And We Were gods, Once

[Hera]

Hera's mood was morose in the extreme.

The view from her window of the planet below did little to dispell the morbid thoughts that had been the staple occupation of her mind for months and years on end.

The glory days of Sith domination and darkside force superiority where but shadows and fast fading memories. In the beginning, the whole-scale slaughter of Force users had not touched her too much. The main targets had been the Jedi, and Hera had been amused by it all.

Then came reports of darksiders, both familiar and unfamiliar to her, who had been destroyed. Hunted and killed by any hired hand who could pull a laser trigger and read a wanted hololist. Suddenly times had changed - betrayers and whistleblowers gave up long time associates, and even friends, to the tune of a few fast credits. It all wasnt quite so amusing any more.

And now, after her enforced sojourn on Myrkyr, Hera cursed again the place that had kept her safe from apprehension. She cursed many things these days. The Imperials, whom she detested for what they had brought her, and those like her, to; the Jedi, because they were always so deserving of her hatred' but especially she cursed Myrkyr and the damnable yslarimi, whose prolific presence excluded all detection of her location, but also over time had deadened the very driving force that had made it necessary for her to hide in the first place.

"Frakked up galaxy"

She cursed out loud. Again. The passengers in the chair next to her changed seats.

She glowered at them.

They changed seats again, further up.

Hera shrank down into her seat and pulled her touque down hard on her ears, trying to stiffle the anger and frustration that months of personal impotency had left smouldering.

Her coming to Coruscant - or Imperial Center, as it is now known - was going to be a very different experience than in times past. Hera must remember she is still the fugitive and be wary of every single living being she encounters.

Under her breath this time, she curse once more.
"Frakked up galaxy"

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai watched as the girl sat looking out the window. She was contorting her face, getting angry over something and is if that wasn't enough he smiled when she cursed outloud. Such hate, such anger for something she didn't understand. The galaxy. . .

Baralai stood from his seat and came to sit beside her. He came close to her hood and whispered in her ear, "Baralai Lotus is the name, if I may ask why is it you hate something you don't understand?" Baralai sat back up in his seat and pulled his coat out a little, showing his lightwhip handle. He sat, knowing now she wouldn't strike out, waiting for a response.

[Hera]

Hera stiffened in her seat as Baralai's voice intruded on her thoughts.

Her first reaction was to snap at him for presuming to join her, but a quick glance at the revealed weapon handle beneath his coat gave her pause. Her natural distrust, amplified by her present circumstances, made her question the reasoning for such an obvious display.

It could just as easily be a deliberate set up, as a fortuitous meeting. Hera had heard of many that had been lulled into trust by those posing as fellow-force users only to find they had been baited. With out her force-sensitivity, she had no way to tell. She was flying blind in matters of the force, and the floundering sensation made her feel physically ill. A light sheen of sweat prickled her skin.

After a long moment, she found her voice to reply as casually as she could.

"Oh..I just hate flying is all. And landing in particular."

Belatedly, she added a weak smile.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai smirked at her, "I have a feeling it's much more than that. Cursing the galaxy is a bit odd if you just hate flying. I think something else is bothering you, the question is. . .what?" Baralai motioned in on her, observing her clothing and her face, or what he could see of it.

He watched her give a weak smile, "Such a weak smile. . ." he smirked and sat back. "What is it that makes you afraid of flying?" He knew he had to change the subject if he wanted to get anywhere with this woman.

[Hera]

She shrugged, continuing the pretense of casual nocommittance.

"Public transport - you never know what kind of mook is in the driver seat."

She eyed him a tad more closely.

"You fly, do you?"

[Baralai Lotus]

"Flying is not one of my favorite things in the world, but sometimes it's best to get a look at everything. See just how small everything and everyone is." He smirked, "But it seems you have the better view. In a way, it's almost like you're a God, staring down upon what you created. Makes you feel powerful doesn't it? Or maybe, it just makes you realize how truly insignificant one life or one problem is among the galaxy."

[Hera]

Insignificant - is that what she was now? Was she nothing more now than one of these cravens crawling the planet below them. The thought was distateful, but not new to her. She felt the familiar knot of shame twist in her gut.

It brought a bitter retort to her lips.

"What would you know about power?"

Now her eyes raked him, daring him to state his real purpose for approaching her.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai looked at the woman, "I know many things about power. In my studies I have seen true power, the power to create life. Although I do not posess it yet, I soon will. It is only a matter of time and patience. Why do you ask?"

[Hera]

"I ask, because anyone can speak as though they are knowledgeable of certain things. It doesn't always mean a whole lot. Words are cheap"

She shifted to relax back in her chair, as if dismissing his claim as just that - cheap talk. "I'd be careful if I were you" she advised casually, "you sound like some kind of force-user." She leaned forward as if sharing a little known secret, "They've been killing those types the past few years, dont'chya know."

The man certainly was giving her alot of signals as to what he was, but that in itself could be read as alarming. Why? They had never met. He may perhaps recognise her from some sort of contract on her. She had been out of sight for a great while, but some may still be hunting her.

Or he could be genuine and somehow want to make contact. He could be someone as lost as she was, though he didn't seem to have the same hunted look about him as she did.

This soon in the game, Hera was not prepared to commit herself one way or the other. Especially not in a transport barge that had not yet docked to port, with nowhere to escape.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai smirked at her, reading her body language. She was so closed up, "They've been killing force users. Most likely the ones who use it to get what they need. I speak. . .of the Sith, of us." He said as he pointed his fingers at himself and at her.

"Words may be cheap, but actions are worth thousands. I have no desire to hurt you girl, just trying to get you to open up. . ."

[Hera]

Her stomach lurched, then dropped with sickening sensation.

She would like to tell herself that it was just the transporter thrusters reversing in preparation for landing, but her mind was racing too furiously in six different directions to preceive how this man could have discovered who she was. All other considerations were overwhelmed.

Her eyes flicked to the faces of the passengers around her - across the aisle forward and back, those to the side of Baralai, a quick twist of her neck to those seated behind. All appeared disinterested in the interaction between this man and herself, and were busying themselves collecting up magazines, bags, water flasks and other miscellanea that would hasten their departure from the craft.

Hera felt her breath force out between her compressed lips - she did not realise she had been holding it.

"You dont know anything about me" she snapped out, her voice waspish and deliberately cutting.

She stood up, grabbing her dufflebag from its place on the seat besider her. She zipped it closed and hooked it over one shoulder.

"You're welcome to get yourself killed with all your talk, but Ive got other plans."

The transport touched to port, rocking the craft slightly as it did so. Hera paused momentarily, catching her hand to Baralai's shoulder breifly to keep her balance, and then moved to push passed this dangerous new aquaintance.

[Tear]

"Thats them. Yes, I heard them talking. Terrible things this one is for sure." The elderly woman tapped the ships passenger manifest. She repeatedly tapped two pictures of the passenger list, a women with striking blue eyes and blonde hair the other picture of a man brown eyes, brown hair but with a smirk that taunted those that took the picture.

"Now you're sure they were talking abo-,"

"Yes, yes! I heard them! Both of them" The eldery woman began to panic now pointing back to the transport whos passengers where still disembarking. "My son, you know, he enlisted in the armed forces just like you." The elderly woman smiled, softing her wrinkled features. "I'm so proud. I wont let any harm come to him so if you catch these two he'll be safer out there wherever he is, please catch them." The aged womans hand's trembled softly while they

The storm trooper gave a slight nod before turning and walking back to his squad captain."Dunno sir, she seems a little out of it. She said she has a son in the forces maybe shes just worried for him. My mom does the same thing. Been sending me messages to my barracks everyday since she got news of Endor." The storm trooper shrugged his shoulders the only real sign that a human being was incased under the bone white armor of a stormtrooper.

"Better to be safe then sorry, Denaro. You recieved the same briefing I did, its martial law now. If there were any Jedi left out there, now will be the time they think we are at our weakest. Cant afford to let one of those fanatics on Coruscant. Its too late anyway I've already made the call."

"Aye sir..." Private Denaro stiffened at the thought. The Inquisitors were on they're way.

"Until they arrive set a parameter and order the passengers to stay onboard until quarantine is completed. Inform them martial law has been declared and certain protocals need to be adhered too. Well? Move out." The Captain smacked the nearest trooper in the side of the head, snapping the rest into motion as they moved in on the transport.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai looked out the window and saw the storm troopers speaking with another. Some woman had ratted them out. . .Baralai looked at Hera. Seeing the storm troopers rack up in attention he tapped her and whispered in her ear.

"You see those people out there," he pointed to them, "they're going to kill us unless we kill them. Now then, you know about the new law, killing all force users. If we fight together we can get out of here alive." Baralai reached into his coat and placed a hand on his whip handle, this was going to get ugly. . .fast.

He looked over at Hera, "What's it gonna be? Die here or get out of here and have a chance to get back at me later?"

[Hera]

"Maybe you weren't paying attention when I told you I had other plans" she hissed over her shoulder at him.

Hera had been correct in her assumption that this man was dangerous, but she had not calculated that his recklessness in approaching her so obviously would have put her in such immediate and unavoidable danger. The encircling Stormtroopers forming up outside was about as unavoidable as it gets.

The frell if she would entrust her escape to him, or help him get out of the fix he'd got them both into.

Slipping her fingers into an outter pocket of her duffle, Hera took out a small magnetically-mountable thermal detonator. The bomb was encased in a pliable modified clay, not unlike childs plastisine, that made the explosive inside difficult to detect by the generic weapons-detectors upon boarding.

Scrapping away a small portion of the clay, Hera deftly attached it to the underside of a passenger seat armrest and popped the 1 minute timer.

"You got 60 seconds" she told Baralai.

She then flashed him a cold hard stare.

"Dont follow me. If you get out of this, I promise to come pay you a visit."

Her tone left no doubt that the visit would not be of a friendly nature.

She pushed passed a Bothan lifting his young offspring to his hip, jostling him so he banged his head on the overhead compartment.

With a final glance at the Sith behind her, she then pushed forward, losing herself in the shuffling throng as they all surged toward the forward section of the craft.

[Y'roth Helghast]

"Sir! Master Helghast, Sir!"

The dull lights of the room flickered on as IMP-IPN-X7 activated them. Helghast squinted before stretching in the simple cot he slept in. languishly moving to sit up, he rubbed his eyes and then ran his hand through his hair slowly. There was never a real rush or emergency. Even when the Battle of Endor had occured, the Inquisitoriate, at least the deeper departments of it, had not been phased. But IMP had been designed with efficiency and thus often exerted a false sense of urgency as the general concept of most military functions was "hurry up and wait."

"Report IMP."

"Sir! The Inquisitoriate network is active with a reported arrival of two possible force users. I've tracked the report and prepared a summary for you. I also made sure that it made its way to Inquisitor Valten. A detachment is preparing to quarantine the area as soon as possible."

"Stall any other unit from taking the job until I get word from Valten. Simulations can only bear the squad's morale for so long. Send him word they we are already prepped to move out. Notify and activate the rest of the squad. No longer than 15 minutes to be in gear and deployable."

"Sir, it is done."

* * *

The lights in the PN barracks flickered on a floor below Helghast's seperate room. IMP's automated voice came over the intercom in a loud blare.

"Project Nightmare is code red in 15, repeat, Project Nightmare is code red in 15."

Scothis snapped up from his top bunk in the small room he shared with Crestmere. He was a light sleeper and had been waiting for another drill like this. He always liked the urgent ones with little time to waste, gave it a sense of more real proportions. Reaching into his own locker, he withdrew the first layer of the Nightmare gear and slid it on while he did a systems check on everything else.

"C'mon Crestmere, drilling to do."

"This is not a drill, repeat this is not a drill!"

"Yeah whatever, 'nother test. Let's move."

The rest of the squad awoke as well, suiting up and running systems checks with practiced efficiency. Helghast knew that 15 minutes gave them time to spare.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai looked at Hera as she walked out. . .60 seconds she had said. He smirked and began walking outside, lighting a cigarette up as he headed out of the ship. He saw the storm troopers gathered there and approached one. He looked at him, "Hey, there's two people in there claiming to be force users, thought you might want to know." The storm trooper made no attempt to run inside the ship, but instead kept his eyes on Baralai.

"This is a military lockdown sir. Martial law has been declared, we are not allowed to let anyone leave the area."

Great, Baralai thought. . .just great. He walked as far away as possible from the ship and kept his hand tight on his whip. The several storm troopers circled the ship and walked around it staring at it. A few went inside.

"3. . .2. . .1. . ." with one loud boom the ship went up in flames. Baralai looked around, not running, not making it seem as though he did anything. However, he did act suprised the ship had blown up. That in and of itself was amazing. So Hera had done something. Well, Baralai looked at the storm troopers hoping that he would be able to get out with something.

He stood awaiting anything that came his way, his hand tight on his whip.

[Tear]

"Least we know the call wasnt a false alarm." Tear said, smiling as he watched flaming chunks of debris scream into the air from the landing bay.

The gunship veered back on course, the pilot having been momentarily scared off it by the sudden explosion. "Haha! You ready?" Tear screamed over the pulsating beats of the engine. Various clicks, zips, echoed back to their commander and cheif as the Inquisitoriate troopers nodded with weapons ready. "Good." A single foot from each trooper began to stomp the ground in unison, like wardrums of old.

Black smoke seeped into the sky like thick oil but like a silver needle the attack ship pierced through dipping down close to the wrecked transport.

The drum beats silenced suddenly as crimson clad soldiers fell a short distance from the sky. "Form a parameter around the storm troopers. No one leaves, Civilian, soldier or otherwise if they try..." The Grand Inquisitor didn't need to finish the sentance, an elderly woman was stumbling from the flaming wreckage that surrounded the transport. She crumbled suddenly to the ground, a soft tail of smoke trailing from the side of her face, Tear holstered his blaster.

The Inquistior's cold blue eyes surveyed the scene as he stalked forward, flanked by two of his soldiers. Storm troopers were standing their ground, however shaky it was, they were holding the are around the ship. Charred bodies of both storm trooper and passengers laid in pieces around the ship, filling the air with the stench of burned flesh.

Then something caught his eye. Most of them were trying to flee, cowering in fear, sobbing desperately, trying to save loved ones all except that one. The Grand Inquisitors eyed slid to a man who was standing defiantly his hand in his coat. He was ready for something but what was it?

Another step closer and his face was recognized from the crew manifest. "The male has been spotted." Tears lips peeled back into a toothy grin, briefly puckering his lips as he blew the man a kiss. A gloved hand lazily dropped to his waist plucking the metallic cylinder that had been hanging there.

"You're in trouble now."

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai watched as the man stepped closer. . .well then, this was going to get interesting. Baralai grabbed his whip and in one quick motion he cracked it on the ground and the blade lit up. He stared at Tear, his eyes glaring.

"Do it. . .and I swear you'll regret it." Baralai threw his cigarette to the side. They'd found him out, but he wouldn't go out of here easy. He smirked as the whip scratched the ground. He looked at Tear awaiting any move he would make.

Unsuspectingly Baralai reached out throught the force and picked up a stormtrooper chucking him at Tear. As the storm trooper flew at him, he picked the whip up and swung it at Tear, the blade flying at him. Baralai stepped forward swinging the whip with each step, attempting to land a hit on Tear.

[Hera]

The explosion burst up and outward with devestating effect.

An enormous gaping hole in the rear section of the craft billowed oily smoke and balls of flame. Those unfortunate enough to be in its epicenter were obliterated upon detonation. Those in the immediate vicinity did not have even that small mercy.

Individual wounds were horrendous. Limbs severed or destroyed beyond repair, bodies shattered with hot peices of twisted metal and debris. Blood everywhere. Moans of pain and cries for help began and grew in a building, heartbreaking chorus.

The shockwave from the contained blast felled other luckier passengers further up the aisle floor, with only some of them catching the hurtling shrapnel in their backs, or having their ears bleed from burst drums.

