Author's Notes: Well, I think I've come to terms with the fact that "This is a Problem" probably isn't going to see another update for a very, very long time. Possibly never. Although, I suppose that's part of being a fanfiction author. You never really finish any projects... anyways, maybe I'll finish this one? (I've always loved my galaxy from far, far away.) Besides, I've always thought that General Hux is a little under-valued by the First Order, so here's his time to shine! This chapter contains two swears (still nothing serious). In addition, as always, PM me with any mistakes that you find.
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THANKS
Malina Alika: That continuity error that you pointed out was a big help. Thanks for your kind review!
One last thank you to all those that read this story and those who favorited/followed it. It really means a lot!
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Disclaimer: Lucas Films and Disney are the ones that own this, at least until they respond to my emails...
Two muscular Resistance pilots had dragged Hux outside of the structurally unstable cantina-palace in order to actually take their new prisoner back alive. The general was having none of it. He wasn't going to go back to the Resistance while breathing. Unknown to those outside of the First Order, all officers above the rank of corporal had a false tooth implanted in their mouth. For all intents and purposes, it was a true tooth. It looked like one, chewed like one, even (to a certain extent) decayed like one. The false was in no way distinguishable from its fellows except for one fact. It opened. Inside of every fake tooth as a small capsule of cyanide so that officers would have the choice of doing the responsible thing when it came down to it. All First Order personnel were supposed to take the patriotic route by valuing the stability of their regime over their own lives. This meant that Hux was gently prodding the cap of the false tooth with his tongue, just in case he had to suddenly take the last swallow of his life.
Just as he began to seriously contemplate on this option, the cantina collapsed with a massive roar, leaving only a few parts still standing. The sandstone palace that had stood for decades upon decades now lay in an enormous heap not thirty feet behind them. Realizing the smoke and noise for the perfect distraction they were, Hux elbowed the Resistance member on his left in the throat, rendering the man temporarily winded. Due to the oncoming night and still-floating particles of dust, the general kneed the other one in the crotch. Now that he was free, he could see about escaping. Unfortunately, his ship was docked on the other side of the plateau, in Bay 9. Which may or may not still be standing. Hux gave a vicious curse. He would have to kill every single one of these pieces of scum before he could begin his search in earnest. He wished his stormtroopers were still around; he really hated doing the legwork. Flicking his left boot in just the right way, a small, serrated blade popped out and locked into place.
The man that he had elbowed in the throat was regaining his breath, necessitating Hux to take him out first. Moving quickly, the general quietly wrapped himself around the figure. The Resistance member managed to let out a small scream before his neck was brutally snapped. Hux grabbed the man's blaster pistol off his belt and hooked the scum's hunting knife onto his belt. The next to go was his other captor, the one who had been kneed in the crotch. A clean shot through the head was the thing that finished him off. Before the body hit the ground, the four remaining members of the space vigilante army were mobilizing, trying to surround their rogue prisoner and take him down without any more damage to either side. Meanwhile, the aforementioned prisoner was attempting to calculate the odds if he were to simply cut and run, rather than stick it out and most likely be captured again. Unfortunately, he took too long in making this crucial decision and thus gave enough time for a helmeted man with light, straight hair to lunge at him.
Yet, even when thinking, decades of military training had ensured that Hux was never without his guard up. A quick swipe of his left boot and the man was down on the ground, moaning with pain over his torn ankles. He was alive, and that was about all he was going to get. Three people left before the general could safely check to see if his ship was still intact. A different Resistance member, most likely seeking glory, took a shot at one of Hux's knees. To the shooter's astonishment, it simply glanced off something under the target's trousers. The target hadn't even bothered to move this entire time, because he was at a rather unfortunate stalemate. If he shot at any of his remaining three opponents, the other two would take that opportunity and shoot him. If he walked closer, not only would the blaster shots be more powerful, but he would suddenly be in the range of whatever short-strike weapons were concealed in their belts. Hux sighed and lowered the blaster pistol, before throwing it onto the ground entirely.
"I surrender," he said coldly. There were some battles that one just had to simply give up. Fights should be picked wisely, and this was not one of them. Three against one was not what he would call "good odds", and the general knew when it was time to throw the towel in. He had come here for trade deals, not death by a blaster. Besides, there would be information to gain from this, if he played his cards right. In response to his declaration, the three Resistance members had immediately been shocked to the core. The top general of the First Order, General Armitage "Starkiller" Hux, was surrendering? To the Resistance of all things? Eventually, the astoundment wore off and one of the men unhooked a set of binders from his belt. Walking over, he forced Hux's arms behind his back, clipped the cuffs onto the pale, skinny wrists, and took the knife from his belt. The two others each grabbed an arm and started walking back towards a bulky blue and white shuttle that Hux could see clearly, now that the dust had finally settled.
