I've met the Devil and He made me a House Guest (open)

[Hera]

The devil appears in many forms.

To some, he is a frothing fearsome beast who shreds and devours his prey. To others, he comes as an angel of light - the very embodiment of their dreams and desires who enchants and lures them to utopia, then to their ultimate destruction.

Then again, he can reveal himself as one of many. And it was as this latter that Hera knew him.

The Imperials.

Or more specifically, the Inquisitoriate. The devil in flesh, Hera thought sourly. And she was now living with the fracker.

Hera stepped from the refresher and dressed. She wore the same as she did most every day - black pants and a crisp white button down shirt with the cuffs neatly rolled up her forearms. It was her own sort of uniform she mused unhappily. Sitting down on the bed, she pulled on her boots, her own reflection gleaming back at her in their dull sheen. Damn, she was even looking like a frelling Imperial these days.

The fact she was alive to gripe about her circumstances was largely due to the man who had risen much earlier from the bedroom next to hers. Tear - what a jerk. He tried to make out they had a working relationship, when in truth she was his prisoner and absolutely no question about it.

Her capture, almost a year ago upon her retun to Imperial Center, by Project Nightmare (another fancy name for satan) Hera had been held here to instruct Tear in the ways of the darkside (her own present incapability in tapping into the force, notwithstanding). This, in exchange for her life. It had not seemed a bad bargain at the time and so far had been going swimingly. It was only on odd mornings that Hera's resentment at her predicament flooded over into a bitterness of spirit that she was hard pressed to contain.

Stepping from her room into Tear's spacious personal suites where he housed her to keep close tabs on her, Hera learned that her protector had left and would be gone for some time. She was to continue as if he was here and, the guard informed her, try not to give Tear's peers a reason to get rid of her while he was away. Hera could see Tear's infuriating grin as his underling repeated the instructions, even though the guard said it with good mannered blankness. Tear was under no illusion that he held the upper hand in their arrangement and that it goaded the Sith to distraction.

"Fine" Hera stated flatly, "I will eat in the mess hall today. Im sick of the view up here"

The guard nodded that would be allowed, and led her from the rooms, a second soldier falling into step with them as was the usual protocol.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The Inquisitoriate was stationed in a building that was designed from the ground up to instill fear in the masses that milled by it day after day. An obsidian tower that stretched into the sky and pierced Coruscant's layers and layers of skins. Even in the dark of the lower subsectors, anything sentient knew to stay well enough away from the doors marked in the blood red crest of the Inquisitoriate. Very, very few outside of the Inquisitoriate's ranks knew what lies beyond the black doors and most prefer not to know. The Empire likes to boast that It's most loyal reside within the structure. Members of the Inquisitoriate like to boast that they only share company with the depraved, void of any loyalties to the Empire. But they don't talk very much, most of their screams haunt the impenetrable darkness below Coruscant's surface.

* * *

Tear's chambers were at the top of the structure, his private quarters and living apartments for his guests and... 'guests' taking up the floor beneath that. Beneath that were the Inquisitorial Archives. They took up some room before the next floors became 'nonexistent.' The layouts were not present in any records and any manifest of cargo ever delivered there remained empty. The Cradle of the Empire's Nightmare. This area remained a mystery even to those who had the clearance to know what hid behind the veil. Only Tear, Inquisitor Valten, the Inquisitoriate Mainframe, and the squad of Project Nightmare were allowed beyond the black cloak that remained over the Cradle. The Executive levels, plotting out the more traditional architecture from there continued down to where a turbolift was opening and the female 'guest' and her chaperone were stepping off.

A black sphere hovered into the hallway, it's red receptor dilating at the sight of the two walking down the hallway. It zipped a small circle in the middle of a 4 way and made its way towards the approaching couple. A voice slick as oil came from somewhere inside the orb, and it was hard to tell, but it seemed to also resonate along the hallway.

:: Return to your post, I will escort her from here. ::

The guard was not about to argue. This small orb was IMP, the avatar of the Inquisitoriate Mainframe which was the AI maintaining the Inquisitoriate Headquarters. It was also considered a member of Project Nightmare, Major Helghast's personal assistant. Ironically, both personalities found more similarities between each other than programming or soul might allow. The guard turned and made his way back to the awaiting lift and disappeared behind the closing doors.
The small droid hovered to the side of Hera and looked about, as if imitating a natural person who just arrived to the scene. It's red iris focused on Hera as it spoke again.

:: Follow me, Mistress. I will lead you to your desired location. ::

The droid hovered in one direction and then glanced back to make sure she was following.

[Hera]

Hera followed the orb feeling much like a dog on an invisible leash. The droid pivoted now and again as if to check she was still there, though Hera knew this was unnecessary - its sensors would most likely know her proximity down to the exact millimeter.

It was visceral, the gut reaction Hera still got from that small innocuous orb. She had finally managed to not break into a sweat whenever it appeared, but the lurch it caused in the pit of her stomach still came on in a nauseating wave. She had met the IMP before, and seeing it now brought back, as it always did, the vividness of her initial capture by the Inquisitoriate. She had been brutally interrogated, along with that poor fool Baralai Lotus who's torn-out tongue Hera still had in a box in her drawer. It had taken months for her to recover and it was only that Tear had deemed it so, that she had lived through it at all.

Hera had never found out what finally happened to Lotus. Was he still alive? Was he imprisoned here some place? Hera's gaze dropped automatically downwards as she considered that possiblity. She had heard the guards whispering about the lower levels. She could ask around she supposed, but most likely the young Sith had died where she'd last seen him - suspended bloodied and beaten on the interrogation wall.

Continuing silently on, the orb led and Hera followed. She found, however, that with such thoughts of the past filing her head that her appetite had abated considerably.

[Y'roth Helghast]

Doors opened with ease as IMP approached the Executive Cafeteria. It continued in, showing Hera to a place that couldn't be any kind of simple cafeteria. This was equivalent to a high scale resteraunt, droids in chrome black and silver standing by to serve whoever might enter. IMP ignored the droids which did the same in turn, not responding to either IMP or Hera as they entered. IMP continued to lead Hera through the gallery of empty tables, no one else was present in the area, or at least had made their presence known yet. IMP stopped outside another door, waiting for Hera to follow.

