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| - Although likely not first into the recreation deck by any means, of the pair that had departed from Colonel Halwinder's cabin he was indeed in the lead coming into the recreation area. No doubt plenty of entertainment could be sought there, and was being enjoyed by offduty personel, in the meantime Sandor had obligations to perform. While he hadn't realized he would be placed in charge of Cantrell himself, he had been made aware that he ought to lead him here shortly before attending the meeting that had bestowed a new rank upon him, and indeed, made Sandor Woden very much a rarity amongst people in their early twenties. He waves his hand across the room in a gesture to acknowledge the task set before him, and shortly before Cantrell as well, all the while his eyes searching for a particular person, but thus far coming up empty. Ah the Rec Deck. A place Cantrell used to frequent alot in his tour of duty. A faint smile creeps on the old soldier's face as he recognizes the target range, where he actually lost to a good friend of his. Never really bitter about it, for as he was considered one of the better shots in the Empire and lost to a fly boy, he remembers many a time that his ace pilot friend was bested in combat in his area of expertise. He spies the rifle strapped to the Sergeant Major's back, his brow furrowed. "Forgive me for saying, but that's a nice looking piece of hardware you got there, Sergeant Major. You used it yet?" It seemed, all rank and pride issues aside, the two men really did have some common ground. "More than any other of my limbs," he grinned at Cantrell, taking in a bit of a breath, "This rifle took down a Wookiee in a hunt across a desolate wasteland, and has been the direct cause of death for a number of officers and enlisted men alike in several rebel movements across the galaxy. Even shot a squid with it in an alley, recently." Sandor almost seemed to wince at that last remark, however, and with good reason. He wasn't about to admit that the alien in question, Thrask, had proceded to leave him near-death with a well-placed sword swing afterwards. "There are better implements for my task, I'm well aware, but I don't really think I can part with this rifle at this point." Reaching back to pat the Blastech F-31 Laser Sniper rifle, Sandor's grin fades into a bit more determined an expression. He did have a job to do here, after all. Taking the rifle down from his back, the Sergeant Major presents it in both arms to Cantrell. "All right, Corporal, let's see how you are with it." "Damn...light gun." Cantrell inspects the gun carefully, taking aim down the barrel, not paying any mind to the scope that's on it. "They spoil the IGF too much. Back when I first started, we just used an ST-II and our eyes." He levels the rifle ahead and aims for a bottle thats in the other end of the room, snapping off a shot. "Nice..." He looks up, seeing a perfect circle through the middle of the glass bottle, a good 200 yards away. His coat wrapped around his arm, Danik Kreldin walked into the recreation area through the crew deck, his eyes immediately scanning the room for two familiar faces. He had heard a rumor that Wescal was back, and that Sandor had received his latest promotion to sergeant major. So, in an effort to meet his old friend, Wescal, and congratulate his new friend, Sandor, Danik hunted them down and the trail led to the recreation area, where the two war heroes were off by the targetting range. Apparently Wescal was trying out Sandor's trusty sniper rifle, the F-31, a weapon that Danik had come to appreciate after all he had been through with the young sniper. Danik walked over to the two, slipping his fedora off his head. "Well, well, well... long time no see, Wescal." After Cantrell's shot, the F-31 is returned to Sergeant Major Woden's hands, where it rests in his eager grasp. Turning to Danik, Sandor offers a quick salute, though he honestly had to wonder if any of that was even neccesary, given the peculiar nature of the older man's rank, and couldn't manage more in any case, given that he didn't dare lose hold of the sniper rifle. Not even when a soldier placed into his charge wasn't around would he dare risk such a thing. He takes up the rifle, however, and aims at a similar bottle placed at about the same distance down the firing range. Unlike the seemingly more conserative Corporal, the young sniper rest's his eye a short distance behind the lens of his rifle's scope, and lines up a shot of his own. Squeezing down upon the trigger, a brilliant arc of light travels down the length of the range towards the bottle, shattering the bottle, though at a bit more awkward an angle than the Corporal had. Still, the end result was the same, and he straps the weapon across his back once more, the display having been made and the Corporal's shot matched, to a degree. "What?" Cantrell turns around, just to see a familiar face, and this time around, really needed to see a familiar face. "Danik...you still haven't died." He says with a wide tooth grin, though it disappears as he looks back at Sandor. "Er...I