian freed his cutlass. Shanty was

fast.

The blade came up before Din could react. The cutlass hit his blaster, forcing it out of his hand.

Din reacted quickly. He grabbed his vibroblade from his boot and threw it at Shanty. Shanty staggered back, dropping the cutlass. His hand went to his stomach, and, for a second, Din thought he won. But then Shanty straightened. He’d caught it.

Shanty attacked again, swiping the vibroblade over and over. Din backed away. He put his arms up so the gauntlets would protect him, but doing so made it impossible for him to use the flamethrower.

His back hit something solid. The wall. No more dodging for him.

Shanty threw a punch. Din shifted, and his hook hand hit the wall beside his head. The punch turned out to be a distraction.

While Din was focused on the hook hand, Shanty used his good hand to drive the knife into the space above Din’s collarbone.

Din cried out and tried to push him off, but it was no use. Shanty leaned in until the blade was buried up to the handle. He could feel the blood, running down his chest and soaking into his shirt.

“Why are you doing this?” Din asked, fighting to keep the strain out of his voice.

“Everything went wrong after he died,” Shanty muttered, more to himself than Din, “But I can make it right.”

Din could see Candy out of the corner of his eye. Is that how he’d look when Shanty was done with him?

Suddenly, Shanty let him go. Din fell to his hands and knees. For a moment, he just sat there, catching his breath and wondering why Shanty changed his mind.

He looked up. Not only that, but Shanty had left. Both him and his cutlass were gone.

Din shifted into a sitting position and checked on his shoulder. He wrapped his hand around the knife’s handle and wrenched it out. There was a wet sound as the blade came free. Sharp, stabbing pain came from the cut–the sort of pain that made you feel nauseous. Din shut his eyes and set his jaw until it calmed down.

When he opened his eyes again, something moved in the doorway in front of him.

Prop.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Prop couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Candy was on the ground. It didn’t take much to know he was dead. Anyone with half a brain could see it–pun not intended.
What’s-his-face began to stand up. Fuck. He had a knife. Prop raised the rifle. All their names blurred together after a while.

“I know this…looks bad,” Mando–oh, that’s right–said. He let go of the knife. The blade was painted red, all the way up to the handle.

“Yeah, you think?” Prop replied. His heart was pounding out of his chest.

What. The. Hell?

Mando took a sharp breath. “Prop–”

“Put your hands up,” Prop interrupted.

“I–”

“Put ‘em up!” Prop spat. Mando did as he was told.

Prop was still staring at Candy. Jesus Christ. His head looked like a frickin’ pumpkin after Halloween.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Prop muttered, “Fucking psycho.”

“It wasn’t me,” Mando insisted.

“Yeah, sure,” Prop replied sarcastically, “Must’ve ripped his own fucking head off.”

“Look at my shoulder,” Mando pleaded, “Shanty–”

Prop aimed at the floor and pulled the trigger, cutting him off. The bullet landed just beside Mando’s foot, leaving a smoking hole in the concrete.

He didn’t want to hear whatever flimsy excuse Mando had, especially if he was trying to frame one of Prop’s mates.

Prop paused and thought for a moment. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but if he went soft now, he’d be putting the others at risk. He couldn’t lose his team. Not again. After that explosion, well, the enemy wasn’t quite done with them. Prop remembered it vividly. The sudden sound of machine gun fire…watching more and more soldiers fall…

He might as well get it done before Dandy sees anything. Shanty could handle gore. Dandy, on the other hand…

“Alright, mate,” Prop said solemnly, “Where do you want the bullet?”

Mando shook his head slowly. “My kid…”

Prop brought the rifle up so he could look through the scope. It had been a while since he used one of these things. He had learned how to use his left hand to fire, so he could use his right hand to hold the gun. His right hand was the one that only had two fingers. It had been mangled in the explosion.

“We’ll watch him,” Prop promised. He had no sympathy for Mando whatsoever. It was better this way. Grogu didn’t need a killer for a parent.

Mando seemed indecisive, torn between staying still or taking action. It didn’t matter what he did. Prop would shoot either way.

He looked through the scope and shifted the rifle until the target was on Mando’s helmet. If he shot the visor, the bullet would go right through.

Sorry mate,

he thought as he pulled the trigger.

Something crashed into Mando, but it wasn’t a bullet. He hit the ground hard. His head struck the concrete and he went slack.

Prop lowered the rifle.

Dandy. Dandy had pushed him out of the way.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Dandy might’ve tackled Mando a little too hard because now he wasn’t moving. His shoulder was bleeding, too. Dandy hadn’t done that, had he?

It was probably better than the alternative, though. Dandy sat up.

“Prop,” he asked, horrified, “What on Earth are you–?”

“He killed Candy,” Prop explained.

“No, he didn’t…,” Dandy noticed something on the ground beside them. Something pink. His eyes landed on the helmet. What was left of it, anyway.

Dandy scrambled away, sickened.

“Mando…,” he faltered, “did

that?”

Prop nodded. His eyes were on the ground. Dandy thought they were, at least.

“What do we…,” Dandy took a shaky breath, “What do we do?”

“We do

your

plan, Prop,” a new voice said.

Dandy twisted his neck back to see. Shanty stood in one of the doorways. How long had he been watching?

Dandy looked down at Mando. His chest rose and fell. They were talking about killing him, weren’t they?

“Dandy?” Prop asked haltingly, “Are you alright?”

Dandy looked at Candy. His chest was still. This felt nightmarish. One minute they were talking about coffee, the next…

Did Mando actually do this? Had the realization of being trapped here made him go nuts or something?

Dandy didn’t truly know Mando, did he? He’d only been here for about an hour. Maybe he was just a psychopath. But what if he wasn’t? What if he had a valid reason for murdering Candy?

Either way, Dandy didn’t want him to die. He didn’t want anyone to die. Killing someone was just so…barbaric. In Dandy’s opinion, it didn’t matter what that person did. No one deserved to have their own existence stripped away.

“I’m alright. I’d…,” Dandy swallowed, “I don’t think we should kill him, though. Not before we know why he did it.”

Shanty began to speak, but Prop interrupted him.

“We can do that. Tie him up, maybe. Ask some questions.” He turned to Shanty. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing,” Shanty replied, “Maybe grab his revolver.”

“What for?” Prop inquired.

“Just so we know where it is.”

Shanty left to find something they could use for rope, and Prop began to follow him. When Dandy didn’t do the same, he asked, “You coming?”

“In a moment,” Dandy mumbled.

Prop eyed him for a moment, then came back and sat next to him.

Dandy looked back at Candy and felt a flash of despair. He hugged his knees to his chest, emotion squeezing his throat shut. Choking him.

Prop set a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out, mate,” he promised.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

When Din came to, he found himself seated upright. He tried to move his hands, but they only made it a little ways before getting caught on something. He tried his legs, too, and had the same problem. Din had been tethered to one of the chairs from the kitchen. Prop, Dandy, and Shanty stood before him, though Shanty was slightly behind the two. Parts of his glove were a darker shade than Din remembered. The same thing went for his boots.

He washed off

, Din realized. Prop had his headlamp trained on Din, interrogation style.

Dandy cleared his throat.

“We’d like to ask you some questions,” he requested.

