Opportunity (Open)

Rhithia's eyebrows raised in surprise as Swindon placed the credit chip down by Blink, and the other Mandalorian stared at the object with eyes hidden behind her visor. The two of them were silent for a moment as Swindon headed back over to her cat. After a moment, Blink began speaking to Rhit in Mandalorian, and after a few sentences Rhit gave a small laugh, clearly amused by whatever Blink had said. The woman shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head. Seeming satisfied, Blink took the chip from where Swindon had placed it, and turned back to her work.

Rhit approached the table as Swindon stroked the cat, and began putting on her gauntlets. “So,” Rhit began as she began fitting her fingers into the purple trimmed metal fingers. “I guess we've got some things to teach you if you're going to work for the Syndicate. Usually we save the training until after you're officially hired, but seeing as you've thrown your lot in with us, Blink thinks it's best we start you off.” She finished with her gloves, and headed over to the rack of weapons, taking a standard blaster pistol off of it.

She came back with it, turning it around in her grip, holding onto the barrel and extending it for Swindon to take. “Ever fire one of these before? Mechanic or scientist, trader or soldier, everyone learns to fight with the Syndicate. You may never see combat, but in the event you do, Hierophant expects everyone to be able to hold their own. Don't worry, I'll be more patient then Fist.” From the sound of it, Fist would be the one in charge of training when they reached the rest of the Syndicate. Rhit gave her a small grin, waiting for her to take the blaster pistol.

Rhit pulled her helmet on while Swindon explained her thoughts, the helmet's armorweave mesh seeming to mold with that of the main body's. Once it was in place, there was a small click that came from the helmet, likely to indiciate its systems coming online. The featureless black visor turned back to Swindon, watching her pose with the pistol. If Rhit found it appaling, she said nothing, instead going over to the rack of weaponry and taking an identical blaster from the shelf. For the time being she ignored the dual pistols on her hips, clearly of a different model then that she had handed to Swindon.

Rhit nodded, seeming to understand. “Well, this isn't play. We've got training rifles for practicing operations at base, but that one in your hand is going to knock someone out for at least 5 minutes,” she explained, her voice now filtered through her helmet like the other two Mandalorians. She motioned for Swindon to follow her, not offering any sort of protective gear. She led her back into the temporary hangar, over to a spot where they could shoot at a corner without any risk of hitting the vehicles. Once they were there, she continued her explanation, holding up the replica of the gun she'd handed Swindon in her right hand.

“This is a DH-17 model blaster. Accurate up to 30 meters, armor piercing, semi automatic. It can be set to off, stun, or kill with this switch, ” she said, showing a switch on near the trigger, then demonstrating which position represented each of the different settings. “These ones have been modified so the shots give off a concussive blast. Illegal, but highly lethal. Your standard duratseel armor will get torn apart. Unless their armor is made out something like phrik or beskar, a single shot to the torso or head should be enough to take out a target. The general rule is don't stop shooting them until they're down on the ground, then put one more into them for good measure. You've got 500 shots before you have to reload, as these have an extended power pack,” she continued, tapping a small metal box on the side.

She pulled a similar box off her utility belt, holding it up so Swindon could get a better look at it. “You press this release here, remove the pack, then insert the fresh one.” Rhit took a moment to demonstrate, then tapped a small cylinder on the rear of the pistol. “This is your gas refill valve. You use this,” she explained, pulling a small cylinder off her utility belt this time, “ to refill it. Just insert this end into the valve, and it'll refill it. My HUD counts the shots I take and keeps me updated, but you'll know you need to reload when your gun stops firing.”

Rhit turned away from Swindon and towards the wall, replacing the objects on her belt before raising the pistol with one arm. “I'm sure you've seen those stances you played at earlier somewhere or another, but this is the proper way. Arm out, and solid. Grip firm, wrist pointed like so. Keep your arm level with your shoulder, one foot forward and torso twisted at this angle.” Rhit took her time demonstrating the pose, her chest turned nearly sideways, the top of the gun nearly level with her head. “You're a smaller target like this, and the recoil – small as it is – is distributed throughout your body. Keep the pistol level, and you can see through the sight here. Until you're experienced enough to know where your blaster is going to shoot, you'll need to use the sight if you want to hit anything.”

