So. Shall we begin?
Former Imperial Reprogramming Institute
Duro, Duro System
But it was all normal to JN-4. She was warm in her grey vest, black trousers and military boots. Her body had almost become one with the humid temperature and dirty breeze that blew. It was all normal.
Attacked by those known as “the Republic”, the institute had been decimated and left to burn, years of research and secrets either destroyed in the fire-fight and orbital airstrikes or taken away for analysis by “the men and women with guns”. The Stormtrooper legion who had helped JN-4 try and escape had all but fled to where ever they had to go.
In one hand she rubbed her two dog-tags together on her chest absentmindedly, and in the other she held a burnt Fefze, half-eaten, the rest crunching around inside her mouth. It was a sub-standard food, but it was something until her food rations later in her make-shift hovel in the burnt out crater of the institute landing pad. For now, she just watched.
It would be nice to have something to read, or to talk to someone, one of her fellow sisters, or even the creator, but they were gone. She was all that was left. She didn’t have the resolve to die, that wasn’t what her teaching had instilled in her to do, so until the day a transport took her away or she found a place on his world to live, JN-4 sat on her boulder, knees up to her chest, and looked out into the distance and waited until the sun above fizzled into the horizon for the day.
[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]