Din disregarded his statement and examined the room groggily. He had a splitting headache. “Where’s…”

“Your kid’s right next to you,” Dandy disclosed, giving a curt nod in the kid’s direction.

Din looked over to where Dandy had gestured and there he was, tied to his own chair.

“Did you tie him up too?” Din wondered.

Prop shrugged. “He kept tryna undo your zip ties.”

Grogu squeaked proudly.

“You good?” Din asked him, keeping his voice a bit lower.

Grogu nodded, somewhat enthusiastically. He didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. That was good. It meant Shanty hadn’t tried anything.

“Alright, question one.” Dandy paused. “Uh…”

“You don’t have one, do you?” Prop chaffed.

“I am trying my best,” Dandy responded, exasperated.

“Whatever.” Prop shifted his attention back to Din. “Why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t,” Din insisted, “It was Shanty.”

“Oh, yeah?” Prop countered, “Tell that to the literal blood on your hands.”

Din twisted his head back to see his hands. It wasn’t Candy’s blood. Din hadn’t touched him. So it must’ve been the blood from his cut.

“It’s mine,” Din insisted.

Prop scoffed and shook his head. Din turned to Dandy.

“You too?” he pleaded.

Dandy hesitated.

“I’m…sorry, Mando, but Shanty hasn’t got a reason to hurt Candy.”

“He wants my kid,” Din disclosed.

Grogu tilted his head curiously when he was brought into the conversation. Shanty hadn’t said anything the entire time. He still wore his helmet, but Din could tell his expression was nothing short of murderous. Neither Dandy nor Prop said anything, which Din assumed was an invitation to continue.

“He said things went wrong after his was taken. That things would be right when he took mine,” Din informed, talking fast, “I’m not sure what it had to do with Candy, but…”

Shanty’s hand went for his belt. Neither Dandy nor Prop noticed. Neither of them seemed convinced, either.

Before Din could warn them, Shanty lunged. He grabbed Dandy by the shoulder, spun him around, and, suddenly, Dandy was in a chokehold. Shanty brought the cutlass up to his throat, and Dandy froze.

“Let him go!” Prop demanded, aiming the rifle.

Shanty ignored him and began to drag the blade across Dandy’s neck. Dandy didn’t say anything. He was staring at Din and trembling. Din stopped struggling. What should he do? What

could

he do? He considered telling Grogu to look away.

Prop fired several times. The bullets made metallic

clinks

as they ricocheted off Shanty’s armor. Suddenly, he shifted so Dandy was in front. Dandy hissed and a few drops of blood appeared on the ground. Luckily, the bullet had only grazed his arm.

Prop held fire, horrified.

“I’ll cut you a deal,” Shanty said. To Din’s surprise, he lowered the cutlass. “Shoot.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Prop spat, though Din could detect a tremor in his voice.

“He dies either way,” Shanty replied, “A bullet would be a little faster.”

“Why?” Prop asked simply.

“Can’t say no to a good game,” Shanty said with a shrug, “So, Prop. What’s yer play?”

“I…” Prop trailed off and shook his head. “Can’t.”

“Alright,” Shanty lifted the cutlass again, “Slow end, it is.”

Dandy grabbed Shanty’s wrists and tried to pry him off, but it was hopeless.

“No!” Prop objected. He pointed the rifle again. The muzzle was quivering.

Din turned to his kid, heart pounding in his ears.

“Don’t look,” he whispered, wishing he could cover the kid’s eyes himself.

Grogu shut his eyes tight.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Prop said to Dandy, voice shaking.

Prop looked away just as he pulled the trigger. Both Dandy and Din flinched, although…nothing happened

.

The gun made a clicking noise that could only mean one thing. The rifle was out. How convenient.

Shanty’s cutlass was still down. Dandy took the opportunity. He threw his weight back. Shanty staggered and swiped the cutlass, but Dandy was already out of reach.

Prop lunged and swung the empty rifle. It hit Shanty in the helmet. Shanty took several steps back, trying to put some space in between him and Prop. Prop followed him, though, and kept swinging the rifle.

Dandy appeared beside Din’s chair.

“Sorry about all that,” he apologized.

“It’s fine,” Din urged, “Let me out.”

There was a yelp and they both looked up. Prop had lost his gun. He was on the ground, blood streaming from a gash in his leg.

“Prop!” Dandy gasped.

“The ties,” Din reminded him.

Dandy crouched down behind the chair, where Din’s hands had been tied uncomfortably behind his back.

“I’ve never seen these before,” Dandy admitted, sounding embarrassed.

“There’s a vibroblade in my boot,” Din replied, fighting the urge to snap at him.

Dandy hastily retrieved the knife and began to slice through the plastic. His hands were free in seconds. He undid the ones on his ankles and stood up, letting the zip ties fall to the floor.

“I’ll help Prop,” Din decided, “You get the kid.”

Dandy nodded. Din went for his blaster, then remembered it was still in the other room. There was no time to get it now, though. He bolted over to Shanty, gaining speed as he went. Shanty raised the cutlass high and Prop’s arm leapt up to shield himself. He was halfway through some one-liner when Din skidded to a stop, reared back, and kicked the pirate clean in the hip. The impact sent Shanty tumbling away.

Without taking his eyes off Shanty, Din inquired, “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Go grab a weapon.”

Prop got up and left without another word.

Shanty chuckled–a dry and disconcerting sound that hardly portrayed humor. Din wondered what was going through the Lorian’s head. Was he enjoying this? Was this somehow fun?

“Ready for round two?” Shanty speculated.

“You tell me,” Din grumbled.

For a moment the two stood across from each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Or, in the given situation, a cutlass.

As Din anticipated, Shanty was the first to strike. He surged forward, holding the cutlass at his waist. Din could guess his move easily. He was going for the gut. Shanty was a beskar wearer as well. Of course, he’d know all the weak points.

Din imitated Shanty and charged, drawing his vibroblade before taking off. Though, the blade was only a trick. Din had no intention of using it. At the last second, Din tossed himself to the floor, one leg outstretched. A slide tackle. Din’s boot collided with Shanty’s shin, and the pirate fell awkwardly. Din rolled to his feet, and his eyes landed on Shanty. He had dropped his cutlass and was reaching for it. Din kicked it away.

When Din looked back down at his adversary, his gaze was not met. Shanty was staring at something else—the dining table.

His blaster was on it. Shoot. So it

wasn’t

in the other room.

Shanty gave Din a look, then took off. Din went after him, but Shanty was way ahead. He skidded to a stop, spun around, and Din found himself staring into the business end of a blaster. He stopped. Shanty’s side was to the couch and the chair Din had been tied up in. He wondered if Grogu was watching them. After a moment of hesitation, Din slowly raised his arms.

Shanty scoffed at this. “Save it. I’m gonna shoot anyway.”

“That’s not why I’m raising ‘em,” Din mumbled.

“Then why?”

Din titled his head. “To distract you.”

A split second later, a flat

bang

rang out through the house. The bullet struck the side of Shanty’s helmet. The shot was enough to throw the pirate off balance, as it hadn’t come from a small firearm. Something with more power, like a rifle. He fell, bumping into the table on his way down. The blaster fell from his hands and landed at Din’s feet. Din grabbed it and tucked it into its holster.