“Alternatively, you can stand like,” she turned her torso back inwards slightly, moving one foot forward a bit and bringing her other hand up to the pistol. “At the beginning it can be difficult to stay accurate with the one handed stance, so this will give you more control. Again keep your arms level with your shoulder, and the blaster should rest just so. When you ready to fire, you can use your thumb to turn the blaster on to the desired setting, take aim, then fire.” Her words finished with the retort of the blaster pistol, a red laser streaking from the barrel and slamming into the wall of the hangar. Rhit stepped away, her thumb flicking the blaster back to the off position.

“That's the basics, at least. Now, your turn. Practice the stance, then try and hit the same place I shot.” On the wall where the laser had collided, there was a black burn mark on the metal, painting the location Rhit had fired upon. “It's not the same as shooting at a moving target, but it'll be good enough to give you a feel for the weapon.”

Rhit watched Swindon from behind her visor, arms crossed expectantly. After Swindon took the shot and asked if it was close enough, she shrugged, gesturing to the wall with the blaster. “Depends on what you're shooting at,” Rhit said, not seeming to notice Swindon's smile. First shot or not, it didn't seem as though it would be easy to impress – or even satisfy – the Mandalorian, friendly as she might be. There was an air of seriousness to her now, the ease she had displayed before seeming to have vanished with her face. Likely, the Mandalorian took pride in her trade, and if she was part of a team of assassins then shooting would definitely fall under the job description.

Still, she continued to take her time explaining, obviously passionate about her skill set despite her opinions on Swindon's shooting. “If you're aiming for someone's chest, then yes. Someone's head, or weapon, then maybe not. Furthermore, you don't have any armor and while those stances give you the best accuracy, neither are that great for being used from behind cover. Not to mention your targets won't usually be standing still in the open either. But that's not important right now, we just want you to get a feel for the thing.”

Rhit took another few shots at the wall, putting another three burn marks in a square pattern about two feet away from each other. “Keep practicing. You won't get good with just a single shot. And this time, try controlling your breathing. Your torso moves when you breath, so it makes slight changes to where you're aiming. If you fire in between your breaths, you'll find yourself more accurate. There's no way to be perfect, but that should help.”

Rhit pulled up one of the larger storage crates and put the lid on, using it as a chair. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees while she watched Swindon. “Once you feel comfortable at that range, move back a few meters and keep at it. Remember it'll hit whatever you're aiming at up to thirty meters away without any error on the weapons part. Any further then that, you'll have some slight variation. The Republic likes to mock Stormtroopers for how inaccurate they were, but I'm convinced the range on an E-11 rifle should be closer to thirty meters also, not three hundred.”

Rhithia watched Swindon patiently as she took the shots, staying silent all the while until Swindon tried making small talk. She leaned up and looking away, as if searching for something, but spoke softly. “Canteen's aren't so bad. That was my first job on my own. A little flirting and a few winks, and the tips weren't bad as long as you didn't give the wrong person the wrong impression.” There was likely a story behind that somewhere, though Rhit didn't continue on any further.

She shook her head at Swindon's giggle, likely a smile hidden beneath that black,t-shaped visor of hers. “Firing's easy. Firing well under pressure, not so much. But there's no way to get you used to that here. I'm no teacher, just spouting off things my instructor told me when I joined the Syndicate. Come on, that's enough for now,” Rhit announced, standing up and rolling her neck.

“We need to get whatever you want to take with you from your home, and we can pick up lunch for everyone after that.” Rhit moved towards the airspeeder, leaving the blaster she'd taken for demonstration sitting by the empty crate. The weapons on her utility belt and those on her wrists would likely be more then enough fire power for a fight, though she looked over her shoulder as she neared the black speeder.

“You can hold onto that blaster if you want. I don't think you'll need it, but I always feel better with a way to defend myself.” She climbed into the speeder after that, turning the thing on and waiting for Swindon to follow. On closer inspection, the airspeeder was a Narglatch XJ-2, the Narglatch logo clear on the front of the vehicle. Its paintjob was no surprise, given that just about everything the Mandalorians here used was painted black. An oddity however was that the speeder did not appear to be equipped with any form of weaponry, and the airspeeder definitely looked to be meant more as a luxury vehicle then as one the Mandalorian might use to move around.

