Private Infected Logic

[Darth Virelia]

"Killer Instincts."

Tags - Kyber

Kalinda turned in the viewport like a cauterized wound—city-lights veiled under storm-smog and emergency beacons, a world that had learned to whisper because screaming fed the plague. The shuttle descended through quarantine corridors and ion-scrub arcs, and when its ramp sighed open, Virelia stepped into a wind that tasted faintly of disinfectant and metal. Her armor drank the streetlamps and gave back only a disciplined glow: six violet facets alive behind a mirror-black mask; a heart-node pulsing serenely at her sternum; the split cape trailing a quiet comet-tail of crimson shadow as she moved.

Kalinda's relief line sat a block behind her—stacked duracrete, UV emitters, field medics working with the slow intensity of people who knew the clock was their enemy. Ahead, the "gray belt" began: half-evacuated towers, sealed tram tunnels, and the dull throb of containment sirens set to a frequency meant to rattle the instincts of anything that loved the dark. It made her smile behind the mask.

She had always appreciated the rakghoul: hunger given architecture. They did not pretend. They corrupted with purpose, replicated with a mathematician's patience, turned mercy into arithmetic. Honest creatures. If the galaxy insisted on contagion, why not claim authorship? She imagined lattices of obedience carved into the disease—choral commands braided through blood and bile until the plague knelt. Not that day. But soon.

The rumors said the killer stalked there—an "advanced robot," as if sophistication were a costume one could put on. Bodies recovered on the tram line showed filigreed incisions, thermal scoring clean as a surgeon's oath, power-cells harvested with ritual precision. Humans said droid and meant machine. She said droid and meant will without appetite—an ache she could correct.

She crossed an avenue littered with abandoned med-caskets and a toppled holo-kiosk stuttering a public health mantra. The air shivered. A sewer grate buckled; nails-of-bone raked the lip. Three rakghouls uncoiled from the darkness in a steam of breath and rot—grey hides scored with old cautery, eyes like boiled resin. They fanned to flank, a learned geometry. Virelia's cape settled. Her head tilted; the tiny violet runes across her breastplate breathed and dimmed.

"Beautiful," she murmured, as if admiring musicians tuning.

The Force unspooled from her like a silk leash.. A suggestion that hierarchy was comfort, that hunger tasted better when poured into a chalice. One ghoul stalled, head cocking with a child's confusion. Another hissed and crept close enough to smell her—ozone, cold metal, something like rain in old cathedrals. She let her taloned glove trace the air near its face, a touch that never touched. The pack's tension wired… loosened. Not obedience. Not yet. But the mind found the groove she offered.

"Later," she told them, soft as liturgy. "I'll give you a war to eat."

The last known location waited beneath them: a shuttered maglev depot, platforms drowned in emergency amber, rails humming with a residual ghost of power. She descended into the throat of it, the city's breath whistling through broken louvers. Footfalls echoed. Something watched.

"Assassin," Virelia said, voice smooth, amused. "You've made a mess tidy enough to impress me. Come out and be courted."

 

[Kyber]

Decades ago Kyber had been tasked to clean up a problem he himself caused on Kalinda by the incarnation of the Confederacy of Independent Systems ran by Darth Metus. He had released Rakghouls onto the planet originally to take out a few powerful gangs only for it to spread far quicker than anticipated. The containment effort was of course done sluggishly as Kyber had grown fond of the pests he had made and would always find some excuse to explain why he had not finished the job. Since the dissolution of the CIS he no longer needed to ensure the Rakghouls had to stay in one area not that he could afford to do such a thing without the support of the CIS.

Now days he would focus most of his attention to the study of both the art of controlling Rakghouls and the Stygian Arts, Such an endeavour of course requires fresh material and Kyber was very much a fan of hunting. Checking the network of cameras still functioning he would look for his next prey only to spot a far more dangerous predator. Effortlessly she had the respect of a pack of ghouls with but a finger something Kyber could not do without the use of machines.

