A Child in a Mask – Ren’s First Few Scenes

With a subtle hiss and quiet clank, the turbolift doors slide apart. Garbed in black from helm to boot, Kylo Ren steps out into the Supreme Leader’s throne room.

The chamber is something of an atrium, with a high glass wall that curves around behind the dais. A blood-red curtain currently obstructs the view; it also provides the Praetorian Guard with a measure of camouflage, as their crimson armor becomes nearly imperceptible against it. An elite force of warriors, they stand sentry, silent and watchful, spread out along the edge of the open platform which bears the throne. Equally inconspicuous are the mysterious attendants shrouded in purple robes who silently mill about the oculus they use to survey distant space.

At Ren’s arrival, General Hux glances over his shoulder, his pasty countenance smug. Standing at ease off to one side, he seems to have been engaged in a conversation with their leader, who presently gives a low chuckle. “Tied on a string, indeed, General Hux,” Supreme Leader Snoke says with pleasure in his deep, rumbling voice. “Well done. The Resistance will soon be in our grasp.”

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.” Hux respectfully bows his head and turns to leave. Passing Ren on his way out, the senior officer tosses a cocky smirk toward his masked rival.

Since Starkiller Base imploded and Ren required rescuing, the general has been more insufferable than ever, and despite Ren’s extensive training, he finds it difficult to tamp down his growing annoyance. Aggravating the issue, Snoke and Hux have been meeting without his knowledge. The blatant exclusion is a message, a threat, a promise. After Ren failed to capture the droid, after he failed to get the map from the scavenger girl, after he failed to present her to Snoke as commanded, clearly he is no longer the master’s prize pupil.

After Hux has gone, Snoke continues to chuckle as Ren kneels before him on black floor tiles polished to a high sheen. “You wonder why I keep a rabid cur in such a place of power,” the Supreme Leader declares with sinister satisfaction. “A cur’s weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool.” His hideous grin fades, and more soberly, he inquires, “How’s your wound?”

Which one? Ren amassed several recently—major trauma to the left side of his torso, a graze on his arm, and a jab to the opposite shoulder. Each took a progressively larger toll on his pride, but their shame pales in comparison to the long gash he knows Snoke is speaking of.

Keeping his head bent, he gives a dismissive response, willing it to sound earnest. Distorted by the vocoder in his mask, his mumbled words are nearly indiscernible. “It’s nothing.”

Snoke grimaces. A tall, gaunt creature that only appears human, he gains his feet and drawls mockingly, “The mighty Kylo Ren.” His gold robes shimmer and swish as, with a slow, awkward gait, he steps down from the dais and leisurely approaches his apprentice. “When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see—raw, untamed power. And beyond that, something truly special.” Coming to a halt, he addresses Ren’s bowed head in a reverential whisper. “The potential of your bloodline. A new…Vader.” Giving the legendary name a moment of silence, Snoke draws a long, rasping breath before his mouth sinks into a scowl. “Now, I fear I was mistaken.”

Taken aback, Ren goes still. Mistaken? After all these years, he loses focus once, bungles his objective once, makes a fool of himself once—and Snoke’s forsaking him? Lifting his head, he doesn’t try to suppress his incredulity. “I gave everything I have to you. To the dark side,” he adds belatedly to convey a wider field of commitment.

His grotesquely scarred features contorting into a vexed sneer, Snoke pins Ren with eyes cold and colorless as ice. In an ominous hiss, he commands, “Take that ridiculous thing off.”

Conscious of his battered visage, Ren hesitates. But, unable to refuse an order from the Supreme Leader, especially for the sake of vanity, he reluctantly obeys, revealing a pitiful portrait of wounded pride and disgrace. Black mechnosutures, which at a distance appear to form a narrow bandage, starkly contrast his pallid face. Beginning just beneath his right eye, the sutures slant across his cheek, then snake down the side of his neck and onto his shoulder, following the slash the scavenger girl savagely dealt him. An insult upon injury, as she struck with the lightsaber that should by all rights belong to him. She has also stolen sleep from him, leaving shadows beneath his eyes.

Inexplicably, though, her offenses rouse no wrath in him. Instead, he finds himself fascinated by the strength with which she wields the power of the Force. To his bemusement, he longs to meet her again, eager to learn more about her.