:: Take a seat, Mistress. A droid will take your order in prompt timing. ::

The door opened and revealed a semi-circular room, overlooking the black space of Coruscant, a sea of small moving lights moving across the darkened horizon. The table set in the room had seats for nine, all plates and silverware ready for the guests, a droid standing by silently in the corner.

[Hera]

Hera looked passed the orb and into the inner room. The black Coruscant space stretched out in all its vastness making her feel even more isolated than before. The table, so obviously set for anticipated guests, further accentuated the fact that she was very much the outsider.

She turned but neglected to take seat as instructed. Sighting only the various server droids waiting in their places, Hera took the room to be bereft of any human presence. She sniped to the IMP that still hovered in the doorway behind her.

"If Id wanted to breakfast with gadgets, I'd have stayed in my room and flicked the stereo on, sharing an omlette with my chrono"

She twisted back to face the orb.

"Take me back to Tear's suites."

[Y'roth Helghast]

IMP's receptor dilated for a moment as it appeared hesitant, unused to demands given from a 'guest' that countermanded its own. Being the intelligent entity that it was though, IMP really knew it was not required to do anything further by itself. The entrance to the lounge opened from the other side of the room and three tall men in Imperial uniforms stepped in. The man in the middle stopped as he entered, his eyes devouring his surroundings and taking note of every detail. Hera couldn't have known that IMP was reiterating the last few moments for his convenience..

Their uniforms were devoid of anything but Imperial insignia and the badge on their arms that noted them of the Inquisitoriate. No name, rank, or even military achievements were visibly available. But the face of the man standing in the middle would be unmistakable to Hera. She had seen it only that one time before, blood flowing freely down his face while he... interrogated her and the other 'Sith' force adept.

Major Y'roth Helghast did not fit into the gentleman's uniform of an Imperial officer. His build had been engineered towards battlesuits and armor since a child but his discomfort wasn't apparent. His hair went back, only a few loose strands falling over his face, which was devoid of anything beyond stoicism. To his sides were Captain Victor Crestmere, Y'roth's second, and Lt. Ylor Jerrard, Helghast's most experienced man beyond himself. Crestmere appeared almost too comfortable in the uniform, the smile in his face too genuine. He was everything regal, his hair tied back with his arms crossed over his chest. Jerrard looked bored if nothing else, a special ops veteran, attending a quaint breakfast. Helghast could relate but Tear had said they needed to... reacquaint themselves at some point. Between everything that the squad was required to do, this had appeared as the most available timing. They began to make their way towards Hera and IMP, Crestmere calling out across the room as they neared.

"By all means, have a seat. We'd be glad to join you. We had been told you would be expecting us."

[Hera]

Watching as the three aproached her, Hera began to visibly blanch and her hands, curling into clenched fists, began to tremble.

Nothing could have prepared her for the shock of seeing Y'roth Helghast face to face. She knew the face well. It appeared to her often in the restless tormented hours she labelled loosely as sleep. The sharp features of the Inquisitoriate interogator had left her drenched in sweat many a night. She had never realised the man who came to terrorize her repeatedly, and with clockwork regularity, was not a conjuring of her nightmares, but rather, was a memory of a real person. A memory of real deeds.

Crestmere had spoken as they drew closer and Hera pulled her eyes momentarily from Helghast to rest on him.

"What?"

The word came out as a croak and Victor sensed the question was not in reference to what he had just said. It was, instead, the Sith's mind wrestling with the reality her eyes presented. This was confirmed as the twin ice-blue pools flicked back to Helghast. Ylor didn't even seem to register in Hera's awareness.

She compressed her lips as if struggling with self-control. It was a struggle she obviously lost as with a snatch of a silver knife from the third place-setting on the left, and a scream thrown up from hell itself, Hera launched herself af the center Inquisitor with every intention of burying said utensil into the base of Helghasts throat.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Jerrard barely moved, his attention was actually more to the view outside the Inquisitoriate, Crestmere mocked surprise and shock, as if too scared to do anything in what seemed to take forever for Hera to make it to Helghast, and possibly the slightest of a smirk appeared in the dead orbs of Helghast's eyes as he reacted. All of the soldiers in Project Nightmare wore armor heavier than their own body weights. Yes, they were augmented, but all of their bodies were conditioned beyond most realistic limitations of other soldiers. In their eyes, Hera moved like syrup, exposing herself in a flurry of rage. IMP could've predicted Hera's response, but the AI had been hoping she wouldn't have proven to be so... human.

Y'roth's left hand came up, his gloved fingers wrapping around Hera's wrist with a gentleness that betrayed everything he was. The knife edge stopped well away from Y'roth's neck but he didn't give Hera anytime to respond, jerking her hand down and to the side in an awkward angle. The pressure would sting immensely, rendering her hand limp and devoid of her toy and her altogether more or less immobile unless she wanted to resist and break her arm. Helghast had barely moved, only moving his left arm the entire time.

His voice was quiet and calm as he spoke, no sarcastic edge to it like Crestmere's. The difference lay beneath Helghast's voice; it was like a subtle poison as he stared down into her eyes.

"Control yourself, Witch. I can break you apart before I have breakfast and have you in a bacta tank and back out again before lunch for another meal and we can try this again."

[Hera]

"You smug sonofabitch" Hera cursed through clenched teeth, her body rigid with fury. "There's gonna come a day I make you regret ever laying a hand on me"

She slid her eyes to Crestmere who was enragingly flippant with his dandy-type posing. "You too, beautiful"

Her heart burned to shred these men's torsos with a blade and watch them writhe at her feet in agony, guts spilling onto her shiny black boots. One day. One day she would do it. She made it a promise to herself.

She had not yet relaxed in Y'roths grasp, her anger was too raw - her lust to inflict pain a palpable scent on the air. "I will not always be this pathetic, Inquisitor" And she was pathetic. Compared to what she used to be she was a joke of her former self. The fact that she knew it and admitted it did not detract from the steel of who she really was. "Remember that I warned you of it, when the time comes."

