(ON HIATUS) Execute Order Sixty-Soup: A Crack Fanfiction!

Chapter Three: Nightmare Fuel

And I bequeath to you, Dear Reader... an entire chapter that is a fever dream because why not? 😏

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The hospital bed and beeping of vitals vanished as an incomprehensible force took Crosshair flying through his subconscious. He screamed for a short spell as he was thrown through hyperspace, blue stripes that were once stars and wind swirling all around him, then... 

Clouds. He was delicately floating in a blue sky surrounded by radiant white clouds. A golden glow pierced through them so brightly, yet the light wasn't strong enough to ignite his retinas. He was light as a feather as he involuntarily drifted on top of a cloud, and his feet touched its surface. Apprehensive and freaked out, he struggled to stand upright on the clouds that felt like water. Taking a few steps and slipping a curse word the one time he slipped, he was able to find his balance when he put his hands out. 

This reminded him of the time when his life flashed before his eyes on Anaxes on that stupid tightrope of a walkway his squad and Skywalker tried to escape from. He peered down from his cloud perch to see how far down it went, but there was no telling with a mysterious fog covering where the ground would be. He glanced up from below and stared into what he thought was a sun. Its rays were unnervingly attempting to welcome him.

He didn't know his subconscious had the capacity for such a beautiful environment. All of the good dreams were of him slurping soup in the dingy mess hall. Because it was so foreign to be walking on clouds, it didn't feel tranquil, but eerie.

It gave him the same feeling he had when Separatist droids were spying on him. He did a 360 scope of the atmosphere, but there was no one there. Still, it felt like there was.

"HEY THERE!" exclaimed a gruff but cheerful clone voice.

The sniper's eyes darted as fast as they could, but he only saw the source of the voice when he looked up. Above his head was a reg in shining white armor, glowing in the golden light like an angel's linen robes. He wore no helmet, and he had that ugly-looking trademark buzzcut.

Out of being startled, Crosshair attempted to jump up and punch the guy. He missed the first time, but the second he fired his knuckles through... nothing. His arm went what felt like cold mist instead of a body. 

What the...?

The clone flailed his arms like an infant that couldn't swim and cried out! "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! DON'T KILL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" But then he abruptly stopped the panic when he realized Crosshair's fists had no effect. "Oh yeah, I guess I forgot," he said with a shrug. "I don't have a real body. So don't touch me!"

This reg had a lot of attitude, and he reminded Crosshair of Broth all too much. "Where are we?" he asked, ensuring an impolite tone to assert his dominance. 

"This is all a dream, silly! I'm a part of the deepest and darkest depths of your mind! I float around in clouds all day and have no known purpose to support the story!" 

Crosshair arched an eyebrow. "What story?"

The clone's eyes widened and he stammered nervously to prevent fourth-wall boundaries from being breached. "Oh, uh... n-never mind that! The... um... metaphorical story, uh... of your life!" He let out an awkward giggle. 

"Right..."

As the mystery clone resumed blabbering, he levitated off the ground and started soaring around the clouds, smiling all the while. "This entire world is merely improvisational and manifestations of your subconscious. Everything that I say is technically something that you say. So, we're best friends!"