Star Wars- In another Life.

Chapter 22- Prisoners

Kylo was strapped to a table in one of the interrogation rooms he'd frequently used when the usual First Order methods to acquire information failed. It seemed ironic that he should now be where so many before him had been, about to be subjected to Captain Phasma's infamous techniques. Nothing would make him talk; he would not give up the Resistance's location, his mother or Rey. All Phasma could do was weaken him, and danger did lie there. The weaker he grew physically, the more difficult it would be to maintain his resolve and the inner walls of his mind from his former master, Snoke. His injuries from the fight had been left untreated. He'd received no food or water, and no doubt Phasma would use her most painful forms of interrogation. Physical pain could be endured, but there was a price; without time to heal and rest, he would not regain his strength and would be vulnerable to Snoke. It was a concern, one he currently could do nothing about. Escape was pointless in his current condition; even if he could undo the restraints holding him to the table and get out of this room, getting back to his father and a ship without weapons was suicidal at best. He'd failed to use the simplest mind trick on the feeble-minded guard of the cell he and his father were being held in. He wasn't strong enough, and that was unlikely to change. He could feel a fever trying to take hold; his skin felt cold and clammy, his clothes damp, yet internally, he felt hot, and his hair seemed to be sticking to his face annoyingly. The wound along his face and on his torso was the cause; it had been a long time since he'd been badly injured and even longer since he'd been sick.

Kylo surveyed the room, silently trying to think of something else while he waited for the inevitable. Phasma would be silent and obedient, a powerful dog to her weak owner. Kylo could never understand why she was so loyal and what she had to gain from her union with Hux. Phasma was intelligent and ruthless; she could be a high-ranking officer, but instead, she remained a Captain, training the troops going into battle. Phasma was a fighter like himself; that was the answer. She chose to obey orders rather than make them so she could be amid battle and chaos because she enjoyed it.

When Hux and Phasma eventually entered, Hux would prattle on about what Phasma would do to him. Words were Hux's arsenal, and he loved the sound of his own voice. It was probably Hux's idea that he was lying here waiting. Hux was probably enjoying the sight of him injured and useless, strapped to a table. Kylo knew the expectation of torture was sometimes as sufficient as the torture itself, but Kylo wasn't just anybody. To Hux, this was personal; it wasn't about gleaning information. It was about inflicting pain, so why were they playing this waiting game?

The room in which he lay was like a medical room; he'd never noticed that before. Chrome and shiny, sterile and clean. Silent but for the hum of the ventilation system, the walls too thick to hear the drum of soldier's feet. The instruments on the table looked similar to those a medical droid or doctor might use, but these tools aimed to maim. The door hissed open, and Kylo turned to see Hux and his faithful shimmering dog had entered.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," Kylo said with a smirk, attempting to sound casual like his father might to rile Hux. The distasteful sneer on Hux's face told him it had worked.

"Go ahead. Nothing you say can ruin this moment for me. I've waited too long for this moment," Hux vented passionately.

Kylo's smirk faded, and he looked at Hux differently, "You hate me that much?"

Hux didn't answer. He didn't have to. Kylo could see it so clearly suddenly; Hux was under-appreciated for his talents and overlooked by the same harsh overlord. They should've been allies, brothers against Snoke's many cruelties, but instead, they did exactly what he'd wanted: hated each other, antagonised each other publically, rallied at each other's failures and fought for his approval.

"Do your worst, Hux; he won't thank you for it. You'll still be nothing to him. Nothing will ever be enough, I should know."

For the briefest moment, Kylo saw Hux's demeanour flicker, perhaps with doubt, before it stilled, and he turned on his heel, leaving Kylo alone with Phasma. Kylo could never read her within the helmet, not because of the helmet but because her emotions rarely wavered. Rarely angry, enthralled, joyful or hateful; devoid of emotion, only cold, calculating and controlled.