These Violent Delights

Chapter 7: Coward

—

You hadn't slept in five days.

The tiredness behind your eyes intoxicated you. Streaks of light zipped by your peripherals, followed by sporadic periods of darkness. That started on day one, but the hallucinations came after day three. At one point, you thought your comrades had come to rescue you, and overcome with joy, you had collapsed to the ground in tears. It took a while before you realized you had been trying to hug the wall.

After that, when you still wouldn't submit, the torture began.

Kylo made good on his promise that you would suffer, allowing First Order intelligence officers to use every dirty trick in the prisoner handbook to make you come unglued. They made you endure scorching heat and frigid temperatures. They overwhelmed your senses for hours at a time before throwing you into a sensory deprivation pit. They starved you by putting food in your mouth, disallowing you to chew or swallow, and they made you stand for hours at a time. And those were just the things you could recall. Entire chunks of time were missing from your memories, leaving you nothing but darkness and confusion to try and sort through.

Their efforts broke you down sooner than you'd like to admit, and the hallucinations were constant now. You couldn't stop the voices that called out from the mouths of imaginary creatures stampeding through your mind. Memories, fantasies, reality...it all blended together to create a constant, nauseating conversation in your head. Sometimes, you were positive you could hear the voices of the dead drifting to you from the Other World. You wished you could join them.

The Supreme Leader had come to you almost every hour, on the hour, for the last five days. His visits were no longer filled with useless questions about Luke—now, he was adamant about breaking you down, intent that you let him into some deep, inaccessible part of your mind. He was close to succeeding, you'd give him that, but every time you thought about giving up, you remembered who the fuck you were. And dead woman walking or not, you refused to let Kylo Ren win.

"Such a sleepy pet," the devil himself mused, looking down at you lethargically crouched by his feet.

"Shut up, Jabba," you muttered, inching away from him. He had taken you to General Hux's office for something—you already forgot why—and no matter how many times you scooted away from him, he was never far behind.

Kylo clasped his hands behind his back, peering down at you through that faceless mask. "I see you're struggling to hold it together, Kitten. Might I suggest you give me what I need in exchange for what you need?"

"Yeah, no. Sorry, big guy."

He made an apathetic noise. "By the end of tonight, you will submit."

You narrowed your bloodshot eyes. "I don't th—"

Armor clinking, footsteps, and the whoosh of the blast doors made you jump. You clumsily moved your head toward the sound, and even with blurred vision, you recognized the fire-red hair and smug disposition of none other than General Hux.

You stumbled to get on your feet; you couldn't bear your enemy seeing you in such a vulnerable state. It took you some time and a lot of cursing, but once you stood up, you faced him and scowled.

Hux looked amused at your efforts. "Good heavens, Ren. What have you done to your prisoner?" He squinted at you, a mixture of horror and fascination playing over his face. "She looks like shit."

"At least I have an excuse, General."

"She has been awake for five days." You jumped when Kylo's deep, modified voice rang in your ears. You had already forgotten that the big bastard was right behind you.

Hux raised his eyebrows. "Impressive," he said as he began circling you. "What for?"

"She refuses to submit."

Hux let out a tight, cold laugh as he stood in front of you again. He spoke through a sickeningly pleasant smile. "You just don't know when to give up, do you, child?"

You struggled to keep your balance, glaring at him. "I'll never give up."

"Ah, spoken like a true Resistance fighter. I see the lack of sleep hasn't dulled your willfulness." Judgmental, green eyes looked you up and down. "Or stupidity."

"Never."

He tsked. "A shame the Resistance got their hands on you after Tasu died. I've seen your file. You could have made a loyal servant to the First Order."

"I would never fight for the First Order, for you," you sneered. "I fight for what I believe in, for what's right."

"How sweet," he said, his tone doused in distaste. He turned away from you and addressed the Supreme Leader. "And what exactly will her submission get you, Ren?"

He stepped around you to approach Hux. "That does not concern you."

