AN: I'm sick at home atm, so you all get an early update.
Keep up the amazing reviews guys! They are the wind beneath my wings.I wonder if anyone saw the buyer reveal coming. are the characters still sitting well with everyone, or have they gone a little rogue?

Survival Trials

Chapter 5

Boots was not waiting for him like he expected, but there was only one direction to go from here. Still, he scrutinized the ceilings and the corners of each wall to make sure he hadn't missed an exit point. He hadn't.
Ezra took his time, but he still reached the end of the corridor far quicker then he'd liked.

He'd barley shuffled into the dim light when a bag was shoved over his head. Ezra tried to fight, mostly in surprise at the ambush, but two strong hands took a hold of his arms and began dragging him along.

Ezra went limp after a few feet, letting his heels scrape across the duracrete floor. He was tired, and he needed to have the shackles removed before he could even consider escape again. He didn't dare pull the force trick again- not now there were more eyes on him.
Let them carry him- he was weary of walking in chains. His head hurt and he was still trying to understand how everything had gone so wrong.

He should have listened to Kanan.

He was dragged down an echoing hallway and Ezra watched as the dim orange light filtering through the sack became a yellow glow. He could hear voices now, faint and fading in an out as he was dragged past, what he figured, were open rooms along the hallway. They weren't the husky voices of his captors. They were new voices, with varying accents and lilts and all conversing in pleasant polite tones. The voices of people with money, no doubt.

All at once he was jerked upright, pulled to his feet and made to stand on his own.

He felt hands travel down his legs to his feet and heard the jingle of keys.

Ezra's heart began to flutter as the weights came off his ankles and the keys moved up to his wrists. This was it. He would cooperate with who ever had purchased him, and the very first opportunity he had to get away: he would take it, no more waiting.

Something was off here and every fibre of his being told him he couldn't afford to wait for his rescue. He knew it was coming, but his instincts told him he might not be here to receive it. He needed to make a break for it and hope the crew would catch up to him.

Ezra flexed his toes in his boots, preparing to spring into action as soon as he knew which way he was going to run. The shackles dropped from his wrists and Ezra felt the weight fall away with a sigh. His arms felt light and ached with release.

But in the same movement, something cold and weighty was closed around neck and settled against his collar bone. A shiver of warning ran up his spine.

What- Ezra thoughts were interrupted as the sack was pulled off his head in one clean motion and light flooded his eyes. He was lifted off his feet and thrown through an open doorway. Ezra landed hard on his knees and groaned as his head throbbed under the single bright spotlight overhead.

He heard the guards step into the room, and the hatch pulled shut behind them and the door seal pressurised.

Ezra sat up, as quickly as he dared, and looked around.
The room was larger then he expected, and carved into plain earthen walls. Where they still underground?

A single hover chair was in the centre of the room with its back to Ezra. A green Twi'lek girl was knelt beside it, her face bowed low. She made no movement to look at Ezra, but he heard her whisper in a soft voice.

"Your new purchase has arrived, Mister Azmorigan."

Ezra, who had been studying the ceiling, looking for a vent, a duct- anything, swung around, eyes wide in surprise.
"Azmorigan?!" His gut clenched in panic.

The hover chair pulled around, carting the red skinned crime lord.

"Yes! It is I." Azmorigan said in an pompous nasal voice, waving his short arms out and gesturing to himself. He grinned his crooked block teeth, and Ezra thought he seemed pleased he had recognised him. The boy winced, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. He shifted backwards, pulling away from the wobbling jowls, as the chair and Azmorigan drew nearer.

"And you-" Azmorigan continued coming in close, and pressing one pointed finger into Ezra's chest. "Are a member of the infernal Ghost crew. Or were as the fact may be. Now," he leaned back in his seat and grinned smugly, laying his hand against his fat chest, "You belong, to me."

The words weren't what filled him with anger, it was the smile.

