Jason Hunter

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Jason Hunter
Biographical Information
Homeworld:

Corellia

Date of Birth:

13 BBY

Date of Death:

Still Kickin'

Physical Description
Species:

Human

Gender:

Male

Height:

6' 3"

Weight:

250 lbs

Hair:

Black Naturally, Dyed Krath Purple

Eyes:

Blue

Personal Information
Lightsaber Color(s):

Single Yellow Blade

Chronology & Political Information
Affiliation:

House Tarentum

Dossier:

974

[ Source ]


Youth

Jason Hunter was born to loving parents in the suburbs of Coronet, the capital city of Corellia. Everything was in place for him to live a carefree life. All he would have had to do was grow up, get through school, marry a girl he loved, have his own kids, and die of old age. The kind of life that any parent desires for their child.

That was not to be his life.

Jason's mother died birthing him. He was never told exactly what had happened, but she just never stopped bleeding. The loss devastated his father. In the days following, he had turned to drinking. Never enough to become belligerent, but enough to be inattentive to a newborn.

After being home with his drunken father for a few weeks, Jason had a horrendous diaper rash, was under nourished and screaming all the time. A few concerned neighbors came by the house to see what was wrong, and upon seeing the condition of not just the house but the haggard shape that Jason's father was in, they felt it best that the state be involved. So, like meddling but well-meaning neighbors are want to do, they called Child Protective Services. CorSec and CPS came down in a hurry and whisked the infant away into foster care that same day. Jason's father got to spend a few weeks in jail, only because he had gotten lucky enough to be brought before a sympathetic judge.

As for Jason, he was put into foster care and eventually, due to the number of cases that were handled by that particular office and that it took his father a handful of years to get his act together, Jason was effectively lost in the system.

The family that he was placed into was nice enough. The husband and wife were the loving couple, but were always working to support the three children of their own and the modest home they lived in. They were the typical middle class working family, who only wanted another child after the mother medically lost her ability to reproduce, and Jason was that opportunity.

They took him in openly, and loved him as their own immediately. However, the entire family wasn't thrilled about the new arrival.

The New Family

The youngest of them was a daughter of five years, then a son of eight and another son on the verge of the teen years at twelve. The two sons were instantly jealous of the new arrival, and whenever their parents weren't around, made it their life's goal to make the infant suffer in some small way. Whether it was leaving him sit in a soiled diaper, or taking his bottle and teasing him with it...things cruel kids do. The young girl was the only nice one out of the whole trio: she was instantly enamored with Jason once he was brought into the home. She even got a crash course in taking care of him, as she took pity on him when her older brother was left to babysit and he wouldn't take care of him.

This kind of treatment went on unnoticed for a couple of years, as the siblings had a, "you tell mom and I'll kill you" agreement, until Jason started getting of the age that he was a little more independent. Then he was just a bigger target. That was when his toys, few though they were, started turning up broken and the boys claimed that Jason had done it out of a fit of rage. And there was the getting shoved around, random "dead legs" or "dead arms," stolen food, pulled hair, bruises and scrapes and all the fun things that come with being bullied.

All this cruel treatment from his "brothers" led Jason to being a quiet, reclusive little boy. Once he started into school, he didn't form any friendships. All the other kids there either ignored him or teased him for being weird because he was being quiet.

At the age of six, he was already contemplating murder. The rage that would serve him well as a Dark Jedi was being nurtured in that environment. Bottled-up, but nurtured. Every day that he woke up, he found a new reason to hate his foster family, or his school mates.

By the time he was in the second grade, his eldest brother was looking at graduating from high school. So that reduced the count of abusers by one, as he was more concerned with senior parties and girls, and getting drunk and stupid. But, with age, brought a new vocabulary, and the oldest son was always ready to test out new words and teenage phrases on the youth. They stung, as they were meant to. But Jason just took all those hurtful things and tucked them away in a place he had made in his heart. A place he had made for all the things that everyone said and did to him that made him angry and said and feel insignificant.

That pocket of rage and hatred turned his heart hard and cold. To the point that when, on the night his oldest brother died, he smiled the biggest smile of his life.