"Fine." Hux sighed as he grabbed a stack of files off his desk. He drawled at your captor, almost like he was bored, as he flipped through the pages. "Once you get it, do consider keeping her intact. I could find a use for someone like her. The Order could find a use for someone like her."

You scoffed. "The First Order can lick my a—" you started to say, but a new wave of delirium flung you sideways. Stumbling into the bar, you sent a bottle of scotch crashing to the floor. Both men turned toward the commotion. You looked down at the golden liquid gushing through the shattered glass, then glanced up at Hux, cracking a toothy grin. "I hope that was expensive."

With a frown, Hux looked back at Kylo and threw the file down on the tabletop. "As I was saying—I will need access to M421 after she breaks. That is why I requested your audience today, Supreme Leader. I wanted to advise you not to ruin her before we have the chance to use her. I'd very much like the chance to assess her worth."

"If I were you, General, I would be much more concerned with your army's worth, not the girl's," Kylo said before stepping closer to Hux. "Seeing as how the last five days on Exegol have proven to be very, very difficult for them."

You yawned—loudly and obnoxiously—but could still hear the poorly disguised contention in Hux's voice as he took a seat behind his desk. "It's a three-hundred-year-old citadel protected by Sith alchemy, Ren. Forgive me if we mere mortals could not override the Force code deliberately designed to keep us out."

Sith alchemy? Force code? Your brows pulled together as you rocked on the heels of your feet. Even without being mind-numbingly exhausted, you didn't understand what they were talking about. But whatever it was, Kylo was not happy.

"I provided very clear instructions. Access to the fortress is not forbidden, even to you mere mortals."

Bitter silence hanging between them, you eyeballed Hux, eagerly awaiting his response. Watching them bicker was the most entertaining thing you've seen all week. You wanted to clap and holler and encourage them to rip each other's heads off, but that plan was foiled when you started to sway on your feet again. "Ah, fucking hells—"

"Yes, and bless you for that, Supreme Leader," Hux asserted over the sound of you clanking into the bar once again. "Perhaps you could grant me some leeway, seeing as I had to prevent my platoons from killing one another by day three."

"Ohmygodsnoway—buckethead on buckethead crime?" you slurred as you clutched onto whatever you could for dear life. They ignored your efforts to stay vertical as Kylo moved closer to Hux's desk, placing his fists on the tabletop to lean in and look down at him.

"I warned you that the Sith Citadel contained a concentrated pool of power, capable of influencing even non-Force-users to act at the dark side's behest," the Supreme Leader said, his modified voice colder than ice. You flung your gaze sloppily between them, dying for someone to throw a punch. "I wish I could say your failure to heed this warning is not my problem, General, but you've granted me no such luxury. My knights and I have no choice but to extend and join your efforts on Exegol."

"Ohhhh, shit, he big mad," came your garbled commentary. Neither of them validated your existence, but you didn't care—you were enjoying watching that big ole' vein protruding from Hux's forehead as he tried to remain civil.

After simmering in an unyielding silence, he finally nodded. "Understood, sir." It wasn't until Kylo pushed off his desk that Hux continued, sitting up straight in his chair as he cleared his throat. "Now that we have that squared away, I'd be delighted to discuss your rationale behind selecting Allegiant General Pryde for our recruiting station on Batuu, as I have been nothing but your most steadfast ally in seeking an end to the Resistance. Surely with Skywalker's return, you'd want your most elite..."

Another yawn sucker-punched you in the face. You didn't have the attention span to listen to Hux tell Kylo how great he thought he was. As he droned on and on and on, you dropped your head down to your feet. Suddenly, it was too heavy to hold up, which was a bummer until you saw the pile of glass from the alcohol bottle. Then it became an opportunity. You immediately tried to crouch down to grab a piece. You knew you wouldn't be quick enough to kill either of them, but at least you could put yourself out of your own misery. But as you bent down a little further, the stupid floor jolted again and hit you square in the face.

