weaponry ; the mandalorian

I : ONE

The Mandalorian keeps his guard up as he steps into the building, following a dim light down a hallway towards another door. Pausing for it to slide open, storm troopers are revealed, making him tense up as they turn to face him. Without saying a word, the bounty hunter steps into the room, his attention honed in on the blasters in the soldier's hands.

"Greef Karga said you were coming," An old man says from behind a desk, gaining the Mandalorians gaze. He's ex-empire. The client's voice is high and almost melodical, nevertheless unsettling.

Through his helmet, the Mandalorian continues to stare down the stormtroopers as he carries himself closer to the desk, "What else did he say?"

"He said you were the best in the Parsec."

Then, a door opens, and without hesitating the Mandalorian rips his amban rifle off of his back, as well as his blaster from its holster, aiming one weapon with a deadly accuracy at the entryway, the other at one of the soldiers, causing the stormtroopers to aim their blasters at the armoured bounty hunter, calling for him to lower his weapons. The man who had entered, small with glasses almost as big as his face, yells out in protest.

"No!" The man calls as he cowers, "No, no, no, no. Pardon, uh, sorry. I didn't mean to alarm."

The client stands from his chair, a steady hand raised, "This is Doctor Pershing," He introduces, giving the small man a name as he moves around his desk towards the Mandalorian, "Please excuse his lack of decorum. His enthusiasm outweighs his discretion. Please lower your blaster."

"Have them lower theirs first," The bounty hunter immediately growls out, his focus remaining on the room of empirical soldiers with their guns trained on him.

"We have you four to one," A trooper threatens.

The Mandalorian isn't phased, "I like those odds."

The client steps forward, "He also said you were expensive," He lowly utters, referring again to a conversation with Greef Karga, "Very expensive. Please sit."

When the client steps away, he motions to his troopers, having them lower their weapons. In return, the Mandalorian puts his blaster back into its holster, moving towards a chair and sitting with his pulse rifle over his lap. His guard will not be down as long as he is in this building.

Silently, the client slides a black cloth across the desk, slowly unfolding it to reveal something that makes the Mandalorians breath hitch in his throat ever so slightly.

"Beskar?" He hopefully wonders at the sight of the metal.

The client nods, "Go ahead. It's real," So, the Mandalorian picks it up off the table, inspecting it, "This is only a downpayment. I have a camtono of Beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the asset."

"Alive," The Doctor interjects, making the bounty hunter glance at him for a moment.

"Yes," The client confirms, "Alive. Although I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination is acceptable for a lower fee."

Doctor Pershing tenses right away at the client's words, "That is not what we agreed upon."

"I'm simply being pragmatic, Doctor. Please, go prepare K.S." Nodding at the client's demand, the Doctor exits though the door he came in through.

The Mandalorian's helmet tilts slightly in confusion, "K.S.?"

The smallest of smirks graces the Client's lips, and makes a knot of uneasiness grow in the Mandalorian's stomach, "K.S. is a form of insurance of ours to guarantee the safe delivery of the asset."