The Machinations of a Truly Insidious Mind.

[Doctor Zanon]

Nar Shaddaa:

The gentle sound of the morning, of brightly colored birds singing and the breeze rustling the willow trees, woke him from his slumber. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on the ceiling above him, and the sunlight that was flooding in to illuminate it. He laid and watched it for a time, marveling at it's brightness and the warmth of it's color. Finally he rose to the edge of the bed, resting his feet on the soft carpet. Kneading it with his toes. A smile crept across his face. What a wonderful day!

Getting up at last he willed his old bones across the room, pulling his nightdress off his body on his way to the connected refresher. The little radio was switched on, and it's pleasant sound filled the small room, hiding the sound of his ablutions. The sonic shower was switched on, and while it was warming up and filling the air with it's hum, he marveled at himself in the mirror. He made all manner of faces and poses, even flexing his thin arms to show off imaginary biceps. Satisfied with himself, he stepped into the sonic. A quick spin and he was out again, feeling clean and refreshed for the day.

Back in his bedroom the bed was made and a smart suit had been set out on the bed. The music of the refresher was replaced by the familiar sound of birdsong. He hummed along as he pulled the suit on. One piece at a time. Shoes? They were nowhere to be seen. Still humming he walked around the bed and by the door there was a selection of shoes ranging from all sorts. On instinct he reached for the polished loafers that would so naturally compliment the dark navy of his suit. Thinking better of it, however, he grabbed a pair of boots instead.

Looking himself in a mirror on the wall, smoothing his thin beard and running his hand across his bald head, he was finally presentable. Winking at his reflection, Zanon finally stepped through the door...

...and into the cold, hard interior of durasteel bulkheads that stretched out on all sides of the bunker hallway. The artificial sunlight and birdsong were left behind. The deck plate clunked noisily underneath is boots as he walked down the hallway. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back. One hallway lead to another, and finally to a door. Someone had written the word "Laboratory" above the door shoddily with spray paint and mismatched stencils. A optical and hand scanner were employed to open the thick blast door.

Inside was what could be described as a stereotypical lab. Equipment and tables full of smaller equipment littered the room. Machines zipped and zoomed, and in the corner something was glowing brightly. There were noises, animal noises, coming from cages that were stacked in another corner. A opening in the opposite wall from the door lead down into an operating theater. From here, in the observation ring, he could see down into a heavily reinforced pit of incredible size. An arena. Down on the floor sat two operating tables, and strapped to each was a person. One male, one female. The first was a large brooding male. The other a pale raven haired woman.

"Good morning children!" He said through the intercom attached to the glass. Their sleeping eyes opened and looked up at him. Zanon waved. Still smiling, he moved away and headed for the staircase that lead down to the floor below. Along the way he passed a small, shriveled creature; pale, skinny, nearly hairless, with big eyes. He said nothing to it, but did accept the mug and lab coat it offered to him. With a dismissive wave he banished Kane, sending the creature scuttling away to fulfill the rest of his duties. Zanon had not forgotten the slight of forgetting to set out his shoes this morning. He would deal with Kane later.

Stepping into the operating floor, he walked up to the two tables; moving up beside the male subject. "Good morning Rethguals. Did you sleep well?" His free hand ran across the muscular torso of his prize subject.

[Rethguals]

The lights came on with a loud thunk. The door opening in the distance let the large man know that it was now 'day' in his world. The lights above were painful to stare into so his gaze drifted down, trying to see the door, to see when the mad man would arrive. And arrive he did, wasting no time. He came closer, closer. Standing beside Rethguals now, who at 6'4" nearly took up the entire operating table.

The large man gritted his teeth, his jawline tensing as if he'd bite the mad man's fingers if he could get the chance as the hand slid over his torso. His massive chest heaved, the straps tightening against his frame automatically. Rethguals knew that to struggle was futile, to attempt to escape, to think of escaping was futile. To dream of hope was futile. But something from the beginning, something from when he had first awoken in the mad man's prison had clicked inside Rethguals and he had never stopped struggling. To fight was to live. To live was to fight. Reth had no idea how long it had been but no one deserved this. No one deserved him. Rethguals thought of none of this though. Not time to think, trying to stifle his heavy breathing. It was time to wait and see.

