The sunrise never really bothered Zodac, the warmth of light offered a comfort he was rarely able to feel. It felt surreal in its own right, like it wasn’t actually happening; as if some heavenly savior was coming down to save this sinner from himself, but Zodac knew he was not worthy of such things. He was a filthy mercenary, taking odd jobs merely to sustain himself, scrounging for scraps like an animal - not that he was far from one.

This morning, however, he felt no comfort. Instead, a cold, constant breeze that brought goosebumps to his exposed arms. This foreign feeling opened the eyes of the nomad instantly, his arm reaching up, his finger instinctively making a pulling motion, but to no avail. No shots were fired and all was silent, and in the heat of the moment, he was convinced he was somehow robbed of his only possessions, the gear he bore and the clothes on his back. To his utter dismay, as the realization of his situation set in, he was not in some dark room he would have rented from a tapster for cheap with a bed as hard as stone. He discovered it to be a dorm eerily similar to those on Jedha from when he was a hovertank commander.

He looked down at his hands to find the scars that blanketed his body had all but disappeared, skin as soft as it was in days long past. Zodac trembled, eyes darting all about the room, the muffled sound of music blaring from behind a closed door nearby. His clothes had changed too, from his usual get-up of armor and dirty clothes to clean, fresh leisure-wear, supplied from the Empire. Moping toward the sound, he felt a lump in his throat, tremble present, face white as a grand admiral uniform. His steps were careful and slow, heart palpitating, something he hadn’t felt since the battle on Jakku.

Pushing open a creaking old door, he was instantly able to make out the faces of soldiers that had previously been under his command. The lot of them, who were once as young as he, were sitting around a crate playing sabacc without a worry in the world. Viera, the woman he loved, sat there with a joyous smile, as beautiful as he remembered. Perhaps even more so, now that he was able to see her in the flesh. The squeak of the door's hinges brought the eyes of everyone onto him, and a smile to all of their faces.

“Commander, commander! Come, join us! We’ve just begun!” Eli called, the youngest of the soldiers, raising his hand and patting the seat beside him. Zodac blinked a few times, his heart beating as rapidly as it could. His breathing became heavy, eyes darting from face to face.

Everyone was… happy.

Now panting like a dog, a tear ran down his cheek. Not of joy to see the people he had cared for the most, the people who forever stained his memory, but of fear. This was not a reality. His soldiers had fallen before him, many of which he held as they gave their final breaths.

To be honest, he didn’t know what it was, but he knew it wasn’t real.

“Commander?”

With a heavy heart and a trembling jaw, he shakily nodded as to acknowledge the young man.

“Will you join us?” The voice echoed, eyes of the dead gazing upon him.

There was no response.

Tears hit the floor with no indication they would stop. Zodac walked to a door that lead to the outdoors, but it was locked. He violently shook the door, but it rattled and nothing more. Some of the men stood in concern for their commander, but his wide eyes gazed upon them.

“None of us have been able to leave. We called for help some time ago, but nobody's come ‘round. Playin’ cards to kill time. Come on, play a few hands and we’ll be out soon, no biggie. Just sit down.” One said, approaching Zodac.

“Stay the fuck away from me. Get the fuck away from me!” He screamed, trying to push the soldier back. “Don’t you fucking dare approach me!” He cried out, his voice cracking.

Viera stood, her hands up, trying to calm the crazed commander down. Her soft words were soothing, but they were not real. None of this was real. He must have died in his sleep he thought, been killed or something, and he was unsure if he was in heaven or hell here among his soldiers, people who he once called friends. Among people he loved, who had died because of his loyalty to a tyrant. Whatever god waited above knew of this sinner, whose atrocities could never be forgotten or forgiven, and has cast judgement.

A tortured soul, who filled the shell of a hollow person. If this was heaven, he thought, he'd rather be in hell.

The others stood and rushed to Zodac, a scream of terror filling the air. They grabbed him, attempting to hold his arms to his sides and grabbing his kicking legs, bringing their commander to the ground. He continued to claw at the arms that appeared to hold him down, but his resistance was futile. Unable to move even an inch, he was beginning to run short on breath. Zodac felt light headed, but continued to kick and scream, desperate.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and was surrounded by people, not his peers, but strangers who had gathered to watch the insane man kick around and yell in his sleep. Some had come to help as well, trying to force Zodac awake by shaking him. Laying among filth in an alley, he sat up panting and looking at those who surrounded him.

“Go on, git. Nothin’ more to see.” He called out. While the small crowd went along, a few stayed to make sure the human wasn’t on death sticks or anything similar. He assured them he would be fine, that it was merely a night terror, and to move on.

After they had finally left, Zodac propped himself against the wall, and sunk his face into his hands. Though he tried his damndest not to, he began to cry. As the morning light took Zodac into its warm embrace, he felt no comfort. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to feel at all.