Everything was cold and dank. Marr'ad could feel it seeping into his bones as he shivered a little, glancing around the room. He wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes and wishing Kali'k were here. Kali'k would know what to do, he'd know how to get out and how to get home. But he was back on Kamino and Marr'ad was who knows where.
He opened his eyes a little and scanned the room, mentally going over the assessment of it. According to training, that was the first step. Assess your surroundings, find the weak spots, the move from there. It was that easy, and that hard.
The cold made it hard to focus and Marr'ad could hardly keep himself still, plus the dank musty air felt heavy and he was getting lightheaded trying not to breathe through his nose. Just to make it worse, he had no recollection of how he'd gotten to where he was in the first place, so he had no knowledge of his outside surroundings.
Marr'ad shivered again, but this time at the thought of not getting out. He didn't want to die here and be left to rot. He was only 16, he had wars to fight, victories to claim. He had his whole life ahead of him and he didn't want it to end here.
He took in a shaky breath and forced himself to move from his huddled up position. He glanced down to assess what he might have with him. He had his bodysuit, which should have kept him warm, but it was failing. He seemed to have on his training armor as well, or at least some of it. His boots had been taken, most likely to deter him from running, but he knew better than to let that stop him.
He kept his arms wrapped around himself as he looked up, moving towards one of the walls. The ceiling wasn't far up, and the walls were durasteel. It looked like there were several panels along them but they were all locked shut by an internal mechanism. Marr'ad found a door as well, but it was locked too. Even so, all the features together, the way it was built and the use of space suggested he was on a ship.
That mean's I'll have to take care of the pilot if I ever get out of here, Marr'ad thought. He frowned and tried to recall the next step in his training. Even though as a Commando he'd been taught to think outside the box, he wasn't terribly advanced in his training yet and right now, the procedure was all he had to go off of.
Marr'ad returned to the corner where he'd been before and sank down, looking down at the floor. He couldn't recall the next step, so he'd have to improvise. The first thing that came to mind, though, was a need for a map. That would at least help him know where he was.
He looked around a bit before locating a loose screw, not only a useful weapon for later, but also a good drawing utensil. He managed to scratch a loose rendering of the room he was in and based on its size and make, tried to outline the rest of the ship. The shape and materials of the room suggested he was on a personally sized craft, but a modified one. Possibly a bounty hunting ship, although the only people close to Kamino who would own anything of that grade and type were the occasional mercenaries brought in for specialized training.
If this is a training test, so help me I am going to yell at someone, he thought in frustration. He wasn't exactly fond of some of the more crude methods some trainers had and he'd already had enough of the "specialized" training his old trainer had given him before the Jedi found out what he was really up to and kicked him out.
Marr'ad finished the map and looked it over. It probably wasn't totally accurate, but it was something to go off of. Now he just had to figure out how to get that door open.
He got up and shakily moved over there. The room seemed to have gotten several degree's colder since he'd first woken up and it was hard to move without sending his whole body into a frigid spasm. He'd kill for something warm right now, but he'd have to get out first.
He made it to the door and began inspecting it slowly, looking around all the edges for a mechanism, screws, bolts, anything that he could tamper with to get it open. He searched every inch as thoroughly as possible, but to no avail.
Growling a little in frustration, Marr'ad staggered around the corner and sank down, curling up and hugging his knee's to his chest. He hunched up, his fingers and limbs feeling stiff. He didn't think he had the energy to keep moving, not the body heat to ward off frostbite much longer.
He closed his eyes some, just keeping himself curled up as tight as possible to retain whatever body heat might remain.
Then he heard the door creak open, and he perked up slowly, lifting his head and opening his eyes. Perhaps he could jump his captor and escape while there was a chance. Either way, he needed to know who his captor was.
He looked up as the man came around the corner and tensed up, ready for a fight. The moment his captor stepped into view, though, Marr'ad hesitated. He didn't jump up, nor did he go into an attack, instead he stood there and stared at the tall man staring down at him with piercing black eyes and a near-perpetual smirk.
B-but...the Jedi dismissed him. It can't be, t-that's my old trainer... Marr'ad's thought stumbled over one another as his mind reeled in an effort to make sense of what he was seeing. The man he thought was gone from his life forever now standing over him, smirking like he'd caught some sort of prize.
"Remember me?" the older man snickered, his eye's narrowing a little.
For the first time, Marr'ad caught a glimpse of the dangerous glitter of malice in the older man's eyes. Even so, he could only bring himself to utter the man's name in complete disbelief.
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Back with more one-shots, crazy OC's, and a half-insane author, The Grand Army of Randomness 2! Silver: But the cover says... Shut up, Silver. Silver: Why do I even try?