He sprinted through the crowd, narrowly dodging the blaster fire behind him, looking for somewhere to hide. He kept on running, running through the endless city. He heard a bang, then nothing but the soft sound of humming. Humming or ringing, he couldn't decide.
He looked left and right, his eyes searching for somewhere he can rest. Somewhere away from the Empire. It was his own fault that he'd been seen: he was the one who stole a blaster, he was the one who decided to wear his Jedi Robes out in public. He knew it was punishable by death to be a Jedi, even to help a Jedi was something you'd probably lose your life for, if caught doing so. He just hated waiting around, laying in the shadows: he had been doing it for four years. He was the oldest youngling in his class: none of the Masters had wanted to take him on. He was either too reckless, too impatient, too curious or just not what they needed right now. It wasn't his fault he wasn't the perfect Jedi, he needed someone to teach him, but nobody would.
As he continued to run, his pace slowing every time he turned a corner, he remembered that day four years ago.
The other younglings were still in the classroom, where they were meant to be, where he was meant to be. He had left, hoping to find something more interesting than just hiding in a room. He had seen all of the clone legions, near the Temple, turn on some of the elder Jedi, and so he ran. And he didn't stop until he reached the senate building. He tried to shake away the thought, it brought back too many bad memories.
In the corner of his eye he saw a red glow emerging from an alleyway. He walked towards it, he couldn't help himself, he needed to know what the light was. Then he heard it: the distinct hum of a lightsaber, something he hadn't heard in a long time. He turned around, knowing that whoever wielded the sword was bad news. As he made his way towards the end of the alleyway, he saw the group of stormtroopers closing in on him. It was a trap, one his own curiosity and stupidity had lead him straight into.
He stood still, his flushed face now turning a chalky white. He was feeling dizzy and was now struggling to breathe.
"Don't try anything Jedi, we wouldn't want something to happen to you before I hand you over to the The Emperor, do we now?"
The voice came from a tall Pau'an, one who worked for the Emperor, one who he knew to be: the Grand Inquisitor. The Grand Inquisitor held his lightsaber close to his throat, close enough for it to burn, but not close enough to kill.
"Where's your master, boy? You're too young to have survived out here for this long."
He looked at the Inquisitor, trying to hold back tears of pain, "I never had a master. No one wanted to train me."
The Grand Inquisitor looked at him and smiled, cruelly, "I think you might just be what the Emperor is after. What's your name, boy?"
He looked at the shadowy figure glaring down on him and with his eyes filled with terror, he stuttered: "Zairo, Zairo Detakal."