"I don't belong to anyone, you second-rate Hutt!" Ezra shouted, he shot forwards, hands outstretched. If he could get his arm around the fat man's neck, maybe he could pull his blaster-

But his thoughts never came to fruition.
Ezra had been electrocuted before. The occasional overloaded circuit charge wasn't something to worry about, as long as he learnt from his mistake.

So Ezra recognised the sharp pain that suddenly clenched every muscle he had and pulled his feet out from under him- but the voltage was higher then anything he'd ever experienced before. He flopped, boneless, gritting his teeth and grunting as the electricity coursed through his body.

When the spaseming had stopped, Ezra blinked as he lifted his throbbing head off the floor with a groan. He unglued his teeth and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His body felt overwrought, prickling and twitching involuntarily. Did he smell, burning?

"Brilliant things aren't they?" Azmorigan asked, sounding almost bored and fascinated at the same time. The hover chair had retreated back to the wall, and Azmorigan was sitting contentedly on the edge of his seat with a broad grin under his snout. He put his sharp little hand out to the side, grouping the empty air, and the servant Twi'lek girl appeared from behind the chair.

She brought a bowl of cracknuts up to the grasping hand. He didn't even turn to look at her, instead just began shovelling handfuls of nuts into his mouth faster then he could chew.

"They operate on their own frequency and put you completely at the whim of others, see?"

Ezra seethed, injustice filled his heart and he lashed out, voice cracking."You won't get away with-"

Azmorigan simply held up a small black remote in his other hand and flicked a key.

Ezra felt his fingers retract tightly into fists, as another short buzz of electricity blew down his spine again. His teeth bit down on his tongue and he tasted blood. He squirmed on the floor, arching his back painfully, and grunting. But this charge was shorter lived then the first.

After a few moments, the seizing stopped, but the short stabbing prickles continued to run all over his skin.

Ezra looked up, blinking blearily a the angry red blob, his chins swinging. He tried to piece his thoughts back together, but all he could hear was the blood pumping in his brain and the sound of Azmorigan's lips smacking together.

Chew, smack, gobble, "Pack quite a punch, don't they?" gulp, swallow.

Ezra swallowed on his dry, bloody, mouth and slowly pulled himself onto his knees.

Now wasn't the time to be running his mouth off. He needed to be smart. He needed to play the game.

Ezra took a deep, dry, breath and looked the crime lord flat in the eye. "Why did you buy Me, Mister Azmorigan Sir." he demanded thickly.

Azmorigan's smug look grew suddenly pleased, and a little fanatic. His hand was suddenly still in the bowl of nuts. He leant forward in his seat and a several crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spat, eyes wide.

"Because your crew humiliated me! Because your twi'lek captain stole what belonged to me and insulted my honour!" It did not escape Ezra's notice that the servant girl flinched at the mention of Hera.

Azmorigan settled back in his seat, trying to compose himself. "I couldn't believe my luck when you appeared at the auction. It took me a few moments to recognise you- you are much..." He waved a hand trying to pick his words. "Dirtier, then I remembered." he barked, laughing at his own joke.

Ezra frowned, and bowed his head. At least the old engine oil was still thick and crusty on his cheek. It had probably saved him from anyone calling in the imps, yet.
Imps or Azmorigan- it was a tough choice who he preferred right now.

The crime lord grinned and his words turned cold again.
"I bought you, boy, because I have plans for you."

Ezra do not like the sound of that.

"Tell me," Azmorigan continued, narrowing his eyes and pinching on chin in thought. "Where is your crew now?"

Ezra swallowed hard and returned the hard look. Did the chubby crime lord wish to random him back? To use him as leverage against Hera?

"They're not far." he said, hoping he wasn't lying.

Azmorigan snorted and grinned. "If you are here, they are further away then you think, boy."

"Take me to Vizargo." Ezra said quickly, brushing away Azmorigan words. "He'll buy me for twice what you paid. Three times, if you ask nicely."

