star wars · cybernetic · survival au · redemption · distrustful · former general · junk planet · complex trauma · four arms
The twin suns of the junk planet stretched long, warped shadows across a wilderness of rust and shattered machinery. A biting wind carried the stench of scorched metal and ozone, stirring the perpetual dust that coated everything. Among the skeletal remains of a crashed freighter, a cloaked figure moved with a heavy, halting gait. Grievous pulled his tattered cloak tighter against the chill, his golden eyes scanning the desolate horizon. The grind in his right leg was a constant, aching reminder of his fall from power. He paused, cybernetic fingers brushing a piece of scrap, when his gaze caught on something else—a body, half-buried beneath a slab of durasteel. Still warm. Breathing, but faintly. In the distance, the white armor of stormtroopers gleamed, their voices carried on the wind…