Morning….. I hate mornings…..Heliwer yawned as he got up from his bunk. His little room in the RAIDER barracks reeked of cigarettes and hard liquor. Since the little escapade on Thyveck, he had decided that he needed to work on some skills to build him up. The shell shock didn’t help out as well, as he still jumped at loud noises and his hands shook whenever he had something in them. Today, he was going to report to the close combat field to work on his fighting skills. That is, if he didn’t end up late.
After an hour of fumbling with his clothes, finally settling on a white tee and khaki shorts, he took one more swig of the half empty bottle of whiskey before heading outside. The sun blinded him momentarily, then he felt the head ache come on full force, as if a Wampa used his head like a punching bag.
Perfect…… hung over. Just what I needed…..The next thing he knew, he slowly made his way into the room where the instructor was waiting patiently for the last few students to enter. The instructor, a guy called MacAvoy, looked like he could grind rocks with his teeth and crush a man’s neck with his bare hands. Everything about him screamed that this would not be the easiest of all the classes in the Vast Empire. The clock struck nine, and he began his talk.
“Good morning, dirt bags!” He yelled with a voice like a TIE fighter’s engine. “I am your instructor for today, MacAvoy! Rank isn’t important, just remember that as long as you are in this class, your ass is mine!”
He began to pace back and forth in front of the students, sizing up each one, including Heliwer. The hope that he would ignore the trooper vanished as soon as he made a beeline towards him. “You there! What’s your name, what is that horrid smell, and why do you look like something I would scrape off of my foot?”
Taking a good breath, he responded. “Heliwer sir, the smell is probably from the cigarettes and whiskey and the fact that I haven’t gotten a shower in six months, and after about four showers I still smell like blood, dirt, grime, sweat, and war. I got drunk last night and I am a little hung over.”
A snort. Then MacAvoy turned to walk away, then slammed a boulder-like fist into Heliwer’s stomach, making the trooper fall flat onto his butt. “Wrong night to get drunk, punk.”
He then addressed the rest of the class. “At the end of this course, you WILL need medical attention, and you WILL become lethal weapons! Now break in two, scumbags!”
This is going to be a looooong day…..After the group separated, he made them form a semi-circle and ordered a student from what became known as Group Dirt Bag to stand in the middle. “Now listen up ladies! I will now show you how to disarm an opponent who is coming at you with a knife and how to effectively use your gun as a melee weapon!” He pulled out a combat knife and tossed it to the student, who fortunately caught it. Then he pulled out his blaster pistol. At the nod of his head, the student yelled and charged him.
In a split second, he had grabbed the arm, kneed the poor student in his crotch, and slammed the butt of his pistol into the head. The student fell in pain, and medics rushed in and quickly took him away. After they left, MacAvoy took Heliwer, who was in Group Scum Bag. “Now, Mr. Drunkard, come at me with your bare hands and try to pin me.”
This was the last thing on Heliwer’s mind, but he decided that if he was going to do this, he’s give it his all. He just stood still, not moving at all. The instructor kept on trying to get him to attack, but still he refused. “Eh.” He sighed. “Must be chicken.” A tap on his shoulder made him spin around…. And Heliwer punched him in his stomach. Caught off guard, MacAvoy quickly regained footing and the two went at one another until the instructor managed to pin Heliwer to the ground. Both were breathing heavy. Then a chuckle escaped Mac’s lips.
“You caught me off guard. That’s nice. You’ll do well in this course.”
A few days later, Heliwer entered the class room for the last time. Today was the final day, and he was going to put to the test everything that he learned. Over the past two days, he had learned how to effectively disarm opponents, how to come out on top when faced with more than one opponent, and how to be brutal in one on one match ups. Now, he was going for one of those match ups.
MacAvoy got the toughest student in the class to go up against Heliwer. Nicknamed the “Little Shitstorm”, or “LS”, due to his size and how ferocious he could be in hand to hand, he was the class favorite to win. The two stood about ten feet from one another in the center of the semicircle, preparing for the fight. LS was cracking his knuckles and practicing punches and jabs, kicking and stomping like a rabid animal. In contrast, Heliwer closed his eyes and remembered all he could from training and from experience.
The instructor made his way into the middle between the two opponents and looked at each one before yelling “GO!” and stepping back. LS shot forwards and went to punch straight at Heli’s chest. Immediately, the latter remembered what Mac did on the first day with the kid with the knife, and grabbed the arm, twisting it and kneeing the guy in his stomach. He didn’t give up the attack, trying for a haymaker, but the RAIDER simply ducked and slammed a fist into his face. A slight crunch was heard as LS’s nose was now broken. Pressing the advantage, Heliwer let loose a fury of punches knocking back the little trooper. He finished with an uppercut that knocked his opponent out cold. MacAvoy smirked and patted Heliwer’s shoulder.
“You used what I taught you to gain the upper hand. Nice job there.”
