![]() Looking over at the ARC helmet that rested upon his nightstand, he felt undeserving. Twitch, Slider, Diego, Scuff, Captain Keeli, Needler, Hangar, Trite, and many others had fallen, yet he lived. The escape from Ryloth was pure luck in his opinion, built upon the sacrifices of those before him. Then came the final defensive, in which he fully expected to perish in, yet by some twist of fate he didn't. It became about survival, day after day, strike after strike, watching more and more of his brothers die and lie in the baking Twi'lek sun to be devoured by carrion beasts. Just a few months ago, he was an optimistic, battle-hungry shiny, ready and anxious to kick the Seppies in the krunk-nuts, but after weeks of gruelling fighting and near-death experiences, he had lost that excitement. It was a far leap from where he had been on Ryloth. Here he was on Coruscant, an ARC Commander of his own Squad of troopers, preparing to join the war effort with the 501st Legion. ![]() It was nearly noon, and he should have been out and about, but today he felt. Sitting on the edge of said bed inside of his room in the barracks, he turned the handle of his deceased General's lightsaber over in his hands. If Raid could have a redo of the day, he would have just stayed in bed. Though it would have been abandoned otherwise, the ARC Trooper question whether he should possess it,Īnd he is not the only one to have such thoughts. With the passing of Jedi Master Ima-Gun Di, Commander Raid now is in possession of his saber.
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