[Doctor Zanon]

"Lively, as usual." Zanon remarked with a smirk. His hand traveled up the well toned body to the man's face, where he grabbed his square chin and held his head steady so as to get a better look. "Your eye is looking much better today. All healed up. The Super Bacta appears to be working. Memo to self; come up with a better name than Super Bacta. Nobody will want to buy that, now will they Rethguals? Super Bacta. The very idea." Releasing his chin, Zanon stepped away from the table and walked over to the other one.

The woman on the table was pale, and only clothed in enough strips of cloth to barely protect her modesty. Her pale skin was waxy and the flesh around her eyes was red and enflamed. From crying, no doubt. The Super Bacta did little to numb pain, and Zanon had removed both of her arms at the shoulder. In their place was a mechanical replacement. Large, black steel constructs much larger than her previous set of arms. They were fully articulate, heavily reinforced, and ended in a pair of claws that could rend durasteel. It had been a delicate operation requiring incredible precision to integrate all her nerve endings and bind the muscles. The operation was a success. If she lived. Only time would have the final say. He had done all he could.

"Yvette is not yet combat ready. You will have to do your drill alone again today, Reth. I'm sure you're up to it. Try not to lose another eye." He giggled a bit at the idea of a completely blind Rethguals. Perhaps he should begin work on new eyes just in case. Beside each of the operations tables was a smaller tool cart, and on top of each was a large ring. Picking up the one beside Reth Zanon carefully pushed it up against his neck and clamped it into place. The device attached itself to the port in the back of his neck and interfaced. The mind control collar, as Zanon called it, was more of a inhibitor and deterrent than a true mind controller. It was capable of shutting down the wearer's body in a moment or deliver extremely painful shocks, or even kill them if it came down to that. Rethguals and Yvette had already been conditioned to not resist the collars. They knew better now.

"To the Test Chamber with you." He released the bindings that secured Reth to the table and allowed the big man to get up. Zanon didn't follow him into the adjacent room, through another blast door, into a blood soaked dead end room. The only other exits was hatches in the ceiling. The only object in the room was a sword. It was a large, impractical and heavy weapon, but in Reth's enhanced arms it proved a versatile weapon. From the laboratory Zanon watched through monitors, his fingers dancing across a console. Music was turned on to enhance his enjoyment. Finally he pressed a button, and the ceiling hatches opened up. From above dropped down several naked pale skinned, white haired individuals. They carried blades of their own. Their red eyes stared out blindly. Grabbing the comm mic and pulling it closer to his mouth, Zanon spoke into the test room.

"Begin. Destroy the Zereth clones."

The clones charged, and more were falling down periodically from the ceiling.

[Rethguals]

The collar clamped around his neck and as it interfaced, like every time, Rethgual's muscles all seemed to tense at once until the process was complete. Once complete, the large man always felt like he went completely limp before his mind caught up with itself as if it were still making its own decisions but unsure if it actually could or not.

"To the Test Chamber with you."

With an order, his mind finally allowed itself to think it could begin making decisions. The bindings released and he sat up, only catching the back of the mad man before he stood. He glanced at Yvette, she was tired, poor thing. How long had they been together but apart? How long had they watched each other? She had lost to the fight a long time ago. Rethguals had tried to accept that without hating her for it. To fight was to live, to live was to fight. She had stopped fighting something along the way, and now she no longer lived. Not as she would have. Was Yvette really even her name?

He was already standing inside the chamber. He glanced around quickly before his arm reached out. His large hand slid over the long handle of the massive slab of metal that he had been wielding since the mad man had allowed him to use it. The handle was taped, the slightest comfort that Rethguals had been able to improve upon. That tape was soaked in blood and at least helped some in preventing the sword, if one would call it that, from slipping from his hands. He brought it before him, held aloft, as the mechanical noises began in the background. They were coming. They would be here soon. The music began and Rethguals tensed, his feet spreading slightly, taking up a stance from which he felt like a coil, bound tight, about to release. His one eye held to the ceiling hatch.

