I Wanted A Pterodactyl :(

[J3C0]

Mierin stood behind a small pane of glass watching a myriad of doctors speaking to one another. Her eyelids threatened to drift shut at any moment, the bright yellow glow of her eyes obscured by crimson red as she slowly fell into a slumber. Besides her stood a small man, about the same size as her wearing a labcoat and glasses explaining all the things they did here at the medical center.

She walked with him, her steps short and exaggeratedly lazy.

This was the boring part of her job. She was here to find force users plain and simple. Jedi, or potential Sith whose blood had been run through a midi-chlorian detector. Of course this was done discreetly, an thus once a month Mierin needed to journey to this place in order to find the results. This time however one of the doctors had pulled her aside for a little chat about the appropriation of funding, something that she did not enjoy.

“Yes Doctor, thats all well and good.” Mierin said hardly paying attention to the man.

Out of the corner of her eyes however, she saw something.

 

[Mantorok]

Slowly he awoke.

Beady eyes snapping open and then quickly back shut when confronted by the blinding lights above him. What had happened? He had come to this facility for a simple smash job, show that even the minds of medical science weren't immune to paying protection and well, everything was going swimmingly. The lives of hundreds of beakers had been lost, fancy microscopes, things that lit up, the machine that went ping!

Mantorok was the scourge of laboratories everywhere.

Then nothing. Blackness. He couldn't even recall the moment in which he lost consciousness but it had happened, but why?

He might have pondered that question had he not been distracted by the fact that he seemed to be immobile. His eyes opened once more, this time with enough conviction to ignore the bright lights. What he saw did not best please him. The Chistori had been strapped down to an operating table, durasteel bonds too, they were going safe rather than sorry. Panic did not strike him first. No.

Rage.

Suddenly Mantorok roared, both startling and spraying saliva over the white coats that surrounded him upon the table. He tried to thrash, tried like a champ, but he was completely secure, even his head was strapped down. Were they mad scientists? Was this their revenge? Maybe. The saurian didn't care for motives, he just wanted one thing:

“RAAAAAGH!!! RELEASE ME!!! NOW!!!”

[member="Darth Mierin"]

 

[J3C0]

Mierins eyes turned towards the howling scream of the beast to her left. Immediately the lids raised themselves and stark yellow peered towards the creature, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she watched it scream and demand its release.

The nearly seven foot alien raged and screamed, tearing at his bonds and thrashing against the restraints that held him into place. The Pureblood slowly walked over to the pane of glass that separated him from the rest of the medical center, his silent screams becoming audible as she touched the pane of glass and the vibrations translated. Her lips turned upwards into a smile, her head snapping back towards the doctor behind her.

“That thing, what is it?” She demanded of him, her eyes drifting back towards him.

Mierin could sense great power from the creature, she could feel the force, the hatred, the anger, it was beautiful. A trail of goosebumps went up her spine, tingling slightly as the darkside rushed through her.

It called to the creature, soothing and silencing.

 

[Mantorok]

“Requesting a sedative, sir.”

It was hard to tell which coat the voice came from, every single being in the room (bar him) had a surgical mask over their face and the disorientating effect of his rage left him thrashing aimlessly, not really taking any of their words in. I mean, man, look at those teeth, they could rip into a bantha hide like it was nothing! He was a beast!

“No need, it'll tire out soon,” a new voice said with a certain degree of authority.

Although, tire out wasn't exactly how Mantorok would have described it. His futile struggles petered out like rain upon Charmander's tail (don't cry) as the Chistori was seemingly subdued by nothing. Slowly ceasing all gnashing of teeth and spraying of spittle. His nostrils still huffed from the sheer exertion of it all but he was calming.

Why?

He couldn't put a finger on it, a new throbbing ache pulsed out from his head and for a moment a single ever-so-slightly sickly yellow eye focused on a certain spot on the one way mirror, but only for a moment.

What was that?

 

[J3C0]

“I do not like repeating myself Doctor.” Mierin said as her hand moved away from the glass.

The hairless little rat of a man scurried up besides her and looked down into the surgical room, peering at the creature strapped to the table he seemed to be thinking of something for a moment, before finally nodding to himself. Reaching out the doctor knocked lightly on the window, calling the attention of the surgeons within. Each one of them looked at the source of the noise, and then immediately and Mierin.

