Bonded

Chapter 33: Monsters

Kylo slows as the he gets closer. He vaguely recognizes the man. Maybe from one of his visits to the lower ranks...?

Kylo studies the janitor as he approaches, the man glancing up when he's a few feet away. That's when it hits, where he's seen him before.

Kylo slows to a stop, lifting his hands to unlick his mask and bring it overhead.

The man halts, dropping his hands from the hoverlift and snapping to attention.

Kylo tucks the mask in the crook of his arm. "You..." He points at the janitor. "Tried out to be one of my cadets."

The man nods.

That's right. Kylo remembers now, the skinny one with a knack for evasion and nasty with a vibro-axe. He didn't make the final cut, but he certainly left an impression...

Kylo eyes him coolly. "General Petrov's putting together his own unit now, just like mine, did you know that?"

The man stares, not sure what to say.

"Tryouts are at the end of the week." He dips his chin. "You're going, aren't you?"

"I-I..." The man stumbles.

"You should. He'll need someone like you, someone who can dodge as well as he attacks."

The janitor gapes.

"Go." Kylo leans in. "Show him what you can do with an axe." He squints with a glimmer, then moves on, quickly resuming his signature stride. He doesn't look back, but he can feel the man's eyes on him, sense his emotions, a mixture of pride and shock.

A smile teases Kylo's lips.

He doesn't regret it, taking on the training unit as his own, transforming them into his cadets. How could he? Not after they put half of Hux's cadets to shame.

Kylo smirks.

No, they're much too good just to be a training unit. They've also demonstrated something important, something the people in this organization needed to see. The leadership has always been so intent that their martial forces be programmed from birth, raised and trained under the auspices of the First Order. But does that really produce the best soldiers? Or just the best automatons, men who never question, never innovate, only follow orders?

It's something to consider. Kylo can't do much now without Hux pitching a fit, but with Petrov creating his own unit of untrained brawlers from the lower ranks, the seed has been planted. And in time, it will grow... For now, he'll just focus on training his own men, a case study of sorts. It's felt good to build something new, something different. There's no way his cadets can know it, but his approach to training them is highly irregular. It's an experimental instruction style, less a firm grip, more a guiding hand. He encourages individuality, gives them a lot of freedom— allows them to make mistakes, learn hard lessons, and grow. It's like nothing Kylo's ever done before, yet he's taken to it so easily, enjoys it even. He tends to sleep better on the nights he trains with them. It's not just the physical exertion. It's something else, something he can't quite put his finger on. It feels like...

Kylo furrows his brows, searching for the right word. One lurks at the corners, trying to push its way through, but he grows cold before he can articulate it.

He slows, sensing the familiar presence ahead.

His throat tightens. He takes a deep breath, trying to purge his body of its disquiet. He needs to become detached, siphon off part of his mind and bury it. It's been so long since he's been in a meeting like this, one where he needs to be just as careful about what he thinks and feels as what he says and does.