Attention Readers, this story is rated M for is clearly strong language, violence, and so forth. It will likely include sensual themes, but not for now.

As per a request, this story has been "Rambofied".

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, any of it's Characters, or so forth. It would be pretty awesome if I did, but it belongs to the Emperor-cough- I mean the President of Disney. Happy reading!

Forgotten Lives

Prologue

~o~

Bullets cracked and spattered against the wall of the apartment building, and more enemy soldiers took positions across the war-torn city street. More men swept past me, as I pressed against the scorched wall, they ran and dove for the cover they could find. One man couldn't make it fast enough, and was blown up by a thrown hand grenade. He was tossed onto the sidewalk, where he writhed in pain, blood oozing from his wounds.

I quickly swept my head around the corner to look for a target, when I saw an armored car with a machine gun mounted atop, opening fire on us. It was a bloodbath, I saw arms and legs scattered across the dusty pavement, and blood seemed to stain everything.

I'm just a nineteen year old in all of this mess. A recruit to this faceless army. I was trained like a dog, and I was repeatedly told that my enemy was heartless, and wished only to destroy our very way of life. It seems to me that everyone's way of life has already been destroyed. I heard that in the tropical continents near the equator, the war was in full gear. Stories of giant sea-faring vessels, blasting the living shit out of each other with weapons of unimaginable power, and then bombarding their opponent's cities and military installations, leaving nothing but charred skeletal remains and burnt ruins for miles.

I may not have agreed with these ideas, but I was certainly willing to do what I was told; be a good fucking soldier.

And I did.

I aimed my assault rifle carefully around the corner and firmly squeezed the trigger when I had that gunner in my sights. He screamed and was thrown off the back of the vehicle, rolling off onto the road. I heard another mass of soldiers rush in, armed with heavy weaponry such as missile launchers, machine guns, and sniper rifles.

The metropolis I was deployed to used to be a bustling tourist hub haven near the warm sandy coastline. It felt as if it was on the opposite side of the planet from my home, and it was a very foreign place to me and most of the soldiers alongside. The signs on the buildings were in a language I didn't even know existed, and I sometimes felt as if I wasn't even on my own planet. Massive oily clouds of smoke rose into the sky everywhere you looked, and gun fire was constantly occurring, with a large explosion or yelling every now and then.

I crouched down and swiftly ran through the doors of the war-torn apartment building. There were black stains from dried blood across the walls and floor, and bullet holes engrained deep into the plaster walls. The lights that still worked flickered randomly, and a thick layer of dust would drop from the ceiling every time an explosion occurred.

I cleared my head, and focused on my objective. Well, at least my own, stay alive. I dashed quickly, but carefully up the shattered stair well towards the roof. I heard an aircraft outside, I think a helicopter or a VTOL gunship, but I wasn't sure. For me and most other recruits in this war, we weren't given orders. We just were given our equipment and were told to follow what the rest of the soldiers did. I heard radio chatter above me, on the rooftop, and I quietly opened the roof access door. I peeked out to see white and blue striped helicopter far above me with soldiers coming down on ropes. They were the enemy, I realized, seeing them shooting straight over the edge at the soldiers directly beneath them on the street.

The helicopter would throw a volley of machine gun fire every now and then, it's twin side turrets thumping rapidly like a jackhammer. It was armed to the teeth, as were vehicles on BOTH sides. Our world was in a golden age before the war, and all that prosperity was pumped into the industrial might of the war machine, pushing new and ferocious weapons off the assembly line faster than ever before.

I got my rifle and silently positioned it through the door, with only a tiny space to see through. I looked carefully at the aircraft, looking for a way to disable it, or destroy it. I realized the cockpit of the helicopter had glass at the bottom. I took a deep breath, and said to my self; "I can do this."

I wasn't fighting for the government or the bastard political leaders behind this, I was just fighting to survive. Anyone who was wearing the colors of the opponent were out to kill you. I looked down the iron sights and slowly pulled the trigger. My heart was pounding, and I was sweating so much as if I was a walking hot spring. Then, the shot when off, and instantly I heard a crack and smash of glass. The helicopter stayed level for a short moment, and the soldiers continued roping down. Some made it to the ground, and one man actually saw me.

