The Gun Song [Invite]

[Natasi Fortan]

It was early for Natasi, but comparatively late for the rest of the working world on Dosuun, when she finally wrapped up her daily tasks for the day. It was only 2000 hours -- eight o'clock -- when Natasi set her stylus down and pressed the intercom down. Sioux Chambers came in and, as was her ritual, sat in one of the seats across from Natasi for a short debrief and a quick discussion on what Natasi would do the next day.

"Are you feeling well, ma'am?" asked Sioux quietly.

"I'm perfectly well," Natasi said, sliding on a pair of glasses to examine the fine print on a document, absent-mindedly dismissing her assistant's concern. "Why do you ask?" She flipped the pages, finding a specific section and re-reading to determine whether the edits she had requested were made. She was pleased; they had been made.

Sioux cleared her throat. "Well, it's only... it's early for you to be leaving work."

"Yes," Natasi said, again with her voice far away and dismissive. "Oh. No, I'm going to the firing range at the South Cliff base. Self-defense training. But we're done for the day, right?"

"Of course. Very well, I'll see that these get sent." Natasi stopped Sioux and handed over the contract she had been examining. "Thank you, ma'am. Good night."

Natasi returned the greeting before siting down again to save the work on her computer before standing up and leaving her suite of offices. As she rode the turbolift down to the speeder level, Natasi texted [member="Darell Irani"] on her datapad: Possibly home earlier than normal. Call @ 2130? x The chime buzzed and the doors slid open, and Natasi's plainclothesmen joined her stride as they walked across the carpark to her airspeeder.

The trip to the South Cliff base was short, for the base was built within sight of the vast Palace complex that housed the Moff's offices. She was greeted at the security checkpoint by the base's commandant, who had agreed to turn over use of their facilities to Natasi after hours. [member="Amin Garith"] had kindly agreed to show her the ropes, and she was anxious to get started. She would meet him at the Quartermaster's office, so they could select the appropriate weapons to try.

 

[Davin Jusik]

Amin greeted [member="Natasi Fortan"] with a small grin and handshake as the Moff approached him.

"Ma'am." He said in a slightly chipper tone.

The Moff had sent a request through Stormtrooper Command for an experienced trainer, one that had a combination of experience and training few could claim. Ironically, one of the newer members of the Officer Corp turned out to be the only one with such qualifications who was available at the time. It was also a bit odd that Amin happened to have met Natasi the very day he'd joined the order. Most folk would call that a coincidence. Amin had already laid a selection of First Order Standards out for the Moff and dismissed the Quartermaster for the time allotted for the training.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"Lieutenant," Natasi said pleasantly as she shook hands with him. "It's a pleasure to see you again. And my, haven't you been making a name for yourself since last we met? I've heard only good things."

The Moff leaned over the counter, examining the weapons that [member="Amin Garith"] had laid out for their lesson today. She couldn't identify them by name (a pitiful failure for a Moff, she knew) but that would hopefully all be changing soon. "What have you got planned for me tonight, Lieutenant?" The Moff was dressed in a conservative ensemble of black slacks and a white blouse, with sensible shoes, so she wasn't concerned about mobility, but still she wondered if she was appropriately clad.

"Ought I to change next time, or will I do? I have some gym clothes somewhere but didn't think to bring them this time."

 

[Davin Jusik]

[member="Natasi Fortan"]
Amin eyed the woman before him carefully. Taking note of her features, analyzing her physique. He hadn't really remembered much of the Moff from their brief visit previously. Her eyes were slightly crossed and the echo of a disguised scar was discernable to the trained eye. The scar reminded him of his deceased wife's, briefly, before she'd died with her guts in his arms.

A brief flash of raw emotion flashed across Amin's eyes before he locked the feeling away.

He hesitated briefly before speaking, regaining his baring as he did.

