Such Kylo Trash

Strange Comfort

It had been quite some time since last you had found yourself lying in the middle of the floor while everyone moved around you. In another respect, this was much different than those previous occurrences. Kylo Ren was standing across the hall, his back against the wall and arms crossed over his chest while he watched you. Gauging your reaction to the mission you had completed. Your first assassination; it had been much different than what you had originally believed.

The man had been supplying faulty equipment—he should have died. You could have killed him easily without a second thought. He placed your comrades in harm's way, after all. But no. The First Order wanted it known what it was to mess with them, to attempt so bold an indiscretion.

Disguised as a random technician, you had accompanied Lieutenant Mitaka on-planet. It was there that the pair of you temporarily split up; prior to leaving the Finalizer, you had been told the full details of your mission. It was not the man himself that would be killed. No, death would be too quick. Too merciful. And General Hux was not merciful; those who refused to bow to the First Order, who attempted to disgrace it, would recognize their mistake. He had a family.

Getting into the household had been a simple task. You had been taught well how to break in without leaving evidence. How to kill while making it appear to be of natural causes that the individual had perished. It was not as though these facts bothered you either. You just hadn't expected there to be children.

"He knows why they died, and that is all that matters," Kylo Ren said, interrupting your trip down memory lane. The deaths could not be publicly attributed to the First Order in a manner that would cause the Resistance to come to their aid; because, if it was revealed why the First Order had made things appear accidental and natural, it would also be revealed that the man was a supplier for the First Order. He would be killed as well. No mercy. No way to get revenge for the death of his family.

"I hadn't run through a simulation where I had to kill a child, sir," you said, running a hand along your forehead. You considered his masked face for half a beat then turned back to the ceiling. You felt like shit in some respects. Like trash. Who the hell killed children like that?

"Due to him purposely supplying faulty equipment, at least twelve dozen deaths and injuries can be attributed to him." So many comrades. So many people dying for nothing; they would willingly die in battle. But to be given faulty equipment like that? When they were risking their lives to better the galaxy for the man who had supplied them with the very instrument of their downfall?

"But I don't see why I couldn't just kill him," you said. You felt numb when you spoke of the man. Indifferent when you remembered the way you had murdered his wife. But sick to your stomach at the memories of killing those two children. Younglings. One of them hardly—

"Are you falling into a depressive state?"

"I think so, sir." Part of your training revolved around you being able to identify certain things with yourself. Triggers. The on-stirrings of depression. But what confused you was the way you were trained to avoid compromising yourself.

You could be allowed to fall into a minor depressive state. Lying down in a corridor. Throwing yourself away was out of the question; that was a bit too far, General Hux had stated simultaneous to giving you a tooke to feed to Liu Ren. There were other methods to get through your depression. Rigorous training; things to release adrenaline or endorphins. You did not feel like eating, although chocolate would supposedly better your mood.

And it felt wrong. You should feel so fucking disgusted with yourself—but somehow you didn't. Your eyes slid to Kylo Ren. It was so wrong. You had murdered innocents, and here you wanted to ride his dick for comfort.