THE HUNT

Twenty Seven

"So," The man holds his blaster to my chest. "Do you know who I am?" I narrow my eyes at him behind my mask.

Poe Dameron. I think. I looked up to you in flight class.

Of course he turned out to be a killer.

"Pilot." I manage, grateful for the distortion in my voice.

    "Right, yeah." He angles his head. "You ever heard of Hunter Horne?"

    Crap.

    "You had her killed." I say, trying to ignore the twinge of pain and anger in my chest. "She's dead."

    "It was necessary, I'm sure you understand." He nods, as if convincing himself. "A shame."

    "She would never have given up your secrets." I snap.

    "She's dead now. It doesn't matter." He tightens his finger on the trigger, and the gun clicks. "I'm more interested in what you can do for me." He pauses, pushing me down a hallway. More stormtroopers rush past. "She said you're with us?"

    Rage fills me, and I can only laugh. He frowns.

    "You're truly ridiculous. I can't believe she had faith in you until the end." I say, encouraging the narrative of my death.

    "Are you with us?" He pushes the blaster harder into my chest. A threat.

    "Not anymore."

    I shove my knee upwards and into his stomach. He coughs, keeling over. His blaster fires, but hits my cloak. I knock the weapon from his hand, pressing my boot into his chest.

"Who are you?" He wheezes. "You're no Resistance fighter."

His eyes catch on something behind me, and I duck, turning. A blaster shot pierces the air where I had just been standing. I reach for my staff, stomach dropping as I realize that Dameron threw it aside when he took me.

"Don't even try." I snap, hoping to intimidate the man behind me. He only tightens his grip on the blaster, eyes narrowing.

    "Poe, are you okay?" He asks, not looking towards the man, who I know stands slowly behind me.

    "Yeah. I'm good." He steps into view, hooking his fingers under my mask, trying to pull it off. I don't dare move as he tugs for a moment, then gives up. "Take off your helmet."

    "I can't breathe without it." I lie. Poe grabs my hand, pulling off one of my gloves. My pale skin is a sharp contrast to his tan fingers.

    "You look human, Zilla." The man holding the blaster says. I hesitate. "Take off your mask."

    "No." The blaster is against the metal covering my face. I flinch. If he shoots, it will go straight through my temple.

    "Finn-" Poe hesitates. Then he steps back with a slow nod.

    "Last chance." He grits out. I say nothing, bracing myself.

    "Oh please." A filtered voice, female, says. Massif walks around the corner, blaster trained on his back. "You have no intention of pulling that trigger, trooper." The man, Finn, turns sharply.

    "I'm not a stormtrooper. Not anymore." Massif shrugs.

    "You can't ever escape the First Order. Not truly." As she speaks, I grab Poe, who yelps as I wrap my arm around his neck. "Drop your weapon, FN-2187, or the pilot dies." She orders. Reluctantly, the former stormtrooper raises his hands, lowering himself to the ground to place the blaster down. "Good job." She dips her chin to me. "Ren will be pleased." My heart pounds, and I nod back to her.

    Several stormtroopers clatter down the hall, blasters pointed at the Resistance soldiers.

    She gestures for me to release the pilot, and I do, stepping up to her.

    "Thank you." I mutter as the stormtroopers take them prisoner.

    "I didn't do it for you." She snaps, turning. The two men are dragged behind her by the soldiers. I stand silently, watching.

    Who did she do it for, then?

    After a moment, I step into a room, sliding to the ground as I deactivate my mask. It's hard to breathe, and I press a hand to my chest.

    I was right. He ordered Marc to kill me.

    Then why did they come?

    "Hunter?" The door slides open, and Ren kneels in front of me. "The battle is over. We won." I nod, giving him a thumbs up as I gasp for air. His hands are on my shoulders, grip tight. "Hey, stay with me." He touches my face, and I flinch. "We have them in custody, you did good." He says calmly. "They're high-ranking Resistance members."

    "Yay." I manage to wheeze.
 
    "Hunter, look at me." He says softly. "You're having a panic attack."

    "Oh wow." I hold a hand to my head, closing my eyes. "That's not good."

    Breathe. Breathe.

    This is so embarrassing.

    An announcement blares over the intercom for every stormtrooper to head to their barracks so there can be an official count of casualties. Ren curses, grabbing my arm. I look up at him, and he brushes his thumb along my cheekbone.

    "Don't cry, Hunter." He assures me. "Stand up, sweetheart. This is an officer's room. They'll be returning shortly." I nod, letting him pull me to my feet. "Alright." He reaches behind my ear, activating my helmet before we step into the hall. It wraps around my face and the back of my head. The closeness is somehow comforting. "Now as we walk, I need you to count your steps, okay Hunter?" He pulls up my hood, and I nod. "Great." He folds his hand around mine. "I won't let go. I promise."