FN-327 was a tall man in his early twenties, 22 to be exact. He had blond hair and blue eyes. He stood at about 5'11. He was currently placed in his sleeping quarters that he shared with about forty other Stormtroopers. He was a member of the Imperial 9th Battalion, they held the record for most kills in a single battle. He hated that. Other troops bragged of it. He hated it. FN-327 had never been given a real name he had been plucked from his mother and father, and their small uncleanly home right at birth. He still remembered whispers from the Imperial Officer brining him away from his parents. "You're better off with us boy. You would live a filthy life in this ghetto." He was such a small child, an infant. He was but three hours old and the Empire had already got their retched hands on him. He kicked, and he screamed all he wanted, but as soon as he was on that ship, he was placed in a stasis pod. He was in that stasis pod for about eighteen years. In those years he was being fed memories of growing up in a happy family on Dantooine. Every morning waking up and running outside with his father. These memories, he realized now reflecting on it, were more like thoughts. For instance, when he was six in the stasis pod, he would be experiencing the memories of being a six-year-old. These memories, or thoughts, or whatever you want to call them were all the same, until he turned about 16. He had memories of a group of people calling themselves the Resistance, landing on Dantooine, and his father and mother rushing out to greet them with open arms. He also remembered the Resistance leader, Poe Dameron, slaughtering his parents. As soon as the man drew his gun he knew what was happening, FN-327 rushed out to protect his parents. But it was too late. Poe turned to him and said. "Look what we have here. A simple-minded scum who thinks he can save these miserable people and amount to something. Let's show him what we do to scum." Just as Poe was moving his blaster hand in position to kill FN-327, a Stormtrooper barged in from behind FN-327 and tackled Poe Dameron as fast as he could, whilst doing so he pushed FN-327 out of the Resistance line of fire. "~Run!~" The man said in an almost mechanical voice that can only be achieved by one wearing the helm of an Imperial trooper. He ran and ran and ran. In the distance he could here the sound of gunfire.
He hid. Living on the outskirts of Dantooine for almost two years, he scavenged and stole and plundered whoever, and whatever he could find. Or so he thought. One day as he was strolling through a marsh, whistling a tune that his "parents" had sung to him when he was but a little boy. He caught out of the corner of his eye, a glimpse of an Imperial landing pod. I'm saved! He thought. He started toward the ship picking up speed as he went. Suddenly, a hatch on the ship slid open and he was hit with a stun gun by some very strangely dressed men, or was it aliens, or women, or bugs. He could not tell since he was rapidly losing consciousness. He had vague memories of being dragged aboard the ship. Then abruptly passing out. When he awoke he was aboard an Imperial Cruiser. He looked around him. He was laying in a stasis pod, with an Imperial Officer standing in front of him. "Welcome aboard the Herald, I am Commander Brom Titus. You are?"
"FN-327," He answered. He did not know how he came across this information. In all his memories of his life, a name had never been mentioned. "Sir." He did not know why he said Sir. It just felt, necessary.
"Very good," started Commander Titus. "Now, lay down for your medical exam to commence. FN-327 instinctively lay down. Something about this man made him know that he was in charge. A droid holding many medical appliances came out of the shadows as Commander Titus left.
"I will inform you Commander, when the exam is over." Said the droid in a robotic voice. The medical droid quickly jabbed FN-327 with a needle. FN-327 then fell unconscious.
When he woke up he was lying in a small bed lined against a wall with about twenty other beds. The other side of the tight room had twenty more beds all lined up. Each bed had a single man in them. Unexpectedly, the lights turned on and a man wearing a uniform he recognized as a Stormtrooper stepped in. The only thing different about this uniform was that he had a black patch on his shoulder. He assumed it signified a higher rank. "~Alright.~" He started in the same mechanical voice he remembered. "~Welcome to the 9th Battalion men. Training starts today!~