Private Thanks for Surviving—You're Under Arrest

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska //:
//: ISD Lady of Fortune, Detention Center //:
//: Attire //:

​

Sterile white glows emitted from the lights in the open-area. There was no privacy. Rows of detention cells stretched out in both directions with white spray painted floor marking zones. Majority of the detainees had their helmets off, sitting slouched or pacing around. Others muttered to themselves or formed tiny pockets talking. Time was non-existent, there was no indication of telling how long one has been in there. There were no guards stationed inside. Only coming to throw troublesome Troopers in or take them out.

Arms crossed, sitting by herself in the furthest part of the room with her helmet on. CT-312 posture was calm, there was no tension at all. It was her first time being detained by the Empire. It wasn't anything new. Before she was picked up, there were too many times to keep track of being sent to detention, isolation, the brig, or whatever one would call it. Other detainees knew better to bother her and if they didn't, they'd learn. CT-312 could feel the stares and hear the whispers, knowing full well it was her camouflage gear and height. Annoyed, she just kept to herself.

Recalling the main event that triggered her being sent to the detention center. Launching an unauthorized drop pod during their extraction on Woostri. CT-1013’s send off. The Scout Trooper remembered vividly the details of that mission. How the cowardly Shock Trooper rose to the occasion and did their duty at the end. Becoming a true Trooper after all.

The door of the detention center opened. Escorted by two guards was MB-1782. He spotted the camouflage Trooper right away and made his way to the back. Saluting before sitting down silently. CT-312 nodded back and returned the salute. Before sitting, the Shield Trooper took off his helmet and set it on the table in front of him. Both sat and observed the rest of the area. Her body ached from her remaining injuries from Woostri and Rugosa. Maybe being sent here wasn’t a bad decision. The rest was well needed.

 

[Jacen Breska]

I S O L A T I O N​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Old Armor.
EQUIPMENT: NOTHING
LOCATION: ::ISD LADY OF FORTUNE :: DETENTION CENTER::
TAG: CT-312

This wasn’t how missions were supposed to end. Being cuffed, interrogated for ‘misuse of military equipment’, and led to the brig? There were supposed to be awards, pats on the back from Officers who never set foot on a piece of hostile rock once in their lives.
Not confinement. It wasn’t right.
But Jacen said nothing as he was led down the cold steel corridors of the ship with his hands bound, flanked by two troopers armed with stunbatons and blaster rifles. He was a bit surprised they let him keep his armor, but he figured they wouldn’t be able to get out of the brig anyway, and they were thorough in their search, making sure he wasn’t hiding any weapons, and any tech his armor hid was neutralized.

They approached the security station that led to the Brig, and the troopers ordered him to halt. A scan confirmed his armor’s systems were disabled and he wasn’t hiding any weapons.

Why the need for the search, then, he thought to himself, as the scan came up clear and they removed his cuffs before the door slid open. A hard shove sent him stumbling forward into the space, and a few of the other troopers in the DC looked to observe the new arrival.

“‘Nother one of those rejects from Woostri,” he heard one of them say, “What is that now, three? ‘Bout all that made it back from that mission,” another added, and they both laughed.

Jacen tried to ignore them, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something stupid. He spotted 312 and 1782 off in the distance, sitting together at a table and the thought to go join them crossed his mind. But he decided against it, finding another empty table instead. He sat down and removed his helmet, flipping it around and staring into the visor.
Funny, he found himself thinking, a month ago this may as well have been factory new.
The helmet now bore chips, scratches, scorch marks from where blaster bolts came just a little too close for comfort. Jacen observed every little mark, every ding, every blemish. And Woostri came back to him.
It started slow, a feeling in his chest. An emptiness. One he tried to feel with air. Deeper and deeper breaths, quicker each time and his hands began to shake. He dropped the helmet on the table with a thud, barely audible over the sounds of conversation and commotion in the room, and put his head in his hands.

