Private Light The Fuse

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

Arca Dreyn had been one among many. After the attack on Ryloth many found themselves beelining towards enlistment centers - specially those who had lost everything. She was sure many of them felt it would somehow help to quench their anger and need for vengeance, but she knew that, in the end, it was about something a lot more simple than that. Purpose. She had led the life of a slave, and even though she looked back upon those days with disdain - nothing could offer purpose and direction as much as serving did.

This time, at least, it would be on her own terms.

She had been no stranger to war and battle before being freed by the CIS. Combat and her talent with explosives predated the recent events by many years - they were rooted in her youth. Magrody had been short of raising child soldiers by merely a few years, and after she had been rid of him in her adulthood, Dreyn could have sworn she was certain she'd ever see battle again. Life had proven her wrong, in the worst of ways. She had been kicked down, and she had gotten back up because that was all there was left to do. And now it was time to move on.

Her background had made the training period an easy endeavor, passed with flying colors. It was no surprise either that she had proven herself a lot better suited for special operations than for the proper army, for although more illegal in nature the missions she would have to embark on in the past while in Magrody's service shared enough similarities. Only the Dauntless served for a good cause, one that would hopefully allow her to sleep at night with no more remorse than the one she already secretly held.

Upon her arrival to Phoenix Camp, Dreyn had received an in-processing packet and was ordered to find Master Sergeant Sharp. That was exactly what she was doing now as she walked down the halls of the base. Her uniform was well tended and she made sure to observe her surrounding in order to begin learning her way around the base.

Eventually she found her destination, the motor pool. If the indications given were correct, her superior would be waiting there. The arkanian approached, stopping an appropriate distance away from the sergeant before saluting. Her voice was clear and even, fully white eyes meeting the man's own.

"Master Sergeant Sharp, Private Arca Dreyn reporting for duty."

 

[Obediah Sharp]

"You need to get the lead out of your ass and the shit out of your brains and get my damn transports operational and I mean now."

The Motor Sergeant bit his bottom lip from Master Sergeant Sharp's tongue lashing but he didn't even think to talk back to the Senior Non-Commissioned Officer. Instead the Motor Sergeant let out a muted, "Roger Sergeant" before Sharp nodded his head to give the man his leave. With the Motor Sergeant set straight that left Sharp with enough time to get back to his own tasks before their next mobilization.

Sharp turned away from the motor pool so he could make his way back to the armory, his next stop. Still, his movement was cut short when a young woman approached him, throwing up a crisp salute and reporting in. Sharp reached out to take the Arkanian's in-processing packet before glancing over the cover.

Private Arca Drayn. He briefly recalled the name falling on his desk earlier that week. A new transfer straight from the kath pen. After looking over her in-processing notes, Sharp returned her salute so she could drop her own. "Private Dreyn. Command sent your assignment orders in earlier this week. Welcome to Dauntless. On my heels, Private." He slapped the paperwork back into her hands before tapping her shoulder and leading the way to the main hall.

"You're our new transfer into Venom Squad. First Sergeant is out for the day so that leaves me to make sure you're worth a damn." He called back out to her. Sharp wore a modified version of the standard Dauntless blast armor, the only differences being relaxed joints and reinforced breast plates. His helmet was clipped to the back of his waist as well, it seemed to be a modified version of the Dauntless Airborne variant. The man was a large bear of a human, a few years short of middle age, with a noticeable scowl on his face. They turned into the next room, which was noticeably the armory. The armorer, an older man who wore a relaxed fit camo uniform turned his eyes to Sharp with an arched brow. "Sergeant Tag. Standard kit?" He asked from behind the metallic counter.

"Let's double it. Give me a standard loadout assault rifle with blaster/slug transition, blaster pistol-stock, and let's finish up with the crowd pleaser, a scattershot with rail loadout." He said before looking to the woman and gesturing to the counter. "Load up rookie. We're gonna see what you got." He told her. Once the woman had her weapons, Sharp would gesture to a door in the side of the room that led to an indoor range. Sharp led the woman into the range before jerking his chin to the firing line, his voice letting out a deep baritone as he commanded her. "On the line, firing position."

