To Make a Jedi
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Star Wars: the Clone Wars'; the rights to this show are owned only by the creators and/or licensed owners(duh) of this show. Thank you, please enjoy.
Prologue:
He didn't know how long he had been in this cell; it had been months, probably, but time was unimportant to him now. The fragile grasp that he had on reality continued to fade away before it returned again with diminished intensity. He was numb, and yet he knew he should be feeling pain at this very minute; what had they done to him? His entire body ached; it was a constant throbbing all over him, even within his very bones.
A man next to him leaned close, "are you ok, kid?" he asked.
The boy, perhaps 15 years of age, quietly stared at the floor with his knees huddled close to his chest.
He didn't respond, but the man continued to speak anyway, either out of unintended ignorance or willing annoyance.
"What did they do to you?" he asked, his eyes wide in wonder.
The boy, although still silent, slowly turned his head towards the man and looked into his eyes. There was no amount of sorrow in them, no amount of remorse or genuine care; there was only fear in the man's eyes….fear that he might be next.
The boy looked away, confirming to himself the selfishness of the man beside him; he didn't care – nobody did.
"I heard you were one of the ones who were chosen to be taken," the man went on, "you were gone for a few days. Hey, you know what's weird to me? Out of all of the people who were chosen, you were one of the few to return. Do you know what happened to the others?"
The man's words echoed in the boy's mind; he understood every word that was spoken. His thoughts were muddled and hazy, but even then he could slightly remember those who taken along with himself. He remembered bright lights, screams, blood, and pain. Oh, the pain was the most memorable.
Looking down at his hands that had been stained with dirt and sweat, staples of his time in this hellhole, the boy glared most intently at the series of numbers and letters that were imprinted on his skin.
[1B7746C] was all that was displayed on his right arm.
He studied the characters as he gently brushed his other hand over them, feeling the texture. It was a permanent brand that marked him as property, just as it was for everyone else in the room.
Raising his head up once more, the boy scanned the contents of the area, taking in all of the details that he had seen too many times before. Many people, probably reaching a total number of near 100, wandered around an open room. It was much too dark to do hardly anything, and the only source of light came in from small slits that lined the sides of the walls. Some people within the confines of this cell were healthy enough to walk, while the majority of the prisoners either remained seated or simply fell asleep.
The boy's attention quickly shifted upon hearing a mechanical buzzing that echoed throughout the cell; a small red light flashed overhead a large metallic door that was located at the front of the room. The buzzing soon ended when the door slide open, allowing white light to spill into the room, revealing three silhouettes. Two of them held weapons as they stood at either end of the door and scanned the interior of the cell; most of the prisoners watched on in fear, doing their best to avoid the men's gazes. The man in the middle was unarmed, which gave credence to the idea that he was the boss.
The man in the middle took the first step in, looking around the room with his head held up high as he made his way further into the prison. He wore a long coat-like garment that draped down to his knees, just before his leather boots began. A high-set collar rose above his shoulders and came up to his chin; on his head sat a black cap that was situated directly above his brow. The man's footsteps echoed as the soles of his hard-heeled boots hit the floor, quieting the rest of the room.
Soon, almost as if sensing it, the man stopped right in his tracks and looked at the boy who sat motionlessly near a corner. The man chuckled and approached the boy.
"Give me your hand," he commanded upon leaning down.
"No…" the boy said hesitantly with a cracked voice.
"No? Heh, you hear that, boys? He said 'NO'," the man shouted back to the other two individuals behind him, earning a few evil laughs.
Turning his attention back on the boy, the man got even closer to his face as he leaned in.
"Let's try this again. I said 'give me your hand'," he repeated, this time with more base in his voice.
The boy said nothing, and instead shot the man a look of pure contempt.
"Well, kid," he said with a sigh as he stood up, "I didn't really want to have to do this, but…you made me."
Using two fingers, the man motioned to the men behind him; nodding their heads in understanding, they took out a pair of clubs. Pressing a button on the sides of each weapon, the area was slightly lit up as the long ends of the clubs flickered with electrical impulses.
"Don't come any closer," the boy warned, although there was a hint of fear in his voice.
The guards ignored the boy's warning and instead continued to approach him, raising their clubs in preparation for a brutal beating. As the guards swiftly swung their weapons down at the boy, there was a sudden blur as the two men were thrown back to the other end of the room. Smashing into the wall, both men slumped to the ground unconscious.
"I told you not to come any closer," the boy said with outstretched hands.
The remaining man simply looked down at the boy, studying him as if he were some kind of product or object.
"It appears the experiments worked," the man said, snickering to himself, "well, what do you know? They were right."
"What? What are you talking about?" the boy gulped after realizing that the man didn't seem the least bit nervous.
Calmly walking over to the door, the man pressed a button that was situated on the wall and whispered into a microphone.
"One of the test subjects is getting a little too feisty," he said roughly, "I'll be needing some backup over here."
"N-no. Wait!" screamed the boy, but it was too late.
Within the next 30 seconds, the room was swarmed with dozens of new guards that filtered their way into the room; each of them was armed with either blasters or pistols as they aggressively pointed them at the boy.
"I'd give up if I were you," the man said as he strolled up to the boy once more, "Trust me, you're gonna want to comply; otherwise…this'll probably end really bad for you."
End of Prologue
Author's Note: Hey there, guys. So this story was based on a previous one that I wrote, but it didn't go very far. Now, with a different view on storytelling and writing in general, I wanted to take another crack at this. I'm not sure if I'll turn this into a full-fledged story or not, but if you guys want to see more of this - please comment (Even though I'll probably still update this story whenever I get a chance).