Building a Mandalorian

[Dax Calvo]

(This RP is intended as a monologue at first, until it catches up to the present. I'll clearly denote when its ready for people to jump in.)

Flickering lights. Dirty, eroded metal walls. Faces of rust. Emotionless, glowing eyes. These are the only things that Huntar Nyne can remember about his past. These, and the story his buir told him, of how he came to join the Mando'ade.

* * * * *

8 Months ago...

Ker'am Nyne works the fields of his family farm on Concord Dawn. He was raised there, before joining the Mando'ade. A battle there cost him his family, but the man who would become his buir adopted him, took him in, and raised him as his own.

Years later, Ker'am bought the old farm from a local landowner who'd claimed it after Ker'am's family died. He retired there after a battlefield injury made it so that he could barely move at normal speeds anymore. Now, he grows food for his clan.

Even retired from active battle and with a lame leg, Ker'am keeps in shape. He practices with his vode and keeps his senses sharp. That is why he notices them coming.

Three assassins. Two are droids, antique HK-50s from the looks of them, refurbished into working order. The other human, seemingly in charge. Ker'am reaches to his belt, where even now he keeps a blaster pistol. No true Mandalorian would remain unarmed, even a retired one at home on his farm. However, he is out of his Beskar'gam, as it would hinder his farming. He can barely dodge with his leg injury, and he cannot take a hit outside his armor either, at his age.

"We'll accept your surrender, Ker'am Nyne," the human says. "Of course, we'll also accept your death should you resist."

[Dax Calvo]

Ker'am may be old and slow, but he's the best shot ever to come out of his aliit. He knows that he can take out both of the tinnies, and should first. The human might be their leader, but those machines are usually equipped with reflexes beyond what any human could accomplish, and that makes them dangerous.

"If I die, I do so for the glory of Mandalore," Ker'am says back, calmly, before leaping to the side, planting three shots into the droids. One is hit in one eye, destroying its ability to gauge distances, making it far less of a threat. The other is hit twice in the torso, once blasting a whole in its chassis, the second shot sending its power core critical. By the time Ker'am hits the ground, the second HK-50 explodes, further damaging the first.

Ker'am hurts, his body too old for such a sudden drop, but he doesn't let it slow him down. He turns his head, and blaster, to face the droids' human leader, but he is not there. How could he move so fast? So fast Ker'am couldn't see it?

Ker'am feels the tapping of a blaster barrell against the back of his head. "Game over, Ker'am."

Ker'am smiles, and shakes his head, feeling the barrell move side to side a bit. Good, the assassin is too cocky, his gun not planted firmly. In one motion, not as smooth as Ker'am used to be able to do, but swift nonetheless, Ker'am moves his head again, and darts to one side. The assassin fires, but the shot goes wild as Ker'am gets to his knees and draws a vibrodagger from his boot. A slash later, and blood hits Ker'am's face as his assailant drops.

Ker'am aims for the assassin's head as the assassin draws a bead on him. He feels his opponent's blaster bolt go through his shoulder, but he sees his bolt hit the enemy in the head. Just before he blacks out from the pain, he can swear that he sees sparks come from the other man's head.

[Dax Calvo]

Seven Months ago...

"I'm not going to help you keep your would-be assassin alive, Ker'am! If anything, I want to shoot the aruetii and be done with it!"

Ker'am Nyne glares at his brother, "I'm asking you this as your tat, Mirshe. Buir named you for your 'brains', but you aren't thinking, here." Ker'am looks down at the man he'd shot, who's been comatose for weeks now. Ker'am's knowledge in battlefield medicine has kept him alive so far, but its been touch and go and his brother, a true doctor, is more than capable of keeping him alive.

"Don't bring our buir into this, Ker'am! Just... don't.," Mirshe always gets resentful when Ker'am mentions their father.

"He'd have wanted you to help me."

"Of course he would, he loved you more!"

