PROMPT POST #6- CLOSED

[themodawakens]

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Comments

FILL: Choking on the Truth (1/3) [Kylux - Choking - dubcon]

[(Anonymous)]

The First Order didn’t form at the battle-lines. Any historian worth his grain of salt would know that, had anyone begun writing the history of the First Order. Only a handful of people would be able to tell you that it started in the Unknown Regions, where the Imperialists fled after their untimely defeat. They were a political force before they became a military force.

General Hux wasn’t born a General. He had his childhood, no matter how short-lived the innocence and carefree lifestyle existed. Then came his Academy days. If there had been any time spent on socialization even he was hard pressed to remember those times. Most of his days were spent studying, training and studying still.

And before all Generals become Generals they were Lieutenants.

Lieutenant Hux wasn’t pleased.

Anyone who ever met Hux would’ve thought the man was incapable of being pleased. His expression was normally indifferent or stuck somewhere between eating something sour or smelling piss. They were more inclined to talk about him rather than talk to him, or at least beyond the required minimum to exchange business communications, which was just fine with the Lieutenant himself. He didn’t care for everyone’s tendency to gossip or socialize, not when he was too busy.

And that was why he wasn’t pleased.

General Ima was… something of a special sort. The man behind the helm of Exclusion was a military genius, there was no questioning that. He was responsible for taking down more Republic ships under the guise of navigation failure and communications cutting out. Lands were soundlessly brought under First Order control.

Unfortunately he was a bureaucratic nightmare. If and when the man was required to open his mouth, in a social or political setting, left alone he would wind up with both feet in his mouth and going ass backwards in more ways than one. Handling of delegates, military officials and Imperial and First Order sentimentalists and loyalists was normally delegated to a general from one of the other starships, if it was a matter of superiority and anyone high enough in the First Order hierarchy had knowledge and access to the subject. If it was a matter specifically dealing with Ima or the Exclusion then the responsibility more often than not fell upon Hux’s shoulders, since he was most familiar with Ima’s paperwork and all of his communications, on- and off-ship.

Familiar was an understatement. Hux was responsible for all the paperwork, his own and Ima’s. Between his duties and Ima’s paperwork and communications he didn’t have time for socializing. Nor did he want or care to socialize. He was aware of and worked alongside his immediate superiors and fellow officers. His dislike of small talk meant he had more time to work during lunch, left alone in the mess hall, his datapad cycling through messages, spreadsheets, documents and whatever other files were being sent to him or Ima.

Had he not been at his normal level of engrossed in work, he might’ve been aware of the gossip going around about new arrivals. Had it been something official he would’ve received a message on the matter. Had the gossip been announced more than an hour previously he would’ve been alerted by fellow officers. Even they hadn’t heard and all arrivals went through them if not Ima himself.

Then again, considering the message had come straight through to Ima’s comm while the man was still asleep (at 1100 hours no less), none of it was surprising.

Finishing up his lunch, depositing it in the nearest waste bin as he made his way to the exit, Hux kept writing on his datapad, forwarding a message to the lucky general in question who would be handling Ima’s skipped dalliance. This was a common sight, the young officer walking through the corridors, eyes locked on the screen and making enough of an effort to not walk into anyone else that it never happened. As a gesture of kindness, or not wanting to risk provoking his anger, everyone gave him extra space as a precaution. Everyone on the Exclusion knew as much.

So when two figures walked full on into each other, one of them being Hux, everyone stopped and stared. Openly horrified but also greatly curious of the man cloaked in black.

A sound like the safety of a blaster being lifted escaped the helmet, except hoarse and grating. The low words that followed would’ve been a grumble but were surprisingly amplified. “Move out of the way.”

Hux huffed under his breath, gaze not even looking up from his work. “Look where you’re going.” He shouldered past the other man, the voice suggested as much, fingers not faltering for a second.

Except next thing he knew the datapad flew out of his hand with nary a touch, until the moment it landed in the other man’s hand. “You should look where you’re going,” the man corrected.

Straightening fully, pleased that the man wasn’t that much taller than himself, Hux stared him in his… viewport. Damn that was annoying. Normally he could stare down anyone. “Give me back my datapad.”

“Not until you apologise.”

“For what, not yielding to a walking garburator?”

The stranger flexed his hand, hanging uselessly at his side. “That is unwise.”

“Says the man who doesn’t know how to walk and look at the same time.” Hux huffed again, giving the man a once over. “Who doesn’t even know how to find his own ship. Did you take a wrong turn at Jakku? You must’ve missed your escape pod.”

When the other man dropped his datapad to the ground Hux leapt forward. He was pleasantly surprised that his jab to the stomach didn’t deflect off of more scrap metal, even pulling a surprised wheeze of breath out of the stranger. Victory was short lived, a wheeze drawn from his own lips when pressure seized down on his throat. An unseen pressure but which mirrored the hand that the stranger raised, fingers tightening around open air, though the grip around his neck intensified.

Hux kicked out, solidly hitting his kneecap on the way up to being hoisted. It was as though strings controlled him, lifting and flinging him up against the wall, once two Stormtroopers dashed out of the way.

You are more red than your own hair.

Gaze spiteful on the man who loomed forward widened, recognizing the voice that echoed in his head as the same one that spoke from out of the helmet.

His strength may have been fading but Hux felt confident that the hold around his neck was more than strong enough to hold him up. It was more than adequate for the past fifteen seconds. It took a few seconds to recognize the shape of an arm underneath the cloak and grabbed hold above and below the elbow. Hux twisted his grip in both directions, growling more than gasping as his windpipe was crushed more.

He was more disappointed than relieved when they were pulled apart. At least after the point they both landed on the floor, reverting to grappling with each other. It took a while for the grip on his throat to be released, a second after a snap sounded and an unnatural bend shifted the positions of his hands.

He was hauled up to his feet seconds later, two petty officers grabbing each arm. It gave the other man the perfect chance to lunge up, punching him in his face.

Hux stomped down on his foot, useless upon the thick boot, but the knee that coiled up caught him in the stomach, tumbling him back into the arms of two more black-clad men.

“Everyone, get back to work!” It wasn’t General Ima yelling to the stragglers watching the scene but a fellow lieutenant.

“Give me back my datapad.” Hux rasped out, cringing at his voice. “I’ve got work to do.”

The lieutenant looked between the two parties, to the man who clearly had a broken arm, and to Hux’s face, lip split and blood staining teeth and chin. Suppressing a grin at the last second she nodded to the officers holding Hux. “Take Lieutenant Hux to the medbay. I’m sure our… guests have their own methods for first aid.”

The other man strained forward, making for the two smirking lieutenants.

Needless to say his first meeting with the Knights of Ren didn’t go over well.