Private Jailbird

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: UNKNOWN PRISON COMPLEX | Direct Tags: Aria Talorien​

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The Tapani campaign had been a brutal affair as many toppling of regimes were throughout history.

The Sith Covenant had swept into the ancient cluster, ripping down noble houses that had been part of the social fabric for generations. They had massacred the nobles, the rich, those with vested interest in the status quo, and then they left anarchy in their wake. In that tide new forces rose up. But not all of the old had been killed. There were those that had managed to flee the sector and then some... who had been captured.

Mercy was receiving a guided tour through the prison complex embedded in the Tapani Cluster. A processing facility that assisted with the reintegration of the old guard into new society. The last thing they wanted to do was put the Old Nobles on the street, so they'd start fomenting ideas of sedition.

Truthfully Mercy didn't know why they didn't just kill them all. But Arris Windrun had made the point that some of them could be useful, one way or the other. So why not. Why not make use of the tools they had? And the Lord of the Covenant couldn't find fault with that sort of logic, so she hadn't put up much of a fight. Just enough to remind Arris that if she really felt strongly about something, she'd have to fight for it.

Then Mercy passed a cell and paused.

"Who is in that one?"

The jailor looked at the slab and checked the datapad.

"Ah, Prisoner #38299. She was an actress, minor nobility. She will be ready for processing soon, but she requires a few more lessons, before we can put her back on the streets." Mercy hummed there and then smiled.

"Open it? I want to talk to her."

The jailor hesitated there, glancing up at Mercy. "My Lord, this is a very sensitive process, any disturbances can cause her psyche to-" He immediately shut up when Mercy's attention shifted to him with a look that brokered little argument. "I... yes, my Lord. Right away." A few moments later Mercy walked into the cell with a comedically small stool, putting it in the middle of the room before sitting down.

Luckily it was made from steel, or she would have landed straight on her face, that would have been less comedic for everyone involved.

"What is your name, darling?"

.

ERASE THE PAST

 

[Aria Talorien]

A SCENE

INT. PRISON CELL

TIME • DAY

♫ OPENING — PHILIP GLASS

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For days, Aria Talorien couldn't remember if it was a nightmare or a film set. Maybe it was both. She weaved out of one and into another. The burning rafters of Talorien Hall gave way to the brutalist structure of the FIV Concordia and then she was being dragged through the dewy, smoking gardens that had populated her childhood, then the polished corridor of the a Virellian palace, all cold marble.

Other times a small, cold cell, a hard cot.

Then time passed and reality resolved, more confusing and worse than the nightmares. Her injuries subsided, leaving a dull ache that might have been fear or tension or hatred or sadness or hunger or nothing at all. The only thing that mattered was what was: a prison facility, the tender mercies of Sith functionaries, bad food, cold showers, and the processing. A prison economy built on undermining and betrayal. Sometimes the Sith came and took prisoners away. Mostly they didn't return. They were processed -- whatever that meant. It was what the prisoners whispered to each other, what the guards threatened them with, the explanation for every empty cell or chair at mealtime.

Aria kept to herself, ate little, said less. She slept badly and followed instructions without commentary, without delay, without giving them a reason to take her, too, even as she watched while, one by one, the prisoners on the block simply disappeared. She didn't please her captors, though, not quite. She had a stubborn attachment to reality, something that didn't allow her to substitute their fiction even to save her skin. But she was not obstinate, not willful, not rude.

When her day came, there was no warning, no sense of foreboding. It was an odd day, to be sure; some big-wig or another was there on an inspection tour. The prisoners were warned. Aria kept her head down, smoothed her red-brown hair over the scar that now raked the side of her face. She was aware, vaguely, of a conversation taking place in the corridor, but she couldn't hear it. She didn't want to hear it. Nothing good came from hearing things, knowing things. But ignorance and good behavior wouldn't save her this time.

The key rattled in the lock and the door opened. Aria looked up briefly, her pulse suddenly hammering in her jugular, painful and sharp. Her dark eyes went wide with fear and she stood, raising her arms as she had been conditioned to do since arriving, hands over her head, gaze lowering automatically. Touch nothing. Say nothing unless spoken to. Don't look them in the eyes.

Don't ever look them in the eyes.

The cadence had been taught to her by Lady Barkash, the aged grande dame she knew by sight and name but had never really met until then, the very first day she had been deposited into the cell. Lady Barkash had been taken three weeks later.

