You remember who you are, the red-skinned, malformed mutant; how could you ever forget? So fucking ugly even your parents threw you at the doors of an orphanage and never looked back, those were the people that were meant to love you unconditionally. But you don’t care; your isolation has given you much that others lack. You do not blindly follow the mindless cattle of the masses. Your mind isn’t shackled to the prevailing consensus. Being apart, you are free. This realisation, of course, took time. It took long years of constant bullying for you to come to this conclusion. Before this acceptance, you are ashamed to admit that you hated your physical abnormalities.

The space station that once was your prison has been replace by wherever this new jail is located. A faint errant thought intrudes in your mind, wondering if there are others like you here, sharing your red skin and the two face tendrils that frame your mouth. As quickly as the thought appears, you reject your weakness and angrily swat it away. You are not some lost alien forever dreaming of some loving reunion; you are better than that. You do not need others to improve your life and station; you have determined to do that yourself.

Constant humming from the moving conveyor belt continues as beings whisper Basic in the dark, keeping quiet as if to hide from the attention of some great beast that calls this empty hall its lair. Keeping your distance, you fight against the cloud that dulls your mind, trying to recall the very actions that brought you here. It was a Sith; you gazed at the Force user strutting around the space station that was your home for the last eighteen years. Watching from a distance with wonder in your amber eyes ass the entire world bent their knees for him. The sight hypnotised you, this emissary was able to command such respect and deference due to his rank. As you snuck closer to get a better view of the man, he spotted you in the crowd and shouted commands for your capture.

A hiss of compressed air breaks the silence as industrial pistons move, leaving every prisoner frozen in place, waiting for an invisible Nexu to pounce. Light is birthed into your world; large, armoured doors slowly slide open, killing the darkness that smothers this cargo bay. A humanoid figure stands central in the ever-widening gap with only a shadow for detail. Tears stream from your assaulted eyes as they burn in the harsh sunlight, as you try to visor them with a crimson hand. Slowly, your eyes adjust, and your view of the figure becomes clear; he too is a Sith. Royal purple robes interlaced with gold encase the human, and to his waist hangs a hilt of an energy blade.