They clambered out of the hatch in the ceiling. Animals. Not people. Not even really animals. Just... dolls. He hated the dolls. As much as he hated the mad man. They all held pieces of metal, bladed, serrated, and otherwise for others. Some fell on their faces or backs as they clambered out, lithe, human-shaped dolls. Their red eyes searched about the room frantically, a few of them coming to rest on him. The dolls stood in different forms of all the same man, some hunched over, some squatting like an animal watching their prey like a jackal, one or two stood straight up. These things too, had once stopped fighting. Never stop fighting. Never stop living.

"Begin. Destroy the Zereth clones."

The collar, like a cool piece of metal against the skin, pressed against the back of his neck but not for long as Rethguals' mind fell into place, deciding to act before the collar might react negatively. Zereth clones, the mad man called them. Clones of Zereth, whoever that was or was Zereth some kind of classification? Questions that always slipped behind mind as the large man braced for the charge of the first two. He took one heavy step forward, bringing the massive blade around, the momentum becoming a force of its own. The roar that resounded through the room was from Rethguals own mouth before he even recognized it. A new day. Every day. Most days. Fighting to live. Living to fight. Rethguals caught the two charging clones in their down swing, the blade deflecting their attacks but knocking them back. Rethguals' muscles strained in the reversal of the swing as he stopped the natural course of the momentum and then brought it down. The first two were still recovering from being knocked back when the blade came down and severed them both from shoulder to hip with almost no resistance, the weight of the blade, its edge, and Rethguals' strength crushing flesh and bone with ease.

One appeared at his side, lunging, his blade sliding into the outside of Rethguals' thigh. Rethguals roared again, his sword clunking against the ground as one hand released to grab the closest clone by the face. His large hand drove downwards, slamming the clone into the ground, the now free hand withdrawing the sword and casting it to the side, as Rethgual's bare foot slammed down on the clone's neck, crushing it beneath. The large man lunged, bringing the sword low as his free hand joined at the hilt. The sword was maybe seven feet long, maybe longer, and so like in this case, the next clone was not prepared for its reach as Rethguals pushed it forward and then lifted, catching between the clone's legs. Not enough momentum to cut, but the sword picked up the body and Rethguals hurled the clone to the side and against the wall as he brought the sword around. Another clone trying to get around him tried to jump back, out of the back swing but it crashed through his torso, severing him in half. The visceral blood spraying everywhere from the initial deaths was only repainting the habitual decor of the room. The sword came back, horizontally and destroyed three clones in one slice. While Rethguals' feet moved to accommodate the fight, he had only taken four steps forward from distance wise from where he had begun.

But their numbers were increasing. They always did. Wherever so many Zereth clones came from, they were legion and Rethguals was a one man army. He breathed with only slight stress, more from the wound in his leg than anything else. The clones were staying back, their numbers gathering. Rethguals had to bring it to them or else they would overwhelm him. Like last time. Like always. He was not there yet, not tired, never tired of fighting, but tired from fighting. He lunged, sword spearing forward, skewering one across it. He drove it down at an angle, pinning the clone to the ground before yanking hard to the left, the sword ripping through the impaled clone's soft mid rift. It caught another clone's leg, severing it before crashing into the arm and torso of another, slamming it against the wall where the sword, ignoring the flesh between it and the paneled wall, rebounded into another clone. Rethguals kicked out at a clone that came to close, bowling the clone over and sending him skidding through the blood on the floor. Rethguals almost slipped in blood himself, just a moment, but a moment long enough for four to come forward. One leaped in the air, serrated blade aimed down. The sword, faster than the clones' were expecting came back up, swatting the leaping one out of the air, blood spraying all of them, as Rethguals' brought the sword down, slamming two of them into the ground, sparks flying as the blade skipped, more blood and the sound of bones snapping in the recycled air.