"Ow," you grumbled, your body melting into the ground. Your head spun, your body hurt, and the same upbeat tune they had been torturing you with turned on in your mind on full volume. It was miserable and unbearable, and instead of getting up, you allowed yourself to crumple to the floor and stay there.

Voices swirled around you, speaking in hushed tones. You felt your body desperately trying to succumb to sleep, but you were physically unable to take refuge in your fatigue. Damn him.

Something squatted by you. "Would you like to sleep?" You shook your head yes. "Submit."

You let out a sob, bringing your knees to your chest, clutching them like a child. You shook your head no.

"Fine," Kylo said, and a warm, delicious feeling spread over you like a heavy blanket. Sleep. You leaned into the euphoric feeling, but twenty seconds passed and boom—you were viciously pulled back into consciousness, your tormentor hovering over you.

A devastated whimper tore from your throat. "No, no, please."

"Submit," the mask cooed, stroking your face with a gloved hand. You jolted away from him, but Kylo hushed you and placed that warm blanket over you again. He only let you doze off into unconsciousness for a few seconds before forcing your mind back to attention, ripping the blissful feeling away. "Submit."

Your mouth hung open in agonizing pain. You couldn't speak, couldn't see. He continued to toss you in and out of sleep, your body writhing on the floor of the General's office. Each time he pulled you out of it chipped away at your soul, reducing you to an empty, splintered shell. It made you wonder if he was right all along—were you a monster, and this was your punishment for all the lives you had taken?

A cautionary voice carried through the room. "Ren."

"Submit," Kylo growled, taking your face in his hands.

You struggled to open your eyes, and when you finally did, you found they were unable to focus. As his mask swung back and forth over you, you began to cry.

"Ren!"

The fingers on your face dug into your flesh. An immense pressure invaded your mind, forcing your eyes open, and a low, terrifying growl ripped through your head. "Submit."

"Never," you choked out, gasping. "Never!"

With a hiss, Kylo let go of you and stood up. Even through your state of delirium, you heard the way he moved and could tell he was livid. Boots pounding against the floor, robes whipping into things as he walked by—you were surprised he didn't actually kill you this time.

You heard the doors whoosh open, followed by a snarl. "Bring her to Sector 45B."

The Stormtroopers spoke in unison. "Yes, sir!"

Footsteps flew by you. "Ren! Don't you dare leave your toy here!" When he didn't receive a response, Hux cursed under his breath and walked over to you, tutting. "Pathetic."

You curled yourself into a little ball. You just needed a moment to get your shit together, then you could face General Hux in all your bitchy glory. But this moment was not that moment.

He crouched next to you and sighed. "Poor little soldier," he said, stroking your face. "Give in. Give him what he wants and make it easier on yourself."

"Never."

Hux pursed his lips. "If you think this is bad..." he said, twirling a piece of your hair between his fingers, "you are sadly mistaken, dear. He will ruin you."

"He can try," you croaked, jolting away from his touch. "Don't touch me."

"I wouldn't dream," Hux mused, getting on his feet in one quick movement. He called out to the Stormtroopers as he walked away. "I suggest delivering Ren's special cargo to 45B now. It will take you ten minutes just to make your way to that part of the ship."

"Right away, General." Footsteps approached you. "Get up."

You groaned. "Let me die in peace."

"Shut up," one of them said, "Resistance slut."

You feigned a pout. "That wasn't very nice. I just—ah," you said, gasping as they lifted you off the ground. You squirmed as the Stormtroopers threaded their arms in yours. You tried to break free, but it backfired—the harder you struggled, the tighter they held you. And in doing so, the shirt-that-was-really-a-sack rode up, nearly exposing your bare ass. "Whoa, watch it, buckethead. If you're gonna get me naked, you better take me on a date first."

"Shut up, rebel scum," the 'trooper hissed, squeezing his fingers into your flesh.