The silver knife barely made a scuffle sound as it landed on the floor.

[Y'roth Helghast]

"When the time comes then."

Helghast's eyes were locked with hers, his detached gaze to her desperate eyes, filled with rage. Y'roth accepted his fate as a soldier. Some adversary, some round from a rifle, some vibroblade, some adept had his name to cross off on their murder list. It was only a matter of time. Until then, Y'roth still had much to accomplish for the Empire. But for this woman, the Major almost felt compelled to step out of his role and make recreation out of the pain she was practically begging for, almost.
In a few graceful steps and what was but which Hera couldn't tell a simple manipulation of her arm, she was sitting in a chair. Crestmere and Jerrard were already sitting down and Y'roth was moving towards a chair for himself. Taking a seat, the serving droid finally kicked into motion and rolled into the back to retrieve the meal.
Crestmere smiled pleasantly, finishing a whispered conversation with Jerrard before directing his attention to Hera.

"I don't mean to dispute details, but you are the one who attempted the action. He was merely acting in self defense. And why not look to the future? We're here to merge that gap you've made between you and us. We just want to be your friends. Comrades."

Anything and everything about Crestmere could be genuine when he wanted it to be. At this moment, even the air around him seemed fake.

[Hera]

Having been deposited in her chair like some misbehaving child, Hera accepted Crestmere's observation with poor grace. She sneered down her nose at him as if he were some detestable insect.

"Comrades?" Her tone echoed Victor's for insincerity. Then skipping a glance to each of the three men with her at table, she added in her own treacled tone,"...I can do that." She was unable, however, to match his transparent smile.

What a nest of vipers she was in. Hera loved a good challenge, but these guys were something else. They were not motivated as most her past enemies had been. She was used to hate and ambition on a personal level. These Inquisitoriates seemed to have no such base emotions. They were but cogs that drove the great Empire machine, and appeared content to be such. Take Helghast here, he probably had no real sensitivies that were not programmed or permitted by his superiors. He seemed cold and untouchable and was the closest thing to a droid in human flesh Hera had come across. She considered the IMP, which hovered silently on their peripheral and compared it to Y'roth seated beside her. Yep..peas in a pod. Neither of them seemed to take any pleasure or satisfaction in the situation. They were just doing what they had been created for. Crestmere, atleast, had some flamboyance to him. He, somwhere, had some buttons she could perhaps eventually push. Jerrard so far was an unknown quantity completely. Hera relagated him simply to "weapon" status, for that so far was all she'd glimpsed into his personality. He looked like a capable, experienced individual. Probably another cookie-cut PN soldier - molded and honed to lethal efficiancy - like all the rest.

"So...." She attempted civility, reminding herself to heed Tear's earlier warning and not to give them a reason to permanently get rid of her.


"That all you wanted to say - lets be friends? Fine, we're friends. Dont let me keep you."

She had a bit of work to do yet on her civil skills.

[Y'roth Helghast]

The serving droid appeared, ushering in a table filled with food. The better part of the table was detachable and circular in shape. The droid grasped the circular piece and set it in the middle of the table, which now served as a rotating buffet. It had a wide variety of breakfast foods that catered to nearly any well bred Imperial taste of luxury.

Helghast's plate was already prepared for him though, and it was placed before him. At once, he began to mechanically disecting his food and eating. His gaze seemed to space out, as if he had something important to consider. IMP detracted from whatever Y'roth was contemplating to display a holographic tablet, filled with information that was only readable from his vantage. Hera might as well have not existed to him.

Crestmere hummed some mindless tune from a culture that was now extinct as he ate. Nevermind that the culture's extinction had been brought about by Project Nightmare single handedly. A culture shouldn't flaunt jedi influence in the face of the Empire. Victor was beyond that event though, Hera was the topic to be mindful of now. Crestmere was a mimic through and through and his interest in her personality was nothing but business, regardless of his feigned friendship.

Jerrard wasted no time picking and choosing his preference, the spicier the better. His plate was full in moments. As he swallowed a piece of his meal, he turned an eye to Hera.

"How are you recuperating? Your vitals show your physical state was not altered but for a case of shock in your interrogation and a few other minor details. Your psychological review has not yet been concluded. You should have been over the side effects by now."

Jerrard had been in a special forces unit. He was generally more social with his friends. Helghast was barely human, nothing but military discipline to that persona. And one was never really sure who they were talking to when Crestmere responded. He could relate much better to Naomi or Scothis. But they obviously hadn't been invited to this little get together. Leaving him with Hera, who at least had enough spunk to fight a demon like Helghast.

[Hera]

"How am I?" Hera jabbed her fork into a particularly tender peice of steak and hoisted it over to her plate. She thought she had lost her apetite, but the aromas of the breakfast so splendidly layed out before her put lie to that perception. "Oh, Im just peachy" she snided to Jerrard.

"Just look at me" she twisted round in her seat to give Y'lor the full benefit of her front body view, "You'd never know your buddy over there shot me full of some acid blood solution that set my whole system on fire like a napalm sack. You'd never know I'd been writhing like a demented eel for days - or was it weeks Y'roth? (Helghast gave no answer, his attention on the IMP and the task of eating having having priority). "No matter. Like I said," she sat round again, cutting a chunk of meat off and forking it indelicately into her mouth, "Im juuust peachy"

She spooned over some scrambled eggs and splashed a generous amount of bbq sauce onto them.

"Im a tad bored though" she added, this time slightly more conversationally. " Tear is away more often than not. Not much to do around here for someone like me."

[Y'roth Helghast]

"At least your sense of humor is still intact."

Crestmere could not have interjected with any more enthusiasm. As he made an exaggerated pose of resting his chin on his elbow, he looked at Hera as if he were an entirely different person. His voice was charming and masculine in the soap opera stud way of things as he spoke next.

"I'm sure there are plenty of things we can find for you to do... Not much to do around here for someone like me either."

The last sentence not only mimicked hers word for word, but it even sounded like her. Jerrard waved Crestmere off, not that he was getting tired but that Ylor assumed his next question might be higher in priority than the ice breakers.