As he expected, Dandy had his cane raised in one hand and Grogu in the other. Smoke drifted from a hole in the cane’s end. Din wasn’t sure what took him so long. Working up the nerve, maybe.

Prop was still by his weapon rack, watching Dandy with surprise. He hadn’t known Dandy’s cane was secretly a rifle. Then again, Dandy probably never needed to use it until now. Prop recovered quickly, then limped over. He pulled Shanty to his feet and forced his hands behind his back, detaining him.

“What was the holdup?” Din muttered to the Lorian beside him. Prop was still empty-handed. He’d never grabbed a rifle.

“All my guns were empty,” Prop replied, “the prick took all my ammo.”

That must’ve happened when Shanty left Din alone, and he’d been trying to convince Prop not to shoot him.

Shanty was silent.

“Are you both alright?” Dandy checked. Din glanced at Prop, who nodded in response.

“Yeah,” Din replied, “but we’re not done.”

“Damn right, we’re not,” Shanty muttered.

Shanty kicked backward. He hit Prop’s leg, right on his cut, and took off as Prop crumbled.

Din’s hand went up by instinct, blaster aimed at Shanty and forefinger braced above the trigger. Before he could shoot, Shanty spun around and grabbed him by the wrist. He bent it back painfully. Din’s grip on the blaster loosened against his will, and the weapon fell from his hand.

For a single, fleeting second, the room changed. Shanty was no longer the one he was fighting. He had transformed into something else—something unfamiliar. The room behind it was nothing but static.

The figure’s arm went up. Light reflected off a weapon in their hand. Only it wasn’t

in

their hand, it

was

their hand. One of their hands, anyway.

The hook crashed into the side of Din’s helmet. The strike seemed to knock something loose in his head because now Shanty and the rest of the room had returned. The hit forced his head to the side. Din caught himself on the dining table, dizziness cascading through him. What was

that?

Someone took the back of his helmet and shoved him down. He hit the table face-first and his old headache flared. Shanty wasn’t done there. He lifted Din back up and pushed him again. And again. And again.

Shanty lifted him once more, but, instead of repeating the pattern, he dropped him. Din landed on his side. He curled in on himself. His helmet felt heavier. So did his limbs. There was a slight ringing in his ears. If his headache was bad before, then it was

atrocious

now.

When Din looked up, he found Shanty staring back at him. Without another word, he raised the hook.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The hook came down, and Din instinctively turned his helmet in the other direction. He knew the first hit wouldn’t kill him. Nor would the second, or the third.

Thankfully, Din didn’t make it to any of those hits. After waiting a few seconds too long, Din checked and learned that Dandy had jumped in front. He’d used his cane to deflect the attack. Dandy now held the weapon ahead of himself like a sword. The end of the cane–the muzzle–was just a millimeter away from Shanty’s breastplate. A shot from that kind of range would slice through the beskar like paper.

“Shanty, stop!” Dandy begged. “This has gone on long enough!”

Shanty spoke next. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. Ye would do the same.”

They were right in front of him, but both Dandy and Shanty’s voices sounded muffled to Din’s ears.

“

I

wouldn’t take someone else’s!” Dandy argued. “And I wouldn’t kill Candy either!”

“So sure about that, are we? Correct me if I’m mistaken, but ye seem to have no problem killing

me,”

Shanty pointed out.

“I haven’t killed you,” his voice took on a pleading tone, “Please don’t make me.”

“Tell me, Dandy, do you miss yers?”

Dandy’s grip on the cane loosened, and the muzzle dipped ever so slightly.

“Of course, I do,” he replied stiffly.

With his regular hand, Shanty grabbed the cane and drove the other end of it into Dandy’s stomach. He then wretched it out of Dandy’s grasp and swung it so the handle struck the other Lorian’s helmet. There was a loud

thud

when the weapon hit him. The impact threw Dandy off his feet. Dandy tried to rise back up, but Shanty struck him again, and he went back down.

Din blinked. Maker, what was he doing?

He got to his feet, though he was sort of wobbly, and went for the cane. Din took hold of the weapon just before Dandy got hit again. He and Shanty tussled for it. Din managed to twist the cane out of Shanty’s grasp.

Dandy lay on the floor behind him, facing away.

“Dandy?” Din asked, keeping an eye on Shanty, “You good?”

He didn’t respond.

Wait a minute…

Hadn’t Dandy been watching Grogu?

As if on cue, a little green figure peeked out from behind one of the open doorways. Din yelled at the kid to run, but it was too late. Shanty had already seen him. Din fired the cane, but he wasn’t used to this weapon and he missed. Shanty didn’t so much as flinch when a bullet hit the ground ahead of him. Grogu saw the pirate coming and made a break for it, but it was hopeless. Within the next minute, the pirate reappeared from inside the empty room, clasping the collar of Grogu’s shirt. Grogu’s eyes landed on Din and he squeaked feebly. The sight filled Din with both anger and fear, a bitter bile that clung to the back of his throat.

“You can’t have him,” Din barked. His voice sounded too loud. He wished Dandy would wake up and help him. Shanty was ruthless. Din didn’t know if he could beat him on his own, and he was too scared to shoot again. What if he used the kid like a shield, just as he’d done to Dandy?

“I know,” Shanty snapped back, “but I figured…”

The Lorian’s hand–the hook hand–rose.

“...that if no one else can have one…” he continued.

He brought the hook level with his other hand, right below Grogu’s chin.

“...then why should ye?”

Shanty’s words felt like a cold punch to the stomach. The realization of his intentions awakened something within him. A memory, maybe. Static seemed to fill his vision. It cleared every few seconds, showing him not the room he was in but a fragment of the past.

Blue, flickering flames

Din couldn’t see, but he could feel air rushing over him. That was strange. There was no wind indoors, or outdoors for that matter. Not here.

The static cleared again.

Water as salty as an ocean

Din heard a

thunk.

He felt pressure on his fist as it crashed into something hard. The floor beneath him moved. It

was

floor, right?

A little vial of red powder

He felt the pressure again. but, just like everything else, it was muffled.

Knowing something had to change…

Senses, his own thoughts…everything. Muted.

…but not knowing what

Anyhoo, two people took hold of his arms again. The static left his brain and went back outside, where it belonged. Whoever it was tugged him to his feet. Din tried to break away, but they held tight.

“Mando!” someone cried, “That's enough now!”

“Relax, mate,” someone else said.

Din did what they said. Their voices sounded familiar. Sounded…nothing was muffled anymore.

Dandy was holding Grogu, who whined when Din looked at him. Din was panting, struggling to catch his breath. His chest felt tight and his heart was racing. What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell just happened?

Shanty sat up, muttering curses.

“I can…tie him up,” Din suggested. He felt sort of dazed. He reached for the kid, but Dandy shifted away.

“No,” Dandy replied, “That’s alright. Come sit.”

“I got it,” Prop volunteered flatly. He went to grab a zip tie, dragging his leg behind him.

Dandy brought Din over to the couch, but he didn’t sit. Dandy was still holding onto his arm, and, this time, Din let him.

Prop picked up a zip tie. “Did you cut this?”

“Maybe,” Dandy admitted.

