Star Wars: Scars

Part 2 - 8

Months passed and all of them slowly learned to get along better. Creed and Tadem stopped fighting so much and actually became decent friends, making Dawn all the happier. Specter and Skate kept them all in line and Kuli watched the kittens. They were like a little family living out in the middle of space. However, they still came down from time to time to refuel and restock and today was one of those days.

They'd set down on a small trading post not far out from the core worlds. Specter and Skate had gone to get things in order and left Kuli, Sunny, and Cloudy onboard the ship.

Creed, Dawn, and Tadem were allowed to wander the station on their own, so long as they were careful. Even together, and even with Dawn and Creed's training, they were still fugitives and there were more than enough people in the galaxy who would steal Tadem solely for his race. 

Therefore, they stuck together most of the time and didn't wander too far. Creed wanted to go look at all the different weapon's shops, though, and Tadem wanted to check out the food. Their plan was to inspect the weapon's shops, then loop back around and search the markets for something that would help Tadem survive the three hours until dinner.

Plus, they all wanted something sweet.

"Hey, can we go in here?" Creed called back, looking over at his two brothers. Dawn lifted his head first, his short white ponytail--his hair was long enough that Specter insisted he pull it out of his face--bobbing up with his head.

"Yeah, you go in, me and Tadem wanna stay here and look at this for a minute," he said.

Nodding, Creed slipped into the shop, looking around. The first thing to catch his eye was the wall of knives. He already had a sword, so while he didn't mind looking, he was content with carrying Haze's sword. But he hadn't had a decent set of knives in years. Not since he'd stolen some at the age of 8. They'd been swiftly confiscated, and about three days in solitary containment had deterred him from stealing any more. 

Here he could buy them, though, and while he didn't have many credits, Specter had sent him and the other two each with 100 credits of their own to spend. 

Creed's dark eyes flicked across the wall, assessing each blade. He picked out every detail, unaware of the middle-aged Cathar man stepping up to the counter. 

"Can I help you, young man?" the shopkeeper asked loudly, breaking through Creed's momentary focused.

Creed's eyes flickered down to the man and he stepped to the counter some, nodding. "Which one of those would you consider to have the best blade for throwing?" he asked. "I noticed you had several longer and thinner bladed knives, which would be alright, but their handles are too short and not balanced. Do you have any with the right balance?"

The older man pursed his catlike face and looked up at the wall, his green eyes following the same path Creed's had before he looked away and instead knelt behind the counter. "Indeed, I believe I have some but they aren't on the wall. Most of those are close combat or decoration knives," he said, then came up with three different sets. He pulled one knife out of each set and laid it in front of Creed.

"Here, these are the best balanced for throwing. The grey hilted one is lighter and has a specific shape to be thrown longer. The one with the coppery blade is a bit heavier but has a better balance to it. The last one is a new blade I've been working on. May I ask why someone your age is so interested in throwing knives?"

Creed looked up at the man and shrugged, using the line Specter had taught him when people asked about his odd weapons interest. "It's a hobby," he said.

Despite being a clone, most people didn't recognize him when in plainclothes and Specter said that was a good thing. Creed wasn't sure entirely how, but he went with it.