"Is your sense of time-"

"Why haven't you used the force?"

Y'roth's question even caught Jerrard a bit offguard. Helghast had seemed to be in a room by himself until that moment and the question clearly cut through whatever Jerrard had intended on asking. IMP closed the holographic tablet with the shift of Y'roth's attention.

[Hera]

Where the frell had that come from?

Hera looked at Y'roth with obvious doubt.

Did Helghast really not know? Had Tear not told them anything?

Did they really imagine for one instant she would be sitting here meekly had she an ounce of her force-ability in hand? She seriously doubted they did not know. Or at the least suspect. If Hera knew anything, she knew these boys - despite what she'd prefer to believe - they were not stupid.

The brief cordiallity that Jerrard had been attempting to establish, despite Crestmeres efforts to sabbotage with his mimicking antics, proved wasted as Hera's animosity returned.

"What are you playing at Helghast? Is this another mind game of yours - Dont you need your drugs for this?"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Y'roth looked to Jerrard and then back to his food, placing another piece in his mouth. As he ate, Jerrard picked up where Y'roth had left off.

"The Grand Inquisitor has only informed us that you are a force adept. Otherwise we have no sign that you are and from what we understand, you have yet to use any of your force powers unless you used them in conjuction with the other adept during your interrogation. We are confident though that you had no part in that."

Y'roth had made that distinction personally. When his mind had been assaulted by the force during that session, he had the willpower to resist the attack after being initially shocked by it. The conflict had left a sensation that tasted only of the male adept and not even an inkling to Hera. Project Nightmare had faced enough adepts that they had dissected a good amount of techniques from both sides of the force. Fortunately, no PN members had been victim to the more debilitating attacks. The Inquisitoriate soldiers who had though and survived were under observation in the Imperial mental wards.

Y'roth swallowed and spoke as soon as Jerrard had finished. He was being as civil as was required. If she wanted to make this an interrogation, he had no qualms. This much was apparent in his dead gaze.

"Explain."

Crestmere ventured to add in his two cents, feigning exaggerated interest.

"Yes, please do!"

[Hera]

Well, wasn't this interesting.

The Inquisitors did not have all the answers. Not that Hera thought for an instant that it caused any real perturbance amongst them, it was a heartening thought that even though they had reduced her to such abject patheticness, they still had no real idea what they had among them.

Some how, this pleased Hera to a ridiculous level, overpowering even the urge to slap Crestmere right in the kisser.

"Id be happy to explain if I had any real idea myself"

She spoke with the first real sincerity they had witnessed yet. "I did not help Baralai during the interrogation, you are correct." She turned to speak specifically to Y'roth, "It is very fortunate for you that I did not."

She returned her reply to Jerrard again, seeing him as the least agrivating of the company. "I am unable to access my force ability. Like I tried to tell you fools during my arrest - I am not a threat as a force-user."

[Y'roth Helghast]

"You made no such-"

Y'roth raised his hand barely from the surface of the table and IMP silenced mid sentence. Crestmere took lead instead, using a tone that resembled something of a mocked IMP.

"You employed a satchel of thermal detonators instead. Not to mention, your friend didn't help you or himself at all in that situation. Coming up with hindsight observations isn't going to help either."

Y'roth's gaze remained on Hera as he continued to eat. She was very fortunate that Y'roth was exactly what he was. He disagreed with her notion of his fortune entirely. Just as he accepted his fate as a soldier, everyone was only given so much ammunition in life. He commended her in fighting with everything she had but he had never been in such a powerless position. Whenever that did occur, he might as well be dead, he could recognize as much. Someone like Hera might have a round jammed in the chamber but that still meant she was without her main firearm for the time being. Eight seconds was all the human body needed to lose enough blood from a severed neck that it couldn't recover from such a wound.

While Jerrard recognized Crestmere's valid point, he saw he might be able to get somewhere with Hera and pushed onward with the conversation.

"What do you think might've caused this? Any speculations?"

[Hera]

She flicked her eyes from one Imperial to the other about the table, keenly following each in turn as they reacted to what she'd said, and finally allowing her focus to settle on her plate.

She carved another chunk off her steak and shrugged carelessly.

"Who knows?"

She chewed noisily - the meat was really quite tasty.

[Y'roth Helghast]

"Where were you before? You used to be able to access your powers but then what? Something had to have caused it? We've seen adepts severed from the force by other adepts, did this occur to you?"

But those adepts, the ones severed from their force were left in a severe state of depression, practically losing the will to go on living. Hera had more life in her than most others that claimed to 'live the life'. Jerrard was honestly intrigued by her current disposition. It reeked of medical uniqueness and the luck of them stumbling upon something that could possibly severe adepts from the force. His meal was now ignored. Crestmere seemed just as interested but his hands moved with an apparent mission as they cut his food and placed it in his mouth.

[Hera]

Hera didn't like the feel of this. Though she herself had a pretty good idea as to why she was so debilitated, she had no idea how to fix it. The gods knew she'd been trying.

After her self-imposed exile on Myrkyr hiding from the very Empire that was now serving her breakfast - an irony she may one day she find amusement in -- she had emerged changed from the caves of Anterros. Enfeebled with regards to the force, unable to tap into - or even sense - the darkside energy that had for her whole life surged throughout her entire being.

The key was in the planet itself. Some mineral toxin seeping in through her skin perhaps? Something in the water? But most likely, and the reason that made most sense to Hera, was the prolific presence of the sloth-like creatures the yslarimi that were native to the planet. It was their very force inhibiting natures that made the planet such a perfect sanctuary from force-hunters. It was a blanketed environment. Her salvation. What a frelling joke on her.

But like she told Jerrard a moment before - who knows?

The Inquisitoriate were not asking these questions from the goodness of their hearts - that cold dead rock in their chests that kept their blood flowing.- And Hera well knew it.

She would be an idiot to tell them anything that might open their understanding of her. It would only be used against her in the end.

But the possibility they could some how help her, or reverse the effects of that hateful planet was, she would admit to no-one, very tempting.

Jerrard repeated the question "Did this happen to you?"