Never mind her origin as an insignificant orphan from Jakku; never mind her infuriating habit of thwarting him. From the moment he met her on Takodana—when she shot first—he has been captivated by the paradox she embodies—coexisting qualities of malice and purity.

For one fleeting moment in the forest on Starkiller Base, after she felled him to the ground and he lay supine, his flesh torn, he looked up to see a darkness clouding her expression, her judgment—the thirst for vengeance, the urge to strike a final blow and balance her own personal scales of justice. The urge to murder him as he murdered a man she considered a father. He fully expected to feel the fiery blade of her lightsaber pierce his chest, but the ground shook, moaned, cracked, then split into a fiery chasm before either of them could move, putting distance between them, saving them from one another.

As their eyes locked from opposite sides of the cleft, he watched the venom drain from her expression before she ran. But he’s certain the dark side had called to her, as the light calls to him. And she recoiled from it, just as he does from the light. With every breath, he struggles to smother it. Is it possible she finds it equally difficult to deny the darkness?

He yearns for an answer.

But now is not the time to ponder the fierce look of heartbroken fury in her dark eyes, or the sense of familiarity she stirs inside him. Not now, when the Supreme Leader can sense every thought that crosses his mind, every emotion that touches his heart.

Shoving thoughts of her away, Ren stares meekly at the floor while he suffers Snoke’s condescending perusal.

“Yes, there it is,” the Supreme Leader scoffs. “You have too much of your father’s heart in you, young Solo.”

“I killed Han Solo,” Ren retorts quickly, impertinently, his eyes flying up to meet his master’s. Snoke turns away, his movements casual with disinterest. Ren stares hard at his back, indignation swelling in his chest. Despite the animosity he harbored for Han, looking the man in the eye as he impaled him was the hardest thing Ren had ever done in his life. And he did it for Snoke. To win his master’s favor. To earn the Supreme Leader’s respect. To prove Ren harbors no emotion, no sentiment, no compassion. To establish firm footing with the dark side. But instead of commendation, he receives scorn.

His voice keen with resentment, his body trembling with it, Ren snaps, “When the moment came I didn’t hesitate.” And he hadn’t. Much.

Swinging back around to face him, Snoke counters with severe reproach, his voice rising. “And look at you. The deed split your spirit to the bone!”

Though his eyes lower to the floor once more, Ren dares to lift his chin in defiance.

“You were unbalanced,” Snoke growls, his disdain palpable. “Bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber! You failed!” he roars.

Ren’s control slips another notch, and the instinct to defend himself overwhelms him. Bearing his teeth, he shoots to his feet and makes the rash mistake of throwing off his static-dampening cape in one lithe, aggressive movement.

Instantly, the eight crimson sentinels assume combative stances, bladed weapons in hand, ready to defend their leader. But their interference isn’t necessary. Snoke simply holds out a hand and summons blazing blue bolts of electricity that spring from the ground and stun Ren with a jolt, picking him up and dropping him to the floor. A pesky insect, swatted.

“Skywalker lives,” Snoke snarls as Ren sits up clumsily and, his nerves sparking, throws a glance toward the guards, who return to a passive state. Turning his back on Ren, the Supreme Leader ascends the steps to his obsidian throne. “The seed of the Jedi order lives. As long as it does, hope lives in the galaxy.”

Ren manages to get to his feet and gazes at Snoke steadily, his expression carefully neutral, his breathing measured, every ounce of control that remains at his command working to quell the turbulent emotions surging through his veins. Still, the slightest trace of tender dejection passes over his face, because his master, his leader, his guide, his teacher—and for all intents and purposes, his father—has spurned him. Once again, he has been judged and found lacking.

“I thought you would be the one to snuff it out.” Snoke drops onto the seat of his throne as if the altercation exhausted him. “Alas,” he sighs dispiritedly, quiet now. “You’re no Vader. You’re just a child…” He skewers his apprentice with another contemptuous glare. “In a mask.”

A short time later, Ren stands alone in the lift, surrounded by vertical oblong lights in black paneling. The moment the door closes, one frustrated, furious tear traces the side of his nose, then another. His breathing uneven, he swallows back the rest.

