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"On your knees."
The voice comes from behind Phasma with no warning, no footsteps or other sounds to announce the arrival of whomever it belongs to.
"And if I don't?" she answers, inching her fingers towards her blaster, holstered on her hip.
"Then I'll remove your head from your shoulders." The voice is as hard as durasteel, and Phasma knows a real threat when she hears it, so she drops to the ground, knee plates thudding loudly when they strike the floor. Her attacker steps out from behind her, face illuminated by the soft blue glow of a lightsaber.
"Remember me?"
"The scavenger," Phasma replies smoothly. "The one who bested Kylo Ren." The girl looks different now; her hair is longer, the line of her body is straight and true, and her teeth are set into a snarl. The unwavering tip of her lightsaber hovers in front of Phasma's helmet.
"Is that what they say about me in the First Order?" Phasma nods.
"They also say you're a Jedi."
"It's true." The lightsaber rises to the level of Phasma's eye. "You're going to take me to Kylo Ren."
"Why would I do that?" Phasma asks. The words barely leave her mouth before pain lances through her cheek as the lightsaber stabs through her helmet and into her skin.
"Because I'll do that again. Next time, it'll hurt more."
The girl's lightsaber may be blue but, if what Phasma has heard about the Jedi is true, red would suit her better.