mean, sir." He changes his attitude and tone drastically, snapping into attention and offering him a salute. "I'm back in the Ground Forces. I grew tired of waiting and not being able to spill the blood of the New Republic." "Dead? Me? No. Not yet, at least. Getting old, though," Danik said with a smile, taking a seat nearby. "Eh, forget the formalities, no need," he said, to both Sandor and Cantrell as they offered their salutes and sirs. He didn't want any of it, nor did he really need it at this point. "Ground Forces? A man like you doesn't belong in the infantry. You're a stormtrooper, Wescal, not to mention a major. Why the hell are you wearing corporal chevrons?" he asked, observing the man's ranks. "Rather odd to see a veteran like yourself reduced to such a low rank. The guys upstairs have no sense at all," he said, shaking his head. "Sigh..but, whatever, at least you're in the front again. Maybe we can get the job done properly finally; I'm not very good at leading a ground campaign," he said, looking over to Sandor. He had led several ground campaigns before, when there was no else to fill in, and although they ended in success all the time, Danik was just not fit out for that role. He belonged in space, period. "So, the Sergeant Major is teaching you the ropes all over again, hm?" Sandor is quick to shake his head at Danik's final remark, almost seeming to become disappointed by it as he responds. "Your friend, the Corporal here, is showing me that he already has the makings of a fine soldier. He's just neglected his calling for a bit too long, so we're getting him up to speed." Sandor almost let it go there, but a flash of distress comes across his face, as he realizes that he didn't neccesarily agree with the concept. Cantrell was already a fine soldier, and whatever had caused him to give up on his duty appeared to be long gone from his personality. "Colonel Halwinder's orders," he adds, a bit coldly. "Apparently the good Colonel doesn't hold much reguard of my abilities as you do, Danik." Cantrell chuckles, propping himself onto a chair, shrugging his shoulder. "Ground Forces, Stormtroopers...it's all the same. I'd personally would rather the olive drabs of Infantry over the stark white armor of Stormtroopers; they a bit of an attention magnet." He looks up at Danik and chuckles, but sighs a bit. "I've been wandering around too long...I need to find a cause to keep going. I've been having dreams...I don't know who I am, really. Lord Malign has seen this." "Eh..." He shrugs off, glancing up at Sandor. "The Sergeant Major here is a hell of a shot. Hell, he reminds me of myself when I first started in this mess. Don't take me wrong, Sergeant Major...I hold no ill-will against you, this is just a bit of a shock for me. It's like learning to breathe again." Danik chuckled. "His reputation speaks for himself, Sergeant Major," Danik said, placing his fedora and jacket down on the bench he was at, and then stood up. "And I don't care much for the Colonel. I don't trust the man. He was a rebel Army officer, fought at Etti IV and many other battles. Killed men just like you. Then he worked for the bloody Casparians, too, damn rebels.." he said, chuckling. "Who knows where his loyalties truly lie. So don't tell me about his orders. My authority comes from the Warlord." Danik folded his arms across his chest, and proceeded closer to Cantrell. "So you've told me before. And, you shouldn't have any ill-feelings towards the good Sergeant Major, either. This man saved my life quite a few times," Danik added. Danik grinned. "Learning to breathe again, hm?" Danik's hands grasped two hilts peeking out of sheaths attached to his belt, and he quickly pulled out two vibrorapiers. "Let's see how much you remember, Wescal," he said, nodding over to the wall behind the fellow man, where a case of vibroblades laid. "You too, Sergeant Major. Let's see if I can keep up with you young people still." As much as Sandor relished the chance of facing off against the aging Danik Kreldin, even he realized that doing it in a melee would be a fairly insane idea. While not especially hurried, the diminutive NCO pulls his DY-255 heavy blaster pistol and readies it in his hand, aiming it towards Kreldin. "I hope you don't mind a bit of progressive thinking," he offered cheerfully in a pseudo-apology for his pistol, before moving his hand onto the stun function carried on it, flipping it on. Turning his head to Cantrell, he squints a bit, shaking his head slightly. "I hope you're as good as you say you are!" Taking the iniative, the Sergeant Major waits no longer before pulling his finger down upon the DY's trigger, sending a stun bolt towards Danik. Perhaps after the man was a bit weary, Sandor would try his like at swordfighting. "We shall duel." Danik announced, gripping his two vibrorapiers. The very two vibrorapiers that fell from his grasp upon Sandor's cheap shot. A stun blast impacts against Kreldin, knocking him back slightly and into the bench he was previously sitting at. Fortunately, however, his light armor managed to asorb a tiny bit of it, and the stun blast managed to do nothing