Chapter Text
It would seem Thrawn had better ideas than letting him escape or simply killing him after the failed battle over Atollon. He’d been haphazardly thrown into a cell as soon as things seemed to be going south for the Empire.
Kallus was somewhat glad that that had happened. It meant there was still a chance that some of the rebellion might escape. And that he might not be wholly responsible for them being ‘wiped out’ because of his ignorance.
How long had Thrawn known that he was Fulcrum? How long has he no doubt been feeding him false information? How hadn’t Kallus known?
The agent groaned. He was uncomfortably curled up in a corner of the cell, his rebroken leg stretched out in front of him. Every part of his body seemed to echo some form of pain. His head pounded, his split lip stung, his arms ached and his chest shot angry jabs of pain through his spine. It would seem his meagre breast plate had done nothing to protect his ribs from Thrawn’s attacks. Leaving him with most likely some very broken ribs.
But the worst of it was no doubt is leg. It pulsed with searing hot pain, way worse than the first time. Well maybe at least. This time his adrenaline had worn off too quickly and he didn’t quite have to fight for his life with a Lasat at his side. So he had nothing to focus on apart from the splitting pain and the guilt that this was all his fault.
He’d led Thrawn to their base and would be the cause of so many deaths. He’d failed as Fulcrum, just as he’d failed before. It was no different, Empire, Republic, Rebellion, it all ended the same. With soldiers dying believing they were in the right.
Kallus startled when a sob wracked his body and sent pulses of pain through it. He hadn’t even realised there were tears running down his face. But now he was overwhelmingly aware of the fact that he was in fact crying, or more so the fact that it was making his ribs stab into him. He couldn’t stop though. The muffled sobs just kept coming no matter how hard he tried to hold them back. He was shaking now as well. Feeling lost and helpless as he tried to focus on his hands curled on his chest through his blurry eyes.
He was vaguely aware that he was going into some form of shock as it continued. His breaths were coming in shallow and fast between sobs and he felt nausea creeping up his throat. The pain didn’t help much either, each movement he made sending shocks of agony through him. And he felt dizzy and lightheaded as his vision blotted out with black and white spots. So eventually he fell into the pit of unconscious.
When he woke up it was to searing pain as he was dragged out of his cell by two storm troopers. His vision wouldn’t focus and all he could do was whimper and cry out. Time must’ve eluded him for a couple of minutes because before he could fully process being out of his cell he was thrown forward. He screamed as the action jarred his leg, his vision whiting out.
Kallus’s mind only came back into focus at the sound of hollow chuckling above him. He managed to open his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of Thrawn’s ugly blue face.
“Well there Agent Kallus, seems you’re enjoying the consequences of your actions.”
Kallus didn’t have to open his eyes to see the sadistic grin that pulled at the grand admiral’s features. He decide to ignore the words, rather biting down on his lip and trying to focus through the agony spiking up his leg.
Thrawn didn’t seem to care much for his response as he continued, “Good thing you don’t need to be standing for this to work. You just have to float around as helpless as you are and wait for your rebel friends to come fetch you.”
There were bites of frustration filtering into his voice even through the tone of satisfaction from seeing Kallus in pain. And that fact registered more quickly to Kallus than the actual words Thrawn had said. If he was frustrated that meant he lost right? Kallus barely held back a sigh of relief at that thought. Somehow the Rebels had managed to escape alive. But then the rest of Thrawn’s words set in.
Thrawn was making a trap out of him. Kallus opened his eyes at that realisation, only to see Thrawn standing above him with a smirk pulling slightly at his lips.
“Goodbye Agent Kallus, shame I won’t get to see you die.”
With that the blue figure disappeared through an air lock door and Kallus was left once again panicking at what was happening. He felt the shift as the magnetic locks holding the escape pod released and it floated away into empty space.
That was enough to pull his mind from the disoriented and dizzy mess it was living in. He all but shot up from where he was lying. Not bothering to stifle the cry that came with the movement. But now some ounce of adrenaline was back in his system and his training came clear into his mind.
He quickly surveyed his surroundings to find he was indeed in an escape pod. But as he looked around in more detail he noticed the tell tale welding marks that meant it had been tampered with. He traced the markings with his eyes but couldn’t quite tell as to what exactly had been tampered with and why.
His eyes then fell to the benches lining each side of the pod. Swallowing thickly before placing his hands on the one closest to him. Breathing heavily as he steeled himself for what he was about to do. He quickly pushed himself up and pulled his body up from the uncomfortable sitting position on the floor and onto the bench. He didn’t stop himself from crying out as angry hot pain pulsed from his ribs and leg. Once he was half sitting on the bench his arms gave out and he slumped back against the wall. His breaths shaky and his eyes unfocused.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there trying to breath through the pain. But eventually he was pulled back into focus as he heard the repetitive sound of a distress beacon coming from the small cockpit ahead of him. He blinked as his bleary eyes came back into focus, ignoring the tears still falling from them. Looking up he could see passed the doorway and into the cockpit where a red light flashed in the corner of his vision. He shifted to try and get a better look inside but whimpered at the resulting pain in his ribs.
At that he bit down angrily on his lip. Reopening the split and letting blood spill over his tongue.
Pathetic
He clenched his fists and bit harder into his lip. Almost relishing the sharp burn compared to the pulsing agony from his broken bones. He glared down at the offending limb. Looking innocent as it stretched out in front of him. He growled as he once again registered the pain burning off it, biting deliberately into the split in his lip.
Absolutely pathetic
He slammed his fist onto the the wall next to him. Why couldn’t he just do something right for once. He’d managed this same damned broken leg on that blasted ice moon just fine. Even fighting with it. And now here he sat barely able to move around with it. He felt sick. Sick, tired and frustrated beyond belief.
He continued to glare at his leg. Tears going unnoticed as they crawled down his face. The only thing clear in his mind the sharp pain of his lip and the fact that he was so overwhelmingly pathetic. At some point it became too much, the build up moving him to suddenly let out an angered scream and slammed both his fists into the the hard metal edge of the bench.
This was utterly pathetic
He screamed at himself again. Angrily spitting out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. Then he pushed himself up, standing quickly and attempting to angrily stomp into the cockpit. It turned out as more of a frustrating stumble while he ignored the pain shooting up his leg whenever he put weight on it. But that was not going to stop him. He got to the front of cockpit just before his legs gave out and he collapsed into the chair. The pain was overwhelming again, snuffing out any of his anger pretty quickly. He felt sick, black spots dancing in his vision as nausea crawled up his throat. He at least had the sense to turn his head as he wretched and vomited next to the chair. The heaving action sparking more pain in his ribs. The black spots grew and he was ripped into unconscious.