With wars snapping at the heels of Selen and Arcona as a whole, alongside the conintued high alert despite supposedly being in peace times, training those headed to the battlefields was at an all time priority. The Citadel was hosting a series of training refresher courses from hand to hand combat to high level tactics. No rookies were to be included, simply being an effort to ensure there were as few knowledge gaps as possible in the forces. Most of the rooms were indoor venues, ideal rooms being chosen for each focus.
For blaster specific training, a room with tall cielings and a long floorplan had been chosen.
A dark haired Human stood behind those participating in shooting practise. Most were good enough, although under the guise of learning to be a better people person Cole was there to give tips and hints. He had, although if Wyn thought dealing with idiots who were soldiers but didn’t know how to hold a blaster gun would improve his social skills then he was sorely mistaken. His icy blue eyes scanned over them all, noting a few newcomers heading over but remaining mostly focussed on the shooters. They had improved a lot over the last hour, so he was content to sit back and watch without interaction.
Report for Blaster retraining.
Mikhail had squinted at the paper, but tucked it neatly into a pocket at the time. He could shoot a blaster. Whether he ever hit anything was another matter. Either way, skilled marksmanship was not something he cared about sending time on. Nor was it something ever expected of him previously.
Still, an order was an order. He only hoped the refresher would be over with rather soon.
Tight, sleek black dress shoes carried the Arkanian into the long hall as part of a new influx of shooters ready to get back into practice. They started filling in spaces inside empty alleys, or behind lanes already occupied by someone. Mikhail found himself similarly waiting for a shooter to finish. His arms went behind his back and hands clasped together. Standing at ease per his old training. He held and carried himself like an imperial officer, but was not quite dressed like one At all.
A dark High collar leather jacket that revealed a nice shirt underneath covered his torso, bearing a few insignia that anyone in the know would recognize as Kadnikov.
If they had somehow missed the raven black hair ontop of the pale Arkanians head that is. What may have thrown an observer off, was a dark blue crystal surface seemingly filling a tendril like scar that crept across his soft, angular face. The origin of the crystalline cracks was hidden by the high collar, though even stranger where his eyes. At this point they were partially hidden behind to thin black shades, powerful enough to act as welding protection should they need to. Two crystal orbs slowly examined the room. Like all Arkanians, they were lacking of any iris or pupil features. But they seemed to slowly shift and sparkle as they moved, giving off a strange kaleidoscope effect. In all the crystal seemed to be sort of an illusion, as if you were peeking into a cavern of crystal deep within the humanoid.
Eventually his eyes stopped at a man about his age and height. Though it was near impossible to tell where he was looking, the cold off putting gaze passed over him a few times as Mikhail awaited his turn
As the newcomers filed into place, only a few stood waiting for an alley. Cole glanced over them, debating whether it was worth yelling at them to actually get set behind an alley or not when he noticed it.
The Arkanian, unusual in itself, bore the sigil of Kadnikov.
Cole’s eyes narrowed, gooseflesh raising along his covered arms. It really could be anything with that family, a genuine one going solo for connections or some form of spy. His father had worked with them years ago, although it was stuttered. Too deep into things that the Farrows deemed too risky.
The Human straighened up. The mesh of scars on his face were painfully visible in the light, although from the lack of covering up clearly no bother to the man. Ignoring the far less interesting soldiers, he closed the gap between himself and the Arkanian, holding out a blaster from one of the racks. The other had clearly seen combat, but the lack of even having a weapon on him spoke louder.
“You used one of these before?”
Mikhail tracked the incoming man with his eyes, thankful for the shades obscuring his vision. The room was hot, blasters in use glowed like a campfires in each alley, which would have easily become uncomfortable with how many of them were firing.
A cursory glance couldn’t quite pin the man for a reason he’d be approaching, besides the fact that Mikhail was simply waiting for an open booth. Still, he waited patiently as he was approached and handed a blaster. He accepted it, quickly giving it a once over as was quite literally beaten into him whenever handed a live weapon. Satisfied with the quick examination, he lifted his face to regard the slightly taller man once more. “Yes. Sparingly.” If he was being sarcastic, he didn’t show it.