That wasn’t what it was supposed to be, he thought, That wasn’t who /I/ was supposed to be.
He thought back to his schooling. His childhood, how simple life had seemed to be, how easy. He grew up rich on Bespin, his family owned their own Tibana station. He was practically royalty. Stellar grades, amazing prospects…
Too proud for his own good.
Men died.
The academy, his instructors loved him. Mostly. His attitude was shit. His ego was unchecked. He was the best and they all knew it. Other people could hide their ambitions, or take pride in a job well done. Jacen did not take pride in a job well done. A Job well done was to be expected. Pride for Jacen meant being the best and making sure everyone knew.
Men died.
It was an attitude the Academy could not tolerate. Not forever. There may have once been a hope that Jacen would straighten up. It never came. Every success with no consequence? No sacrifice? It only made him worse.
Men died.
So, they kicked him out. Worse, they assigned him to the Trooper Legions. A backwater planet on the border with a Defense Force. A career ender. When insurgents attacked the garrison and destroyed it, who should survive but Jacen? Who should be that lucky but Jacen? He remembered thinking how foolish his CO was. How he’d have done better, kept his men alive.
Men died.
Then…Woostri. And how quickly things changed. Lives were wasted. Drop pods killed troopers before they even had a chance to fight for their Empire, ambushes, orbital bombardments, rock creatures got some of the rest. That’s war. But Jacen?
Perfect Jacen? Genius Jacen? He made calls. He made plans. And men died.

He didn’t have time to think about it before, but for one moment where he made a mistake and almost killed 312. How many men died because of him? His plan? Seven? Eight? Lives spent, not wasted, he kept repeating to himself. It was easy to believe at the time, worrying about making it home, keeping as many alive as he could. But now?

Now he had time to think about it. And he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

“Well well,” a voice said behind him. He didn’t care, didn’t turn to look as it continued, “One of the Woostri crew, huh? Yeah we heard about that,” the voice continued, “Great,” Jacen responded, his hands gripping his hair, “go hear about it elsewhere.”
“Oooh, someone's testy," he teased, "Well, I would. I’d love to let you sulk, remembering all the bodies you lot left down there,” Jacen's grip tightened, “but you’re actually sitting at my table.” the voice said, slapping Jacen’s shoulder as he sat down next to him. Jacen lifted his head to see two others, all three with their helmets off, with one sitting on his other side and the last sitting across from him. All three had the same chit-eating grin on their faces. “Why don’t you go sit with your friends over there huh? The other rejects,” the trooper pointed towards 312 and 1782 before continuing, “can’t have much friends left, huh? Gotta stick together, don’tcha?”
Jacen exhaled, covering his mouth with his hand as the other gripped the bottom rim of his helmet. He shook his head, dropping his left hand down to the table in a balled up fist, “Alright, I’ll go.” He said, trying to rise to his feet. A hand on his shoulder forced him back down, “No no no, not yet, we’re talking about how your karked up mission kill-” A wide backfist from Jacen’s left stopped the trooper’s words dead, sending him backwards off the bench. Immediately, Jacen gripped the rim of his helmet tight and swung right, hitting the other trooper in the head and sending him back as well. No thoughts, just actions. Impulse. Rage. Jacen raised his eyes, wild and pissed, and met the other trooper across the table.
“What the hell?!” the trooper exclaimed, taken by surprise, before he rose and dove over the table, taking Jacen down to the ground as the other troopers regained their senses and starting beating down on Jacen.

​

 

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska //:
//: ISD Lady of Fortune, Detention Center //:
//: Attire //:

​

Eyes closed, resting. CT-312 only to open an eyelid when the entry door opened with a loud hiss. Curious to see who was coming in. The two guards ushered TK-710 inside, having a laugh while they left. Observing TK-710’s movements, he settled sitting by himself. Closing both her eyes, going back to her moment of peace.