What did Snoke want from him? He’s done everything his master has asked, carried out every order issued, no matter how heinous. He erased all but one Jedi from the galaxy. He ruthlessly murdered his father, believing the deed would at long last extinguish the spark of light plaguing him, and thus allow him to become the dark lord the Supreme Leader aspires him to be. But no—if anything, his father’s demise fanned the spark into a flicker of flame. Instead of easing, the pain of conflicted conscience intensified.

He wasn’t righteous enough to ascend as a Jedi Knight. He hasn’t proven apathetic enough to lose himself in the dark.

Where does that leave him?

I fear I was mistaken… You’re just a child in a mask.

He glances down at the helmet he carries in his hand. Part of his uniform as master of the Knights of Ren, it was meant to be inspiring as well as intimidating. Inspiring to him, intimidating to everyone else. Now, thanks to Snoke’s cutting remark, it seems foolish. A prop. The prop of a coward. A disguise to hide his true identity, the embarrassing circumstances of his birth. To hide his lack of resolve. To hide his fear.

He raises his gaze.

The mask also represents the greatness he has failed to achieve. The dark legacy he has failed to honor.

This time, his emotions don’t manifest as tears. In a burst of violence, he slams the helmet into the paneling, emitting sparks and shattering glass. Glinting fragments tinkle as they scatter across the floor.

Quivering, he slowly pulls back and stares down at the cracked and splintered facade. No more.

No more hiding.

With a grunt of effort, he again slams the helmet into the paneling.

No more cowering.

Slam.

No more failing.

Slam.

He will be the prodigy Snoke wishes him to be.

Slam.

Because he doesn’t know what else to do. Doesn’t know what else to become.

Slam.

He has nowhere else to go.

He drops the remnants of his obscurity to the floor. When the doors part, his shoulders are hunched, his fists clenched. Ferocity rolling off him in waves, he barks, “Prepare my ship,” at the officers who snapped to attention upon sight of him. Barging past them, he stalks down the corridor. On the warpath.

 

The barrage begins.

Missiles arc and fall in streaks of green, land in bursts of flame. Caught unawares, the cargo frigate is shot down within moments of the First Order’s arrival. The other three Resistance ships strengthen their rear shields and hurry to get out of range.

Seated in the cockpit of his Silencer, Ren departs the Supremacy flanked by three TIE fighters. Unintimidated by the vast black expanse of space, they zoom toward their target: the Star Cruiser Raddus, command central for the Resistance—and flagship of General Leia Organa.

Inhaling deeply, he reviews his tactical objectives: destroy the primary bridge and the main hangar, where the fighter pilots will surely be scrambling to retaliate at this very moment. Without leadership or starfighters, the Rebels’ hope will quickly wane as their organization collapses. After the First Order takes what they want from the remains of the helpless fleet—which better include the map to Skywalker—the Resistance will be destroyed. Then the search for Skywalker will resume.

Is the scavenger girl on board? Or did she and the traitorous trooper take that abominable freighter back to Jakku?

He forces the thoughts away, dispelling his curiosity. Shutting out his weakness. Determined, he issues his wingmen a directive. “Follow my lead.”

Overtaking the cruiser, he blasts it with laser bolts and continues to fire while he executes a barrel roll, dives around to the starboard side, and takes aim on the main hangar. Arming a pair of proton torpedoes, he decisively presses the trigger and launches them directly into the bay. Boom. No more pilots.

Down one wingman, Ren leads the two remaining TIE fighters around the stern of the cruiser and along its port side, staying close to discourage enemy fire. As they reach the bow, however, his motivation shifts, and he flies as close to the bridge as he dares, boasting his skills and making certain they get a good look at his powerful vessel—the one that will end them.

Without warning, a familiar warmth flows over him, into him. An energy he hasn’t felt in years. Not since he was a child.

Mom.

She’s on board. There, in the bridge. He knew she would be. Where else would she be? Where else has she ever been? But he didn’t expect to sense her. Not like this.

Hope. So much hope.

His defenses crumble, and as he flies out to gain some distance and circle around to take aim, his heart pounds and his mind spins.