Cole didn’t care if it was sarcastic, “Not surprised, considering.” He glanced meaningfully at the sigil the man bore.
And then as if he hadn’t commented continued, “You know how to check it at least. Ever sparingly used it in combat or just in training?”
He seemed to think for a few moments, face turning to watch those nestled in their lanes firing. “I’ve fired it under combat circumstances, yes. But that was rare, as it was not my priority.” His words are dry, spoken with a serious tone though his voice was quite soft.
“Good.” Cole responded sharply, watching the Kadnikov. He glanced over to those firing as well, debating the next line of questioning but deciding here was safer than anywhere else.
“Though, didn’t think Kadnikov’s were the type to send their own into firing lines.”
Mikhail’s breathing remained steady, but his senses sharpened. He was suddenly much more aware of the man standing next to him.
There was much he could say in the way of threats to be insinuated. But he was hesitant to speak in that manner yet. He didn’t have enough information on just who this man was. So instead of a bright reaction, his head turned.
It was a slow, deliberant movement that left his eyes able to peek over his glasses. Expressionless, he took in the man again. Not finding anything specific enough to retort on despite the display of endless scars.
The Arkanian spoke again, casually. Having decided how he wanted to approach the potentially volatile situation - toss a little gas on it. “All companies need their security… nevertheless, I did not serve my family on a front line. I was Drafted by, and served, the First Order. Up until their dissolution at least.” He watched Cole closely, waiting to see what other reaction on he might draw from the scarred man.
Cole’s expression was well metered and as difficult to read as Mikhail’s expression was. Maintained under a practised mask. There was judgement allowed through, in the narrowing of eyes. There was little love lost between him and the First Order. They liked to poke their noses into more than they should.
“Yea, you guys were.. pretty buddied up with that lot. I think the term was being well connected rather than arse kissers.”
Cole smiled, though there was no warmth behind it. No hostility either. A lack of anything in particular.
The words didn’t seem to eek anything from the Arkanian. He spoke again, softly. “When one is forced to play in the mud, allying with a worm can be fruitful, if your goal is the bird.” His eyes slid over to the other man. Boring holes into Cole’s pale iris’. He let those words sit for a few moments, finally deciding that there was no need to continue with that line of talk.
It was time to see who he was dealing with. “I take it you are an overseer here. Arconan? Do you serve them as a weapons master? Or perhaps you simply enjoy telling people they should shoot better?” If he was Arconan, it could be a concern if they could all identify him as easily as this one. His affiliations were sometimes.. interruptive when discovered.
Cole regarded the Arkanian. He hummed, considering it and deciding that this person was about as trustworthy as any animal. Alas, it was impossible to avoid rubbing shoulders and the untrustworthy were best kept close.
“Arconan enough. But I can’t say I want to be here, but this lot need someone who knows what the kriff they’re doing.” The Human gestured to the full alleys, most were doing well enough although one further to the other side of the room with an instructor at shoulder managed to shoot into the ceiling. The man’s blaster was quickly taken away, as he was guided off to the side for a visibly stern berating. “I know what I’m doing. If you did, you wouldn’t have turned up, not like this was compulsory.”
Mikhail shouldered the weapon and immediately started off towards the newly opened alley. As he walked, he spoke, in a slight way forcing Cole to follow. “Target practice is fine for weapon familiarity. But a sharpshooter in an alley might find themselves faltering in real action.”
Mikhail takes his position in the open lane, giving the weapon one more check over. Next step was to test sights, letting his am hover loosely over the target down range as he makes small final adjustments, getting comfortable in his stance. Under his breath he adds “you’re not the only one who would rather be elsewhere.”
The Sharpshooter was tailing Mikhail anyway, the Arkanian speaking more was just a side bonus.
Wasn’t technically his role to focus on one person today but kark it, Bly was handling most of everything anyway.
He settled a foot or so behind Mikhail’s right shoulder.
“Familiarity is important. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Despite not having shot a blaster for about two years, the ensuing fire from Mikhail managed to stay tight. Most shots, if not all, landed on the distant target. Each squeeze of the trigger lung a bolt of energy that would be enough to temporarily blind the Arkanian if he wasn’t wearing his blinders. His accuracy may have not been perfect, but the repeated ability to hit the square left Mikhail satisfied.
