Chapter Text
|!¤*'~''~'*¤!|
You hauled the limp body over your shoulder, his blood seeping into the fabric between your bleak armor, but you had learned to ignore it and settled on staring ahead as you went through the chambers threshold.
Striding down the hall with ease, the passing troopers steered clear as you carried the body to disposal, the hidden expression beneath your mask bored and void of care. Many had learned the hard way to stay away from your mask. Just one look at your death toll was enough to scare off the Commanders best soldier.
You had almost made it to the incinerator to be rid of the weight across your shoulders when something caught your eye from the edge of your visor.
A man, grimy and exhausted from battle, was being led in chains by multiple troopers. He glowered at the ground, but tried his best to keep his footing along with any sort of dignity he had left.
He was a war prisoner.
Or to you, another body to burn.
The sigh that left your mask seemed to catch his interest as his head whipped up at that moment, eyes meeting your dark chrome mask before quickly flicking to the lifeless body in your grip. His lips twisted into a grim frown while his dark eyes hardened in resolve just as the guards led him around the corner to the room which you had just left.
You shook your head at the amount of casualties that had occurred just this past month, not to mention the screams that seemed to constantly ring in your ears. It was annoying at first, but now it was just infuriatingly dismal.
Taking the extra few steps to your destination, you swung the heavy steel door open and dumped the crumpled husk into the fires below, quickly shutting it before you could see too much.
Once was enough.
Swiping your gloves together as if to rid them of deaths deeds you constantly carried out, you marched down the corridor to receive the next task, wanting to get this forty-eight hour shift over with already.
Most who passed you gave a curt nod before picking up their pace to wherever they planned to go, the empty stare of your visor seeming to intimidate most. Though you knew it was more than that.
It was the meaning behind the mask, as stupidly psychological as that sounded, it was true.
It was more than just a symbol, but a layer of protection as well. No one had seen your face since you'd joined the First Order, and to be honest you weren't sure if you really had either. You were a completely different person than you were all those years ago.
Now you took the jobs others refused or weren't allowed to have.
You disposed of the tortured bodies, you participated in the gruesome acts without so much as a flinch.
And then there were the most unpleasant jobs.
Cleaning the infirmary after the troops were sent into a massacre. The showers after fresh wounds were healing and fun was had. You fixed the impossibly difficult mechanical repairs no one else had the time or skill for. You took care of the few traitors in your midst and reported directly to Kylo Ren.
You were known by even the most recent recruits from your actions, but they knew you from the mask adorning your face wherever you went.
You were an eerie, powerful presence on whatever base you resided, hidden but always there if they were to call. It was an impossible reputation to escape, so you molded yourself into its midst and lost yourself in the whispered rumors of your reality.
And over time, you became quite fine with that, knowing it would never change.
So you walked briskly once again, always having somewhere to go, someone to kill, something to do. And that's exactly what met you today.
Giving a few swift pounds to the door, the hatch immediately slid open with a mechanical release, and you stepped through the frame with your hands clasped behind your back.
"YN-013." His deep, synthesized voice commanded, his obscured eyes meeting your own. You avoided the urge to tilt your head as you waited for him to continue. He turned his body from the galaxy whipped window to fully face you, posture holding a tense weight of authority you didn't find necessary.
Though you had learned to keep these thoughts to yourself of course, mastering the art of keeping your mind blank or calculated, depending what he required of you.
The force was nothing to mess with.
"A Rebel fighter pilot was captured during the latest exertion on Jakku. He refuses to speak even under harrowing circumstances. I thought you might be interested in persuading him to give us the information we need." He said, the thought in this conversation obviously lacking.
You nodded without hesitation nonetheless, with a brief roll of your eyes.
Sometimes you wished to simply get a day off. No orders, no screams, no anger, no fixing things for everyone else. Just a day to yourself, alone, maybe a book...
You snapped out of your fantasy before it got too far, and nodded again in affirmation, turning on the heel of your polished boots to leave the man's office.
Don't disappoint me.
It wasn't worth saying aloud. You never have, and never would as far as anyone else was concerned. But you knew the consequences if you ever did.
You left without another word, knowing the halls of the elaborate base like the etches of your blade always across your back.
The last thing this man would see was the mask everyone knew,
And feared.