i don't kill with my gun.

He had a month. That was it; and it wasn’t a considerable amount of time to rehash and hone former skills, especially not with the operations of the medical clinic back in full swing, but with a staff he had come to know and trust over the last two years of operation, the very same that had seen him absent when prior relations of his had turned ugly and life-threatening, taking some extra time to himself wouldn’t be a problem if it meant making sure he didn’t get completely cut out of the running on his first step into the FT Arsenal Combat Arena.

Still, it wasn’t a decision made lightly, Kang never one to under-think and come to an impulsive decision that would do more harm than it would good. He considered the patients that required consistent treatment as well as those that would come in on a whim, assigning them nurse practitioners and physicians that he knew would be able to handle their particular ails. He considered the hours that said staff would be working extra and the financial gains they would actually make with additional work as well as the free time they would miss out on by covering his absence. He had even gone so far to make sure that participating in something with the risk of injury, however mild it would be compared to past military operations with the Alliance Defense Force, wouldn’t be a break of his oaths taken as a medical professional, ultimately coming to the decision that his participation wouldn’t be a cause to question his credentials.

After all, he wasn’t a pacifist, and it wouldn’t be his medical skill set that was particularly relied on in such a circumstance, that falling to a second sect of his training that aside from the occasional need to protect his Lowtown establishment—few and far between in all actuality given the security on the premises—hadn’t been utilized in some time.

It was why he wouldn’t have been found in the clinic that evening or in the typical light blue scrubs, dress attire, or physician’s coat that he usually wore. It was why he instead stood on the far end of a training range on Deck One, accompanied by a former Alliance comrade-turned-Terminus Security, with an array of weaponry behind them, most of which were FT Arsenal build given the association with the host of the event. Had it not been for the acquisition of such arms in the first place nor the opportunity to train with someone who knew what his strengths were and what he needed to work on—truthfully, the full scope of weaponry beyond a sidearm—he might have gone for somewhere a bit less government-aligned, less visited by authorities even though he had no qualms with them, but as it was, things were quiet. He expected them to be when many people were watching the races and, in turn, that meant Terminus Security and stationed Alliance Peacekeepers would be busy keeping it all in order as best as they possibly could.

“Here I thought precision would be in your wheelhouse, Kang,” his friend had said, looking over the target scores on the holo-screen nearby for a weapon that Kang couldn’t say he was as familiar with as the Predator he often carried. Kang too reviewed them and though there was little change in his expression, there was clear discontentment in his eyes that his friend knew to look out for. “Tell me why you signed up for this again when you could have just as well tried to VR challenges for the race,” he asked as he started dismantling the weapon to make sure there weren’t any rounds left, his eyes diverting up to the space race that placed in a lounge room nearby, tucked behind bulletproof glass and away from any space where rounds would be discharged.

“Because I can shoot a gun, and I cannot pilot a vessel in any capacity,” Kang said, “and before you argue with me, do I need to prove that to you one more time?” He asked, pulling up the results from the sidearm rounds which had been far more accurate than something with much more kick, the blue screen of his built-in omni-tool lighting up to brandish them large enough to see. Had he not been attempting to prove a point, it could have very well been bragging, his friend simply laughing it off as he readied a rifle a bit more balanced. It was all about finding out what Kang could use, what he felt comfortable with, and could work with in even a simulation.

“Alright, alright, smart ass,” he commented, waving him over to the appropriate lane with a jerk of his head. “Get up here. We’re going round three.”