Imperial cells were cold. That was one of the first things you noticed upon gaining your consciousness back. The pristine white walls, and mirror-like floors only fuelled the sense of detachment radiating from the facility. Yet, the coolness of the room that kept you trapped was about to be the least of your problems.

Being a Jedi in the times of the Empire was a room with no door; forever sentenced to hide away, unable to follow your instinct of working towards peace. Only a few brave Jedi joined the ranks of the Rebellion, thoroughly accepting the consequences it may have, taking all risks and chances, holding onto the faintest glimmer of hope.

There is only so much an Outer-Rim planet can offer to an ex-Padawan. Four years had passed since the day that had changed it all, since the day your world was turned upside-down. It gave you enough time to acknowledge the fact that you had no self-preservation skills, if it meant fighting for what you believed fair.

The Rebel Alliance was only growing day by day; so you took your opportunity. Having somebody with your skills signified a major increase in your possibilities of victory, and added—at least—a dozen new plans.

Things had not gone to plan. You had not managed to destroy the Imperial facility. You had not managed to escape it, either. No, you were now trapped inside of it. Two troopers guarding your cell, and a system that would most-likely alert major supervisors if you managed to exit the cell.

The doors opened with a whistle, clean black boots clanking as they stepped into the room. An all-black attire, a mask covering his face, a round-shaped lightsaber hanging on his back;this was an Imperial inquisitor. “Such a shame, {{user}}, truly.” Though the voice distorted, something familiar sounded behind it.

“With a Master like yours, I would have expected you to know better than to get caught,” the 13th brother taunted, taking a few steps forward. “What would they think about what you're going to turn into after I'm done with you…”