Callsign: Forsterb01
Name: Ben Forster
Place Of Birth: Coruscant
Age: 17
Height: 6ft
Weight: 12 stone
Hair Colour: Brown
Eye Colour: Brown
Species: Human
Build: Slightly overweight but still muscular underneath.
Race: Caucasian
Distinguishing Feature: Badly scarred left hand generally covered with glove.
Character: Ben is a distinctly reclusive man, but when engaged in a discussion can be very active, but when questioned on his background and, in particular, on his hand, will go strangely quiet, and will rarely talk about it.
However, when out in-flight he is much more talkative, and prides himself on being able to effectively communicate in tough situations. He was never much of a leader, but he will try and put as much effort into whatever he has to do with much vigour, and so is often liked by his superiors.
He uses what could be termed, in our world, as 'British' colloquialisms, as these are what were prevalent in the area he was raised in. He is often woken by vivid dreams of a terrible incident in his past, and this also seems to be mournful, but this could just be his attitude to training.
He will be friendly if talked to, and is respectful towards his elders and superiors, and he is a deeply loyal character, and is extremely disappointed by a failure by others to be as loyal, and if he suspects treason of betrayal of any form he is likely to confront the person with his evidence.
His life is based on the Empire; he sees it as the embodiment of the future and the only way to protect the Galaxy and to ensure the security and defence of the citizens of the Territory possessed by the Empire, the Rebels' murder of his father never far from his thoughts whilst in-flight.
Background: On a cold day in the latter days of the year, deep in the shopping region of that indescribable world-city Coruscant, a small light on the edge of a dull metal sphere flashed inside a waste container. This event was noticed by no-one, it was ignored, but the events that followed weren't so forgettable. An explosion tore through the area, vaporising thousands of people in a searing blast of plasma, causing injuries to nearly half a million in the surrounding area, and causing suffering on a different plane to millions of others. But this tale of pain and suffering would have been pointless in this story if it wasn't for a small side effect the bomb had. A small distance away, out of the reach of the explosion itself, but not out of the reach of the shockwave, a young couple was shopping.
As the shockwave expanded the young couple was flung across the street, the young pregnant female landing on the pavement, but her husband being flung into the window of one of the antique shops, which, due to the owners' fascination with the antiquated technology of the past, was fitted with a glass sheet. The young woman, barely an adult, was now writhing on the floor in pain, as her contractions started. As everyone else picked themselves off the floor a group gathered around the birth, all straining to help. And there, on the street, on the day of one of the Empires worst civilian disasters, a child was born, that child was Ben Forster. His father did not fare so well. The force of the shockwave as he went through the glass window shredded him, his flesh torn from his confident figure as he was helplessly thrown to his death. His remains were never fully recovered and his remains were disposed of by the government, no-one having the heart to tell the new mother the fate of her husband, and the babies' father.
This event ingrained Jennifer Forster, the mother, with a deep-rooted hatred of anything non-Imperial, as she saw the Empire as the only way of protecting herself and her child. She was quick to move back in with her parents, who lived in one of the lower regions of Coruscant, one of the regions most tourists' are unaware of. His mother took a job working as a secretary at a local government office.
As a young child Ben spent most of his free time during the day at the Imperial Day Nursery, a service provided free to young mothers in the employ of the Empire. Here, as well as being taught how to read, how to right and those most basic things children learn, he was educated about the Empire, about the glory and the power of the Emperor, as well as to fear and respect the mighty Imperial Navy. Jennifer never forgot her husband, and she never remarried, or even dated, and so Ben's male role-model was his Grandfather, who, as a staunch Imperialist, reinforced his mother's teachings, and so Ben grew up with deeply entrenched views about the world.
When he went to School he went to the State-run local school, and so his education continued to be along the same lines, except of course he progressed in terms of the other subjects, moving on from the basics to some quite complicated things by the time he went to Secondary school, at the age of 12. Here he joined a small youth group, the Imperial Cadet Force, founded in a couple of the schools in this area by a concerned social worker named Octavia Hill. Her dream of a disciplined group of youngsters who would go on to join the Imperial Army never came true however, as, due to the corrupting influence of youth culture in lower Coruscant, it soon became just another gang on the streets, albeit one with pre-fabricated bases and a collection of old but effective stormtrooper/clone weapons, which Ms. Hill had been able to acquire from several sympathetic Imperial officers.