He spent a few minutes, blasting away in a steady manner. Every now and then he’d pause, giving his blaster enough time to cool before it became too annoying to his infravision.
Cole gave a few pointers in the midst of the pauses for allowing the blaster to cool.
Nothing ground breaking was needed to be said, but rearrangement of elbows and how to work with your breathing to get a more precise shot.
Otherwise the Human stood by and went back to his prior stance of keeping an eye on everyone.
Time passed, about a hundred shots were fired in total before Mikhail stood straight and lowered the blaster. He gazed impassively at the target before checking the blaster over once more. Now sure that it was safe, he stepped back from the alley and looked around the room. It was full of potential soldiers. Plenty of good shooters. Plenty of meat. His practiced expression withheld cringing at the thought, stomach shifting as it came to his mind out of nowhere.
How many would he see under his scalpel, begging to be saved?
He swallowed, pushing the thought deep down with the others and made his way back towards Cole. He extended his arm, offering the blaster back to him after practice.
Cole took it, glancing over the weapon and checking it over. It needed cleaning, but otherwise with the safety firmly set in place he let it rest at hip.
“Solid improvement. At least you should hit what you want to-”
“Farrow! You can head out!” Cole winced, but looked towards Blythe. The captain continued, “We got other folk coming in. I’ll handle Kalista and Sulvir.”
He nodded simply, clearing his throat as he looked back toward Mikhail, hoping that the name would go unnoticed.
“Guessing you know how to clean it?” The coolness from his voice had faded, leaving an edge to it. Caution.
Mikhail followed Coles gaze towards the one shouting their direction. As he responds, the Arkanian continued eyeing the captain.
Farrow’s question drew Mikhail’s attention back to center. He slowly nodded and gently took the weapon back, eyes forward. He didn’t look towards Cole for a few seconds, instead seemingly too busy inspecting the dirty weapon. “I do.” He spoke simply, turning towards the cleaning area.
He paused a moment, seemingly still engrossed in the weapon. He wipes a streak of grime from the barrel onto a finger, then rubs it between two fingertips as if testing the consistency. He spoke softly again, as if to himself, but plenty loud enough to overhear as is committing to memory. “Farrow…” the word oozed from his mouth, as if the Arkanian was tasting it like a fine spirit. He turned his head slightly, peering at coke from the corner of his eye past the edge of his glasses. The Shifting blue crystal spheres indecipherable.
Cole met the gaze, jaw clenching.
He doubted the name would be of any interest if Kadnikov hadn’t recognised it. This would be interesting.
He followed him to the cleaning table, to overwatch the cleaning in theory. “Don’t wear it out.”
At the table, Mikhail started to calmly clean the blaster. Eyes remaining focused on it while his mind wandered. Farrow. He began recalling the few thing’s he’d heard of the Farrows. A Patriarch and son, slain. But.. perhaps that’s simply just what the Farrow’s wanted the headline to be, considering the man hovering behind him.
His eyes narrowed at the greasy rags used to clean dozens of guns. “I’ll remember not to. Though, I should give the Farrows my condolences. Tragic, what happened. Truly.” He spoke over his shoulder, still focused on the gun under him. His tone was short of sarcastic, yet still businesslike.
Cole didn’t notably react. Not visibly. A clench of the jaw, twitch of the eye maybe. But most of it was the surge of grief, fear. Anger. Emotions that he quickly stomped on, pushed down. Destroyed or not, he was a Farrow. No faltering. No hesitation, above it all.
So he breathed, in and out. Slowly as if he wasn’t focused on it. He’d heard some stories of what had supposedly happened. Those karkers hadn’t admitted they failed to kill him. Worked for him, no bounty hunters on his ass. But it was an interesting rumour to deal with.
“Tragic is a word for it, I suppose. Hard to tell, with all the rumours.” He spoke evenly, maintaing his tone from minute ago.
Cole shifted coming beside Mikhail and leaning back against the table. He didn’t need the man turning around with a blaster, without one in his own reach. He placed his hands on the table behind him, scarred hands splayed out but not really holding his weight.
