TOY SOLDIER [IX] ▸ Poe Dameron

CHAPTER THREE [III]

I AWOKE WITH MY HANDS TIED ABOVE MY HEAD IN SHACKLES. MY WRISTS WERE SORE WITH THE LINGERING PAIN AND THE EVER-PRESENT TUG ON MY BATTERED DOWN SKIN. My head was lull, feeling too heavy to support, but I forced my eyes to open anyway. I had to stay alert. I surveyed my surroundings like any good soldier would.

I still saw crystals lining the walls. It was a tinier room, the floor was metal and there were bars guarding the only exit. I had been imprisoned.

I heard a whistle and an irritated beep to the left side of me below.

"BB-8," The corners of my lips jerked up to form a lopsided, exhausted smile. "There's no one I'd rather be stunned and abducted with." My metal friend beeped in fondness and appreciation. "Who was that anyway, could you tell? Must be a bad run in with one of those foul Royal family members of the Kingdom Poyter. Leia told me about their fall to disgrace."

BB-8 beeped yet again, this time it felt like a shrug. When I looked back, I yet again found myself looking down the barrel of a blaster.

"Who are you calling a goddamn disgrace?" A flighty voice piped, presumably the one brandishing a weapon in my face. The blaster was shaking. The hand holding it was shaking. I tore my focus away from the weapon positioned at me and calmly peered my head around to see a very fiery, impassioned set of dark brown eyes. They looked almost familiar, the fire blazing beneath the glaze. They met mine and the girl yelped, "Hey! Don't fucking do that!" and positioned the gun back onto my face.

"Can you stop doing that?" There was a tinge of annoyance in my voice as I moved my head yet again to look at her. "We haven't even met, and it's a little rude to keep shoving your blaster in my face."

"I don't need to meet you," She scowled, fixing the gun's position on my forehead. "I have all the information I need to know."

"Oh yeah, and what's that, sweetheart?"

Her dark skin turned scarlet. "How did you find this place?" She demanded, wiggling the gun a bit when I didn't answer at first. "I'll shoot," She told me, but somehow I didn't take her seriously.

I deflected a bit of a laugh. "I'm sure you will,"

Her eyebrow knit and steeled. "I shot before."

I looked up at the chains. "Yeah, I suppose you did." I sighed. "If you really want to know, it was completely on accident. I sat on a random rock and didn't really expect it to open a secret cave passageway. You know, as a normal person would think."

Her feisty expression didn't falter. She nudged the gun closer. My eyes widened slightly but soon hardened to a coolly defiant gaze as the metal touched my skin. "Why did you try and snap the crystal? They aren't souvenirs, you stupid flyboy. I caught both you and your snippy little wrench-jockey trying to selfishly pocket some for your own. Have you never heard of saving the fucking environment? Those crystals are worth more than both of you put together."

"...Wrench-jockey?" I repeated after a stunned moment. I looked at BB-8. "Sweetheart, call me a flyboy all you want, it's not anything new to me, but 'wrench-jockey?' Quit it with the creative insults and the smart-ass potty mouth, do you know who you're talking to?"

Her grip on the gun was growing more and more unstable as each calm word I uttered broke her conviction. It was like this girl had never dealt with any hands-on battle training before in her life. But she was young, I noted, in the way her delicate fingertips curled around the trigger. They looked soft, untrained, and nervous.

"Someone certainly thinks a lot of themselves. Tell me then," She blurted, "since you feel the need for me to know."

I shifted uncomfortably in the chains, my arm muscles growing stiff. "I'd show you," I mumbled, "but I'm afraid my hands are quite tied up at the moment... literally."

"Do you think I'm damn stupid?"

"What?! No."

She considered me for a long moment.

"Good, because I'm not." Her brown doe eyes rolled as she crossed her arms firmly. "You just want to be untied so you can kill me and escape."

"I wouldn't do you any harm," I informed. "You've been a real pain in the ass, but I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. Here, tell you what, reach into the lining of my jacket."

She considered me for a moment, looking quite like a confused puppy, before tentatively reaching out. Her fingers met my faded pilot gear and slowly folded the fabric over, revealing the hidden patch: The symbol of the Resistance.