conflictedheart | The Hunter and the Hunted

The Hunter and the Hunted

He wasn't certain what was worse - the cold or the burning. Maybe they were feeding into one another, at this point, he wasn't sure. His face and shoulder burned, his side burned, but the rest of him was cold. The snow, a logical part of his mind reminded him, but it was a far away concept right now. It wasn't just his body broken down from the fight against a traitor and a scavenger, not to mention that damned Wookie's blast to his abdomen, but his pride, and his energy, were stripped to nearly nothing.

The planet rumbled around him, a deep bass sound that echoed around in his skull, but even as the ground quaked in the world's death throes, there was no strength left in him to get up and continue. He had given the last of it to that fight, and now he was paying for pushing his body so hard. He would pay with his life, for he knew the planet wouldn't have long.

As the cold started to seep in further, replacing the burning, his mind replayed over what had happened so shortly before, despite everything in him that didn't want to think on what he had done. He had done what Snoke hadn't believed him ready for; he had destroyed the source of the Light that plagued him deep within. Yet... he could not deny what he had felt in those last moments, at the lone truly affectionate touch he had in so many years, at the hand of the father who he had forsaken. Killed. Even as he succeeded, he had failed.

The tear that fell was nothing against the pain of the burn across his face, eyes closed as he waited for the end to come.

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Hux has no reservations about handing Kylo Ren off to the medical team when they disembark. He has minimal training, the barest to get by if need be. The Jedi Killer needed something more serious, else he was going to bleed out or his wound become infected. As soon as the aggravating man has been placed in the med team's care, he sweeps off towards the bridge, to command the ship to their next coordinates. Starkiller is in shambles, ready to implode at any moment now. Not waiting until he gets to his post, a chain of orders are given through the commlink directly.

They're to head towards the Supreme Leader. It will be some time, even making a hyperspace jump.

There's a fluttering of dread in the pit of his stomach as he even thinks about meeting Snoke. This was a failure. He was a failure, on some level. Ren, of course, was the worst off of them all, though that does not give him as much joy as it might've in the past.

Grimacing, he steps onto the command bridge, ensuring everything is proceeding with the minimal amount of chaos possible. And in the aftermath of his life's work being destroyed, he's doing quite well. Dimly, he's aware that he's exhausted, a humming pain of a headache settling behind his eyes. No rest for those who seek glory. Or safety, as it were. Hux is beginning to feel like things are handled, maybe even a sliver of normal when he gets a message from the medical staff.

A situation. Of course.

He leaves Captain Yrin in charge, giving strict orders to stay on course. Furiously, he heads towards where Kylo Ren is likely pitching some kind of fit. Which indeed, on his arrival to medbay, seems to be the case. His anger has only grown and by the time the doors to the Jedi Killer's room slide open, he's ready to murder with a look.

"Lord Ren, would you care to explain why I'm having off-duty medical staff come attend to the on-duty shift?"

Dark, dark eyes turn on Hux as he spoke, unafraid of the anger in the General's voice. No longer that very youthful face that needed a mask to keep that mysterious dark warrior aura focused around him, the wound across was an ugly thing that had barely missed his eye and gave him a look that more matched the darkness he tried to allude to in his every action. The new wound and the anger simmering in those eyes both helped.

"Because your on-duty shift refused to listen to their patient," Ren all but growled; he was in no mood to deal with the General or anyone else for that matter. His mood was as low as it could have been, as low as any had seen it which had left the medical crew in even more of an anxious state. No one wanted to be killed.

Still, with his upper chest bare, Hux would see that he had been wounded at the shoulder, side, and face along with a surprising amount of older scars - the thin white lines of blade slices, the gnarled white flesh of burns, the ragged lines of questionable origin. A warrior's body, and now one weakened by its injuries.

That's the crux of the situation, isn't it? Neither one of them is afraid of the other. Ideal on many fronts but in this case, something that's only been hurting them in the long run. A healthy dose of fear or at least some more respect would probably help the both of them.

Unfortunately that's not the case. Hux is furious with the—in his very important opinion—idiot sitting up in the medical bed. Why does he have to deal with someone who doesn't even want to be attended to? Resisting the urge to roll his eyes (or break something), he stands up a little straighter at the sweeping glare from Kylo Ren.

"On duty staff was following my direct orders." He starts in, expression starting to darken and return gaze particularly icy. "I can see that even in your compromised state you still refuse to, so I'll repeat myself for this occasion: I don't care what your obsession with pain is, let medical do their job or I'll have them knock you out for the duration of our trip."