There it is, the reason that Ker'am and Mirshe barely speak anymore. Mirshe is the biological son of the man who'd adopted Ker'am, and always felt that he loved Ker'am more. "He would because if you don't, I'll never know who wants me dead. Its only a matter of time before they send more assassins. If we can get this aruetii awake, we can find the hut'uun who ordered him to kill me."

Mirshe grumbles and turns his back on his brother and the man who, weeks ago, had led a pair of assassin droids to his brother's home. "I resent you, but I don't hate you, Ker'am. This man tried to kill you, he should die for that!"

Ker'am walks over to his brother, laying a hand upon the man's shoulder, "I know. But if we don't get this information out of him, someone else may come to finish the job."

Mirshe shrugs Ker'am's hand off of his shoulder and walks over to the comatose man. "He's healing well. The vibroblade wound is barely even scarring and his head is healing as well. I don't know how he survived a shot like that to his head, the left side of his brain ought to be mush, now."

"I know, but I'm glad he survived. This means we can get-"

"It doesn't," Mirshe interrupts. "It doesn't mean that. He's suffered a blaster shot to the head. He's likely undergone severe brain damage. Even if he wakes up, if he ever does, he's not likely to remember much at all." Mirshe walks to the door, looking back just before leaving. "He's already dead, ner'tat. Let him go." Mirshe pulls the door shut behind him as he leaves.

Ker'am spends hours watching over his assassin's body. He knows that Mirshe knows far more about medicine, about the worksings of the body, than he does. If he says this coma is likely indefinate, it probably is. After a long period of contemplation, Ker'am reaches to unplug the simple machines that have been breathing for the man.

Ker'am gets up to head towrd the door, to let the man die alone, as he deserves, when suddenly, he hears him gasp for breath.

"Question: Where am I?"

[Dax Calvo]

Ker'am had let the man rest, breathing on his own but still too weak to move from the bed, and came to him the next day.

"Statement: I remember you. You were here yesterday. Who are you?" The man asks, as Ker'am enters the room.

Ker'am scowls. "I will be the one asking the questions here! You called me by my name a month ago, when you tried to kill me. Who are YOU? Who sent you... why do they want me dead?"

The man on the bed looks down, confused, at himself. "I believe I am Hunter-Killer droid model HK-98. That is what my memory is telling me, but its telling me little else."

"Droid? You're human, not a droid."

"Oh? What is a droid, sir? My memory says that I am one, but perhaps you know better?"

Ker'am balls up a fist, readying to attack the man who'd tried to take his life. Perhaps more aggressive interrogation techniques would be necissary. "A droid is a machine. Not a living thing, like you." Ker'am grabs the man by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to him. "Now, I ask again, who are you?"

"I am Hunter-Killer Droid model-"

Ker'am backhands the man in front of him, who keeps insisting that he is a droid. As the man falls back onto the bed, Ker'am rushes toward him, losing his cool, wrapping his hands around the man's throat to choke him. "Tell me who you are and who sent you to kill me!"

The man coughs out the same response between choked breaths. This time, the only parts audible are "Hunter" and "Nine".

Ker'am releases his throat and steps back, glaring at the man. "No. No no no. I'l getting Mirshe over here, he'll know what to do with you... 'droid'."

[Dax Calvo]

Mirshe got right on his speeder to rush over to Ker'am's farm as soon as he got his brother's call. As he parks the speeder, he can see Ker'am pacing outside, unharmed. If he's unharmed though, why did his call sound so urgent?

"Good, you're here, Mirshe," Ker'am says, stopping his pacing to walk to the door. He pauses when his hand touches the doorknob. "He's awake."

Mirshe raises one eyebrow in disbelief. "You don't mean... the assassin is awake?"

Ker'am nods and opens the door. The assassin is now tied down to the bed, in case he finds the strength to move, and much to Mirshe's surprise, he is indeed awake.

"Who is he, Ker'am? Who sent him?"

"I don't know. He doesn't know. Claims to be an assassin droid."