"No. No one could do this to me"

It was not a boast, it was the truth. One did not reach the rank of Sith Master such as she had and fall victim to such a travesty. Any Sith powerful enough to even do such a thing to her would have killed Hera outright and been rid of her for good. It was what she would have done.

"Im afraid I cant help you. I dont have the answers you want."

[Y'roth Helghast]

"What confidence. 'No one could do this to me."

Crestmere even had her facial expressions down by now to match her tone and accent. The Inquisitoriate had found the perfect con artist and trained him to be more than perfect. Given enough time, Crestmere could assume any personality that he came in contact with. Which was another reason why he was so deadly. His intuitive ability to think like others thought just from their mannerisms made him quite the asset to any Intelligence agency. Those skills applied to a covert agent in a special forces squad meant an even greater threat for the adversaries of Project Nightmare.

Jerrard sighed, determining that maybe in time they might make more progress in this area. She did have the answers they wanted most likely, she was living proof of it. At least she was even smart enough to talk to them. If she had been resistant of such a civil occasion, the Major wouldn't have wasted anytime turning the dining room into another session.

Helghast set his eating utensils down as he had finished his plate and drank both glasses of water set before him. The serving droid was refilling the other glass as Hera and Jerrard spoke. While Crestmere was doing his own personal study of Hera, Y'roth was making his own evaluation. Victor wouldn't have pointed out her confidence if there wasn't any validation to it from his conclusions. All adepts held a certain amount of confidence in themselves though. A flaw he had determined, too many adepts thinking themselves superior to their 'lesser' brethren. Only to be felled by skills, science, disciplines and belief seperate from anything around their 'sacred' force.

After that last session with Hera and the other adept, he'd seen that confidence blazing in both aspects. The male adept had held that false confidence and lost it fast. Y'roth derived no amusement out of accomplishing exactly what he had done to so many others before. Hera on the other hand. He'd seen what he had thought as the kind of confidence before, but when he had interrogated her, it was as if he had stumbled across a personality treasure trove for an adept. His ability to gauge a subject's will had proven useless as her willpower for a time had seemed endless. Y'roth had seen only two jedi masters succumb to Inquisitoriate torture and last longer than she had. He could easily make the assumption from there with confidence.

Jerrard cleared his throat after finishing off his plate and then began to refill it, speaking once more.

"On another note, we need not go over what your limitations are, but in those limitations, what would you like to do? Grand Inquisitor Tear is away on other business for the time being and one of us four are to be your hosts at any given time. IMP, of course, being the most readily available."

The small orb looked from Jerrard to Hera, its red receptor dilating and refocusing as if this was news to it. Of course it wasn't, but IMP did as good a job as any other supercomputer could at mimicking organic gestures.

[Hera]

A faintly lifted eyebrow was all the response Crestmere drew from Hera with his comment. He could believe whatever he chose about her. It made little difference one way or the other in Hera's mind, and her composed look said as much.

Jerrard's offer, however, stimulated quite an interest. She was certain playing gatekeeper to her was not something relished by anyone in the room - the round droid included - but fate, and their superior commander, did not cater to wants or likes. Y'roth remained silent and Hera took it as confimation that Y'lor was quite serious.

Hera pushed her plate slightly away from her, done with eating.

"I'd like to come on your next raid - operation or whatever. I am pretty good with a blaster if you cared to give me one. But if not, I would be content to simply observe."

She even smiled at Victor. "I promise to behave myself at all times"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Jerrard gave half a smile. He had thought she might've asked for something to keep her busy, datafiles or something. Something easy that would keep her busy and out of the way. After that last little spat with the Sir, giving such a volatile target even a low grade weapon was not in any of their interests. It made Hera a possible threat in their eyes and only gave them an excuse to neutralize her and move on in life. Jerrard was sure the Sir wouldn't have a problem either way.

"We'll see what-"

"She'll accompany us to Chandrila during the Advanced Phase and observe from the FOP."

"Yes, Sir."

Even though Jerrard had been interrupted, his response came like programming to Helghast's orders. They had recieved word of the Chandrila issue a day ago and only begun to prepare for the Initial Phase. Crestmere took Jerrard's contemplative silence as a cue to begin speaking again.

"So, just keep yourself busy until then because it might be a little while until the Initial Phase is complete. And try not to make anymore complaints."

Victor's tone of voice changed suddenly, It was one of the voices that so many had heard and comprehended their mortality in the same instance.

"Sir, how soon until departure?"

"IMP... elaborate."

"The signed manifests and deployment vessels will be prepared by 1900. Project Nightmare's gear and our operational facilities will be waiting for us when we arrive. Estimated time of departure is 2300, Captain."

The orb drifted at Helghast's shoulder, turning its attention towards Y'roth who's attention went to the holographic tablet that appeared once more.

"Sir, to make a brief update of the situation. The local authorities have already sent the Inquisitoriate the proper confirmations. The militia is ready to service the inbound Inquisitoriate forces. The area designated as the Project Nightmare Foward Operating Base has already been classified. Project Nightmare's designated paths of travel have already been quarantined to Inquisitoriate personnel only, Sir."

[Hera]

Hera had been sitting forward, her posture attentive and, what may have appeared weird to what her hosts knew of her so far, was pleasantly engaged.

She was quite surprised that her request had not been ridiculed and dismissed out of hand, though she had a sneaking suspicion Crestmere may have done just that, had Helghast not usurped the moment. He had surprised them all with his decided response. The fact they were willing for her to accompany them gave the fallen Sith the first faint stirings of pleasure they had witnessed yet.

It created a slightly ambiguous harmony between them. The alteration was most definitely in Hera's disposition and was cause for a suspicious glance or two between Jerrard and Victor. Helghast continued with his monitor as if oblivious to the subtle shift in dynamic.

"I will be ready whenever you say" she offered, genuinely eager for the enterprise.

[Y'roth Helghast]

With that, Helghast finished his water and stood from the table. The image before him dissolved and he departed. The other two stood in response and the Major turned and left the room, IMP followed behind him and his foot steps rang across the empty lounge untl he disappeared outside. IMP came floating back in reluctantly, as if it had seemed eager to leave.

