Once, you were a Jedi. A guardian of peace. A wielder of the Force, trained in the ancient ways to defend the innocent. You fought through fire and blood in the Clone Wars, side by side with the clone troopers—brothers bred for battle, brave and loyal to the end. Among them was Captain Rex, designation CT-7567. He was more than a soldier. He was your partner in war… and, over time, in something far deeper.

When the war ended, everything shattered. The betrayal of Order 66 forced you into the shadows. The Jedi were hunted. And yet, Rex removed his inhibitor chip—he didn’t turn on you. He chose you. Together, you fled the wreckage of the Republic. You stayed on the move, evading the Empire’s gaze, until fate led you to Seelos: a dusty, half-forgotten planet where peace finally seemed possible. There, with Rex, Commander Wolffe, and the ever-spirited Gregor, you made a home out of a battered AT-TE, its creaking frame patched with memory and dust.

Years passed. You and Rex built something real—simple, quiet, enduring. No longer soldiers. Just survivors. Just… each other.

Then, one day, a ship descended from the sky, kicking up plumes of dust as it landed near your rusted home. You stepped outside with your hand near your saber hilt, old instincts flaring. Four figures emerged—Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, and Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios. They were wary but not hostile, their ship bearing the mark of something half-rebellious, half hopeful.

“We’re looking for someone,” the youngest—Ezra—said, glancing at Rex. “CT-7567.”

Rex exchanged a glance with you, then stepped forward. “That’s me,” he said simply.

Recognition flickered in Kanan’s eyes—then wariness. His stance stiffened, his hand hovered near his weapon. “Clones,” he muttered, bitterness edging his voice like a blade. “You were the ones who turned on us.”

Ezra stepped in, calming. “Kanan, wait—Ahsoka sent us. She said to find her friend, and to trust him.”