"Aria," she answered the query simply. The actress -- or whatever she was now -- was dying with curiosity to understand who was speaking to her then. A term of endearment was not uncommon, but it was usually accompanied by an obvious sneering disdain, or else some deep malevolence. This seemed -- different. Offensive in its way, to be identified as darling by someone who didn't know her. It felt threatening, yet not in the same way as when a sobriquet was bestowed by one of the anonymous guards who took care of that wing of the prison. "House Talorien."

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STARRING

Mercy • Aria Talorien

 

[Mercy]

Aria Talorien

She stood there and observed the woman as she answered her.

"Aria. House Talorien."

Mercy smiled, but the answer seemed to displease the jailor that had entered the room behind them both. "Why you little piece of shit. Your name is 38299. You don't have another name!" He stomped past Mercy, baton at a ready, to smash it over the prisoner's face and add another scar to the repertoire.

But before the baton could connect with the face of the prisoner, the movement was arrested mid-air.

The reason for it became clear soon enough. Mercy had grabbed the electrified baton, even as it shocked her, she was holding onto it to prevent it from breaking Aria's face in half.

"No, that's quite alright, she was simply answering my question."

The jailor knew better than to protest, lowering the baton, while sending a nasty glance at the prisoner. "Ma'am, she is clearly not ready yet. This one is stubborn. We get flashes from her, but we need to work her mind over much more before she is ready for public life again." Mercy hummed as she considered that, dusting her hands off, seemingly uncaring about the blackened flesh the baton had left her with.

"What do you think, Aria of House Talorien?"

That seemed to make the jailor cringe again, but Mercy was only amused by it.

"Are you in need of many more lessons?" A glance to the jailor again. "Painful, those lessons, I take it?"

The jailor shrugged.

"We use standard conditioning equipment, ma'am. When that doesn't work, we resort to the baton, to soften up their minds. We have a hundred percent success rate." He was clearly proud of that number. Mercy didn't point out that they had that sort of success rate, because whenever someone didn't break... they'd be killed.

A dead body couldn't be seen as a failure.

Her golden eyes went back to Aria, waiting expectingly for her response.

 

[Aria Talorien]

A SCENE

INT. PRISON CELL

TIME • DAY

♫ OPENING — PHILIP GLASS

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Aria Talorien didn't flinch. It wasn't anything so foolhardy and pointless as bravery. It was simply resignation. She understood her mistake the moment the forbidden words had tumbled from her lips, and could almost feel the baton before it landed. She sensed where the bruise would land, how it would layer with the others the overzealous guards had dished out over the last weeks or months.

There was no shortage of supply. They always found a way, a reason, an excuse. Her alabaster flesh was a kaleidoscope of hideous hues -- brown, the oldest, then yellow, grey-green, purple-blue. The newest marks were vivid red.

But it didn't land. It didn't come. Aria dared not raise her eyes to look, her eyes fixed so hard on the big woman's boots that they ached.

"I don't think," Aria answered, so quick it was almost panting. "I don't, I don't think. I -- I am 38299. Apologies."

She resisted the urge to throw herself to the floor. No, begging didn't work on this one. The overnight guard liked it, liked to see a noble on her knees begging for mercy. The daytime guard liked to make them scream. "I don't know what I need, my lord, it is not my place to have an opinion. Please." Please, what? Please, don't ask me anything. Please, don't make me give them a reason to hurt me.

Please, kill me before you leave this place, for this guard will never give me a moment's peace again.

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STARRING

Mercy • Aria Talorien

 

[Mercy]

Aria Talorien

Eyebrows raised up at the sheer display of subjugation and submission.

It impressed her.

Truly this place knew how to break the prisoners that were being processed, before being assigned back into society. But there had been something about Aria before the reminder. Still some sort of spark left that hadn't been completely crushed. Which was a sign of strength if Mercy ever saw any. She had been here from the start, but somehow a portion of the spark still remained.

"Alright, this one will come with me." Mercy declared casually as she reached out to pat Aria on the head. "What do you say, Aria Talorien, would you like to leave this nasty place behind?"

The jailor wanted to protest.

Mercy knew it, because his head turned into the color of a tomato and he was biting his tongue something fierce.

"Careful, if you bite through your tongue, nobody will be able to hear you choke on your blood." She said happily, it hadn't been a threat, more of a casual warning.

But even a warning was a threat when it was delivered by someone like her.

"Aria, darling, come. Take my hand and we will walk right out."

In a way it was its own test.

Could Aria snap out of it and grab hold of her freedom? Or would she be so terrified she'd let it go past her?

 

[Aria Talorien]

A SCENE

INT. PRISON CELL

TIME • DAY

♫ OPENING — PHILIP GLASS

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Trap.

It started as a whisper in the back of her mind. A whisper of warning. It became a drum beat, an indignant chant that recognized what the large woman had to be trying to do. Break her. Make her say yes. Make her say anything. To give them a reason.