Everyone was scrambling for safety. Disorientated and shocked numb, they all retained somehow the flight instinct common to all living creatures and were locked in desperate struggle to escape the wreckage.

In such confined quarters as the hulk of the transport, the mayhem was total.

Hera hung back at the foward exit, allowing the more mobile to flee ahead of her. From her vantage point, she saw Baralai cross the hangar floor and speak to a stormtrooper. Her immediate reaction was that he had, indeed, been a plant to draw out force-users. However, it was clear in a few short moments that was not the case as he took a very deliberate defensive stance, dropping his hand to his whiphilt.

That was all she had time to see of him before the Port Authority Emergency Response Units arrived, their sirens blaring and lights whirling in a frenzy. Their vehicles crossed the Stormtrooper line, breaking their formation momentarily, much to the angry protests of a lead Trooper officer. After a short, but unbending explaination by the Ports OIC that dealing with the disaster took precendence to an arrest where the Port Authority was concerned - there could be more explosions, everyone was still in danger. Had the Stormtooper Officer thought of that? The EMR personel filed out of their units and up into the smoking craft unhindered.

Outside the transport, hoverships had arrived and were spraying flame retardant green foam into the broiling fire and smoke of the detonation site, coating everything and everyone in thick wet green froth.

Hera saw her opportunity and moved back deeper into the craft to the wreckage. Stooping to a young woman, whose gapping wounds in chest and head were still, but just barely, pumping deep red blood from her body, Hera dipped the side of her head and half her face in the dark pool. Doing similar with her shirt, Hera looked as if she had been mortally wounded. Moving still further into the wreckage, she got partially covered in the green foam. She was now nearly unrecognisable as the same person of a moment ago. Taking a place in between two grotesquely twisted passenger chairs, she watched. And waited. The young woman whose blood she'd borrowed stared back at her with the now lightless black eyes of the dead.

[Victor Crestmere]

Victor jumped out of bed just as Scothis began his yelling. Running straight for his gear, Victor began suiting up. They were only given 15 minutes to get ready and Victor had got done in 10. He loved the rush of the call. No room for error. You had to be their on time or you didn’t go. Then, if you didn’t go, you had to answer to the Inquisitor Valten, which meant you were frecked.

"C'mon Scothis! Major Helghast wanted us geared up and ready move out 10 minutes ago."

Master-Sergeant Bren’lar Scothis may have been ahead of Victor rank wise, but Victor didn't care. Victor would treat anyone, above or below him, the same way if they were holding up a mission. Taking one last look at Scothis before leaving the room, Victor said, "If your not up there in 3 minutes, we're leaveing without you." Scothis turned around and shouted, "Shut up! And move out Crestmere!" And with that, Victor slipped on his helmet and started making his way towards the briefing room. Tapping his comm to Helghast channel, Victor said. "Major Helghast. Status report: Scothis is still getting ready and I am on my way to the briefing room now. Crestmere out!"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Crestmere was almost tripped, slamming into the wall to support him. Naomi, in full gear but for her helmet stood to the side with a smug smile on her face.

"I don't remember this being a contest, Vic? And to even nark on Scothis. Tsk Tsk. You really should watch where you're going next time."

She was already down the hallway by the time she had finished her taunting him. She slid her helmet on as she turned the corner, her black silk hair disappearing beneath it.

Scothis and Jerrard came out of their rooms at about the same time, Crestmere already having followed Naomi out. Horus came behind Jerrard as they shared a room as well.

"Vic's just too good at putting his pants on."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Bren'lar. I think Naomi sleeps in her gear."

All three donned their helmets and doubletimed it to the briefing room.

Inside were five chairs before a holoprojector. To the side was a console and lining the walls were blueprints and mappings for long term missions. Naomi and Victor had already taken their seats, the both of them in a heated discussion over the possible objectives of the currently unknown mission. Even for a phantom of the Empire, Naomi had a spitfire attitude, rarely letting something pass by without getting verbally assaulted. Victor was harder to just profile as a single person. Victor adjusted himself to each person differently, seemingly involuntarily mimicking them just out of habit in his profession.

Helghast detested "social interaction" on most of its levels, being institutionaly raised had such effects. but he understood Crestmere well enough. Crestmere needed to talk to people, communication allowed him to work his way into their minds so he could duplicate their thought process. It was actually remarkable how he did it, almost pure instinct.

Jerrard and Scothis took their seats, Horus right behind them. Jerrard was Helghast's second and the squad trusted him with their lives. Jerrard was as much a cold blooded killer as the rest of them but his mercy was limitless when it came to keeping the squad alive. Defining mercy was another story though.

Scothis attitude reeked of survival. All of his gear was secured and maintained to last the optimum amount. Helghast had no doubt that the man would out live him.

IMP floated into the briefing room, accessing the holoprojector and dimming the lights. The conversations stopped and Helghast entered the room in full gear, minus the helmet.

"We've just had report of an explosion in the mission area. Reports say it was possibly the fuselage. From what I've examined, the blast was most likely caused by a standard thermal detonator. Here are our targets."

Two faces appeared, the 2d pictures expanding and becoming full 3d rendered profiles of the two. The female looked like she had just eaten something sour and the projector seemed to make her eyes more brilliant than normal. The man looked like the scum you would expect to get caught eventually.

"One male, one female. Both alleged force users. Grand Inquisitor Tear is currently in route. The situation suddenly seems less drastic, I'm sure. But all other units have been prevented from actually entering the area. IMP has redirected them to locking the sector down. By the time we arrive, anything that is still there, will not be able to leave the sector. Once the targets are confirmed, the civilians will be sifted to another area. We will be deployed then, with as few witnesses as possible, to perform a clean up. These are reported as alleged dark force adepts, I repeat, dark force adepts. These are supposedly not jedi and thus are more likely to take more... aggressive tactics.

Lt. Jerrard, if our targets cannot be confirmed with ease, you will be in charge of profiling them. If at all possible, the targets are to be kept alive. Sedated preferably to prevent the use of their... talents. Lt. Lang, I want an examination of the explosion to confirm the cause. If it was a force ability that we are not aware of... Mst Sgt Scothis, you will position yourself here..."

The projection became a 3d diagram of the mission area. There was no roof to the docking bay but there was a small maze of catwalks above the area, perfect for camping.

"... And keep us informed while providing support. Sgt Mjr Crestmere and Sgt Mjr Horus, you two will follow me in while the others complete their objectives.

The shuttle is ready for our deployment. Nightmare squad, move out!"

The lights flickered on and the doors leading to the deployment bay opened. The squad rose and were out in seconds. Their weapons awaited within the shuttle. As Helghast took his seat by the door, he cinched his helmet down. Hitting the comm, Y'roth accessed IMP's link.

"IMP, keep tabs on the reports. We'll be in the hot zone in two minutes."

Checking the chronometer in the corner of his HUD, Y'roth noted it had taken them 14 minutes all together to deploy.

[Tear]

"Such Bravado." Tear's lightsaber sprang to life into a pillar of thick orange, cleaving straight through the thrown stormtrooper striking the whip with enough force to send it recoiling back to its master.

Another lash came from the lightwhip, then another, and another, "Such confidence." The Inquisitors eyes squashed to slits as concentration furrowed his brow and clenched his teeth. His muscles burned painfully, however well trained they were, straining with every movement to keep up with lighting fast strikes of the whip.

He was brash, over confident in his skills with the darkside. The lightwhip was alarmingly fast, almost fataly so, but it had it's weakness. The whip could only maintain its momentum for so long before being pulled back like a fishing rod about to be cast again.

A growl worked its way up from Tear's chest, his muscles twitched and shivered as he gave into the anger. The darkside rushed in, filling the gaps of mercy and compassion.

"They will be your undoing." Tear's lips ripped apart in a snarl, slamming his saber against his opponents whip cutting its momentum in half. In the single moment Baralai took to reel back his whip Tear visciously lunged forward. The Inquisitor reached back, both hands tightly consctricting his saber hilt as he swung down, catching Baralai by surprise. His left elbow connected solidly with a resounding crack against Baralai's Jaw, letting go with his right hand, an open palm struckforward into the opposing dark siders chest. The resulting force push was if Baralai's waist was connected to an overextended bungee rope that had suddenly snapped back, pulling the force user with it.

The Inquisitor's chest heaved with obligation to his laboured body. A soft trickle of blood fell over his top lip coming with it the iron taste of consequence for using the corrupting edge of the darkside. Wreckless power had its consequences...

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai flew backwards and slammed into the wall, his body colliding hard with it. His whole body ached from where he had been pushed. His back was throbbing, and he could feel the force of the wall on the back of his head. He stood back up and cracked the whip again.

"You'll die for your sin. . ." Baralai smirked and looked back at Tear. He threw his whip forward and wrapped it around the blade of Tear's lightsaber. He smirked and yanked the whip back, pulling with it Tear's blade. He grabbed the hilt with his left hand and let his whip rest once again. He deactivated the saber and clipped it on the inside of his coat.

"Now then, the fun begins. . ." Baralai deactivated his whip and stored it back in his coat in one quick motion.

Reaching out through the force, Baralai sped himself and in a matter of seconds he had reached Tear. As he reached him he dropped down on his hands and spun in 360 degrees, extending his legs. Tear's legs flew out from under him and he crashed to the ground. Baralai stood and attempted to slam his heel into the chest of Tear, his foot coming down on top of him.

[Hera]

The medics were moving methodically through the craft toward where Hera was positioned.

With crisp efficiency borne of ingrained training, the EMR personel assessed the situation, checked each prone body as they passed for life signs, and either stopped to further investigate or continue forward as the case dictated.

Hera had hoped for a wet-behind-the-ears rookie to be her man, but she was not to be so lucky - the majority of these attendents bore the confident body language of a veteran. Even so, if she was convincing enough, this would work to her advantage. A vetran would be obeyed without question. The trick was, not to let them get too close to discover her wounds were bogus. Not yet anyway.

As a tall figure moved toward her through the shadowy gloom of the crafts length, his large frame spliting the thick smoke and blinking haze of emergency lights, Hera lifted a shaking hand to halt him. Her voice thick with pain and gritted effort she called out unsteadily to him, abject fear palpable in every syllable.

"Stop! Stop.....she, she" the medic looked down to where Hera was gesturing. The empty stare of Hera's blood donor met his gaze. "I think...she......another b-b-bomb"

The medic froze where he was and jerked his head to look back up. "Where? Where!" he demanded.
Hera winced in dramatic fashion, obviously unable to articulate further. It was only the desperate expression on her face that told the medic she was thinking the same as he. Any second now, another detonator might go off and they were most likely in the center of the kill zone. She certainly would not survive another blast.

The EMR attendant hesitated only a hairs breath before snatching up his radio grip and broadcasted to his fellow rescuers over an open chanel. "Evac! Evac! Possible secondary device! Remove all redeemables ASAP. Repeat Possible secondary bomb - remove all redeemables STAT!"

Reaching forward, the medic pulled Hera upward by her jacket lapels. She howled loudly, but exhibited no resistance, clutching her side only. Throwing her over his bulky shoulder, the medic spun about. Moving quickly but without panic, he made his way with grim determination toward the exit.

Coming down the gangway ramp, Hera heard, more than saw, the domino effect of her subterfuge. Below her amongst the throng of Troopers, Emergency vehicles and fleeing passengers, someone was hailing authoritively over a PA system for the whole area to be cleared immediately so the bomb squad could sweep through. All units were to evacuate until the accident zone was declared safe.

Bending her into an awaiting ambulance unit, her medic rescuer set her on a stretcher inside and gave instructions to the waiting attendent to check her chest wound first, then he left in order to assist elsewhere.

The doors closed, insulating her from the pandemoniom broiling outside as the Port Authority evac clashed with the containment orders of the Storm Troopers.

The last glimpse of Baralai she caught was of him struggling with a an opponent of considerable size.

She wondered if that would be the last she ever saw of him.

[Y'roth Helghast]

"Hey, we've got wounded people in here who need immediate attention!"

"This area is locked down. Martial law has been instated under the supervision of the Grand Inquisitor."

A driver of one of the many ambulances argued with a corporal as the entire line was held up. There was only one exit from this docking bay and it seemed as if the Imperials had just decided to grow a backbone against the Port Authority. Especially since the unit outside the only exit was of the Inquisitoriate.

The man combating the force adept criminal was the Grand Inquisitor, his Word crossed meant frell to pay and then some. The corporal saw it from his perspective as doing the injured a favor by not letting them get past him and his detachment of stormtroopers.

* * *

"Sir, Master Helghast, Sir. Reports are coming in that another bomb has been detected. The interior of the perimeter is near riot level. The Inquisitoriate has reported an efficient lock down, Sir. The Port Authority has also been silenced thanks to the presence of the Grand Inquisitor who has encountered one of the two targets, the male. The army detachments are slowly being rotated out with the Inquisitoriate units, Sir. Your vehicle has already been cleared for entry. A bomb squad has been called in, Sir. I rerouted the call, we are currently tagged as the bomb squad."

Helghast confirmed IMP's report and turned to look out the front. A pillar of black smoke rose from the docking bay, flashing alarm signals going off throughout the entire sector. Bomb squad was a good cover for the moment.

Jerrard was the pilot of the black air speeder and Y'roth accessed his comm channel.

"Lt, take us down clear blast radius."

Jerrard nodded and the ship took a sharp turn as it dived downwards towards the docking bay. The air speeder pulled up, Scothis doublechecked the his cable and jumped. Sliding down the cable, the scout easily landed on the catwalks above, finding a more obscure position to watch from. He immediately noticed the conflict between Tear and the force adept, a closer magnification of the scene gave Scothis the notion that Tear might have been bleeding.

The air speeder came down in the corner of the docking bay relatively silent amidst the cries and shouts of others. The squad deployed, falling out of the hold and immediately setting forth on their given tasks. An officer of the Imperial Army approached and then stopped, stared. Was this the bomb squad? An Inquisitoriate soldier, one of Tear's, grabbed the officer by the collar and roughly pushed him towards the exit. The other units of stormtroopers present were also ordered to exit the scene. All Port Authority personnel and civilians were kept inside. The site was now on exclusive lock down by the Inquisitoriate.

Lt Lang was crouched off to the side, a scanning unit at her feet. What would've taken three men, Lt Lang was profficient enough to do alone. She did an area sweep of the debris, awaiting the results to come in a minute or so whether or not there was indeed another explosive and if so, where.

Lt Jerrard moved to the first ambulance in line, a man driving it was still arguing but with an Inquisitoriate soldier now. The soldier had yet to respond and most likely would not have regardless unless absolutely necessary. Ylor caught the attention of the ambulance driver who suddenly went quiet. The CMC armor was designed to inspire fear and it did it well. Ylor smiled beneath his faceplate as he neared the window of the ambulance.

"Let me take your mind elsewhere."

The man did not even get a sound out before the blaster bolt splattered his brains across the other door. The Inquisitoriate soldier standing a meter away flinched but did little else, keeping his guard. Jerrard stalked to the back of the ambulance, holstering his heavy blaster by his hip and drawing out his "Jackhammer" shotgun. Flinging the door open to see a medic and twi'lek, the trigger was pulled without a second thought. This would be a rinse and repeat process it seemed until Jerrard found what he wanted. She would be hard to miss, the picture was in his HUD.

Helghast, Horus, and Crestmere all ran to the side of the fight between Tear and the force adept. Helghast could clearly see the Tear's personal guard unit behind him and wondered for a moment why the force adept had not just been crippled and the ordeal moved onto the female. But he caught parts of the dialogue grunted between the two and it seemed the Grand Inquisitor was bent on teaching this force adept a lesson. Nonetheless, Helghast leveled his C-14 rifle and waited, the cross hair in his HUD maintaining the force adept's position steadily.

Seeing little productivity here for all of them to be present, Helghast pointed to Jerrard and then Lang.

"Sgt Mjr Crestmere, assist Lt Jerrard in locating and confirming the female force adept. Sgt Mjr Horus, assist Lt Lang once she confirms the scan for any explosives."