Dreyn

 

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

She was used to analyzing people - it had saved her hide on more occasions than one in the past. Sergeant Sharp was...intimidating, or at least that was the word Dreyn believed most people would use to describe him. Size aside, the frown on his brown and commandeering presence were sure to make others feel uneasy. Luckily, this was something she was used to. It did not take very long for Dreyn to establish that he was not someone to mess around with and that it would be wise to avoid falling out of his good graces - or whatever there was that was similar to them.

Dropping her salute, she offered one swift nod in response before following after him. Dreyn was still getting used to being around large groups of people, even after getting freed and settling on Ryloth she had kept mostly to the family that had welcomed her and the Mandalorian she had worked with. She missed them - however now was not the time to entertain that thought, so it was discarded. The idea of being assigned to a squad was both welcome and, in a way, discouraging. She liked knowing who she worked with and fewer numbers would ensure that, she also held reserved hopes about her ability to fit in.

The only one thing she was sure about - she could get the job done and she could work with others. Those were the concerns of importance.

Sergeant Tag? The nickname caught the attention of the Arkanian who quickly committed it to memory. Nicknames and callsigns were a common thing in the armed forces, she still found them curious - usually each had its reason or story. Her, she was simply Dreyn. Not even her first name was something she was used to hearing - sometimes it didn't even feel like her own.

Her white eyes reached the table, "Yes, sir." And without losing a second she quickly and mostly quietly readied herself. She had heard people often thought it was ironic how someone who had made a livelihood out of blowing stuff up was more often than not quiet and calm. To her, that was only logical. No one wanted a hotheaded or brash person near explosives.

When they reached the range, she followed the order and positioned herself, eyes zoning in on the area ahead of her and awaiting further instruction. The second thing she felt most comfortable with after her beloved explosives was firearms - this first test should be easy enough and she hopefully would be able to prove she was worth a damn. Unless the Sergeant had something up his sleeve.

 

[Obediah Sharp]

The Master Sergeant stood behind Dreyn as she stood at the firing line. He had hard, focused eyes that looked over her stance with a practiced gaze. He'd done the skirmish, he'd done the battle, and even more pressingly he'd cut down almost four dozen green boots out of the academies and training. Each time was a bit different. Some he busted down for conduct unbecoming, some were failure to conform to a military standard, but most? Inability to perform the tasks and duties of a soldier, incompetence.

"Take your combat rifle up. You've got thirty rounds and ten targets, all at two and three hundred meters." He said, aiming his fingers down the firing line. The firing line itself for the indoor range was about one hundred meters wide, going as far back as five hundred meters. Dreyn would recognize it as the same kind of firing test that she'd taken before being approved to go to Dauntless, except there she was given forty rounds for eight targets. Here the stakes seemed to be a bit higher.

"You got one chance. Take down all ten targets. You got thirty seconds." He stepped back before glancing over at a button on the side of the far wall. "Lock and load." He commanded, giving her the order to load and prepare her weapon to fire.

In the next second Sharp slammed his hand down on the button beside him.

"Thirty seconds!" Sharp called out before the buzzer went off loudly in the room. The aisles of the firing line went bright as all of the lights above came on with a loud slam. The first target appeared dead center in the aisle. It was in the form of a white silhouette with a set of blue eyes. The blue eyes were dim, yet if Dreyn landed a shot then it would come alive with a glow.

"Target one, take him!" He yelled out, his deep baritone guiding, yet also intended on rattling the woman as she fired at the targets.

Dreyn

 

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

As the Sergeant explained the test, Dreyn limited herself to a nod and another 'yes, sir'. One chance. There was no doubt in her mind that he was being dead serious about that. It did not take a genius to see that his standards were high, and that she would be walking on a tightrope for the duration of this testing. But failing was not an option - it was as simple as that. She had made it here, and there was no way she would return to the little mechanic shop she used to work at - fixing broken down engines and keeping her side projects to herself. Not even if she wanted to.