Ben was popular in these groups, but his size and intellect made him the perfect lower ranker, and he was promoted quickly to the rank of corporal in this "organisation" and was instrumental in the beating of many who opposed his newfound masters. His devout loyalty to the Empire was transferred to the Imperial Cadet Force, and he was part of many conflicts (at one point the entire area was sealed off until these cooled down!) until there were just two gangs left in his locality. The Haloes, as the rivals were known, were long-established, and had contacts across the planet, but were equipped with blasters that had been handed down for generations in the gang, as these weapons held a sort of religious importance to them. As a result many did not have blasters, but had to get by with older projectile weapons. The final showdown happened the day after Bens 15th birthday; a great battle erupted across the entire administrative area. People were afraid to go to work as weapons fire was heard and seen on every street as the ICF pushed forward towards the Headquarters of the Haloes.
This battle would change Bens life. As a trusted NCO in the organisation, Ben was picked to lead one of the platoons who would spearhead the final assault. Wearing Clone armour provided to them by a Stormtrooper Officer who saw this as a way to further the Empires control over these regions, they used tactics taught to them during the early days of the ICF, when it was still a youth group, and which had now become standard training for all new members, they advanced towards the Headquarters of the Haloes. It was slow progress, with neither side willing to surrender a single street without a struggle, but soon enough 4 platoons of the ICF's elite troops, the Imperial Legion, as they were called, plus a further two standard platoons, armed with blasters and semi-modern weaponry but wearing only the clothes on their backs, some of which had insignia on them, closely resembling the Imperial insignia of the real Imperial Army.
The platoon commanders assembled near to the Haloes HQ, an abandoned factory, to discuss tactics. As the youngest and lowest ranked NCO, Bens Platoon was assigned to the rearguard, and ordered to clear any resistance left after the other three platoons swept through the building. This was not as simple as it sounded, as the resistance was high, and although men were lost, all three assault platoons reached their targets. However, one small problem was left. One of the Haloes lieutenants had locked himself in a small part of the factory with a group of loyal men. Although not a direct threat, the commanding sergeant was eager to eradicate the entire enemy. As Ben's platoon manoeuvred into position on the inside, the survivors of the group outside moved around the perimeter to concentrate their fire on this one location. Bolstered by fresh reinforcements many of these youths were terrified but excited by this experience, many had never actually fought their rivals before and the adrenaline was pumping trough their body. But inside, Ben, a young veteran amongst these youngsters, was contemplating how many men he would lose. Even with the Equipment they had they weren't immortal. As his men checked their weapons he surveyed the area to be stormed. Their doors were bolted shut, but that was nothing that couldn't be sorted with a quick blaster shot, and the majority of those inside would be fighting with those outside.
His troops moved swiftly after he gave the order to attack. Blasting open the door the kid with the repeating blaster opened up on the interior. After a few seconds of this his troops moved in, with the first one through the door gunned down by the surviving occupiers. Two of his men dived down on either side of the door and opened up on those inside. From his concealed position near the door he could here the screams of those inside, but he knew he had to destroy them. With those next to the door covering them, a third man moved through the door and followed by a support group, quickly mopped up any remaining fighting spirit. The target was dispatched with a shot to the chest, and when he finally deemed it safe enough to enter the room, only one boy was left alive. This young 12 year old was squirming on the floor, begging the troopers around him for his life. In a rare moment of pity, Ben decided to spare his life. "Let him go Private." He ordered. "Corporal, are you sure that's wise?" his second in command queried. "Yes, what harm can THAT do to us, eh?" "True, ha&." They laughed off the suggestion that this pathetic creature was ever going to be a threat, and soon he was dispatched from the scene with an escort to his home.
After this last operation the Haloes were finished, and although a few pockets of resistance existed across the area, the Imperial Legion returned to their Headquarters, in a building originally created for the ICF by the local government, just 4 years before. The boys removed their armour, which was safely stowed away, and broke down into small groups of three or four to return to their homes, their part was over. As Ben and one of his neighbours who was a member of his platoon rounded the corner towards their home, they saw a large gang of former Haloes gathered round a speeder, parked in front of the entrance to Bens home. "Corporal&" John, his neighbour, said. "Don't worry, I'm sure they wouldn't try anything, not here in the street, after all we've just done" Ben replied, nerves clearly showing in his voice.