It seemed today he was the prey for this violet spider was entering his den. Once upon a time Kyber was a brave and heroic soul willing to face any threat but that was long ago and now what remained was a coward he hid in the shadows striking without a sense of honour. Instead of Kyber appearing before who ever this dark lady was a Rakghoul covered in crude cybernetics that jutted out of its body would greet her. Its throat replaced with some sort of speaker.

From the shadows ensuring his cloaking device was activated Kyber spoke through the wretched creature a gargled combination of the creatures own voice and the distorted sound of a poorly maintained radio. "And who is The One that has decided to grace The One known as ths Viceroy of Kalinda with their presence"

As the creature spoke Kyber would slowly use the force to move a saber unignited behind his visitor, Resisting the urge to go for the kill away at least not before he knew what she wanted from him.

Darth Virelia​

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Killer Instincts."

Tags - Kyber

The cybernetically-scarred rakghoul shambled into the depot like a parody of her own ambitions—metal grafted to hunger, a patchwork horror, speaker crackling where a throat once had been. Virelia did not flinch. The violet facets of her mask swept over it, drinking in the grotesque form the way an aesthete might appraise a statue. When it spoke, a gurgled static married to guttural growl, she tilted her head, cape whispering as it settled.

Viceroy of Kalinda.

Her taloned glove rose, not to ward it off but to trace the air before the speaker-jaw, as if stroking the phantom of a face.

"A title claimed through infestation." Her voice was low, rich, a current of silk wrapped around steel. "How fitting. You wear authority like I wear perfume—through saturation. This world reeks of your indulgence, and I admit… I find it intoxicating."

She paced a slow half-circle around the cyber-ghoul, every step measured, her cape's crimson underside licking the floor in brief flashes. Her gaze did not need to search for the droid. She knew he lingered somewhere beyond the light, his cowardice hidden behind technology. He watched. He listened. And that gave her all the leverage she required.

"You have dabbled, I see. A child's first sip of fire. Machines fused to instinct, leash welded to throat. Clever… crude. You wished to master the ghouls, and yet they master you, don't they? You cannot help but adore them, because they make mockery of walls, law, and decency. They corrupt as I do. But unlike you—" she paused, turning her mask so the insect-eyes glowed directly into the ghoul's sockets, "—I have no need of toys to command reverence."

Her words licked the air with a licentious cadence, each syllable shaped not just for the droid's ears but for the ghoul itself, as though even monsters deserved seduction. She extended her hand, claws gleaming faintly in the emergency light. The ghoul shuddered, caught between implanted command and the invisible lure of her presence.

"You watch me, don't you? Hiding, cloaked, blade trembling to be drawn. How deliciously pitiful. Once, perhaps, you were brave. Now you haunt your own den like a rat who knows the trap has already sprung."

 

[Kyber]

Kyber's metal hand twitched as he tried to control his instinct to strike this trespasser down. Her deconstruction of his character pierced his soul reminding him of how far he has gone from his old glory days, something he needed no reminder of, but what hurt the most was that he understood what position he was in now, he understood he was not in control of this situation. Oh it truly vexed him to be on the other side of this situation.

Kyber deactivated his cloaking device allowing Darth Virelia to see him if she didn't already know his location. "What does That One want" Kyber stated with a slight disdain in his voice no longer speaking through the ghoul. "Be sure it is worth it, Most of Those Ones who see This One's face cease to enjoy it for long" with a flick of his finger the saber that was floating behind Virelia ignited.

One part of Kyber hoped she had came to him with some sort of purpose, an excuse to exist once again while another part wanted to kill her right now. Make this lady regret ever thinking she could understand him so easily even if she was mostly correct. What would she truly know of one who lived in glory fighting against the horde of evil only to be betrayed and forced to embrace darkness and solitude to survive thus giving up on everything they once held dear.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Killer Instincts."

Tags - Kyber

The violet facets of Virelia's mask shimmered as Kyber emerged, uncloaked at last, his metal hand twitching with the nervous reflex of a predator who no longer trusted his fangs. The hum of the saber igniting behind her painted the depot in crimson, its heat kissing the edges of her cape. She did not turn.

Instead, she laughed—a low, sultry ripple that slid through the air and wrapped around him like perfume.

