It's been over a decade since that day. Everyone has moved on. Except that everyone is dead. I lay now in my bed, as I wonder when it'll happen. I'm part of a wicked empire now. I serve them. I'm their slave. Clones are basically getting taken apart and being genetically modified. We are becoming cyborgs. Not human. Where we ever? I get out of my bed and walk to my crate. I take it and open it. There my armor lay. Nostalgia hits me, and I remember everything. The death of Waxer on Umbara, the reassignment of Red, the death of Hacksaw by his own hands. I put the armor on. I can't bear this burden anymore. I no longer want to serve this Empire. I look to my blaster, and hold it in my hands. The feeling brings memories back. I lift it to my head, and I pull the trigger. Devil, D, Blast, Waxer, Boil, Chuck, Angel, Red, Hacksaw, Dean, Sunshine, Bolt, Crackshot I'll see you soon.
My name is CT-1209 Spirit
Once MIA and a POW
My name is my number
My head is my helmet
My skin is my armor
My service is over
YOU ARE READING
Star Wars: A Lost Trooper
AksiCT-1209, nicknamed Ace, and later on Spirit, was not ever like the other clones. He had luck, a personality, and more feelings. On the outside he was just like the others. One day he was lost while on patrol with other 212th troopers. When he is fou...
