Chance

The Monster Beneath the Mask

AN: This took forever, so sorry. Life has been chaotic recently.

Hope this doesn't suck. And yes, before you ask, things will be heating up very, very soon ;)

~

You'd barely been awake for a whole minute when someone entered your cell. Eyes still bleary from sleep, you could only make out his silhouette.

Dark clothes. Tall. The description of Ren, except you thiught you could see dark hair, rather than a shiny, sleek helmet.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes to clear the rest of the sleep from them. "Ren?"

"Were you expecting someone else?"

It must've been the grogginess playing tricks because when you looked up again, a fully masked Kylo Ren was looming above.

"More like hoping for someone else."

He said nothing in reply, just stepping in front of you and dropping a bundle of something on the floor.

"Here."

You leaned forward and rifled around to find that it was a stack of clothes he'd brought you. Some black, stretchy, athletic looking clothing.

Ugh. That whole training nonsense he mentioned.

You scowled up at him and nudged the clothes away with your foot. "I'm not putting these on."

"You will either put them on, or I will rip the clothes you are currently wearing and then you will have no choice."

You recoiled a bit. Geez.

"Fine." You snatched up the bundle of clothes. "Asshole."

He looked back at you over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "I heard that."

You scoffed to yourself. "That was the goal."

"You will be ready in five minutes."

A second later, he was gone and the blast door was closed once more.

Not that you'd admit it, but the idea of putting on these fresh clothes in front of you sounded great. The grimy things you were currently wearing had been on for way too long, probably three days now, and you were relieved to have some semblance of cleanliness.

You scrunched your face in disgust when you came across a pair of black underwear in the pile of clothes. The idea of that monster—or anyone in this forsaken place—picking out undergarments for you made you nauseous.

Yet you couldn't deny the relief you felt at the idea of all fresh clothing items. No freedom at the moment, but at least you'd retain decent hygiene.

The material of your new clothes was soft and sleek on your hands, much more appealing than the coarse and beyond well-worn clothes you were peeling off.

A little less appealing, however, when the clothes turned out to be extremely formfitting.

It wouldn't matter long. You'd put the damn clothes on, drag yourself to this stupid training, and then once he realized you were the wrong girl, you'd be on your way.