[Doctor Zanon]

Zanon watched the carnage enfold on the monitor. He sat with rapt attention, his coffee going cold in his hand. Forgotten. The clones were no match for someone as strong as Rethguals. They were weak, flimsy constructs who's only advantage was numbers. They were nothing like the genetic masterpiece that had spawned them. Zereth Lancer was his greatest achievement. A super soldier crafted by hand selected genetic pedigree and then twisted and modified until he barely resembled his origin. While Reth had his size and strength, he would never have the speed, stamina, and fortitude of Zereth. Close, but no cigar, as they said in the core worlds. It was a shame, but it was all part of the big plan.

Reth, and Yvette, were there to test the clones as much as the clones existed to test them. A symbiotic relationship that bound the two together. Together they grew stronger together. Better clones were manufactured, new techniques learned for piecing the puzzles back together, and at the same time his two toys became more experienced at playing war and strong enough to survive more modifications by his own hand. It was almost an arms race to see which one would finally trump the other for control of his heart, but in the end, the plan was always for the two to fail. Doomed from the start.

The display was amazing, as usual, and he quite enjoyed it. In ways that more so called civilized people would frown upon. However, it needed to come to an end. His subject was becoming overwhelmed, and there was more than enough data collected to keep him busy for the next week before beginning on a new batch of clones. "Enough." He commanded and pressed a button on his console. A sound played over the speakers. It was not harsh or grating, but uncomfortable all the same. The pale, naked clones froze in their places, faces empty and eyes as soulless as ever. They turned and ran back to where they came from, climbing back up into the ceiling like insects returning to their hive. The dead were left behind. "Return to the lab. Kane, get in there and clean up this mess."

Zanon put away his things and began collecting the necessary instruments to repair the damage Reth had sustained.

[Rethguals]

The signal came after an endless time of slaughter. The Zereth clones stopped as if they had never been fighting. They showed no sign that they were even tired. Rethguals dropped the severed limb from his free hand as blood dripped from the numerous lacerations and wounds across his body. With the fight over, the adrenaline slipped from his body like the blood that pooled at his feet. The weariness that overtook him was numbing and made his limbs feel heavier than the sword that he drug behind him as he turned towards the door.

He inevitably slipped, falling to one knee before Rethguals caught himself, gritting his teeth, one hand held over the larger wound in his thigh. No, the fight was not over. The battle still raged, there were breaks, lapses of time but the fight would continue. Never stop fighting. To fight was to live. The massive piece of metal that Rethguals used as a sword clattered to the ground as he stood on his feet and staggered out of the chamber, up the incline and back into the lab. His mouth was open, labored breathing, bracing himself against the wall; a red smear trailed behind him.

Stumbling into the lab, he glanced at Yvette, her eyes simply staring at the ceiling. He grunted, coughing, as he approached his own slab. Never stop fighting... Never stop... living...

The large man collapsed partially against the table, one arm stretched across it.

[Doctor Zanon]

Zanon's tongue clicked disapprovingly in his mouth as the lumbering oaf dragged a bloody mess through the laboratory. He gave the man no help. He deserved nothing. If he could not survive well enough to return to his table than he did not deserve to live. It would be a shame to have to start over with a new subject, but it was only a small setback in the grand scheme of things. Once he was back on the table Zanon wasted no time strapping him back in. The metal retaining bars were left off, but the reinforced straps that bound him loosely would suffice for now. After all, he would need to move him about to stitch him back together.

With a clap of his hands a deactivated medical droid came to life and rolled out of the corner. "Cutter, begin stitching his wounds." He tasked while he busied himself setting up an IV drip and blood pack. The man was bleeding out. Already his skin was beginning to watch Yvette's with it's pale, waxy look. Almost like it was fake. He contemplated the idea of replacing all his skin with synthetic flesh instead, but only for a moment. What a silly idea. Still... perhaps there was some merit to be had there. He made a mental note to revisit the idea at a later time when Rethguals was not bleeding to death.

