I do not own Naruto or Star Wars. Jacen Chrytos is my OC. Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Star Wars to Lucasarts.

"We're going to leave the kid here?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No, but..."

"'But' nothing. The locals won't miss him... hopefully."

"What about the other one?"

"He was speaking some local gibberish when we picked him up. Wouldn't shut up... gave one hell of a fight though."

'How the fuck did I end up here?' The young man thought. He sat up, taking note of his surroundings. The walls of the room he was in were entirely made of metal. He could smell things akin to the oils and fluids he was used to back home. His wrists were bound with simple manacles.

A door opened on the far side of the room. "So you're awake?" A large man with an even larger weapon said. The youth identified it as some sort of rifle, but not one he was familiar with. "Can you speak? Or do I need to encourage your tongue to loosen."

'If I speak, I'm dead. If I stay silent I'm dead.' The young man thought carefully. 'How the hell did I end up here anyway?'

"Hey, Jace! Watch your head!" Kate yelled as a soccer ball flew through the air towards her friend's head. She winced as it struck him in the head with audible force.

Jace stood up from his crouched position, rubbing his head. "Did another pebble fall off the building?" He looked up, then noticed the soccer ball next to his feet.

Two children, both boys, ran up towards the area where Jace and Kate were previously chatting. "Hey, can we have our..." They looked at Jace with palpable fear.

"Here's your ball. Try to not hit me again, okay? People might think you don't like me." Jace picked up the ball and tossed it to the nearest boy, who almost dropped it.

"Yo-you're not mad?" He stuttered, shaking visibly.

"Why would I be mad? I've been stabbed before. That was barely a tap in comparison." Jace laughed in embarassment. "Though I should have been able to block it." He saw the fear and confusion on the younger boys' faces and looked at them with open worry. "Am I bleeding? Did I grow a second head?"

"You're... you're Jace Chrytos..." One boy said.

"You're the most dangerous person in our town..." The other finished.

"Since when?" Jace asked, confused. "I didn't do anything to deserve my reputation. I just happened to be the fastest healer in our generation." He looked up as a glint in the sky caught his attention.

Jace Chrytos was a very lucky person. He was born with the bright blonde hair and deep blue eyes that signalled a fighter in the post-apocalyptic civiliztion that existed on Earth. He was 18 years old and just over 6 feet tall. He maintained a training regimen that toned his body to the point that he would rival an old linebacker from before the last war. The reputation he had gained was not completlely undue. Jace was the first person in his home town, located in what used to be the Midwest of the United States, capable of defending himself against the raiders in the plains. He had gone out the gather food for his midday meal and returned with both his gathered food and the bodies of two mutated raiders.

After this turn of fate, the leader of their town declared in secret that Jace was a dangerous person who should not be allowed to corrupt the other youth of the small village.

"I mean, really," Jace said jokingly. "All I do is kill a couple of raiders and turn the bodies over to the perimiter patrols and now I'm the village pariah because I can defend myself?" He laughed loudly. "The mayor has to sort out his priorities." He waved the kids off. "Go get back to your game." Jace's memory drifted back to the short time he had experienced in the military before the Russians had made a violent bid for world control only three months before. Fortunately, their had been a world-wide agreement to disarm and dispose of all nuclear weapons. Unfortunately, standard explosives and hig caliber rounds did just as much damage. The war had ended with no government intact, every man for himself.

The glimmer Jace had seen drew his attention again. He bid Kate farewell and set off in the direction of the last trajectory of the object. 'Great, now I'm following UFO's...'