For just a moment, there was the faintest widening of Ren's eyes as he stared at Hux and the fact that the man had dared to threaten him, far more than the typical that he had grown used to in their time forced to serve together on the Finalizer. That surprise that might have been a score for the General turned into rage only after a heartbeat or two. A rage that flared up in his eyes as they narrowed, the jerk of his hand as power lashed out, licking around Hux's throat.

"No matter my injuries, how dare you threaten me!" Without the mask, the voice was so very different in its promised threaten in kind, but unlike the calm that Ren liked to try and convey that made his threats so much more likely to stick, this was full of anger as unstable and red as his destroyed lightsaber.

He didn't stand, but his hand did tighten as his breathing picked up.

He'll dare to do whatever he wants. The Finalizer is still his ship, he's still the General, even in the face of everything else having collapsed around him. Maybe this is just his way of holding onto his title, his power. To keep control from being wrested from him.

Briefly, so briefly, the shocked look on Ren's face is absolutely worth it. There's a strange thrill of triumph. It doesn't last long though and he can feel the beginning of the Force pressing against his throat. A threat if there ever was one.

"If you'd allowed medical to do their jobs to begin with, Lord Ren, I wouldn't need to." The last of his words are strangled, the pressure closing in. Hux can feel the beginnings of panic set in and it's difficult to fight against what his body naturally wants to do.

"Do not presume to give me orders," Ren snapped, then with a final snort like a raging bull, released his grip on Hux and allowed his hand to drop. He would show no signs of his weakness, nor of the fact that it had cost him to even perform that single act with the uncertainty of his control. He needed time to meditate, to refocus his will, his understanding, and his goals.

Killing Solo had not removed that feeling of the Light within him, and it confused him as much as it enraged him. On top of that, what should have been his greatest triumph had become his greatest failure, and in turn, had been compounded by being defeated by two untrained fools.

Hux had failed as well. Heard through the murmurings of the medical staff, through what he had been able to glean before, the Resistance had won. They had managed to destroy the great weapon of the First Order, but not before it had been fired. It had brought huge destruction to the New Republic, but Ren still thought it a foolish notion all together. They would come together again, angry and ready to fight, instead of merely the Resistance. The two feuding sides might see a more common enemy than each other.

Snoke would not be happy with either of them.

He takes too deep of a breath when he's released, oxygen rushing in and causing him to cough, almost choking again on the sensation of being able to breathe. There will be no fingerprints, but he feels like they're there all the same. A phantom pain. One gloved hand comes up to his throat, rubbing where he'd felt the most pressure. The eyes of the medical staff are on him, frightened around the edges and waiting to see what he does.

Clearing his throat, he resumes his imperious stare at Kylo Ren, not willing to be intimidated even in the face of being choked on his own ship.

"Then stop getting to a point where I need to." This is ridiculous. It should be common sense. Cooperate with medical and be on your way. Except that seems to be such a difficult task– he wants to scream. Hux already has enough stress to deal with in the face of Starkiller being destroyed. He's spent what little time he's had to think about his words to Snoke. To consider the best course of action.

He's even gone so far as to think about the repercussions the Force user will be met with. It doesn't seem like either of them will be let off easy. Though, he's mostly concerned with getting out alive. Ren seems to be too valuable to be disposable and it's a fact that grates on his nerves.

In the back of his mind, he can feel their fear, the tremble on the air as the medical staff wonders who might be next if even their General isn't feared and no, he doesn't. He doesn't fear any of Hux's threats or anything the man could do, no, not when they would have to report to someone who can truly hurt both of them. He took a slow breath, wanting nothing more than to be alone right now and deal with the pain in his own way rather than the painkillers and sedatives that he knew the medical staff wanted to pump into his veins. His head needed to be clear; he needed to replay and understand what happened. How he had failed. How he would go before Snoke to explain any of this.

"Tell your staff to go." The voice is nothing more than a growl, edged with exhaustion and tight with pain. "You're not helping, either." Their snarking had always been a form of entertainment while waiting for news on Skywalker or the few Jedi that might remain, but right now everything felt like it was grating on his own last, raw nerve.

"Out." Hux wastes no time on getting the medical staff to leave. At least, for now. They go happily, rushing past him, off to their other assignments. Relieved to be out of the same room as Kylo Ren, no doubt about it. However, he won't bend to the other man's will so easily. Glancing back, he taps the control panel, hearing the satisfactory swish as the door closes.

"Just because you want to suffer tragically does not give you permission to terrorize my staff, Lord Ren." He takes several steps closer to the man, stopping just short of the one side.

"I'm not expecting thanks for dragging you off the collapsing planet when I could've left you there to die, but I would appreciate your cooperation."