“Well well,” a voice said behind him. He didn’t care, didn’t turn to look as it continued, “One of the Woostri crew, huh? Yeah we heard about that,”

Heavy sigh. So much for peace. Both eyes open, looking towards the source of the voices. It became very quiet in the room. All eyes were on the three detainees jabbing at TK-710. Annoyed that her moment of silence was disturbed.

“Why don’t you go sit with your friends over there huh? The other rejects,” the trooper pointed towards 312 and 1782 before continuing, “can’t have much friends left, huh? Gotta stick together, don’tcha?”

MB-1782 made a motion to stand. Lifting her hand, palm out, signaling him to wait. Instead, securing his helmet on. ‘Annoying. It’s always the loud ones.’ CT-312 was curious to see how TK-710 would handle himself.

“No no no, not yet, we’re talking about how your karked up mission kill-” A wide backfist from Jacen’s left stopped the trooper’s words dead, sending him backwards off the bench.

Chuckling. So he did have some fight in him. Watching as the fed up Trooper took on the pestering detainees. It was only when it became an extremely out matched fight when CT-312 signaled MB-1782. Sometimes peace needed a strong hand.

Standing straight up, the massive Shield Trooper made his way over as CT-312 followed. Surprisingly the guards hadn't shown up. It was as if they were waiting to see how this would end. The crowd parted as both neared. Catching the fist of the ring leader. He turned his head to see who was dumb enough to interfere.

“Woostri Rejects eh?”, CT-312 asked calmly. The detainee who started all the yapping tried to swing his other fist. Displeased, the Scout Trooper immediately manipulated the grabbed hand in an awkward painful angle. It felt as if it was about to break. Falling to his knees screaming in pain, "AHHHHHH" stopping half way.

The other two detainees took their attention off TK-710, Looking at their screaming friend. MB-1782 easily picked one up by the collar with a hand and threw him aside. As he landed with a hard thud, groaning. A punch came at the Shield Trooper, connecting. "Arggghh" the third detainee took a couple of steps back, clutching his hand in pain. Unfazed, MB-1782 grabbed him by the throat. Grip tightening. Choking could be heard as the towering Trooper slowly lifted the now kicking detainee up in the air. He was gripping onto the arm that was holding him up, barely being on his tippy toes.

Attention focused straight to the detainee kneeling in front of her. “But you have heard of us.” gripping and twisting his hand even harder, “AGGGHHHH”. His body started to crumple further into the ground. “The real question is– Who are you?”

Caught in CT-312’s peripherals a fist came at her from the detainee that was thrown aside. Stepping back , pulling the hand she had been gripping into her. Moving the body of the person, the fist connected with the ring leader’s face. Letting go, he landed face first into the floor. MB-1782 reached out, grabbing the one who threw the punch at the throat as well. Now holding up two meddlesome troopers who were choking and gripping on to for their lives. Turning her attention back to the leader on the ground groaning. CT-312 grabbed him by the hair, pulling him up. Wrapping her other arm around his neck, starting to slowly tighten. “Ah, don’t tell me you’re one of those.” depriving him of oxygen.

Hands reached out to the small Scout Trooper's arm, trying to claw their way out. Her injuries throbbing, only aggravated her even more. The usual reserved CT-312 spoke loudly this time. For all the detainees and anyone else in the room to hear. “Too scared to go out, so you cause trouble to get thrown in here.” Dragging him by the head so everyone could see. “If you’re in here, you can’t go out there.”, feet kicking as his body squirmed.

“Have you wondered why none of the other Troopers in here haven’t opened their mouths to us?”

Soon a couple of the guards came rushing in with stun batons. Stopping in their tracks as they saw it was a hostage situation. All eyes were on them. CT-312 was beyond irritated. Clearly the Empire’s Troopers were lacking. The cowardice of these detainees. Rejects. Just like her. But at least she knew of her resourcefulness. They weren’t even going on missions to do their duty.

“It does make me wonder if we were sent in here to clean up. I’ve seen plants contribute more to society — and they don’t even move.”

