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They grabbed him off of Bracca only a year after he crash landed on that sithspit planet. The taste of mud and grime in his mouth, the blood on his hands and the hole in his heart had fueled him to survive, waiting. Waiting for the council, other Jedi to help him, like his master had told him they would. He had thumbed his lightsaber for what now seems like the last time, holding it to his forehead as he prayed to whomever was out there to come and save him, to bring him home.
Mud and grime could only fuel so much and he had been struggling to survive on his own for the first time since the wars, it had been tough, really tough. He’d never been alone for any longer than a few days, only once had he truly been alone, the third week of his padawan learning when his ship had crashed, the clones- his friends had died on impact. He had been alone for what seemed to be a few days before Commander Steel had found him, saved him-- Damned him .
A few of the kinder souls had helped him get settled at first, being found by Prauf was one of the best things to happen to him, ‘family left me behind’ he had said Prauf. The Abednedo had shaken his head before going into how he was a good kid, how they messed up. An odd reaction he had thought at the time, not anyone had felt sorry for him since the empire came onto the planet, It wasn’t a shock when the Empire had rounded everyone up again for a routine contraband inspection.
A ship landed close by; it looked like it could fit maybe thirty people into its cargo bay from the outside. Two people had stepped out of it. Not imperial workers, not an imperial ship , they stood tall, stood on the stand in front before people started being pulled out of the crowd. Him being one of them, he looked towards one of the others who were corralled away from the crowd. He didn’t know them that well, being paired up with one of them once for a squeeze job, not uncommon. Better than the scrap rat jobs.
A few more people came off of the ship, their armour was blue and gray, they raised their guns up to the crowd, the imperials joining them before they shot as many people as they could. Quickly, they had started pushing them towards the ship, aiming their guns towards them. Prauf! He so wished to scream out as he watched his friend fall to the floor.
He struggled of course he struggled, he had no clue who they were. Why they were trying to grab them, why they were shooting in the crowds, why the Empire helped gun their own workers down.
He- he used the force, he panicked and suddenly his entire body was burning from the disuse. Force it buRNS , his body screaming in pain- or was that him? The constant squeezing the power down had let out a giant wave as he pushed two of them away, and suddenly there was a pain in his side, probably from some sort of blaster that caused him to collapse. He watched as the scrap yards of Bracca turned into a forest. Beautiful , is this how he dies? Staring at an imaginary forest, if it is then he’s glad. It’s Beautiful .
His thinking is thrown out the window as he groans someone with the same colour armour from before came into view, they place their fingers towards his neck before realizing he’s awake. Checking to see if he’s alive, why would they? He isn’t very useful for much, other than squeeze jobs.
Humming, they threw him over their shoulder and started walking. He watched the ground; dirt, grass, plants. Not one single piece of scrap; no rats, bullets from the proceeding battle and even the ships were gone. Had he passed out and they finally got to their base? He drifts off to the sounds of trees and birds.
He wakes up alone. The two others gone, maybe taken away when they noticed his masters- his lightsaber which he normally hid in his boots. It’s gone and he’s truly alone, for the first time in a year the soothing feeling of his master kyber crystal is gone. The force, the feeling is completely gone, more broken than before the purge. Gone .
Looking around he notices that the room is small, not an ordinary interrogation room. Not the Empire that’s for sure, their armour had reminded him of the Mandalorians he had seen when he was still an initiate, working on an assignment in the archive with his clan. How he misses them. He pulls at the wrist bands that are around his arm for a while attempting to get a grasp at how sturdy they are when two of the armoured soldiers make their way into the room.
“A jetii,” the one who mutters that moves closer, grabbing at his face oozing smugness when they see the markings on his face. “Gar gai?” she asks, waiting for him to answer her question. She sighs before trying an accented basic, “your name?”
He hesitantly takes a breath before the words leave his mouth, “Cal, Cal Kestis.”
‘Revenge isn’t the Jedi way, Young Padawan.’ His Master had said, ‘Yes, do what you must to get out of whatever situation you’re in, do what you can to help those in need but do not hate your enemy. Hatred is not something you should be using in battle, keep a calm mind; take a deep breath, and say to yourself, ‘I will come back to my feelings and let them go,’
‘I will come back to my feelings,’ he thought as the woman, her armour scratched and burned, harsh and bleeding echoes . He had never been one with full control over his abilities and as he looked towards her odd companion he could clearly see echoes all around their armour, melded into scratched, the paint and even the insignia. Terrifying, he thought, not even the Vod had armour that telling.
The woman; now kneeling down beside him, takes her helmet off. She has bright blonde hair and yellow eyes, a sith? She looked amused as she looked towards him, her eyes filled with what could be mirth. No, but she looks very familiar. That’s odd, he doesn’t think he knows anyone who looks like her. The force says nothing, it's gone, left him like everyone else . “My name is Arla Fett, welcome to Kyr'tsad.”