[Tear]

Fast, was the only thought that crossed the Inquisitors thoughts as he found his world spinning backwards. The abrupt stop of motion, didnt solve the problem of the spinning universe, actually it made it worse.

Tear had found himself weightless for about half a second before his back slammed into the ground with all the unforgiving potential gravity held. Maybe I'm the one being overconfident, Tear thought as he reopened his eyes, a slight groan escaped his lips when he saw what was waiting for him.

Twisting his torso, Baralai's heel glanced off of Tears chest slamming the ground just below his armpit. Tears arm flexed, consctricting around the dark adepts leg in a python like grip.

"Die for my sins?" Tear suddenly broke into laughter as he reached up clutching his former saber, his thumb on the ignition pointing into Baralai's stomach. "I am sin!" Lifting his leg, Tear used the momentum to force his opponent off balance, slamming him onto his back.

A quick nod was all it took for the surrounding Inquisitoriate troopers to move in, their weapons drawn on the dark adept.

Tear flashed a toothy smile at Baralai. His arm still around his leg forcing him into the ground while his other hand thumbed the ignition switch on his saber. One flinch, one second thought, one mistake was all Baralai needed to make and he would find himself cleaved in two. "Dont try it."

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai looked up at Tear, his back slammed hard onto the ground. . .there was nothing he could do. He was indeed in quite the situation, but there had to be some way out. Some kind of way to escape. He searched his surroundings, there had to be something he could do.

After what seemed like endless searching, he looked up at Tear, his head bleeding, and smirked, "You'll get yours. . ." he said under his breath. As much as he wanted to do something despite the situation he was in, there wasn't much he could do. He decided to let the situation carry him where it would, but he needed to think of some way out, and there would be a way out. Just as he began to think about the situation he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. The blow from the wall and the push was beggining to get to him.

Everything in front of him turned to a dull haze, and soon enough. . .he passed out. The blow to the head had given him a blackout. So there he lay, mildly aware of the blur of sound and color around him.

[Victor Crestmere]

With a quick nod, Crestmere acknowledged Helghast command and was over behind the next ambulance. Bringing her image up in his HUD, Victor proceeded to open the doors to the ambulance. Nothing but a civilian. Bringing his C-14 up to his chest, Victor fired one shot, that's all that was needed. Running to the next ambulance as the body of a Rodian fell out of the last one, Victor smiled. It had been a little while since Victor had killed anyone, but the rush was something that you could never forget.

Closing his hand around the door handle of the next ambulance, hearing the metal plates beneath his CMC power suit shifting, Victor took in a deep breath and flung it open. Inside, a women covered in blood and dirt sat on top of the a stretcher. Leveling his C-14 with her head, Victor began scanning the woman. Reading the woman’s bio that he had on his HUD and looking over the picture, things started looking promising. Quickly tapping the comm. link on his helmet, Victor whispered. " Jerrard, possible Force adept located! Requesting assistance." As the scan finished, Victor had a positive ID. Hair, face, skin, everything matched. Cocking his C-14 up and making sure it was still level with her head, Victor said as the blue sensors of his helmet seemed to focus and unfocus, "If you want to possibly live to see tomorrow, then you won't move!"

It wasn’t even a second after Victor had finished saying that, Jerrard stepped up next to him, Jackhammer raised in the air, aiming at the woman’s torso. Now that he had backup, Victor made the call to Helghast. Tapping his comm. Link to Helghast channel, Victor said, “Major Helghast! Female force adept located and secured. Bringing her to you Sir. Crestmere out!” Keeping his finger on the trigger, and Tapping his comm. link one again with the other one, Victor changed the channel over Scothis’s, “We’ve located the female force adept, give us a little cover over here and be ready if she tries to pull anything. Crestmere out!” So far so good. Slapping Jerrard on the shoulder, “We’re taking her over to Major Helghast, be ready for anything.” Jerrard, never taking his eyes off the woman, just nodded. Raising his gun up just a bit, Victor said to the bloody woman, “Places your hands on top of your head, and get out of the vehicle, NOW!”

[Hera]

There was a day when Hera could have silenced the armored dog with the simple pinching together of her fingers. The vice grip of the force would crush the man's trachea at her bidding and drop him to the ground where he stood.

But longing for the good old days was not going to help her in her current circumstances.

She flicked a gaze from the one blaster to the other sizing up her odds in such a confined space. They were not good.

Sullenly, she raised her arms and clasped her hands together behind her head as instructed, tucking into her sleeve the hypodermic she had snatched up from the medic instrument tray the barest moment before the soldiers had reefed open the ambulance doors. It wasnt much of a weapon as far as weapons went, but it might be worth something if she could just hang on to it.

In mesmerised, and fearful awe, the attendant and ambulance driver watched as the Imperials removed their patient without preamble.

Hera's eyes flashed darkly at the scene around her, a twisted pleasure passing over face at the mayhem. Some things still brought her joy.

Locating Baralai - he had fared worse than she so far, as told by his prostrate form on the tarmac. She felt the slender plastic of the hypo against her wrist. If she got the chance, and had no better opportunity, she'd stick it to him just for spite.

This was all his fault.

Prodded by the barrells of the two C-14's Hera walked slightly ahead of her captors as they took her to their commanding officer.

[Victor Crestmere]

Standing behind the female, Victor pushed her forward. Tapping his comm. link to Jerrard's channel, "Take care of the medic in the vehicle. Once you've finished, follow me while I escort the lady." Jerrard drew his blaster pistol and turned, aiming it at the medic. "With pleasure." With a muffled yelp, the blast bolt ripped through it's target with ease. Holstering his blaster, Jerrard pulled his Jackhammer from behind him, and followed Victor, keeping his gun level with the woman's back.

Tapping his comm. link to Scothis's channel, "You've still got us covered right? I don't want her to think she's in the clear and do something drastic. We've been ordered to take her and the other force adept alive." Peering through his scope, "Yeah, I've still got you covered. Scothis out!"

Everything was going according to plan. Both force adepts have been captured. Tear taking care of the male, and Victor and Jerrard the female. At least the male was putting up a fight. The woman on the other hand, tried hiding like a child. Who was she trying to fool? Luckily Victor was use to those kind of tactics, seeing how he was the Disguise operative for Project Nightmare. He had seen that move several times and he had also seen what had happened to those had tried using it, dead in the tracks.

“Major Helghast!” Victor said over the comm. as they approached him. “The female force adept, sir. What would you like us to do with her?”

[Y'roth Helghast]

Lt. Lang scanned the area a third time. Snorting impatiently as the third scan came up, she cursed to herself before loading the results into her HUD.

"Major Helghast, the area is clean, no explosives are comin' up on the frellin' scanners. It was a fake call, probably a distraction to buy the adepts their precious time to escape."

"Acknowledged Lt. Lang. Clean up and prep for evac, we've got our prizes. Scothis, get down here and secure the male target."

Helghast gazed down through his HUD at the male adept that had just been neutralized. The target had shown spirit and determination under impossible odds. Bravery could be accredited to him but after the last words that Helghast had caught, he easily concluded stupidity in place for the assumed bravery. Force adepts generally had sound discipline to wield the powers they had, some though... undeserving of such abilities.

"Major Helghast! The female force adept, sir. What would you like us to do with her?"

He turned, the HUD instantly scanning the female imbetween Crestmere and Jerrard. She might have been attractive to others but Helghast's sense of emotion had been removed some time ago and only the reminiscence of such a thing told him this. The next thought linked to that process was her face peeled off on a disecting table. He pushed that aside for later to finish the situation at hand.

"She hasn't resisted?"

Their voices were muted to all but the rest of the squad. Helghast was even more wary of a force adept who did not use their powers right away. They were the truly dangerous opponents from what Helghast had experienced. Patience and oppurtunity proved too good of a combination for a force adept.

[Tear]

"You'll get yours..." The dark edepts words blurred into a whisper as he fell unconcious. Tear's body stayed tense for a moment making sure his opponent wasn't actually playing possum before standing up.

"Probably, but not today." The Inquisitor responded solemly a flash back of particular cruel memories reminding himself just how bad his karma was. Wincing painfully, Tear suddenly realized how tired he felt now that the adrenaline was fleeing his body with the very haste it had arrived with.

'Think I cracked a rib Tear thought, as he bent down beside Baralai retreiving both his lightsaber and the lightwhip. Rolling the hilt of Baralai's weapon he inspected the foreign device with the awe of small child. Such deadly finesse it held, Tear had only seen the lightwhip used once before this moment. Such a weapon held so much danger for both an opponent and it's user. A blue eye curiously glanced down to Baralai's prone figure. He would have needed some sort of trainingto use such a weapon. Maybe a cult? Or possibly an old Jedi who had escaped the Empire...

Pain sparked its icy fingers through Tear's body, reminding the Inquisitor he hadn't escaped battle without a scratch. The dark one fought well. Aggresivly, although some what brash he held potential.

Wiping the blood from his lips with his forearm, Tear turned, leaving it up to the soldiers apprehend Baralai. "Sedate him and keep him that way until hes brought to his cell." Movement caught his attention, "What's going on over there?" A gloved finger pointed toward an assembly of medic vehicles and Inquisitoriate soldiers.

[Y'roth Helghast]

Helghast turned from the two commandos as he heard the Grand Inquisitor speak. Holding his hand up for Crestmere's and Jerrard's responses, Helghast turned on his heel to face Tear. Saluting with a fist to his armor plated chest, his comm directly linked to Tear's earpiece.

"Grand Inquisitor, Major Helghast reporting. We have the female adept in custody. The scene is currently under clean up."

Gesturing with his hand to the female between the two commandos. Clean up generally meant the removal of witnesses; removal generally followed through in a multitude of options.

"With your permission, the Nightmare Squad would take responsibility for both adepts, transporting them to the Inquisitoriate and following procedure from there. We can assure you that they will be more than willing to cooperate afterwards."

Another commando arrived, Scothis, who knelt by the male adept and started checking vital signs before reaching into a utility compartment and withdrawing a sedative. Plugging the needle into the male's neck, it was assured he would not be waking anytime soon.

"Our evac window is imminent, Grand Inquisitor. With your leave?"

[Hera]

Hands clasped behind her head, Hera walked onward with a calm borne from experience. She had been at a disadvantage before. More times that she would openly admit. She had been apprehended in times passed - her then fully developed force skills had suffered neutrerdom from the presence of Ysalamiri specifically brought in for that purpose. There were no ysalamiri now, there was no need.

But atleast, back then, she felt the confidence of a force user. This time, she did not have such comfort.

Still, her old nature was not to be surpressed. Her mind was every bit as sharp and her anger every bit as potent. The game had changed but little. The same golden rule applied -- live long enough to turn the tables on her tormentors. Make them regret their actions.

Ice blue eyes panned across the scene. Bit of an over kill, she thought drily. There were soldiers everywhere she looked and they were well armed and carrying out the systematic elimination of all incriminating evidence ie civilians and medics. Quite the production to apprehend two individuals. She twisted to look back over her shoulder with a poorly hidden sneer. Some one was scared of failing. She got another rough jab in the back with the blaster muzzle for her pains and twisted forward once more, taking in the bodies strewn about the tarmac which were now being zipped up into bodybags with a familiar efficiency. This looked like a routine exercise for these men. This was not a new scenario to them.

The Imperial purge may have culled ruthlessly and with great success the force users of the galaxy, but she realised as she took in the scope of effort being expended here -- they were still terrified of them ever raising up again.

Something greater than domination of the Star Systems drove these individuals -- or, at the least, drove their Leaders -- they must not lose this war against the Force Users. None must slip through their grasp.

It was as if Hera had an epiphany. She felt all glowy inside. What she possessed -- or would again one day if she lived long enough to fix herself again -- was something these fools could never have.

A curious smile tugged at her lips as her march came to a halt.

[Tear]

Tear blinked lazily, his eyes slowly scanning over the area around him. The civillians were being corralled like farm animals. They even held the same blank, dopey, look an animal would have as it followed instructions not knowing that, by following those instructions would lead to their deaths. Tear snickered to himself at that last thought, they were just like soldiers.

"Grand Inquisitor, with your leave?"

Tears head whipped around to face Y'roth. Project Nightmare had impressed him today. It had been the first time he had witnessed them taking action in the field and they did their job meticulously and aggressively. The Grand Inquisitor had been impressed today but only time would tell if this project kept its standing.

His sight trailed off to the female being lead away, she had an amused smile curled over her lips. Cold blue eyes caught hers and the Inquisitor smiled, although his was not one of simple amusement but one of malice.

"Alright, you have them. But," Tear held up a gloved finger to Y'roth in a chastising fashion, "I want them ready for interrogation when I arrive. Both in the same room. Give them some time together first and maybe we'll learn why we have two force adepts in our backyard."

Tear craned his neck in a curious fashion as he watched the woman being lead away. Something odd about her, she felt of longing as if she was missing something perhaps that is why she came to Coruscant, a family member maybe? The Inquisitor folded his arms bowing his head low in thought as he watched his men usher the force adepts away.

[Y'roth Helghast]

Helghast saluted once more and turned on his heel. The body language of the Grand Inquisitor has been directed at demeaning Helghast before the rest of the Inquisitoriate. Helghast understood the need of the action and accepted it without a second thought. Project Nightmare was a deadly rumor and for the Grand Inquisitor to impose his will in a superior fashion was the only way to sustain the equally impressive rumors behind Tear's throne.

Although, Helghast was more than capable of determining the proper interrogation procedure, Tear's orders would serve as suggestive guidelines. For example, Helghast found that when two force users were put together, they generally were given more oppurtunities than necessary. Such a thing would be done in dire moderation.

The male adept was now on a hoverpad, being transported to the black air speeder. The woman still stood between Jerrard and Crestmere. Y'roth could see the strength in her eyes, the will of steel, the discipline of a galaxy, and the freezing deadliness of Hoth. Helghast had watched Jedi Masters fall apart, dark force adept leaders snap, and even so called Sith under the Emperor's reign as the Empire had slowly but surely removed as many adepts as possible.

This one though, time stood still in her gaze like a prison. Y'roth wondered what behind those eyes, if he cut them from her skull and actually looked behind them. Would the prison of time be there or merely flesh and mortality? Snapping back to the here and now, Helghast assumed his role once more as Squad commander of Project Nightmare.

"Sedate the female. Bind their limbs down and send them to the JIF in the Nightmare Complex."

Pointing to a random ranking officer of the Inquisitoriate, Helghast curled his armored finger, the soldier immediately responding. The man was quite clearly shaken by the image of the CMC-400 Nightmare Gear but Helghast did not have the time to abuse the intimidation factor any further.

"Make sure that by the time I've reached TOC, that all civilians have been properly processed. The network has been routed and nullified, your orders stand under Inquisitor Valten. Go."

The Inquisitoriate officer nodded and saluted before breaking into a run back to his platoon, informing others over the comm. The Inquisitoriate soldiers broke into a flurry of motion as they moved to follow their orders. Helghast could already see the headline, "Insidious Force Adepts Wreak Havoc in the Hangar!" and the following lines that the Imperial Security Force had arrived and removed the two force adepts, unfortunately they could only save so many, which would be falsified reports of civilian eye witnesses.

"Nightmare Squadron, once the Grand Inquisitor departs, we exit and decontaminate."

[Hera]

Hera looked on as the man who was dictating her immediate future caught her eye and smiled thinly at her. Giving orders to his subordinate the smile soon evaporated.

She knew what smiles like that meant. Things would soon go from bad to worse.

Shifting her gaze, she watched as Baralai was loaded onto a hoverpad and was to all outward appearances oblivious to his present circumstances.

-- "Sedate the female. Bind their limbs down and send them to the JIF in the Nightmare Complex" --

Yes, this was definately a case going from bad to worse. Once drugged, Hera would fall to their mercy, and mercy, she felt certain, would not be very forthcoming.

