[quote]Disclaimer: Aside from my self insert Jake Torres and other original characters, I do not own Star Wars and it's other Intellectual Properties, although I wish I do but I don't.[/quote]

"A story of an adventure of Jake Torres, my unwilling victi-, ahem, volunteer to see what kind of ripples in the pond he is going to make"

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The glow from the TV flickered across the room as the credits of Avengers: End Game rolled by. I stretched out on the couch, my mind still buzzing with Tony Stark's genius. The way he built those suits, the engineering prowess, the sheer creativity—it all seemed so effortless. I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

"I wish I was a tech savant like Tony Stark," I said aloud with a chuckle. "Then homework would be a breeze."

With a yawn, I stood up and headed to my bedroom. The weight of exhaustion was setting in, and all I could think about was crawling into my bed and getting some sleep.

"Better get to sleep," I mumbled, already half-asleep as I collapsed onto my mattress. "Lots of stuff to do tomorrow."

Little did I know, my wish was about to come true in a way I never expected.

I woke up with a start, my back pressed against something hard and rough. I blinked rapidly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't even in my room. Instead, I was lying on the ground, surrounded by sand.

I shot up to my feet, heart pounding, as I took in my surroundings. Sand dunes stretched out before me, and behind me was a small farm with strange equipment scattered around—a mix of machinery that looked old and rusted but somehow functional.

"Where the heck am I?!" I blurted out, my voice trembling. My mind was racing. This wasn't my room, my house, or even my neighborhood. Panic started to grip me as I looked around desperately, hoping for some kind of sign that this was all just a bizarre dream.

I spun around to face the farm equipment behind me. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen—large machines with pipes, vents, and panels that didn't look quite right for anything back on Earth. Yet, as I stared at them, something strange happened. Ideas and knowledge started popping into my head, like whispers in the back of my mind.

I didn't know how or why, but I suddenly understood how these machines worked. I could see how to fix them, how to optimize their energy efficiency, even how to improve their output. I had no idea where this knowledge was coming from, but it was there, clear as day, like I'd always known it.

"What is happening to me?" I muttered, clutching my head. This didn't make any sense. I was no engineer, and yet now, I could practically blueprint these things in my head. But this wasn't what I'd wished for, was it? I just wanted to be like Tony Stark for my homework, not wake up in a desert with farming tech in my brain!

I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Okay, okay, think, Jake," I whispered to myself. "This has to be a dream, right? Or maybe I'm sleepwalking. Yeah, that's it. I wandered off in my sleep and ended up in… in…"

I stopped, realizing that didn't make any sense. Sleepwalking to where, exactly? The Sahara Desert? And what were these machines doing here? They looked too advanced to be Earth tech, yet old enough to be from some forgotten era.

Then it hit me—maybe I'd stumbled onto some kind of experimental farm. Maybe this was all some high-tech project hidden in the desert that I didn't know about. That had to be it, right? I started to relax a little, convincing myself that I'd find some logical explanation for all of this.

But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong. The knowledge in my head wasn't just random; it was specific, precise, like I'd suddenly been gifted the brain of a tech genius. And the weird part was, it felt natural, like I was meant to know these things.

Still trying to make sense of it all, I focused on one of the machines—a tall, cylindrical device with a series of tubes and vents on its side. Without even thinking about it, I reached out and started fiddling with one of the panels. My hands moved on their own, like they had a mind of their own, instinctively knowing which wires to tweak and which buttons to press.

Before I knew it, the machine hummed to life, its old gears turning smoothly. I stepped back, stunned by what I'd just done. I'd repaired it. Not only that, I'd improved its efficiency without even knowing how I was doing it.

"What the… How did I do that?" I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief.

I took a step back, my eyes darting around the landscape. This didn't look like any desert I'd seen on Earth, but I was still too panicked to notice the bigger details. I hadn't even realized that I hadn't looked up at the sky to see the two suns that might've given the game away.

"Calm down, Jake," I told myself, trying to keep my voice steady. "You need to figure out where you are and what's going on. There has to be a logical explanation for all of this."

Just then, a noise from behind me made me jump. I turned around, expecting to see something or someone, but all I found was more sand and the eerie quiet of the desert. I hadn't noticed any people, animals, or even birds. Just…stillness.

"This can't be real," I muttered, starting to pace back and forth. "I have to be dreaming. Or maybe I'm in some kind of simulation?"

I hesitated, then turned my gaze upward, squinting at the sky. Wait, could this be—?

I finally noticed it. There, in the sky, was the most unmissable clue of all: two suns, both shining down on me from different angles.

My breath caught in my throat. "No way," I whispered, feeling the ground tilt beneath me. "No freaking way!"

The realization hit me like a car crash. I wasn't on Earth. I was on a planet with two suns. I was on Tatooine, Probably on Tatooine, I don't know many places with two suns!

I staggered back, staring up at those suns like they were mocking me. My voice filled with disbelief as I whispered to myself, "I really wish this is a dream."

The panic I'd been holding back surged forward, and I felt like I might actually lose it. The reality of the situation was crashing down on me, and all I could do was hope, desperately, that I'd wake up back in my bed on Earth.

My breathing was shallow, and my hands were trembling. The possibility of being on Tatooine—or at least somewhere that looked like Tatooine—had me spiraling into a mild panic attack that lasted for what felt like an eternity. Ten, maybe twenty minutes of pacing, hyperventilating, and muttering to myself as I desperately tried to make sense of everything.