She had made a promise.

Dreyn had made her peace with nervousness, it was natural. She had also learnt to let go of it. Nothing good came out of a too tense stance or a hesitant trigger finger. She couldn't fail and she wouldn't. After readying herself, she did not divert her gaze from the firing range even when she saw Sharp move. His rough voice was hard to ignore, her mind wanting to split her focus between him and the targets but she would allow that right now. Thirty second, thirty rounds, ten targets.

The buzzer went off and she breathed in, hearing her own heartbeat in her ears for a moment. As the first target appeared, she squeezed the trigger once - a round fired directly at the center of the target's chest. Immediately after its eyes glowed brightly, the second one appeared - faster than its predecessor. She squeezed twice. As someone who spend her time designing and making ammunition, she felt very strongly about not wasting it. But trusting her aim - the more pressing matter in this test was time, not ammo.

The kick of the rifle against her shoulder was welcomed as the familiar effort it was. It seemed as though every time she picked up her pace, the targets did too and so she had to make sure to pace herself - lest she pull herself into a situation that would force her to miss targets. Twenty-four seconds and twenty-five rounds later, the ten targets were down. One more controlled breath and she lowered the rifle, turning her head to the side to look at the Sergeant.

"I believe that's all of them."

 

[Obediah Sharp]

Sharp watched the Private take shot after shot, each one finding it's mark on the targets before them. When the last round was fired from her assault rifle, Obediah stepped forward, wrapping his hand around the stock of the weapon and pulling it into his hands. His eyes gazed down at the blast counter, which had a single number locked on the miniature screen, 5. She had finished the course with five rounds to spare. A good shot, a damn good shot. A Dauntless shot. Obediah handed the rifle back to Dreyn with a nod of approval.

"Lock and clear your weapon. Drop the ammo with the Armorer and get ready to go." He said, gesturing to the armorer standing behind the desk in the next room. He'd been watching from a viewing window behind his counter and let out a long low whistle as they emerged from the back room.

"Good shot." The man remarked. "She's got some talent."

"She's Dauntless." Was all the Sergeant said before pulling the helmet off his hip and pulling it onto his head. There was a quick seal against his helmet as he stepped out of the room. When he did, the armorer would collect the ammo from Dreyn and speak in a low tone to her. "You be careful with Sergeant Tag...or you might end up dangling around his neck like the last soldiers who pissed him off." He gave her a warning nod before taking the ammo and turning back to the lockup.

In the hall, Tag stood outside with an unreadable expression painted over the gunmetal helmet and bright blue eye slots for his helmet. "Where you from, Private?" He asked, the first time he seemed to take any kind of interest in what laid behind the rank and armor.

There were some telling signs about Sergeant Tag. For one, his altered version of the Dauntless uniform looked nothing like the standard kit. Where most armor kits had a thin coating of duraplast, his had a coating of titanium. He also held no official Confederate symbols or emblems on his armor, save for the Venom Squad emblem on his left shoulder.

The familiar chat was quickly over as Sharp spoke out once again. "Now that I see you're worth a damn I can give you the rundown. You're supposed to be our new demo specialist right? Tell me what experience you got in the field?" He demanded.

Dreyn

 

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

She watched as he examined the rifle, the tension that had formed on her shoulders from the firing quickly climbing up until it settled on the base of her neck. Tolerating it had become second nature, but now it seemed to become more insistent as she awaited judgement. The single nod was more than enough - Dreyn hadn't expected praise or congratulations. A faint, almost invisible smile curved her lips; the thought that the nod was probably as good as it would ever get in form of acknowledgement coming from the Sergeant crossed her mind and it reminded her of Kirn. The Mandalorian had also been hard to please when it came to anything related to war or battle.

By the time she returned the rifle and ammo to the Armorer, the ghost of a smile had already faded. It was replaced by a slight frown upon hearing the warning. She knew to take this sort of comments with a grain of salt, it was not uncommon for senior soldiers to try and intimidate new recruits with intimidating tales about their commanding officers. More often than not, she found them funny. They were all standing in a room full of professional killers and worried about someone with a snarky bite.