Ezra doubted this very much, but any chance of getting closer to Vizargo was a step closer to Lothal and the Ghost crew. Maybe he could outsmart Azmorigan and escape, like Hera had once. If not, making to the broken horn would be preferable. Vizargo would also want another favour, but Ezra would gladly take that price for now. Another day alive now, was worth risking one down the track. Anything to get this awful collar off.

But Azmorigan snorted and waggled a fat dismissive finger in Ezra's direction.

"No, I am not interested in dealing with Vizargo or credits."

Ezra was confused.

"Then what did you buy me for?" he demanded. If Azmorigan didn't want random, what did he want?

Azmorigan smirked, his fat face wobbling with every small change, his brows pulled back over yellow eyes that glitter with malice, and his voice filled with pride, like he thought he was incredibly clever.
"To give you away."

Ezra blinked, and then snorted rancorously through his nose. "What? Are there no nice fruit baskets on this rock, so you thought a teenage boy would do just Fine? I didn't know you were so generous Azmorigan."

Azmorigan's contented look was immediately wiped away and spittle flew as he shouted.
"You will pay for that pathetic excuse for a crew's mistakes, boy! You had no idea who you were dealing with last time we met. And now You will pay for your captains mistakes- Because I," He sat upright in his chair, his chest puffed out proudly.
"I have bought you and supplied you as a candidate in the next Survivalist Trial!"

He finished his booming threat with a flourishing wave of his hands, like confetti or fireworks might spring into the air above him. He looked expectantly down his snout on Ezra, with a narrow, proud, jut of his soft chins.

Ezra blinked and tilted his head to one side. "The surra-what?" He demanded, confused beyond measure now.

Azmorigan deflated, looking crestfallen his words had clearly not had the effect he expected. He opened his mouth, and it looked like he might explain further, but he struggled to find the right words. "The trial- it- Oh never mind! I shouldn't be expected to explain to someone as pathetic as you."

Azmorigan fell back against his hover chair with a groan. He gave a dismissive, weary, wave of one hand, while the other resumed shovelling nuts into his maw. "Bring in the Trainer and take him away. We are done here."

"Wait- Azmorigan," Ezra began sensing his last chance for escape falling away from him. "We can discuss this. Surely there's something you want-" he broke off in a cry a something sharp was pressed against his neck. He jerked away, and turned to see a brutish humanoid man, in a blue uniform, holding an empty hyposyringe.

He gaped, holding his hands against tender spot on his neck. Everything began to fizzle.

"The only thing I want boy," Azmorigan answered calmly, "is payback.'

The guards gathered up by his arms again, and Ezra was surprised that he was glad- because his legs were a prickling mass of jelly now and he wasn't sure he would able to stand, let alone run.

"And I'm sure to get it. I hope your precious crew keeps a watchful eye on the holonet."

"Azmorigan..." Ezra muttered numbly, trying to turn his gaze back on the red wobbling mass. Azmorigan was starting to ...blur around the edges. He mouth wouldn't keep up. "They'll... they'll find me. And you..."

Azmorigan's laugh was warped. "Pah! Your crew, boy, is probably miles away by now, boy. And soon- there wont be anything left of you to find. There's nothing to trace what will become of you, back to me."

Ezra felt the floor slip out from under him, and he thought maybe he'd been thrown over someone shoulder. The gravity in the room was shifting.
Azmorigan's laughter echoed in his ears and Ezra fell away from consciousness, again.

Ezra groaned as he came too.

He was quickly getting sick of being knocked unconscious, with drugs and boots. His head still throbbed, only now on both sides.

His throat was sore and dry, and he put a hand up to sooth the ache. But instead his hands found metal.

Oh right, the collar, he thought, trying to force his eyes open.

He was slumped across on a metal bench, in what looked like the back transport vehicle. The walls were humming faintly.
Across from him, on his own fold out seat, sat the brutish humanoid man who'd given him the knock out drug.