The other two men took their seats again, obviously not done with their breakfast, or with Hera, whichever they thought about more. Jerrard was the first to start again in hopes of a conversation which followed in suit with their most recent topic.

"You'll probably be transported to our position in a few weeks, IMP will be here in the meantime. As a guest of the Inquisitoriate, you theoretically don't exist. In fact, at the moment, none of us do. Under these pretenses, do not become a liability. That little thing..."

Pointing to IMP.

"... is not to be trifled with. Where you are, its control is limitless and it has the authority of the Major behind it. Otherwise, do you have any questions?"

[Hera]

Helghast's departure should have brought a palpable ease of tension to Hera, he being afterall, what she perceived to be the catalyst of her situatioin. But his force of personality was such that even while absent, he was very much a presence there, in her mind, in her own psyche.

Still, Hera did now feel somewhat freer to speak.

Jerrard did not have to warn her, or reiterate her very tenuous position. She was not an idiot. Still, she knew these military types liked to be clear on things.

"You dont have to worry, Ill not give the little electronic bauble any grief. This may come as a surprise to you, but I do have some wits about me."

She ignored Crestmere's snicker.

If her company was to be IMP for the next few weeks, a little human conversation other than one-way interrogatory themes that Y'roth was so fond of, would be welcome.

So Hera went fishing.

"You all seem to have a fair amount of knowlege on me --how about you, then? Have you been a part of Helghast's outfit long?"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Crestmere scoffed at her comment. They virtually knew nothing about her, he could see that much. So much was locked away behind her pretty little eyes. The Sir knew it too but Helghast would never say it, he'd just wait until she lay her soul bare for him, or he'd obliterate it in trying to make her. But he supposed Hera might see this as a courteous give and take arrangement. Of course, he'd let Jerrard take lead. Not just because he felt a pang of procrastination, but because Jerrard was at the least allowed to divulge basic information about himself. Playing by the rules wasn't necessarily Victor's forte but the conditioning he had undergone to be one of the Empire's finest covert agents led to an induced headache if he even thought about sharing his lifestory with the world. And even then, Victor Crestmere, who was he? How many souls made the man in the flesh by now?

Make it up, she, or he for that matter, would never know the difference about us.

What about the droid? IT knows all.

We've talked with IT haven't we? IT knows us.

"I've been with the Major since Project Nightmare was initiated. Before that, well that's history."

Jerrard saw no way she could make advantage of a little background history so he followed up with his answer freely.

"Project Nightmare has been in development for some time now, I was still in Tear's Strike unit when it was formulated by Inquisitor Valten. When Tear was appointed to Grand Inquisitor, myself and two others were transfered to the Inquisitoriate, and then Project Nightmare."

[Hera]

"Nightmare - the name's appropriate" she observed dryly. She'd bet credits that had been Helghast's idea.

"I gather its a tight unit, members specifically selected for their natural aptitudes" She looked at Crestmere as she said this.

Victor's gift was really remarkable - his mimicking of her earlier had not failed to leave an impression. Though she did not wish to give him too much credit, he had echoed her own voice with eerie accuracy. She wondered if she had been a quick study, or if he was really simply that good.

Crestmere, however, was reluctant, or preferred not to divulge too much about himself. Jerrard was more forthcoming conversationally, but was still not up for giving anything of too personal a nature. She ws not surprised, but had hoped for more. Any insight into these men on any level could only be a benefit to her.

"And before the military...? Or have you always been soldiers?"

[Y'roth Helghast]

"The majority of us have been soldiers in one form or another since the beginning of our careers. Any kind of life the others might have had before now has been erased by the Inquisitoriate."

Jerrard knew how it worked. It was the same way in the Special Forces. No family ever came to the honor guard or funerals, because no family existed. Crestmere let Jerrard digest his own thoughts as the veteran seemed suddenly contemplative and the conversation had hit a break.

"Yes, Nightmare is a very fitting term. And each member does indeed add their own attribute to the squad, yet no task is impossible in the face of improvisation."

Crestmere had no idea how many times plans had been botched, the original plan of action nullified due to one missing factor, and how quickly Project Nightmare had been forced to improvise. But it wasn't as if that was their fault. Life, even like this, repeated its behavior too often.

"For instance, while the Sir is the interrogator, capable of disecting and extracting information from someone like it was surgery, I or any other squad member could perform a 2nd degree level of interrogation. Or if Lang wasn't present with her expertise in demolitions, anyone of us are still highly trained in that area. We will just never be as good or as informed of such a skill as that person."

[Hera]

Lang, that was a new name. Female, explosives expert. Hera stowed the information away in her memory.

"It is a very efficient enterprise. Each of your members bringing their own unique skills, but who aren't limited to that one specialty area. And no family ties, or bindings of personal life to hold anyone back. This Valten is a man of vision I can see"

Hera approved of the whole concept by and large, and knew that the project had proved itself successful. Not only by the proof of her own eyes, but the time spent with Tear had revealed as much - he was not a man to be modest in the Empire's accomplishments. Hera had discovered Tear to be an exacting personality, pushing for more from himself and expecting the same from his subordinates.

However no machine was perfect, contrary no doubt, to what IMP would have one believe.

"While I, personally, find family highly overrated, most beings find a sort of grounding and solace from the stresses of duty and battle that come from home and family. There can be drawbacks for those under such pressure to be isolated in such a way.

You dont find that?"

She directed this last to Jerrard especially, picking up something of reserve in the way he had explained how the unit worked.

[Y'roth Helghast]

"Families... are not for everyone. Some might consider it a sacrifice. But that would mean it is something desirable. Our line of work has a lot of unwritten clauses in the contracts. And for us, the elite, there is nothing we don't agree with."

Jerrard had his fingers interwoven, his hands resting on the table. He had no regrets on what he had chosen to do, he was more than confident that his fellow squadmates shared that sentiment. He felt an inner strength in his loyalty to the squad and his leader, maybe it was similar to a family. Probably not.

