Fictional Crisis

Some wonder about the origins of their avatar. Was it created by the writer and only the writer? Or was it inherited? Given to them by another writer who didn't want to be forgotten? This is known only to the writer. For Clonetrooperkev, his avatar, “the Clonetrooper” has been used forever.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away... there existed a warrior, known by serial number CT-711. An average fighting machine to be sure. He did his duty to protect people he had never seen before nor will ever see. For many of his kind, they felt like they were born to die. Dead upon touching the battlefield. Never would they feel the satisfaction of feeling the hug of a mother or father, having a satisfying job, taking a nap, or any other basic liberties. For them, they were basically droids.

For CT-711, he decided that if he lingered on that, he would go to madness. So he did what any person trying to avoid insanity did, he wrote everything down. He described the colors of a plasma missile hitting an energy shield, with the green explosion of the missile clashing with the blue shield, creating an image that, while terrifying, becomes something beautiful. Or writing about how a creature becomes subjugated under droid rule and at the end of that rule, falls in love with a particular droid. Or writing about how for every base or squad he was assigned to, it was never with friends. He was either reassigned or his friends died. That's why he didn't get a nickname like the rest of his brothers, he wasn't around one group long enough to have a name stick. And then of course there was his last assignment before he left everything.

He was a guard on Alderann. Protecting a building that served no actual purpose except as a shelter in case the Droid Armies ever came. In other words, for anyone else, it was a boring assignment. For CT-711, it was a chance to write about all the nature in the land. The trees climbing into the sky, the sky itself a shining blue, and the mountains that always seemed to be a different shade of gray every day. For him, this was the perfect job. Away from the horrors of war, away from people that will just end up leaving him, and away from others that lamented about their lives. He figured that, at least until the end of the war, he would be staying here. After that, it was whatever the creators had in mind.

One fall day, he was guarding his spot as per usual. Reports say that there was an incursion into Republic Space recently, so the whole world was on guard. But Alderann was a well defended target and not the first target CT-711 would want to go for first. These days, politicians were a credit a dozen, and everybody thought they could be one. But he did his job, questioning people as they passed by. Looked at any and all suspicious droids or persons carefully, everything the handbook taught him to watch out for. But there are some things Clones just cannot handle. Some things that are meant for a Jedi.

While he was questioning a Rodian that swore that in a wamprat shooting contest, a human shot before him, something wicked was approaching. It was a figure in black robes, carrying a small suitcase with a red lightsabre out. Behind the figure were two Jedi following close behind. Clone pushed the Rodian aside and took aim. He stared down the iron sights of his gun, waiting for the opportune time to shoot. He fired but the figure was too fast for him, and rushed into the building. He rushed in behind and saw that the figure collapsed the tunnel doorway behind him. The Jedi couldn't help him. He was trapped in an empty building with a force user that was carrying a suspicious device.

He made his way deeper into the building, looking down dark corridor after dark corridor, hoping to find whoever it was that wanted to destroy this place. He found himself at the center of the building with the dark figure playing with the device. CT-711 pointed his gun at the figure.

“Hands in the air!” he cried. The figure kept fidgeting with the device. CT-711 fired a warning shot. “I won't say it again.” The figured turned around.

“I'm trying to turn the damned thing off!” It was a girl, a young one at that. “My master said that the timer would give me enough time to escape, but it's going to go off in less than a minute!” She turned back to the device. CT-711 moved closer to inspect the device. It wasn't just any old bomb, it was a dark matter device, and she wasn't lying, it was going to go off, and soon. “Get out of my personal space!” She screamed. “If we don't turn this off many people are going to lose their lives.” CT-711 turned his head to the would be destroyer.

“And you didn't reconsider doing this?” he asked. She didn't answer. She just kept working. “Is there any way to localize this thing? Make it smaller?”

“There might be a way, but we're still done for once this thing goes off.” she replied. There were only 20 seconds remaining. CT-711 took out his pen and notepad and grasped it tightly.

“Do it.” CT-711 looked back at all the things he wrote about and smiled. Maybe in another time and another place, he could have had more. He looked to the bomb as it exploded. Everything around him changed, and he slowly saw himself get sucked into the singularity with the girl. After that, everything was black.

All around him, he only saw blackness. He stuck out like sore thumb with his white armor. Here there was nothing for him to comment on, nothing for him to say anything about. It was just empty blackness, and he shared it with no one. He curled up into a ball and realized that this was to be his resting place. Maybe it was because he didn't do enough in the galaxy, maybe it was because he did too much, but he found himself in his own personal hell.

He thought back to what made him want to write about things. The mystery of the world, the fact that he could go to other places and escape his own life that he hated. But his thoughts started to echo, but not in his own voice. He looked up the figure out where the voice was coming from. In the far distance he saw a white speck. He ran towards it, excited by the change in scenery. He arrived and saw that it was a window. He looked through it and saw it was a boy in an ancient robe, writing symbols on a piece of papyrus. Thing was, he recognized what the symbols meant, it was a love story. CT-711 reached out to the boy who saw the arm reaching towards him. He grabbed it and soon the boy was in the void CT-711 was in. They looked at one another. CT-711 reached out first. The boy grabbed CT-711's hand, and with a bright flash of light one figure stood where the two once were. It was boy with ancient robes with the helmet of a Clonetrooper

The figure pulled out a pen and looked to the void. He began writing in the air and the void slowly disappeared as an active world took it's place. Green hills, blue sky, and a man and a woman standing in the middle of it, talking about their love for each other. The figure spoke.

“Crossed Lovers. By ClonetrooperAl.” The boy's name, Al, was used for this new being. He was the first Clonetrooper, and certainly not the last throughout history. Every time one Clonetrooper's life came to an end, the Clonetrooper took the experience and moved on to someone new. Next was ClonetrooperBelle, and then ClonetrooperCleo, ClonetrooperDave, and so on so forth. All the ideas and experience carries over from one to the other, and now he's at his current state, the “K” state.