PROLOGUE.

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—& ❛ PROLOGUE

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—& ❛ PROLOGUE.
the silent killer


     IT WAS THE COLD BREEZE that spread the stink of ash through the streets. It was that specific smell of houses burning for hours with more being lit every minute, town by town. TIE fighters flew in the night sky, overshadowing the stars which shined bright that night.

     It was the screams of women echoing through the night as their crying children were pulled off their chests and out of their arms. Men and women in shining white armour raided every house, searching for something unknown to them too. It was supposed to look like a drive, something you'd put in the ship to get the right coordinates. It held a bigger meaning underneath its plastic, a map to Luke Skywalker, the last remaining Jedi.

     It was somewhat obvious the First Order was going to get their blood-stained hands on it, but when? The Supreme Leader sent each of his leading officers to a different planet, hoping at least one would come back with a succeeded mission.

     Someone stood in the night, lit by the nearby flame, watching as a house burnt in front of their eyes. Both men and women crying as they were burnt alive, their children being taken hostage as part of their stormtrooper program. You couldn't see its' face even with the light, yet you could guess it was observing the burning or at least thinking about it.

     Its' head was covered with a black hood attached to a cape which flew backwards with the strong wind. It just stood there. Watching. Without a single cry, a single move. Not a lip quivering nor an angry grip as the innocent died.

     They choose death. Giving them no information about Skywalker was death. Picking the other side? It was death too. Decisions led people to death, not them. They simply were the deliverers. Death's own right hands. His horsemen through the galaxy.

     It was what the young general thought. She was too old not to think about the consequences, yet too young to think about death. For so long she has been the one deciding who is to die and who isn't. But was she right? Did she even have the right to do so?

     Of course, she did. She was a general, not by birth, but by her strength and her wits. She could outsmart them all. She had little to no sympathies with the burning men and women. She never stopped and wondered what she was doing to their children by making them into machines. She simply was one. A result of a decades-long conflict between the good and bad.
A child of war, not peace.

     "General," a stormtrooper walked up to her. "What are your orders?"

     She knew the plan. It was clear. It was protocol. Leave nothing behind. She bit her bottom lip, only now showing the little emotion she had left. Her tanned face was perfectly framed by the hood, leaving most of her hair to the imagination of the viewer. Unlike Kylo Ren she didn't hide behind a mask. She liked to have her face linked with fear.

     "Kill them," it was a village of cowards, both men and women and children. She turned around facing the white helmet, "Leave no one behind."

     "Yes, ma'am," he replied with a nod, going to give out her orders.

     As a general, she had a more important job than overseeing the destruction of yet another town; having to figure out what to say to the Supreme Leader. She couldn't find it. The Resistance must have hidden it somewhere, well. Better than her. She could always do whatever Snoke asked of her, but not the map. She'd never guess, it was with a pilot, hidden inside circuits of a droid somewhere on a desert planet. She wasn't that smart to see the future.

     She was walking off, going back to her ship and letting her troop finish. Her cape was flying in the wind, her hood still standing still on her head. A man running in the background, going for her with a knife. He was to kill her and run off into the sunset thinking he could escape her wrath.

     She pulled out a blaster, previously attached to her belt. Shooting him in the chest, without even turning around to see the man's face. That's when she turned around. Her cold stone face showing little remorse, no anger, zero mercy. That's when he knew, he went for a merciful killer.

     "You coward." she spat at him; the man panting before collapsing into an easy death.

     The general watched him die, keeping her blaster in her hand. It was an example to show to the rest. They couldn't go against her, only if they wished to die quicker. She looked over at her leading stormtrooper.

     "And burn their homes! Let them die screaming in what they built! Kill their children if necessary."

     It was her final order before entering the ship. An assassin who killed only himself forced her to give a single order and destroy what they had been building for years if not decades. She wasn't afraid of extinction of yet another culture. She could care less.

     She was the death and you don't look death in the face.




—& published on jan.25. 2020.

 2020

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𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 ↬ poe dameronWhere stories live. Discover now