Rhit gave her a nod when Swindon asked whether or not she knew where Swindon lived. It was fairly clear by this point that the Syndicate team had done at least a basic background check on Swindon after their first interaction with the girl, as though the surveillance wasn't enough already. She waited patiently why Swindon gave the speeder a quick appraisal, the speeder raising further off the ground and departing the hangar once they were both safely in the vehicle.

With a few clicks on the main screen, Rhithia set the vehicles autopilot to Swindon's home, leaning back to relax once the airspeeder was moving of its own accord. It sped through the air, through the same tunnels and past the same locales that Swindon had passed when first arriving with Homicide, eventually ascending into the thoroughfare tunnel as it headed for their destination.

“When I first joined,” Rhit started, aiming to make some conversation. “I felt like I was capable of so much more. When the Syndicate confronted me, it was definitely an escape, but they didn't seem so. . . questionable at the time. I know we don't look the best, certainly not in the circumstances.” She turned to look at Swindon, face obscured behind the black and purple helmet.

“You had a clear history from what the CSF has on you. You're extremely cheerful, especially for someone willing to hop on board with a band of mercenaries you know little to nothing about. To cut to the chase, I can't read you. What are you looking to get out of this? What's your motivation.”

---

Blink's helmet tilted to the side slightly, likely taking the cat into her peripheral vision. Slowly, she extended one gauntleted finger to scratch the cats head. “Best you not going exploring,” Blink said, helmet moving back to focus on her work. She spoke as if the cat could understand her, not that she likely had any such illusions. “People on this level are more likely to catch you and eat you as to pet you or feed you.” That was all the attention Blink gave the cat for the time being, a news report's details on the killing of a senator coming to life as Blink switched its audio on for her ongoing search of information.

---

Detective Stormrider was sat at his desk, browsing through useless reports and details of the senator's assassination. They had managed to link the weapon to at least two other killings that had taken place within the last month, though with nothing more then a similar operating procedure. Even the senator's death they couldn't prove was linked to that Mandalorian if they couldn't find the disruptor rifle the man had used. And like as not, he was off planet by now.

The few leads his team had gathered all turned up nothing and less as to where the man might have gone, or if anyone had even aided him. Startled, he leaned back in his chair, an alert flashing on his computer. They'd flagged every person spoken with in their search. Standard procedure, not that they'd gotten any leads from any of them. Still, assassins of this caliber weren't likely to leave any witnesses that might link them later on. There were hundreds of unsolved cases each month, though not many were this high profile. With a hope against hope, he opened the file, and grinned when he saw the results.

One of the mechanics he'd checked with had been reported missing by her boss. The place was in shambles according to the report, with all of the electronics fried. Most likely the girl was dead by now, dumped in a trash compactor never to be found. For as many murders as were reported, nearly ten times as many missing person reports went unsolved as well. But being the only lead he had, he alerted his team, and the few of them began scouring every last detail of the young mechanic's life. . . .

Rhit remained silent as Swindon gave her monologue, and when she finished, the Mandalorian remained silent, thoughtful. Something in Swindon's short speech seemed to have satisfied her – for the moment at least – and she took back manual control of the speeder. The alleyway wasn't exactly the best docking point, but it was better then nothing and just large enough to fit. Rhit shrugged as Swindon spoke ill of her apartment, hopping out of the side of the airspeeder.

“It'll be safe here,” she said, referring to how dangerous it usually was to leave a vehicle of this caliber alone in a back alley such as the one they had landed in. “Systems got protocols even I can't hack,” she announced, giving the airspeeder a reassuring pat. Likely the mercenary had left it in much more questionable locations then the current one, judging by how low their hideout was in Coruscant's underworld. “Lead the way,” she said, and was soon following Swindon up to her apartments.

She spoke as they headed to the elevator and up to Swindon's aparment, clearly having reflected on the things the younbg mechanic had told her. “You really are innocent, you know that?Most with your upbringing would have given up hope on something more. I used to think that my position in life had nothing to do with my personal motivation. My own drive. It wasn't until I joined the Syndicate that I learned differently. Luck is only a combination of preparation and action. There is no predisposition to success, only the action one takes to achieve their ambition.”

“You could have done more, true, but when opportunity came, you seized it. You created something of value, and when someone who could help you make use of it offered, you took it, regardless of the risk involved. A risk that shows your ignorance of the galaxy. Do not take offense, I do not mean it as such. I too knew little and less when I first joined. I was not born a Mandalorian, as Blink and Homicide were, so I understand your position better then they.”

