𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐒 ─
❝ 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦?❞
The possibilities of what could have been on another world in another lifetime. Where the balance of power shifts so that a child is delivere...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
004. THE SCAVENGER AND THE GENERAL
∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘
THE EX-GENERAL'S EYES FLASHED OPEN AND HE GASPED FOR BREATH AS HE FLOUNDERED IN THE SAND WHILE CLUTCHING HIS CHEST. Only once the beating of his heart had returned to a normal rhythm did he start to pay attention to his surroundings. The dunes of sand went on for every direction he looked, like some beige eternal hellscape. The only change of color was the pillar of black smoke originating from somewhere beyond the closest dune.
"Miss Dangir..." he whispered, his face going pale. He scrambled to his feet, sprinting over the large dune—losing his footing more than once. More and more debris from the crashed TIE fighter appeared the closer he got to the source. His panic only grew stronger when the vessel was in range: smoking and on fire. "Dangir!"
He found what he believed to be her arm, hanging from the shattered viewport. He reached out, giving the leather sleeve a firm tug, yet that's all it was. He fell back onto the ground, holding only her leather jacket as a reminder of the rebel he'd escaped with. He grew more frantic, rising back to his feet before searching for a way through the heat and smoke.
"Koria!" he called out, yet there was no reply to his desperate cry. The ground beneath his feet shifted and the TIE began to sink beneath the sand waves. The quicksand of the sinking fields devours everything, forcing Hux to realize that if he didn't move it would consume him too. He scampered and stumbled back, still calling out to the pilot as if there was still some hope she had survived. "Koria!"
Seconds passed and the ship was gone. Hux's breath was heavy as his chest heaved. He'd just lost the one person who might actually help him survive, and she'd stranded him on a dustball that the First Order had already infiltrated. He was snapped out of his self-pity as an explosion erupted from below, shooting sand and the remaining debris everywhere.
He jumped back, clutching his chest as if one more surprise might give him a heart attack. He was disoriented with no direction of where to go to seek civilization. He was exhausted from his little escapade that had severely lacked the substance of a real plan. He was terrified as his paranoia had spiked to an all time high, believing that hidden behind each dune was a First Order trooper just waiting for him. And above all else he was utterly alone with no allies to trust, nor anyone as desperate enough as himself to offer help.
With no hope of survival remaining put, he spun in a circle with a finger extended and stopped when his intuition called out to him. Now his intuition had never been astounding when it came to direction, but it was all he had left in the galaxy aside from the course linen on his back.
And as the sun beat down from above, perhaps that was even too much. The First Order uniforms were meant to appear neat and orderly. They were military issued, but hardly meant for fighting as few leaders had actually experienced combat. They were strategists who had earned their place either as a birthright or proving they had the wit to lead armies. Now covered in sweat and sand, the cloth itched against the back of his neck and only weighed him down as he trudged through the dunes seeking civilization.