However, this time the warning raised something other disinterest within her. Quite on the contrary, it made her slightly wary and intrigued. "I'll try not to piss him off then." For some reason, that sounded a lot easier said than done. She returned the nod in a silent thank you before turning to follow Tag once again. She wasn't one to make rushed judgements, and although he did seem like the kind of person to be careful around - it took a lot more than a bad temper to wear the Arkanian down. Her past had ensured that.

His helmet was on now, and she quickly noted the differences between his armor and the standard one. Taking the fact he had put his own helmet own as her signal to do the same, she unclipped it from her belt and drew it over her head, setting it into place and feeling at home behind its dark cover. The blue skull display that had become her personal mark and distinguishing feature during her training was currently off, and so the helmet seemed absolutely black.

The question was something she had not expected. Even after some years, it was still tough to talk about her past. People often viewed her in a different light after finding out and it was not something she appreciated. Dreyn answered with the truth, but concisely - seeking to avoid revealing more than she needed to. "I was born on Arkania. Ryloth is my home." Indeed, a member of the scarred generation. Even using the word born felt slightly off. Created would have been a better term - but she no longer wished to view herself as that.

"That is correct, Sergeant."

Then the second question came, and she knew that now the truth - or at least most of it - was unavoidable. "Formally, none, sir." She had never formed part of a proper army, her name didn't go down in any operations of renown...in truth, the name Arca Dreyn had not truly existed in any record of any kind until she was freed from slavery. "Off the books, I was created and raised to form part of a clandestine strike force. I served my master until I was liberated by Confederate forces and relocated to Ryloth." She had not used the word slave, leaving the statement to be rather vague.

She pressed forward with a question of her own, simple and easy to dismiss - a prudent choice given that she was unsure if he'd take kindly to her questioning. "Are you originally from Scarif, Sergeant?"

 

[Obediah Sharp]

When the woman said she'd made her home on Ryloth that caused Sharp's steps to halt before he turned back to look back at the woman. So there it was. The latest generation of soldier who were born from the inhumane and self-righteous acts of terrorists. They were flooding the Defense Force, day after day, more of these hot headed recruits who had something to prove. The most insane thing about this newest generation was that they were absolutely ruthless. Expert soldiers of promise and dedication who were a shining example of what it means to be a soldier.

The salt with that thought?

They didn't know every fething thing yet. It was experience, in Sharp's world, that trumped the hotheaded ambition. However, when those two aspects fused together? It made for a powerful soldier.

Dreyn answered Sharp's question and he nodded at her words. Still, what she had said sat ill in his gut. Master. A word that danced to the tune of slavery and oppression which made Sharp's blood boil.

"There are no masters here." He said, finding some small irony in the fact his rank was indeed Master Sergeant. However, the term Master within that rank was meant to denote those who were tasked with showing the way for others and providing a guiding hand.

That was his role here. As he looked to the young Arkanian woman he couldn't help but wonder if she would be one he would guide? The next question was where was Sharp originally from. This caused him to glance back at the woman. "I was born in a drifter colony. A nomad fleet that danced around the outer rim."

They were moving down the hall leading back to the motor pool when Sharp turned to Drern with an arched brow. "Why did you join up with Dauntless?" He asked her pointedly.

 

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

The smile returned for a moment, this time hidden away under the helmet. There were no Masters here, and now that she was a Dauntless, she would help in ensuring that remained that way. The dark memories of her life as a slave threatened to surface, but she simply pushed them back. The pain, the constant fear...the lack of control.

As a slave, she and the rest of the offshoots had been entrusted with tasks that were too important to Magrody to leave to up to his trust in their obedience. Dreyn had been chipped and controlled, turned into little more than a droid made out of flesh with the skillset and insight of a sentient - devoid of will of her own but painfully aware of what she did, while unable to control it. But this was no longer her reality, thanks to the very people she now formed a part of.

