He shouldn't have let them catch him, but of course it was way too late for that.

With only a couple of stormtroopers Poe could have risked grabbing for their gun to free himself or die trying, but there were about fifteen of them around. He had no chance to deal with more than four of them before the rest took care of him, and there was no need for them to kill him either. They could have just tased him, or knocked him out. Or shoot him in the leg.

There was no way to tell for sure, not with their masks on and their stubborn silence, but Poe mused that there must be at least one or two amongst them who would enjoy that.

Everyone heard stories about how those who had just a hint of personality left inside them could be a lot worse than the poor bastards who'd been perfeclty brainwashed. He guessed the one grabbing him by the arm with more force than it was necessary as their transporter landed was one of those, and he was about to make an unsavoury remark on that too, but as they stepped out into the receiving bay, his vocal cords suddenly refused too cooperate.

It's been a while since he'd last been on board of a destroyer of this size, and even though he had read countless reports on the First Order and had been familiar with the most important figures, seeing the amount of manpower and machinery they had at their disposal took his breath away. Even more so when he thought about his former superiors back at the navy who failed to see how they were a force to be reckoned with.

"Move," snapped the stormtrooper holding on to Poe's arm, and as another grabbed him too, they started dragging him deeper into the belly of the beast.

oOo

He shouldn't have let them catch him, but all was not lost yet.

They learned who he was before he started feeling the chill of the holding cell, but that wasn't something he could help. Spies were everywhere, and it was only logical for the First Order to keep an eye on officers of the New Republic Starfleet who left their promising careers from one day to the next. Or at least he hoped it was how they identified him, and not from someone inside the Resistance.

But there were other things for him to fight, and he made sure he fought them with all his might.

He knew they would beat him up, but at least he also knew that he could take it. After all, no matter how expertly inflicted, it was only physical pain. So he clenched his teeth and shut it out, and when he couldn't do that any longer, he screamed.

There were two stormtroopers and an officer with him at all times, the former to do the dirty work, and the latter to watch and ask questions, but they weren't always the same people. The first supervising officer was a tall, lean man with dark hair, but then he left the cell and a shorter one took his place. The third was a woman. Then the fourth was a man again, and he was the only one who hit Poe with his own hand. Maybe he shouldn't have greeted him by saying that he preferred his colleague.

The stormtroopers kept on coming and going as well, maybe to make Poe feel like he'd been in the cell for ages and to let him know that they were ready to keep him there for another eternity too, but there was no way to tell them apart.

Then came the silence.

He remembered from his training that this was the part that should have made him feel scared of what was coming, and he had to admit that it worked exceptionally well. Left alone with dimmed lights, a single guard and in as much silence as it was possible aboard a moving destroyer, he had little else to concentrate on than the pain and the cold, and it made being hopeful about his situation a lot harder.

But it all became even more unnerving when they came back.

They brought down their fists harder than before, but this time they didn't bother asking questions. It was no longer an interrogation, let alone a fight between their will and his. It was an assault, and it made him feel more vulnerable than anything they did before; and only when he couldn't take any more of it and the cell started to swim before his eyes did he realise how desperately he'd been holding on to the contraption he was tied to the whole time. And his fingers kept on grasping them even after he passed out.

oOo

When Poe regained his consciousness, the man in the mask from Tuanul was with him, and he knew it was his presence that somehow brought him around, because each and every cell of his body screamed to be left alone in the dark, but his mind was strangely alert. A small voice in the back of his head also told him that the man came to finish what the previous interrogators have started, and that he would succeed where everyone else have failed.

Poe tried to play it cool though, and much good it did him.

When the man hit him with a new wave of pain that didn't even require the use of his fist, he managed to spit out that the Resistance wouldn't be intimidated by him, or something brave like that, but he was defenceless against what followed.

Everything he knew about the Force came from stories, and people didn't like talking about the damage it was capable of doing, and they had a good reason to do so. Poe had never felt anything like it before, and prayed between desperate gasps for air that he'd die before he had to feel it again. And when the head-splitting sensation reached its peak, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the drops running down his face weren't tears, but blood.

Poe could tell the moment the man found what he was looking for, because he dropped his hand, and finally let the world go dark around him. He shouldn't have let them catch him alive.

Thanks for reading! It's my first attempt in this fandom, so I would really appreciate reviews.