"So there is a man beneath the myth of infestation." Her voice was velvet laced with venom. "And still he hides behind borrowed grandeur—That One, This One, the language of a coward who cannot bear to name himself." She pivoted slowly, deliberately, until her mask's six glowing eyes found his. "You fear your own face more than you think I should."

The saber remained humming, poised behind her heart-node. She arched slightly, shoulders rolling back, the motion deliberately exposing the crystalline core at her sternum. Daring him. Tempting him.

"Strike, if you must. Let's see if that blade severs me—or severs the last shreds of dignity you pretend to keep. Perhaps you crave that release. Perhaps you ache for someone to prove you are still dangerous." Her taloned glove gestured toward him like an invitation to dance. "But I offer something far more intoxicating than a duel destined to humiliate you."

Her tone softened, a conspirator's murmur. "You want purpose, Kyber. You want your plague to be more than an accident of history. I can give you that. Together we can turn corruption into dominion. The galaxy would not whisper of Kalinda's coward—but of the Viceroy who unleashed an army no wall can contain."

The violet glow of her mask pulsed. "So—will you grasp at survival, or submit to inevitability?"

 

[Kyber]

Her laugh stung at Kyber, he was once a killing machine and in all rights still one and yet here she stood mocking him. What was he to do to against this being, her words strangling him with fear. That was until she said something so outlandish that Kyber could barely contain his chuckling. The implication that Kyber spoke the way he did due to his trauma or some sort of fear was too funny to him that it broke the spell of fear that was cast upon him the moment Virelia entered his lab. She had been pretty much accurate on every other aspect of Kyber but either she hasn't met a shard before or does not know that speaking words is not a thing that comes naturally to them considering without machine bodies they are just small crystals without a mouth, ears or even eyes.

That single sentence brought Kyber's mind back to reality and he no longer saw an enigmatic being but now just another Sith Lord or similar being who was potentially in over their heads. Finally Kyber was able to think clearly yet he still understood she had the advantage in this conversation still and despite her potential youth she was most likely far more powerful in the force than him as already shown by her influence over the rakghouls.

Kyber called his saber to him the blade deactivating just before touching Virelia. No longer did he feel like a small prey animal trapped in a corner. Kyber would fix up his posture to at least look a bit more civilised before waving his rakghoul cyborg abomination away "That One offers a lot. This One assumes the price is but simple classic servitude" Kyber would take a look around at his rundown lab "This One has been wasting talent here causing a stagnation in research. A new master to one day betray is not a bad offer"

Serving the inevitable did sound like some fun and if she fails like every other Dark Lord that wanted to control the galaxy hopefully he could learn something along the journey. "That One claims This One hides from This Ones name but has yet to give This One, That Ones name"

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Killer Instincts."

Tags - Kyber

The saber winked dark, and Virelia's laughter eased into something lower, more intimate, as though they were no longer adversaries but conspirators sharing a secret. Her mask's facets glimmered in violet arcs as she stepped toward him, slow as a tide, cape licking the broken floor.

"Ah," she purred, "a shard. That explains the fractured speech. Not trauma, then—but geometry given voice. How exquisite." Her talons traced an idle circle in the air between them, as though sketching the lattice of a crystal. "You are no coward, you are a jewel that cut itself free from the setting—and has since been dulled by dust and neglect."

She moved closer, her presence coiling around him, not pressing, not rushing—simply inevitable. "Servitude?" She tilted her head, a predator's amusement warming her words. "You mistake me. I do not want another pawn to polish my boots. I want a partner in contagion. You know how to birth hunger. I know how to give it hierarchy. Together, we will not serve—we will rewrite."

Her gaze flicked toward the shuffling ghoul as it lumbered away. "That was clever but crude. I could show you how to make them sing." She leaned in, voice soft as a lover's whisper, yet cutting with precision. "And I could show you how to make the galaxy listen."

Straightening, she let her hand hover above her crystalline sternum-node, violet light pulsing in rhythm with her words. "As for my name… names are masks. But since you ask: I am Darth Virelia. Remember it, savor it. For those who do not become part of my chorus often choke on it as their last word."

The mask inclined, mock-courtly. "Now. Shall we begin composing?"