So that was how he ended up here. Ren's teeth grit as he thought about it, knowing Hux would hold it over his head for some time, just as he was doing now. Of all people to see him at his lowest, Hux rated near the top for the most frustrating and most embarrassing. Damn.

"I'm somewhat surprised you would make the effort," Ren said tightly, though it occurred to him that if Hux had left him to die, Snoke would well know quickly enough and been everything less than pleased. He wouldn't let that comment about suffering get under his skin, he wouldn't-

"It has nothing to do with being tragic!" Too late. "I want my head clear, not muddied up with painkillers." At least he kept it from being a snarl as he watched the red haired General closely.

It's underhanded, he knows, to throw such a fact in Ren's face. Watching the other man's reaction gives him no pleasure. Nothing about this situation does. In fact, his anger simmers, boils, reaching a breaking point.

For someone who has never been an actual battle, Hux moves quickly, his hand whipping out and curling into the front of Kylo Ren's medical-issue smock. Leather from his gloves creak with the pressure and he leans in, every line in his expression etched with a cold fury.

"Let me make this perfectly clear. I do not care what you want, Lord Ren. Supreme Leader has given me strict orders to bring you to him alive and I will do everything in my power to ensure you're in one piece when you stand before him."

Another point to Hux when his breaking anger took Ren by surprise, leaving the dark warrior momentarily stunned while listening to the distinct threat being snapped against him, eyes wide in the fact that any man would dare to touch him in this fashion, would have the gall to speak to him as such. Given though that if any man would, it would be Hux, but he wasn't going to take that for a moment. His surprise was burned away in the face of his however momentary indignity, the anger that always simmered just beneath the surface.

Pale fingers came up and wrapped brutally tight around the wrist of the hand holding him, holding nothing back as his thumb dug into the soft veins and tight tendons of the underside of the wrist. His words in return matched in tone to the General's, but there was nothing about Kylo Ren that was cold. His anger was always fiery hot, meant to sear and scald and burn in its path. "I have no such orders to make sure you do the same," he said in threat, staring Hux in the eye. His nerves thrummed with the rush of anger-adrenaline, Hux close enough he could make out every detail of his face, smell him as he leaned in to bring their faces closer together.

The cocky little cardinal that had dared to insult him before the Supreme Leader. He would make Hux pay for the loss of face many times over.

There's something deeply satisfying about surprising the Force user. It's, he thinks, in the fact that Ren can literally read his mind. Has probably done so on multiple occasions. So to hold something over the other man is a gift in itself. Though, the shock melts, expression darkening and Hux knows it's anger. Knows there's going to be a retaliation of some kind.

This is who they are. Two men vying for power and a similar goal but disagreeing on the method. Fingers curl around his wrist (he's certain it will bruise) and they dig into flesh, bone. Even if he wanted he can't pull away and he's faced with the scorching fury from Ren.

"Try it and see where it gets you, Lord Ren." They've failed together and if Ren decides he's going to maim or murder him, well, he supposes he'd be spared the disappointment of Snoke. It's fatalistic, he knows– with the destruction of Starkiller, it's difficult to keep his head up.

In the beginning, he had. He had skimmed over the mind of the prim and proper General who had aggravated him and dared to try and order him around like a common trooper and quickly discovered two things: one that for someone without the Force, Hux had a surprisingly tight, closed off mind and two that his surface thoughts were so strict and exactly what he expected that for the most part, they were boring. Only on occasion, when Hux started himself into one of his more fevered pitches, did anything of interest come up. Then there was a seething rage, a burning pride, a rankled ego that were much more fun to turn around on the man.

Yet he had never gone deeper. He wouldn't think of himself with any kind of respect for Hux, no.

"Every man and woman on this ship could rise up in your defense, little General, and that still would be no threat." There was absolute certainty in Ren's threat, one that allowed him to make it without blinking or hesitation. His thumb dug in harder, and his order was as precise as anything Hux had given his troops. "Let. Go." If Hux released his garment, he would release the wrist under his fingers.

"You think not?" His arrogance, Hux is finding, has become taxing. Coldly, he glares into Ren's face, lip curling with the insinuation that Kylo Ren would destroy his troops. Fine then. If this is how he was going to be.

Slowly, he releases the other man, fingers uncurling from the fabric. The dig in his wrist is more noticeable now and he's sure it's going to leave a deep bruise. Figures, can't even get through a conversation with the Force-user without him flying off the handle. This is how he's repaid.

"I suppose if you want to be a masochist about it all. Don't blame anyone but yourself if the pain drives you mad."