I couldn't calm my thoughts, which kept racing in circles, bouncing from "How did I get here?" to "What is even happening right now?" My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, and I kept looking around, half-expecting someone to pop out of the sand and tell me it was all a joke.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

After a while, when the initial rush of panic finally started to ebb, my mind drifted to a strangely trivial thought. How long have I even been freaking out? I wondered. Is telling time the same here? Do they have twenty-four hours in a day? Or is there some weird galactic standard time that I've never heard of?

I shook my head, mentally chastising myself. Focus, Jake! Not the time to worry about space clocks. I knew I was distracting myself with these thoughts because it was easier than dealing with the reality in front of me.

Instead, I asked myself the hard question: How do I prove that this isn't just some crazy drug-induced hallucination? My scientific brain kicked in automatically, even in the midst of my fear and confusion. I couldn't help it—I was wired to rationalize, to dissect and make sense of things, even if they were impossible.

I let out a hollow laugh, muttering to myself, "Yay, scientific method," with a sarcastic undertone. There was a twisted comfort in treating this like a problem to solve. At least it was better than losing my mind completely.

Then it hit me. The most obvious test in the world, the one they do in all the movies and TV shows: the good old pinch-yourself routine. Why didn't I think of that sooner?

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. "Alright, Jake," I said aloud. "Time to find out if this is real."

I pinched my arm, lightly at first. Nothing. Just a small, sharp sting. Then I pinched harder, leaving a red mark. Still nothing—no sudden wake-up in my bedroom, no TV flickering in the background, no Iron Man marathon to welcome me back to reality.

My brow furrowed, and I went all in, squeezing my skin until it hurt like hell. "Ow!" I yelped, shaking my hand out to dull the pain. But I was still here, standing in the middle of a desert farm with weird machinery and two suns staring down at me.

My shoulders slumped, and I stared down at my hand, which was starting to show bruises. A shaky sigh escaped my lips, and I muttered, almost in resignation, "Time to stop running from the truth."

I wasn't sure if this was really Tatooine, but it was the only planet I knew of that had two suns. It was the best guess my mind could come up with, even if it felt like grasping at straws. I mean, how many places could there be with two suns?

Regardless, the facts were starting to settle in. Wherever I was, it wasn't Earth. This wasn't a dream, and it wasn't a hallucination. Somehow, I had actually been transported to a place that felt like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. And the kicker? I had Tony Stark's engineering knowledge in my head, yet not a single piece of his tech to work with.

I looked back at the farm equipment I'd been messing with, the gears turning in my mind as I tried to process everything. The reality was setting in, and while my brain screamed that it was impossible, the facts were staring me in the face. I needed to stop denying what was right in front of me.

This was real, and it was time to face whatever came next.

I was still reeling from the revelation that I might actually be on Tatooine when a voice suddenly called out behind me.

"Hey! You there!" the voice shouted, with a thick accent that sounded oddly familiar—like something straight out of a Star Wars movie.

I jumped and whirled around, my heart racing again. For a moment, I'd been so caught up in my own head that I hadn't even considered the possibility of someone else being nearby. But in hindsight, of course, there had to be someone here. There was farming equipment, and farms don't tend to operate themselves. So, of course, there would be a farmer.

Wait a minute, I thought, my eyes narrowing slightly. How did I even know it was farming equipment in the first place?

There, standing a few feet away from me, was a man with a weathered face, dressed in what looked like rough work clothes that had seen better days. He had a tan complexion, lines etched deep into his skin from years of exposure to the twin suns, and a no-nonsense look about him. He seemed to be staring at me, his brow furrowed in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

The man was asking me a question—one that, much to my surprise and relief, was being asked in English! Hooray! I don't need a universal translator or have to mime my way through this conversation! I thought, almost grinning at the absurdity of finding this small victory in the middle of my existential crisis.

I felt a bit embarrassed, though, as I realized I hadn't quite caught what he said in my initial surprise. "Um, sorry, could you repeat that?" I asked, giving him a sheepish smile.

He didn't look too amused, but he obliged. In that unmistakable Tatooine accent, he repeated his question, "Who are you, and what are you doing on my farm?"

Well, that's a straightforward question, I thought to myself. As simple as it sounded, though, I had no idea how to answer it. My mind raced through the possible responses. Should I tell him the truth? That I somehow woke up on Tatooine—at least I think it's Tatooine—with Tony Stark's genius knowledge in my head?

Something in my gut twisted at the idea of being completely honest. There was a nagging feeling deep down, like an instinct, warning me against telling the whole truth. Why, though? I wondered. What could be so wrong about being honest?

Or do I go with a made-up backstory? Something that sounds more believable than 'I'm from another galaxy and used to watch this place on TV'?

After a very quick internal debate—a couple of seconds at most—I decided to go with a mix of both. Half-truths seemed like the safest route. I needed to keep some cards close to my chest until I understood more about my situation and the people here.

Taking a deep breath, I looked the farmer in the eyes and said, "I—I honestly don't know how I got here. I just woke up in the desert a little while ago, with nothing but the clothes on my back." I glanced down at my attire, realizing how ridiculous it probably looked in this setting. "And, uh, these pajamas."

The farmer's skeptical gaze softened just a little, but he still looked wary. I couldn't blame him; I probably looked like a crazy person who wandered in from the dunes.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hello Star Wars fans, this is a fanfiction I wrote originally only posted on SpaceBattles, I am posting my fanfic here for mutiple reasons. One is to make a back-up of my content and the other is to reach out to new readers of my creative writings. My post will be gradual since I still have to look after my 5 year old menace, Thank you for taking the time to read.

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