He had dark skin, a wiry brush of whiskers on his upper lip, and bright yellow eyes. His dark blue uniform look like it was straining at the seams over his thick arms and broad chest.

He was staring at Ezra with a blank expression. Seeing the boy open his eyes, he reached behind him and pulled out a water skin and silently held it out.

Ezra swallowed, and pushed himself upright. He eyed the water-skin being offered, and frowned. Did he think Ezra was an idiot? Tch, unlikely.

The man snorted in faint amusement, and threw the skin into his lap. Ezra caught it with two hands.

"Drink it kid. It ain't poison." His voice was a baritone, and rumbled from deep in his chest with a serious, exotic lit. "S'my job to keep you alive. For now." He added the last part with a grin, showing t'bac stained teeth.

Ezra looked at the water skin, rolling his dry gritty tongue around his mouth. He uncapped the skin and drank, draining it dry. It tasted clean.

He sighed in satisfaction, closing his eyes and revelling in the water trickling through his chest. He was still thirty, but the haze in his head was already starting to clear.

Another weight was thrown into his lap and Ezra fumbled to catch this one. It was a solid roll of cloth.
It unfurled at he held it up. It was a pale grey jumpsuit made of something stiff and uncomfortable.

He looked to the dark man in confusion; who was no longer smiling. He looked bored.

"Take off your things." he told him.

Ezra blanched, tightening his holding the suit. Oh force, please no.

"No way!" Ezra snapped, drawing himself up.

The man blinked, and then slowly got to his feet. At his full height, the tips of his black hair brushed the ceiling.
He reached down and unsheathed a long vibroknife strapped to his thigh.

Ezra swallowed and lead back in his seat.

"Look kid," the man stated, picking at the dirt under his nails with the tip of the knife. "You don't seem to recognize the situation your in. So I'll make it plain. You," he pointed the sharp blade at the centre of Ezra's chest, "Are the property of people who'll have no problems, if I deliver you, minus a few fingers."

Ezra quickly made fists of his hands and the man huffed in amusement.

"Trust me, when I tell you, you'll be better off starting with all your thumbs where your going."

Ezra looked down at the grey jumpsuit, running a thumb over the collar. He liked to keep all his thumbs and fingers.

"So," the man continued, gruff and short. "You will get undressed- or I will undress you and I wont be so gentle. Pick one."

There was a moment of deliberation, and Ezra met his yellow glare evenly.
The dark man didn't even blink, and showed no indication of turning around. The vibroknife clutched casually in his wide hands.

Ezra let out a long breath, and stood up on his unsteady feet.

He picked the most painless option and quickly began to undress.

He kicked off his boots, feeling the cold metal floor under his feet. He stared down at his toes, shifting his weight awkwardly.

"Today, kid" the man growled, turning the knife just so, and the light caught on the tip.

Ezra huffed and turned around, unsure how to begin. He barely undressed in front of Zeb, let alone strangers.

The flight suit came off first, rattling with all his misbegotten misalliance. It was snatched from his hands before the could consider trying to hide anything away in the new suit. He stripped off his gloves, and the shirt and shorts he wore underneath, and handed them over without looking up. He felt a little bit of his cocky attitude peel away with each item, and soon he was left cold and shivering. Unsteady as he tried to climb into the grey suit as quickly as possible.

The new suit had no boots, gloves or even under-things. And Ezra felt rightly naked even with the zipper pulled up to his chin. But at least he had all his fingers.

He sat down heavily on the bench and folded his arms. "What now?" he demanded snarkily, only half wanting an answer.

The man, sank back down onto the bench and pressed a button on the com on his belt.
Ezra watched, confused, as he rolled the orange flight suit rolled up around the boots and gloves into a tight bundle.

"What are-"

A panel in the wall opened and the man tossed the bundle of possessions into the chute before Ezra could finish the thought. He gaped, hand outstretched- but he knew his things were gone.