He’s about to kill his mother.

No. He’s about to annihilate the leader of the Resistance. He has to do this. He will do this. He will free himself from the past and secure his future. As if to prove it to himself, he loads and arms his torpedoes.

Her warmth seeps into the deepest parts of him, of his mind, of his heart. It seeks out the neglected little boy and wraps around him like a downy piece of linen, soft yet strong.

Come home. Please, come home.

His flight computer trills. The shot is lined up and locked on.

Fire.

It’s too late. Too late for apologies, for comfort, for guidance. She sent him away. He was a bothersome burden that took up too much of her precious time. The fate of the galaxy was more important than the fate of one needy little boy, no matter that the boy was her own. Now, the fate of the galaxy rests in that needy little boy’s hands. Joke’s on her.

He’s where he belongs. He must be, because everyone else turned him away. Everyone else was afraid of him.

His thumb moves over the trigger, begins to press down.

Fire.

Her warmth feels so good, so right. Tears prick his eyes, and he swallows hard as temptation gnaws at him. If he went to her… But he’s no longer a child. How would she be able to stand the sight of the man who has slaughtered so many innocents? Committed so many vile acts?

The man who killed her husband.

His father’s face appears in his mind’s eye, as clear as if Han Solo was alive before him. When he thrust his saber through his father’s chest, surprise, pain, confusion, and hurt all passed over Han’s craggy countenance. But in his final moments, Han reached out to caress Ben’s face. The face of his son. His grown boy. Acceptance dawned, understanding, regret. And then…a dim flicker of forgiveness.

Perhaps that’s simply what Ren wanted to see.

The targeting system continues to trill. The command ship draws closer…closer…

Snoke expects him to aid in crippling the Resistance. If he doesn’t, the Supreme Leader will lose faith in him entirely, and he’ll be finished. Snoke will crush him. There is no escape.

He has to do this.

Fire.

But his thumb doesn’t so much as twitch.

If he does fire on the bridge, kill his mother, and enable the First Order to destroy the Resistance, will the Supreme Leader appreciate his efforts, or will Ren have somehow failed once more? Will his mother’s death be in vain, as his father’s was?

His stomach revolts, but the warmth is there, everywhere, soothing, caring, loving.

Carefully, deliberately, he releases the trigger and rests his thumb beside it.

Two bright blue streaks sail past his ship, startling him. He jerks his head to the side to see where the shots came from. The TIE fighters.

He watches in dismay as the primary bridge of the Raddus explodes. All manner of debris is sucked out into the inhospitable vacuum of space.

Anything that was alive is now dead—including the warmth inside him. In its absence, he is cold. So cold.

Mom…

He spared her, and she was killed regardless. He no doubt deserves that.

He and his wingmen angle around the bow and head aft. The Resistance Bunkerbuster wrecks the TIE fighter who took the first shot at the bridge. With grim satisfaction, Ren flies past the debris.

A blue-tinted hologram appears before him. In full parade uniform, Hux stands with his hands clasped behind his back. “Ren, the Resistance pulled out of range. We can’t cover you at this distance. Return to the fleet.”

Receiving an order from Hux—to retreat, no less—abrades his raw nerves, but the general’s right. As Ren watches, the Bunkerbuster takes out the last of his wingmen, and without cover fire from the Star Destroyers, he’s completely exposed.

Setting course for the Supremacy, he wonders what the Supreme Leader will have to say about what has been accomplished. At this point, the Resistance ships are nothing more than targets bleeding fuel. It’s only a matter of time before their futile insurgence has concluded, and when it has, Ren will find Skywalker, and he will obliterate all that remains of the sanctimonious Jedi Order. Hope will be gone, along with any obstacles in his path to the dark side.

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Just You – the first force connection

Lesson One – Rey’s first lesson from Luke

A Monster – the second force connection

Your Greatest Weakness – Rey’s second lesson from Luke and the third force connection

Not Alone – Rey’s experience in the sea cave and the fourth force connection

His True Enemy – confronting Snoke

Let Old Things Die – the “proposal” scene

Let Old Things Die – revised and expanded

The Supreme Leader – Ren’s last few scenes

 

You’re Nothing – A Ben Solo Character Study

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