Din didn’t think it was a problem though. Shanty looked pretty worn down. His hat had fallen off, and there was a network of cracks on his helmet’s visor. There were blood stains on his shirt collar—a lot of them.

Din looked down at his hand. There was blood on the glove, too. He tried making a fist, and it hurt to do so.

Prop found the one zip tie still intact and brought it over. He crouched down beside Shanty while Din and Dandy watched. Dandy squeezed his arm a little tighter.

“Stay still,” Prop grumbled. Shanty didn’t have any trouble doing so.

Prop finished his task and stood up.

“How should we do this?” he asked solemnly.

“Do what?”

“We can’t live here with a crazy Lorian, Dandy, something’s gotta give.”

“I can do it,” Din volunteered.

“You sure?” Prop wondered.

Din nodded. Dandy definitely couldn’t do it, and he didn’t want Prop to do it either. They had been friends. Din had only known him for an hour or so, and he’d already tried to kill his kid.

To Dandy, Prop said, “Go to the other room.”

“And bring the kid with you,” Din added.

Dandy looked between them and Shanty. He glanced down at Grogu, who blinked back up at him. Dandy let go of Din to boop the kid’s nose, then walked away.

“Dandy!” Shanty called after him, “C’mon, are ye really gonna let him kill me?”

Dandy stopped but didn’t look back.

“I’d…like to know why.”

Din didn’t. He didn’t need to know anything. He just needed to eliminate the threat. Shanty eyed Dandy for a second.

“Fine. Candy dies, I make it look like it was Mando, then we keep his kid,” his voice rose, “Isn’t that what you wanted? To have one again?”

Din glanced at Prop, silently asking him to do something about Dandy.

Prop dropped a hand on Dandy’s shoulder.

“C’mon, mate,” he said, leading him into the other room.

Din waited until they were gone, and then he gathered his blaster. If he put it against Shanty’s helmet, the bolt would be close enough to break through the beskar. That would give him a mostly painless death. Din wouldn’t have had a problem with something different, but, for the other's sake, he’d make this quick.

Din stood over Shanty. He pointed the gun down at him.

“Anything to say?” he inquired, though he wasn’t quite sure why he was asking. He didn’t care. It just felt weird shooting someone like this.

Shanty leaned over so he could look at the doorway.

“Mateys!” he yelled, “Hel–”

Din pulled the trigger. There was a

splash

as Shanty’s brains splattered across the floor.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Shanty hit the wall back first. He fell to his hands and knees, pain radiating from his spine. The side of his face throbbed from where the guard had punched him and he could smell the blood running from his nose.

A pair of boots stepped up in front of him. Karga.

“Y’know, it’d be a lot easier if you just handed the money over,” he said.

Shanty looked down at the ground. He screwed up. He screwed up

big time.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

“And why is that?”

Shanty shut his eyes tight. “Because I don’t have it.”

“Hm.”

To the guards, Karga ordered, “Search him.”

Each guard took an arm and tugged him to his knees. One held him up as the other went through his belt. He only came up with two doubloons.

The guard tossed the doubloons to the floor at Karga’s feet. Karga grinned. Not what Shanty had been expecting.

He bent down, still smiling, wrapped a hand around Shanty’s throat, and thrust him against the wall. Somewhere in the room, Guillver squawked in alarm. It was barely audible over the observers’ cheers.

“I’ll get you your money,” Shanty choked out.

“No,” Karga dropped him, “Your bird’ll do just fine.”

“Wait,” Shanty said between pants, “What?”

Karga went back to the table. He grabbed Gulliver roughly. Gulliver screeched and started squirming and clawing at Karga’s hand. Karga didn’t seem to notice.

Shanty began to stand up, but one of the guards kicked him back down.

“

No one

swindles me out of a deal,” Karga wasn’t grinning anymore, “Not without consequence.”

Karga lifted the bird, who was still panicking.

“Wait–,” Shanty reached towards them, but a guard stepped on his hand.

Karga brought the bird down. Gulliver let out a shriek as his head struck the table.

“Stop!” Shanty pleaded, “I can pay!”

“Oh, you will,” Karga responded coolly. Gulliver hit the table again with another squawk. Shanty couldn’t do anything but watch as Karga did it over and over again.

On the fourth hit, Gulliver went quiet. Shanty’s heart was racing. His stomach was all knotted up. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he puked.

Karga came back over to Shanty and dropped the bird in front of him. Green feathers drifted softly to the floor. Gulliver’s foot was bent in a weird angle, and it twitched. The bird’s eyes landed on Shanty. They brightened, like Shanty was going to make everything better.

But then Karga’s boot came down. There was a crunch. The sound was so…little. And delicate. As if Gulliver’s skull was but a shell.

Karga stepped away. Shanty swallowed, the possibility of him throwing up becoming more and more likely.

His bird, who loved mangos and collecting pebbles and taking baths, was gone. A body without a head.

The guards let him go and Shanty scrambled closer to his bird. His hand hovered above the gorey puddle that had once been Gulliver’s head.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. Shanty drew his cutlass. He nearly broke down laughing at the look on Karga’s face as he sliced his stomach open. Whatever gut-wrenching pain Karga was feeling wasn’t even a

fraction

of what Shanty felt.

Because it was his fault. If he could’ve just waited for the money, Gulliver wouldn’t be dead.

The basement was blissfully quiet as he left. That was because everyone–the guards, Karga, Karga’s observers, the bartender, even the random bystanders–were dead.

Shanty took one more of Gulliver’s tail feathers before he went back up the stairs. He tucked it into his hat, then went on to kill everyone else.

The vendor from earlier.

Because it was his fault. If he had charged less for the grain, Shanty wouldn’t have gone gambling.

The officers that watched Shanty kill him.

Because it was their fault. If they weren’t there, Shanty could’ve just stolen the grain.

Then he got on his ship and opened cannon fire on the city.

Because it was their fault. If they never settled here, Shanty would’ve had to stop at another island.

The officers sent ships to shoot back at him, but Shanty didn’t stop.

Not when his ship caught on fire.

Not when his ship split in bloody half.

He only stopped when he was out of cannonballs.

Then, he threw himself into the sea.

Because it was his fault. He hadn’t listened.

But Shanty never got his punishment. He’d woken up in this house. Deep down, he knew his plan would never work, but he also knew going through with it would bring some justice. Some…control of the situation, if not for a short time. Watch someone

else

be helpless for a change.

Every single odd had been against him, but Shanty just couldn’t say no to a good game.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Mando’s firearm made a weird sound as it went off. Prop had been expecting it, but it still startled him.

They sat with their backs to the wall. There was only one doorway separating them from the main room, so Shanty’s pathetic cries for help were crystal clear. Prop hadn’t gotten used to the idea of his old pal being a murderer, so it was difficult not to listen.

Prop wrapped his arm around Dandy’s shoulders, giving him a sideways hug. The poor guy was near hyperventilating.

Grogu was currently being squeezed to death by his babysitter. The concerned look on his little face would have been funny under any other circumstances.

They all sat like that for a while, because what else was there to do? Earlier, Prop promised they’d figure this out. Now he wished he hadn’t. It was unreasonable, he knew, but…but it would’ve been easier to cope with Mando being the killer.

Once Dandy had calmed down a bit, Prop decided to check in.

