Private Bend, or Break

[Lirka Ka]

Once, Lirka put her cherished prisoners within the bowels of Fortress Imperious. That grandiose tumor of dark metal that blighted the scarred surface of Concordia but no, not this time: things had changed, and today Lirka needed to work away from the prying eyes of the Empire.

For today? Lirka served none but herself in the frigid, abyssal, darkness of the dungeons. Where was it? Who knew. Likely in one of the many dozens of worlds that dotted the Sephi’s domain, or could it be an asteroid in the void of space? A warship drifting in between the great nothingness between worlds? Maybe all were true, maybe none were: such was the great paradox the Sephi laid before her prisoners, one of a thousand tortures to wrack and break their minds.

For what else was there to think about?

Sound did not leave their cells, nothing from the outside reached in: merely the same crushing darkness that Lirka had met in her many near-death-experiences, all would see the glory of her Abyssal Patriarch: or they would simply be forced to open their eyes. But the handful of miserable wretches that toiled and warped in her dark halls mattered not today, only one prisoner did: one Aerith Castiella for whom Lirka had pulled from the failed defense of Bastion, for while the Empire suffered it’s great loss, Lirka merely had claimed another of her many victories. A new pawn, a new piece for her Game.

Pound in heavy shackles the color of dark iron; such an archaic method of imprisonment that Lirka had come to grossly favor in recent days, the glowing eyes of the monstrous Sephi’s helmet pierced the nearly complete darkness, the distorted crackling of Lirka’s voice the loudest thing her captive would’ve heard in days.

“Find solace, Girl. You won.”

It seemed only fair to relay the news of the traitors’ victory on bastion, but ultimately: Lirka never was so kind.

“And so unfortunate, here you are, left for dead, forgotten to the darkness.”

She spoke the second sentence with a sadistic glee, a toothy smile growing beneath her blank faced helm.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

She had lost count of the days. Time had no meaning anymore. Bound by strange metal, the cyborg had awoken to find herself not on a battle field, but within a prison. Her limbs had been harshly repaired, just enough so that she could feed herself when the rare food rations were dispersed; not that she ate much anyways.

There was a voice taunting her, somewhere in the darkness of this cell. It mocked her, telling her of the NIO's victory, but reminding the woman that no one was coming for her. She was forgotten. Abondoned. Despite her three deployments, near perfect record, and combat potential....they had let her be taken. It was possible her squad had all been killed. But even then, they should have tried to find her...right?

Anxiety ravaged her mind, terror at knowing what awaited her, and knowing she had no way out. A device had been drilled into the metalic clamps around her neck. She reasoned it was some sort of ion device, with it's sole intent being to keep her in check. She swore she could hear laughter when it was deployed, paralyzing and causing her agony at a moments notice. Why didn't they just kill her and get it over with? It was obvious, they wanted to reperpose her. They were going to rewire her. Make her back into a tool, and ensure she would never get free again.

She had no more tears to cry, no more defiance left within her. They were going to use her like a tool all over again, and she had no say in it. Now, she could only wait in the darkness, mind numb for she had nothing else to reflect on. Once again, the people she had depended on had abondoned her. Now, she could only await her sentencing.

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

And with each did step, did the glow of Lirka grow: a dark, radiant, angel of jagged metal, angry horns, and endless malice. Far from the saviors and paragons of myth, or the aliens of Iego. There was only Lirka, and her pure and unfiltered hate for all things in this Galaxy. The monstrous Sephi, still clad in that same war-plate from Bastion reached down a clawed hand, grabbing Aerith Castiella by the jaw. Lirka, to no surprise, took a careful precision to stab her razor-sharp claws into her flesh just enough for small dots of blood to form.

"A shame, really. They have not seen the value I have."

Her helmed face, leaned in: so close now that the intricate runes that covered every inch of her armor glistened from the emerald light her lenses flared out. A tone that mixed being matter-a-fact and mocking all the same oozed out from the monster's twisted words.

"I will remake you. You shall bend, and you shall twist, and you shall break. And you will arise from the ashes, Girl. Just like me."

