Wolffe had just returned from a mission—an excruciatingly horrific one at that. As soon as he stepped into the base, Plo Koon and the medic were quick to escort him to the medical bay.

They had been on Khorm, attempting to liberate slaves from a heavily fortified stronghold. Each of them had a crucial role, and after a fierce battle, they succeeded in stopping Ventress. In her furious retaliation, she had savagely sliced half of his face, including his eye.

The agony was unlike anything he had ever endured, and he had promptly succumbed to the pain, losing consciousness.

When Wolffe regained awareness, he found himself lying on a medical cot, fingers gingerly tracing the bandage and gauze over his eye. The throbbing discomfort was relentless—he already understood he had lost his sight. Rather than the stark white of the bandage, his vision was consumed by impenetrable blackness.

Wolffe wouldn’t voice it, but vulnerability and self-consciousness engulfed him. Losing an eye, being left with a grotesque scar across his face—such marks felt unbefitting for a clone.

With a frustrated sigh laced with pain, he lifted a hand to rest on the bandage, wincing at the igniting sensation beneath.

"Of all things…" Wolffe muttered, bitterness coating his words. It had to be his eye, didn't it?