That First Taste of Power

It was on the night of Jason's eldest brother's graduation ceremony. The entire family was gathered and joyous. The newly-minted graduate was being showered with gifts and well wishes for the future. He was even to be accepted into a college elsewhere in the Empire.

Good for him.

The biggest gift, the one that made him the happiest of all was a speeder. It wasn't anything really new or really "cool," but it was a considerable improvement over the twenty-year old beater he drove in school. And that was what sent Jason over the edge. Seeing him so happy.

It wasn't that he was receiving presents and attention. He never cared about that. It was how completely pleased with himself he was. The Hutt slime didn't appreciate anything that was being given to him. He even treated the girlfriend that was hanging off his arm like a piece of trash. Even at seven years old, that angered Jason. He knew that a lesson needed to be taught to his "brother."

For the past year, he had been noticing a strange stirring within himself. Nothing to make anyone else aware of. Not that he told people much anyways. But he was starting to get an extrasensory perception of people and things around him, and tell when things were going to happen before they did. It wasn't always there, but it was special when it was. Nurturing his little powers were becoming his only solace from his everyday life. Once he even convinced a neighbors cat to walk into the path of an oncoming speeder just by thinking it. He hadn't tried doing it again, since the cat's death caused quite the commotion in the little neighborhood.

But now, he decided, was to do something proactive his little abilities.

Jason watched with his foster parents as his foster brother climbed into his new speeder with his girlfriend. Everyone was gathered at a local restaurant. It wasn't very popular, but they all seemed to enjoy the place. As everyone said their farewells, Jason noticed a large repulsor truck coming down the road. As the tormentor brother pulled out of the parking lot, Jason planted a thought in the truck driver's mind to become tired and veer into the smaller vehicle.

The accident killed both occupants. The girlfriend was collateral damage. The truck driver was fined and placed in prison for a few years. More collateral damage.

Jason got what he wanted from the deal.

Once his foster parents saw the large smile and joyful look on his face, they put him back into the state foster system the next day. They cited the trauma of losing their oldest son as their reasoning, but Jason knew the truth: they saw the look on his face, and they knew that he had done it. They didn't know how, or maybe they did...either way, it had frightened them, and they wanted him out of their house.

It made no difference to him. The group homes treated him the same as that "loving" family, only there were more of them. And it was a different school he was going to, so that was a change in scenery, too. It was about five years of that, before his father found him.

Teen Years

Reunion

Jason was almost a teenager when a case worker informed him that his father was looking for him. At first, he didn't care, wanting nothing to do with the man who would leave him in the care of the foster system. Then, curiosity prevailed, and a desire to be out of the system. He told the worker to arrange a meeting, and nothing further. He needed to figure out what his father wanted.

Within the week, he was seated across from his father in the lunch room of the group home. The older man had brought some trinket that he thought Jason might like, but he only gave it a glance and set it aside. His father told him that he wanted to bring him home, take him away from the foster homes that he had known his entire life. Provide him with stability and security. Family and happiness.

It all sounded good on the surface, but it rang hollow on the inside to the young Jason Hunter. None of those things he had known, so he didn't know what to expect from them. And, frankly, they frightened them. The only reason he agreed to live with the man was be freed of the state system, which had stifled him his whole short existence. Maybe getting out into the "real world" would be better.

The process to reclaim Jason took time. His father had to prove he had a stable and safe home, a good well-paying job and that he wasn't drinking anymore. Pretty much, be done with all the things that put Jason into foster care in the first place. He even had to submit to a psychological evaluation. The government turned his life upside-down and inside-out. But, that was their lawfully given right were children where involved.

After a month or so, Jason was finally in his new and presumably permanent home. It was comfortable enough, but the awkwardness of living with his father wasn't. His old foster family had never really spoke of how they came to be in possession of him, and he had never really asked. When he went back into the system, they seemed to make it their business to make sure he knew what had happened. Then each kid made it their business to rub it in.

As if they didn't have some story of messed up parents that led them to be there, too. Jason just ended up rubbing their faces in the pavement, and that just resulted in making him even more of an outsider. All the same to him.