"But he's clearly-"

"I know," Ker'am replies, cutting his brother off. "But that isn't the weirdest part." Ker'am walks to the assassin's side, looking down at him. "Tell him who you are, aruetii."

The assassin nods before beginning to reply. "I am Hunter-Killer droid mod-"

"NO!" Ker'am cuts him off, smacking the assassin's face hard enough that it begins to welt up immediately. "Not that. The parts that you managed to say while I was choking you."

Mirshe steps forward. "Ker'am..."

"Quiet, ner'tat. Now, 'droid', tell him what you said your name was."

The assassin looks puzzled, but nods. "Hunter. Nine."

Mirshe's eyes grow wide with recognition, and he steps backward toward the door. Ker'am notes this. "Say it again, without pause. As if it were your name."

"Hunter Nine."

"Buir..." Mirshe says, as Ker'am walks toward him. "Our father's name was Huntar Nyne..."

"I know, Mirshe. I know," Ker'am places him hand on his brother' shoulder. "He seems not to remember anything other than his, er, droid model number. I want you to look him over, scan him, whatever you have to do. Find out what, if anything, he's hiding from us." Ker'am looks back at the assassin. "This can't be coincidence."

Mirshe nods. "It could be a while before I can make enough sense of the data to determine his memory loss, but we'll see what I can do, ner'tat. I won't let this sick di'kut sit there and tarnish Huntar'buir's name like this."

[Dax Calvo]

Six Months ago...

Ker'am has barely spoken to his brother in the last month. The spare room in which he has been keeping "Huntar Nyne" has become a laboratory of sorts. His brother, the few times he's seen him, has seemed simultaneously excited and terrified, and has refused to tell Ker'am anything until he is absolutely certain.

"Ker'am," Mirshe's voice calls, from within the room. "Ker'am, I know you're out there. Come in, I have... results."

Ker'am opens the door to that spare room and steps inside. He sees screens and devices of all sorts, most he does not understand but most he does not even recognize. Mirshe was the clan scientist, however, it makes sense for him to understand this stuff. "Okay, so what is it. What does he remember?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. You damaged his hard drive," Mirshe looks back at Ker'am, a slight smirk on his face.

"What's... is that a body part?" Ker'am looks back, his face contorted with confusion. "Sounds like a part of a machine."

"Exactly!" Mirshe says, sounding excited. "His brain is supplemented with a hard drive, a computer brain. The same used in a droid."

Ker'am narrows his eyes. "What?"

"His brain is half human, half droid. He survived the shot to the head because the logical half of his brain, the left side, was replaced at some point with a hard drive, a droid brain." Mirshe lets this set in a few moments. "And that's not all!"

Ker'am grunts. "Why do you seem so... happy... about all of this?"

"Happy? Osik, Ker'am, this is ori'kandosii, this is very cutting-edge stuff. I might not have been the one who made this guy the way he is, but I'm the one that has discovered it. Now, come over here, look at this screen."

Ker'am rolls his eyes, but then follows Mirshe as he rolls in his chair to another computer monitor. 'Huntar' continues to sleep, as he has for most of the last month, sedated so as to allow Mirshe to do his tests. Ker'am looks, and he sees swirling patterns, two of them, one on each side of the screen. "Okay, what is this?"

Mirshe sighs. "This is a mapping of human genetic data. The left side is my own, the right side is... 'Huntar's'." Mirshe waits for a realization that does not arrive. "Well? Do you see it?"

"See what?"

"How could our buir have raised two sons who are this different?" Mirshe asks, before hitting a few keys to overlay one genetic strand over the other. "What about now?"

Ker'am takes a few minutes to try to notice whatever it is that Mirshe wants him to see. He spots something but he doesn't know what it could mean. "Yours seems more... random. His is, like, more of a line."

"Exactly, ner'tat, I knew you could see it," Mirshe responds, proudly. "This man is made up of synthetic, vat-grown parts. If you look closely, he's covered in a web of faint scars, I think that's where they sewed his parts together. But this screen... this screen is what really explains it."

