#conflic

"So, are we going to talk today?"

The tall, slender man that had just walked into your little room had his head cocked and his hands clasped behind his back. His face had ugly looking stripes up and down it, but you couldn't tell if they were scars or birthmarks. Perhaps they were painted on. Who cared. You certainly didn't.

The man was named Dryden Vos. Head of Crimson Dawn. He and his lieutenants had been waiting for you among the slain bodies of the Rang Clan. Maz and Hondo had been carried off to who-knew-where, while you were tied up in a small room on their ship. It was made clear right away that while you were too valuable to kill, they weren't afraid to push you. To try breaking you.

"I'll only talk to tell you, once again, that I know nothing."

Your voice was raspy, a result of fatigue, dehydration... screaming.... Your whole body was tired and in pain, especially your wrists from ropes they were tied to. And to make matters worse, you'd started your period again the day the crime syndicate had finally taken you. They weren't as obliging to your requests for supplies as your first captor had been, leaving you to sit in your own, miserable mess this whole time. Your flow was beginning to let up now, but the stains and the smell and the embarrassment lingered.

It was like you'd come full circle, you thought glumly.

But you weren't broken yet.

Dryden chuckled and began pacing around you. His usual routine. Right now your knees were on the floor, your arms strung up by ropes that seemed to dig impossibly deeper into your wrists each day. He would turn about you a few times, repeating the same questions and growing more annoyed with your lack of response. Then the ropes would be pulled and you'd end up on your tippy-toes, where he'd then wave his weird little glowing daggers in your face before storming out.

Every day so far it'd been the same, although yesterday he'd actually cut you with his blade. A small flick across your cheek, just beneath your right eye. A regular blade would've left only a scratch, but these blades had a sharp, almost dark energy to them. Your face was still stinging from it. You were hoping he'd be in a better mood today so you wouldn't have to see what further damage they were capable of.

"You see, I find that hard to believe," Dryden was saying, his voice soft and drawling. He could've been considered handsome, a real debonair of a man any woman would pine for. But you could hear the sinister undertones of his voice. You'd seen the emptiness in his blue eyes. He disgusted you. "I find it hard to believe that someone out there values you so highly and you know nothing about it."

He stopped in front of you, waiting for you to look up at him before smirking. "Lift her up!" he shouted out. Somewhere beyond your room, someone cranked on a lever and you slowly began to rise. Your hands had long grown numb from the lack of circulation, but the tightening of the ropes always brought a little jolt of pain that only grew worse with each passing day. You were sure your hands would soon just fall off altogether.

When you'd been raised just to meet him at eye level, Dryden resumed his pacing. This time, though, he didn't pull out his blades, but kept his hands tightly grasped behind him. "This is the last time I will be asking you this, so think very carefully about what you want. Who has the five million credit bounty on your head?"

You opened your mouth to respond with the same answer out of habit, but Dryden quickly shot up a hand to stop you.

"I said think, girl," he growled slightly. Impatience flashed across his face before he adjusted his posture and recomposed himself. "We're approaching the Imperial base in just a few hours, and I have no issues handing you over to them instead. One million is still worth the amount of trouble you've caused us, as is getting into the Empire's good graces."

"Then why don't you just sell me to them and leave me alone?"

Dryden wagged a finger at you while chuckling. "Ah, but do you really want to take your chances in an Imperial cell? Their treatment of you won't be any better than what you've seen here. But if there's someone out there willing to pay more, I doubt they'll want to cause you any harm."

He pulled up in front of you again, smirking just inches from your face. "It would be in your best interest to make sure we collect the other bounty, not the Empire's. So... who is it?"

Your nose wrinkled; his breath smelled like fish.

"Don't tell me what my best interest is. I know what I want."

"Which is what?"

"To go home," you breathed out, hanging your head in weariness. Saying the words only made you feel weaker, made you feel like giving up. What did it matter if you finally found the mystery buyer, or were sold to the Empire, or tortured here forever?

What did you matter?

"Which is where?" Dryden asked you, still keen on getting something out of you. "Please, go on, tell me all about your home and childhood and all the things you know. Perhaps you don't know anything about this bounty after all, but that doesn't mean there isn't a little clue somewhere in your life that can lead me to it."

Dryden had his blade out now, holding it just beside your other cheek. He tilted your chin up to face him again, to see the merciless smirk held in his features there.

You supposed you wouldn't have cared what he'd done to you in that moment, had it played out. You were on the cusp of letting go of everything and letting your spirit drift away forever. But the ship jerked suddenly, taking the chance away.

The ship slanted. Your wrists strained against the ropes as you dangled uncomfortably to the side. Dryden had slid off, catching himself on the opposite wall. Lights flickered and a warning bell went off somewhere in the distance. There was also the faint but distinct sound of shooting.

"Fuck's sake," Dryden swore as he pushed his way out of the room, leaning against walls to stable himself as he disappeared down the hall.

You continued to hang there, now feeling more pain than ever as the ropes threatened to tear you apart. Tears began to stream down your face reluctantly. You were trying to stay strong, just in case the commotion could help you find a way to escape somehow.

Booms and shouts echoed around. The main lights eventually went out altogether, leaving only the pale florescent strips along the floorboards to see by. There was a red alert light somewhere out in the hall, its beam sweeping past your room every few seconds.

As you looked around helplessly, trying to think of something you could do, you suddenly dropped to the floor. The ropes had been released from the mechanisms in the ceiling, falling around you in coils. You quickly worked to free the knots from your wrists, cringing at how the lack of pressure now made them sting and ooze with blood and pus.

You rose shakily to your feet, fighting to keep balanced on the sloping ship. You stumbled toward the door, grasping the doorframe for support just as an unmistakable silhouette appeared in the red-lit hallway.

"Boba," you began to rasp out, but not before he gripped both of your shoulders.

"Did they hurt you?" He had his armor back on: helmet, cape, jetpack, everything. The sweeping red light reflected off of it in waves. You'd almost forgotten how it all looked.

It was obvious you'd been roughed up, and not by accident. But you knew it wasn't a question so much as a statement. Even through the helmet you could tell he was looking at you square on. There was a determination in his voice. A fierceness, almost. He was looking for a reason to hurt someone himself.

After all you'd been through, after all the pain and humiliation and cruelty, you had no reservations in giving it to him. With one small nod of your head, he straightened up and pointed down the hall.

"Get to the ship."