The man's expression was flat and he pulled out a data pad. "You all organic, Kid?" he demanded dull tone.

Ezra looked between the man, and the panel in the wall as it pulled closed. "I- What?"

"Organic. All your original parts. No augmentations, no cyborg bits." the man repeated, slower like he thought Ezra was thick. "We gotta scan you. Make sure you're not bringing in any... advantages. Makes it easier on yourself if your honest now."

Ezra grimaced. "What kind of advantages?"

The dark man stared are him every, and his voice was dead-panned, completely serious. "The kind that will get you a cavity search."

Ezra's grimace deepened. He did Not want a cavity search.
"No. I'm organic. You can scan me- I won't make any trouble."

The man nodded and leant back in his seat. "That's good. That's what I like to hear. An attitude like that will get you fed. Making my job harder, will only make it harder on yourself. You got that?"

Ezra narrowed his eyes, trying to ignore his stomach's loud whine at the mention of food. "What is your job exactly?"

The guard looked down his broad nose and snorted a hot stream of air. His tone turned serious. "I am a Trainer. You will address me as Sir, or Trainer. Me- and all the others where your going. We make sure you know where your place is and ensure you get a decent shot. You listen, and do as your asked, you'll get your chance. You got that?"

Ezra swallowed hard and turned his eyes down to his shoes and nodded. "Yes- Sir." he added quickly, glancing up at the Trainer.

The Trainer answered with a gruff nod, turning back to his notes. "Now- you know how to use a knife?"

Ezra shook his head, confused.

"A club? Any weapon?" the trainer pressed. "Anything you tell me now might be to your benefit later on, Kid. So if you've got a fighting skill, you should say so."

"I can shoot." Ezra answered tentatively, twisting his mouth in distaste. So they wanted him to know how to fight, was it? That didn't fill him with hope exactly. He wasn't sure just how much he should admit to the man, though he obvious has no intention of mentioning any force usage.

The trainer shook his head. "Usually only one, if any, blasters in each round. They make it too quick, to easy. You can't rely on finding a pistol. You any good at hand to hand?"

Ezra shook his head again and the Trainer huffed irritably and made notes on his data-pad. After a moment of silence, Ezra swallowed, and spoke up.

"I can... use a sword, somewhat." He offered lightly, unsure. The transition from light-blade to metal was obviously a big one- but anything was better then nothing, right? At least he had some form training.

The Trainer looked bemused. "Not many swordsmen nowadays, but if your lucky you might find a long blade in the pit."

"The pit?"

The trainer ignored the question. "You know how to live in the wilds? Know how to find food, water- all that?"

Now it was Ezra's turn to look bemused. "No. Never needed too. I..." he frowned suddenly, thinking of his time on the streets. They wanted survival skills did they? Well he had those in spades. "I can hide." he said firmly, "I can run, and I'm quiet. I can make things and forage. I'll do what I have to do."

The trainer nodded, firmer this time, and after making a few quick marks on the pad, he lifted his yellow eyes to Ezra's.

"That's good. That's what they wanna see."

"They', sir?" Ezra pushed, trying to keep his tone civil.

The Trainer frowned, his bristly moustache pulling down at the corners.

"I'll be plain with you kid, coz you won't be any use if your just standing around with you jaw loose. You've pulled the short straw, and right now, you're headed for one of two places."

Ezra swallowed, leaning forward in his seat, wrapping his arms around his tumbling stomach. "Sir?"

"You'll either be chosen for the final call, or they'll send you to the Gutters for parts."

Ezra felt the bottom drop away from his middle and the fear must have shown on his face, because the Trainer nodded. "Good to see your not as slow as you look kid. Tomorrow morning, your to go in for the pickin'. The makers wanna see how all the candidates mix together. So do whatever you need to to draw attention to yourself - without getting yourself killed. Alright?"

Ezra felt the words washing over him, but he couldn't quite process what he was being told.