[ooc: Oh my god I just noticed your 'name' beside your icon. /cracking up]

Matching Hux in speed, Ren's fingers release Hux's wrist, feeling the flex of tendons as he does so against his fingers until he drops his hand back into his lap. His tone changes as he does, leaning back against the wall and giving Hux a look that burns under dark curls. "If you think this pain is enough to drive me mad, you are sorely mistaken." No, he has suffered worse in the past, but trying to explain the details to Hux is both fruitless and unwelcomed.

"Have you come to berate me for my lack of pain killers, or is there a reason?" His eyes clearly slide up and down Hux's body, checking the General for any signs of damage. Seems like most likely, the other survived the destruction with minimal issue except for the wound to his pride. Doesn't even sound like a loss of confidence; Ren wonders if his men that remain feel the same.

[ ehehehe it's 2 true ]

Stupid, he's decided.

Kylo Ren is an idiot. A masochistic one at that. If this is something he's supposed to suffer through for his training, Hux finds it to be lacking. He doesn't understand the Force or the Dark Side or all this mystical nonsense. It's precisely that to him: nonsense. As it is, he barely sleeps– he doesn't have time for this.

Some part of him wonders if it's Snoke who demands this of Ren or if the other man has twisted it in a way. Or maybe it's entirely his own way. If it comes from Snoke, he lets the indiscretion slide even less. In order to hone a weapon, one doesn't continually push it to the breaking point. Sharpening a tool takes time and care and effort. There shouldn't be a reason for this.

But then, that's his failing here, isn't it? He's a creature of logic and none of this conforms.

"You were terrorizing my crew, in case you'd forgotten in the last span of minutes. Whatever issues you have, you can take them up with me first. Is that clear?" He has a damn ship to run and re-hiring competent staff is difficult.

"Moreover, I won't have Leader Snoke blaming me for your pain or your possible death from a wound like that."

He knew his training as much as Hux knew what he had been raised on. Every Knight took care of their own wounds unless absolutely unable to do otherwise, and each learned early on how to survive and concentrate on the pain that might torture a lesser man. They were to rise above it, to use the natural reactions of the body to clear their mind and focus on what was more important. Use the adrenaline to fuel a fight, as a natural pain killer, to fuel their anger. He could count on one hand the amount of times that he had been to a state where he had to be patched up by someone other than his own hand, and each time left him with anger and a shattered ego that he rebuilt. Even with his wound, he should have been able to handle the traitor and the scavenger. As far as he knew, the traitor was dead, as he should be, but her. How was she capable of such things with no training? Who was she?! It infuriated him and had been the subject of his looping thoughts... along with what would come as a price for his failure to keep her.

Ren snorted rudely, hardly cared. "He will hardly blame you for my pain." No, the blame would solely be on himself. A part of the price of his pathetic failure. "Your medical staff has handled the wound enough. I won't die from it." His head shifted, just enough to run his gaze over Hux again. "Be careful, General. It almost sounds like you were worried."

Isn't that too bad, he thinks a bit viciously at his medical staff being good at their jobs and fixing Ren up. It's somewhat childish, but the thought only lasts for a moment before he brushes it off for being anger-driven and useless. Though, it does seem like Kylo Ren once again fails to see the big picture. Once again is being some overdramatic Sith in training.

Hux resists the urge to shake him.

"The Supreme Leader tasked me with retrieving and bringing you to him, Lord Ren. As you've probably noticed, he doesn't take well to failures." He doesn't mention that he also doesn't allow himself to fail either. Even if most of him wanted to leave Ren in the snow, he's duty bound enough that he never would.

"I'd much rather not swap places and walk in your shoes, in that regard." After all, he's worried about pretty much one thing and that's keeping himself on top of his game. One day, he'll hold more power. One day, he won't have to think about this, won't have to keep checking to make sure Ren hasn't chewed his leash straight through.

(But maybe, maybe he was concerned about the welfare of this person who tries and tries and tries despite the odds being stacked against him).

That was new information. A dark brow rose at learning it, debating on the idea. If Snoke was beyond angry with him, he very well could have left him to perish on the collapsing planet-turned-weapon, but perhaps it equally meant their Great Leader wanted to punish him himself. The latter seemed more likely. Perhaps losing the girl meant less to him than his success with Solo. Not that losing to the traitor and the girl would go unpunished, but just maybe things could be handled.

"You've retrieved me and are bringing me to him, I presume, so you've followed your commands." Like a dog on a leash, forever bound by the restraints of the First Order and his own pride. Hux was often incredibly predictable in how he would respond to a situation, though he did occasionally manage to catch him off-guard. Maybe that was part of why he enjoyed returning the favor ten-fold.