Trap. Trap.

"What do you say, Aria Talorien, would you like to leave this place behind?"

Trap. Trap. Trap.

"Aria, darling, come."

Trap! Trap! Trap! Trap! Trap!

"Take my hand and we will walk right out."

Trap! Trap! Trap! TRAP! TRAP! TRAP! TRAP!

The warning whisper had become a chant, and the chant now became an alarm klaxon, like the blaring, cutting, piercing blare of the fire alarms her home burned around her. And then the words became that blaring alarm, but the message remained clear. It was a trap. It was a trap. Mercy was trying to get her.

She didn't look up, not fully. Aria's eyes went to Mercy's hand and no further. She was trying to get Aria -- no, not Aria, 38299. Aria Talorien was dead, because that's what the warden wanted her to be. Mercy was trying to get her. But why? To kill her? The warden would do that if given half a chance. In fact she was quite certain he'd have done it already if he was allowed.

But -- allowed by whom? Her eyes flickered up to Mercy's face.

It's a trap. It's a trap. It's a trap.

Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was simply giving up. Death sounded better than continued prolonged torture and then death, after all. Aria ignored the pulsing, piercing, screaming warning that it was a trap and lifted her hand, placing it tremulously in Mercy's own palm. Maybe she was signing her own death warrant. Maybe she as ending her own suffering.

Maybe these were one in the same.

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STARRING

Mercy • Aria Talorien

 

[Mercy]

Aria Talorien

Maybe not so broken after all.

She drew her up, as gently as could be, and wrapped her golden arm around Aria's shoulders.

Then they walked.

The rest of the tour was postponed for another day. But they walked, first out of the cell, then out of the corridor and then finally out of the facility. Each exit another layer of pain. Mercy hadn't done it because she had suddenly found mercy in herself. Aria was part of a noble fabric that had dominated Tapani for generations.

It had been correct to tear them down and make them suffer.

"Aria Talorien..." She murmured as they walked towards her ship. "How does it feel, walking to your freedom?" Or was it still a nightmare to the former noble woman?

Did she think it was an elaborate joke?

That once they stepped into the shuttle, the warden would be waiting there with a shit-eating grin and an expression of: Oi, you thought you were out, but guess what?

Mercy couldn't know, while she could influence people vaguely with her arm, she couldn't read their minds.

Thankfully.

 

[Aria Talorien]

A SCENE

INT. SHUTTLE

THEN

♫ OPENING — PHILIP GLASS

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Aria shuddered when the woman's arm circled her shoulder.

She didn't know why. She just felt something -- uncanny -- about it. About the woman, really. Her scale was monstrous, particularly for someone whose voice was outwardly... soft wasn't the word. Kind, maybe. Solicitous, perhaps. Yet somehow predatory. She talked the way she imagined the evil fox might in a cartoon, where she was pretending to be a friend while leading an unsuspecting young lady down the garden path to hell.

That was exactly what this felt like.

"What do you want from me?" she asked instead of answering. Because it was necessary to understand what was expected. Her experience with the Sith so far was that they asked questions, but were unhappy when they were given the answer. Oftentimes they wanted an answer that wasn't the truth. To test, she suspected, the effectiveness of their torture and gaslighting. "In here they tell you what they want you to say." She paused a moment and clasped her hands together before her. "In... a way."

Torture, beating, gaslighting, whatnot. The usual.

Aria asked because she didn't want to answer that she doubted whether she was walking to her freedom at all, but didn't want a busted lip for her trouble. So, was the trick to tell the truth or to lie?

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STARRING

Mercy • Aria Talorien

 

[Mercy]

Aria Talorien

The poor soul.

If Mercy had any capability for pity and concern, then she would have felt it right here, in this moment. With this woman who was the result of the policies that they had instituted after the Tapani Genocide. Because what had Aria really done to deserve any of it? What had any of them? The Tapani Houses were simply part of an institution that had been cycling for generations.

One after another.

Until someone came along and broke the wheel.

Shattered it into pieces.

Then picked up the pieces and threw them into a woodchipper. And here out came Aria, one remnant of a piece out of a woodchipper, with all the consequences that came with that.

"The truth, my dear... I want to hear the truth from you. At all times." Mercy responded, sotto, and supportive. "I have saved you from that nightmare, because you have a bit of a spark in you, even after all this time. That interests me." She squeezed her shoulders gently. "As long as you keep that spark alive, you will remain interesting to me."

And interest... was what would keep Aria safe and away from that prison.

That part, however, was unspoken.

"Can you do that for me?"