weaponry ; the mandalorian

II : FIFTEEN

Killshot turns, blaster raising itself as she faces the one who had entered the room who does not flinch.

Killshot recognizes the figure of the woman.

Slowly, she places the weapon back in its holster, "Yes."

"Do you know who you are?"

The assassin's response is immediate, "Killshot."

"Do you know who I am?"

"My Handler," Killshot utters as the word presents itself to her, she looks around the windowless room, the blank white walls giving her no clue as to where she is, "How long was I asleep?"

The Handler smiles, "Far too long, my Child. But it's good to see you as you were meant to be."

"How long have I..." Killshot trails off, trying to find the words that evade her, "Why can't I remember?"

"It's for your own good. What do you want to know?"

"I remember being dispatched from Nevarro," Killshot breathes, "Partnered with- with a," There's no word that comes her mind, the absence scares her.

"A Mandalorian," The Handler finishes, folding her hands behind her back, "He ruined you."

Killshot knows this isn't the truth, "No. No, that's not-" Killshot is stopped by a harsh jolt, her neck spasming from the pain, and her eyes squeeze closed as the thoughts are wiped from her.

The Handler's voice suddenly changes, becoming hard and cold, "You are not to think of him again."

Another brief zap, and Killshot pants from the fading sensation, catching her breath that had hitched, "He ruined me."

"Yes. Who do you serve?"

"The Empire," Killshot answers, but the words aren't her own, and when she speaks the implant behind her ear buzzes, not painful, but uncomfortable, her voice belongs to it, "Long live the Empire."

The Handler's grin widens, her eyes gleaming with something Killshot doesn't recognize, "Yes, my dear. Long live the Empire. Now come with me," The Handler says, gesturing to the door in a formal manner, "Our Leader has a mission for you."

Killshot follows the Handler through the threshold into the hallways. Soldiers in white armour the implant tells her are stormtroopers let their eyes follow the woman as she passes by. The posture she holds confident and unwavering, but her eyes are clouded - controlled. She's one of them now.

Each stretch of hallway looks the same, dark and grey, and when they finally reach the bridge, Killshot doesn't look to any of the workers whose gazes sticks to her. The entire crew seems to have stopped upon her entrance.

When he turns, the implant seems to harshly vibrate again, telling her who she stands before, "Moff Gideon."

"Killshot," The man, her superior, greets, a smirk on his lips as his eyes move to the Handler, "Looks like your procedure was a success, Agne."

"There are a few lapses that the implant has yet to correct, but she will be perfect, Moff Gideon, this I can swear," The Handler excitedly explains, taking a stance beside the leader.

"Let's test that, shall we?"

Then, Moff Gideon reaches into a small pocket in his dark, armoured, uniform, making Killshot set a defensive hand on her blaster. He pulls out a chain, walking up to the assassin, "Do you recognize this?"

He allows Killshot to take the medallion from him, and her eyes scan over the small circular metal, she furrows her brows slightly, seeing what looks like a Mudhorn inscribed on the surface. The sight of it makes her heart pick up in her chest, and she doesn't know why.