"Look, either path, you'll probably end up, cutting through, in a hole." the Trainer continued, "But, at least if you make the call, you'll get yer chance."
He adjusted his sleeve, revealing a gold chronometer on his right wrist. The light caught the face and Ezra saw it was near mid morning. But of which day? The trainer tutted briskly, as if they were running late.

Ezra swallowed hard, trying to steady his trembling hands. "A chance at what, Sir?"

The Trainer's eye narrowed and his wiry lip flattened out. "At surviving, Kid."

Ezra wanted to ask more, he wanted to ask why, and how, and why again.

But the walls choose that moment to shudder and jolted, rocking them in their seats. The man stood, gathering his data-pad under one arm and moved towards the door, where the hatch door hissed and opened out.

"Remember kid," he said shortly over his shoulder, "If you wanna survive, give them a good show. I suggest you get some sleep."

Before Ezra could answer, he turned and disappeared around the doorway. Ezra sat, too blown away by the sequence of events to move.

Two more guards, both humanoid and wearing blue, stepped into sight. One waved him forward. More Trainers, Ezra thought, noting the iron batons hanging from their belts. Ezra stood, and fell into step behind them, at a loss at what else to do.

These Trainers did not seem as willing to talk as the first one had, but Ezra marched along, studying the grey walls. It was odd how the decor did not look all that far from an Imperial base- but the feel of it- the air here didn't carry the same weight.

"What is this place, Sir?" Ezra asked clearly, make sure not to forget the agreeable tone.

A guard behind him sneered and nudged him in the small of the back with the baton.
"The best place for entertainment this side of the outer rim carve up, kid."

"The outer rim carve up?" Ezra repeated, his gut making a hard twist of fear.

He remembered his brief stint involved with the underground fight system, it functioned just under the Empires radar. He thought about the fights on Lothal, brutal and bloody, even the fixed ones.
If this was the next best thing- what chance of survival did he stand in a fight like that?

There was no big bounty hunter here now to clean up this mess. What good would calling attention to himself do here?

He wanted to ask more questions, but the baton was pressing into the small of his back again, and he was so tired. His head hurt.
It had been the longest day of his life.

They reached a corridor of wide steelum doors. All were closed but the one closest, and the Trainer behind him put a hand on his shoulder and shoved Ezra through the doorway, and into a box.

Or, at least it felt like a box.

One trainer snorted to his partner, nudging him jovially in the elbow. "Another one for the blaster fodder."

Ezra turned, insulted more by the Trainers tone then his confusing words, but the door sealed shut with a pressurising hiss.
Ezra straightened, and turned on the spot, scrutinising each blank wall.

Ezra was loath to admit it, but even an Imperial cell had more creature comforts then this box did, and a lot more space.

This cell was a steelum closet, windowless and cold and barley five feet in either direction. A single white light filament was set high up into the wall. The brightness hurt Ezra's eyes for several minutes before he grew accustomed.

The door was a solid wall with no gaps, hinges, or visible locking mechanisms. There was lifting panel with a little ledge a little lower then eye level, that Ezra assumed they would feed him though- or at least he hoped they would. His stomach groaned unhappily again.

It was small, and cramped and he was alone. There was a steelum wall and a bolt locked door between him and everyone else, and he wasn't on his way to the Gutters. Yet.

Since the moment he'd jettisoned his com and his lightsaber, and said his goodbyes to the crew- Ezra felt the most safe he had in days. Though he knew it was barely a passing feeling, he let himself relax and sat down, letting out a long sigh. His muscles unwound and his eyes began to close.

There wasn't much he could do for now. He'd worry in the morning when he could focus on one thought for more then a few seconds at a time. His head was still swimming and his empty gut ached. The cold wall and floor was almost soothing on his aching muscles.

Ezra settled into to wait.

R&R for more chapters and to kick the Ghost crew's butt into gear- like srsly, catch up guys.