Private Kings of Medicine

[Kiber Dorn]

He had in fact, not heard the legends, which made the existence of such a creature all the more horrifying. Some people had different priorities beyond wild space folklore, in this case, rampant unchecked hedonism. His thoughts confined to the next slice of ecstasy, any prior education having faded with time and substance abuse.

Didn't matter, it felt like Dorn was about to find out more than he ever wanted to know about Starweirds regardless. Although his fellow prisoner was about to have a far more personal experience.

The Sith could spout all he wanted about not being cruel, but when you were hauling about unwilling test subjects and keeping strange creatures trapped in cages there wasn't much of a leg to stand on. Not that Kiber spoke out on that matter, his horrified features firmly locked onto the man being shoved into the airlock.

The vagrant junkie wasn't quite sure what was occurring in that moment, terror he gathered bu-

“KARKING HELL!”

Ripped him to pieces like it was nothing, the very sight of the brutality gave Kiber cause to flinch, his head retreating into his neck. It was fethed up! This was mad scientist sort of shet that you only saw in holovids!

And this guy wanted to splice this thing with a Force-sensitive?

Was it with him?

“That th-thing...! What the ka- WHAT THE KARK, MAN?! Nah nah, I want outta here! Getmeout. I duh-don't even wanna look at th- FETH!”

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Several of the researchers were visibly startled by Dorn's horrified scream, with Doctor D'vueg giving him a stern gaze that would have seemed almost grandmotherly if she wasn't examining sensor data gathered through the brutal sacrifice of an unwilling test subject.

Shaking his head at the man's ranting, Adrian let him talk until he was done - it seemed only polite - then calmy replied. "You really don't live up to the Dorn name, you know, but I'm sure it's not the first time you've heard that." Waving his hands at the carnage with something approaching indifference, he looked at Dorn as if he was an idiot - which he quite possibly was.

"That man was an enemy of the Sith Empire. At best, he would have been executed, at worst he would have been squeezed of all he was worth by some twisted mine foreman before keeling over. I gave him a quick death and advanced the sciences at the same time, is that so unreasonable?"

Ah, but the man did not need to understand. He didn't need his cooperation, just his body. "Oh, no matter, discussing the intricacies of precausal utilitarianism with you is like explaining psychoreactive metaenergetics to a ferret." Pausing, he shrugged. "Yes, I do intend to, ah, enhance you using the specimen in that cage, and no, that won't involve direct contact. Consider yourself fortunate, for you might be the first subject to survive!"

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Mercifully, there were greater concerns rampaging through Dorn's mind than the insults slung out by the evidently demented Sith scientist. It was somewhat difficult to care about familial status or whether or not he was an idiot when the man had just witnessed the decimation of another being and the implication that it held for his own life.

It didn't matter how the Triumvir justified such inhumane practises, it did nothing to soften the horror within Kiber's core. He might as well have been speaking in another language, for it wasn't the words that the man in the lab coat said that made it so monstrous. It was the way in which he said them.

So calm. So polite. So conversationally.

As if an entire being of individual thoughts and dreams hadn't just been torn to shreds before them all. Such blatant disregard for life and it was that same disregard that currently held Kiber's own fate in its callous hands.

“...n-no...”

He felt sick and his gangly legs buckled, leaving his meagre frame to be held up by his heavily-armed escort. Kiber Dorn didn't want to be enhanced, spliced or whatever avoidant term they would use in the place of experimentation. That thing in there was a hideous, feral monstrosity and there was no part of it that he wanted in him.

He was a man.

“P-please. Not this. Not this! I'll do anything else! Anything you want me to do! S-suh-say it, I'll do it! I don't....I wanna be...I wanna be me, man!”

Not a man with a lot of dignity, but a man nonetheless.

 

[AMCO]

The researchers did their best to ignore the man falling apart in their midst and it was impossible to tell what the Legionnaires thought, beneath their beskar helmets, but they were too well trained to be swayed by the pleadings of this waste of oxygen.

Doing his best to ignore the undue interest Cara was paying to the man as she all but inched closer, sipping his horror like it was a fine vintage, Adrian shook his head once, the dismissal evident. "What part of no valuable skillset did you fail to grasp? You are an enemy of the Sith, you dared to strike me, me, and yet all you can offer is, what? Roughing up fellow addicts? Telling me which type of spice best fries a brain?"