Thoughts struck like lightening through her mind -- What was this Nightmare Complex? What did these guys even want? If they were convinced they were force users, why not just kill them along with everyone else? what was the point of keeping her and sleeping beauty over there alive anyway? These concerns raced through her thoughts, but found no anchor as her real focus was centered elsewhere -- namely, in placing a well timed kick to the wrist of the soldier who had moved forward, instrument in hand, to obey the order for sedation.

Standing passive up to this point, her sudden action took them by surprise and gained Hera a precious second or two of delayed reaction from those about her. The sedation device flew from the soldier's hand and he took a surprised step back.

Hera let the hypodermic slip from her sleeve into her hand and rounding on the man to her right, whom she understood to be Jerrard, she drove its spike into the area of his throat -- the one area where the gear was by necessity, thin to allow for ease of mobility.

It felt good to hit someone. Real good.

It felt even better to snatch the weapon from the man's loosened grasp as he flew one hand up instinctively to brush the offending needle from his neck.

[Tear]

By the Gods that was beautiful. Tear watched as the women moved like a living weapon, such intent, such purpose, she knew what she had to do and how to do it.

Taking a step back from the group of men the Inquisitor slimply folded his arms and watched, his eyebrow perked curiously to how the team would take their first real challenge.

"Well she's all yours." Tear said simply, a small smile brightening his face in amusement.

Damn she was good.

[Y'roth Helghast]

Helghast simply stared at the force adept with boredom. She was holding a Nightmare designed C-14 rifle. All Nightmare gear and weaponry, mainly the standardized weaponry, required the specific neural implant to operate. That weapon wouldn't fire if she tried, not like she would know that until it happened. If she had wanted to try this maneuver again, she might have taken one of their side arms. Unfortunate.

The Major was amused at the thought of Jerrard's ego though. A master in martial arts, this woman had just dropped him to his knees. He also debated whether or not she was using the force. If she decided to flaunt it, applying some advanced technique, she'd die faster than she had dropped Jerrard.

"Desperation... a wonderful motivational tool. When was the last time you had to use it? Does it feel good to know that you'd have to use it again so soon?"

The Nightmare Squad was a close unit, each member adding a synergetic effect to the overall outcome. The loss of Jerrard had spurred the others into action. Scothis had kneeled some meters away. his C-14-sniper loaded and three blue dots appearing on the female's stomach. Crestmere had rolled to the side and had his C-14 aimed at her legs. Lt. Lang, on the other side of the hangar also had her rifle drawn. Horus took a knee beside Jerrard, checking his status.

"Drop the weapon or be blown apart in three different directions."

[Hera]

She had expected a skull-crushing blow to the base of her head the instant she had the weapon in her hands, but none had come.

She had even expected the odd laser bolt to be squeezed off by the less disciplined of these men, but none had.

Interesting.

Hera straightened, sparing no attention to the murderous glare Jerrard directed her way as he rubbed his neck, as she replied to Y'roth.

"Why dont you come take it from me. I think you've got enough guns trained on me so that you'd be safe. You could even introduce yourself, so that we wouldn't be strangers -- keep it from being wierd."

[Tear]

In the background he watched. A soft chuckle echoed over the landing pad as a single woman held back a strike force of trained men and women.

Tear's blue eyes moved to Y'roth with a look of entertainment that had taken over his features, "Take her alive if possible."

The Grand Inquisitor kept his eyes on the group as he hopped back, taking a seat on a gunship that hand landed moments before the woman had began her uprising.

Curious. The entire time he had been trying to get a 'feel' for the mysterious womans presence. Even though Tear wasn't heavly trained in the force this was one task he had performed before and though he knew how to do well. Still he couldnt find her. There was a hint though, like the dim smell of a bakery down the street. The sweets were there you just didnt know where exactly.

Maybe she was the males apprentice? No, that idea was quickly thrown out. The man was brash and quick to react while the woman she was calm and collected, calculating and precise. She knew what she was doing.

Tear squinted his blue eyes stared intently trying to find what his abilitys couldn't uncover.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The Grand Inquisitor was a recorded force user; Helghast was sure he knew how dangerous adepts were capable of. 'Alive if possible...' was merely that, a possibility. And this woman was waning the Major's patience. She was not using any of her force powers and seemed to be just biding time for something that would not come. A name?

"We are nightmares."

Before Y'roth finished his sentence, he'd drawn his side arm from its holster and fired. Power suits generally looked slower than they really were but the CMC-400 Nightmare gear was tuned to perfection and it enabled a person faster reflexes and enhanced strength. Y'roth was already top notch as far as reflexes went, and with such a light weapon, the movement was unbelievably fast.

The pistol was a modified tranquilizer that Y'roth generally used for field interrogations. The rounds were adjustable in dosage unless there was not anytime to do so. In this case, there was not, and the round carried a full dose. The agent was designed by the Inquisitoriate, Y'roth's designation requiring a study in chemistry, the substance caused physical paralysis and agonizing mental anguish. Some of the scientists in the Inquisitoriate mused to call it, 'A Dead Man's Dream."

The nervous system was stimulated while the body was rendered useless. The brain could receive impulses but could not send out any of its own. At the same time, the brain suffered from severe delusions. The agent was originally tested on other alien races before tested on humans. Humans and their stable/unstable, depending how one looked at the information, minds reacted much worse to the DMD than other races. The only way to subdue the effects is a potent antidote.

A small dosage had been tested on Y'roth before, his own fears manifesting themselves in his delusions. Y'roth was fortunate to know that it had been impossible for him to scream or cry for he would have, given the chance. But Helghast had noted that in those he had used DMD on, their eyes became windows to their souls. He could see the demons of their mind and souls. Helghast wanted to see this woman's demons.

[Hera]

The words spoken barely had time to register before Hera was jolted back by the impact of the shot delivered with such cold-blooded efficiency.

Her mind had no time to decipher the information relayed to it from the pulsing sensation in her left shoulder as the projectile leaked its poison into her body.

Her fingers gripped in spasm on the weapon she still held and her eyes grew wide in slow dawning comprehension.

..the bastard shot me...

Hera wanted to scream every foul, filthy obscenity she knew at the leering face that seemed to come in and out of view like a phantom, but she could not form the words.

Her breath grew erratic and she felt her whole being begin to tremble violently. To anyone watching, the blonde Sith was standing stone still. The trembling was inward and in every single fibre of her body.

All color drained from her face and her pupils shrank now to tiny pinpricks of black in pools of crystal blue. The powerful toxin hit her respiratory system and major organs - the full dose administered put impossible strain on her heart.

Panic gripped Hera's mind. There was nothing she could do. Her limbs were dead weight and she could not even raise a whisper in protest.

Her heart felt fit to burst out from within her chest. She could imagine it swelling as rich bright blood filled its sinewy sack and, as a bloated and greedy beast, refused to release it to nourish the rest of her body. She felt it expanding, pushing against its own crimson seams to cram against her ribcage with each inward breath. It became a rock. A burning, unmoveable mass of molten blood and flesh eager to force its way free and gush its broiling magma all over her insides in all comsuming self-immolation.

Hera screamed at the top of her voice. Screamed, terror-pitched, and clawed at her chest frantically.

As the Nightmare crew looked on, the blonde continued to stand silent and stone still.

Someone observed blandly "She's stopped breathing"

Hera's eyes rolled upward, disappearing into her head and she pitched forward to the tarmac floor.

[Tear]

A wave of panic ripped over the tarmac slamming into Tear who had been focusing intently on the resilient woman.

Frelling! His gloved hands slammed the side of his head as the wave of emotions forced his spine to spasm and arc. "Gah" Tear exhaled sharply, he laid still his back flat to the cold durasteel of the gunship. His chest heaved deeply with each breath he felt a growing tingling sensation in the back of his mind.

She was afraid.

Tear rolled to his side, his movements sluggish and laboured as he forced himself to sit up. Movement in the group caught his eyes she had fallen with no action to try and brace herself.

"Shes stopped breathing." One of the trooper's, he couldnt tell who, voice echoed over the otherwise silent landing pad.

Tear sneered sickly, his cold blue eyes stared angrly toward Y'roth. He didnt have to speak to let his feelings known. He had wanted her alive.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The pistol was visibly reloading itself, another round placed in the chamber. Y'roth's arm sluggishly pointed in the direction of the soldier who had spoken out. Every other soldier near him dispersed; Inquisitoriate soldiers were supposed to be of the highest degree and to break that level of proffesionalism demanded severe consequences. Pulling the trigger, another round was fired into this man's neck. He hit the ground in a similar fashion to the woman. Any soldier properly equipped, such as the Nightmare squad, could detect the barest of life signs coming from both of the DMD's victims. Y'roth truly wished he could hear their souls screaming for release.

Y'roth's HUD noted that the Grand Inquisitor was still present and decided he might as well confirm the mission success. He turned to face Tear and found only contempt from his superior officer. Helghast made a sneer of his own beneath the cold face plate of his helmet. Miscommunication was a military's greatest enemy. Had Y'roth not followed the objectives as ordered? Both adepts had been captured alive and a prime example of insubordination had been made. What had gone wrong? Connecting his comm to the Grand Inquisitor, he would make this short.

"Grand Inquisitor, both adepts are confirmed alive and in our captivity. Project Nightmare is evacuating. Might I recommend that your unit does as well? The site will be decontaminated upon departure."

Crestmere and Scothis had the woman, Horus was assisting Jerrard. They would be out in three minutes.

[Hera]

Baralai was laying flat out on his back on a hoverpad, strapped into place inside the craft - Hera caught a glimpse of him as she was hauled into the black airspeeder by strong hands. She couldnt recall who he was, but felt she should know him. Her shins banged against the step-up edge of the vehicle before those same hands bent them awkwardly upward and dragged her fully aboard.

Again, another quick glimpse of Baralai as she was rotated around and strapped into a seat. She now faced outward where she saw another aircraft raising off from the tarmac - a stern face with intense blue eyes looked back at her. The cloying dizziness of the whole excercise left her gut lifting and falling in a nauseating roll.

Her breathing had levelled off, but it was still too rapid by far.

She had such trouble comprehending just what the frell was going on. Her mind was loosing the battle of holding onto what was fact and what wasn't. Images kept changing - kaleidascoping from the sharp, defined reality that she was a captive of Imperial soldiers, to the completely debilitating machinations of her own drug-seized mind.

By turn Crestmere and Scothis, her two attendants, altered in appearance from their natural uniformed state, to pug-faced gamorrean guards whose tusks dripped blood and yellow mucous from their tips.


As the aircraft lifted off, Hera's mind started to slip its moorings again and she began to be tortured by the sensation of a thousand Miyong beetles burrowing through her clothing and into her skin. She could feel their sharp serrated pincers tearing into her flesh as they tunnelled their little armoured bodies into their new found host. She felt them in her ears, on her scalp, under her arms, between her toes. The crawling sensation sent her into renewed spasms of agitation and screaming fits. Beads of persperation ran from her temples down the sides of her face the only outward sign of her chronic distress.

How long she dwelt in her own private little hell of Miyong bettles, or when exactly she was transferred from the airspeeder to the holding cell she now shared with Baralai, she couldn't tell. One hell quickly changed into another with her fevered brain manufacturing terrors of paranoia and physical torment, with only rare spatterings of cohesive thought peppered in between. The one clear refrain, however, that she clutched onto in the brief moments of lucidity was that.. these Nightmare jerks were going to pay..

Hours must have passed, for though the DMD had not worn off, it had finally disappated enough to where she could move minutely.

She rolled her head to the side.

Looking down the length of her right arm she realised she was laying on her back her arms stretched in a "T" on the cold, hard floor of the holding cell.

She forced her bloodshot eyes to peer out from between swollen lids which were veined with burst capillary vessels and focused with great effort on to Lotus who sat over in one corner of the room. For some moments, she struggled to determine if he was yet another nightmare or not.

Through lips that were dry and cracking, her throat raw and in desperate need of water, Hera croaked her first halting words in more than 18 hours to her fellow-captive,

"Are-- you real?"

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai awoke several hours later, in the corner of a room he didn't recognize. He reached down for his whip and found that it wasn't there. . .dammit. He stood up and looked over at Hera, who was obviously drugged. He brushed his black hair from his face and walked over to her as she uttered those first few words.

"Yes, I am real, and you need to listen to me if you wanna get out of here alive. I know we're not on the best terms, but if we don't work together. . .those men out there who captured us, will kill us." Baralai spoke with the most urgent tone, trying to remember what Sasha had told him. Let your emotions fuel the force, find a way out of any situation.

Baralai shook Hera softly, looking into her eyes. She was heavily sedated, too much to move more than likely. He looked back at the door and walked to it, and looked at it, for any seams or ways of getting out. He turned back, anxiously tapping his boot on the floor. . .how to get out of here. . .

"Damn. . .what do we do?" He reached in his pocket for a cigarette and realized they'd seized those two. . .bastards! Baralai looked over at Hera, "Well I don't suppose you've got any bright ideas?"

[Tear]

A small camera hidden in the ceiling buzzed softly as it forcused in and out on the specimens within the room. Standing in the hallway watching the video feed from a monitor mounted in the wall he watched. Arms folded, brow furrowed, Tear's thought were becoming riddled with unanswered questions.

This was a part he always enjoyed. Reaching out his gloved finger flicked a small button under the monitor.

Within the room Baralai's wrists and ankles become to humm, a soft, pale white glow came to life under his clothing as he was suddenly jerked from his position and sent colliding into the wall. The Inquisitoriate had both prisoners fitted with small cuffs that would become magnetized and pin them to any surface in the complex when activated. Handy for escaping prisoners.

As if aware of Baralai's presence, metallic coils sprang from the wall wrapping themselves around the dark adepts arms and legs, securing him tightly to his new prison.

Questions.

The door to the room made a dull clanking sound before suddenly hissing open to admit a figure. Tear moved through the room with what looked like a black medical bag in his left hand. Coming to a metallic table and chair, both of which were secured solidly to the floor under them, he set the bag down onto the table.

Tear turned around looking at both of them before sighing and taking a seat.

"Now before my colleague and I get to work on the both of you I want to have some questions answered while you can still speak." Tear shiftled uncomfertably in the metallic chair for obvious reasons.

"Why are you two here?"

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai ran his eyes over Tear and grimaced when he saw the bag. Having some experience in the medical as well as alchemical fields, Baralai knew that whatever was in the bag was not something he wanted to be involved with. He knew something terrible was going to happen. . .but what was the question.

After Baralai heard him ask his question he bit his lip and looked at him, "I'm here on a fracking meadow run. . ." Baralai threw his head forward, his whole body jerking on fire from this, "What the hell are you here for?!" He bit his bottom lip hard, almost causing it to bleed. He was filled with hatred for this man, why the hell did he have them here? He looked over at Hera, praying she would snap up and come back.

He remembered his fight with Tear, and one thing stuck out. . .he had used the force. He was a force adept. . .but why, why had they taken him. Baralai smirked and looked at Tear, letting his hair fall into his face.

"I beleive you have no reason to know what I was doing. Quid pro quo, if you want to know what I was up to, you answer my questions first." Baralai chuckled, he was trying to bide time, look for some kind of way out.

"Question number one, what's in the bag and what're you planning?" He looked around, for anything, anything he could use to get out of here. . .

[Hera]

Well, the man had said he was real, but he'd vanished magically from view and Hera didn't really know what to believe now. One minute, he was leaning over her, saying something, goodness knows what exactly - the only thing Hera had really registered was that he had very nice teeth. Then poof! he was gone.

She heard, rather than saw, someone else enter the room - her vision being limited to the peripheral reaches of her swivelling eyeballs. Twin bleary blue orbs roved the dimensions of the room. Oop, there was Baralai - pearly whites gleaming - pinned to the north wall. And, wait, theres a booted foot, size 11 atleast, nudged against a metal chair leg.

Another man.

Great.

