Star Wars: Scars

Part 2 - 1

"You've made it this far, cadets. You've fought, you've killed, and you've survived. But I'm warning you now that the easy days of your training are far behind you. You are no longer kids. You are soldiers, and more than that, assassins. The mission of the Republic rests on your shoulders, and you will be called upon to carry that out. So prepare yourselves, because today begins your phase two training. Today you become men."

Two years ago, and those words still rang inside of Creed's head. He couldn't hear them without also hearing Haze's words as well. For some time he'd wondered which were true, and which were false. He wanted to believe Haze, but he hadn't been sure.

Now he knew.

Haze had been right. The Republic's mission was to make him into a killer. A murderer. Yes, he'd fought, and he'd survived, but as the officer had said, he'd killed. Killed his own batchmates to make it this far. Because the Republic didn't just want assassins. They wanted blind killers, who put a blaster bolt through the head of whatever target was put in front of them.

And I'm no blind killer.

Denying the fact he was an assassin was impossible, but Creed knew now he didn't have to follow every order blindly like he had when he was a child. And as Haze had taught him over the past two years, there were alternatives. Every order had a loophole.

"Training again tomorrow?"

Creed looked up from cleaning off his sword as he heard Haze walk back into the room. "Yeah," he said. "I don't have anything better to do," he said with a bit of a smile.

Haze nodded and sat on the bench beside him, looping an arm around his shoulders. "I like the haircut," he said, ruffling up Creed's short mohawk. Creed scrunched his face up and ducked away.

"Hey! You're gonna make it all messy again," he complained, trying to smooth his white hair back down.

Laughing softly, Haze patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, your hair is perpetually wild."

With a sour look, Creed stuck his tongue out at Haze and slid his sword back into its sheath. "And quit talking about my hair. You've mentioned it about four times already," he said.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Haze got up. "I'm just saying. It's different, but I like it. Makes you look cool."

Creed narrowed his eyes some. "Yeah, sure," he said, not entirely sure he trusted that not to be a sarcastic comment.

Haze just grinned at him. "Makes your head look a little bare, though. Does it get cold up there?" he finally teased, reaching to rub Creed's hair into a mess again.

With expert skill, Creed twisted away from him, though, struggling to contain a slight grin as he tried to give his older brother a sour look. "Shut up," he retorted.

Haze chuckled at his failed attempt to act annoyed and stopped attempting to mess up his hair. "Alright, fine. I'll shut up about it. You need to get back to your barracks before they realize you're missing though. I'll be here tomorrow."

Creed let his shoulders slump a little. He hated leaving, but Haze was right. There was always tomorrow, and at least he had more time to slip away now. He ran over and hugged Haze tight.

"See you tomorrow," he said quietly.

Wrapping his arms around him, Haze nodded and brushed a hand over Creed's hair gently this time. "See you tomorrow," he said. "Just don't grow anymore overnight. You're already practically my height," he teased softly. Thought it was true. The teenage assassin was only a head shorter now, rather than the tiny kid that he'd been when they'd met.