more than make Danik slightly dizzy and his vision blurry for a few moments, his stamina more than enough to handle it. He recollected himself rather quickly, and he saw Sergeant Major Woden standing before him, DY-255 drawn. The hell? He acted quickly; jumping up from the bench, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a vibro-knife, wielding it in his right hand as he charged at the younger soldier. He attempted to tackle the the sergeant major down, his knife making a motion upward so he could bring it to the sergeant major's neck if his tackle succeed. Sandor knew all too well what he had done, even as he had fired his first shot. It was a stun blast, after all, and thus far it had worked wonderfully. Many eyes looked upon him in shock, however, and he wouldn't have very long before an attempt would be made at restraining him at this rate. Tossing his DY-255 to the ground nearby, Sandor grins a bit at Danik for a split moment of his body remaining silent. The old man would have to forgive him, he had said he wanted to test his mettle, after all, and what better way than by making it as close to a real fight as possible? Just so long as he stopped whenever security managed to arrive, Sandor assumed he would be fine, once the red tape had gone through. Once more moving, however, Sandor closes the gap that Danik's failed tackle had made, bringing his boot up at the last moment in a lengthy side-kick. Perhaps he would be able to catch the Imperial Legend offguard long enough to land the blow. Danik's attempt to tackle the younger soldier down failed, and Danik found himself the victim of a rather quick counter-attack; the kick bashed into Danik's side, causing him to fall and drop his knife, which skidded across the durasteel floor. Fortunately the kick didn't land much power behind it, but coupled in with the stun blast before, Danik was getting a bit woozy, not to mention he was an old man. Still, he wasn't about to give up to this crazy and cheap young man, whom he previously had trusted. No, he would not lose. Still on the ground, Danik retrieved his Firelance blaster rifle he had concealed and looked up at Sandor, a grin on his face as he let off a stun blast. It seemed the older man, too, was understanding the nature of the game. Nothing mattered at this point; loyalties, ranks, ages, or anything around the two. For Sandor, everything relied on defeating the man before him in a test of skill, even if that meant having to dodge shots from blasters to do it. Still, he didn't want things to sour too badly with the older man, for it was Sandor whose life was on the line here, not his. "No hard feelings, Kreldin, you know!", Sandor excitedly informed him, almost shouted at the veteran pilot, really. Cantrell had wisely stayed out of the fight so far, but Sandor didn't know how long his luck would last; only that for him, things did matter, it appeared. He would doubtlessly come in on the side of his friend, so Sandor would need to finish this before that point. Daring a charge, his eyes wide with excitement and alit with the fire that comes from putting everything on the line, the likely soon to be ex-Sergeant Major moves to try to land a hit to the larger man's head. Perhaps then the sniper's insatiable ambitions would finally falter, with such a feat. Danik drops his Firelance as it misses, not daring another shot since Sandor was charging him. Too late to fire now. Instead, as the soldier attempts to hit Danik while he was still down, Danik reaches up and grabs the soldier by his legs and drew him down with him. Finally, Kreldin thought in the back of his head, something went his way for a chance. With Sandor down on the floor, Danik shot up and turned around to get a lead on Sandor before he managed to regain his footing. Revealing his last vibro-knife, tucked away within his clothing, Danik shot down for Sandor in an attempt to grab his neck and place the vibro-knife before it. He was going to end this fight. Although Sandor felt that he could break free if he needed to, at the moment, it didn't matter to him. He'd tried his best, but it seems that the older man truly was gifted by something beyond just luck; doubtlessly that had been why he had sent so many men to their deaths in the Jungle, in what now felt so long ago for Sandor. The nightmares were always so vivid, though, that he felt uncomfortable being called "friend" by the murderer Danik Kreldin. "Do it, then, if you're going to," the Sergeant Major informed him, calmly, "Maybe you can live with so many deaths on your hands, but, I know I shouldn't have made it out of my first mission. If it wasn't for blind luck, I would be dead with the rest of them." Sandor's eyes didn't focus on Danik in the slightest, though, but instead off into space. He now saw only the memories of a disasterous effort to retake an Imperial garrison, the slaughter of several people he had almost come to call friends, and the ditch that had saved his life in a massive explosion after the forces holding it had given up on their cause and detonated their trump card. At the end of the exchange, a simple clap can be heard from