Star Wars: Scars

Part 1 - 1

"Attention, cadets!"

All six cadets snapped to immediate attention as the training sergeant walked into the middle of the room. Unlike most phase one trainers, he wasn't a clone, but rather a mercenary with lines of scars running across his weathered face.

He was human, a former Mandalorian assassin named Kelsor Dunn. Although to every clone cadet in the room, he was Sergeant Dunn or Sir.

"At ease, cadets," the Sergeant snapped, his hard eyes gazing over all six of them. 90 watched him carefully, trying to hide his slight fear as he gazed back at the Sergeant's harsh glare.

Everyone there knew that Sergeant Dunn was far from a light man. He rarely spoke except to issue order or instruction, nor did he show any sort of sentiment. Deaths in training were the fault of the deceased party and everything else would continue with or without them.

90 knew because he'd barely skimmed by with his life in the last test, and he was fearful that he wouldn't make it out of the next one. He didn't want to die yet, he wanted to become a soldier and an assassin. Plus, he was only 10.

"Today we're going to be going over the use of the traditional sword in battle. Regular troopers rely on their blasters in battle, but you are not regular troopers. You are assassins and that means you will rely on this sword because your life depends on it. This is and will always be your primary weapon. Take care of it, and let it become an extension of your body," the Sergeant instructed.

He quickly drew his sword from its sheath, cutting the air before him with a precise arc, stopping the blade an inch from the floor.

"You will master this, or you will die," he said darkly before lifting the blade and turning it flat in his hands.

"First, who can tell me the strength of the Mandalorian curved blade," he ordered, his eyes scanning the cadets closely.

90 swallowed hard as the room was silent. He watched the sword in the Sergeant's hands quietly, looking warily at the gently curving tip as it shone dangerously under the white lights.

It took him a moment, but he mustered the courage to answer, lifting his chin and setting his jaw, stiffening as he kept his hands secured in proper form behind his back.

"--The curved blade allows for greater coverage and speed, Sir," another cadet interjected before 90 could open his mouth.

The Sergeant's narrow eyes darted to the cadet who spoke and softened as he nodded approvingly. "Correct, ACT-67."

90 let his shoulder's sag a little as he glanced over at 67 and he dropped his chin, glancing around nervously at the other cadets. He hoped no one would notice his failed attempt, but it felt like they were all already looking at him.

He knew they'd mock him for it later.

"Who will step forward and demonstrate the proper form of holding your sword at the ready," the Sergeant asked after that, his eyes narrowing again and gazing harshly over the cadets.

90 didn't stop to think this time, but stiffened immediately and raised his voice before anyone else could. "I will, Sir."

Sergeant Dunn's eye's crossed the four cadets in front of him before resting on 90 with a sharp look of doubt, but he stepped to the side and motioned for 90 to step forward. The cadets in front of him parted and 90 walked quickly to the front before his fear got the best of him and he came to face the Sergeant.

The Sergeant carefully handed his sword over to him and 90 took it gingerly, looking at the glinting blade for a moment, feeling the weight and size of it in his hands, practically staring in awe at the new weapon.