She let the last words hang, Lirka had always set herself as a monster to the naive and uninitiated in the truths of this Galaxy. And besides, these traitors despised "loyal servants of the Emperor" like herself. And what better torment than to remake them into the very thing they had fought against?

"But I must know, Child. Have you heard His voice, felt the weight of the end-of-all-things rest upon your shoulders, have you seen The Dark."

She growled out the words of her "deity" with a sick, and twisted glee.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

Just as she was starting to accept this new state of life, she witnessed a sight that would be burned deep, deep into her memory banks. She had heard stories of demons, tales of entities that came crawling back from the neither-world of the force, hungry for souls to torment. She hadn't believed in them since she was a little girl, but for a few moments, she nearly became a believer as an glowing red entity began to stomp towards her. It was a creature shaped of metal and magma, glowing and towering, perhaps able to bend and rend metal with it's jagged shapes. Terror squeezed at Aerith's heart, as she went limp, the usually unflappable cyborg buckled, knowing just what awaited her. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she was seized by the chin, jagged metal digging into the parts of her face that she could still feel.

The words that the demon spoke, she didn't understand. Then again, nothing made sense anymore. She couldn't muster the words, any sane thought having been stuck in her mind, fear tearing and dissolving any sensible words that she could possibly make. This was a nightmare she had been terrified of for a long time, and now, it was looking her right in the eye, more than happy to destroy what little was left of her. The demon stared into her soul, runes of it's hellish language almost blinding, it's lenses reflecting like a mirror into the torture and shattered expression that Aerith now wore. The tears broke free, flowing down her cheek, mixing with the pinpricks of blood that began to flow down her face. She could only muster four words, the only four words that made any sense to her. "Get it over with." Her voice was weak, perhaps not even heard by the demon that held her captive. But she had so little to cling to. No one could save her for what was about to happen, and no one would even notice she was gone. 'Just spare parts. That's all you are. All you will ever be.' The unofficial label of her old master came back into play, as if Aerith could shut down any further, she would. Pain was no longer a factor, nor fear. All she felt now, was numbness. A numbing sensation that seemed it would never end.

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Always had Lirka carried herself as a demon, a mythical creature of murder and carnage: and whilst the Sephi remained unaware that finally it had worked outside her own crushing melodramatic ideologies. But Lirka's malice was boundless, even without the knowledge of the choking aura of fear that surrounded her presence in this cursed place.

"I will make you stay awake long enough to feel every laceration, even twist, every snap, just as I had before you."

Lirka let go of the woman's chin, rising to her feet, towering over her new pawn once again.

"You mistake my benevolence for a curse, you foolish girl. You shall be reborn."

And with that, a blade of burning emerald flashed into light: was it the executioner's blade, finally coming for the neck of Aerith Castiella? But no such strike came, instead with the whistle of air being cut the blade slashed through the prisoner's bonds: but this was not freedom, no, it was far from it. It was the entrance into a new, twisted hell.

"Rise, whelp."

Lirka let her command echo, the crackle of her voice filling the room.

 

[Aerith Krayt]

The words were empty, there was nothing there for her to respond to. It was just affirmation of what awaited her. Nothing else. Reborn? How many times did she have to die before they got the message. She hadn't been living to begin with. When the blade had come for her, she closed her eyes, mind going back to Shai, of her friends that she had in the NIO, and...maybe just a small bit of her parents. Alas, that was too good to be true. As the shackles were cut away, Aerith fell to her knees, her servos buckling under the new strain, as the sharp pain of prosthetic feedback stabbed at her. Her lifeless eyes looked up to Lirka, listening to the droning voice of the demon before her.

There was no point in resisting. It would be done regardless of how agreeable she was here and now. Rising, Aerith winced as the pain lashed out at her, feeling a desire to just lay down and die; but they would just rip her back from the other world if that was to be.

She had nothing left to say.

Words meant nothing here and now.

She was a tool. Meant to be used and thrown away when she was broken, and she was far from broken for the likes of the Sith.

Lirka Ka