The two were talking now to one another, and Hera confirmed logically to herself that they both must be real or her nightmares were dialling down to the point of inanity.

"Why are you two here?"

"What the hell are you here for?!"

Hera detected a theme..

Both the men seemed to be quite adamant in their quest for an answer, but Hera would be happy just to know where, in fact, "here" was.

She concentrated on trying to regain some movement ability. She flexed open and closed her outstretched hands, wriggled her toes on both feet..her shoes were missing..and struggled vainly to lift her head. Impossible. It felt like it must weigh 50 lbs.

Even such small results for her great effort, Hera felt her gut tightening in a wretched spasm. The pain of it was almost blinding and without realising it, she emitted an dull moan.

[Tear]

The corner of Tear's lip tugged with amusement at Baralai's defiance. He was questioning the interrogator? Even laughing as he did so?

Movement, small tiny flicks of movement caught his attention from the table infront of him. He would have taken it as a twitch or flinch as an after affect of the drug if it wasnt for the method in which they moved. Hands first and then a small rythmic wriggle of her toes like a ripple in water. A small groan escaped her lips suddenly. Yep, shes waking up.

Tear's attentioned focused back onto the Baralai who obviously didnt comprehend his situation yet.

Quid pro quo.

"Alright, I'll show you whats in the bag but first tell me your na-" Tear stopped himself as he glanced back down to the woman. Standing he hovered over he a gentle smile, that could have lured a giggle from a small child, slid over his lips. "What are your names?"

Tear looked back up to Baralai before turning his back to both of them. The sound of a zipper opening echoed through the room as Tears hands dove into the black leather bag.

"Well?"

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai listened as Tear asked questions. . .he knew whatever in that bag was not going to be good. He looked over at Hera and back at Tear, trying to think something up quickly, trying to keep them safe, so they could stay away from them. They didn't need the Inquisitoriate tracking them down, especially tracking him to the Order.

Baralai ran his eyes along the room still looking for escape, thinking. . .trying to think of something. He smirked and decided to try out his new name, "My name, you ask," he kept himself from smirking and looked at Tear, "Is Darth Ouroboros. And since she is incapacitated I'll answer for her. This is my sister, Trisha Lotus." He used his last name, but he decided to fake her first one. Hopefully this would keep them hidden from the Inquisitoriate.

He looked back to Tear, "Now then, my question. What do you want with us?" Baralai looked back at Hera, begging that she would stay asleep. If worst came to worst he would carry her out of here, but first something had to be done about Tear. . .and the magnetism of the walls. The situation was getting worse by the moment.

[Hera]

So. The booted feet had legs, as was made apparent when Tear came and stood over her. A soft smile played across his lips. A smile, oddly enough, Hera remembered.

She knit her brows in concentration, placing the smug features.

And then, as if someone had hit the "flash-rewind" button in her mind, Hera felt a jolt as recognition struck her. That same man, with that same coy smile, had stood and ordered that soldier slaymo to bring her in. Kraast. It all flooded back with the fury of a tidal wave and crashed into her head with brutal force.

The flight. The explosion.

The gun. The drug.

Nightmare. That part she really did remember.

Baralai was speaking again. In the short time Hera had been aquainted with the man, she'd found him never at a loss for something to say..


..So now she was Trisha.. Well, it couldn't make things any worse, she figured.

While Tear fossicked through his black bag, Hera twisted at her waist and semi-rolled over so that now, atleast, she could see what was going on, albeit in awkward horizontal frame. Baralai, who made a convincing wall hanging, flicked a warning glance in her direction. Even now, his intentions seemed to be to help her as much as himself. Hera could not for the life of her figure, why.

But the "why" would have to be discovered later. For now, there was a more pressing need. She addressed Tear's back when she spoke.

"You--jerks--got--any--water?"

[Tear]

Brother and sister? Seemed unlikely. The woman looked nothing like this liar. Dark hair, darker eyes while she was the angelic blonde hair blue eyes type. A simple blood test would find out for sure as per protocol when profiling fugitives such as these two.

Tear let a sigh escape his lips. He was getting tired, no rest since the fight not to mention he had spent most of the day working. He pinched the brow of his nose in an attempt to clear his head, wash away the sand from his mind. Why am I even questioning these two? They'll be dead in hours.

Unknown to most Tear was sick. Mentally of course, he had committed atrocities that send even the most noble and stable minded person crumbling to the dank garbage of insanity. But physically, his health was deteriorating at a steady pace.

Ever since Vader forced him into servitude. Using the dark energies he could manifest great strength and power with little training. Something admired by most and wanted by all. It came with a price though, like all power does, for each stroke of power he forced into the world the darkness would steal his soul for payment.

He couldn't remember sometimes. A side effect or a price you choose either or it was frustrating and for a dark user with a temper he had his own viscious circle of destruction killing him.

"Wait, Darth Ouroboros? Thats a sith title. Usually one of power but I can tell you're still learning. Which means someone has been or is training you." Right, I remember know. Find out why they're here and if there are more in hiding. The whip, that one on the wall must belong to a cult.

"As for what I want with you...Thats simple I want answers." Tear lifted several objects from the bag and placed them onto the metallic table.

"You--jerks--got--any--water?" The woman asked, her voice sounded groggy.

Tear turned around to see the woman half tilted in his direction on the table.

"With ice?" Tear asked, a smirking expression stretched over his lips, although he made a nod toward the camera watching the room.

The door opened briefly and Tear came walking back with Hera's water. Placing the glass, that was dripping with condensation, next to her face...just out of reach.

The Inquisitor stood quietly. His eyes glazed over as they scanned over his two prisoners. Leaning over he took Hera's glass and took a sip, droplets of water fell freely between the glass and his bottom lip as he pulled the glass away. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. Vivid images of what torment and cruelty he was going to perform in order to get what he needed. He day dreamed the same way a child would of being a superhero rescuing the cute girl that sat next to him in class. That is if he would peel the flesh from her body and force feed it to the closest person. Maybe the one hanging on the wall would like a taste.

He took another sip and placed the glass of water down further away from Hera. "Why did you come to Coruscant? Tell the truth its the last time you might be able to talk for a while. Do you really want the last word your tongue echoes to be a lie?"

[Hera]

She eyed the glass as it sat just out of reach.

How pathetic she was - useless as her limbs were, not even a clumsy lunge forward could get her what she wanted. It would only serve to confirm her weakness for her captor's entertainment.

The old familiar fury regurgitated itself as her loss of force control left her to the torment of the likes of men like Tear. She flopped again to her back, disgusted at her own inefficacy.

"I came for the shopping" she responded sullenly to his question.

At least her attitude was in tact. Her mind, as unanchored and moorless as it felt, was finally clearing enough now to form speech without drooling on herself. That is, what little drool she had to spare -- her mouth felt so parched, it reminded her of the dustbowls of Dantooine in the late season, where even the bone-dry earth got fed up with drought and cracked its surface in octagonal bricks of protest.

"Tell you what" she croaked indelicately, "Give me a drink of that water and we can have a chat. Civil, like." She fixed one blue eye on Tear in profile and added, "Thats what you want right? Information?"

Hera knew what would be coming. The standard interrogation(or not so standard, who knew with this lot?) -- the back and forth shadow-boxing. And then, when they got all they thought she and pin-up-boy over there had to give, it would be lights out for the both of them. Permanently.

She coughed, or hacked rather, a dry bark for emphasis.

"Seriously... a drink"

She lifted her hand and stretched it out toward the glass. She saw Tear consider moving the glass to her, but then decide not to.

A humorless smile came to her lips. So, he was unnecessarily cruel.

~ He ought to be a Sith ~

She had not meant to say it aloud. She had not even realised she had done so until Tear's keen gaze froze in reaction to it, and a small tick revealed itself along his lower jaw. She'd inadvertently struck a nerve. Well, well..

She glanced to Baralai to see if he'd caught it, but his expression was difficult to read, being skewd in her line of sight upsidedown positionally to where she lay.

She looked back to Tear.

"Course, you couldn't be a Sith, could you..." Her tone was deliberately judgemental.

She didn't wait for him to reply, but instead went on, clearly determined for him to know she'd glimpsed something in him that he perhaps had not intended for her to see. Her humorless smile had changed to one of calculation as she had recognised in that frozen look something intergral to the man himself. Her instincts seized onto it as a predator would its skittish prey. Seething inside him, just below the surface was a conflict. This man was in control of many things, that was obvious. But he lacked control of the most important thing of all. He had not yet mastered who he really was. Hera speculated he was a darksider who was in denial and overcompensated by hunting the very thing he feared himself to be.

"....You don't got the goods"

Her comment weighed in as more than idle insult. The baited words held the ring of a masters biting insight


"Really" Tear could not sound more disinterested.

"Yes, its true. Know how I know?"

"Im sure you'll tell me"

Hera started to laugh softly, the action causing her split lip to reopen its scab painfully. She stopped and lowered her voice so that Tear had to strain forward to hear her.

"Because I can smell failure all over you."

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai listened as Hera sat there, mocking Tear. . .and when he heard her speak of failure he began to stream into fits of laughter, his head jerking out at Tear. Laughing directly at him, letting the weight of the insult sink in.

Baralai saw the water in Tears hand and reached out through the force for the glass. He took it from Tears hand and threw it onto Hera's face, at least allowing some water to reach across and touch her lips, maybe even run into her mouth. Baralai smirked.

"You coward," he said mockingly, "You chain us to a wall and expect to get anything you want out of us. Be a man and fight, give us a fair chance, or better yet, I'll kill you where you stand." Baralai smirked and looked at him. . .

"I'm curious, what is your name?" Baralai let a soft chuckle escape his lips before he spoke again, "I wanna know which grave to relieve myself on after I kill you. . ." He began to laugh hysterically again, trying to contain himself. This man could do what he wished. . .but he would get nothing from Baralai.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The door opened and a spherical droid hovered inside. IMP was a little larger than a probe but not as big as the general interrogation unit. But it was far more capable, Y'roth had made sure of that. It zipped to Tear's shoulder, it's high pitched mechanical voice emitting at a comfortable volume for the Grand Inquisitor.

"Grand Inquisitor. Nightmare Squad Leader has arrived and requests that he might continue with the interrogation. Grand Inquisitor. Also, high priority agents are awaiting your... judgement in your antechamber. Grand Inquisitor."

Project Nightmare had delivered the two adepts to their cells only to recieve a signal that priority targets had been detected in the panic of the Imperial Sector. The squad had deployed soon after and captured the three, delivering them to the Grand Inquisitor's unit as was protocol with the Inquisitoriate's major targets. The Grand Inquisitor had the honor and priviledge of removing valuable personas with excruciating diligence.

Y'roth had no intention of subverting the desires of the Grand Inquisitor, but the prisoners were in the Nightmare Complex, and each soldier played their own part in the Inquisitoriate. He stood in the main chamber of the complex, storing the urban assault devices the CMC-400 Nightmare Gear could use. His helmet was still on, and his HUD provided a small window that allowed him to view what IMP could see. The adepts were a mess, the woman looked like she had taken a liking to DMD. Regardless, the Major eagerly awaited Tear's response.

[Tear]

Anyone in the room could see the Inquisitors temper flare. This was no sabacc table. There was no need for him to try and hide his anger. She had managed to hit a nerve. Twisting back, his eyes still on her he reached into a bag. There was a metallic scrape and a flash of metal before Tear hid his toy behind himself, like a child playing a game.

Tapping a small panel on the table behind him the section of floor Hera was restrained to rumbled suddenly. A metallic screech of metallic and iron gears grinding into each other bit through the room as the section of floor rose to the height of a table. Most objects in the room, save the chair, could be risen or lowered flat and flush to the ground. It was a safety measure put in place to prevent prisoners from shortening their stay.

Failure? What does she know of failure. She was broken or lost he didn't know which but she didn't smell of confidence.

Tear's clenched his teeth hard biting through the urge to kill the woman outright. He leaned down close to hera. One hand struck out grasping the woman around the neck. His anger found ground, an outlet to pour into forcing his hand to constrict around Hera's neck until he could feel bone and flesh being pushed aside.

"This Sith!?" His voice growled low, instinct and anger were ruling now.

His lips trailed just above her earlobe his lips peeled back in anger. Tears voice shrank to a hiss...

"Are nothing but fanatics. Brain washed to think "the force" is some mystical bond between them and their dark gods. It is a tool," His second hand came into view. The glint of medical steel caught Hera's eye as it came into view. "Nothing more." The blade drew a slow crimson line down her cheek.

Then like the sight of blood quenched some intangible thurst Tear straightened, releasing his grip at the same time.

"As for you...Darth. I'm sure your sister appreciates the splash to the face. As for that tongue of yours..." The Inquisitor lip turned crooked as he sneered at them both.

His eye caught movement and once again Tear was reminded of the outside world. The droid hovered silently awaiting confirmation. "Y'roth you may enter. I have a small request I go through."

"Trisha you asked for a civilized drink and exchange of information? How about a trade?"

His fingers nimbly danced over a set of keys on the table Hera was restrained on, A tiny confirming beep eminated from the console. A moment later the binds that held Hera released themselves.

The scalpal found itself twirling through the air to come diving down into the table right next to Hera's neck.

"Take your brother's tongue and i'll grant you what you ask. If you don't i'll let my Inquisitor deal with you. I promise you, he will make your nightmares come to life before you die." Tear's blue eyes stared intently at Hera. The thought of killing him probably weighed near the top of her options but if she was smart she would know escape was not a likely.

"Take your time."

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai watched Tears anger fly off the handle and chuckled softly at him. He was pathetic. . .then he watched as he pulled Hera from the table, her body coming down. His tounge. . .they were going to cut out Baralai's tounge. . .they were going to remove his speech.

Baralai drew his head back and looked at Hera, an almost inviting look on his face. He was above begging for his life, if Hera would do this it would show very little bonds between the Sith, the protection of one's brother. "Do not do this. . .kill him. Strike him down. . .you can do it! You are Sith! Call upon the power you are given!" He snapped his head to Tear, eyes glaring. . .

"And as for you, you freak! You call us fanatics! Look at what you do, who's sick mind works now? I beleive that our connection to the force will crush you. You use it as a tool just as we do you little child! You are nothing to the status of a true Sith God!" Baralai smirked at him, trying to think of how he could taunt him. . .

"But you're too afraid too admit your just like us. You can't admit it. . .so then, who trained you? Who taught you our ways? Who taught you how to be a fanatic?" Baralai laughed and then drew his head back. He lurched forward and spit on Tear's face, letting it drench him, "You're just like us and you can't admit it. But the more I think of it, you're only like us by your connection to the force. The rest of you. . .is filth. Unsuccessful, unworthy filth lying at the bottom of a bantha dung pile! You dirty little worm, you filthy writhing little maggot!" Baralai began laughing hysterical, his head thrashing about. . .this man was nothing. Regardless of what he did to Baralai he would not let him win.

"You will die at my hands," Baralai looked at him, his eyes flaming with rage, "and I will hold your heart in my hands until the last dying beat of your life." Baralai looked at Hera and then to Tear again, his eyes flaring. . .this would not be the last Tear would see of him.

[Hera]

Baralai's angry display charged the room with an energy each one of them could feel. Even Hera. It felt as balm to her body.

The small droid adjusted its position to hover nearer to the pinnioned Baralai, its viewcam relaying the video feed back to silent eyes beyond.

Hera rolled to sit up, taking her time, as Tear so generously suggested. The movement took monumental effort, though she did her best to hide it.

The scalpel dropped from standing on its point and lay flat upon the surface. Hera tweaked it with her thumb and finger, setting the instrument spinning in place.

The soft z-z-z-z as it rotated on its axis was in stark contrast to Baralai's outburst of rage.

Lotus wanted her to kill Tear. Wanted her to use the force... When was he gonna get it? She thought angrily. When would they all get it??

She did not lift her eyes to look at either of them, but kept them fixed on the spinning scalpel.