“H-help”, reaching his hand out. Trying to grasp at the guards. "P-p-please" Eyes begging at the other detainees in the room.

Moving her helmet's visor, scanning the room. CT-312 made sure that all the detainees knew she was looking at them. In a firm cold calculated tone, “I want you all to remember. We’re not in here with you." eyes landing on the the guards. "You're in here with us."

With a forceful sharp jerk of her arms and hands, a sickening crack was heard throughout the room. Hands that gripped her arm fell to the ground as the body slumped lifeless with a thud as CT-312’s grip released. MB-1782 soon followed, throwing one of the bodies of the detainees at the guards. Lifting the remaining one higher into the air. With one motion, slamming him down into the ground. Head connecting full force into the metal floor.

CRACK . His eyes rolled to the back of his head, limbs slightly twitching before all movement ceased.

The guards pushed the thrown detainee off. Charging at the two. One connecting their stun baton to MB-1782. He just grunted, stopping only for a moment before reaching out, ripping the baton out of the guard's hand. Kicking him straight into the chest, sending the guard flying backwards. CT-312 dodged an incoming baton, tackling one of the guards. Only to be met with a hit on her back. Her injuries screamed at her. “Argh”, gritting her teeth in fury, turning around lunging at the guard that hit her. Throwing unrelenting punches at the head until the guard stopped moving. The Shield Trooper swung the baton, knocking another. More guards swarmed in rushing.

“That is quite enough.” A familiar voice from the overhead speakers cut through the brawl. All movement in the room halted. All the guards took a step back and lowered their batons. “We can’t be incapacitating our fine candidates now can we.” Suddenly two detention cells opened up remotely across the room. “TK-710, MB-1782, CT-312. Oh and don’t forget that other trouble maker.” Two of the guards grabbed the detainee that was part of the trouble, dragging him to the left detention cell. The three Woostri Troopers willingly made their way across the room without any guards escorting them. CT-312 tapped on MB-1782’s shoulder before going into the right cell. Dropping the stun baton, the Shield Trooper pivoted and went into the left cell. The blood drained from the detainee's face that was thrown in there. The doors closed as soon as TK-710 and CT-312 entered. How long would they be in there? She didn’t care. At least there will finally be some peace and quiet.

 

[Jacen Breska]

OBJ3: MIRROR'S EDGE​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Old Armor.
EQUIPMENT: NOTHING
LOCATION: ::ISD LADY OF FORTUNE :: DETENTION CENTER::
TAG: CT-312

He got a few good hits in, even when all three of them held him down and started jumping him. Jacen didn’t immediately notice one of the attackers be pulled away, he only noticed the opportunity to sneak in another quick hit on his two remaining attackers before they were similarly whisked away. Rising quickly back to his feet and grabbing his helmet, something that proved to be quite the blunt weapon, and running towards the last trouble maker as he was thrown into the guards. Almost immediately, Jacen was hit with a stunbaton, sending him writhing down to the ground as arcs of electricity pulsated from the point of contact.

“That is quite enough.” A familiar voice from the overhead speakers cut through the brawl. All movement in the room halted. All the guards took a step back and lowered their batons. “We can’t be incapacitating our fine candidates now can we.” Suddenly two detention cells opened up remotely across the room. “TK-710, MB-1782, CT-312. Oh and don’t forget that other trouble maker.”

Jacen could barely register what was being said as the guard standing above him dragged him to his feet and walked him to the cell with CT-312 in it before throwing him down on the ground, still trying to regain the air in his chest from the shock of the baton.

After spending some time recuperating, Jacen finally raised his head and observed his surroundings. CT-312 was already there, familiarizing themselves with their surroundings as well. Once he was satisfied, Jacen scooted backwards towards an opposite wall, thankful for the quiet. He touched his face and winced, feeling the lumps and bruises as they began to form.