"If you're sure Corporal, I'll be off home then, see you tomorrow."
"Bye, and don't get yourself hurt, I might need you to actually do something tomorrow!" "
"Ha, alright sir, bye!"
"Ben walked slowly up to his front door, but as he approached it, two of the members of the gang detached themselves and walked towards him, closely followed by a smaller, much shabbier figure. As they approached he realised who the smaller figure was. The young boy, still wearing the clothes he had last seen him in, he could still clearly see the damp patch on his trousers where the boy had clearly urinated himself. "Ah, Corporal, is it? We want to talk, or, more precisely, one of our 'friends' want to talk." Ben could clearly see his Haloe badge underneath his covering jacket now, and he knew that he didn't really have a choice. These men, twenty-years old at most, were bigger than him and, without the armour, far better protected and armed than him. As if to reinforce the point, the second man, obviously a lower rank than the first, pulled out a small blaster, a weapon Ben was unfamiliar with.
Suddenly, he could feel his exposed position, and he could tell that a further group was moving behind him. Suddenly, he felt a firm grip on either arm, and even his well trained muscles couldn't break the hold. Then the little weakling stepped forward and tried to punch Ben in the stomach, a move he barely felt. "I'll teach you to kill my friends!" the little man cried, still barely registering on Ben's radar. As swiftly as the first movement he was bundled into the back of the speeder and was taken away, on a long journey through a large area of the lower levels, lasting nearly a standard hour. After arriving in an area he was completely unfamiliar with, Ben was wrenched from the vehicle and dragged into a room with a chair at the other end. "Put him down" came a voice from the chair. He was thrown to the floor, from where he was lifted and put into another chair, on the edge of the room, and attached to several painful looking objects. "Mr. Forster, you will pay for what your gang has done to us. Do not worry that you are the only one, there are others, but believe me, you will all suffer, badly." The voice had a strangely non-human quality, but he couldn't tell where it was from, and he was soon distracted.
Many hours followed with a wide variety of different forms of torture, all of which were horrifically painful and left many scars across his body, and causing both physical and mental pain, and even two years later he is still waking up with the terribly realistic dreams, many of which do not finish until he has experienced the most horrific and long-lasting injury. For the final humiliation his left hand was taken and placed into a vat of strong acidic compounds, and he felt the flesh torn off of his hand and could feel the acid eat into the muscle underneath as it edge closer and closer to his bone. Fortunately for him, the Haloes were more interested in making a statement than physically crippling him, and removed his hand with time to spare. Then, with a crude knife, they cut the symbol of the Haloes deep into the muscle of his hand, even as he lay there writhing in sheer pain. He passed out as they began the carving of his flesh, and the next thing he remembered was waking up in the local hospital, well, the local 'safe' hospital. His family was there, as were his superiors as well as the great Leader of the ICF, General Thomas. He was going on about retribution, about revenge, and as Ben lifted his head to survey his surroundings he could see nearly thirty heavily injured members of the ICF, all of whom he recognised as members of the original ICF.
He knew what had happened, and even as he realised this he knew that now he would be unable to continue to serve the ICF, and he needed an escape. By coincidence he found an old recruiting leaflet for the Imperial Navy as he lay there, and he knew he had found his escape. His deep loyalties returned to the Empire as he invested as much time as he could in his studies for the entrance exam, and after a year, with himself fully physically healed, but his hand still badly scarred and the symbol a permanent reminder of that night, his studies completed and his commitments to the ICF gradually wound down he entered a recruiting centre and asked to sit the exam. He struggled through the exam and pushed himself hard to get as many marks as possible, and his work paid off. He passed with a mark of 93%, and was soon sent his first orders, to report to his local Spaceport for transport to the Academy, and so his adventures had begun, and his dream of escaping the world of violence and darkness he had become entrenched in was fulfilled.
As a side note, two days after Bens departure, two members of the ICF special forces killed several members of the Stormtrooper Corps on Coruscant, and two weeks later the Empire's finest moved into the region, killing all the members or former members of the ICF, ending the rise of a group that had finally gone too far, and which Ben had fortunately escaped.
