Being who he’s meant to be involves getting shot at a lot, he had almost forgotten, ducking beneath another volley of blaster bolts, and then swinging his blade to block a few more from hitting the innocent people behind him.
Both of his hands wrap around the hilt of his lightsaber as he grunts with the strain of fending off so many shots, it seems he’s a bit rusty since the last time he had to do this.
When was that again? Back on Coruscant? When he was infiltrating the temple with Yoda, or was it on Utapua when he was hunting Grievous? Ah, well, it doesn't really matter, he’d get back into the swing of it soon enough.
He quickly spins, blocking a shot, before directing another away from a slave and back towards the ones shooting. It seems that the number of guards is only growing, and with better aim apparently, he thinks, one shot almost singing his arm.
“Focus Jet’ii!” Jango yells taking his own shots at the ones that kept him captive, each of his shots striking true, “what happened to drawing them to you?” He asks Ben with a grunt, ducking behind cover as more fly by. Ben quickly uses the force to push one of the child slaves to the side before they could get hit.
“That comes after finding the shuttle,” Ben grunts back, a hard look of concentration on his face as he counts the number of enemies ahead, the number of people behind him, and estimates how far from the surface they all are.
In order, just about six guards ahead, probably more on the way, and probably with bigger guns. Theirs roughly three dozen people who need to be kept safe from either being recaptured, shot, or in general hurt. Lastly, there on the third level of the mine, the musky smell of the stale air reminded him of that as he takes a deep breath, executing a complicated flip to cover more ground.
“There’ll be more of them soon, and we’re pinned,” Jango growls, shot after shot leaving his blaster, and Ben nods his head in acknowledgment, knowing already that they needed a plan. It was a rookie mistake, he should have made a note of where the shipyard was, and he should have figured out a proper escape plan using about any other way out other than brute force.
“Alright, the only way out is through there, I’m gonna move forward, you keep everyone relatively safe, I’ll be back in a moment,” Ben says, another slash of blade humming through the air as he starts taking his first steps. He moves his saber in wide arcs, trying to draw as many of the shots as he can, while also making sure none of the strays get past.
He almost let out a sigh seeing two Gammoreans coming down the hall, as his blade spun in practiced Soresu, using as little energy as he can. Only about ten feet left, he thinks to himself, enjoying the slight panic he can sense setting into the slavers.
His intense glare shines as bright as his blade as he finally reaches them, hiding in the alcoves from Jango’s covering fire. He leans forward, his foot leaving the ground and taking him forward into a roll as he ducks under a few panicked blasts, his saber quickly returning the favor and slicing the weapon in half.
He stands quickly, arching his saber around to block three more blasts, jumping out of the way from the next few after with an impressive spin mid-air, the tip of his weapon running through another blaster as he lands.
His eyes move to the next four, his hand quickly following as he pushes forward, shoving them all against the wall with the Force, then letting them all fall to the ground yelling.
He takes another deep breath, his muscles sore as he lifts his blade back into a guard, those two Gammoreans finally making it over, and up close, they seem to be much bigger than the average green pig. His eyes narrow, seeing the giant axes they each hold and already taking a swipe at him as soon as they get close.
He can’t do anything but jump back, then duck, avoiding the other one’s axe by a hair's width, then again as his friend returns with a swing to Ben’s legs. He jumps, giving the ugly one a kick to the hand while avoiding the axe sliding beneath him.
His hand reaches forward, grabbing the axe that's fallen with the Force, and flinging it forward into one of the Gamorrean's stomachs, his blade whipping around taking the head of the other before he can finish his attack from behind.
Breathing heavily, Ben turns to look back down the hall and sees Fett walking up, the scared slaves trekking behind him.
“Why didn’t you knock them out? same way you did the guards?” Fett asks with a grunt, frowning, but Ben shakes his head, gesturing to the humanoids that lay unconscious, or more specifically at the cracks splintering from the wall.
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“I didn’t want to risk bringing the walls down,” He says, straightening his shoulders and looking over at everyone, making sure that they're all ok, his brows furrowing with a slight worry. “Did anyone get hurt?” Ben asks, turning back to Fett.
Fett nods his head, looking as well, taking a quick scan over all the people he has under his care. Ben sees him stop though, his eyes pausing on a smaller child, dirty, in rags, and looked to be on the verge of tears. Ben almost takes a step forward to calm the child, but he stops, waiting a moment to see what the Mandalorian would do.
Fett pauses for a second, his lips pursing, then he walks forward, letting his face set into stone. Ben crosses his arms as he watches Fett crouch, taking a knee to be on the child's level, and he watches with fascination as Fett starts whispering to him, his hand gently resting on the boy's shoulder.
The boy nods, answering some of the unheard questions, then look over Fett's shoulder, and right at Ben. He smiles reassuringly at the boy, giving him a little nod of his head, making the boy smile before he looks back at the one talking to him.