"You are quite wrong in your understanding of the Sith" she said to Tear as she dabbed at the crimson line on her cheek. "Someone has misinformed you." The scalpel slowed. Hera tweaked it again. "Its a pity. Even, a waste."

Now she did look at Baralai. Her face, though, was without expression. He was here because he was reckless. She had tried to tell him.. But the young in the force always insist on learning everything the hard way.

She took up the scalpel now into her hand and met Tear's expectant gaze.

"I wont be taking a brother's tongue.." a ghost of a smile as she added, "...but send in your hardhat and I'll gladly take off his"

[Y'roth Helghast]

IMP transmitted the entire event to Y'roth who was making his way to the interrogation division of the Nightmare Complex.

"I wont be taking a brother's tongue, but send in your hardhat and I'll gladly take off his"

Outstanding. She had somewhat of a recollection of Y'roth, of course she had never actually seen his face, only the Gear, which all the others had been wearing at the time of her capture. But her statement had weight to it. More to add to the fire. And the male was about to be socially castrated, if "Trisha" did not do it, Tear probably would.

"IMP, send a surgical droid to the interrogation division, we will be needing temporary implants."

The spherical droid did not speak out where it was but inside Y'roth's helmet it confirmed his order.

The door to the turbolift opened and Y'roth stepped into his domain. It seemed almost bleaker than the rest of the Inquisitoriate, if that was possible. And it was quiet, very, very silent. Helghast liked it that way. Three minutes away was IC-67 and Y'roth's favorite part of his job.

[Tear]

"Disappointed." Tears voice whispered solemnly as he snapped the scalpel beneath Hera's playful finger tips. He had hoped, against the stubborn nature of most prisoners, she would commit the sin he asked of her.

It would have spared her Y'roths interrogation and possibly gained a small touch of trust in Tear's eyes. But like most prisoners she needed to be broken of her sense of choice. Until the only choice she could make were the choices made for her.

His eyes were slow and calm his mind buckled but held against the crushing weight of his temper. Before pleasure comes business, he thought to himself as his cold blue eyes scanned over the bloodied edge of the scalpel.

His other hand wiped Baralai's saliva from his cheek. A disgusted look smeared over his face in the same way the spit did. "Thank you Ouroboros. I have been wondering about this for some time now"

"Droid come here." Imp bobbed alertly as its processors told itself Tear was referring to it and followed the order quickly.

"I assume you can both scan and run a D.N.A analysis?" The Inquisitor held up both his slimy finger and the bloodied scalpel.

"Yes." The droid chimed in its pleasant mechanical voice. A small click and square section of its shell slid back. "Please apply both samples to the test surface."

"Sticky." Tear noted in an amused voice as his finger dabbed against the droids scanning equipment. Tear switched hands for the scalpel and slid his other index finger over the blades edge, dabbing a small happy face into the surface with Hera's blood.

"Thank you. One moment." A small hum filled the air around the droid.

Pleasure. It was like a switch simply being flipped. Some invisible dam giving way to let his temper slam into and wash away any sense of conscience. It was freedom, nothing to hold him back it was just pure, simple, freedom.

A flash of motion directed toward Baralai sent the Scalpel slamming into the wall, which just so happened to have gone through his hand on the way there, pinning it.

"You talk far too much sithling. But dont worry I know how to correct such terrible disabilities." Tear stalked slowly toward his prone victim his medical bag in hand having just grabbed it off the table seconds before.

"Have you ever went fishing? Tied a hook unto a line and just cast it out. It's very relaxing. The lil' tug and pulls that happen when you catch a fish! The reward in reeling in your catch. Very satisfying." Tear reached into his bag pulling a handful of three pronged, curved hooks with small emitters on their back ends. He took one between two fingers and held it up to Baralai's eye for him to inspect.

"Very nice huh? Sometimes I've wondered what it would like to be that fish. To be ripped from your world. Writhe in pain as you gasp for air that cant be breathed. To gaze helplessly into the eyes of your smiling tormentor. Have you ever wondered? Wanna help me find out?"

"Here...bite down little fishy!" With a flash of anger Tear gripped Baralai's upper lip and punched the hook through it. The splurt of blood made it difficult to keep his grip but nimble fingers managed to find and tap the back of the hook, activating it. Like some invisible fishing line the hook flung back toward the wall stretching and even slightly ripping Baralai's lip with it.

"Hah...like that? Their magnetized." A sickening, toothy smile curled Tear's lips back as he watched Baralai's eyes water in pain. He took his time, adding a total of five hooks into Baralai's upper and lower lips and then two more into his gum's until his mouth was splayed open in some horrific, never ending scream.

"You wriggle just like a fish." Tear whispered into Baralai's ear. His finger tips pressed firmly into the nearest hook, a soft crunch sounded as the hook sank deeper into the dark adepts gums.

"Oh wait, that doesn't look right at all." The tip of his finger flicked the end of the pushed in hook testingly.

"Nope I think it could be too deep." His finger began to curl around the magnetic end of the hook, it was still doing its job pulling toward the wall, his grip tightened and slowly he began to pull.

"Tell me if it hurts." It' something you hear from doctors or parents as they scout a wound or injury in attempts to prevent further discomfort or harm but for Tear it was simply for his amusement. The slow pulling grew more intense. Tear braced his second hand over Baralai's bloodied mouth trying to gain more leverage, it worked. A sounded like someone pulling a strip of tape off of a flat surface but there it was, the hook swayed back and forth playfully in front of Baralai, Tear's grinning face just behind it.

Chuckling the Inquisitor tossed the hook into the air where it fell for a moment before flying and clinging to the nearest metallic surface. A sudden calm fell over the room as the torturer and the tortured took a moment to rest.

The Inquisitor took a step back as if admiring a piece of art he had just painted. In a sense it was his artwork. His tools of pain his brush and palette. The wall his canvas and Baralai writhing in agony his creation, sculpted to perfection. But it was still missing something. Like drawing in the eyes of any character it was missing its soul, its topic of discussion.

Reaching over, Tear grasped the scalpel still embedded in Baralai's hand. He twisted it slowly, back and forth, feeling the pop of bones being pushed out of place, until finally he let it slide free. A splurt of blood dotted the ground.

Tears hand fell over Baralai's face as it twisted in agony. He leaned forward pulling Baralai's eyes open. Blue eyes gazed back with wonderful enjoyment. Let him remember this face, Tear thought, let him remember that this was the face that brought him pain.

The Inquisitor maneuvered the scalpel into the bloodied maw, the hooks keeping it pulled open to the point that was far beyond comfortable. In honest he hadn't tested the magnets and was hoping they were strong enough to rip through his victims flesh or break his jaw.

His tongue twitched helplessly with the feel of the warm steel caressing its width. The Inquisitors forearm flexed as he pushed the blade down. Baralai jumped and rocked in his against his restraints. He knew what was coming next.

The Inquisitor took a step back. He waited until the dark adept had the will to raise his head to lock eyes with his tormentor one last time. He did, even with the steady flow of blood the was pouring from his mouth.

"Smile for me Ouroboros." They could feel it. Both of them the spike of hatred and anger enveloped the room overwhelming any other emotions present. It was like being swallowed in fire. An explosion in your chest fuming up through your throat until you could only breathe smoke.

Tear's face displayed a hatred that no human could relate too. His fist flung forward into the pool of blood that hid his target and without hesitation Tear ripped Baralai's tongue from his mouth.

Behind the mask of crimson that dripped down Tear's face he looked toward Hera. If she had any thought she might escape this place alive it was quickly fleeing the realm of possibility. Glancing down Tear grinned through discolored bloody teeth as he tossed the tongue toward the woman.

"You should have taken the deal." His eyes caught a flashing of color the droid results were ready.

"Results?"

"Negative sir. Prisoner's are not related by blood." It wasn't something that needed to be known or found out but any information was valuable information at this point. Tear simply nodded a smug grin on his bloodied face.

He turned to face Baralai who was simply hanging from the wall. He would die quickly if the bleeding wasn't stopped. He wouldn't die yet he still needed to suffer.

Bending down Tear removed a cauterizing tool. It wasn't much more then a handle with a needle attachment to it. The trigger at the end caused the length of the needle to glow a sizzling orange. It was like sealing metal plates together with a torch.

A spout of faint red steam hissed into the air accompanied by biting drops of sizzling blood. If Baralai hadn't passed out by now he would be after this. His flesh shriveled and tightened as the wound was sealed behind charred skin. The smell of burnt flesh quickly filled the room.

Tear wiped his nose with his sleeve. Disgusting, should have just let him bleed to death. He dropped, deactivated and gathered any tools laying about. He had left the hooks in but they were no longer wrenching the sith's mouth open.

"You should have taken the deal. Soon you'll probably wish you had" Tear's voice was directed at Hera but he sounded cold. His emotions however limited they were had been drained. With his master piece finished he could bask in his accomplishment from the confines of a refresher. He was done here. Y'roth would get what he needed from them before they died.

The Inquisitor walked to the doorway wiping a drop of blood that had fallen from his brow to his cheek. "Droid, tell your master to take one of his eyes as well. Left or right its his choice." The door hissed open as if on que with the summary of his sentance.

A sinister smile was left for the prisoners still awaiting their fates as Tear left the room a small glance back to Hera before the door hissed shut.

(jeez sorry for the long post and the quick ending. tired no more writing...)

[Hera]

It was a brutal act.

Bloody. And fascinating to watch.

And Tear went about the task of it with as much finesse as a bricklayer doing needlepoint.

True, he took his time splaying open Baralai's mouth, peeling it open like a ripe mango and plucking out the pit of a tongue. But the method was rough and crude. A man's method, Hera mused.

Hera had watched on, mesmerized, physically unable to interfere for any benefit to her co-captive whatsoever. But if her fixation was by the blood or by the man's pleasure in his task, one could not tell. Tear was enjoying himself, that much was obvious.

For Baralai's part, the young Sith did himself proud. Though pinned helpless, his rage was so thick as to be almost suffocating. It smothered the agony he certainly must have endured, leaving only a murderous, broiling tumult of raw darkside power coursing outward from him in ever expanding ripples.

Until he passed out, that was.

The young Sith's head fell forward, his sprawled form finding some succour in merciful oblivion.

Hera smiled inwardly.. Tear was a dead man.

One day. Some where, Baralai would have opportunity to return the abuse in kind. Hera almost envied the fledgling darksider. His hate would drive him to greatness. It would invigorate him as nothing anywhere ever could. Tear had done the boy a huge favor.

She curled her fingers around Baralai's dismembered tongue and felt its warm, wet slickness against her palm.

She would keep it for him. Make a gift of it to him one day. A symbol motivator. And reminder that sometimes a sublte approach to seeking out a fellow darksider is not such a bad idea.

It was unusual for her to play the part of spectator in such circumstances. The roles would soon change, as promised by Tear, but for the time being, Hera waxed philisophical in thought.

Whether it was the remaining toxins relaxing her sensibilities, or the fact that she had the luxury of front row seating at such drama that allowed her to freely anylize things, mattered not at all. She wasted no thought on it.

What she did dwell on, however, was the anomaly this man Tear was. His dedication to his military station must certainly be the fuel to his massive ego. The power, the authority serving to stroke his inner need. But the cruel and callous nature that pulsed throughout his personality was firmly rooted in the darkside. Hera was sure of it. What a tool in a master's hand he could be. Of course, he would grow into a threat, as do all good students of the force. But with the right discipline, the appropriate perimeters..the right teacher, he could be unstopable.

She watched his retreating back and the sinister smile as he glanced back at her.

What a waste, she thought as she decided she'd probably kill Tear before Baralai had his chance to. And pocketed Baralai's clammy tongue into her trousers.

[Hera]

She stroked the cushiony surface of the item in her pocket with her thumb and her thoughts dwelt on the horrors that might await her once the inquisitor returned.

Any moment, the featureless face would enter through that door - his anonymity well protected beneath the smooth, polished surface of his HUD visor. What to expect? Pain, most certainly. And more crushing humiliations than she had already suffered. But if her captors expected fear to be the most predominant factor in the object of their latest modis operandi, then they would be disappointed.

Certainly, to fear was only natural. The display that Tear had graced her with could not, by all laws of human physiology and psyche, be ignored. No, Hera was not without fear of what lay ahead. It was not what crippled her before them, though. It was, instead, her own inadequecy. Her own lack of mastery over her own gift. The loss of control. It was that one, singular reality that threatened to break her. And she knew it.

She slid her gaze over to Baralai, where he hung suspended like a butchered deer. The stink of seared flesh that left him with naught but a nub in his mouth still hung on the air like a rotting pall.

She dropped her head, her blue eyes burning back tears of frustration and anger. Look at them both....they were a metaphor for what the Sith had been reduced to. They were beaten, humiliated and ineffectual against those that in times past would have dreaded to even hear the word "Sith" uttered too loud.

An ancient song recalled itself to Hera's mind, a verse that remembered the defeat of the mighty kings during the Kwaylon clan wars of her homeland.

Her lips moved as she softly spoke the lines which now, today, held an ironic relevence to her.


We were gods, once
our fist from heaven fell.
To shake the hearts of men and maid
to break the moors of hell.

And we were gods, once
names scripted in the stars
And who to stand against our will
when we were gods..

If one were watching, the loss of all that she had suffered as a result of the purge - the loss of greatness of the Sith,the loss of home, of the few friends she'd had. The loss of dignity. The loss of her force power - all was visible in the bitter wretchedness that lined every inch of her face.

But even as the footsteps echoed outside on their approach to her door, there was one thought that Hera clung on to. One thing that had not quite yet been extinguished within her. And this one thing would be what her tormentors will need to destroy if they ever hoped to realise their total victory over her. They would need to remove completely the faint possibility to which she held - that she may one day find a way to restore her force ability. And win some of those losses back.

The door slid open and she took a last look at Baralai, whispering softly a promise to herself, and to him, that what was true before could be true again.

..And we were gods, once..

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai had been passed out for a long while it seemed. . .remembering nothing but pain. Pain and hate for the man named Tear. How could he do such a thing to a God? Baralai slowly lifted his head, as a dull scream came from his marred lips. There was nothing left of who he was. He couldn't speak.

He looked across at the room to Hera, his jaw hurt to much to speak, and even if he could. . .it would do no good. He felt so much pain he was almost dull. The one thing that mattered now was Tear had to die. He knew that it was a matter of time. A drop of blood ran down his cheek, and he looked over at Hera, sympathy in his eyes. For the first time in his life, he knew he needed help.

He needed someone to come and rescue him. Too much of this torture and he would be dead. . .he couldn't take this too much longer. He was afraid for his life, like he was the night he dangled from the balcony. He wanted his master back. . .he needed him back. For the first time in his life, Baralai prayed. . .

[Y'roth Helghast]

The door opened and Y'roth's HUD lit up with signals. The two prisoners were in a... stressed state of being. The male adept was looking at the female as if she was his last hope. Helghast entered, IMP floating behind at shoulder level as it relayed Tear's orders.

Take one of his eyes as well. Left or right its his choice.

Sir, you might find this vital to procedure, Sir.

IMP had been in the room and recorded the female as she had sung, zoomed in on her face and replayed the entire scene now in Y'roth's helmet. The sound was dampened, so to the prisoners, a Nightmare had just stepped inside and appeared to be gazing at them; dimly lit yet vacant eyes staring them down.

We were gods, once
our fist from heaven fell.
To shake the hearts of men and maid
to break the moors of hell.

And we were gods, once
names scripted in the stars
And who to stand against our will
when we were gods..

This was too easy. Tear had left them ripe, about to pop. Y'roth would not have been able to resist giving over such ample subjects. Force adepts always seemed to add more flavor than the routine interrogations. What beautiful verses though for such delusional minds to take grasp of. His voice still unable masked from the prisoners, Y'roth gave IMP further orders.

"IMP, we are going to make a repeat of the last sound board session. Report when you are ready."

Sir, yes, Sir.

