38 woke up to a strange smell. Tobacco?
"Boss, how're you holding up?"
Scorch!
38 got up, slowly, painfully. He took in his surroundings. He was on a ship. Moving.
"I'm doing just fine, trooper." he said sarcastically.
"Good to hear. RC-1138, the Empire would like to extend a job offer to you. An offer you cannot refuse." Scorch said.
"Why not?" 38 asked.
"Boss, we were created to be loyal to Palpatine. Plus, there's that murder charge. You refuse, and your life is forfeit."
"So what?"
"Boss, the Empire wants to give us our old jobs back. They need help crushing the rebellion."
"What is that smell?" 38 asked.
"A very old cigar. I've found it helps with the cellular degeneration. I know you've been feeling those pains, Boss."
"It just means I'm about to die, Scorch."
"Which way would you rather die, Boss? On your knees or in battle?"
Scorch handed 38 a blaster. His old Blas-Tech DC17m. It still had a bit of trandoshan blood on the muzzle.
"We found your helmet in your house. This isn't the life you were meant to lead, Boss. You were meant to lead men."
"Who will I be leading?" 38 asked.
"Me and Fixer. It'll be just like old times, the Empire is even going to issue us our old armor."
"Where are we going?"
"Hoth. Lord Vader has a person of importance he wants us to nab. Luke Skywalker."
"Skywalker? Any relation to Anakin?"
"Probably. Anyways, seems Luke is a big symbol of the rebellion, he's the kid that blew up the first Death Star."
"First?"
"We're building another."