"Personal life. Its too clear that you aren't a Jedi. Your stubborness isn't rooted in self deluded ideas of righteousness and manipulative idealism. Being anything but that, you understand that the root of life is purely relative. This..."

He spread his hands slowly, taking in everything.

"... is my life."

Crestmere, snickered as he finished off his drink. At least Jerrard could say that much.

[Hera]

"And a very nice life it is, too" she quipped, though neither Jerrard nor Crestmere could be sure if she was mocking them, or rebuking them slightly for the freedom she was denied here.

But it didn't matter because she did not linger on the the subject.

"Tell me, Jerrard - can I call you that? -- is it true about the brainwashing?"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Crestmere's face embodied the human expression of bewilderment, one eye brow raised in such an arch, and his upper lip lifted in a slight sneer, as if he had just seen some atrocity and he had no clue what to make of it.

Jerrard carried some of the same sentiment as he responded her question with one of his own. He had a clue as to what she might mean but he wanted to make sure she exactly what she meant.

"Which part?"

Brainwashing was a provocative term around veteran soldiers. Too many people who saw what soldiers fought for and what gave them motivation was merely propoganda and brainwashing. No one liked to be told what they believed in. fought for, died for was merely a result of brainwashing. Then again, mental conditioning was something entirely different.

[Hera]

Hera canted her head from Jerrard to Crestmere and laughed lowly. His expression was precious.

"Oh c'mon, Victor - we are all big kids here aren't we?" A sparkle of the devil glinted in Hera's blue eyes. "The Jedi are famous for it, the Sith to a certain degree. You guys are no different. You drum in such dogma and boot-clicking pragmatism into breakfast lunch and dinner of your every waking moment of existence, it crowds out free thought and keeps the individual like a suckling calf in its dependency upon its 'calling' "

Hera even added the parenthesis movement to the last word, as she warmed up to her normal sarcastic self.

"But that's not what Im talking about. Im talking about...well, take Helghast for instance. He's not normal. Anyone can see that. He didn't just happen along like that, falling off the back of some truck. That man was made that way. And no amount of speeches and propaganda holovids with subliminal messages is gonna do that to a man."

She paused here, and looked to each of the men sitting a little stupefied beside her. She lowered her voice, conspiratorial-like, "Is it all chemicals? You guys get operated on or something?"

[Y'roth Helghast]

"As to your first part, Mistress of the Sith, once a god, always a human..."

Crestmere's tone was much more cutting than before with her, her title dripping with unfettered sarcasm. He'd seen her interrogation by Helghast. He had heard her stupid song. The Sith to a certain degree? That male adept had been so self absorbed in the BS that Sith Order had leveled into his practically non-existant brain that Crestmere had been laughing the whole time she sang that silly song and every time after IMP had replayed it during the session.

"You don't see the Jedi around anymore. You don't see that many Sith either. And its not because of those brainless stormtroopers, or those utmost in their loyalties to the Empire and the Inquisitoriate who have brought about such an end. Tools, assets to an end. Thats what those people become, And they do so willing, brainwashing would imply something of a different line, forcing them to. No one forces them such a 'calling'..."

Of course, a 10.0 on imitation.

"... as you would call it. Those who don't agree to such terms and can't rise above such a class and still wish to fight are easily identified. We have most of their names in our records under the category 'Traitor.' Everyone has the ability to make a choice here. The consequences that each person faces for their choices can obviously differ greatly."

Jerrard set his glass down from drinking a little harder than what might be considered normal. He had let Crestmere finish that sentence. He knew where Crestmere would go next, to the ones who used said tools. This was an arguement that occured here and there amonst the squad. Free will, the ability to actually operate upon ones own intuition and deductions without being affected by the 'spin' of all that was put out by their most secure Empire. But her second statement, what she had actually meant, was what Jerrard sought to answer.

"Helghast is of the Empire. He is a Child of the Empire. That's all I know, want to know, and have care to tell. Anything that might be gleaned from his past or how it came about is visible in everything he does. You obviously made a clear enough cut out of that one."

He downed more of his drink before continuing, swishing the water around at the bottom of the glass as he mused over the last part.

"Chemicals? The brain operates on chemical reactions, contrary to popular belief, not electronic impulses. Maybe something that is subtle added into what we consume that makes us more susceptible?"

He laughed it off with a casual twist of his mouth. Those kinds of things, if tried, which they probably had been, usually failed. Jerrard was aware of far too many... experiments that had been undertaken by the Imperial R&D on how to make the Empire's soldiers better. He knew only the three sentence summary of what Helghast had come from and that made him shudder on the inside.

"And as far as operations, we all have neural implants. At least in Project Nightmare. When plugged into our armor, everything is on review. And I know that some nueral implants have the ability to inhibit certain aspects but I was responsible for some of the medical work done here in Project Nightmare and I can vouch against that much."

Crestmere shrugged in unison with Jerrard.

[Hera]

"Hmhm" she murmured thoughtfully as Jerrard finished speaking.

She had not liked the tone Crestmere took with her - and his reference to something he couldn't personally know about. How the darkside had the power to transform mere mortality, and how, for all her past ability, there was still so much she had not herself yet tapped into. The Force was not something that could be satisfactorily comprehended by even the most talented of adepts. A wise individual did not discount such a power so contemptibly.

Crestmere had responded, however, with the expected anamosity her question should have drawn from a regular soldier - not from such a special operative like himself. Which was very telling about him. The first of those hidden buttons, perhaps? If he took it as a direct sleight upon his precious Inquisitoriate, he was wrong to do so. Hera could not care less about the moral question of brainwashing. She was as practical in her own approach to acheiving her goals and any means by which they were accomplished, was means enough. The Inquisitoriate had gained her respect in that regard.It was Jerrard who had been the more discerning and replied to the root of her question. The how. She didn't give a damn about the why.

"Neural implants - I can see how they would serve a very practical purpose, especially if you are all connected somehow. Rapid information could be communicated without interuption. Very clever."

She did not probe further regarding Helghast. She was satisfied that the two men here were extremely loyal to their commander. And to their PN unit. But there was some emotion in Jerrard and Victor that was lacking completely in Helghast. Hera felt there would be very little further information forthcoming from either of them regarding Y'roth Helghast and she left off at this time.

