Rebels

Gerard was raised on the dusty planet of Al'Moab III, the third planet in the Al'Moab system. He had never left the planet. He worked on his family's mining business, and in his spare time he sketched drawings of the rare travellers coming to trade with the other miners.

His planet was a desert one. It was hot and the sun was almost always blazing down at you. Gerard tanned easily, but his skin was still fair from working so hard in the mines. When he went outside, he protected his skin by donning a thick scarf over his head. It was brown and rough, but it slumped over his shoulders and shaded his face. It matched he rest of his drab wardrobe. Brows, whites, and light greys. The color of the desert.

Sitting in in the shade of a tent propped up in the busiest part of town, he uncovered his old sketching book. It was filled with doodles and sketches. Clouds of dust moved when he flipped it open to a relatively clean page. It was his rare day off and he meant to spend it in the traders market. Though it was technically the busiest part of the area, it was never as busy as other cities. Barely anyone lived on the desert planet. Gerard could see why. When he looked around, everything wa a dusty wasteland.

His is hazel eyes fell on a staggering figure walking his way. Not a local. He wore no veil around his shoulders to keep the sun off. His face was red and painful. Gerard winced. When the man stopped in front of him, he looked up in confusion and curiously.

"May I help you?" Gerard wondered.

"Yes, maybe you can. Do you know of anyone practically good with ships? Mine is broken and I appear to be stranded." The man was tall and dark haired. It was cropped short. His long brown robe was soft looking and flowing. His sleeves were bellowing behind him and he walked. His trousers were baggy and black , and he wore knee high leather boots. There was a glint of metal at his waist. He hid in suspiciously in the folds of his sleeves and he turned.

"Yes, my father. He lives nearby." Gerard hummed, and stood up. He gripped his book still, not caring to put it away again. the man followed him tiredly. Not a local at all.

"How old are you, boy?" He wondered. Gerard looked up and answered him.

"Five, sir," he replied. He adjusted the wrap around his head.

"What's your name?" The man asked again.

"Gerard Way. I am a miner," he added.

"It appears every one is. Nobody id a mechanic Around here. Unfortunate to be someone in my position," he remarked. "My name is Clarik by the way. Clarik Bundee. I am a Jedi Knight from Corruscant."

"Jedi? What's a Jedi?" Gerard wondered. The man frowned in thought. He looked for an easy way to explain it to the younger boy.

"We are peacekeepers for the Galaxy. We hunt evil. We train to hone our abilities and become one with the Force. The Firce is an otherworldly power that controls and binds everything in the universe. if controlled properly, it is the greatest tool a man can use."

Gerard thought about it. It sure seemed like a big responsibility. He had never heard of Jedi Knights. He assumed they were a new thing. He would have to ask his father about it when he got home.

"This is my house," he motioned towards a small dirt shack off a side road. The Jedi made a face of interest, then ducked in the low archway leading into the main room. Gerard followed, and called to his parents.

The hiuse, from the outside, seemed small. Barely the size of a large room. It had a very small living space, and a side room with four cots. One of each of his parents, and him and his brother, Mikeh. However, in the tinier room across the living room, there was a steep staircase. Tunneling infinitely downward was the mine, and that's where most of the larger rooms were. Including his father's lab, where he worked on most of his wiring and robotics projects.

"Come with me," Gerard ordered, and he trotted down the narrow stretch of stairs. "My father is in the mechanics room."

Notes

Starting it over!! I'm looking at it from a new angle now. Taking more time to get the back stories right