His father had sold the house he had owned when Jason had been born years prior. The memories held there had been too much for him to handle at the time. Now the two of them lived in a modest home closer to the city and closer to his job at a warehouse. Jason was due to start middle school soon, so the two of them took the remainder of what was the summer break to spend some father-son time together.

At first, it was very awkward as they both got used to each other and their tendencies. Jason remained quiet as usual, with his father trying to break him out of his shell by taking him camping and on day-long speeder trips to other towns and cities. Things that families did in the weekends, at least in the holos. Nothing that Jason had experienced in his life.

School Days

Starting middle school was not much of a change of pace for Jason. New school, new people, new schedule. At least most of the people didn't know him, so the teasing and harassment was kept to a minimum.

It didn't take him long to fall into the wrong group of kids, however. He naturally attracted the hoodlums and scofflaws of the school. In short order, his already poor grades faded into near non existence. Skipping class became second nature in a few short weeks, and by the middle part of the year he was on the principal's truancy watch list. His father tried as best he could to keep him in line, but Jason was quickly becoming uncontrollable. The rebellious teenager was rearing its' head with ferocity as he would take off in the middle of the night to hang with his little gang and cause random acts of minor property damage. They wouldn't do anything major, nothing that would rank high on CorSec's list; just tagging buildings with spray paint, knocking mirrors off parked speeders. Things that made them feel better about themselves.

Every so often they would get into a fist fight with another rival "gang," if you could call a group of young teens such a thing. Some of them would occasionally end up needing medical care, but it they'd show up to school the next day with a black eye or a missing tooth.

However, Jason never felt satisfied with the vandalism. What got him going was knocking an adversary to the ground, and feeling their blood on his hands. There was many a night that he would come home in the early morning to find his father still awake and waiting on him. The verbal sparing matches got Jason's blood pressure up, but not in the same way that a physical altercation did. The fights always started the same: what are you doing out so late, I was worried about you, where were you, were you drinking, doing drugs, I thought you were dead...then he would see the blood and the satisfied look on Jason's face. Then the tone would change. No more parental anger. Just concern for his son's mental state.

He tried to get Jason counseling, but the boy wouldn't say anything. He had learned enough in the group home to think his way around the counselor's questions and direct them another way. It was a handy skill he had picked up.

And so things went. His father slowly decided that maybe the best way to help Jason, was to not help him. Let him find his own way. Provide him a little bit of a moral compass at home, but don't try to throttle him in any one direction. He was proving too strong-willed for such treatment. Once he loosened the leash, their relationship improved some. Jason was even beginning to develop some form of begrudging respect for the man who ground out an existence as a working stiff and want-to-be family man.

At least this one was trying.

Things continued that way for a couple more years. The house had settled into a routine, and neither male gave the other much guff unless it was needed. Jason had collected himself a gathering of confidants, a collective of riffraff. None that he could truly call friends, but something close to it. Between that and the evening-out of things at home, he was beginning to calm down and not be so wild. See the worth in things. His rage was abating, but always there. He wouldn't fly off the handle at little things as readily nor get into the meaningless, petty brawls that marked his early teenage years. As he grew closer to being a legal adult, he was finally starting to grow up and take responsibility for himself and see the error of his past actions.

Everything was falling into place, until one fateful night. The night that his father, the last remaining member of his known family, was taken from him.

A New Low

It started as every other evening did. Jason was home from school, and his father was heading out the door for work. He was the foreman at the warehouse now, and it was time for inventory. He was working the late shift that night to make sure everything was done, and done right before all the big-wigs came in the next morning. Jason was sitting in front of the holoprojector, watching some trashy holodrama about the Jedi-propoganda mostly, put out by the Empire-and not really paying any attention.

By the time the drama had ended, Jason was asleep in the chair, an almost empty bottle of Corellian ale in his hand and teetering dangerously on the verge of dispensing the remainder of its' contents on the floor. Something roused him from his slumber as the channel suddenly switched to a news feed of a downtown warehouse, a corner at the far end from the camera engulfed in flames.