where Cantrell is seated. "Bravo, old man. Bravo." He gets up, moving over the two. "I'm sorry to say this, but the good Colonel was right. The IGF has definately gotten soft." He offers each men one of his hands. "Never seen you fight like that before, Danik. What the hell have they been feeding you here?" With his knife successfully at Sandor's throat, Danik had achieved his victory, but it was a hallow one. It didn't equate to anything. His breathing was heavy, sweat pouring profusely; he was too old for this, and he was lucky he managed to end it before he fainted. "No. I won't take your life, Woden. Listen, Sergeant, I've killed close to four hundred people behind the controls of a starfighter. I've led many squadrons into battle over countless campaigns, battles and skirmishes. I've lost a lot of comrades. Too many, in fact. I've been fighting three wars for thirty-six years now," he said, retracting his knife from Sandor and standing up. "Thirty-six years. Three wars. The Clone Wars. The Civil War. And my demons." Danik began to pace around Sandor, looking down at the younger man. "You've been here for several months. You don't know what it's really like. You weren't at Jabiim, you weren't at Coruscant, you weren't at Etti IV. You've seen nothing yet. I only go on living because I know there is something I must finish in my life. That is why I haven't died. It's also why you haven't died yet. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about all those who have died. And you know, at this point it doesn't matter. There have been so many, so many deaths. You don't know what I go through, not in the least bit. You're still fresh." Danik was becoming lost in his world now, as his depression began to sink in. He had been suffering from severe depression ever since the Battle of Jabiim, nearly thirty-five years ago. He was beginning to lose himself, too. His other personality nearly seeping through. But Danik held on, and eventually Cantrell snapped him out of it as he began to applaud. He only stared at Cantrell for a few moments, before beginning to collect his weapons he had dropped. At this point Sandor is resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. Though he did manage to sit up, he sat with the knowledge that everything that had driven him so far was only a fraction of what he would likely end up having to endure. Simply because various people had challenged the New Order, and formed entire groups dedicated to spreading chaos and disorder around the galaxy for the simple reason that they mainted a few different beliefs about how government should be run. The very notion of it seemed disgusting to him, but he also realized that now the Empire had become a similar entity, and decided he would need to spend a considerable length reflecting on that. Now lost in thought, he doesn't speak up against Danik, instead trying to take his words to heart and maybe find an explanation for why things had to be the way they are. Because sometimes, just moving forward wasn't enough for the young sniper. "Bah Danik...you are going mad." Cantrell scoffs, watching his old friend go on in a tyrade. He knows his friend well, and his friend has been in the fight far more than Cantrell has. "You know who dies, Danik? The weak dies. Have you forgotten that? I've been in this war off and on, for...nearly 10 years. No where as long as you, but i've learned that the weak are the ones who perish." Shrugging his shoulders, he takes a seat again, trying to change the mood of the situation, never one to like somber situations like this. "You my friend are among one of the strongest individuals i've ever met. Hell, even stronger than yours truely." He adds with a sheepish grin, gesturing a seat for the both. "Most i've survived was a grenade blast to the face." He turns to the Sergeant Major. "You have some nice moves, Sergeant Major. Hell, I might even learn a thing or two from you after all." Danik was already mad. Do you really think Danik Kreldin would simply massacre four hundred innocent civilians on Chandrila, live on IGNews, if something wasn't wrong with the man up in the head? "It's more than just about who is strong and weak, Cantrell. Don't take such a narrow view of it. It's true, there are the weak," Danik said as he placed his fedora on, and threw his coat over his suit. "and there are the strong. But it's also about the emotions you carry into battle. What you believe in. What you believed in. What to look forward to." As Danik prepared to leave, the naval guards made their way through the crowd that had crowded around the fight, their weapons trained on Sandor. "No, Cantrell. I'm one of the weak. But I must go on fighting, anyway, for what I believe in. And that's what carries me on." Tapping his fedora down on his head, Danik waved off one of the naval guards who asked about his condition. "Sandor, you won't make it very far in the military this way. You'll need to learn to cut off your emotions and focus only on the mission," he added as he prepared to make his way towards the exit. "Cantrell. See to it that Sandor doesn't spend too long in jail." From SW1ki, a Wikia wiki.