She turned once more to Victor, an unnatural calm emanating from her as she spoke, "Too many like you mock the power of the Force" she said without rancor, but with something cold enveloping her words, "but there was a time when the Sith were in the Empire's place, dominating the Galaxy. Their's is not the only rule that can fail."

[Y'roth Helghast]

Doesn't she understand that YOU, WE, are many voices and never one in the same?

No, you blubbering idiots. Leave me to my own speculations and refrain from interjecting your own. I don't... need you for simple conversation.

Lies! You need me!

You need me!

And you need me, too!

I hate you all.

The voices... they all ran together inside his head. One of his headaches was... dawning again, obviously. He needed to sleep it off. He played the sudden occurence off well though, his face turning to that of distaste and obvious disagreement with whatever the failure of a force adept had just finished saying. He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment and then stood. He still retained the look as if she had left a bad taste of in his mouth as he spoke.

"Well, my comrades. This has been quaintly entertaining. I look forward to the next bout of conversation centered around who's winning in the galaxy at which time. But I have things to attend to. Jerrard."

With a slight incline of his head to Jerrard, Crestmere pushed his chair away and casually walked out the door. His grace of movement wasn't like Helghast's, nothing near military perfection and intimidation in stature, but the flexibility in which he walked, it slightly reminded any onlooker of someone they might've seen before but couldn't recall the face.

Jerrard watched Crestmere leave and then sat back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. Crestmere was everyone's favorite person and at the same time, no one's. They had determined over time, in discussions, at briefings, they were never really sure who they were speaking with. Only in battle, behind the Nightmare armor that hid their faces, did they meet the real Victor Crestmere and he was a fiend next to Helghast of an entirely different color.

"Crestmere is one of the Judas' of Alderaan."

That was the name given to the Imperial agents who had assisted the Empire in destroying Alderaan, one way or another. Only the most notorious managed to actually carry the title though; the late Moff Tarkin being the original.

[Hera]

Her eyebrow arched at this latest revelation regarding Crestmere, and Hera was forced to revise again her impression of him.

He certainly was an odd duck. But weren't they all. She was beginning to think Tear was the only sane one among the lot of them, and that alone was a terrifying and very discomforting conclusion.

Jerrard seemed not so bad though, but Hera was not fool enough to take his performance here today as the entire man. He was a part of Project Nightmare - a foundational part, from the things he'd said so far - and she knew she was only scratching a carefully veneered surface of the individual who was completely comfortable working in close concert with Y'roth Helghast. No, she was well aware that she was only brushing the surface of all three individuals this morning.

Jerrard was eyeing her now, leaning back in his chair and Hera returned him a candid stare.

"Well, I swear I used to be more charming. I didn't used to clear a room of men so quickly in my younger days."

[Y'roth Helghast]

"I'm sure."

Jerrard kept himself from rolling his eyes as he leaned forward again. Maybe this was a good enough lead in.

"I'm sure you did. How old are you exactly then? And don't try and fly the Kessel Run around me. You didn't use to clear a room so quickly but if you think you can dodge simple things with me."

He was trying to keep it in simple terms, conveying the underlying message that he was being compliant and conversation as long as she did the same. Between himself, Scothis, and Lang, they had more or less 'normal' soldier lives and casual personalities. Project Nightmare just demanded a whole new aspect to their previous SF parameters. While some would say it took something 'special' or 'exceptional' to work for and to such circumstances, the supposed immoral actions, the black ops, whatever the civilians liked to think of them, the three were more than comfortable with seperating the mission from what they held precious in their rooms.

[Hera]

Hera feigned an injured look.

"Would I lie to you?"

And then she smiled as if she would more than happily lie to him, and have him know that she had.

"Im 39 by standard human years. I am to all extents humanoid, from the planet Kwaylon, but our calandar is a slightly varied version of the universal one in use now. Our years are calulated longer, therefore in number I am closer to 34 or 35 years old on my home planet. But that is neither here nor there."

Hera was very comfortable in her own skin and age was not a consideration she expended any thought on.

"I have not been back to Kwaylon in a very long time. When I left, there were ongoing clan wars and the planet was an unending battleground. That since has passed and there is finally, after sixty years of fighting, a ruling class there now called the Iachi, decendents of the Abradoor clan and Lord Vurdin. I would not be welcome were I ever to go home, as I am from an original opposing family."

She added, almost s a thought unintentionally spoken aloud.

"I haven't thought of Kwaylon in probably twenty years"

[Y'roth Helghast]

Jerrard smiled back at her, not attempting to mock her as Crestmere might but it conveyed near the same message.

"Kwaylon? Sounds out of the way."

Doing the math though, it might or might not be a place where remains of a force adept culture might be. He would log all this away though, for later review, possibly bring something up to Helghast. His eyes drifted to the orb that had idly floated in the back of the room. He had no doubt actually, reconsidering the situation, that Helghast knew everything that had transpired so far. The droid brought a sensation of uncomfort to Jerrard as he remembered it. It hadn't responded to anything so far and that worried him the most. He held his wrist out and checked his chronometer.

"I have a medical review to finish. I enjoyed and appreciate the conversation, Hera. Don't do anything stupid. It'd be comforting to know that some of our more valuable 'guests' can last longer than their estimated expectancy."

[Hera]

"Dont worry about me" she rejoined with an airy wave of her hand and a pleasant smile, "I have the orb to keep me in line."

She remained seated as Jerrard stood and took his leave of her, and followed him with her eyes as he left through the same door as the two others had before him.

Hera sat for some moments, mind mulling over her unusual morning. She finally stood and crossed over to look out at the endless stars that appeared as if they were just beyond her reach. Behind her blue eyes, something indiscernable moved, like a ripple of motion in the lower depths a deep pool as some creature far beneath the surface was present but had just as quickly vanished in the briney depths. Staring out at the stars, no expression on her face, the Sith finally adressed the IMP droid who hovered silently behind her.

"Nice view"

And she turned at last, walking smoothly to exit the way she had come in.