His eyes flickered over to the hands, then roamed back towards the gun he was still working on cleaning. “Indeed. Rumors can make or break a man. Whether there is any truth to them or not.” He lifts the gun up, aiming it down at the table and looking it over once more.
His voice dropped, not quite a whisper but soft enough that Farrow might have to strain to hear. “An assassin tasked with overseeing a training course… that would be something. Too bad, I’m sure the men here could use a sharpshooter like that.” His eyes finally found Cole in his peripherals. Watching his scarred face. “But dead men talk to none but the Damned. Isn’t that right?”
Cole looked out of the corner of his eye.
He allowed some of the anger to bear through, despite smiling to himself as he responded, “They’d have to kill me first.”
He let it hang, before continuing, “We’re on even footing here. I’m not looking to play games. If you know anything about us.. me. Then you know that much.”
Well informed suspicions confirmed, Misha set the rifle down. It was now cleaned, and procured a cloth from the inside of his open jacket to clean his hands of any remaining gunk. It had apparently already seen quite a bit of use of the grease stains on it were any indication.
If the Farrow believed they were on even footing, Mikhail had no intention of proving him wrong. So he simply nodded and turned towards the exit while tucking his cloth away.
“Perhaps then, there is something you’d like to discuss with The Family” he glanced at Cole before gesturing towards the door.
“Like what.” Cole remained lent on the table, following the gesture but remaining still for now.
He reckoned he could take the kadnikov one on one if this was a second location shtick, but if the heat was avoidable…
“It seems you are aware of certain rumors, like I am. And I fear there may be future misunderstandings, should a stand off not ease. Misunderstandings are a very common cause of… encounters.” He remained facing forward, spending the time on straightening his jacket and shirt before running a hand through his black hair
“So you just wanna clear the air?” Cole asked, finding the continuing poetic chatter grating. He understood, but it was unnecessary.
“Go on then, let’s get it over with.” He straightened, intentioned to follow.
Mikhail pushed away from the table, walking out the door. He wasn’t familiar with this place, but there was a nice looking courtyard type area where they could discuss things a bit more privately.
Stepping out into the sun, the crystal shone and almost glowed as it reflected light. But the Arkanian simply adjusted his glasses to cover more of his vision and made off towards a nook against the building to speak. Once there he turned, watching Cole settle in. He waited for a few moments before speaking. “You have preconceived notions of what I am here for, I am sure. I want to assure you, my intentions here are not of the adversarial variety.”
Cole didn’t think much of the crystal. It was purified. It just spoke of the Kadnikov’s survival. As his own scars did.
Cole didn’t settle, standing with a few feet between them, arms crossed.
“I have an idea. Glad to hear it’s not adversarial in terms of the Kadnikov’s but considering the variety of work partners, I don’t necessarily trust your definition of that.”
His lips purse slightly as he thinks his next words over. “I have come.. A long way. Alone. I have not concealed my identity from you for a reason. I cannot deny our varied strategies in the past. Nor how you may have come to… an unfavorable conclusion in the past with my family. We are familiar with the types of actions said to have been taken against your and yours. Though working off of rumor alone, i cannot make you any.. amending offers.”
“There’s nothing you could offer.” Cole said shortly, before adding on with more grace, “Nor anything you should. Honestly its more just a difference in how we operate. Never had a bad encounter. If you’re here of your own devices, then that’s its own deal.”
His lips tighten slightly. The Farrow wasn’t quite correct, but it wasn’t a necessary correction. “The choice is yours, of course. Ultimately I am here to assist this… Guild. Arcona. If you count yourself among their number then I have no qualms offering your my services.”
“Depends what services.”
“First and foremost, under the First Order I served as a Combat Medic. I could not name you a battle we decisively won, so I had my share of work cut out for me. Already, I acted as a Medic during the.. ‘war’. As short as it was.” Once more his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was flat, as if he was reciting a resume. In reality, he was doing all he could to not get sucked back into the memories of what he’s seen.
“In addition, I piloted and drove Medevacs across many front lines. I’ve trained with piloting starships of capital size, and have the relevant skills in Astrogation.” There was more, but he decided to stop there for the sake of the Farrow.