- Although likely not first into the recreation deck by any means, of the pair that had departed from Colonel Halwinder's cabin he was indeed in the lead coming into the recreation area. No doubt plenty of entertainment could be sought there, and was being enjoyed by offduty personel, in the meantime Sandor had obligations to perform. While he hadn't realized he would be placed in charge of Cantrell himself, he had been made aware that he ought to lead him here shortly before attending the meeting that had bestowed a new rank upon him, and indeed, made Sandor Woden very much a rarity amongst people in their early twenties. He waves his hand across the room in a gesture to acknowledge the task set before him, and shortly before Cantrell as well, all the while his eyes searching for a particular person, but thus far coming up empty. Ah the Rec Deck. A place Cantrell used to frequent alot in his tour of duty. A faint smile creeps on the old soldier's face as he recognizes the target range, where he actually lost to a good friend of his. Never really bitter about it, for as he was considered one of the better shots in the Empire and lost to a fly boy, he remembers many a time that his ace pilot friend was bested in combat in his area of expertise. He spies the rifle strapped to the Sergeant Major's back, his brow furrowed. "Forgive me for saying, but that's a nice looking piece of hardware you got there, Sergeant Major. You used it yet?" It seemed, all rank and pride issues aside, the two men really did have some common ground. "More than any other of my limbs," he grinned at Cantrell, taking in a bit of a breath, "This rifle took down a Wookiee in a hunt across a desolate wasteland, and has been the direct cause of death for a number of officers and enlisted men alike in several rebel movements across the galaxy. Even shot a squid with it in an alley, recently." Sandor almost seemed to wince at that last remark, however, and with good reason. He wasn't about to admit that the alien in question, Thrask, had proceded to leave him near-death with a well-placed sword swing afterwards. "There are better implements for my task, I'm well aware, but I don't really think I can part with this rifle at this point." Reaching back to pat the Blastech F-31 Laser Sniper rifle, Sandor's grin fades into a bit more determined an expression. He did have a job to do here, after all. Taking the rifle down from his back, the Sergeant Major presents it in both arms to Cantrell. "All right, Corporal, let's see how you are with it." "Damn...light gun." Cantrell inspects the gun carefully, taking aim down the barrel, not paying any mind to the scope that's on it. "They spoil the IGF too much. Back when I first started, we just used an ST-II and our eyes." He levels the rifle ahead and aims for a bottle thats in the other end of the room, snapping off a shot. "Nice..." He looks up, seeing a perfect circle through the middle of the glass bottle, a good 200 yards away. His coat wrapped around his arm, Danik Kreldin walked into the recreation area through the crew deck, his eyes immediately scanning the room for two familiar faces. He had heard a rumor that Wescal was back, and that Sandor had received his latest promotion to sergeant major. So, in an effort to meet his old friend, Wescal, and congratulate his new friend, Sandor, Danik hunted them down and the trail led to the recreation area, where the two war heroes were off by the targetting range. Apparently Wescal was trying out Sandor's trusty sniper rifle, the F-31, a weapon that Danik had come to appreciate after all he had been through with the young sniper. Danik walked over to the two, slipping his fedora off his head. "Well, well, well... long time no see, Wescal." After Cantrell's shot, the F-31 is returned to Sergeant Major Woden's hands, where it rests in his eager grasp. Turning to Danik, Sandor offers a quick salute, though he honestly had to wonder if any of that was even neccesary, given the peculiar nature of the older man's rank, and couldn't manage more in any case, given that he didn't dare lose hold of the sniper rifle. Not even when a soldier placed into his charge wasn't around would he dare risk such a thing. He takes up the rifle, however, and aims at a similar bottle placed at about the same distance down the firing range. Unlike the seemingly more conserative Corporal, the young sniper rest's his eye a short distance behind the lens of his rifle's scope, and lines up a shot of his own. Squeezing down upon the trigger, a brilliant arc of light travels down the length of the range towards the bottle, shattering the bottle, though at a bit more awkward an angle than the Corporal had. Still, the end result was the same, and he straps the weapon across his back once more, the display having been made and the Corporal's shot matched, to a degree. "What?" Cantrell turns around, just to see a familiar face, and this time around, really needed to see a familiar face. "Danik...you still haven't died." He says with a wide tooth grin, though it disappears as he looks back at Sandor. "Er...I mean, sir." He changes his attitude and