The doors slid open as the group approached and the prisoner was shoved in first, followed by the man with the torn ankles who was supported by his friend. The general felt compelled to make a small observation. "You do know that your friend there," he said, pointing at the wounded man with light hair. "Will most likely not ever walk again? I tore deeply into his tendons. It would be more effective to simply kill him off. There's no point to his life now; he can't serve your vigilante army anymore." The light-haired man glared at him.
"You know what, you arrogant bastard? I'm the one that's valued here, so shut your mouth. At least my friends would care if I died, your lackeys back at the First Order probably couldn't care less!" the man screamed.
Hux sneered and spat at him. "The knife I cut you with earlier had an extremely potent poison embedded into its metal. The only known cure currently lies with my 'lackeys', thousands of light years away at the First Order. Please do enjoy your last one or so days of life; they most certainly won't be pleasant."
The other man now looked scared as he limped away from the general. His two guards began to drag him towards the back of the ship, where he would be staying for the duration of the journey. It wasn't a huge ship, in fact, it was on the smaller end. However, to Hux, the journey to the brig felt like it went on forever. When the pilots opened the small cell, really a former bunk, he attempted to get a good look at the control panel, but failed. He only managed to see the first number, which was a 9. 'Great, only 729 possibilities left.' he thought. He was roughly thrown out of his thoughts when he was literally thrown into the cell headfirst. As he sat up and the door closed, he noticed a massive streak of dirt that reached all the way down his uniform. There was no mirror, but he could tell that his hair no longer looked like it had this morning. Seeing as there was nothing left to do, he leaned against the back wall so he could see any approaching Resistance members and stretched his legs out in from of him.
He began to think of escape. Perhaps, if he found out the proper access code to his cell, he might be able to kill the remaining Resistance members and use the ship to fly back to First Order space. There was only one other plan that had a slight chance of working. He would have to wait for the ship to land in order to refuel, then deactivate the lock on his cell door and sneak out. From there, there was the slight possibility of stealing a ship. However, after some more careful consideration, Hux dismissed these ideas as foolish. There was no way to keep track of all 729 possible combinations, even with an enhanced memory like his. In addition, surely someone would recognize him if he exited the ship. His was a unique look. Hux instead decided to close his eyes. A little sleep would do him some good. Everything would be better when he woke up.
When Hux next woke up, it was to the rough slaps of the Resistance members from yesterday. "Get up, and don't ask questions," he demanded. He was the largest of the general's attackers from yesterday, and he could tell that it wouldn't be wise to defy this particular man. Hux got up and was immediately grabbed around the upper arms by the larger man. As the pair walked down to the front of the ship, it began to become clear as to where they were going. Looking out the ship's windows, it was evident that they had docked at an established port of some kind, perhaps to refuel or some other menial task. Maybe they were going to try to heal their wounded friend. That idea lasted as long as it took for Hux to register the greeting party. The two men from the ship that were still alive (the wounded man had apparently died) had joined the seven new Resistance members that flanked an older woman dressed in various shades of grey. Nine Resistance members, not counting the one that was still holding his arms, and General Organa. Even worse, two of Organa's guards were the captured pilot and the stormtrooper traitor.
Hux practically groaned in despair. Escape was not going to be easy. Then, General Organa walked straight up to Hux and did something that no one (except for his father) had ever dared to do. She slapped him clear across the face. As he reeled from shock, horror, and amazement at the woman's nerve, he missed her instructions to take him to the holding cells beneath the base. Once he snapped out of it, he began to struggle a little; just enough so that it would seem like he was putting up a fight. Of course, he wouldn't even dream of really doing that at this point, but it was important to keep up appearances, otherwise, he might face a major charge of treason from Supreme Leader Ren when he got back. When he and his two guards from the ship had just nearly entered the base, one of them slipped a piece of black cloth from his jacket pocket, roughly shoving it over his head.
Flashback end
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After that, he woke up in a whitewashed cell, terrified that he hadn't noticed someone knocking him out on the way down. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, with no windows or chronos in the cell, anywhere from a day to a week could have passed without him knowing any better. Apparently, whatever they had used was one hell of a sedative because he now had a lovely migraine behind his left eye. Shoving that to the side, he got up and examined his cell, hoping for a weakness to exploit. After a few minutes of examination, he determined that there wasn't and instead sat down on the slab of stone chained to the wall that apparently served as his bed. There was nothing left to do except wait.