Finally the statue of the Nightmare moved, turning to bring in a small table, rattling and clinking with the sound of metal utensils, a more stationary version of Y'roth's field kit. Finally, the sound dampners were turned off with a whim and his voice was emitted colder than steel from his helmet. His fingers were just as delicate in the armor thanks to its state of the art neural net as they sifted through the different tools available.

"Prisoners A-83417 and A-83418, the Empire requires your assistance in asserting justice, protection, and truth throughout the galaxy. Are you willing to comply?"

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai didn't know how to respond, nor did he have the strength. His whole body felt drained, but so was the side effect of having ones tounge ripped out. He barely raised his head to look at Y'roth and IMP. He glanced over to Hera, having heard the song for the second time.

His eyes glanced up to look at Y'roth, after he made his rediculous proposition. He wanted to speak, but thanks to his new disability he was unable to do so. He did manage to ball up a fist and extend a middle finger however. He felt he had got his message across and dropped his head again.

His hair fell forward and his whole body slumped against the wall. He stared down at the ground, at the red ocean beneath him. Gums, teeth, bone, everything littered the floor. He had never felt as though he was helpless before, but if there was anything that summed up helpless it was the inability to speak. He could do nothing and he could say nothing, truly helpless in every sense of the word. Even the force was not coming to his aid. . .

[Hera]

Hera's moment of sombre introspection evaporated as Baralai's gesture brought a rare smile to her lips.

"I guess our answer" she said simply, "is frag your Empire"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Y'roth's lips peeled back to a predatory smile beneath his face plate. The male gurgled noises from his throat, his vocals still intact but everything from the tongue and forward had been severely damaged. The female, oh so clever, and responded promptly with a generic answer, a disappointment to Helghast.

"Tragic. IMP, retrieve the emergency prosthetics, mainly a voice for Prisoner A-83417."

Sir, yes, Sir.

The door opened and the droid floated out of the room silently. Helghast withdrew binding cables and stepped before the male. Fluidly, the male was pulled up by his arms with one hand, wrists tied, and then strung up by a secure cable hanging from the ceiling. The Nightmare was more than familiar with human anatomy and paid little heed to what he did not have to. He examined the male's face, the HUD displaying detailed information as to how severe Tear's methods had been.

Stepping back to the table, Y'roth withdrew an injection pistol from a drawer and loaded a milky white cartridge in the chamber. Pressing the nozzle to Baralai's neck, a vacuum noise could be heard as the contents were forced into his system.

"A stimulant designed to keep a target awake for a minimum of 24 hours at the smallest dosage. Not to mention, your nervous system recieves constant checks to make sure you can feel... everything."

Y'roth examined the adept's eyes, making sure they dilated before his attention turned to the female. The blue orbs of eyes on the helmet vacantly seemed to stare through her but the voice that followed was clearly directed towards Hera.

"Stand up, place your hands on your head. Comply."

[Hera]

"Comply?" She did nothing to hide the distaste for Y'roth in her voice, "Maybe you've got some chemicals up those sleeves of yours that might counteract the crap you shot me full of earlier, and which hasn't quite cleared my system yet."

Truth be told, normalcy was gradually returning. Her arms were not as unweildy as before and she had been enduring a prickling sensation in her calf muscles that indicated some returning strength. However, she was not certain she could actually carry her own weight. Recovery from Helghast's drugs was a taxing process.

"You seem very fond of your little injectible vials, I might add."

[Y'roth Helghast]

"No, the DMD would not have cleared from your system yet completely."

Y'roth did not continue to speak as a series of thoughts rushed through his mind. Many adepts had succumbed to the effects of DMD but Helghast had seen some resist it for a span of time before collapsing under the mental distortion. And then some adepts had recovered much faster than expected, regaining their strength and control through their mind-over-matter disicplines. IMP's medical scan of the two had shown the female to be regaining nervous control. She would be active within a couple of hours. Although, it was not as if she incapable of moving; her willpower, at this point in the recovery, merely had to overcome what was left of the DMD in her system. All of this concluded to the vital point that the female lacked either the strong discipline generally accompanying most adepts or she lacked the ability overall. Her recovery betrayed her so far as merely... human.

"If you cannot stand on your own, I will assist you."

One armored hand grabbed Hera's wrist and, with ease, jerked her upwards. A satisfying crunching noise was heard as Y'roth exerted more than enough pressure. He tied one wrist down to the cable hanging from the ceiling, supporting her body weight with the other hand holding her by the neck. Within a matter of seconds, both hands were tied and her left wrist was either broken or worse. If they ever needed her in better condition, they merely had to submerge her in bacta. She would be sore and most likely scarred after such an event but she would be as healthy as needed.

"Female, I would have assumed after the Grand Inquisitor's demonstration upon the male adept, that you would have learned to at least attempt what you are ordered to do. If you do not, I will hasten the process how I see fit. And my "little injectible vials" are something of convenience, not fondness..."

Helghast's voice was distorted as he spoke next, the voice emmiter unit (VEU) producing a voice nearly identical to Hera's.

"...I might add."

The VEU clicked before turning off. Y'roth moved back to the small table, sifting through the tools once more. In a small dish of sterilizing fluid, he placed several utensils, one being a what seemed like a claw with a small drill protruding from the center. Others included a long syringe with several needles strapped to it by an elastic band, a thick disk with small hooks, and a serrated blade. Following that, he removed a long cylinder that he stood on one end. Turning the top and removing the core, it was actually a container filled with assorted vials.

[Hera]

Her joints burned as she hung suspended by the cable, her wrist especially sent her every nerve screaming down her arm. Hera tried to support her weight with her legs, but could not sustain it for any length of time. The result was her alternating between standing straight and slumping on failing knees like some ridiculous marionette.

She listened to her own voice repeating back to her from the HUD mask and watched as Y'roth unpacked his items, not surprised to see him bring out more chemicals. It appeared to be the mans forte'. And not such a bad way to come at a force-user, she conceeded. A person must use what was most effective.

For the Inquisitoriate torturer he must use his drugs and his technology. For Baralai it must be his force ability -- though, so far, she wasn't holding out much hope for him in that department. He had not demonstrated anything more than the simplest of skills. No, Baralai probably would not come out of this alive, she concluded.

As for herself, beggard of the one weapon that she had always previously relied on, all she had now was what she could salvage of herself from the ravages of her ill-treatment so far. Stripped to the bare-bone of who she was, there still remained, however, the mind, the heart and the discipline of a Sith Master. Hera still yet could be dangerous. Hopefully, and in not too long a time, no-one else would believe that to be true..

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai felt his nerves spring to life, and with it, his strength. All of his nerve endings caught fire, sending wave after wave of pain through his body. He had to do something, had to get out of here. His body ached, burned, his muscles gave way to every last bit of pain that had come to him in the past twelve hours. He was feeling it all over again.

Every punch, every pull, every last shred of emotion. Then. . .he felt something he hadn't in a long time. The feeling of the force coming to his aid. He ran through his memory, his body still burning. He focused as much as he could, focusing on Y'roth. He called for the force, to use it, to project it.

His pain, amplified through the force at Y'roth. He focused for as long as he could, doing his best to keep a grasp on the force, to use it. His pain, though constant, flew through his body at Y'roth. He had made a mistake by allowing Baralai consciousness. Now Y'roth would know the pain, the torturer becoming the tortured. His little vials would not save him now, the force had a grasp on him.

And as long as Baralai's hate for Tear and Y'roth flowed, as long as he felt this pain, so too would Y'roth.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The mechanical figure of Y'roth straightened suddenly, head snapping back in a jerking motion. The instruments were dropped to the table as his hands opened and closed involuntarily. Across his HUD, a series of windows opened, confirming that his body was seized with pain. Y'roth closed his eyes to shield himself from the glaring lights as his eyes dilated from the sensation. A horrible and rough hacking noise could be heard beneath his helmet, wet and raspy.

Too bad for the adept, this was not even close to Y'roth's first encounter with adepts. And those had been much better trained and disciplined than this one. The adepts that bided their time, even if they were planning something suicidal such as this, often waited to strike when it counted the most. This fool merely struck out at whatever was available. And Y'roth was more than a combat veteran, his body scarred over, several places twice. Pain only did so much before the adrenaline hit the system.

Nonetheless, his armored hand's scrabbled at the bottom of his helmet, the eyes suddenly going dim as it was removed. Blood and saliva clung to the inside of the face plate, Y'roth's mouth was covered in it. His features were sharp and solid, his raven black hair was slicked back but for a few loose bangs, and his eyes had that thousand meter stare that commandos were noted for having. Not only did they appear feral at the moment, but they had a glare that someone religious might depict as a demon trapped within a mortal coil. His eyes closed for a moment as he breathed in quickly and deeply through his nose, exhaling roughly through gritted teeth. The armor was still connected via his nueral implant though and as he rotated his neck to the side, Hera could visibly see the wired embedded beneath his skin.

The door opened and IMP flew in, its red eye focused on Helghast. The droid was connected to Y'roth as well through the neural implant. His implant was much more extensive than the others in Project Nightmare, being a leader for such a group meant many more sacrifices than most could understand. But it allowed for such conveniences as IMP's direct connection to him while within the Inquisitoriate's stronghold.

Sir, system diagnosis proves no physical damage, the source is a chemical imbalance within your main nervous system, Sir.

Helghast was quite aware of the source of his problem. Convincing his subconcious otherwise was another matter and even then, the true source was the adept, still feeding raw sensations of pain into Y'roth. Y'roth opened his eyes again to glare at IMP. He was not worried about either of the prisoners at the moment, they were secured from the ceiling, and the male couldn't even walk, no matter the degree of awareness he had achieved.

"...Solution?..."

Sir, a counter agent to the chemical imbalance. But your muscle system will receive redundant messages for sometime. The CMC-400 gear should compensate for all basic motor skills but you will be incapable of any small accurate movements-

"I don't need to be... accurate. The counter agent..."

Helghast's eyes erratically moved to the surgical kit on the table.

Sir, yes, Sir.

IMP hastily moved to table, two small arms unfolding from its spherical body and retrieving a capsule full of a dirty green color. Loading it into a syringe with surprising dexterity for such a droid, IMP flew to Helghast's shoulder. Without hesitation, the droid thrusted the needle into his neck. As the agent spread to his brain, Y'roth could feel how much he had been depending on will power alone. If not for that, his strength would have failed him from the beginning. The initial shock had been more than Helghast had bargained for. Why the adept had not used it on Tear was beyond the Major, but it would mean a far worse outcome now. Helghast could feel the muscle spasms too, and as IMP had stated, the neural net and his will power kept the Nightmare gear from weakening Y'roth any further. IMP withdrew the needle and then placed it back on the table, unsecuring the capsule and placing the syringe in a closed canister. The pain wasn't as bad but a shot to the knee cap had been worse than what this was now.

"Adept... Prisoner..."

Y'roth tried to continue to speak but the muscle spasms were irksome. On the other hand. eventually the male would realize that his focus, his discipline and confidence, was insubstantial. The stimulant was too strong to let the subject keep his focus for long. He would notice involuntary twitches, erratic spasms, and his train of thought would slip. No, Y'roth did not expect direct information from the adept yet; he wanted to not just break them both if possible, but leave them more than pliable for anything the Inquisitoriate had planned for them.

"Prisoner... A-83417... thank you for... volunteering to cooperate... first."

IMP unfolded another arm, dropping a blinking object into Helghast's outstretched hand, an implant. In Y'roth's debilitated state, it was surprising how suddenly it moved. The armor compensated more than enough, the reactor attached to his back hummed to life with the movement. The implant was brutally forced into the soft skin where the male's neck met the bottom of his chin. IMP hovered beneath Helghast's arms and began to connect the implant, quickly and without consideration of the prisoner's flesh.

Y'roth's eyes fluttered for a moment as another wave of pain washed over him but his blood splattered mouth almost twisted into a smile as the digital noise of the implant was emitted. A digital scream. Helghast slowly turned to the table, retrieving the claw like utensil. He held his armored hand up before him for a moment, examining it as it shook unsteadily. His eyes moved back to the male prisoner, calculating his intentions and the degree of the consequences.

Sir, if you would pref-

"Negative IMP... I am capable... Initiate the sound board... Insert the prisoner's following... output in shuffled sequences..."

Sir, yes, Sir

Y'roth stepped forward, his left hand gripping the male's face by his jaw and steadying it with ease, utilizing the strength of the armor. His other hand held the utensil and activated it as he moved it to the male's face. the claw moved like a pincer as Y'roth showed the prisoner what it was capable of. The drill in the palm of the claw twisted and turned, quite efficient for its purpose. Helghast closed his eyes for a moment, then opening them, locking eyes with Lotus, the last time the force adept would ever see out of both eyes.

The claw opened and Helghast felt that familiar sensation of time seemingly slowing down. It happened when victims died, when they screamed, when he could almost feel them writhe on the inside. When flashes of previous adept hunts came to mind, the soft rain turning to metallic slivers, the acuteness of these moments...The rush was incredible. The claw pierced the male's eye lids, tearing the fragile folds of skin, the robotic ushering of badly scripted screaming followed.

And IMP began its part. Following the scream,

We WeRe gOds, onCe...

And then a choir of moans and screams, all recordings from previous interrogations. Y'roth could even detect the melody that IMP had made somewhere among the chaos of it all. Again, Helghast, gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as another wave of pain trembled across the room. Opening them, he could feel a trickle of blood running down the side of his mouth. His body had not been affected like this by the adept, only his mind. His mind was the culprit in turn for the bleeding, reacting to pain that wasn't really there.

...Our Fist frOm heaVen fEll.
To shAkE tHe heaRts of Men aNd maId...

Opening his eyes and regaining his focus on the task at hand, Y'roth forced the claw in deeper, around the small organ as the drill pushed forward, popping the outer layer and twisting inside to better grasp the tissue. Once the claw had fully closed about the eye, Y'roth tilted his head back, breathing roughly through his nose as the pain bore down on him.

To bReaK thE Moooooors of hell-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L.

It continued to repeat like a broken record, followed with noises of tearing flesh and stifled screams. Hera's voice was distorted so much it was hard to distinguish at this point. Y'roth jerked his arm, ripping the eye out the socket.

...We WeeeeRe gOds, onCe...We WeRe gOdsssss, onCe...We WeRe gOds, onCcccce...

There was nothing artistic about the process; it was mechanical, cold, and messy. Blood splattered across the floor and Y'roth's armored forearm. Helghast had pulled the eye just far enough to keep the main nerve connected. He dropped the utensil, letting it hang against the adept's chest. Turning to the table again, he stretched and fumbled for the surgical knife, before grabbing the eye by the utensil again. Lifting it up, as if he were cutting a loose string from a uniform, he turned the blade up from the bottom and cut the main nerve.

...namEssss sCripTed iN The sta-STONE-...
...And wHo To stAnd-fall- againSt our-his-my-her- will...
...wheN we weRrrre-never were- goDsss...

Using the intricate interrogation archive available to IMP, it had added in context that negated certain words within the verses, similar to a previous interrogation that Y'roth had done.

Helghast idly tossed the organ on the ground before opening a shelf and retrieving a small package with a red triangle like symbol on it. Emergency bacta patches had other purposes off field as well. Opening the seal, the fresh smell of sterile fluids was released. Instead of immediatly applying it though, he tossed it to the side on the table, tilting his head back once again as Y'roth pushed back the black tide of pain that fought to overcome the edge of conciousness. The adept's implant transmitted as much verbal data it could, mostly resulting in more garbled screams of digital chaos. The adept's discipline was only so extensive, it was definitely slipping. Frell, such a procedure, done so "carefully," even a hardened soldier would break. Y'roth knew it for fact. And even then, it was not like Helghast was close to being finished.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai felt the burning sensation of pain slither down his body, catching every nerve on fire. Those vials had done their work well, and with as much as he could muster, he screamed. A primal scream of human emotion, not just pain, but failure. He had failed in killing his target, but he had done him substantial damage. That droid had to go, if they could destroy the droid, it might be possible to cause more damage to Y'roth.

