The Legend of the Sargent

A Mere Man in the Midst of Primordial Power

Hey everybody this is Carpboy009 here!

First and foremost this is probably the most out of cannon I'm gonna get for a long while with this story. Because I had this idea for YEARS but never figured out how to implement it into this until now.

Keep that in mind and also know I'm good enough to write stories but my poetry is shit, so I don't wanna hear it. I already know. I wanted the point to get across easy enough.

But other than that let me know what you all think of this chapter and hopefully you don't hate it too much. I'm stretching the line with this one but after this I'm going back to a more cannon point of view.

Make fun of me after you read this if you'd be so kind.

With that I hope you all enjoy it and I'll catch you all later/

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Reality is but a mere point of perception. One may see an action they do to be righteous. Another can see that same action as treachery. Another could see it as a way of monetary gain, yet another could see it as a religious sin.

Reality can be persuaded by outside forces, allowing one to think their initial thoughts of reality was flawed, to then be replaced by another. Then again, those same outside forces could force their thoughts of reality onto others.

Many men and women over centuries have tried all ways and methods of changing and creating their thoughts of reality towards others, but few have the ability to keep a sturdy hold on their own perception. Either by pure belief or plain stubbornness.

Avery Johnson could be labeled as both.

Light began to fade into his vision, the pounding sensation of pain was all he felt once again. The light was quickly made out to be green. A faded green piercing the dark sky he began to see.

Johnson groaned as he held his head and leaned upward. I front of him lay the cockpit of the shuttle. The several seats all empty. He rubbed his forehead before realizing the familiar feeing of his military cap was not there. He also realized he was laying down on his back, on the metallic floor of the shuttle. His weight wanting to roll him down hill to his right.

Looking around he saw his cap sitting upside down on the floor, next to the open floor of the shuttle's ramp. Rolling over, the weight of his armor feeling heavy on his tired body, he lifted himself up to his knees. A wave of dizziness threatened to drop him once again, but he waited to catch his breath and then step to his feet.

He walked into the cockpit to look out into the dark world in front of him. Clouds and fog all around the ship. A wall of white feet away outside the ship's hull. Another groan escaped his lips, this time of frustration.

Wherever he was, the ship had crashed and his Jedi friends were nowhere to be found... again.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." a sigh before he turned around. He approached a locker built into the wall of the cockpit. Opening it revealed its contents of several thermal detonators and a DC-17 blaster pistol. Next to them was the emergency signal blaster. He grabbed the weapons and the flare gun, magnetizing them to his lower back and left hip.

He wished he had his ODST helmet, the VISOR tech would come in handy right now... damn Mandalorians. Stealing his armor.

Without anything else, he continued to search the ship for supplies. A few rations for a few days of food and a first aid kit, nothing to help the migraine in his head over this whole trip.

Last time he let Skywalker fly a ship he's on.

He approached the ramp and as he slowly made his way down, he grabbed the cap on the ground, swatting the dirt off before pulling it tight around his head. Thank the Lord the air was breathable.