Mandalore's sun beat down on the red plains as Jack moved through the Fett stronghold. Warriors trained in the courtyards, beskad blades clashing in sharp rhythms. Cassandra hummed quietly through his helmet, compiling cultural data, translating overheard conversations, and monitoring his vitals with clinical precision.
"These people raise children like shock troopers," she observed.
Jack gave a low grunt. "Feels familiar."
"That's exactly what worries me."
Verd Fett wasted no time molding Jack into Clan Fett's newest warrior. His days became structured, disciplined, and relentless:
Morning combat drills with seasoned Mandalorians
Mando'a language training with clan elders
Long afternoons in the forge
Nights spent learning Mandalorian history, oaths, and honor
And hours with Jango, part training, part trouble, part brotherhood
Jack picked up the language fast.
"Ner vod," he greeted an elder.
The old man blinked. "Brother already?"
Jack shrugged. "Work in progress,"
Cassandra answered dryly, "Your neural augmentation allows accelerated language acquisition. You'll be fluent in approximately one year ."
Jack muttered, "Let's keep that between us. Or they'll give me homework."
"Spartan," she sighed, "you are homework."
The forge roared like a living beast.
Jack shed his armor piece by piece, leaving only the black underlayer until even that clung with too much heat. He pulled it off and stepped into the glow bare-skinned, his body catching the firelight.
Jango, entering behind his father, stopped short.
Jack barely noticed. He was focused on the beskar plate heating on the anvil.
But to Mandalorian eyes, the warrior beneath the steel was a sight:
pale skin marked with old scars
a lean, powerful frame shaped by Spartan augmentation
strong shoulders and a tapered torso built for endurance
messy, light blond hair falling into bright, ice-blue eyes
a young man's body, but a soldier's gaze
"You really are built like Beskar," Jango murmured.
Jack didn't look up. "Keep staring, and I'm charging rent."
Cassandra chimed. "He means thank you."
"No, I don't."
But the corner of Jack's mouth twitched.
Verd Fett studied him with the scrutiny of a smith inspecting raw ore. Finally, he nodded once.
"You look like a fighter. Steel suits you. Flesh does too."
Jack blinked. "…Not sure that's a compliment."
"It is," Verd assured him. "You look like clan."
Jack hesitated just a heartbeat."…Thanks."
The Armorer handed Jack a glowing slab of beskar.
"You seek to forge your first piece, Jack'ika."
He exhaled. "Just say 'armor.'"
"Mandalorians appreciate poetry."
"Great," Cassandra said. "You're among your people."
Jack hammered the metal, sparks scattering like stars. Beskar resisted him stubbornly, unyielding, but Spartan strength wore it down. Each impact echoed through the hall, a rhythm older than Mandalore itself.
When he quenched the plate and lifted it from the water, it gleamed with a familiar silhouette, his silhouette. A Beskar replica of his MJOLNIR pauldron.
Jango grinned. "Told you you'd fit in."
Jack shook his head, but not in denial.
Jack's workshop became a storm of sparks, wires, and half-dissected tech. Cassandra projected translucent diagrams across his HUD as he fitted a UNSC shield capacitor under the new Beskar pauldron.
"Spartan, integrating this technology carries a fifteen percent chance of catastrophic."
"It'll work," Jack said.
"It could explode."
"It'll work."
Jango poked the device. "Will it explode now?"
Jack pushed his hand away. "Go bother someone else."
"Is that a yes?"
Cassandra sighed. "I'm surrounded by children."
After two days, the first hybrid system hummed to life, beskar armor reinforced with Spartan shielding.
Jack rolled his shoulder."Feels like home."
Verd Fett inspected Jack's upgraded pauldron.
"I want this for all warriors of the clan."
Jack blinked. "All of them?"
"Yes."
"That's… excessive."
Verd nodded. "Correct."
Jack smirked. "Alright then. Overkill it is."
For a week, Jack and Cassandra worked with relentless focus. Soon, every Fett warrior walked with a faint shimmer beneath their beskar.
Tor Fett stared at his glowing gauntlet."This is madness. Beskar doesn't need shields."
Jack shrugged. "Occupational hazard."
Tor laughed. "You are insane."
While Jack hammered metal, Cassandra quietly hammered the galaxy.
She infiltrated:
Mandalorian banking networks
Republic guild databases
Corporate archives
Black market communication nodes
The Hutt Cartel's financial logs
"Spartan," she reported, "you now possess eight bank accounts, three investment portfolios, and one… explosives budget?"
Jack sighed. "Jango?"
The boy waved proudly from across the room. "I made that one!"
Jack rubbed his temples. "I need supervision."
"You have me," Cassandra said.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
By the end of the third week, Jack and Jango trained together daily.
"Your footwork is terrible," Jack said, nudging Jango's ankle with his boot.
"No, it's not."
Jack swept his leg lightly. Jango stumbled.
"Now it is."
Jango glared. "Why do you move like everything wants to kill you?"
"Because it usually does."
Jango laughed a sharp, fearless sound.
Cassandra whispered, "He reminds me of you. Before Reach."
Jack paused. Then quietly, "That's why I'm keeping him alive."
Jango elbowed him. "Come on, big brother. Teach me the flip move."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No."
Cassandra helpfully added, "Statistically, he'll break something."
"See?" Jack said.
Jango groaned. "Why are you both like this?!"
Jack smirked. "Bad influences."