It was too late, though. The helicopter turned and spun out of control. I pushed my head away from the doorway, only peeking with one eye. The aircraft rapidly lost altitude, and I saw a man get thrown from the cabin into the city street below, screaming and waving his arms as he fell to his death. The soldiers on the roof realized what happened and tried to make a run for it, but before they knew it the helicopter crashed down, breaking a huge hole in the rooftop. The men who were stuck on the ropes had either been thrown off, or were crushed to death by the large aircraft. It got stuck onto the building's roof by the tail, and it tilted to the right, the rotor blades striking the concrete and sending sparks like a fountain. A few men weren't fast enough, and were sliced to pieces by the whirring blades, left to a death that not even the worst of the worst deserved.

Then I heard a loud 'pop', and the helicopter had erupted into flames, but exploded in seconds. Shrapnel was thrown into nearly every direction, and the blast sent a massive fireball into the air. I could feel the heat singe my face, and I slid down the stairs slightly and closed my eyes. I shook as I heard yelling and screaming, and my mind suffered to the horrors that occurred.

After a moment, I wiped the grime from my face and crawled back out to see the devastation: soldiers had been engulfed in fire. One man crawled with a piece of the rotor that had impaled through his right thigh, crying out in terrible agony as the fire burnt the life from his body. Their skin seemed to almost melt from the extreme heat, leaving their charred skin and some with their bones exposed.

I cringed slightly and stepped forward.

My father taught me how to fight sometime before the war, as he was a Special Forces operative from a conflict nearly a half century ago. He always told me, only fight if your own life or those of innocent people are in danger. It seemed strange, because I knew that war has always been corrupt and sometimes it's no longer about the good of the people, but for the good of one's self. My father seemed to have struggled with the war, and he knew as I do that it seemed wrong to fight when it threatened so much. I know that sometimes people don't get along, and I understand that every know and then war is necessary. For resources, for territory, or for some other reason such as breaking a pact.

My dad trained me well, as if was his fellow soldier. I learned the tactics of warfare, and exercised the ability to wield a weapon confidently, and effectively. He taught me how to use my own hands in battle, and even how to fight with a hand-to-hand weapon. Everything from knives to swords, and clubs and spears. One of the last things he told me was that he hoped that I could see a day when war was not the mainstay of everyday life. I wish he was right, but it seems even couldn't fathom what was going to happen only a decade away.

My father died at an old age, the oldest age that could be provided by the technology we had. Living a life double the length of a poorer class person. I miss him sometimes, and I wish he could still be with me, but I knew it wouldn't happen if he lived anyway. I was separated from my family as soon as I was taken.

Because of what he taught me, I was known as the "Eliminator" in our unit, but since this was a war between armed citizens, I wasn't going to get any credit. I didn't want the credit anyway, I was just doing what I was told.

I'd kill every last one of these fucking bastards until I got home.

I've been fighting this war for nearly six tough years, since I was recruited at 13 years old. I had become truly accustomed to combat, able to swiftly knock out my targets with ease.

Lost in my thoughts, I was shaken when I heard the noise of another approaching aircraft. I looked over my shoulder to see an enemy VTOL Attack Gunship with quad jet engines about two hundred feet in the air. I cursed under my breath as I moved my position to avoid being spotted. These large aircraft were truly machines of war, armed with an extensive arsenal of missiles, rotary machine guns, and dual semiautomatic cannons. These were just a small portion of the state-of-the-art tech that was introduced midway through the war.

The gunship descended quite low, and turned to face enemy forces on the streets. It selected it's priority targets and destroyed them with ease. The beast was capable of throwing consistent heavy fire wherever it was needed, and for prolonged periods of time. It circled above the streets and picked off targets, but then straightened out, and strafed down the entire roadway. The gunship's weapons were blazing when I realized that it was no longer choosing specific targets. It was now just shooting anyone who moved, and I knew I needed to do something. I shuddered slightly when I heard echoing screams cut short by the onslaught.

Let's take that thing out.

I peered from the wreck and watched as the gunship was making very low passes by the buildings, strafing the forces below. A soldier stood atop a torched storefront across the street, loading a rocket-launcher. I realized he was on the same side as the aircraft, and I watched in anguish as he tried aim, but he was ripped apart when the gunship spotted him. The launched fired as he was thrown backwards, the rocket soaring harmlessly into the air.

I frowned, and I crouched behind the scorched helicopter and began to reload my assault rifle. I took out the magazine and tossed it aside, and reached for another in my pack. I noticed to my left about five feet away was a dull grey-colored semi-automatic shotgun, still clenched in to detached hands of the soldier who wielded it. I shuddered at the sight, and my eyes watered, but I set my rifle down and I reached for the weapon. The hands were ice cold, pale, and lifeless. I grimaced as I had to pry the stiff fingers off of the gun.