He looked at 312 and gestured out with his hand after soothing a bruise, “Thanks for uh. For the help, 312,” he said, “Probably wouldn’t ah…have gone so smoothly without you. So…thanks.”
Not this, nor Woostri before, he thought to himself, blinking and looking at the floor. He just gave them a courteous nod.
​

 

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska //:
//: ISD Lady of Fortune, Detention Center //:
//: Attire //:

THUD

Looking back, CT-312 saw TK-710 was on the floor after being tossed in. Raising a brow. Silently watching as he stayed in that position for a moment. Shaking her head, the Scout went back to looking around the detention cell. It was empty. Only minimal padded walls and bright white lights that illuminated the room. She wouldn’t be surprised if those outside probably think both Troopers would tear each other apart in a small confined room.

CT-312 made her way to the back left corner of the cell. Pressing her back to the wall, sliding down as she settled sitting. Kicking her right leg out while bringing the other knee to the chest, her right arm resting on top. The back of her helmet propped up against the wall. Inhaling slowly yet deeply, her ribs felt as if they were about to rip from the expanding lungs. Torso dully throbbing. The Scout’s mind started to drift to the moment she was picked up by the Sith Empire. It was just non-stop high risk missions with minimal rest in between. Never thought she’d be glad to be thrown into confinement.

The Trooper looked back at TK-710. Finally picking himself up and making his way to the opposite wall. Briefly inspecting his state, his face will definitely have some bruising. Other than that, he’ll be fine.

“Thanks for uh. For the help, 312,” he said, “Probably wouldn’t ah…have gone so smoothly without you. So…thanks.”

Nodding back at TK-710 in acknowledgement. It was still not natural for CT-312 to hear words of thanks. Thinking about why she decided to intervene. As well as MB-1782, despite them not being in an official assigned squad or knowing each other. To her, it would make sense to have some sense of comradery after surviving the Woostri ordeal, despite how miniscule it may be.

“Make yourself comfortable. We’ll be in here for a while.”

 

[Jacen Breska]

OBJ3: MIRROR'S EDGE​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Old Armor.
EQUIPMENT: NOTHING
LOCATION: ::ISD LADY OF FORTUNE :: DETENTION CENTER::
TAG: CT-312

“How much more comfortable can I make myself?” Jacen asked, looking around at the bare white room. A growing pain in his head, a throbbing that simulated the worst migraine he could ever imagine, caused him to reach a hand up and use his thumb and his ring finger to rub his temples, trying to soothe the pain away. He wondered as to the trooper's history. Something in the way they said that, to make himself comfortable, implied they had been here before. And often.
“Are there some hidden pillows in a compartment somewhere?" He asked in jest, "or do we just have these padded walls?” He continued, lowering his hand and staring at the helmeted trooper in the corner. His face was quickly swelling, and blood from a gash above his left eye dripped down his cheek, a sanguine tear. “Why did you help me? Why not let them do it?” He asked, his one open eye squinting slightly. “It’d have been better,” he muttered quietly as he pulled his gaze away from them, looking down at the ground in front of him. His head began to throb more, and with an irritated grunt he reached a hand up and put pressure on his forehead. “What do we owe each other, huh? Why save me, what’d I do for you? What’d I do for anyone?” He asked, pulling his hand away, shooting a glare over at 312 before he continued, “What, brotherhood?” He chuckled, looking away, “First mission…” he finished, quietly, clicking his tongue and tasted blood. “First real mission that wasn’t a damned ambush in the forest. All my squad ma…” he stopped, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes tightly and laid his head back against the padded wall. “Then not…” he stopped, thinking, “What...seventy two hours later? Woostri.” He stopped again, then looked at 312, “Why’d you look at me for a plan? Why’d you get those idiots to look at me like some kind of leader? Y’know after you…" he paused again, thinking about how he screwed up, how he didn't confirm the kill on that thing, almost got 312 killed. Was that his fault too? "I lost three more. Three. Why is that my fault? What made you look at me and think I could make those calls?” His adrenaline began to spike, a feeling in his chest, a righteous fury, began to grow. Pain kept him sitting on the ground, and as he spoke and let loose all this frustration, his headache grew in pain.
Lives spent, not wasted. The line repeated in his head. But who made those calls now? Who could make that justification? It was fine in the moment, dodging blaster fire. Easier to convince himself what he was doing was for the good of the mission. But now? As he sat, nursing his wounds in the relative safety of this iso cell, he couldn't help but think back. Now he was analyzing every decision he had made, every order he had given. And now? Now he was with someone who he could blame. Someone he could convince himself was responsible, someone, anyone, that wasn't him.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said, gritting his teeth, “It was yours. You killed those men. Not me. You put me in that-...You.” He stopped, covering his head with his hand, “It was you…” he muttered softly, unsure if he was still talking to 312 or himself.