A few took involuntary steps back, though most held the gaze of her unsettlingly yellow eyes. The Doctor wordlessly communicated with the head surgeon, and then looked up towards Mierin.

“He is a Chistori My Lady. An alien.”

Mierin looked down at the doctor, clearly unsatisfied with the answer.

“He has something wrong with him, a parasite attached to his brain that alters the chemicals in his brain.”

Now that had interested her. The Purebloods Eyebrows rose as if suddenly startled, though they quickly lowered themselves as she began to think. Her lips pursed, and she wondered for a few seconds before issuing a command. “Do not touch him.”

Those within the surgical room nodded, understanding that there would be punishments if they disobeyed.

“Show me.” She told the rat.

 

[Mantorok]

Apart from being the centrepiece of the room Mantorok was by and large suddenly ignored by the white coats. He'd already heard the word that needed to be heard. It. That's what they called him, it. Although the implications of that were largely lost on the Chistori, he assumed that he was being held prisoner, that the table was here for interrogation purposes more than anything, find out who was smashing up their labs and why. Mask? Hide the identities. Easy.

But wrong.

He wasn't a prisoner. Nor was he a patient. No, unbeknownst to Mantorork he was a test subject. A piece of meat to be sliced and diced, for progress. For profit.

The white coats were given their orders, their mouths hiding their frowns as their surgical hopes were soundly dashed. There was even a very cautious and quiet murmur. “What a crock of poodoo.” Brave.

Still impeccably calm, the Chistori's eyes darted around the room, trying to peg their intentions, look for an opportunity to escape, even. “LET ME GO,” he demanded, voice a loud imposing rumble. Despite being strangely sedate he knew that this room was bad news.

 

[J3C0]

“The parasite seems to have eaten its way into his mind, simply burrowing itself in place and feeding off of the chemicals there, and also producing more...”

The Doctor went on for quite some time, and Mierin listened while sagely nodding along to his words. Every so often she smiled slightly, her lips turning up and her eyes becoming alight. The words she most enjoyed hearing were “aggression” “rage” and unbridled “hatred”. Those made her smile the most, and by the time the rat doctor had finished speaking Mierin was all smiles.

“Let him go.” Mierin commanded with a smirk.

“Wha- Ma'am no we ca-”

“I stated earlier, Doctor. I do not like repeating myself.” Cold yellow eyes stared into the heart of him “I will repeat myself no more.”

The rat stuttered for a moment, but then simply nodded. He rushed off to go tell the surgical team the horrible news, and Mierin turned to her new plaything. The smile across her face spread slightly, and slowly she wandered around the pane of glass that was keeping them apart. Surgeons and doctors left the room that held Mantorok, and slowly as they filed out one by one Mierin entered.

 

[Mantorok]

What a pity, I was so sure that they'd give in to his demands. Not.

Every single white coat in the room remained still, as if they were waiting for something, for what he did not know. The Chistori wasn't really the authority on what was going on at the moment. Captain Clueless, just laying on the slab waiting for, waiting for what? I already told you, he doesn't know.

Another coat scurried through, this one without a mask, his expression one of utter dismay. There were murmurs of discontent.

“What?”

“No! We ca-”

“DAMN IT!”

That last one was less of a murmur.

Without undoing his restraints the disgruntled team departed for the room, swapping out with a peculiar red woman who sauntered in with a smile upon her face. Great. Another mystery for Mantorok. Would the saurian ever have a clue? Maybe, but likely not.

“WHO ARE YOU?” he demanded in his typical growl, “WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

 

[J3C0]

“You have been granted your freedom Mantorok.” Mierins voice rang within the room. It projected all around the both of them, seemingly coming from everywhere, and nowhere. The sound of her voice echoed, resounding again and again within the small medical room.

The Pureblood stepped closer to him, her palm resting just over his chest.

The Darkside of the force flooded around her, an aura of pain and agony falling about her in intricate dances of red and black. It spiraled around her, dashing and swinging around her arm until it gathered within her palm. The seeping red mist seemed to dance around, lowering itself like a tornado making land fall until it was only inches above the Chistori. “If you truly wish it.”

“I can grant you freedom. I can grant you power. I can grant you the strength to never be a prisoner again.” She paused, pale yellow eyes staring into him “If you wish it.”

 

[Mantorok]

Freedom.

Well that was easy, it seemed that all you had to do was ask.