“Can we–”

“Not yet,” Mando called back before he could finish, “I’m gonna throw this in one of the rooms.”

Prop swallowed, repulsed by how casual he sounded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes more, then Prop clambered to his feet.

“C’mon, mate,” Prop offered. He was trying to sound upbeat but was having a hard time. “How’s an actual chair sound?”

Dandy stood up without another word. Grogu blinked. He seemed confused. He probably didn’t understand why they were mourning the guy who just tried to kill him.

Prop took a step toward the doorway, then froze when pain lanced through his leg. Oh, yeah. He hissed and grabbed onto the doorway. Dandy appeared at his side.

“Oh, Prop,” Dandy yelped, “You’re hurt.”

Prop tried to answer, but he couldn’t. The world was spinning.

“May-maybe you should sit down,” Dandy suggested.

That seemed like a good idea.

Prop let go of the doorway and made for the couch. He only made it a few steps before his legs stopped listening to him and he tripped. Prop landed on his hands and knees, his breath coming in thin gasps. There was blood on the floor. The realization sent his vision swimming and he looked away.

Dandy knelt with him.

“Can you move?” Dandy inquired urgently, “I’d…I’d like to have a look at your leg.”

Prop still couldn’t speak. Move? Where?

He couldn’t breathe. Panic crashed over him like a wave. What was going on? Was it blood loss or something? He hadn’t thought the cut was

that

bad.

Prop looked up. Oh. He’d landed right in front of the couch. That’s probably what Dandy meant.

He shifted so his back was propped up against the couch. That small task took more effort than he’d like to admit. His limbs felt like Jell-O.

To the kid, Dandy requested, “Go wait in the kitchen for me, dear.”

Grogu eyed Prop as if he were considering something, then turned and shuffled away.

“How bad is it?” Prop inquired once the kid had left. Sitting upright was definitely helpful. Breathing wasn’t impossible anymore. Speaking was still hard, though. His voice sounded all choked.

Dandy titled his head. He was looking at the cut. Prop had been avoiding the view on purpose. He was slowly becoming less and less tolerant of gore. It was like…the opposite of being desensitized.

“I’m no expert, but it’s…not bleeding,” Dandy glanced up at him for reassurance, “I assume that’s good?”

Prop leaned forward to get a peek.
The cut was right above his knee. It wasn’t all that deep. And, as Dandy said, it wasn’t bleeding either. There were only two reasons why an injury would stop bleeding–if the blood had clotted or if the victim had run dry. It couldn’t be the second option, because, if that was the case, Prop would be long dead. So that meant it had stopped bleeding on its own. He was fine. So what was happening to him?
His eyes landed on the blood on the floor. It was already beginning to dry. Upon further inspection, it wasn’t Prop’s. There were chunks of…stuff in it. Brain matter, probably.
Prop let his head fall back against the couch.

“Yeah, he agreed, “it’s fine.”

Though he felt far from it. Despair was a painful weight on his chest. It was happening again. No, it

already

happened again. His team was gone. He let them all down.

Maybe this team was a lot smaller than the last one, but…but it felt the same. The sense of…security and…belonging. Prop had missed that feeling. Now he was missing it some more.

Dandy started to get up. Prop looked up at him quickly.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought you might be thirsty,” Dandy responded, gesturing towards the sink, “But I can stay if you like.”

“Yes,” Prop blurted out. He cleared his throat. “Please.”

Dandy sat back down and Prop looked away, sort of embarrassed. Dandy wrapped his arm around his shoulders, just like Prop did earlier. He had also draped a washcloth–they had a cabinet of them in the loo–over Prop’s cut. He didn’t remember Dandy leaving to get it. While it probably wasn’t medical protocol, it was nice not having to stare at it.

Prop felt a bubble of warmth. He’d been wrong earlier. He still had Dandy. He wasn’t alone. Not quite.

“You know, I’m…,” Prop began, “I’m happy to have you here.”

Dandy let out a sigh.

“Me too, Prop,” he replied, sounding a bit sleepy, “Me, too.”

After a long while of peaceful quiet, Prop inquired, “When did you get that washcloth?”

“I didn’t,” Dandy responded, “Grogu brought it over. I’m…fairly certain he shut the curtains earlier, too.”

“The curtains?” Prop repeated, “How?”

The kid was far too short to reach them.

Dandy shrugged. “Did

you

see who did it?”

“No.”

There was the sound of footsteps, and Prop looked up. Mando. He must’ve left Shanty in one of the further rooms, judging by how long he took.

Grogu squeaked in excitement and toddled over to Mando, much faster than Prop thought he was capable. The child looked even tinier next to his dad. He was barely taller than Mando’s boot.

Mando bent down and picked him up.

“Hey, pal,” he greeted, giving his kid a quick, affectionate back rub. His voice sounded completely different when he spoke to Grogu.

Mando crossed the living room, bypassing Prop and Dandy. Prop couldn’t tell if Mando was giving them space or if he generally didn’t give a crap. Mando pulled a chair out at the dining table and sat down, still cradling the child in his arms.

“There are some washcloths in the powder room,” Dandy said flatly, “For your shoulder.”

“Mm,” was all Mando said. Prop assumed that meant he was fine.

Dandy stared at him for a moment before looking down at his lap. Since Mando’s return, Dandy’s mood seemed to have changed drastically.

“Is…your arm okay?” Prop asked. He still felt bad about shooting him.

“Sure.”

“There might be something around here to patch it up, if–”

“It’s fine, Prop,” Dandy interrupted, somewhat snappishly.

Prop frowned. That was new.

Prop decided to shut up for a while. Dandy probably just needed some space. Still, he was a little bitter with Mando for ruining the mood.

“Do you…remember what happened?” Mando inquired, sounding lost in thought.

Prop glanced up at him.

“Before you woke up here,” Mando clarified.

Prop opened his mouth to respond, but a sound cut him off. At first, he dismissed it as creaky furniture.

Boy was he wrong.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Din just realized something. He had…no memory of what happened before he woke up here. He remembered going to sleep and something being off, but that was it.

Everything here seemed to have a pattern–like the names, the furniture, the Grogus. Maybe the same went for Din’s memory loss.

“Do you…,” Din began, “Remember what happened? Before you woke up here?”

Before anyone could answer, there was a noise. Din looked up and felt his heart leap.

The front door had opened.

And beyond it, the static had been chased away by a familiar image. Grogu recognized it before Din did, and his ears perked with excitement.

Din stared at it. “Um…”

Prop looked up and stiffened.

“Heavens to Betsy,” Dandy mumbled, standing up, “that’s never happened before.”

Prop stayed on the ground, probably because of his leg. “Not since you got here.”

“What does that mean?” Dandy pondered.

“Me and–,” Prop cut himself off and started again, “I got here before you did. There were others, but, one by one, the door opened for them.”

“Why?” This time Din asked the question. He remembered how Prop had reacted to the open door. His silence hadn’t been shock, it had been recognition.

Prop shrugged. “The hell would I know?”

The group sank into a period of silence. Din was the one to break it.

“I think it’s my turn,” he said.

“

Your

turn?” Dandy speculated, “But you just got here.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. You’ve seen what being here for too long can do,” Prop replied, giving a brief nod to the other room. The room where the bodies had been stored. Din had left Shanty in the same one as Candy. It felt right, like he was showing Candy he’d been avenged.