tone drastically, snapping into attention and offering him a salute. "I'm back in the Ground Forces. I grew tired of waiting and not being able to spill the blood of the New Republic." "Dead? Me? No. Not yet, at least. Getting old, though," Danik said with a smile, taking a seat nearby. "Eh, forget the formalities, no need," he said, to both Sandor and Cantrell as they offered their salutes and sirs. He didn't want any of it, nor did he really need it at this point. "Ground Forces? A man like you doesn't belong in the infantry. You're a stormtrooper, Wescal, not to mention a major. Why the hell are you wearing corporal chevrons?" he asked, observing the man's ranks. "Rather odd to see a veteran like yourself reduced to such a low rank. The guys upstairs have no sense at all," he said, shaking his head. "Sigh..but, whatever, at least you're in the front again. Maybe we can get the job done properly finally; I'm not very good at leading a ground campaign," he said, looking over to Sandor. He had led several ground campaigns before, when there was no else to fill in, and although they ended in success all the time, Danik was just not fit out for that role. He belonged in space, period. "So, the Sergeant Major is teaching you the ropes all over again, hm?" Sandor is quick to shake his head at Danik's final remark, almost seeming to become disappointed by it as he responds. "Your friend, the Corporal here, is showing me that he already has the makings of a fine soldier. He's just neglected his calling for a bit too long, so we're getting him up to speed." Sandor almost let it go there, but a flash of distress comes across his face, as he realizes that he didn't neccesarily agree with the concept. Cantrell was already a fine soldier, and whatever had caused him to give up on his duty appeared to be long gone from his personality. "Colonel Halwinder's orders," he adds, a bit coldly. "Apparently the good Colonel doesn't hold much reguard of my abilities as you do, Danik." Cantrell chuckles, propping himself onto a chair, shrugging his shoulder. "Ground Forces, Stormtroopers...it's all the same. I'd personally would rather the olive drabs of Infantry over the stark white armor of Stormtroopers; they a bit of an attention magnet." He looks up at Danik and chuckles, but sighs a bit. "I've been wandering around too long...I need to find a cause to keep going. I've been having dreams...I don't know who I am, really. Lord Malign has seen this." "Eh..." He shrugs off, glancing up at Sandor. "The Sergeant Major here is a hell of a shot. Hell, he reminds me of myself when I first started in this mess. Don't take me wrong, Sergeant Major...I hold no ill-will against you, this is just a bit of a shock for me. It's like learning to breathe again." Danik chuckled. "His reputation speaks for himself, Sergeant Major," Danik said, placing his fedora and jacket down on the bench he was at, and then stood up. "And I don't care much for the Colonel. I don't trust the man. He was a rebel Army officer, fought at Etti IV and many other battles. Killed men just like you. Then he worked for the bloody Casparians, too, damn rebels.." he said, chuckling. "Who knows where his loyalties truly lie. So don't tell me about his orders. My authority comes from the Warlord." Danik folded his arms across his chest, and proceeded closer to Cantrell. "So you've told me before. And, you shouldn't have any ill-feelings towards the good Sergeant Major, either. This man saved my life quite a few times," Danik added. Danik grinned. "Learning to breathe again, hm?" Danik's hands grasped two hilts peeking out of sheaths attached to his belt, and he quickly pulled out two vibrorapiers. "Let's see how much you remember, Wescal," he said, nodding over to the wall behind the fellow man, where a case of vibroblades laid. "You too, Sergeant Major. Let's see if I can keep up with you young people still." As much as Sandor relished the chance of facing off against the aging Danik Kreldin, even he realized that doing it in a melee would be a fairly insane idea. While not especially hurried, the diminutive NCO pulls his DY-255 heavy blaster pistol and readies it in his hand, aiming it towards Kreldin. "I hope you don't mind a bit of progressive thinking," he offered cheerfully in a pseudo-apology for his pistol, before moving his hand onto the stun function carried on it, flipping it on. Turning his head to Cantrell, he squints a bit, shaking his head slightly. "I hope you're as good as you say you are!" Taking the iniative, the Sergeant Major waits no longer before pulling his finger down upon the DY's trigger, sending a stun bolt towards Danik. Perhaps after the man was a bit weary, Sandor would try his like at swordfighting. "We shall duel." Danik announced, gripping his two vibrorapiers. The very two vibrorapiers that fell from his grasp upon Sandor's cheap shot. A stun blast impacts against Kreldin, knocking him back slightly and into the bench he was previously sitting at. Fortunately, however, his light armor managed to asorb a tiny bit of it, and the stun blast managed to do nothing more than make Danik slightly dizzy and his