"Well. For someone in a position such as yours, you'd want something duelly concealable but powerful. Something that will offset your natural limitations and put whoever may be attacking you at a false ease before they strike. For that I recommend this." He picked up a small blaster pistol with a modified pack, providing it with near D model level power. Something that could fit in the palm of her hand.

"One square hit with this will knock anything short of a Rancor on it's ass."

"Now I noticed you have a little bit of a natural impairment in the vision department, but that can be trained through. Here." He said as he held out the weapon to her. Gesturing slightly towards the man sized targets down range.

"It's got a bit of a kick."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi flushed to a light pink as the man opposite her studied her appearance, her eyes narrowing a little. She felt a little like a fresh Stormtrooper recruit under the critical gaze of a commanding officer, and did her best to dispel this feeling by standing straighter and clasping her hands behind her back. What came next, however, caused the Moff to blanch with no small measure of indignant discomfort. Natural impairment? she echoed internally. True, she had, but it was nearly gone now thanks to hard work and medical care. "I..." she began, inhaling sharply through her nose.

But then, the rational inner voice chimed in. This is the expert you requested. Are you going to take offense just because he said something that was, for one thing, perfectly true, and for a second thing, indicative of a professional? Natasi pressed her lips together and took the proffered weapon. "Thank you," she said. "Your skills of observation and knowledge of weaponry leave me feeling very confident in your ability to train me."

"A rancor, hmm?" Natasi asked with a mischievous smirk. "That does sound rather useful." She held the weapon up, studying it at close range. "Has it got a -- ah -- there," she murmured, finding the small safety lever and flicking it into 'off' position. Remember the kick, she reminded herself as she turned to face the target range. She lifted the weapon, testing its weight; it wasn't terribly heavy, but it wasn't insubstantial, either. She raised it to shoulder level, extending both her arms as she stood, feet spread a few inches, and squinted down the sights.

She squeezed the trigger and the gun nearly leaped from her hand. She made a guttural noise of protest and nearly dropped the damned thing, but recovered and set it down on the counter separating herself and [member="Amin Garith"] from the targets, then leaned over and peered down the range. "Damn and blast," she muttered. Not only had she missed her target, it had gone wide enough to hit another in the next row over. She looked over at the Lieutenant grimly, but couldn't keep the chagrined smile out of her voice. "Would you believe I was trying to hit that one?"

 

[Davin Jusik]

As a former enlisted man Amin couldn't help but take a slight pleasure in the agitation of a member of the aristocracy. While he respected the natural hierarchy of things he'd never truly had much love for High Com folk that weren't cut from his cloth. He felt most lacked the struggle that built true "grit". Though he maintained his composure and didn't allow the thought to linger long enough to be reveled in.

Amin watched [member="Natasi Fortan"] fire and noted her posture and general positioning. She didn't drop the pistol when it discharged, and despite the wide miss kept a sense of wit about her. The Lieutenant thanked his Gods silently that he hadn't been asked to train a posh Moff who couldn't take a healthy bit of failure while learning a new skill. This wasn't a terribly unpleasant experience.

"This is where the trick comes in. May I see your hands?" Amin asked, extending his own arms a right angle by his sides, keeping them parallel to the deck.

(OOC: Which one of her eyes is cross? If both which is generally more dominant? And which of her hands is dominant?)

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The Moff had suspected, on first meeting [member="Amin Garith"], that he had not been particularly over-awed by the idea of a Moff as a concept, or Natasi herself. She further suspected that she had not endeared herself to the Lieutenant by her performance thus far. But it was early days; there was still time to make a favorable impression.

Natasi quirked an eyebrow at the Lieutenant and looked down at her own hands. They were -- well, they were hands, after all. Freshly manicured hands, soft of skin and polished of nail, but ordinary hands. She frowned thoughtfully before holding her hands out to him, palms up. Her dark eyes moved from the hands to his, then traveled up his arms to his face, studying to see if she could determine what he was trying to ascertain. "I wasn't expecting the recoil to -- ah, that is the term, no? Recoil?" She turned her hands over. and studied the backs of them, wondering what he was trying to get at.