"Did you fry all three of your brain cells trying to come up with that?" you said, stumbling as the Stormtrooper pushed you through the corridor. "I mean, come on. So unoriginal."

"Shut it."

"Sure thing," you said with a smile, licking your cracked lips. You were seeing double. "Stormtrooper scum."

You tensed, anticipating his next move. A sharp pain invaded your shoulder blades as his blaster dug into your back.

Fine, I'll be quiet.

Wherever you were going, it was a long walk—and a cold one. The number of looks you received were countless. Sanitation workers, First Order officers, even droids gave you the stink eye as they dragged you through the halls. You did your best to wink at them, but after a while, you didn't pay them attention. You were too distracted by the sheer size of this place.

You knew the First Order had extensive resources, but you didn't know their technology was this advanced. You passed dozens of hangars on your way, all filled with TIE fighters, warships, bombers, and countless legions of Stormtroopers. Regular soldiers in white, special operation 'troopers, shadow scouts, Stormtroopers all in red with heavy blasters...it made you realize that the Resistance was up against something much bigger than you could have ever imagined.

If anyone is even alive....

Bitterness invaded your gut, chasing away the sadness. If they left me to die, why would I care about them? But even in your fatigued state of mind, you knew you couldn't deny the loyalty you had for them. They are my new family, you told yourself, as the 'troopers pulled you through more twists and turns of the ship. You frowned. Or at least they were.

You looked around, confused, as the Stormtroopers brought you into a secluded corridor. After you were dragged through three different sets of blast doors, you realized this place felt distinctly different from the rest of the ship. You had just seen the most pristinely clean show of wealth and power, but this corridor felt rundown, lacking the sterility of the other areas. It only got worse the farther you walked down the long, grimy hallway, and just as the Stormtroopers released you with a shove, the lights flickered off and on.

"Have fun."

You bit your lip as you looked at them from over your shoulder, waiting for them to exit before trying to open the doors they went through. You gave it a firm nudge, but the control panel remained locked. Okay then, I have to keep going down this scary-ass hallway. You faced forward and took cautious steps down the dark, damp path. This is great. Fabulous, even.

Wrapping your arms around your chest, your mind started to spin out, imagining the scenarios for what was to come. What's next, waterboarding? Feeding me to rathtars? Pushing me off the hangar as they watch me float aimlessly and choke to death? Boiling me alive and—

Your heart sank when the doors opened before you, revealing a large, defunct kitchen.

You stepped through, jumping when the blast doors slammed closed behind you. Pinning your back against the sheet of metal, your eyes darted to the pots, pans, and trash littered on the blood-stained floors. Then to the rusted stove tops, ovens, and refrigerators strewn around at random, and lastly, you saw the rusted table in the center of the room, equipped with restraints and a yellowing light fixture set above it. It was archaic and gruesome, similar to a table used for medical procedures, but worst of all—next to it stood Kylo Ren.

"M421," came his level greeting, drawing your eyes to his mask. "What a lovely surprise, seeing you here."

You tried to steady your breathing, your gaze flitting behind him to the massive, dark figures that hung back in the shadows. You didn't notice them at first, but now that you had, you felt the overwhelming urge to run, to escape. Not because of the dark, grungy room, or the way Kylo had his mask fused on you, but because those six masked figures were holding very large, very scary-looking weapons in their hands. A war club. A vibrocleaver. An executioner's ax. A fucking flamethrower, to name a few. And all of them had their sights set on you.

"Kriff," you said under your breath, your hands blindly searching for the control panel to get the fuck out of here.

These masked men—you knew who they were. Everyone did. Even while you were in Kanjiklub, you had heard stories about the band of Force-sensitive warriors that served Kylo Ren in his evil, ruthless ways. Cruel, unstoppable killers without objectives, without boundaries. Just an appetite for violence. They were the Knights of Ren, here to break you down and do what their master could not: make you submit.

Screaming at the top of your lungs, you spun around to pound on the blast door.