She continued speaking as they reached Swindon's apartment, closing the door behind her as she continued the makeshift lesson. “You have a lot to learn, and one will be appointed to teach you, among others, when we reach the rest of the Syndicate. But I suppose I can teach you a little so they don't treat you as a fool when they start. . . .” She seemed amused at that, the tone of her filtered voice hinting that she thought as much a grand joke.

“And where to start, at that. . . . We call ourselves the Ramikad Syndicate. But we are Mandalorian. An important distinction there. To be Mandalorian is to adhere to the Resol'nare, to live as a Mandalorian would live. It is the core of our beliefs and the tenants of our life. We are a culture, without bloodline or species.”

“Hierophant is Mandalorian, but the Syndicate is hers. Her true name is Eso'tal Ramikadyc, where the Syndicate's name comes from. In Mando'a – our language – Ramikadyc is a sense of. . . .” Rhit struggled then trying to translate the word, which she had clearly not thought of in some time. “Confidence and endurance, ferocity and determination. It is the attitude that one can achieve any objective, that they can do anything they desire. It is the mindset of what you would call a Commando, which we call a Ramikad. And so, we are the Ramikad Syndicate, to represent our status as the elite warrior organization that we are. We are not just bounty hunters or assassins, criminals or mercenaries. The Syndicate is comprised of some of the best warriors in the galaxy. And those who have proven themselves as the best of the best, they shed their old names and take up new ones given to them. That is why Blink is Blink, Homicide is Homicide, and Hierophant is Hierophant. It is considered a great honor in the Syndicate to achieve this. They become the Ori'ramikad. . . A supercommando, if you will. The elite of the elite.”

Rhit paused, then, visor planted on Swindon, as though the woman was unsure on whether or not she was making any sense. Sure enough she voiced her concerns, her helmet titlted sideway in question. “I hope I'm making sense with all of this. As I said, I am not a very good teacher, and I know it was difficult for me when I was dar'manda.” Another Mandalorian word, of the hundred Swindon had heard today, though Rhithia seemed not to notice. For every ounce of information she gave, her use of this Mando'a gave three words for every one she tried to explain.

Rhit crossed her arms and leaned to one side slightly, seeming skeptical when Swindon called what she had done easy. Likely there was a look of incredulity to her face, though the T-shaped visor hid that, as always. Still, despite any doubts the Mandalorian might have had, she said nothing, and watched while Swindon resumed packing for her departure. When Swindon asked whether or not Rhit had an 'elite' name, the woman shook her head. Her answe came in a flat tone, and it was unclear whether or not she was bothered by the answer.

“No, I don't have an Ori'ramikad title. I'm very skilled at keeping track of equipment, figuring out what's wrong when something malfunctions. I'm a great shot, and I've got plenty of kills of my own, but that isn't enough to be considered Ori'ramikad. On of the founders of the Syndicate – Judge – he typically makes the final decision on whether or not someone's worthy of the title. If you've not noticed yet, they aren't exactly imaginative names.” She chuckled at that, then sighed slightly. “Still, as I said it's a great honor.”

Rhit stopped speaking as a particularly forceful knock came at the door, and she spun to face the door. After a few seconds, the knock sounded again, and her hand went to her pistol. “You expecting a visitor?” Rhit asked, glancing at Swindon for a moment. In another moment any answer was unnecessary, as a third pounding on the door came, this time with voice accompaniment.

“CSF! Anyone in there!? Open up!”

As soon as the words were through the door frame, Rhit had a blaster out, pointed directly at the doorway. All the relaxation had went out of her, and there was more similarity between her and Homicide then just the armor. She was in a stance vaguely reminiscent of the one she had taught Swindon before their departure, but Rhit had coiled, knees bent slightly arms bent inwards at her elbows. She seemed ready to fight and run all at once, and was likely capable of doing just that. “I don't suppose you have a back way out of here?” she asked quietly, glancing at Swindon again quickly.

“You hear something? I think there's someone in there,” a muffled voice came from the other side of the door, followed by another banging knock on the door. The voice was shouting this time, likely drawing the attention of neighbors at this point now. “CSF!! OPEN UP!!”