​

 

[CT-312]

//: Jacen Breska //:
//: ISD Lady of Fortune, Detention Center //:
//: Attire //:

CT-312 could tell by looking that TK-710 wasn’t used to being sent to a Detention Center, let alone an isolated cell. Gazing lazily at the door, it shifted to TK-710 as he started to throw out questions.

“Why did you help me? Why not let them do it?”

Indeed. Why did CT-312 decide to help TK-710? She began to tap her pointer finger that was resting on her knee. The other Troopers tone would be fluctuating. Asking questions outloud but soon muttering to himself. Talking to himself, slowly spiralling. Questioning why she chose to ‘save’ TK-710.

‘Interesting’, he made mention of his first mission. CT-312 remembered their time when they were both pulled into a room being interrogated. The last mission that TK-710 was a part of before ending up here. As he continued talking, recalling the events from his mission to Woostri. ‘Ah. There it is.’, the guilt. The men that died under his call for the bunker push. ‘A shiny’, remembering how his armor was scuffed like hers during their first meeting. The truth came out. A new untested soldier whose armor hasn’t been scuffed or worn in actual combat. His tone soon shifted, hearing the frustration and anger as TK-170 shifted the blame to CT-312.

The Scout Trooper said nothing. Simply staring back through the visor. The silence in the room spoke volumes for the Camo Trooper. Disappointed by the blame-shifting, understanding of his emotional state, but unwilling to absolve him for the outburst. Sighing, CT-312’s voice was calm but edged. There was no venom, only clarity.

“If it was my fault… then why are you still asking yourself all those questions? You think I don’t see them everytime I close my eyes?”

CT-1013, the cowardly Shock Trooper flashed in CT-312’s mind.

“You don’t strike me as the brain dead Trooper. Sooner or later we all need to take responsibility.” Her gaze looking back at the door, letting out a deep sigh. “It goes without saying, our situation has us placed here and on these types of missions. For survival and the success of the mission, it was better to do it now than later”. Slowly turning her head back to TK-710. Her tone dropped.

“Unless I was wrong about you.”, CT-312 observed his reaction. “I’m sure the higher ups in here saw it too. You’re not stupid. Sooner or later the call would have been made. You would be put on the spot and who knows… maybe it would’ve been more lives lost due to lack of experience.” Pressing her helmet back into the wall looking up at the fluorescent ceiling.

“What does being a Trooper mean to you, TK-710? Everyone who's a Trooper knows how it ends. Tell me, what kind of Trooper do you want be when your time is up?” The Scout Trooper let out a “Ha.” just loud enough for TK-710 to hear. “If it helps you sleep at night, sure—blame me. It makes no difference for me.”

CT-312 was already used to taking on the weight of the blame of everything. One more wouldn’t make a difference.

“Four was good. You strategized and planned to minimize the loss while achieving the objective”, she paused. Recalling all the events of Woostri. "The light infused golem on the other hand.", Remembering how she was at deaths door. "Always confirm your mark is dead."