Still, he watched Hux carefully, then snorted again. "I would be more worried about your own hide." But even the fact that Hux had been sent to collect him was an interesting one, leaving him again with two different possibilities. Either the General's failure had been taken in stride (he imagined still would be punished severely for) or Master Snoke wished to punish him in person. So, cautiously, Ren relented a step. "Neither of us have a place to be envied when we arrive."

This is true. Neither of them are to be envied. Hux has taken great care to think about it. To try and suss out what punishment may await him when they come to Snoke. He isn't a particularly imaginative person, but having dealt in strategy so long means he understands how to inflict pain. How to belittle someone. How to cut them down with only words and nothing more. Leader Snoke has more than that at his disposal, and he shudders at the thought.

Normal people shouldn't be caught in the pull of the Force. It's not right.

"You even less so." That much was probably true. The scar that runs across Ren's face is proof enough of this, he thinks. "I did what I set out to do. It was a failing of holding back certain members of the Resistance that caused Starkiller to crumble."

His words are delivered near-monotone, no inflection even if he feels the failure sit heavy on his shoulders. But to betray that would mean weakness.

"There is something I managed to accomplish that you would never understand, something that was long over due, regardless of the remainder of the situation." He still felt it, the moment when his blade erupted from the hilt where he and his father both touched, the faint hum as it went up his arm, the heat and glow of the crimson energy that went through and finally delivered to his father as much pain as had been given to him.

Beyond the bandage across his face, trying to keep the wounded flesh healing as smooth as possible despite the burn, Ren studied Hux for a time before giving a rude snort. "Really? Is that the line you plan to deliver to the Great Leader? I'm sure he'll take to that concept fantastically well."

"I see." He doesn't. Because while Ren is saying he accomplished something, Hux has his doubts. The other man looks worse for wear and not just from the grievous wound or the gash running across his face. Paler, maybe. More fragile, though he would never say as much. Ren's problems are (mostly) his own.

Staring at him flatly, he doesn't even deign to raise an eyebrow for the question.

"Of course not. I don't take issue with being straightforward with all of the reasons, including any that may have come from my oversight." In other words: he takes his responsibility very seriously.

He knew Hux didn't and ignored the 'I see' all together as the bantha fodder it was, taking a slow, deep breath and feeling everything down his side ache in complaint. They said it would take time for the bones themselves to heal up and they might never be quite right again, the scar would be an ugly one even with everything they had done to keep it from being so. He had listened, then snarled for them to get out. He didn't want or need their pity. Scars were that of a battle fought and survived; any warrior would, and should, carry them. Yet he had to look upon his own face and know how badly the damage there had been done.

"Mm." A flat sound, watching the General for a long moment before looking away. "He may call us apart or separately. Privacy or humiliation." The snort that followed said much because he knew it had an almost equal chance to be both as much as either.

They're both sidestepping that topic. Kylo Ren, he can tell, is dismissing it entirely– well, it only makes sense. Hux would never understand the ins and outs of such things. So there's no further point in discussing it.

As the other man speaks up, he tries to hold his gaze, to see if there's something he can find there. Some kind of answer. Normally, he's not a very nervous person, but with the veritable blade hanging above their heads, he can't help it.

"Judging from how poor both of our results were. Are. I have doubts he'll be willing to grant us peace through a private session." Humiliation is a driving factor in how much they compete with each other. Suffer enough shame and it roots itself in a strange sort of ambition. Do better than the other, always. Don't go through that all over again. Too bad they're both on the chopping block here.

(He has no illusions that he'll be the one kept, if it comes to eliminating the "weaker link").

"We'll be facing his wrath together, most likely."

Funny, because Ren thought very much the same. Clearly he would be the one kept if something should happen to need to push the other to that new height. He was Snoke's pupil and even though Hux so obviously dismissed it, there had been an accomplishment that day. Then again, he thought to himself as he watched the other and their eyes met, eliminating the home of the New Republic had done much the same.

"Unfortunately," Ren murmured with a displeased agreement in his tone, "you're probably correct." Neither would be given that dignity and it would hurt them that much more, drive spikes deep into already wounded egos, even as much as it would give them another push forward... if either of them survived. "Yet..." He hesitated, brows knitting as he became momentarily more thoughtful. "He could have told you to remain and sink with your ship, or left me behind. He chose for us to come to him."

There had to be a reason he wanted them still alive beyond his own dark pleasure in killing them, Ren was certain of it.

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The Hunter and the Hunted

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My phone tag didn't go through >.< Sorry! Was wondering why there was no response... gdi.

it happens to the best of us smh phone behave pls

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gomen this week has been something else

No worries <3

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