She offered a nod in response to his answer. Growing up in a drifter colony must have given him a lot of knowledge and experience of the galaxy. Dreyn herself was more familiar with the northern end of the galaxy, it was only in the recent years when she had begun exploring and studying the different sectors and planets that made up the south - specially those belonging to the Confederacy, the single greatest entity in it since the fall of the Coalition.

His next question was one that she had expected. The reason for which she joined was something most people asked. Usually she just answered with a simple 'to serve'. This time, however, she decided to be more transparent. He already knew where she hailed from, and what the final push towards this had been. "After being freed I had no intention of doing this again - Dauntless or otherwise." The life she had led, briefly, on Ryloth was one she had enjoyed. It was simple, it was...happy.

"Then Ryloth happened. The routes leading to my home were landmined. Between that and the enemy freighters on the sky we were cut off from aid. Picked apart like sitting ducks." No soldiers to defend them, only the armament that had been available to them. Kirn and her had probably been the only ones in her small town with a slightest idea of what to do - and the results had reflected that. Most of them were dead now. If she had been in a different position, the story would have been different. Those landmines wouldn't have trapped them in with no hopes of escape or rescue.

Kirn knew that - and so he had charged her with making sure that never happened again, with his dying breath. "Just like most of us new recruits, I made a promise that day. I'm here to keep it." Kirn's signet, a gundark, was now part of the leathered wristband that was wrapped around her left arm beneath the armor. That was her reminder - and the only thing she had kept from her Mandalorian friend and mentor.

"How long have you served for, Sergeant?"

 

[Obediah Sharp]

Dreyn ​

"Eighteen years." That was the only response that Sergeant Sharp offered Dreyn as they moved into the motor pool. Sharp was something of an interesting one. Per the regulations he only had a few more years until he could legally retire from the military and enjoy a pretty generous retirement payment. However, in all his years serving in the military that did not cross his mind. They made it through the motor pool and into the next part of the building, the barracks.

Sharp gestured to the left side of the hall. "Female barracks is on this side of the hall, through that door. The clerk in the main office can issue you a room when you're done here."

"Seems like you got some good sense, you can shoot, and you have a reason to fight." He remarked as they turned onto the next hall. The training hall was a part of the building where soldiers could practice their hand to hand combat and combatives techniques. Sharp led the way into the main atrium where the ground was made of a faux sand material. There was a center ring lined with a wooden border in the middle of the room, that was where Sharp was heading.

When they were in the center of the room, Sharp pressed his hand onto a piece of his blast piece causing it to hiss as air flowed into his torso. Pulling the chest piece off and tossing it over the side of the border, Sergeant Sharp craned his neck. There was an audible pop, but following that was the sound of metal impacting metal. From his neck hung seven individual ID tags which he pulled off one at a time.

"So let's see if you've got it where it counts." Removing his metal boots and bracers, Sharp set them down beside the rest of his things before walking into the center of the ring.

"Show me how they teach you pups how to fight in training." He remarked, holding his fists up in a defensive position.

 

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

Eighteen years.

A part of her wanted to say that it was a long time to be a soldier, but she also knew that unless her life was cut short before it, it would probably be her destiny as well. Dreyn had no objections against it, it was what she signed up for. It gave her purpose, it gave her hope. It was her way of paying off all the times she had done wrong, even if these times had not been directly of her making, and the one time she had not done enough. Here, she was among people who understood the sentiment in ways others simply could not. It was her place to be.

When Sharp gestured towards the barracks, she gave a nod in response. Dreyn was more than satisfied with having a dry place to sleep in, her standards really weren't very high and it took very little to make her feel comfortable. That had always played in her favor. However, it was not yet time to rest. Far from it, in truth. As soon as they made their way into the training hall, Dreyn knew what was up next - and she immediately began steeling herself for it.

