Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Captain Phasma Imagine: Part One

Captain Phasma Imagine: Part One

Note: Hiya. Remember to request things.

Warnings: Vulgar language. But kriff, is it hard to avoid cursing.

Captain Phasma Imagine: Part One

"Look down at your hands. You have ten fingers and two palms laid out in front of you, correct?"

A few kids who were looking at the back of their hands turned them over, staring intently at slightly chubby digits.

"You aren't holding anything, but you'll be surprised to learn that on every finger, on either hand, there is a tool. And with all of those tools combined, it's entirely possible for you to hold the world."

The inspirational message was delivered by a monotone instructor, and most of the kids stared down at their hands, tears pricking at the corner of their eyes. Most of them were still wearing their own clothing, torn from the struggle of being taken from their homes early in the morning. This is how these things went. These children, not one over ten years old, were new recruits.

One girl, situated towards the back of the room, looked exceptionally ragged and strung out. A pale pink dress hung limply from her shoulders, and her (H/c) hair was matted with dirt, sweat, and quite possibly blood. She'd been the first taken, her family fought the most to keep her. The only thing she had to show for their struggles was a bruise forming on her left cheek and the searing image of her parents dead on the floor.

This message hit her exceptionally hard, and as tears splattered on her right palm she closed her fingers around them, clenching the resulting fist so tight the skin around her knuckles turned white. She stared at it, intently, until the instructor walked over to her and grabbed the fist, carelessly uncurling the fingers with his own.

"There will be time enough for that later. You will raise your fists for the first order, not against it."

There will be time enough for that later.

These words stuck with her for some time.

~~~~

YN-4276 

22 years of age

Origin: Corellia

Status: On Probation

This wasn't the first time she'd been written up for some bullshit misconduct, but she felt strongly that this was an ill-deserved citation. She'd only argued with her instructor, the real reason she was on probation was because she called him an 'Imbecile'. Stormtroopers were known for their detached brutality and their obedience, specifications which YN only half-met.

She had been out of training for four years and proved herself useful beyond the typical Stormtrooper rather quickly. She seemed admirably violent, which might have been invaluable on the battlefield, but suited her poorly to days of drills and synchronization. This time, her instructor had decided that enough was enough--she needed some real discipline. Sending her to be reformed was only a short-term solution if they even got any results from her.

She'd argued with battle strategies, forgotten her place, and back-chatted her betters long enough. And thus, like a naughty child, she waited for Captain Phasma herself to come in and thrash her so terribly her psyche would have trouble walking for weeks.

She was instructed to sit on the side of the harsh metal table farthest from the door, and her file was laid out facing her seat when she entered the room.

The room itself was little more than an interrogation room, minus the intense restraint table most subjects of torture were laid upon and strapped to. It surprised her that they didn't have one in the room with her, just to remind her that they could.