To Do the Next Right Thing

Part 2

To Do the Next Right Thing

Chapter 2

It certainly wasn't the first time he'd pretended to be dead.

Of course Hux expected Pryde to not buy the shot in his leg; even as a general who seemed to not do much of anything anymore, he knew Pryde's ruthless mannerisms. Watched them closely. Had felt the back of his hand, his boot, even, in his youth.

Pryde probably had the suspicion that he'd been the spy well before he announced it and shot him down, and Hux had been counting on that.

He'd also been counting on Pryde's, well... pride to hit his target without looking, to not shoot again in the head to make sure he was dead. He also figured Pryde would be too far focused on Ren's mission to Exegol to worry too much about the disposal of Hux's body, or the damaged security cams still about the Destroyer.

Know the enemy, Pryde had once said before, after a rather ruthless training session. Hux never thought that enemy would be the very thing he'd tried to build all his life.

If Pryde remembered to shoot him in the head, if it was really the end—Hux honestly would not have minded in the slightest, after what he'd done, how he'd betrayed the cause for which he'd always been training. He'd been in the face of death plenty of times before; this easily could have been his final breath and he'd be in a less self-loathing position. If Pryde shot him in the head, it'd be the easy way out. The one where he didn't have to think, didn't have to live with his actions, this consequence of what it meant to go against the First Order. To admit that he, Armitage Hux, had found fundamentally deep flaws within the system he once found so perfect.

But he hadn't. Two Stormtroopers (they must have been, one hauling his torso, the other his legs) handled him off the bridge, no doubt taking his body to the morgue to dispose of with the other unfortunate Stormtroopers that had met their end at the hands of the Resistance. No doubt they at least had an idea what dead weight felt like, and Hux tried his damnedest to hold still, recovering from that rather brutal blast, no doubt leaving a bruise on his torso.

Blaster-proof armor certainly wasn't easy to come by, but certainly accessible for a First Order general. He'd wrapped up his leg in his quarters (albeit crudely; he hadn't had much time to prepare), then slipped the armor under his uniform. By that time, the Wookie, Commander Dameron, and former FN-2187 were well out of Pryde's reach—perfect for him to show his face on the bridge and give his excuse, adding a bit of exaggeration to his limp. Sure, it had been a while since he'd taken a blaster to the leg, but he implied the injury to be far worse than the hell he'd experienced prior.

Kylo Ren's plaything. His abuse toy. Without Snoke, there was nothing holding back the new Supreme Leader to take out all his frustrations on a living being. Sometimes Ren was bored and just... threw him against a wall for his amusement. No, never enough to kill Hux; Ren couldn't lead an army worth a damn and even Ren had to admit his adversary had at least a few decent ideas.

Then Pryde came back into his life, and that precipice on which Hux once stood, between loyalty and betrayal, teetered over the edge so quickly he hadn't even noticed the change.

There'd been Brendol, who never failed to let Hux forget his bastard status and showed him his boot more than his hand or fist. Maratelle, who would pinch him under the table and would smirk whenever Hux had to give his excuse as to why he suddenly hurt, as there was no way Brendol's wife could cause such cruelty. Kylo Ren, who had just been plopped into a ranked position in the First Order without earning anything, using his powers to fish out every emotion within Hux and hold him down, throw him without the power to stop it. Finally Pryde, whose assignment to watch over Hux after being a First Order general for years added nothing but insult to injury.