vision blurry for a few moments, his stamina more than enough to handle it. He recollected himself rather quickly, and he saw Sergeant Major Woden standing before him, DY-255 drawn. The hell? He acted quickly; jumping up from the bench, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a vibro-knife, wielding it in his right hand as he charged at the younger soldier. He attempted to tackle the the sergeant major down, his knife making a motion upward so he could bring it to the sergeant major's neck if his tackle succeed. Sandor knew all too well what he had done, even as he had fired his first shot. It was a stun blast, after all, and thus far it had worked wonderfully. Many eyes looked upon him in shock, however, and he wouldn't have very long before an attempt would be made at restraining him at this rate. Tossing his DY-255 to the ground nearby, Sandor grins a bit at Danik for a split moment of his body remaining silent. The old man would have to forgive him, he had said he wanted to test his mettle, after all, and what better way than by making it as close to a real fight as possible? Just so long as he stopped whenever security managed to arrive, Sandor assumed he would be fine, once the red tape had gone through. Once more moving, however, Sandor closes the gap that Danik's failed tackle had made, bringing his boot up at the last moment in a lengthy side-kick. Perhaps he would be able to catch the Imperial Legend offguard long enough to land the blow. Danik's attempt to tackle the younger soldier down failed, and Danik found himself the victim of a rather quick counter-attack; the kick bashed into Danik's side, causing him to fall and drop his knife, which skidded across the durasteel floor. Fortunately the kick didn't land much power behind it, but coupled in with the stun blast before, Danik was getting a bit woozy, not to mention he was an old man. Still, he wasn't about to give up to this crazy and cheap young man, whom he previously had trusted. No, he would not lose. Still on the ground, Danik retrieved his Firelance blaster rifle he had concealed and looked up at Sandor, a grin on his face as he let off a stun blast. It seemed the older man, too, was understanding the nature of the game. Nothing mattered at this point; loyalties, ranks, ages, or anything around the two. For Sandor, everything relied on defeating the man before him in a test of skill, even if that meant having to dodge shots from blasters to do it. Still, he didn't want things to sour too badly with the older man, for it was Sandor whose life was on the line here, not his. "No hard feelings, Kreldin, you know!", Sandor excitedly informed him, almost shouted at the veteran pilot, really. Cantrell had wisely stayed out of the fight so far, but Sandor didn't know how long his luck would last; only that for him, things did matter, it appeared. He would doubtlessly come in on the side of his friend, so Sandor would need to finish this before that point. Daring a charge, his eyes wide with excitement and alit with the fire that comes from putting everything on the line, the likely soon to be ex-Sergeant Major moves to try to land a hit to the larger man's head. Perhaps then the sniper's insatiable ambitions would finally falter, with such a feat. Danik drops his Firelance as it misses, not daring another shot since Sandor was charging him. Too late to fire now. Instead, as the soldier attempts to hit Danik while he was still down, Danik reaches up and grabs the soldier by his legs and drew him down with him. Finally, Kreldin thought in the back of his head, something went his way for a chance. With Sandor down on the floor, Danik shot up and turned around to get a lead on Sandor before he managed to regain his footing. Revealing his last vibro-knife, tucked away within his clothing, Danik shot down for Sandor in an attempt to grab his neck and place the vibro-knife before it. He was going to end this fight. Although Sandor felt that he could break free if he needed to, at the moment, it didn't matter to him. He'd tried his best, but it seems that the older man truly was gifted by something beyond just luck; doubtlessly that had been why he had sent so many men to their deaths in the Jungle, in what now felt so long ago for Sandor. The nightmares were always so vivid, though, that he felt uncomfortable being called "friend" by the murderer Danik Kreldin. "Do it, then, if you're going to," the Sergeant Major informed him, calmly, "Maybe you can live with so many deaths on your hands, but, I know I shouldn't have made it out of my first mission. If it wasn't for blind luck, I would be dead with the rest of them." Sandor's eyes didn't focus on Danik in the slightest, though, but instead off into space. He now saw only the memories of a disasterous effort to retake an Imperial garrison, the slaughter of several people he had almost come to call friends, and the ditch that had saved his life in a massive explosion after the forces holding it had given up on their cause and detonated their trump card. At the end of the exchange, a simple clap can be heard from where Cantrell is seated. "Bravo, old man. Bravo." He