Still talking. And further interfering. Kylo Ren dropped his hand away from Luke's direction and released whatever hold he had grappled, and moved it toward the gun's fire halting it about five feet away from himself. Perhaps less. Then he knocked it away where it pinged on a wall and he growled.
"I AM NOT WEAK!" the knight bellowed so ferociously it echoed the cargo's hold. The man looked like he were coming undone. Where he had been relaxed and casual in his tank top and slacks, his hair swept back with that volume he had--must be from his mother; to a disheveled appearance where his shirt was being pulled from where it was tucked in slightly, that hair of his flopping forward with some of his brow. His scars looked more twisted, as if taking upon the appearance of anger, fury, and dissonance.
"THIS IS MY MISSION!" Kylo Ren continued. "MY GRANDFATHER'S MISSION! I WILL FINISH IT!" And so perhaps someone did not tell him the true and proper story to Vader's end. Perhaps because no one had seen it. Or perhaps Luke had tried, so many times, to tell Kylo--Ben, otherwise. And perhaps that boy had been under Snoke's thumb for so, so very long he saw nothing else, no other truth, regardless of Snoke's presence.
Kylo Ren swung his blade in a twirl, the excessive prongs flying without marking him, ready to continue the fight regardless of his odds now stacked with both his powerful masters before him. He was blinded by practical insanity, that temper of his too flared to be put out by a simple douse of water. That flame needed more, far more, to smother the embers away.