“I guess so,” Dandy agreed. He sounded disappointed.

“What’s the matter?” Prop wondered.

“I just–I thought we were finally going to have a new face around here, but…now…,” Dandy didn’t continue, but Din got the message.

“Don’t you mean a new helmet?” Din jested, hoping to lighten the mood.

It took the two a moment to respond, and Din feared they didn’t get the joke.

“Gosh, Mando,” Dandy said.

“Yeah, too soon,” agreed Prop.

Din shrugged. “I tried.”

The two stared at him for a moment, but then Prop scoffed and burst out laughing.

“Prop!” Dandy snapped, though he was laughing a bit himself, “That is not funny! Two people died!”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Prop gave in.

“Yes, I’m

always

right. Why is this news to you?”

That triggered another breakdown from Prop.

“Hush your mouth! You are scaring Mando!”

A sound interrupted the group and pulled their attention back to the door. It had swung in a little. It was closing.

Prop turned back to Din. He wasn’t laughing anymore. “You should get going.”

Din’s reply was a brief nod. He got up and headed across the room, intending to leave without another word, but a sudden thought nagged at him. Din froze midstep. He was right in front of the door. He could see his cabin on the other side, with Din’s seat on the porch and the small pond on their lawn. Nevarro’s single sun was just beginning to rise. They were so close, Din and Grogu, to going back home. And yet, Din found himself unable to leave.

“Just one more thing,” Din said, turning to face the remaining Lorians, “Dandy–you never told me how you lost yours.”

Dandy hesitated. “My…?”

“Your Grogu,” Din clarified, though he could tell Dandy was stalling.

“Hey, hang on,” Prop added, “you’ve never told me either.”

“Oh, alright,” Dandy gave in, though he sounded bitter about it, “mine was my steed. I used to take him out to competitions, and one day, I, uh, got cocky.”

Dandy paused for a long time, and Din wondered if the story was over. But then he continued. “I was showin’ off to some friends–a trophy I’d gotten from the last contest–and one of ‘em asked me to prove my skills. I guess I…didn’t like the way he’d doubted me, so…”

“So?” Din pressed.

Dandy took a sharp breath.

“

So

I made him jump a cliff and now he’s dead,” Dandy crossed his arms and gave Din a look, “Happy?”

“Jesus,” Prop muttered. He sounded shocked. “That’s rough. Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be,” Dandy dismissed, much softer this time. He seemed uncomfortable. “it was on me. Sorry I snapped.”

No one spoke for a moment. Din was ready to go home, but it didn’t feel quite right to leave the others there–trapped in this little house with the corpses of their newly deceased friends. That sounded awful, but what could Din do? He sure as hell wasn’t bringing them back to his place. He still had no idea what was going on there. That whole experience had been nothing but confusing and stressful. Better the reason to go home.

He took a step towards the door. To the Lorians, Din announced, “I guess this means goodbye.”

“Eh, I don’t like goodbyes,” Prop declined, “let’s just call this a see ya’ later.”

Din gave each Lorian a quick nod before turning around to leave. Grogu pulled himself up on Din’s shoulder and gave the Lorians a wave. Dandy waved back. Prop brought his hand to his helmet and then pulled it away sharply, saluting him.

Then Din stepped onto his front lawn, and the familiar black, gritty soil of Nevarro crunched underfoot. The warmth from the newly risen sun washed over them. The sky overhead was a medley of violets and oranges and baby blues. When he and his kid looked behind them, the door had disappeared.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was dark now. The overhead lights had gone off maybe ten minutes ago. That was how they worked. On for twelve hours. Off for twelve more. Dandy didn’t know much more about them. He just knew there was no way for them to control it.

Prop was lying on the couch and Dandy on the floor. That was their sleeping arrangement. Shanty always got to sleep in his hammock, since it belonged to him. Dandy, Prop, and Candy took turns sleeping on the couch. Tonight was

supposed

to be Candy’s turn, but…

Dandy could’ve slept on the hammock, but he didn’t want to. He could’ve taken the couch, too, but, after the talk about his Grogu, he felt like doing something. Something to make up for…everything. It was a familiar feeling. Sometimes he satisfied it by doing the dishes or volunteering to make dinner. He used to do that back home, too. Dandy had a feeling his husband was catching on, as he’d seemed more concerned about Dandy’s recent cleaning sprees than thrilled about them.

Recent.

They weren’t recent, were they? How long had Dandy been here? A couple months? Lord. He hoped his husband didn’t think he left on purpose. Dandy would never!

Anway, Dandy usually disliked sleeping on the floor–because who would?–but now it felt gratifying.

Sometimes Dandy didn’t like being him. And what do you do to someone you don’t like? You make them sleep on the floor.

“Hey, Dandy?” Prop asked. His voice sounded too loud after all the silence of the night.

His mood immediately brightened.

“Yes?”

“Thanks for telling me about your horse,” he said, “I know it isn’t easy.”

“Oh. Um…you’re welcome?” Dandy replied. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. The words ‘you’re welcome’ felt odd on his tongue.

“Do me a favor and don’t beat yourself up, alright?” Prop requested.

Dandy didn’t say anything. He killed his own Grogu, also known as a Lorian’s sole purpose for living. Why

shouldn’t

he beat himself up? Sure, it had been months ago, but the guilt was still fresh.

Prop seemed to read his thoughts.

“Maybe you weren’t…so great then. But you’re a brick, now,” he insisted.

Dandy shifted onto his side, trying to get comfortable. He wished Prop would lay off. He didn’t like talking about himself. He didn’t even like

thinking

about himself. Because what was there to think about? How much of a screw-up he was? It was just…easier to focus on everyone else.

“Sure,” he responded.

“Seriously,” Prop pressed, “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Dandy felt a pang of sadness. And something else. Longing. He wanted to believe Prop, but he wasn't sure he was allowed to.

“You promise?” Dandy asked quietly.

“Of course.”

There was a creaking sound. Dandy’s eyes widened and he sat up.

The door. It had opened again, only it wasn’t Mando’s house on the other side.

It was the ballroom.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The caf distiller made its regular gurgling noise as it did its job. Din yawned. It was early. The very top of Nevarro’s sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. A chilly breeze from the open door ruffled his cape. After all his time spent on Nevarro, Din found that sunrise was the perfect time to wake up. If he got up before, it was too cold to function and if he got up after, it would already be too warm out to enjoy his cup of caf.

As he awaited a beep from the caf distiller, Din got to work making Grogu’s beverage. Of course, Grogu was much too young–erm,

little

–to have much of any caffeinated drink, so Din was instead making him a popular cold-weather beverage called Hoth chocolate. As the name implied, the libation originated from the ice planet Hoth. It tasted how you’d expect melted chocolate to–creamy, sweet, and sort of thick. Though there wasn’t anything wrong with the beverage, Din wasn’t enough of a sweet tooth to take any pleasure in drinking it. Grogu was a different story.