Grabbing a scalpel, Zanon cut through Rethguals' tight fitting compression shorts and removed the blood soaked cloth. Cutter moved into place, his specially calibrated limbs spinning into action. Two smaller hands pressed the flesh together while it's main pair began effortlessly passing the needle through his flesh at incredible speed. In no time flat the worst injury was patched up. Sliding into place behind the droid, Zanon applied a patch of his super bacta to the wound. He applied it carefully, sticking down the adhesive ends with much care to make sure it fit around the curvature of the thigh. Cutter continued to move around his body, stitching him back together. Zanon ignored the twitches and gasps of pain. Anesthetic was for people, not things.

Soon everything was complete. Cutter returned to his charging station and Zanon stood over his subject, inspecting his naked body. "So bloody. So sweaty." He said to no one in particular. Thinking out loud. He ran a finger over a sweaty pectoral muscle and brought it up, examining his finger a moment before sticking it into his mouth. He clicked his tongue again. "You disappoint me Rethguals. I expect great things from you, but it has become readily apparent that you are nothing without your sister. There will be more more tests until Yvette has recovered. If she recovers. You better hope she does, or you will be of very little use to me..." He ran the same finger along the well toned body, going ever lower. Uncomfortable lower. Invasively lower.

"There will be only one use for you if that happens."

[Rethguals]

Rethguals' eyes moved behind closed eyelids. His body tensed throughout the repairs and relaxed sporadically. He gritted his teeth together, hissing through them as the pain of his struggle was revisited upon him from beyond the depths of exhaustion. As the droid stitched each wound, Rethguals relived the fury of the moment in which the wounds were inflicted, the dead gaze of the Zereth clones, the massive sword crushing what little life there was to them.

By the time it was done and the twisted man was speaking, Rethguals' was gritting his teeth for a different reason, the control collar still very much apparently around his neck. His fists clenched, finger nails biting into the meat of his palms. The revulsion of the man, his pure hatred for the man and what the man had turned Rethguals into, all of it felt like a dark sponge at his very core that soaked up his fury and rage. He would wring it out in the next fight, the next struggle. He would obliterate everything in his path as if it were this man.

Never stop fighting. Never stop living.

[Doctor Zanon]

"Heal up quickly. I have an assignment for the two of you."

Yes. A new assignment indeed. A combat field test coupled with a resource grab. He was running low on genetic material to make his clones with, and augment Rethguals and Yvette. No materials meant shutting down until he got his hands on more, and his usual avenues were not available this time. So many times he had conned resources from the Empire and the now the newly founded Alliance. He applied for grants for research purposes under a fake purpose. Something grand and noble, and then he ran off with everything not nailed down. He had done it so many times that there was now a hefty bounty on his head. Zanon was not afraid. This was not even the face they were looking for. He had changed it so many times.

Usually when somebody got close enough to kill him.

It was a strange existence knowing that you were a clone. He was grounded in the knowledge that he was a perfect recreation right down to his memories and thoughts. There was nothing different between him and the many forms that came before other than changes to his physical appearance. Always human, though. He couldn't stomach the idea of turning himself into another species. The very thought made his skin crawl and stomach turn. Better dead than that. He made a mental note to check on his emergency clone. It slumbered in a hidden place, in cryogenic sleep, waiting for the signal that would be sent upon Zanon's death to activate.

Being immortal gave you very little to fear.

Moving away from the now patched up Rethguals, he tossed a blanket over his naked body, and headed over to Yvette to begin inspecting her recovery. His fingers played across her body, poking at inflamed tissue and to apply more super bacta. His hands wandered often. Occasionally he giggled under his breath. After awhile he left the room, talking to himself under himself as he made plans for the near future.

[Yvette]

The madman was finally gone, and for the first time in what felt like a solemn eternity, Yvette blinked her eyes and swallowed the saliva building up in the back of her throat. Lifting her head and turning it slowly, she looked over at the only other sentient being in the room. Her eyes, red and buffy around the edges from the ocular implants, looked across at Rethguals. She strained against her shackles, but only for a moment before the familiar restraint neutralized any intention of trying to escape. Her limbs were strong, even if moving them still hurt, and composed a large percentage of her body now. It would seem the madman couldn't decide if her was making an augmented human or a droid with flesh.