“So, you’re wanting to join the clan?” He queried, a dark eyebrow raised as he wondered why a Kadnikov would want to leave their own group. Joining for a war, well many groups did that. But actually dedicating one self to the clan was different entirely.
“In truth? I would be doing so in the interest of your clan.” He reached up, withdrawing the glasses from his face. The shifting blue blur of crystalline geometry locks with his eyes. He gently taps the glasses on his cheek, between the scar and his eyes.
“This, is not just a disfigurement. It’s Dozens of research opportunities waiting to be tapped. Purified or not, knowledge of this reaching certain people in my family will spark interest. Interest in where it came from. Where to find more of it. I doubt your clan would willingly sell any they have, so other methods would be leveraged to acquire more.” He let that point hang between them for a moment before he slid his blinders back on. It wasn’t easy to see without them here, but they served a point. He was not inconspicuous.
Cole considered it, not really bothered by the sunglasses. It was a good attempt, but he was long past the point where simple showmanship was effective. Maybe he’d have been impressed some months ago, but it was hard to indulge even in that.
“So..what. Youre offering to be a test subject?” Cole raised an eyebrow, realising that they weren’t on even footing at all if this was the preferred option for the Arkanian. “I think you think were a nicer place than we are. The head scientist would probably do as bad to you as your family would, considering you’re avoiding them. Don’t know why else you’d offer yourself up like that.”
The flat expression on his face hardened. “Test subject? No. I have already given you the offers I will. You are badly mistaken if you think I’d allow myself to be used in such a way. If it came to violence I would have no hesitations defending myself. I only choose one over the other as it offers less mess for me to deal with. This decision also offers protection to your Arcona.”
“Well when you gesture to the crystal that’s attached to you, it’s not a hard mistake Kadnikov.” Cole spoke bluntly, visibly unimpressed, “So you’re just sticking to offering.. astrogation, piloting combat medic skills?”
The Arkanian sighed, arms going behind his back again. “I have other, more Esoteric talents and knowledge. Are those skill not needed by the Arcona?”
“Sure are, but if you wanted someone who can hook you in I’m probably not your person. Bly, he’s captain of the guard. He could link you better. Just maybe leave out mentioning the fact your family would potentially attack- sorry leverage other methods on us over that shit in your neck eh?” Cole crossed his arms.
“I have no interested in bringing up something irrelevant. You are privileged with, or at least bear the burden of certain information. Ultimately, my family is not a necessity to discuss if the object of our discussion is my potential service here.” He paused for a few moments, eyebrows furrowing. Perhaps he was being to wordy for the assassin.
“My service will speak on its own merits. That is all that needs to be relayed.”
“Good. Though do know, and I’m sure you do considering you were here in the last war. Your family better not come here.” Cole’s tone dropped, quieter but no less audible, “Not unless you wish to see them hunted down like the false gods, caxquettes, crystal monstroties and the children that has tried to attack this clan just in the last few years. It may take time, but everything you know would find itself as something you knew. Including yourself.”
The Human smiled.
Mikhail seems to not react for a few moments. Then, the corners of his lips quirked in a strange, hard to recognize smile of his own. He nodded slowly, looking towards the larger courtyard away from Cole as he spoke. “You are intriguing. уважаю тебя - I respect you. Many Arkanians would not stand to be spoken to like you are. But I have the benefit of knowing you. So I will allow it.”
He paused for a few moments before once more meeting eyes with Cole. “Do be careful if you end up speaking to another. Insults like that are weighed as heavily as lifting a blade. Not many may recall the name Farrow, nor the extents you are willing to go to in the interest of survival.”
“Then on that at least, we’re on the same level.”
A subtle hint that he had noticed Kadnikov’s.. nerves.
The Human held his hand out, “Cole Farrow.”
Though hesitant, the Arkanian accepted the hand shake. His fingers were slender, dexterous. His grip was not incredibly tight, instead he let the Human lead the shake. “Kadnikov Mikhail Petrovich.”
Cole’s grip was firm, but not so much as to cause harm to the other.
“I’ll see you around.”
A slow nod, and the Kadnikov released his grip, slipping past the Farrow towards the greater courtyard and entrance to the building.
The day had not started how he had planned, but things here were proving to be far more interesting than Mikhail originally anticipated.