Or, alternatively just get a sinister red woman very interested in you. What do you mean how do you do that? I don't know, just be a sentient dinosaur with a parasitic worm that is slowly taking control over your brain. What? Why are you looking at me like that?

His headache began to grow, pulsing in tandem with the woman's ominous aura. Mantorok was aware of the Sith, of course he was, he lived on Coruscant but he had never actively interacted with them. Always a first time for everything, even in these peculiar circumstances, especially in these peculiar circumstances.

Despite the throbbing headache there was something entrancing about woman, the way her voice bounced around the room made her seem omnipotent. There was a sense of wonder about her, and darkness. Not that the saurian was afraid, no, intrigued, filled with a desire and not a desire of that nature. He's no spice rack.

Power. Strength. From thug, to mercenary, to beyond even that.

“I WISH IT," Mantorok replied, traces of desire lacing his loud rumbles.

But that still left questions unanswered.

“WHAT DID THEY WANT?” he enquired with that guttural voice. The they in questions were the white coats, and it was a curiosity hard to settle.

 

[J3C0]

“So be it.” Again the voice resounded within the medical lab, and suddenly the smoke pulsed.

It touched down against Mantorok's chest, and tore into him. The thundering crackling energy poured into him like a defibrillator, surging through his body and tearing at his muscles, veins, and everything else. It was like a jumpstart for the force potential that he now carried within him, a push off the ledge to force him into utilizing the gift of the darkside he had been given, and also to feed the parasite the emotions it so craved.

Mierin began to push the creature to utilize the force, to press the parasite into feeding Mantoroks power, to make him crave more and more.

She took a single long step back as the energy she had pressed into Mantorok began to rummage and scrape through him, pushing its way into his body and tearing at him from the inside out.

 

[Mantorok]

Mantorok grew stiff for a moment as her malevolence seemingly burst into his being. Thankfully the Chistori was still restrained, as his stillness did not last for very long.

Agony coursed through his very veins, sending him into screeching convulsions, claws growing stiff and gnarled as the saurian roared in response to her gift. Was this what power felt like? Burning torment? Apparently so. Those beady yellowing eyes began to roll into the back of his head.

It was as if he had spent his entire life congested, as if the reptile had lived all these years not knowing how to breathe properly, oh sure, he received the oxygen required to live but it never felt this good, true sensation, like unlocking a new sense, but in this state of complete overstimulation he couldn't appreciate this factor.

There were visions, hundreds if not thousands of images flickering past beyond the speed of light. They filled him with dread, revulsion, desire, hunger, awe, emotions he never knew existed within him surged and erupted all at once. Each picture flashed by in his head, all dark, all incomprehensible, accompanied by ear-drum rupturing shrieks and manic buzzing. He didn't understand, he wasn't supposed to understand.

Not yet.

Then just as suddenly as it had begun it all came to a close. Leaving Mantorok laying there, eyes slowly rolling back into the correct position. He felt like he should have been smouldering, but it felt good, it felt like power, as if he had been reborn and that was only the tip of the iceberg. This was just the beginning.

“RAAAAGH!!! WHAT! DID YOU DO!?”

 

[J3C0]

“I gave you the strength to be free.” Mierin said simply as she stood waiting for him.

The force could break the bonds now. There was no need for her to do so, no need for her to unstrap him and free him. He could do it on his own. In truth the potential had been within him the entire time, the ability to use the force was nothing something simply given. Mierin had simply...kickstarted his learning process, given him a tiny portion of her own strength in order to force him into using his own.

Whether that power was generated by him, or the parasite, she did not know. Yet she did know he was strong, and that strength would only grow as he learned more about the force.

“Set yourself free.” She demanded of him “Or are you so willing to remain a slave?”

She goaded him, taunted him, pressed him into releasing more of his anger. It would feed him, make him stronger. The bindings would break loose, both mentally and physically. Mantorok would break free of himself, and Darth Mierin would have a new apprentice.

 

[Mantorok]

The creature's chest heaved as he still recovered from the bout with madness and horror that had just been inflicted upon him, snout blowing furious gusts as he did so.

The headache had faded, as it had been the stopper in his potential this entire time. Of course he wasn't aware of what was actually inside of his head, the real root of the problem, the headache. Oh no, to him this was all her handiwork. Her horrifying, burning handiwork. My chains are broken. The Force shall set me free.

A pity Mantorok was unaware of the Code of the Sith, that last part was rather apt.