Fett stands, his hand still on the child's shoulder before he walks back over to Ben with the boy. Obi-Wan smiles warmly down at him before looking at Fett.
“This is Boba, he’ll be staying with me while we get out of here,” He says, his once warm eyes turning hard, daring the Jet’ii to say otherwise. Ben smiles though, nodding his head, and uncrosses his arms, instead letting them move behind his back in a professional guard, as he eyes the two of them.
Boba Fett, a name that he’d never forget, and the one it belonged to. He’d first met him on Kamino when he was hunting his father, and then again, while Boba was hunting Mace, but the boy standing in front of him is not the same child.
A darker-skinned child, and a short crop of hair, sat on top of the frail boy. The confusion must be easy to read on his face, because Fett is glaring even harder somehow, probably assuming that he does have some sort of problem with this.
“I think that would be a wonderful idea, but make sure that he has proper cover the next time we are under fire, he’ll be a lot closer than before,” Ben warns, then waving everyone forward. “We’re almost to level 1, just two more levels and then you’ll be free,” He says smiling at the hope he can feel radiating from everyone in his care.
He gives a tired sigh with a smile and starts their trek through the mine again, his eyes open, and his senses cast out, looking for more guards, more slavers. Luckily, all he can feel is the people behind him, so he could take a small break from his stress.
Not entirely though, he thinks, eyeing the strange duo of Jango and Boba, so very similar, yet so entirely different.
Boba walks next to the older man, his arms crossed over his stomach, his back hunched, yet desperate happiness is all he could see as the boy looks up at Fett. An excited chatter comes from him, talking about freedom, comfort, and the fun he’s finally going to get to have.
Ben's smile almost matches the child's, but a wave of deep unsettling anger begins to stir in him thinking about the slavers who’ve done this. Quickly, he takes a breath, his anger slipping from him like a wave, his shoulders relaxing as he walks, a little straighter.
“Whatever happened, whatever happens, I have time,” He quietly whispers to himself, looking back at the crowd, then the Fetts. His mind flashes with a quick vision of another father-son duo, one from so long ago. He lets a frown gently lay on his face, but he shakes his head, clearing it of all these negative emotions.
“Problem Jet’ii?” Fett asks falling in step beside him, Boba still glued to his side. Ben stares at him, an inquisitive quirk on his brow. Fett stares back blankly, waiting for the answer of a hopefully not complicated variety.
“Just memories,” Ben says, looking forward, while Fett nods. Boba looks up at the two of them, confused, seeing something clearly wrong with their protector.
“Anything to do with Mandalore?” The Mandalorian asks, looking down to meet the child's eye, knowing it’s something more personal. Ben smiles, sighing a little and looking at the both of them affectionately, or more like he was looking through them.
“In a way,” He says, shrugging, his hands moving behind his back as they turn a corner, and his senses reaching out still, scouting for the inevitable danger.
“The new Duchess then?” Fett questions with a grunt, his hand squeezing Boba’s shoulder lightly, a little comfort for himself, making himself frown in thought. “Kryze’s kid, Katan something,” He says with a strain, thinking of the old friend of his father.
“Satine actually, and she’s the one that needs your help,” Obi-Wan says quietly, looking Fett over, waiting to see his reaction. He was met with only a stone face, barely a slip of emotion leaving him. “She needs the Manda’lore,” He continues, voice steady.
“I’m not the Manda’lore,” Fett says quietly, keeping his eyes forward, and his hand firmly on Boba. Ben nods, his hand stroking his chin in thought, a small hum of acknowledgment leaving him. Boba looks between the two of them for a second, a sudden feeling of fear coming from him in little waves.
Ben looks down at him and sees him playing with his hands, a little look of sadness creeping into his eyes.
“Are you alright Boba?” Ben asks quietly, trying not to worry him any more than he is. Fett looks down as well, a worry in his eyes to match.
“I just, I wanted to know what a Manda’lore was?” He asks stuttering, and his pronunciation of Manda’lore is a complete mess, making a small smile come to Fett’s face. Ben nods his head, letting his hands rest again behind his back.
“Mand’alore. The Manda’lore is the leader of Mandalore, a planet very far from here. It’s my home,” Fett says calmly, slowly pronouncing the name again before explaining what it is, squeezing Boba’s shoulder reassuringly as he does. Boba’s eyes flick between the two of them, his weariness slowly ebbing away, but his confusion still stubbornly staying.
“And you're the Manda’lore?” Boba asks. Ben looks to Fett, the same curiosity, and a little hope of his own that the bounty hunter could be the solution he needs, the one the Force was urging him towards. Fett shakes his head though, dampening that hope.
“No, my father, Jaster, he was. I’m not,” Fett answers quietly, his eye’s forward, and his feet steady as he keeps walking.