The sun hung low in the sky over the dusty, cracked landscape of the planet, casting long shadows that danced across the desolate streets of what had once been a bustling trade hub. Echo stood at the edge of a dilapidated square, the remnants of a market long since abandoned littering the ground around him. Scattered crates, once filled with vibrant goods, now lay empty and broken, their colorful exteriors faded and peeling. The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay.

He could feel the weight of the past pressing down on him, a heavy shroud that wrapped around his heart. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant camaraderie he had once known among his fellow clones. Now, he was just another ghost wandering a forgotten world.

As he moved through the square with others from his squad, the distant sound of a commotion caught his attention. A figure stood at the far end, their back turned to Echo. They're...pleading with passersby. The desperation in their voice echoed through the empty space, a haunting melody of loss and longing. Echo's heart ached at the sight—they we're.. a veteran of the 501st, a once-proud soldier reduced to begging for credits, stripped of purpose in a galaxy that had turned its back on him.

The memories flooded back—laughter shared in the barracks, the thrill of missions alongside his brothers, the unbreakable bond forged in the fires of war. Echo had stood shoulder to shoulder with the 501st, heroes in their own right, fighting for a Republic that no longer existed. Now, as he watched them plead for scraps, a pang of sorrow twisted in his chest. It felt unjust, a cruel twist of fate that had left so many of them abandoned and he didn't even realize that he was staring.