 

[Jacen Breska]

IMPERIAL PRISON BLUES​

WEARING:: Jacen’s Old Armor.
EQUIPMENT: NOTHING
LOCATION: ::ISD LADY OF FORTUNE :: DETENTION CENTER::
TAG: CT-312

Jacen lifted his head, pulling his hand away and met 312’s gaze. “How do you just say that?" He asked, blood still dripping down his face, "How does anyone? Like lives lost is just math?” It was easier in the moment. But to still have that mindset now? Maybe that was why some troopers just constantly volunteered for mission after mission. It was the best way to ensure the guilt stayed buried. But in moments like now? How did you keep those thoughts and still maintained your humanity? "If you still see them in your mind," Jacen snapped, "how are you just to callous about it?!"

He was desperate for any interaction that kept him from thinking about his actions. The fight before was a relief. A nice distraction, Jacen thought. What better way to ensure he never thought about the choices he’d made then by beating the bricks off of anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way? If it didn’t guarantee time alone with his thoughts in an Iso cell he was sure it’d be his new favorite coping mechanism. But fights end, so here and now in this cell with nothing but 312 and the ghosts as company? The juice was not worth the squeeze.
"It's hard to...justify the loss. How does someone. And...again, it was more then four. You want to get technical, I'm responsible for seven deaths total. Seven." He paused and pursed his lips together in thought, "Did they have to die? Was there a better way? How does anyone not drive themselves mad thinking about that? You seemed to know what you were doing, you seem to have a handle on it, but you chose me to make those calls." He paused and considered 312's words. "And so...you think those men dying then, making me do that now, is better because maybe I'll be better for it in the future?" He gestured with a hand, "Experience, huh? This isn't something I want more experience in. Losing people. Being responsible..." He paused again, sighing deeply as he stared at a very small pool of blood dripping from his head onto the ground. It didn't matter when it happened. It didn't matter who made that call to put Jacen on that spot.
They were responsible, not him. He wasn't ready. He wasn't trained to lead, hell, this was his second mission!

“I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be one of the troopers." He sighed, recalling his life, the chances he had, all of the opportunities. "Originally I was supposed to be an officer. Commanding somewhere..." Jacen shook his head, closing his eyes, “I’m supposed to be better. I was raised better than this." He shook his head, remembering how he had cost himself a life of greatness. Of purpose. "I should be sending people to war from the nice comfort of a desk somewhere, not sending people to their deaths mere feet away.”
Jacen kept his eyes locked on 312's faceplate, "This wasn't the life I had envisioned for myself."
Jacen Breska. Heir to a fortune, a rich boy from Bespin.
“My family owns millions in Tibana gas,” he said, finally, after a moment of silence. “Did you know that? No, how could you?” He sighed, looking up at the light fixtures above them. “I grew up in luxury. Everyone always did what I told them too as a child. Even adults. They made their kids be friends with me.” He shook his head, sneering at the thought, “How pathetic is that? ‘That’s the bosses’ kid’, they’d say, ‘gotta be nice to him.’” He leaned over and spat blood on the ground, growling angrily.
“I never struggled as a kid. Never. Best education money could buy. Best…everything.” Jacen sighed. “I was meant for more than this. Hell, more than military service at all. Mother and Father didn’t want me to join the Academy.” Jacen’s eyes glazed over, lost in his memories as he spoke. At a point, becoming unaware someone else was even in the room. “It’s a waste of your talents, they had said. It’s a waste of our time investment into you.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I think the last thing they said to me before I left was…you’re no son of ours.” He looked over at 312 and squinted. “Imagine that, for a second,” he exhaled slowly, "Imagine having everything you could ever hope to. All your needs catered too. Being told you were destined for greatness...maybe believing it more than you should have. Being told you had a higher purpose, and chasing it for yourself when you thought you'd found it. Then imagine it's taken from you. Imagine you're now this...disposable thing. An afterthought. A 'number.'" He stopped, and turned over, "Well, I guess you don't have to imagine that last part too hard." He paused one final time and looked back at 312, "I’m sure your life was shit from the jump, Clone.” He spat, a pit in his chest growing as soon as the word had left his mouth.


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