"Did you kill a lot of them?"

The question was so simple, and unnecessary, and yet it was the first words she had spoken since Zanon cut her arms off. The last time, when he took her legs, she hadn't spoken in weeks. Her voice trembled slightly. There was pain in them. It was more emotion than she had displayed in some time. Her voice was always so cold, empty. Like a droid. The humanity had died a long time ago, but here, in this moment, there was a spark in her eyes. Weak. Nearly extinguished. An ember at the bottom of an ocean of darkness.

[Rethguals]

A few drops of blood dripped from his hands as he released his clenched fists. His eyes opened slowly, unsure of the sound until he played it back in his mind a few times. Rethguals did not bother lifting his head regardless of the small amount of shock and relief that Yvette's voice granted him. His jaw relaxed enough for his teeth to come undone and speak.

"Since we last spoke... I've lost count... Just then... seventeen..."

Rethguals tried to remain still, as still as possible, not getting his heart rate up, nothing to alarm the mad man that anything was out of the norm. This was good. Yvette was talking. She had not given up yet. Any sign of life at this point was better than her catatonic state of the last several weeks. Must keep fighting. Must keep living.

"I'll kill more... We'll kill more... More..."

​Him.

[Yvette]

"Have you ever wondered..."

She began, her voice cracking just a little from lack of use and a dry throat. She tried to swallow, but there was no moisture. She had only been given enough to survive. The nutrient feed that ran into her arm would keep her alive, but it was nothing compared to actual liquid pouring down her throat. She missed that more than anything. Real food was a rare luxury that the madman bestowed upon them like a miracle from a god for them to ravenously devour in an instant lest he take it away from them. He liked that, to take away everything they had. She had thought long ago, many hardships ago, that he had already taken everything she had, but somehow he continued to steal more and more away. Her time, her body, her humanity, and her soul.

"...Who Zereth is?"

[Rethguals]

Zereth. Zereth Clones. Person? Classification?

Rethguals kept his eyes closed, trying to keep his breathing stable as his last encounter with the Zereth clones flashed behind his eye lids.

"Zereth."

Weight in the very name. The large man said as much between barely opened lips. Struggling to not ring out that sponge of hatred at mention of the name.

"I've... We've seen the face of Zereth many times... Whoever he is, the mad man... Zereth is connected to the mad man. Friend... foe?"

In short his answer to Yvette was yes. It was in this solemn quiet that he often ran his mind through the same circles, over and over in continuum. The questions, at times, could be suffocating in their own regard.

[Yvette]

"The Doctor speaks of him. A lot. Zereth is important to him, but his clones are weak. We kill dozens of them. Why clone so weak a creature?"

They were looking for logic behind the machinations of a madman. She knew it was futile, and perhaps even impossible, but it was all she had. There was little else to think about that was not horrible self inflection. She couldn't go there. That was a dark place and once she went there she had a hard time coming back out. No. She latched back on to the conversation, however irrelevant it was.

"Maybe Zereth was like us?"

[Rethguals]

"I hope not. I hope Zereth was something that brought him... that brought him great pain and loss."

Rethguals kept his eyes closed tight now as the rage roiled within him, some satisfaction at the thought that might bring any kind of despair to the mad man.

"I hope that every loss, every dead Zereth pangs the mad man somehow. Maybe he finds some kind of catharsis in how we slaughter them... Or not. Maybe the clones are simply his easiest template. Would later make the same of us...?"

The room seemed so sterile as he opened his eyes. Looking about at the ceiling. The lights gave no reprieve. There was never any reprieve. Ever.

"Was Zereth a failure and nothing more?"

[Yvette]

She didn't reply immediately. She contemplated while the silence rolled over them.

"We... We may never know. This Zereth is probably dead. Zanon... he thinks he creates, but all he does is destroy. Zereth is lucky. I wish I was dead."

Her eyes closed and she turned her head away. There was no hiding the tears. Instead she shut the world out, just like so many times before. The Laboratory, the bright lights, and Rethguals all faded away.