FIVE YEARS AGO, I was sent on a mission that would change my life forever. Little did I know, it would end it as well...
As a Trainee in the Aviation program, Poe Dameron comes from a broken family. His mother died when he was Eight, his Father brok...
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ELYSE WARNED ME OF WHAT COULD HAPPEN IF I WAS FOOLISH ENOUGH TO TEST MY LUCK... She told me that on this mission, I die. And now, I'm not so certain I'll be able to keep my promise of survival to her. I better. I have so much I want to tell her. — Poe Dameron
"Commander Dameron you need to know that this mission could jeopardize the whole Resistance operative. One slip in this mission could instantly get you killed. If you are captured by The First Order, you must understand that no one will come to save you. You're on your own in this."
General Organa's words ring in the back of my mind as I lay on this stupid table. The constant pain causes my vision to be decorated with dark spots. I blink them away and close my eyes.
"No one will come to save you."
A small part of me wonders what it was that compelled me to take this mission. Why me of all people? And why was I happy to take it? Was it just the feeling that I had to? To keep my position? To impress the General and prove to her that I was a good Commander? No. I think it was the thrill that I wanted to prove that I was brave enough to do it. And now... The Resistance will have to go on without me. I've let my parents down.
"I had no idea we had the 'Best Pilot in the Resistance' on board."
I sit up slowly, looking up at the man in the mask. Kylo-Ren. Ben Solo, brother to Elyse Organa-Solo.
"Comfortable?" He asks.
I shrug.
"Not really." I reply, nonchalantly.
He tilts his head, taking a slow stride forward. I know what's behind his mask. I'm not scared of him. I know that deep down, he's the same boy I was friends with all of those years ago.
"I'm impressed." He says. "No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map."
His words are accentuated sharply. His Gait is a fluid smooth form of a sort of sharpness. Casual, yet refined. I cock an eyebrow and look up at him.
"You might want to rethink your technique." I say.
He lifts his right hand and suddenly, a wave of anxiety floods over me. But this one is brought on by an outside force. He's forcing this feeling upon me. Suddenly, I'm choking almost. I can't breathe. I'm scared. A flash of my Mother pops into my head. I wheeze sharply as I try to shake it. He throws me further into my seat, causing my head to hit the back of the chair. My back arches and I gasp. I take in as much air as possible. The struggle returns and I'm trembling again.
