Bonded

Chapter 12: Imagine

"The negotiation..." Sykes swallows. "Did not go through as planned. Our terms were rejected"

Lenid looks to the Supreme Leader, a sick feeling in his gut...

Kylo Ren turns his head slowly.

"And what about our terms was unacceptable?" His distorted voice is even, but there's a tightness to it.

"Well." Sykes takes a breath. "It's a bit—"

"Was it the money?"

"No." Sykes shakes his head.

"Was it the timeline?"

"No." The older man gulps.

"Was it the oversight?"

"It actually wasn't really any of the terms per se..." Sykes hesitates. "It was more of a concern, er, an impression rather, that perhaps... perhaps we wouldn't honor the terms."

Kylo Ren turns his head to the port.

"Go on." The distortion of the mask deepens. The leather of his gloves twists as he tightens his hands behind his back.

Sykes finally glances at Lenid, but the look is the last thing from reassuring. There's a warning in his eyes and the undertone of apology.

Lenid's stomach drops. Now he really feels sick...

"A..." Sykes chooses his next words carefully. "Not insignificant portion of the committee expressed doubts based on..." He tenses, bracing himself. "Garos."

In an instant, every chair in the room flies to the front wall, several crashing into the officers, knocking them to their backs.

"GET OUT!"

The men scramble up, shocked and bruised. Sykes races to the exit, but Lenid freezes, gaping at the Supreme Leaders as he manically paces the back of the room.

"NOW!" Kylo Ren rages towards him.

Lenid nearly trips over himself in a mad dash to the door, scrambling out just before it whirs shut.

Kylo Ren grits his teeth, fists clenched by his sides. He starts pacing beside the table, back and forth.

Garos. Garos. Garos.

He repeats the word angrily in his mind.

Garos. Garos. GAROS.

His blood is on fire, exploding through his veins like a river of flame.

If he has to hear about Garos and Hux's idiocy one more time—

Without thinking, he ignites his lightsaber and cleaves the table beside him in two. The sides fall back from each other, creating an open path.

Kylo Ren charges through and begins slashing at the console built into the wall, red sparks flying in fiery bursts. He rips and rends, again and again and again, until the screens before him, once alive with data, are nothing but twisted hunks of metal.

With each stroke, his anger magnifies, doubling, tripling, until he's pure rage, no longer flesh and blood but a combustion of fiery energy infinitely consuming everything in its path.

Finally, he stops, switching off his saber and gasping for breath. He still trembles with rage, fists clenched tightly, face dripping with sweat inside his mask. He almost ignites the saber for another round but his thumb freezes over the switch.