Every morning, the same sequence. Not habit—ritual. The Way demands intention.
Mesh undersuit first. Temperature regulation, impact dispersion. Then the chest plate. It clicks into place with a sound that means "I am protected."
Gauntlets next. Left, then right. Check the whistling bird launchers. Test the grapple line. Weapons are part of my religion, and these are my church.
Greaves. Knee pads. Mobility is survival.
Pauldrons—the signet goes on the right. Always the right. The clan of two. Me and the kid.
Helmet last. The seal pressurizes. The HUD boots up. The world becomes filtered, safe, distant.
I become Mandalorian.
She taught me that the armor is my soul. She was right. Without it, I'm just a man. With it, I'm the Way.
Fifteen minutes every morning. Fifteen minutes of becoming.
This is the way.