He snarled at her. He was not a slave, the very notion of it lashed his pride and he reacted. There was a rush, adrenaline, power, so raw, so untamed but it was more than that. A surge of testosterone, adrenaline, getting the heart pumping the blood flowing. It felt positively primeval.

A roar, sending another wave of spittle spraying across the room.

His arms fought, if veins could have protruded through a scaly hide then they might have just been poppin' right then. He pushed, the metal digging into his hide as the bolts began to groan with the strain of freak strength, Force embued. He felt powerful, invincible even. The restraints on his right wrist gave in first, finally giving in and snapping off with another brutal roar.

“I AM NOT!” Mantorok bellowed as the left restraint soon followed.

Both hands then reached for the durasteel binding that went across his head, and with two free hands tearing at it the bond stood no chance. The Chistori wrenched it off with a satisfying snap letting him sit up on the table with a victorious roar, “A SLAVE!”

Leaning forward he then proceeded to give the same treatment to the bonds around his legs, which again with free hands powered by mass-produced hormones and the fury of the Force had no chance.

 

[J3C0]

Mierins face never changed, her impassive apathetic glare looked down as the Chistori freed himself form his bonds. Only when he claimed that he was not a slave did she allow a smile to tug at her lips. Only when he claimed that he was free, did she truly feel a buzzing of amusement in the back of her mind.

How wrong he was.

He would be a slave for all time. He would be beholden to so many things. The Call of the Darkside, the word of the Dark Lord, the parasite within his head. Mantorok was far from free, and in the breaking of his bonds, he had only succeeded in wrapping more chain around himself.

Mierin wanted to laugh.

 

[Mantorok]

From off the table the Chistori moved, getting back onto his feet so he could stand at full height, at his most imposing.

The urge to turn and destroy the entire facility boiled and bubbled within his chest. He was ablaze with strength and rage, he felt invincible like he had transcended beyond mortal realms of power. Hilarious given that these were his first baby steps out into the galaxy, this was just a taster, just a tea spoon.

His claws gripped the side of the operating table, and he began to lift. Do you even lift, bro? Well yes, right now actually. Like his bindings before them the bolts that kept the table secured to the floor began to strain against his freak strength. Goodness me, you've lit the fuse now.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!!”

With the thundering roar the table gave up, metal actively giving up and bowing to his strength and no longer attached to the floor the Chistori successfully flipped the table. Talk about style. However he knew, he knew that he hadn't even been this powerful.

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME?”

 

[J3C0]

“You were chosen.” Mierin said in stark contrast to his raging screams. Her voice remained impassive and calm, the eye of the storm rather than the storm of itself. “The Dark Lord has seeded you with his touch.”

The lies began. The Dark Lord did not inherently make anyone powerful in the force. He did not create life and choose who would become strong and who would remain weak. He simply manipulated and changed, he simply reverted and destroyed. The Dark Lord was not an agent of creation, but of destruction. This creature had the potential for the force, or perhaps the thing inside his head had made it be so, but the Dark Lord had nothing to do with it.

Mierin however saw an opportunity to manipulate, to taint this monsters thoughts and bend them to her own will. “He has chosen you to be a vassal for the Darkside as none other has been before.”

Her words began to flow about the room, the force flowing with them like an intricate dance. She began to work the influences of the mind, bending and shifting and hopefully driving Mantorok to her will.

 

[Mantorok]

Chosen?

He rounded upon the woman, using that physicality to appear an intimidating sight although he didn't phase the woman at all. I suppose when you're an all powerful Sith Lord the posturing of large brutish creatures wouldn't strike much fear, not when you could end them with a touch of the only lightning, or a good old fashioned choke.

Looking down upon the red woman, short, hard breaths still erupted from his snout, he was still full of that adrenaline, that testosterone. A part of him wanted to tear her into pieces with his bear hands, but the other part had been filled with a curiosity. He had been chosen, by the Dark Lord, such a grand fate for a creature that had woken up that morning as a mere mercenary.

Talk about a fate upgrade.

“VERY WELL.”

However there was something else, unknowingly to Mantorok he was being tagged teamed by the Sith and the worm, who were seemingly working in tandem, although their motives were not one in the same. Serotonin. Dopamine. Things that the Chistori likely couldn't even spell were released along side her influences. It filled him with a desire.

A desire that compelled him down onto one knee and no, he wasn't proposing.

“SHOW ME.”