Rán dropped soundlessly into the alley, her boots making no sound on the packed dirt as she watched the scene playing out in front of her, an impromptu execution, or at least it would turn into one very soon.
“There is no death, there is only the Force-”
“Jedi scum,” the Stormtrooper snapped, his rifle butt cracking across the back of the kneeling Pantoran’s head, “There is no Force.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Rán said finally, her voice dripping ice, a snarl on her lips as she pressed the muzzle of her blaster to the base of his neck, between helmet and backplate, “But there’s still me .” She pulled the trigger and watched his body fall. When the Pantoran looked up, she pressed a finger to her lips and gestured them out of the alley.
She didn’t know if the Force still existed, if it ever really had. Even if it did, it didn’t care for justice or freedom or any of the beings scattered among the stars. That’s why it was up to her , and the Rebellion she fought with, to save the galaxy. It was her duty to fight for people ; the forgotten, the abandoned, the ones crushed beneath the boots of the Empire.
The Force, if it existed, wasn’t going to save them.
She, and those like her, willing to step up and fight, they could.