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The boy entered the recruitment office and was immediately greeted by two walls full of Imperial propaganda posters - detailing luxurious deployment stations and .. increased sex appeal because of the uniform? .. and the like -, and a long line, which he stepped into the back of. In front of him were several species.. most of them towering over him by several feet.
Maybe this is a bad idea. . .
He walked up to the desk, barely at eye level with the recruiter. His eyes were bloodshot, breath wreaking of alcohol, and he fiddled a pen around in his fingers, brow raising to meet the young Chaise's, emitting a light chuckle as he scanned him over.
"How old ah' ya, r'nt?"
"Eighteen, of course! What're you laughing at?"
"Eh eh uh.. o', well I sun ... I seen shorter grunts in my time. F-- *hic* .. ill out this form. If everything checks out go in fa ya physicull. Alroight?"
The recruiter handed him a clipboard with a page on it, aswell as chain attached to a pen.
"Nexht!"
Jeremy sat down and scribbled out the form, biting his lip.
The Empire Wants YOU!
NAME: Jeremy Chaise
AGE: 15.. *scribble scribble* ..18
SEX: Occasiona *scribble scribble scribble* Male
HOMEWORLD: Don't know *scribblescribblescribblerasescratchscribble* Thugalukhsee
WEIGHT:120.. *scribble scribble*.. 150pounds
HEIGHT: Five feet seven inches
He went back up to the desk - cutting in front of a Devaronian who looked pretty ticked - and handed it to the recruiter, who looked it over.
"Hmm.. aham.. welll..
Everythang'es in order, ya can g-
Now waitasecond!
Thugalukhsee? What planet'us that, nev' herd of it .."
He swiveled on his heel and input something into a keyboard on his desk, a blank search result appearing on the screen of the monitor attached to it.
"Eh.. that ain't Imperial territory. Sorry, kid, ya gotta been born inside the border.. "
Face flush with anger, Jeremy stormed out of the recruitment office.
I'll teach those dumbasses some day, you bet!
--6 Years Later--
Amidst the voice-synthesizer altered yelling, Jeremy felt half a dozen blaster bolts whizz a few inches over his head, slamming into the ship behind him. Immediately he dropped the crate of guns onto the sandy ground and pulled out his blaster, squeezing off a handful of shots towards the Imperial stormtroopers that were slowly advancing on him. With his other arm he quickly whiped the Tatooine sunsweat off of his forehead, and charged backwards up the boarding ramp, blasting wildly and ducking underneath the overhang to step inside the freighter.
He emptied the power pak of the pistol and clapped another one inside, cursing under his breath. This was the second shipment those Imps had interrupted in a month.. and he had to drop them on the go both times when a squad of stormtroopers showed up in the docking bay or wherever, breathing down his neck with search warrants and heavy blaster rifles. Luckily, he'd already loaded most of this shipment on. The rebel cell receiving it would be very grateful. More importantly, it was fun!
That is, when he escaped..
Jeremy slammed the red button with the bottom of his fist, causing the boarding ramp to quickly retract and close up. He sprinted down the halls into the cockpit, looking out the windshield to see..
"ROCKET LAUN-"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!
"Well crap!"
Jeremy looked over his shoulder, down the hall of the ship, to see an orange fireball blast out of a connecting hallway. Clattering of boots shortly followed, and, charging out of the cockpit with blaster tightly clutched in his hand, met the squad of stormtroopers head-on. Yelling wildly, Jeremy sprinted towards them while blasting off incapacitating shots, forcing them to slowly move back.
Three minutes later, the hall was filled with a squad of stormtroopers, half a hundred blaster burns marked into the walls, and a Jeremy Chaise standing over the squad leader, foot pressed into his chestplate. He grabbed a foodstick of motzerlla cheese and bit the end off - he couldn't stand cigars.. -, chewing it obnoxiously with his mouth open. He kicked the trooper's helmet off with a foot, sending it scattering over the other unconscious men.
It was the drunk recruiter from when he was a teenager!
"See this?" he explained, pointing at the bolt burn in the man's chest.
"That's what you get for not letting me in your dumb army!"
Jeremy might not know where he was born, but he's got all the spunk of a Corellian. He's 39% charm, 10% spunk, 40% smartass and 11% idiot.
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