Ras Val'kor
sp00k
Mid-day.
"There's hope for you, I hope you know that. Nobody is ever left in the dark by themselves, sometimes it just takes a guiding hand to find your way out."
"Your service is strictly to serve and complete orders, you are not here to feel or understand anything. Do as you're told, agent."
"We've got your back, sir."
"DON'T HOLD BACK! PUSH!"
Iprotis struggled to control his movements, his arm fighting him as he held a blaster pistol to his own head, merely an inch away from squeezing the trigger. The fight between who controlled this vessel was not fully over with.
Ras Val'kor was not completely dead, and still clung to what little life he had. His own mind was becoming foreign, memories being purged and ripped out by the thing that inhabited his skin. He fought so hard each day and night, and even in dreams that should be his, but instead were twisted nightmares from the depths of a darkness he couldn't quite comprehend.
Regaining some control over the murderous limb, Iprotis exhaled with relief. The human was strong, much stronger than he originally anticipated. Though broken from the battle on Dubrillion, the former Imperial-turned-Rebel put up quite the fight. It was a losing battle, but Ras wanted the Sithspawn to understand that he would never let go so passively.
Angered that he was still having to deal with this issue, Iprotis stormed down a private hallway and into an all-white chamber with a singular chair stationed in the center. He stopped himself, realizing the amount of pain it would induce to be conscious during such a procedure. From the far right of the room, a small automated door opened to reveal a medical droid.
Standard procedure, yet Iprotis ignored this.
Approaching the chair with a more calmed demeanor, he seated himself and proceeded to connect a series of wires to his scalp and forehead. Leaning back, he exhaled softly and awaited the initiation of the program. Within a few moments, the Sithspawn began to experience a horrid, piercing migraine; his hands clenching the chair's armrests tightly, his teeth clenched to the point of almost breaking.
Muscles tensed, and every emotion that came with each memory ran through Iprotis' host body. In this way he understood more about his victim than anyone else ever would. Every secret, every hidden feeling that was buried underneath alcoholism and denial.
Even the thoughts of killing his friends.
The thoughts of committing betrayal.
Ras Val'kor was no saint, but a liar in his own heart.
The pain stopped. The procedure was now ever.
Iprotis leaned up in a daze, slowly getting back to his feet. A blank expression set upon his face, somewhat confused. Experiencing the life and emotions of another living being was quite interesting, and almost as equally perverse. But for the Sithspawn, he found comfort in knowing that the more he grew in dominance, the more insignificant Ras will become.
This body was his now, and he would not give it up. He would fulfill its highest purpose and calling with excellent service to the Empire. Exiting the room, Iprotis decided it was time for him to prime and check his arsenal and gear. This would at the very least allow him the time and space to fully understand the intricacies of his enemy.
One day, he would fully destroy him.
And on that day, the Empire will still be standing as it rightfully should be.
No other substitute.
Only service.