The Mandalorian ~ Reader Inserts

Intelligence

Summary: Intel reports always lacked important notes on ghosts.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2238

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Missions like these were complex.

Intricate ties of fate and luck that seemed to thread along your life were taut with strain. The task sounded much easier said than done. Gather intelligence on the Mandalorian and find a motive for him having a suspected Force Sensitive.

Boom. A one-sentence briefing was not really your specialty but here you were, wandering on a foreign planet, with an incredibly scratchy garment that was two sizes too big. At least you were able to keep your boots the same.

What really motivated you was the smell of cooking food and sizzling grills that made your mouth gush with longing.

Those standards ship rations were second to last on what you wanted to eat. They were dry, stale, and tasted like some Bantha had released its excrements on it. And the worst part was that they crumbled at the slightest touch. Your nice pressed uniform would be covered in those little pieces of the untasteful dessert.

Drifting towards a particularly interesting stand that had kababs as long as one's arm, you mentally slap yourself.

No, mission first.

But the food was so good looking.

No, you are on assignment.

Then again a little snack never hurt.

The glorious sun graciously made the usually sweltering planet surface nice and cool. The morning was still ripe and ready for the incoming heat at midday. Citizens of all kinds bobbled about: buying, selling, bargaining, eating... eating... eating.

Releasing an overly dramatic sigh - complete with a head-throw-back and back arch - you searched your overcoat's pockets for the datapad. The low sweeping hat you wore shielded your eyes as you tried to zone in on the finger-print covered screen.

A heartless mask was displayed along with the past coordinates of your next target.

Alongside that was... nothing. The last information gathering teams had come up empty. All they knew was that he had been in the vicinity of this planet for the last few days. Real, hardcore facts were up in the air of the little green fellow as well. The sides of countless pictures of them walking into numerous markets were empty and just waiting for you to fill them out.

Good. This would be easy, right. Might take some time but better than being on kitchen duty.

Finding the Mandalorian was no easy task. Yes, you were able to see his shiny domed helmet from meters away; it was the fact that he never seemed to stay in place was the real issue. You first saw him at a rotisserie booth. 

But when you strolled over there he was gone.

Then you saw him at a little stand that sold trinkets and baubles. Things most likely the child wanted. 

Yet once you went over there all that was left was the few galactic standard coins he left.

Damn him.

All-day, every single minute, he was on the move. Never making your job easy. Skills in interrogation and information-gathering were your thing. Though it was true you had just started a week ago and your first mission was trying to find someone's lost Loth cat.