Din took two mugs down from the hooks hanging above the distiller. He emptied a parcel of cocoa powder into the smaller one and placed it under the sink’s faucet. Once it was full, he turned off the faucet and went to the cooling chamber to get a carton of Bantha milk. The original recipe called for Tauntaun milk, but none of the vendors in the downtown market carried anything like that. When Din finished mixing everything with a spoon, he tuned up his flamethrower and blasted the mug. Why wait for water to boil when he could just torch it? He switched the flamethrower off. Fireproof mugs had been a good investment.

A high-pitched

beep

sounded from the caf distiller. Din left Grogu’s mug on the counter. He took the pot off and poured its contents into the taller mug, then stirred in some Bantha milk before returning the carton to the cooling chamber.

To finish everything off, Din reached up and grabbed a jar off the top of the chamber. Within the jar, there was an array of red, white, and green striped sticks. These were sparklemints; the closest thing Din could find to a peppermint. He took one from the jar and dropped it into Grogu’s mug. After making sure Grogu wasn’t spying on him, he put the jar back in its hiding place. When your kid can use the Force, there’s almost nothing you can keep from them. The only way to keep them from getting sugared up is by simply not telling them there was sugar in the first place.

He took a steaming mug in each hand and strolled through the front door. Grogu sat on the ground directly in front of the open doorway, hunched over a drawing.

“Mornin,’ kid,” Din greeted, setting the Hoth chocolate down next to him. Grogu eyed the mug until his dad let go of the handle, then he went straight for the sparklemint. Din took his usual seat with a contented sigh. He wrapped his hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth.

Din felt a light tug on his cape. He looked down. There was Grogu, clutching a yellowish piece of paper to his chest. He looked nervous, his round eyes cast downward and his ears hanging low. Hesitantly, he held the paper out to Din.

Din took it and brought it up closer to his helmet, handling it gently. After a moment of careful examination, he glanced over at his kid. “You drew this?”

His ears pulled down further, and he nodded.

“All by yourself?”

Another nod.

Din rose from his seat. “You know where this is going?”

Din made his way back into the house, bringing both the drawing and his mug along with him. Grogu’s ears perked and he shuffled after his dad.

Din stepped up in front of the cooling chamber. There was a spot he’d been saving, right in the center, for the perfect picture. This. This was that picture. He set the drawing in that special spot and propped it up with a magnet. Then he stepped back to admire his kid’s work.

All

his kid’s works. Din was proud to say that every single inch of that cooling chamber was covered in wonderful drawings, all done by Grogu.

“Not bad, kid,” Din said, “not bad at all.”

Grogu gave him a smile before toddling back onto the porch to finish his drink. Din let his gaze linger on the drawing. It was a picture of him and his kid with a big green heart between them. It was adorable. So why was it filling Din with unease?

Maybe it was because of how long he’d ignored it. He’d been so caught up in keeping him fed and safe and…provided for, that he’d unknowingly hurt the kid’s feelings. He’d been so caught up in showing Grogu he’d made the right choice that he’d...just proved him more wrong.

Din reached up and moved the magnet so it blocked his helmet.

The drawing looked better that way. Not that he’d ever tell anyone, though. Grogu was his, and Din intended to keep it that way.

No one could take his kid away from him.

Not again.

Never again.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Handy-Lorian

A Handyman Mando. Almost made it into the main cast, but was cut for lack of value to the plot.

The Brandy-Lorian

A drug dealer Mando.

The Scary-Lorian

Not sure exactly what was going to make this Lorian scary. Maybe he would have been a ghost or a parody of one of the many horror movie killers who wear masks.

The De-Lorian

Car Mando.

Fancy

car Mando.

The Sandy-Lorian

This guy would have either been a sandwich or a surfer bro. In the end, I decided there could be only one edible Mando. Technically speaking, both sandwiches and surfers are edible.

The Randy-Lorian

Not even a real Lorian. Just some loser named Randy. He probably would’ve died first anyway.

The Blendy-Lorian

This dude would’ve been a fusion of Grogu and Mando. Or maybe he was a smoothie. The loss of a Grogu would be difficult with this character.

The Manga-Lorian

Gotta admit, this one would’ve been fun. He would’ve been an anime Mando who talks in speech bubbles.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Nevarro’s downtown market was quiet. The sun was halfway done setting, and vendors were closing down their shops. Three or four customers were finishing up their purchases. Din was one of those customers. He double-checked his shopping list:

Bantha Butter X

Instant Pasta X

Cocoa Powder

Bantha Milk X

Nerfsteak Seasoning

He’d gotten just about everything, except for cocoa powder and Nerfsteak seasoning. They were both sold out. Din was no chef, which was something he had to fix. He and Grogu had been living on instant meals and simple recipes for a while now. To make their meals more flavorful, Din had started to mix ingredients. Most combinations were repulsive, but some, like Nerfsteak seasoning and instant pasta, were good. He and Grogu could live without seasoned pasta, but cocoa powder? Grogu liked to stir it into his milk every morning. He’d surely be disappointed without it.

Din checked on his kid, wondering how to deliver the news. Grogu was in his pod, which produced a faint humming sound as it floated. Unlike the old pod, it had controls that let Grogu drive it around. Din wasn’t sure if he preferred it. Sure, it had been helpful back on Mandalore. No, not

helpful.

Life-saving. If Grogu hadn’t been able to speed away, they both would’ve been eaten by that…

thing.

Din still shuddered at the memory. The thing had drugged him, locked him up, and forced him to watch as it drained him of his blood.

The new pod had saved both their skins. It gave Grogu some independence. Gave him some self-sufficiency. That was a good thing. So why didn’t Din like the idea? Truthfully, he never did. He knew he was being selfish. Din wouldn’t last forever and Grogu needed to know how to take care of himself. Din just hoped…

Nevermind. He had bigger fish to fry.

He looked back down at his kid and realized he was gone. Din looked around frantically, uncertainty rising into panic.

Then he found him. The kid had driven over to a booth. Din hurried over, preparing to scold him for running off, and then he noticed what he was staring at. It was a toy booth. There was a diverse selection of handmade toys: stuffed animals, miniature ships, marbles, building blocks, and an assortment of dolls. There were Rodain dolls, Stormtroopers, New Republic officers, Twi’leks, Jedi, Wookies, and even a few Mandalorians.

Grogu wasn’t looking at the dolls, though. He seemed to have his heart set on a frog stuffed animal. It was light blue, had long, floppy limbs, and a big, black button for an eye. Grogu looked up at him hopefully. Din remembered the cocoa powder. He went for the last few credits in his belt and the kid’s ears perked.

“You can have it,” Din compromised, “but if you lose it, you’re not getting another one.”

The vendor thanked him somewhat hastily for his purchase and handed the toy to Grogu. He held it in front of himself for a moment, admiring it, and then he pulled it into a hug. Din felt a smile pulling at his lips. That was one of the upsides of settling down. Now Grogu had a chance to do normal kid things, like getting a toy as a reward for letting Din drag him around the market.

The market descended into shadows as the sun vanished over the horizon. Din nodded in the general direction of their house, and the two got going.

It was dark by the time they stepped onto their porch. The small glow bulb hanging to their door created a flickering circle of light on their porch. Nighttime insects buzzed around the bulb. There was a

shhhoooom

overhead as a cargo ship made its way to the landing platform.