gets up, moving over the two. "I'm sorry to say this, but the good Colonel was right. The IGF has definately gotten soft." He offers each men one of his hands. "Never seen you fight like that before, Danik. What the hell have they been feeding you here?" With his knife successfully at Sandor's throat, Danik had achieved his victory, but it was a hallow one. It didn't equate to anything. His breathing was heavy, sweat pouring profusely; he was too old for this, and he was lucky he managed to end it before he fainted. "No. I won't take your life, Woden. Listen, Sergeant, I've killed close to four hundred people behind the controls of a starfighter. I've led many squadrons into battle over countless campaigns, battles and skirmishes. I've lost a lot of comrades. Too many, in fact. I've been fighting three wars for thirty-six years now," he said, retracting his knife from Sandor and standing up. "Thirty-six years. Three wars. The Clone Wars. The Civil War. And my demons." Danik began to pace around Sandor, looking down at the younger man. "You've been here for several months. You don't know what it's really like. You weren't at Jabiim, you weren't at Coruscant, you weren't at Etti IV. You've seen nothing yet. I only go on living because I know there is something I must finish in my life. That is why I haven't died. It's also why you haven't died yet. There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about all those who have died. And you know, at this point it doesn't matter. There have been so many, so many deaths. You don't know what I go through, not in the least bit. You're still fresh." Danik was becoming lost in his world now, as his depression began to sink in. He had been suffering from severe depression ever since the Battle of Jabiim, nearly thirty-five years ago. He was beginning to lose himself, too. His other personality nearly seeping through. But Danik held on, and eventually Cantrell snapped him out of it as he began to applaud. He only stared at Cantrell for a few moments, before beginning to collect his weapons he had dropped. At this point Sandor is resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. Though he did manage to sit up, he sat with the knowledge that everything that had driven him so far was only a fraction of what he would likely end up having to endure. Simply because various people had challenged the New Order, and formed entire groups dedicated to spreading chaos and disorder around the galaxy for the simple reason that they mainted a few different beliefs about how government should be run. The very notion of it seemed disgusting to him, but he also realized that now the Empire had become a similar entity, and decided he would need to spend a considerable length reflecting on that. Now lost in thought, he doesn't speak up against Danik, instead trying to take his words to heart and maybe find an explanation for why things had to be the way they are. Because sometimes, just moving forward wasn't enough for the young sniper. "Bah Danik...you are going mad." Cantrell scoffs, watching his old friend go on in a tyrade. He knows his friend well, and his friend has been in the fight far more than Cantrell has. "You know who dies, Danik? The weak dies. Have you forgotten that? I've been in this war off and on, for...nearly 10 years. No where as long as you, but i've learned that the weak are the ones who perish." Shrugging his shoulders, he takes a seat again, trying to change the mood of the situation, never one to like somber situations like this. "You my friend are among one of the strongest individuals i've ever met. Hell, even stronger than yours truely." He adds with a sheepish grin, gesturing a seat for the both. "Most i've survived was a grenade blast to the face." He turns to the Sergeant Major. "You have some nice moves, Sergeant Major. Hell, I might even learn a thing or two from you after all." Danik was already mad. Do you really think Danik Kreldin would simply massacre four hundred innocent civilians on Chandrila, live on IGNews, if something wasn't wrong with the man up in the head? "It's more than just about who is strong and weak, Cantrell. Don't take such a narrow view of it. It's true, there are the weak," Danik said as he placed his fedora on, and threw his coat over his suit. "and there are the strong. But it's also about the emotions you carry into battle. What you believe in. What you believed in. What to look forward to." As Danik prepared to leave, the naval guards made their way through the crowd that had crowded around the fight, their weapons trained on Sandor. "No, Cantrell. I'm one of the weak. But I must go on fighting, anyway, for what I believe in. And that's what carries me on." Tapping his fedora down on his head, Danik waved off one of the naval guards who asked about his condition. "Sandor, you won't make it very far in the military this way. You'll need to learn to cut off your emotions and focus only on the mission," he added as he prepared to make his way towards the exit. "Cantrell. See to it that Sandor doesn't spend too long in jail."
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