(OOC: Her left eye is slightly askew and she is right-handed).

 

[Davin Jusik]

"That is the term." Amin replied to [member="Natasi Fortan"] as he picked up the blaster again. After she placed her hands in his he positioned the pistol gently in her right hand before turning the pair of them towards the target area. Admittedly a bit unorthodox, as he could've simply told her the proper stance, but it a bit too late to go back on the impulsive action.

"Now close your left eye." Amin said calmly. "Line up the rear and front sites. Aim for the target's center. Breath. Get into a nice rhythm. At the end of an exhale squeeze the trigger. Don't anticipate the recoil too much, long as you stand like so." He demonstrated. "And your body will distribute the energy so long as you keep a good grip on the blaster."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi wrapped her hand around the blaster again. It was still vaguely warm, in her palm. She turned when guided to do so and closed her left eye when instructed. "So that's what those notches are for," Natasi said with a smirk; of course she knew what the sights were for, but had entirely missed the point of them in her first shot, trying to look down the sights with both eyes then, with comical failure as the result. She spread her feet a little more, her weight distributed evenly between her left and right foot, between the balls and heels of her feet.

"Why the center?" Natasi asked curiously. "I'm not -- questioning your authority, or anything, I'm just genuinely curious." Still and all, she did as she was told, pointing the gun with the sights aiming directly at the center of the chest on the target. She took a deep breath and at the end of the exhale, squeezed the trigger. The recoil was still significant, but the gun didn't buck too much in her hand. She shot hit the target in the left shoulder, just this side of the line. Natasi took another breath, adjusting her aim, exerting her grip a little more on the gun, and fired again. This shot hit a little lower, and a little closer to the center of the target.

"Why should there be recoil if this is an energy weapon?" Natasi asked, switching the safety on and then examining the weapon as if for a defect. "What am I doing wrong?"

[member="Amin Garith"]

 

[Davin Jusik]

"Nothing. It's plasma based, and the packs release a certain amount of kinetic energy themselves." Amin said as he watched his newfound pupil examine the small death machine in her hand. It was an odd thing. Something the size of a toy that could end every thought and feeling you had from a sizable range. Turn blood to slag and bones to ash.


"You aim for the center because most beings don't have a head that makes an easy target in motion, and because it's statistically the best place to put a bolt and hit something that matters. Something your enemy can't function correctly or at all without."

The trooper wondered how the Moff would take this interpretation of the mechanics of killing. Most of it was simple, you could teach idiots to be artists at it, which armies frequently did. A primal expression of power that changed entire lines of history.

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The fact that she was holding a small death machine in her hand, one which could end every thought and feeling you had from a sizable range and turn blood to slag and bone to ash, was not lost on Natasi Fortan. Quite the opposite; she was being exceedingly careful with the weapon. "I suppose that makes sense," the Moff said thoughtfully. "But what if they're wearing armor? Would this have any kind of armor-piercing -- I guess, armor-melting would be the more appropriate term -- capacity?"

She repeated the process as before, lining up her sights and firing another few rounds, until she felt she could be comfortable with the weapon. "Could you show me how to load and unload this firearm?" Natasi asked as she switched the safety on, then placed the gun on the counter in front of her. "I should know how, just in case one -- ahh, cartridge? -- isn't enough."

[member="Amin Garith"]

 

[Davin Jusik]

[member="Natasi Fortan"]


Amin felt a bit of pride as his new student fired off a few bolts with relative accuracy. After she handed him the weapon he quickly demonstrated how to properly eject and replace a power pack.

"Just hit that button and switch out for a new one." Amin said in a casual manner. "On the melting through armor, really just depends on what who you're shooting at is wearing." He shrugged.

"Should melt through most standardized gear with a shot or two." He left out the part about how you could tweek the settings on the blaster for the time being. The Moff would definitely want to be more familiar with the weapon before doing something that had the potential to cause the gun to "maybe" rupture a pack and explode.