Hello, faithful readers! D-Wyrm here and back in business with a new story, combining two fan favourites, Star Wars Rebels and the Titanfall franchise! Let's get this out of the way, though, shall we? I own nothing! Except the OC's.

NAME: Samuel Enrique Reyes

OCCUPATION: Pilot

RANK: Private

AFFILIATION: Frontier Militia, Marauder Corps

GENDER: Male

RACE: Mestizo

AGE: 18

HAIR: Faded Raven Crew cut

EYES: Honey brown

SKIN: Olive

ARMOR: Assault variant (think Jack Cooper, but olive green instead of red)

TITAN: Legion Prime (WARPAINT: Gun Hazard) DT-1138

Anyway, on with the story!

"Freedom is the right of all sentient beings." – Optimus Prime

MacAllan-Class Carrier MCS Columbus, Two years after The Battle of Typhon

Crap. That's one way to describe the feeling of waking up on a warship, the half-dead sensation of being forced out of sleep by the loud snoring of one of his bunkmates. And to think, now rising slowly and groggily from the his bunk, he was hoping to sleep in at least five more minutes.

After sitting upright and wiping the rheum from his eyes, the young man, now revealed to be of Mestizo descent, continued to stare at the dull grey metallic floor underneath his bare feet, the distant hum of the drive-core giving of a faint vibration to the his soles.

Within a few more seconds, he slowly stood up and walked patiently to the storage lockers at the far end of the room. After entering the passcode to one of the talk, rectangular lockers, he reached his arm in in only to pick up two things: a silver, hand-sized flask that looked to have seen better days, and a small ball chain that, at first glance; wouldn't seem to be anything special, aside from the battered metal tag that lightly jingled from the movement.

He glance at the tag that he held onto briefly and proceeded to open the flask and took quick, small shot from it, his head rearing back in the process.

*cough* *cough* "Fuck!"

Well, at least he was more awake now, his previous drowsiness all but forgotten on account of his slightly burning throat. Sometimes, he even wondered what was going to kill him first, the IMC or his Dad's pick-me-up recipes. He tried doing coffee, but with the real-deal being in short supply and that bland artificial crap that they serve in the mess hall, he decided to take his chances. Plus the flask and recipes themselves happen to be keepsakes.

After the burning had calmed down, he took another but longer glance at the ball chain necklace and took a closer look at the ID tag that swayed in his thumb and index finger. Upon looking more closely at it, faint, worn writing can bee seen on it.

"REYES, JORGE, CAPT. PILOT, MARAUDER CORPS.

Honey brown eyes closed is sad remembrance. Demeter may have been a turning point for the Militia, but the cost was high. Suffice to say, very few people were left the same after that battle, himself included.

"Descansa tranquilo, papá."

So after a moment of sadness, Sam Reyes decided enough was enough and decided to head to the shower room before the rest his other bunkmates, who were already starting to stir themselves awake at sound of the wake-up call over the intercom. To Sam, most of these men were guys he never knew and was likely never going to know, but there were exceptions on this carrier ship, people he would almost go as far as to call them acquaintances, if not friends.

Sam sighed to himself quietly. "Just another day in the Corps" her thought neutrally.

Voila! I know this chapter is short, but bear with me here. The next chapter is gonna be more longer, I promise. This is just a "taster", so to speak. Please review if I'm doing good! Ciao for now! ;)