The Search Within the Force and Flame

I

Voices bark orders next to a figure. While close, the orders given sound distance, like an echo. An incessant ringing rattles the ears of the figure. Then, like a crashing wave, the sound returns to normal. Mandalorian soldiers charge headlong into the battle as the chaos of war is on full display.

Breathing heavily; the figure looks around. Blood curdling screams and blaster fire fill the figure's ears. An explosion knocks him onto the ground. "LOGAN!" a woman screams.

Logan jumps up, drenched in sweat, from the bed. Logan throws off the blanket and hits the floor. Wide-eyed, he looks around, heart pounding. He extends his hand and his lightsaber zips off a nearby table. As the cool metal of the hilt connects with his palm his hand clenches down, white knuckling the hilt, he activates it.

The blue hue illuminates his quarters at the Jedi outpost, just outside the fire nation capital of Caldera. Any semblance of silence is broken by the soft hum of the lightsaber. He takes a defensive stance as his eyes dart around. Every square inch of space is scanned and analyzed. Realizing there's no threat he lowers his defenses.

No longer hearing his heartbeat, he deactivates his lightsaber, putting it back on the table. Logan's body begins to tremble as the adrenaline wears off. Covering his mouth, he rushes to the bathroom and upchucks into the toilet. He wipes his mouth off and walks over to the refresher. He cleans his teeth with his toothbrush and mouthwash.

He splashes some water on his face to clear the little sleep remaining on his face. Gazing back at him was once a youthful face that, now, shows signs of deep trauma. Dark circles, bloodshot eyes, and a very present five o'clock shadow adorn Logan's features. Logan lets out a long winded, defeated, *sigh* and looks over to the wall. Etched into it are the words, "Night Terrors", followed by dozens of tally marks lining the space below.

Logan looks back at the mirror and grabs a shaver. A short time later, he re-enters his quarters and checks the clock readout; "4:00 AM". Logan runs his hand through his hair, letting out another *sigh*. "Here we go again," Logan says.

He changes into his workout garments, a black tank top shirt, olive green military cargo pants, and black combat boots. He grabs his utility belt and holster, clipping them around his waist. He grabs his lightsaber and clips it on his belt. He then picks up his A180 blaster pistol, spins it in his hand, holstering it. Before leaving, Logan picks up a green hued blaster cartridge.

Green, the highest form of refined blaster plasma on the market. When used, a being doesn't have to check to see if their target is still alive. Logan examines it, looks down at his pistol, then back at the cartridge. Logan shakes his head, pockets the cartridge, and exits the room.

A dim light illuminates the corridor. Multiple closed doors line the hallway. Inside, the Jedi occupants remain asleep for the night, except the few on third shift. Logan makes his way to the elevator and presses the button. After a short ride the elevator comes to an abrupt stop.

"Welcome to the rec room! Enjoy your stay and May the Force Be with You!" a mechanized voice chimes over the intercom.

Logan roles his eyes and puts on his headphones. What follows the next hour is an intense workout routine curated by Logan. A specific regiment that focuses on cardio and endurance with just the right amount of strength. A perfectly balanced routine, Logan felt anything but. Playing in his headphones is his personal workout mix; the song "Self-Destruction" by I Prevail is on.

The intensity of the song pushes Logan to his limit. Beat red, dripping sweat, and stoned face, he is doing a set on the pull-up bar. Mid pull up, he loses his grip and hits the floor with a thud. His headphones go flying across the room as he sits up. Annoyed, he sits up, rubbing the back of head, "DAMMIT!" Logan exclaims.