Fucking nasty.

I put my rifle on my back on it's sling, and looked at the shotgun. It had seven shots left, and appeared to never have been fired. The Gunship was making another pass, and positioned myself behind the cover of the wrecked helicopter. Out of nowhere, I could feel a tremendous rumbling, and I caught sight of a colossal skyscraper in the distance crumbling down, and a large blast occurred that illuminated the cloud of dust that was kicked up.

Then, the moment came. The gunship approached, and I counted under my breath. In a few short seconds, I jumped from cover and dashed towards the aircraft as it passed by. I leapt across the gap and landed, and my gaze met with that of a gunner. He took his assault-rifle and aimed it at me. I pushed his arm to the side, causing his weapon to fly out of his hands and tumble to the streets below.

He yelled as he threw his fist at me, and I ducked under his attack. I grabbed his right leg and pushed it forward, causing him to fall onto his back.

The other gunner reached for his sidearm, and I flicked up the shotgun and squeezed the trigger. He was blasted backwards, causing him to fall off the side of the gunship. The other soldier got back to his feet, and charged at me. I knocked him in the stomach with the stock, and he crumpled down in pain. He tumbled off the side of the bay and screamed as he fell to his death. My heart was racing, and I wiped the sweat from my face. I turned and advanced quickly through the cabin when another soldier spotted me. "Say goodbye, bitch!" The attacker roared.

He had a small combat knife, and he thrusted it toward my gut. I blocked his strike with my right arm, and grabbed his wrist. He looked at me in the eyes and screamed in a berserker rage. "You bastard, I'll fucking KILL you!"

I twisted around, and snapped his arm, causing him to release the knife and cry in agony. He had bloodshot eyes, and even on the floor in pain, he advanced with the energy he had left. He pulled a pistol from his holster and struggled to aim it towards me.

He raised the weapon and spat with fury. "You motherfucker-!"

I aimed my weapon and fired, knocking him backwards. His clothes were stained with his blood, and the handgun slipped from his grasp as he coughed. His eyes rolled backwards and he gasped for a final breath before he collapsed.

As I moved into the cockpit, I could make out the sound of a deep explosion. The gunfire seemed to continue without end, and the indistinguishable shouts of soldiers filled the air.

I need to do something, I thought.

This fucking shit is pointless, I'm better than this...

I should just kill the bastards who are responsible for this war myself!

I quietly stepped into the cabin, where a single pilot had manned the gunship's controls. There was also an empty co-pilot's seat, where I assume the main weapon systems would be controlled from. I took out my knife and held it ready to attack. In a split second, the pilot hear me make a step, but it was too late. I plunged the knife into his neck, and he slouched over in the chair, blood trickling down onto his clothes. I took the pilot and put him flat on the floor of the Cockpit. The Gunship simply halted, just hovering over the rooftops.

I sat in the pilot's chair, and examined over the controls. It was by far the most complex control system I've ever seen, and I've flown aircraft before. There was a massive setup of different screens, dials, buttons, and switches. I fiddled around until I found the joystick for the Thrust Vectoring system. I knew a bit about these kinds of craft, but I worry it may not be enough.

I pushed the Joystick forward and the VTOL began to accelerate forward. I held my hands on the steering and pulled back slightly, bringing the aircraft into a small descent. I looked over my shoulder and realized that I hadn't closed the bay doors. I nervously pressed the switch labeled as so, and the doors closed relatively fast. I glanced at the altimeter, precariously watching the number increase steadily. 2000 meters and ascending, the screen read.

Suddenly, the light in the sky flickered for two or three seconds, dimming to a deep orange glow. A tremendous explosion occurred, and the clouds seemed to push away from the surface. I could hear the ground rumbling from here, and it was only getting louder. Worry struck my thoughts, and I pressed forward the throttle.

In a few moments, the flickering continued. I then realized that something was going horribly wrong. I spotted the air intake for the engines and saw that it was decreasing very rapidly. The jet engines then shorted out entirely, and we were now gliding.

Fuck... What's going on, I can't control the throttle!

I yelled in frustration as my attempts to regain control failed miserably. Then it caught my attention, the altimeter was showing negative numbers, and was changing very rapidly.

"What the-"

My vision started to fade quickly. I took a deep breath, but there simply wasn't air to breath!

No, fuck no!

"It's...D-Depressurizing..." I mumbled as my vision fell completely dark.

Darkness.

I've failed...

I was so close.

I could have been something more than a lousy recruit.