He never had a name. Not really. Being bounced around from foster home to foster home wasn't exactly the best thing for a growing child. There was nothing to keep him grounded, nothing to confirm a sense of identity. Just a swift change from one empty home to the next.

They had tried to find a suitable name, each house, each foster family, with their knowing smiles, and their gentle hands. "How about Adam?" one of them asked him, "You look like an Adam to me."

And it was like that from one place to another. From Adam, to Peter, to Stewart to Brian, a different name that never seemed to fit. Social Services always called him by his number, his old address that never held any meaning for him. Foster Street, and Norris Avenue, Zip code: 2187. FN-2187.

The closest thing he had to a name, and the only thing he could call a past. An old home he could not remember, and parents who perished before their son could even be ordained properly.

FN-2187…but could that really be called a name?

"Young man? Can you hear me?"

FN-2187 glanced up from his paper, scrawled with doodles and notes, and whatever else his mind dared to conceive of. Classes at First Order Prep were nothing less than brutal. All day running drills, advanced calculous, hardly any time for meals, and a distant judgement that followed every student that walked its halls. First Order Prep was known throughout the city for its great reputation. The best academics, the best sports teams, the best teachers, and the best discipline.

"Young man!"

FN-2187, glanced from his paper, and up towards the board. The classroom, his classroom, filled with watchful eyes. "Y-yes sir?" he asked.

The teacher, a lifeless drone who only knew of back taxes, and discipline, scowled and pointed to the front of the board, "The answer, young man!" Most teachers did not know how to refer to him, his foster mother, Ms. Phasma, was more than willing to call her "son" by his old home address…it was the perfect way to keep him at a cold distance. But with teachers, they simply went to calling him "young man", as if that were any better. It wasn't.

The classroom was filled with other students. Children of different creeds, shades, sizes, all packaged into a white, crisp uniform. Iron slacks for all students, regardless of gender, and pressed white button downs, that were never to be sullied. The honor of First Order Prep began with the image of its students.

FN-2187 stood up, walked to the board, grabbed his chalk and wrote. He loved his school…mostly. But when we walked down the halls of First Order Prep, he couldn't help but feel there was something wrong. The students were all the best in the city, and with Principal Snoke running the place, it was sure to stay that way. But, that couldn't be all there was to it, right? There were regulations here, but little else. They had standards, but nothing to fight for.

"Very good young man," his teacher said. FN-2187 nodded his thanks and returned to his seat. "You can all learn from FN-2187," his teacher said.

A school with no direction, was like a man with no name.

The bell rang, and the students filed out, one after the other in a perfect rhythmed march. First Order prep was one of those schools parents clamored to get there child into so that they can be set on the path to greatness from birth. First Order Elementary, to First Order Middle, until their final destination, here. FN-2187 had only gotten in because his foster other had known Vice Principal Hux.

Everything here was so…sterilized. Even on the football fields, where FN-2187 had practiced his tackles, the dirt seemed to lack any kind of substance. There was nothing to stick to his skin, to stain his shirts, to make him feel as though he were worthy of getting back up again. Every student at First Order High was required to be on a sports team, participate in an academic program, and take part in the school's ROTC program. It wasn't that FN-2187 had had an interest in the army…he just didn't have a choice. But football…football was something different entirely.

On the fields, and in the locker rooms, he felt as if he were a part of something grander than himself…but at the same time, he could feel the strange conformity of his institution suffocating him. Football players were the boys to watch, the thing Vice Principal Hux loved to show off the most. The Stormtroopers, the greatest team the city had ever known. Some of the alumni had even gone off to play in the NFL. They were the pride of First Order Prep. And they all knew it.

"Hey, 87!"

FN-2187 turned to see Slip approaching him through the crowed halls. Slip, like himself, was on the football team. Slip walked with all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates. He was clumsy, he never really looked where he was going, and when it came to football plays, he could never keep them straight. But…he was still FN-2187's closest friend in the whole team. It was Slip that had given him the name 87, at the very least, it was easier to call out commands when his name wasn't so long.

"Slip," 87 called back, "You headed for football practice?"

Slip nodded, "Yeah…I hear Kylo Ren's got a surprise for the whole team," Slip slung his book bag from one shoulder to the other, "A way to get the team amped up for our fight against Resistance High."

Resistance High, if First Order Prep had anything resembling a "rival" it would be that school. Resistance High wasn't exactly a top school, it had moderate academics, and a passable sports program, but there was something at that school that almost made Vice Principal Hux, nervous. Something he didn't like.

"What kind of surprise is it?" 87 asked. Kylo Ren, or Ben, was the captain of that team. Pretty much the golden boy for Principal Snoke. He had the top grades. The top attendance. The top sports records. The poster boy for First Order excellence, and yet, behind closed doors, he acted like every other teenager. Spoiled. Angry, and growing too fast to comprehend. While most leaders led by example, Kylo Ren ruled by fear and intimidation. Once, he had even used the entire football team to haze one of the freshmen who missed a pass during practice. He never stepped onto a football field again.

When it came to the football players, Kylo (and, he hated to be called Ben) was given free reign. Principal Snoke didn't seem to care what went on as long as the team kept winning.

The locker rooms were just like the classrooms, clean, pristine and without any kind of dirt to make it authentic. The lockers were white and smelled of lemon zest, even the sweat from the players backs seemed artificial, as if being human were a luxury they were not afforded.

Kylo Ren, dressed in his black jersey, with the number 0 painted on the back, stood at the front of the locker room. He, and he alone, was the only one allowed to step outside of the First Order's conformity. Being Principal Snoke's pet must have had its perks.

"Hello team," Kylo said. He walked through the horde, his hands behind his back like a general. "You are First Order Prep's finest," he said. It was strange, he spoke as if he were a general, a leader who did not know fear, but his voice always belayed a subtle fear that most people could not pick up…well, 87 could. And he always did, perhaps that was why Kylo always seemed to have it out for him. "Failure is never an option for us."

The same speech that 87 had heard since he was first drafted here. Failure is not an option. Weakness shall not be tolerated. Do it right, or the consequences will be dire.

"And so…" Kylo motioned for the players behind him to come forward. The infamous Knights of Ren, were the biggest gang in the school. When VP Hux, and Principal Snoke weren't around to enforce their laws, the Knights of Ren would do it for them. They kept the school in fear, and the sports teams in line. Nothing less than the best for First Order Prep. "…we have a guest with us today."

Two, large football players, Zeroes and Nines, stepped forward, carrying a bag that looked to be the size of-

"Wait," 87 said, "I-is that bag moving?"

Kylo Ren smiled, "Yeah it is." The boys dropped the bag onto the floor, and it hit the hard pavement with a thud. "Stormtroopers, I would like you all to meet someone very special." Kylo opened the leather bag, and pulled a young man out into the cold light. His hands tied behind his back, and his shirt covered in clay and mud. His hair was disheveled and matted to his forehead.

"K-Kylo," 87 said, his voice dropping to his stomach, "What the hell did you do?"

"This is Poe Dameron, Captain for the Resistance High football team." Kylo Ren grabbed a fist full of Poe's hair and grinned, "Say hello, boys."