Din pressed a button on his gauntlet, and the door slid open. The cabin was pitch-black inside. He started in and heard his footstep echo. He froze, holding his breath and silently willing the sound to repeat. He held his hand up, hoping Grogu would see and realize it meant to stay put. Din turned his helmet’s flashlight on. Stark-white light flooded the room. It washed over furniture, the walls, and…figures. He only saw them for a split second before they came hurtling at him.

His hand went instinctively for his blaster. Someone grabbed his arm and wrested it behind him. He dropped the blaster. Din shifted and threw the bag of groceries at his attacker. While they were distracted, he went for his vibroblade. Din slashed backward, aiming at his attacker’s throat, but someone new tackled him from the side. The weight was too much to handle, and Din lost his balance. His attackers fell with him.

With one hand pinned behind his back and the other grasping his knife, Din couldn’t catch himself. The impact forced the blade from his hand and twisted his head sideways.

“Ow!” one of the strangers shouted, “What the heck, Sandy?”

“Sorry, bro,” the other attacker responded.

Din’s flashlight reflected off something silver ahead of him. His vibroblade. He reached out for it, but

another

new figure stepped on his hand. He heard muscles crack under the weight and he grit his teeth against the pain. They were holding him down. Why? Were they going to tie him up and bring him somewhere else? Were they waiting for something?

“Oi!” someone yelled, “Relax! We’re not tryna kill him!”

Din couldn’t look up to confirm his theory, but the voice sounded familiar. A pair of boots appeared before him.

Din squinted at them, trying to put the pieces together. “Prop?”

The stranger stepped off his hand. Din craned his neck to see the boot’s owner. Charred armor. Camouflage undershirt. Cracked, dented visor. It

was

Prop.

“Yeah, sorry Mando. Thought these guys could play it cool.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Colt’s look of alarm still hadn’t faded. “He’s from

there

?”

Dandy nodded sullenly.

“You sure he’s not…y’know, nuts?” Colt spun his finger around in a circle above his head to demonstrate his point.

Dandy put his hands out in a reassuring gesture. “He’s fine. I promise.”

“Well…alright,” Colt replied, still sounding skeptical. He stepped aside tentatively, slowly letting go of Dandy’s hand.

Dandy opened the door all the way this time. As soon as the stranger’s eyes landed on him, his demeanor immediately brightened. He wore a helmet that looked worn down, as did the rest of his armor. The clothing beneath was a green camouflage pattern. He

looked

like Prop.

“Hey, Dandy. Long time no see,” he greeted, a little nervously.
The visitor stood and came over to Dandy. He awkwardly held his hand out to him, offering a handshake. Dandy stared at it for a moment before slowly taking his hand. Instead of shaking it, he pulled Prop into a hug. A tight one. Prop stiffened.
“Ow…,” he choked out.

Dandy immediately loosened his grip but didn’t quite let go.

“Sorry,” he apologized through a grin. A chuckle bubbled out of him, though it was a bit of a sad sound. “Lord, I thought–”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” Prop replied warmly, finally hugging back.

Prop stepped away before Dandy was ready. Dandy had forgotten just how much he’d missed him. How ironic–Dandy finally made some true friends just for them to die or be separated. Prop was the only one left. Technically so was Mando, but Dandy hadn’t had enough time to get to know him.

Prop glanced at something behind Dandy. “Ah, Casper, done with that drink yet?”

Colt came through the doorway and stopped at Dandy’s side, arms crossed. “It’s Colt. And no.”

Dandy silently thanked his husband for staying with him. Things always came easier when he was around; words, relaxation, et cetera.

“Prop,” Dandy asked, "how did you…get here? The door doesn’t–”

Prop held up his hand, stopping him. “I’ll explain everything once we’re back at the house. C’mon.”

Prop cut between Dandy and Colt and made for the door. Dandy hurried after him. He followed Prop out of the parlor and to their front door. He opened it.

“Now, hold your horses–”

“We just need to go to the ballroom,” Prop interrupted. “That’s where the door is.”

“He’s not going,” Colt snapped.

Prop paused and glanced back. Irritation crept into his voice. “And why is that?”

Dandy swallowed. Colt was stubborn. So was Prop.

“The hell do you think?” Colt narrowed his eyes, daring their visitor to protest.

Prop stared him down. “Well, it’s not

your

choice, is it?”

Both of them turned to Dandy. He hesitated, feeling like he had to pick between his two favorite people.

Compromise,

he thought,

find a compromise.

“Prop–I wanna help you, but I…” Dandy felt his confidence growing. “I’d like to

chat

first, okay? Let’s try not to rush into anything.

Prop watched him for a moment. Dandy worried he was going to argue, but instead, he sighed and closed the door.

“Alright, Dandy. Let’s chat.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“So you didn’t hear anything last night?” Dandy asked again. “Anything at all?”

“For the third time, no,” Prop replied. He didn’t sound irritated, though. He understood where Dandy was coming from. It was the Shanty situation all over again. The sequel. The Shanty sequel.

Prop opened the door to his room and peeked inside to check the clock. “We’re running out of daylight.”

Mando looked at Dandy. “Guess we’re staying the night.”

Dandy nodded, though he was distracted. The lights went back on at eight o’clock. That meant twelve hours of total darkness, stuck in this house with another Shanty. Dandy tried to imagine it. All he could picture was Candy.

He blinked away the images and found Prop looking at him.

“We can figure it out tomorrow, mate,” Prop said.

“Sure,” Dandy agreed, trying to sound optimistic.

“Maybe we should gather everyone up. Sleep downstairs tonight,” Mando suggested, turning to Prop.

Prop hesitated. “I don’t know if…I mean, doesn’t that seem a little extreme? Plus, we don’t know if the killer’s still active. He might’ve been done with Randy.”

“What if he isn’t?” Mando asked. “I’m not sure being separated in the dark is such a good idea.”

“He’s right, hon,” Dandy chimed in.

Prop thought for a minute.

“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll tell them to gather their stuff. They aren’t gonna like it, though.”

He began to leave, but Dandy stopped him.

“We ought to keep an eye on them while they do,” he added. Mando had raised a good point. If their killer was anything like Shanty, they wouldn’t stop at one. Dandy wanted a lot of things. He wanted to find out who their killer was and he wanted to give them their just desserts, but above all, he wanted to keep everyone safe. Prop, Mando, Grogu, and all the newbies. If he was going to keep his promise to Colt, he had to keep himself safe as well.

“Okay,” Mando concurred. “Dandy. Who do you want?”

Dandy remembered Handy’s interrogation. He’d mocked Grogu and nearly got into a fistfight with Mando.

“I’ll take Handy,” Dandy glanced down the hallway. “And Sandy, since their rooms are close,”

“You sure?” Prop asked. Dandy knew who he was referring to.

“I am,” Dandy confirmed.

“I guess I’ll take Brandy, then,” Prop added.

Mando looked at his map. “That leaves Manga and…Scary.”

Dandy detected a twinge of uneasiness when Mando mentioned Scary. Dandy could guess why. Dandy tried not to make assumptions, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if Scary turned out to be their killer.

But that wasn’t all, Dandy reckoned. Scary had said he ‘liked kids.’ What did that mean for a serial killer?

“If anything goes pear-shaped just yell,” Prop suggested.

Dandy nodded. So did Mando.

Then they split up.