But now, Baralai was in too much pain to react to anything. Burning, tormenting pain was all that he knew. As he felt the drill enter his eye and exit the fresh wound, not once severing the nerve, he gripped his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white. There was nothing more he wanted than to be free right now. To regain his strength and come back with Hera, to tear this entire fragging building down. He promised he would one day, one day in the future.

His eye dangled on his chest, the nerve still attached, and once again, he wanted to pass out, but the medicine kept such a thing from being possible. All he could feel was the dull pain from before, every part of him aching. There was no doubt that this would all make him a stronger person, and when he got out, if he got out, he would become stronger than they had imagined. Hera was right. . .everything she had said was right.

Just as the pain became tolerable, a hand was cupped on the eye, and a scalpel came from underneath, severing the nerve in two. Sharp pains shot to the back of his head, and he couldn't even muster enough strength to thrash his head in agony.

Baralai raised his head, the weight of it almost enough to pull his head back down. Knowing the implant gave him some speech capabilities, he looked at Hera and Y'roth, who smiled at him. With torn, frayed lips, body broken, no weapon, chained to a wall, the spirit of the Sith still lived on in him.

Mustering strength from deep within him, focusing on speaking, Baralai began to speak. A scratchy, electronic voice that echoed through the room, buzzing in their ears, barely above normal speech. He was saying what he beleived.

We were GoDszzzzz, once

A bewildered face stared back at him, it was his own, in the reflection of his own pools of blood on the floor. The crimson face was scarred and destroyed, but Baralai continued speaking. Barely managing the words he wanted to speak. No one would stop him.

We will be GoDszzz OncE more. . .

Using the last of his strength he continued speaking, to Hera, making a promise to her, a silent smirk on his face, his eye staring at her, connecting with her, letting her know everything would be fine, and also apologizing for everything he had done to her. He had not wished this upon anyone, especially one such as her.

And wE will rUlE OveR YOOOOOOOUUUUU. . .

The electronic voice drifted out into the room, resonating on the walls. The Inquisitoriate may have broken Baralai's body, but never would they break the spirit of the Sith. He was stronger than them, and given time, he would prove it. He hung his head down once more, blood rolling from his forehead. He would not give up. . .

[Hera]

Connection is an amazing thing.

A word, a look, the vaguest gesture - can all convey so much meaning. And through Baralais train-wrecked face, Hera understood him well and clear.

In the one eye left to him, Hera saw both a humbling of the boy she had initially been introduced to on their flight, as well as a strength she had not credited him before. Baralai had been outplayed, outmatched and out-bad-assed by his captors and had the honesty to recognize it. Yet he still remained defiant and true to his inner core. Finally, he had managed to impress her since their meeting. She met his gaze with understanding in her eyes and a whisper of a half-smile on her lips. Promise heard.

She twisted at the end of the constraints, looking directly now at the Inquisitor who stood before her, his face finally visible. A face to remember.

"Aren't you one ugly sonofabitch, then."


Whatever these Nightmares hoped to gain from brutalizing their captives, other than the obvious pleasure of such actions, was beyond Hera.

She, herself, knew nothing. Being off-planet in a hole in the ground will have that effect on a person. As for Lotus, maybe the guy had connections. Maybe not. The Imps sure wont learn anything thing if he up and croaks before he can make coherent speech again, regardless of that gadget now embedded in his jaw. How that even worked, Hera couldn't figure. But that was not her concern.

As Baralai hung limp, head lolling pathetically on his chest, Hera figured she was next up at bat.

She tugged her head in Baralai's direction, "You better fix him up if you want any use out of him. No matter how many chemicals you pump into him, sooner or later shock will set in and that kid's as good as gone. Maybe your boss wont like that."

[Y'roth Helghast]

Y'roth spit more blood on the ground, wiping red tinged saliva on the armor of his arm. He easily ignored the female, Y'roth was more than aware of medically sustaining an individual under such situations. Shock was a difficult medical ailment when on the field but in such an advanced environment... Y'roth withdrew another syringe, grayish red substance this time, and slid the needle into the male's leg. A diluted amount of bacta with a nutrient buffer would keep the male's system from collapsing but little else.

"Prisoner A-83418, neither of you are necessarily worth anything at the moment. Those with real value have already been processed. You two are merely examples of the scraps left behind from the taint we have almost purged. If I killed you both, I am confident there would be no consequences."

Y'roth didn't look up from his work as he spoke. The male was delusional and near a breaking point. Every force adept stood on some foundation at which their discipline was based. As strong as they believed the foundation to be though, time was the only thing that determined its fortitude and the male reeked of an amateur. Retrieving a long needle, Y'roth held it to the side as he flipped the small switch on the handle.

He breathed in deeply, his own physical strength slowly returning over a span of time. He would still be shaking from the drugs for sometime, not like it would hinder his performance. He breathed in through his nose as the smell of burnt air hit his senses. The needle had turned a bright red. A tool originally designed to assist in removing shrapnel, Y'roth had modified it slightly. It enters the flesh, cauterizing the wound, and leaving a small enough injury that a bacta submersion would leave no scars, only a distant and unwanted remembrance.

"Prisoner A-83417, who taught you to utilize your... abilities?"

One metal hand outstretched and lifted the male's face upwards so that the rolling and blood shot eye of the adept met Y'roth's a yard apart.

"No reply?"

The needle slid through the male's shoulder and slid out the other side before Y'roth withdrew it quickly. Helghast had not given him time to answer but it was a demonstration for the next time Y'roth asked and he chose not to answer.

[Baralai Lotus]

The rod entered and exited quickly, but the pain was immense. His head flew back, falling to his chest afterwards. He grimaced from the pain, wondering what they wanted from him. He couldn't tell them of The Order, of what he had learned. But perhaps, perhaps he could mention something else. Lie to them, tell them something different.

He lifted his head lightly. He wanted to pass out, to get out of this pain, but he couldn't. Nothing was happening, he couldn't keep awake for much longer. His mind frayed, his face destroyed, and every part of him aching, Baralai was weakened to an undeniable point. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

He lifted his head, looking to Hera, sorry for what he was about to do. But he couldn't die here, and if he lied to them, they would know. His body ached, and his senses were shot, but he knew everything that was going on around him. He didn't know what else to do. Tell them the truth and live, or undergo more torture for who knows how long. . .

He willed himself to speak, even through the immense pain.

The. . .Sith. . .Or. . .der

He lumped his head forward, nothing else happening. Panting, trying to breathe, trying to stay alive. He looked over at Hera, his eye blood red, his face dripping the red liquid, his hair matted down with the intense color. His body had been so beaten, so destroyed, that he was just bleeding. He was beaten, this time, he had been beaten. He had failed to do what he wanted. For once, he was the sinner. His own anger was almost too much to stand, too much to deal with, but he would bottle it, use it to kill the man before him, and Tear as well.

That connection with Hera was still there, and he knew it. He still apologized, still felt terrible, but he knew that the Sith would rise again, and destroy these people. If Baralai had to do it with his own two hands, he would. Nothing would stop him from reviving the power of the Sith, and he would do this. If God was good for nothing, he was at least good for revival, revival on a wide scale. And so, with the powers at his hands, he would return and unleash the wrath of God. . .by the power of his very soul.

[Victor Crestmere]

"Prisoner A-83417, who taught you to utilize your... abilities?"

Victor laughed to himself. Although he had mimicked Helghast’s voice before, this time, it was just for kicks. The Major always had a way with words and they never failed to make Victor smile when he copied them. Standing up and glancing at the consol quickly, making sure copy the Major’s exact stance, Victor cleared his throat. Once Victor had begun speaking it was as if completely different person had entered the room. His voice became deeper and more harsh as it went in and out of tune. He had become the Major with little effort, “Prisoner A-83417, who taught you to utilize your... Abilities?” Chuckling, Victor sat back down and continued watching the feed.

"The. . .Sith. . .Or. . .der "

Focusing on the screen as he watched patiently, Victor smiled as the male Force adept spoke. Normally Victor wouldn't be doing things this way. Normally, he'd be the one talking to the prisoner and learning their ways, their thought, their habits, ticks, the way the spoke, but this wasn't normal. Watching from the consol in his room, Victor had to make do. Fortunately, IMP, the Major’s personal droid, was willing to help in the area.

“IMP, I need you to do something for me.” Crestmere said as he caught up to the floating droid. “When Major Helghast begins interrogating the new prisoners, the Force adepts, stream your visual and audio feeds directly to the consol located in my room. Ok?” There was no reply from the droid for a moment except for the buzz of the druid’s inner workings. Finally after a few moments, IMP replied, “Sir, a direct stream from Major Helghast HUD will be directed towards your personal consol once the process begins.” Victor smiled, “Thank you IMP. As you were.” Walking off as he heard the buzz of IMP slowly begin to fade, Victor smiled again. It was time for him to go to work…

That all took place earlier that day, after PN had returned from the mission. There was nothing against procedure, it was strictly for learning purposes on both the Force adepts and Major Helghast. The Force adept because it was Victor’s job to learn their ways incase one day ,duty called for him to assume the role of one and Major Helghast because, well, it was his job as well. Learning a new voice was something Victor loved to do. It was challenging and yet poetic. To think, if that person were to die, Victor could easily take over their life. He could care for their loved ones and they’d never know the difference.

Watching and concentrating on what the male adept had said, Victor slowly opened his mouth, saying exactly what he had. “The.. Sith… Or…der.” A bit too scratchy. Victor had to keep in mind that the adept no longer had the assistance of a tongue to help him speak. Swallowing the saliva in his mouth, Victor tried again. "The. . .Sith. . .Or. . .der " A little closer that time, but still a little muffled. Slamming his fist down on the table next to him in frustration, Victor tried again. This time took a bit slower, realizing that the adept would be forcing himself to talk, forcing what was left of his tongue anyways. Taking in a deep breath, Victor spoke. "The. . .Sith. . .Or. . .der ". There it was! He did it! Smiling as he raised out of his seat a little bit in excitement, Victor brushed a few strands of his hair out of his face. Looking around, still smiling, he tried again, just to make sure that he could indeed, do it again, and that it wasn’t just a stroke of luck. Taking in a deep breath, Victor spoke, his voice distorting and changing to fit the voice of the adept once more, "The. . .Sith. . .Or. . .der " His smile only got bigger, like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Good job Crestmere…” said a males voice. “Yeah! Good job kido…” cried out another, only it was a female this time. Victor looked around the room startled, expecting to see Scothis and Lang standing in his doorway but no one was there. Turning back around with a puzzled look on his face, Victor continued watching interrogation. “Scare ya did we?” There it was again! “Scothis, you couldn’t scare me if you…” Victor found himself stopping as he turned back around and saw that no body was there. Then it hit him, hit him like a ton of bricks. Scothis and Lang were nowhere near him, it was him who was talking to himself. Cursing under his breath, Victor turned back around. It was happening again, they were starting to come out again. Calming himself down, Victor turned off his consol. He had to stop now or it would be too hard to come back, too hard to find Victor again. Reaching across his desk, Victor grabbed a small tranq gun and pressed it against his forearm. Hearing the hiss of the gun as it injected it's cool substance into his arm, Victor walked over to his bed and laid down. "The serum would take it's toll soon, and all will be back to as it was..." Victor said as his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes.

[Hera]

"The. . .Sith. . .Or. . .der "

Hera dropped her head forward as Baralai uttered the words.

She knew it was coming. Knew the cost to Baralai as he spoke. She knew he would break. How could he not? But hearing it was a blow despite it being expected. She felt so angry that it should come to this. Yet, this revelation brought hope to her - she had not known the existance of such an order. There were more like herself out there..

She had dangled from her bindings, helpless, as Y'roth smugly lectured her on her unimportance as a prisoner. Dangled as he jabbed Lotus yet again with his frelling needles, coercing information from the broken, bloodied youth.

But now, with concerted effort, Hera steadied herself between suspended arms and one planted foot, and with the other she delivered a savage high-kick right at face-level just as Helghast turned back toward his table. Connecting with a satisfying "crack" as the front boney part of her foot slammed into the bridge of Y'roths nose, braking it on impact and knocking him reeling backward at the unexpectedness of the hit.

Blood sprang from his nostrals and the IMP droid hovered around emitting alarmed beeps and squeeks.

For the first time that day, Hera felt like herself again. It felt good to finally get to hit something.

[Y'roth Helghast]

Y'roth fell back against the wall, breathing through his mouth as his own blood ran into it and down his jaw. The armor supported most of the fall but Y'roth gasped for air as he stared at the ceiling, letting the blood continue to drip. The powerpack's bulk offered a reasonable fulcrum to balance himself. IMP was at his shoulder, already reporting the severity of the injury but Y'roth listened only long enough to hear that he wouldn't have to pay attention to it right away.

Y'roth had been methodical to his business so far. He had never been remarked to have a temper, such a thing caused mission diversions and was unnecessary. But motivation. The female had given Y'roth a spark of motivation. Leaning against the wall, he could easily tell how tired he was, exhausted, pushing the limit, but with motivation, continue mission.

His arm moved with lightning speed, the neural implant registering the response time in nanoseconds. His dart gun was out of its locked holster and in his grasp and his finger pulled the trigger. A metal dart flashed across the room and its pointed end slid into Hera's left breast just short of an inch deep. His arm fell slowly, reholstering the dart gun with effort as he coughed up swallowed blood. His armor was splattered with blood.

"A volatile concoction... *cough*... of chemical engineering. Enjoy the pain because thats all it causes. Research and development... *cough*... has named it Acid Blood, formula 078. I'm sure you can discern the source of the name in the mean time...."

Y'roth stood slowly and moved over to Baralai, inspecting him with sincere interest for once. Suddenly he was a bargain chip. The force adepts had been thinned from the population to some degree and they had trained this one to one extent or another. They couldn't afford to lose too many more. A bargaining chip indeed. But that was for others to decide. Helghast grabbed the half dead man by the wrists with one hand and lifted him off the hook and let him down slowly. He dragged the body out into the hallway and then dropped the prisoner there. Spitting blood on the man's bare chest before turning around and closing the door.

* * *

Within moments, the man could hear footsteps until several men wrapped metal encased hands about his limbs and carried him through the maze of the Inquisitoriate.

A door opened and the man was brought into a room colder than an industrial freezer. The room was white with frost and the prisoner could only hear small pieces of what the men said. They all wore black which made the whole scene hard to determine as it was very dark and little else gave off light but for consoles that were scattered about the room. Suddenly a loud clank was heard and the sound of a vacuum.

A hand reached down, ripping out the voice implant roughly before a mask was fitted over the prisoner's face. Hoisted up once again, the prisoner was lifted by hooks now and then slowly being let down.

It was freezing, the liquid, and it stung like fire but it was had an instant numbing effect as well. The man now could feel wires and tubes attached to him but only for a moment before the freezing liquid was up to his neck. Often, individuals would feel a sense of panic as if they were going to drown but once they were completely submerged, the mask began to function and provided them with the air they desired. The liquid numbed the man's senses and he was left in what felt like empty space. And then the drowsiness, followed by the nightmares.

* * *

Y'roth entered the room again and observed the woman to see how the Acid Blood was affecting her.

[Baralai Lotus]

Baralai felt his weight suspend itself from the hooks, and then a jerk that tugged him off of the hooks. He was being dragged before being placed on more hooks. He winced with pain as his body was lifted into the air and lowered into the tank of freezing liquid, bacta.

He felt the liquid flush his wounds instantly sealing them. His body was being healed, and then several wires were inserted into him, most likely to monitor vital signs. Regardless, there was still pain to be felt, a numbing pain of ice cold water. Almost burning, but he could survive it. He had survived having his tongue and eye ripped out on this day, so surely this was no problem at all.

The water filled his wounds, the fresh oxygen pumped into his lungs, and for the first time in what felt like years, his eyes slowly closed, allowing him to comfortably sleep.