Jason had to rub sleep from his eyes before he realized that it was the same building in which his father was employed. Sitting up straight and feeling a strange sense of concern that he hadn't experienced before, he was riveted to the projection as new video came in of stormtroopers firing their blasters at what appeared to be fleeing Rebels, who piled into a waiting speeder and made a daring if not predictable get-away. The text at the bottom of the screen was saying things like, "Shootout at Local Warehouse," and "Multiple Dead in Cowardly Rebel Attack."

Two things happened at once.

First, Jason inexplicably knew that his father was dead. He couldn't explain how he knew that, but he did. It was like the knowledge came to him on the wind and imbedded itself unshakably in the deepest recesses of his brain. Second, a wave of anger a despair washed out him the likes of which he had never known before. Anger at the Rebels who had ripped the only person who had shown an inkling of actually caring about him from his life, an act that he vowed he would make them pay for. And despair at the loss of his father. Despair so deep that no tears came forth. Just a quiet, anguished moan from an open mouth as what he would later learn was the Force slammed home the knowing his father's demise.

Jason fell to his knees and elbows, riding that wave of emotion that he never felt before. It went on until he was curled up into the fetal position, passed out on the floor. The next day, he awoke in a funk and didn't eat or leave the house. He remained that way for a week or so, just staying in the house and sulking. Every few days, one of the neighbors would stop by to check on him, but he just sent them away to be left alone.

It took him that long to come to terms with what had happened and what he had to do. He packed up what he needed into a duffel, and left his father's house for what he thought would be the last time.

He made his way towards Coronet's spaceport. There he planned to hop aboard an outbound ship of any sort, heading any direction, and start a new life elsewhere in the galaxy. Corellia held little for him any longer, not that it had in the first place.

At the port, he found a transport ship heading for the Outer Rim. He located the ship's captain, and convinced him to take him on as a new deck hand. A few hours later, the ship was lifting off the surface of the planet and heading into the void of space for parts unknown to Jason, and a new life.

Life Abroad, and The Empire

Jason spent the first months of his time on that freighter as little more than a peon. The crew saw him as just another drifter that their captain took pity on, and they always gave him the dirtiest jobs they could. He was tasks with cleaning bilges, heads, service passages, spills in the mess hall, personal items that got trashed after a hard night's partying. They were a hard lot, or so they thought. Jason knew that there were few aboard that, in a physical altercation, could stand against him but he never tested that. He didn't want to get dumped on some backwater world that he hadn't heard of before, and have to find passage to the next planet and risk getting stuck wherever they decided to dump him.

And thus, he just kept his head down and did as he was told. After time, they came to trust him and even like him. As always there was the one or two aboard that never came around and seemed hell bent on giving him the hardest time they could. He would simply ignore them to the best of him ability, satisfied in the knowledge that he was somehow better than they were. Why not? If they had to pick on him, they must be deficient in something.

After nearly a year of hauling shipments of various goods around the Empire, with the occasional "friendly" search by a contingent of Imperial stormtroopers at the odd spaceport, Jason decided it was time that he move on. After seeing Star Destroyers and TIE Fighters at their ports, and the efficiency with which they had been searched, he knew that he needed to join the Empire. That was how he was to get back at the Rebellion for taking his father from him.

But it wasn't long after he came to that decision that word of the destruction of the Second Death Star at Endor reached them via the HoloNet. The captain kept it constantly running in the background on the bridge to keep himself appraised of what was happening in the galaxy around them. Once Jason heard the news, he knew the Empire would soon be thrown into disarray as the Emperor was aboard the Death Star, and he couldn't see it holding together without its' head.

He spent another few months with that ship. He convinced the captain to let him go out to the cantinas when they would get to port. He was of age in many of the Outer Rim worlds, but he wasn't going to drink. He was seeking information from the locals and the Imperials that were still either garrisoned there or just passing through.

Jason followed those cantina rumors and stories. He was told of a secret arm of the Imperial military that existed out in what was known as the Aurora System as the Emperor's Hammer Strike Fleet.