Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot idea.
.:Kylo Ren:.
Chapter Three: New Man
When she had first entered, Captain Fasma had not been afraid. It wasn't in her character to fear, especially where Kylo Ren was concerned. The Sith was no more than a boy; immature and sullen, desperate and weak. Fasma had little respect for such a man, and what she did not respect, Fasma did not fear.
Metal and plastic bits crunched beneath her heavy boots, and with the enhanced vision of her helmet, she could make out the decimated med-bay around her.
Med-berths were flung on their sides, bent and warped like tin cans. Long scrapes clawed the floor where heavy equipment had been dragged, and every inch of the space was littered in the debris from weaker medical packages and flimsy silver instruments. A few uniformed bodies lay on the ground, and the battered forms of a few lifeless assistant medical drones lay on their sides. Darkness suffused the scene like a smoke cloud, and Kylo Ren was nowhere to be seen.
Fasma approached the center console; a heavy, pale bulk fitted with enough control panels and shattered black screens to monitor twenty patients at once. It was dead and dormant - cool. For such a machine to have become cold, it must have been shut down for several hours.
Fasma's helmet swiveled as she leveled her gaze into the darker, more obscured corners of her vision, frowning. It was possible that Ren had already fled to his own rooms, but, given his injuries, that was unlikely.
When she had run her gaze over every corner within sight, the Trooper Captain turned back toward the lit entryway behind her. Hux was there, looking as tense as a chicken held before the chopping block. Fasma snorted, and was about to call out when it happened.
Something swung down from the ceiling, suspended by cabling - massive, metallic, and spasming. Without hesitation Fasma lashed out, her fist striking metal and crunching inward.
That was a mistake.
Something jolted through her arm upon contact, and her helmet rattled as the charge fried her armor's systems. She went ridged as unseen electricity ran unhindered through her body, and Fasma knew she would die if she did not do something. The shape before her was still indistinct, especially now with her systems frying. Acting on assumption, fear beginning to eat into her unnaturally dispassionate heart, the female officer gasped out a staticky plea for attention.
"L-Lord Ren-!"
For a moment there was only the agony of unresponsive blackness and the thundering crash of wave after wave of building charge rolling through her body.
Then it stopped, and the electrifying shape that hung before her crumpled in upon itself with a pitiful crunch, machinery fluid dripping wetly down. Wires she had not even felt, through her armor, disentangled from her wrist with a slick sound, and the cables that supported the now-crumpled thing snapped. It fell heavily at her feet with a thud.
Fasma staggered on her feet, trembling and gasping for air. Her arm twitched at her side, and the female officer gritted her teeth against the lingering pain of electrocution.
Her helmet had shorted out, effectively rendering her blind, and her weapon had fallen from spasming fingers - clattering away into the dark.
Wary and disoriented, Fasma sank into a crouch, metallic joints screeching in protest.
From behind her, at the bright doorway, Commander Hux's furious, quivering words rang out. "Ren! You've gone too far, this time-!" The man sounded livid. Every word was like acid, and Fasma heard the click of a comm. link. "Hux to bridge; send down countermeasures appropriate to handling Kylo Ren."
A pause.
"No I did NOT mean anyone else! Captain Fasma is-"
"Alive." A new voice broke in, sounding from somewhere directly above Fasma's head. She froze, eyes wide behind her helmet.
The voice was Kylo Ren's, to be sure; rolling and deep, warped by the metallic rasp of his mask's filter. Something light and cloth-like brushed with a hiss against Fasma's shoulder - a robe? The female officer remained as still as possible, eyes narrowing.
When Ren spoke again, he was directly in front of her. She jerked back instinctively, hands rising to rip and tear - anything to remove the threat - but what seemed to be thin air held her immobile.
She could not resist as something dark hovered closer to her helmet. She barely quivered as fingers found the wrist that had born the brunt of the electricity's current, pulling her arm upward for Lord Ren's inspection.
The voice sounded again, near enough to send shivers up the female officer's spine - if she had been the sort for such a thing. Instead she remained still, caught within the hold of the Sith's Force, and waited. Lord Ren was obviously alive - alive and, more astonishingly, mobile. Having fulfilled her orders from Hux, Fasma could now afford to be a curious audience to what happened next.
"You should not second-guess me, Commander. You will lose more captains that way." Something shifted - air breathed against Fasma's armor as the Sith rose, his robes rippling softly. The Force continued to hold her bound with every step from the young apprentice, and she noted with some surprise that it was almost soothing. The thought was a strange one, but once she realized it, it could not be ignored.
It was like careful touch - like being cradled in feathers. Fasma scorned most comforts, being a soldier at heart and in practice, but this... though she disliked it, her body did not. Even as she was lowered - forced slowly down to the floor without a sound - she could not help but enjoy the whisper of power in the air - the crooning murmur that told her there was no more need of her services... she was damaged, and sleep was the best recovery.
It was too smooth to be unnoticed, but she could no more resist it than she could disagree with it.
The last thing the Captain heard before darkness swallowed her was the beginning of Hux's enraged tirade.
If he had been furious at the supposed loss of Captain Fasma, he was livid at the news she was alive. More accurately, he was enraged at the source of the information. At Kylo Ren.
Commander Hux was not taller than the Sith apprentice, but what he lacked in size he made up for with the intensity of hatred.
Ren had come simply enough out of the darkened med-bay, and once the man's bare white feet had touched the carpeted corridor floor, the darkened chamber had lit into life behind him, revealing the trashed interior and a very unconscious Fasma sprawled on the debris-littered floor. A large ceiling fan, crumpled and battered and leaking fluid, lay at her feet, its free wires lolling lifelessly. Cables dangled from the cracked ceiling, and every piece of furniture that wasn't bolted to the floor was flipped, wrecked, and in a state of general disrepair.
Fury didn't even begin to describe Hux's feelings on the matter at the moment.
"You were injured, Lord Ren," He spat, hands fisted, suit straining as he swelled with rage. "It is my duty to ensure that you remain alive, and I cannot comply with that directive if you refuse to accept treatment!"
A dark visor watched him impassively. The rest of Ren was stark naked save for a coat-like robe, but somehow the familiar mask seemed to clothe him - to render him properly dressed for the argument. Hux didn't know how that worked out, but the impression seeped in the air.
Pale lips thinned in a sneer as the Commander glared, chest heaving.
"Do you have any idea of what you cost me?" He continued. "You may serve the same master as I, Ren, but you serve the enemy better with every attempt!"
"I apologize, Commander."
Hux paused mid breath, startled. The tall figure of Ren seemed to loom without trying, calm and controlled.
That in and of itself was Commander Hux's first clue that something was very wrong.
A pale hand reached out between them, falling solidly onto Hux's cushioned shoulder-pad. Its fingers were long and thin, as ever; Hux had seen Ren's naked skin before. But they were steadier now, the grip firm and unforgiving.
The inky gaze of the mask seemed to press into him when he looked back up, and Hux could see his own blank reflection in the glass.
Ren spoke again. "The destruction was unintentional, Commander Hux. I suggest, if you wish to avoid this sort of thing in the future, you leave me to tend to my own business."
And then he was gone. There was no dramatic swish of robes - no final glare or imperiousness. There was only a darkly clad back fading into the distance, bare feet soundless against the carpet, hooded head held low but steady.
Hux stared stupidly after the receding figure, expression slack. Slowly, brows lowering in mixture of confusion and irritation, the Commander activated his comm. link,
"Hux to bridge. Repairs required in medical bay." He glanced back into the now brightly lit room, gaze falling onto Fasma's sleeping form. "...Send a medic."