"So he's what... a clone?"

Mirshe laughs. "No, Ker'am. He's a droid."

Ker'am walks away, heading for the door. "I thought you had something important to show me, not play games with my head."

"No, I mean it, brother. What is a droid? Perhaps you know better than I?"

Ker'am turns and glares at Mirshe, remembering when 'Huntar' asked almost that exact same question. "A droid is a machine. Parts built to a schematic, put together in a factory, run by a computer. Programmed to do a task. Servants. Toys. Machines."

Mirshe smiles and nods. "Genetics are a schematic. These genes are too perfect, too well-aligned. Nature doesn't align genes this way, not even the Force aligns genes like this. This was designed. Someone laid out this mans genes, custom-crafted a human. Grew his parts in vats and put them together in what you might as well call a factory. Half of his brain is a computer. He doesn't want to kill you anymore because he was programmed to, and he lost that program when you shot him in his hard drive." Mirshe watches as his brother starts to understand. "All living things are machines, ones created by nature and the Force. Droids are machines made by living things. This man is a droid."

[Dax Calvo]

Weeks pass. Ker'am presses Mirshe to search the droid's hard drive for anything that is left, anything that might give a clue as to who built him, or who sent him to kill Ker'am. He finds nothing but highly-encrypted data which he cannot seem to access.

The droid, in the meantime, tries to learn all he can from the two Mandalorians. He is a blank slate at this point, he knows nothing other than his model number, how to speak basic, and the necissary motor skills to be able to move around and function. Ker'am and Mirshe do eventually let him use these motor skills, once they are certain that the droid truly poses no threat. They never put their backs to him or go without blasters at their sides though, just in case.

The two Mando'ade continue to call the droid 'Huntar', at first just because they need something to call him, but in time they come to see it as his name. Huntar follows them around, and gladly volunteers for any tests to determine who he really is, where he comes from or who sent him.

He also begins to pick up a word or two here and there in Mando'a. In time, he begins to ask about their lives, their culture. He wants to learn what it is to be a Mandalorian.

"You can't teach him our ways, ner'tat."

Ker'am crosses his arms and stares at Mirshe, unfazed. "Why not?"

"He's a droid, Ker'am," Mirshe responds. "A tinnie, a machine. He's less than aruetii, brother."

"He is not. I declare him dar'beskar'ad," Ker'am says back. "His programming has been wiped, and other than that, he's now just a lost boy with nothing to do. He needs guidance, he needs purpose, and I'm going to give that to him."

"You can't be serious."

"Explanation: He is, Mirshe," Huntar responds, having come into the room. "I remember little, only who I am and that I was made to... to kill. An assassin droid. An undercover one, that's why I look human." Huntar looks down at his own hand, flexing it and turning it, as though unsure of what exactly it is. He curls his fingers into a fist, then looks up at the doubting Mandalorian. "I... want to kill. Its my purpose for living. But, I don't want a master anymore. I want a reason to kill. You two killed once, and you had reasons. I want your reasons. I want to kill like you did."

Mirshe gestures toward Huntar while still looking at Ker'am. "See? He wants to kill just to kill! He's still programmed, even without coding and scripts running in his droid brain."

"He wants to kill, right now, because it is all that he knows," Ker'am responds. "I'm going to teach him more than that." Ker'am walks over to Huntar, and lays his hand on his shoulder. "I declare this boy Huntar Nyne, my son."

Mirshe's face twists into a rage-filled scowl. "You dare!? You want not only to take this thing into our family, but to give it my father's name!?"

Ker'am steps forward, right into Mirshe's face. "Our buir, Mirshe, and I'm not giving him this name. It was his name already. I called you here to bear witness to his adoption. Starting today, he joins the Mando'ade." Ker'am softens his expression, looking at his brother. "Please, trust me on this. I've got a... feeling... this is right."

"I have a feeling about this too, ner'tat." Mirshe responds, as he heads for the door. He stops in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. "A bad one."