Like he had, she began removing her armor, setting it down. When her bracers came off, her hand went to work on the fastenings of the wrist-wrap that had the mandalorian signet embedded on it. This one she carefully placed over the chestpiece of her armor before turning around and joining Sharp on the ring. She was a better shot than she was a brawler, and she was a better tactician than she was a brute force on-the-moment planner.

But she was still Dauntless, and that meant she did have something to show for it. Hopefully it would be enough to please the superior officer.

The sergeant was taller and larger, and although the cybernetics that had been wired into her made her have a deceptive strength and quick reflexes, she was not keen on taking her chances and trying to overpower the hulk of a man. Being smart about it would be the better route, and in this case, being smart meant being swift and precise and not allowing herself to stay within his range for long.

She adopted a defensive stance, and as soon as they were both ready, Dreyn moved in to attempt to take the first hit. She was quick on her feet, watching out for any counters before feinting with her right hand and aiming a jab at his side with her left, and dominant, one. She would have to rely on speed and evasion, for everything else seemed to be in Tag's favor. Including experience.

 

[Obediah Sharp]

Dreyn​

Test them.

He remembered the words spoken to him when he first went to his Instructor's courses. It was not enough to teach a soldier or lead a soldier. If you truly wanted to prove they had the heart and soul to fight, then you needed to test it. They needed to stand against the odds and come out on top...or at the very least go down kicking and screaming. The large man tensed his fists for a single moment before turning his eyes to Dreyn and watching her closely.

She was small but she was an Arkanian. Bred for war they were not known for being one-note combatants. Perhaps she would work as something of a test for Sharp as well?

He watched her step into the ring, her feet sliding into the sand and causing him to eye the ground closely.

Sand. Blood and Sand.

His mind flashed for a single moment and then his expression deepened. He had to stay out of his mind, it was a dangerous place on the best of days and today was not the best. Dreyn moved into action, casing Sharp's eyes to quirk. Taking the advantage with an opponent you don't know? It was either a good maneuver or a foolish one. Time would tell.

Her fist flew out, aiming to strike at Sharp's left side, however just before she connected it was revealed to be a faint. Although Sharp was prepared to block the jab from the left he did not follow through to defend his right side. Instead he turned his torso out, pulling his shoulder back from the woman in a quick swivel. The blow landed and even from the glancing strike Sharp knew this woman was more than she seemed.

Good.

He wasted no time.

His hands lashed out, one aimed to grip Dreyn's bicep while the other took hold of her wrist on the same arm. Following through on the momentum of his pivot, he continued, this time trying to drag Dreyn to the ground with a hard pull.

 

[Dreyn]

Location: Camp Phoenix, Scarif.
Tagging: Obediah Sharp

Her punch, even if not fully, had reached its mark. While this did not go up to her head, it did make some of her confidence resurface. The element of surprise would be harder to employ throughout the rest of the spar, but at least now she knew she could be fast enough to land a blow on him. It was now only a matter of playing her cards right, timing, and defense. She could feel the Sergeant's hands grabbing a hold of her arm.

The counter had been a great one - she had expected nothing less form him. Of course, this did not mean that a mute curse didn't resonate within her mind at the realization. Going down was never a good plan, the vulnerability it put one in could often be a point of no return. So her main priority right now was making sure that did not happen.

As Sharp pushed her forward, Dreyn used the momentum of her own body to shift her torso, her back now turned against his chest and giving room for her free arm to come up, elbow aiming at the Sergeant's jaw. Hopefully, if it landed, the hit would be enough to get him to let go - or perhaps him trying to evade would render the same result. But as always, there was the possibility that neither of those happened and that instead reality chose to laugh on her attempt. She didn't put it past Sergeant Tag to manage to evade or block the hit and still drag her down to the ground.

It was due to this reason that her free arm was not the only limb that was repositioned. Her leg had moved to lock his, knowing that there would be no passing this test if she didn't employ every limb available correctly. Should she still fall, the weight of her own body could be enough to bring him down too.

Grappling the much larger man was not something she looked forward to, it was not the best scenario. It was still better than a kick to the gut - and Force knew she'd give it her all.