Shaking his head again, he buried the sliver of empathy, for the man was far, far too valuable to simply let go. It was fethed up that he was suffering for the crimes of his family, but such was life - he wasn't about to risk the political inconvenience of letting go a wanted man over someone he didn't even like, someone who would probably head straight to the nearest spice dealer to forget everything he had seen.

"Testing chamber Aurek Seven, please. Oh, and Doctor D'vueg? Have the Starweird samples sent over. The five-eights, yes."

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

“Ah-ah, no nonono! I-I can be use...use...useful!”

He didn't exactly strike a convincing figure in that regard, his stammering pleas reeking of nothing more than sheer desperation and his eyes darted from face to face, as if salvation would be waiting in the glimpse of another in this room.

But there was nothing, there was no humanity here.

As his captor spoke the orders of his fate desperation began to peak, a flurry of what-ifs entering Kiber's mind in a brutal but useless slideshow. What if he hadn't punched him? Would this still be happening? Or would there have been a more agreeable price to pay? What if he had just embraced his cursed potential? Just said yes and swallowed his personal freedom in knowing that it was not the worst price to pay?

Mind still racing.

“I can...can get you stuff!” Kiber blurted out in all of his undignified distress, “I-I know people! R-r-ru-real invisible market type shet! Y-yu-you want weapons? I can...I can...Oh Force...I can get you r-real rare not-for-sale shet you can't buy an-anywhere else! Ex-explosives! Cyberne-netics! Muh-medical supplies! A-anything you want! I-I-I-I'll get it!”

No word of a lie came sputtering from his cracked lips, he did have solid connections to black markets galaxy-wide. Should have come as no surprise given his narcotic disposition. He'd even peddled some of the aforementioned wares before, usually the result of spice-driven philosophical ramblings in shady dens with headstrong freedom fighters.

Kark the system! Kark the man! Kark the Sith!

The Triumvir didn't need to know that detail, however.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Sighing with annoyance, Adrian was about to dismiss Kiber's newest nonsense when Cara shook her head. The truth, then. Narrowing his eyes, he considered the prospect - he had no need to go to the black market for weaponry, could simply requisition it from the Legion or use his pull with the bureaucracy to acquire an import permit, no matter how dubious the product...

... but he was also an Inquisitor, and the suggestion of high-end explosives in the hand of rogues was one he could not but pursue.

"Explosives? Weaponry, I take it, and the rare kind? Interesting. Elaborate, please."

There was nothing within his voice that carried ill-intent, but unless Dorn was a total idiot he would realize that he had said too much. Or perhaps he was that desperate. No matter, for if the response was lacking - and it probably would be - the Sith Lord would simply grab ahold of the man's head, tendrils of electricity arcing from his fingers as he callously trawled the man's mind for its secrets.

In the short time since the Kiber had awoken, he had given Adrian exactly zero reasons to consider him anything close to a trustworthy source.

Kiber Dorn

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Elaborate?

What more was there to share? Oh, he knew. Dorn doubted that his captor really gave this much of a shet about black market bombs and dubiously modified arsenals. No, not the what, but the who and Kiber would have sold all his customers out in a spineless second of self-preservation but...

...that would implicate him in the process too.

Now more than ever was not the time to concede that he had more-than-happily sold weaponry intended to be used against the Empire. Even in his open terror Kiber could see that.

“N-nothin' more to elaborate, sir,” came his still-stuttering words, as he attempted to answer in a far more composed manner which difficult when he saw the decimation of his fellow prisoner every time that he blinked, “J-just off...off the market and ha-hard to find goods. I-I can hook you up, no cost, of course. Puh-puh-please jus'....just don't do this to m-me.”

It wasn't a lie, but not nearly the entire truth. Not good enough. Kiber found this out the hard way when the Sith Lord approached, his hands grabbing his head as the spice addict fruitlessly struggled in the grasp of the legionnaires.

He screamed.

Eyes rolled back into his skull as a blinding pain pierced the very centre of his mind, he tried in vain to resist the mental intrusion but the neglect of his potential ultimately left his defences laughable, like a child standing in the way of a rancor. Narcotic memories were dredged up and tossed aside like thick black sludge, the wastes of his constant self-destruction of little worth to the Triumvir.

The sound from his throat started to fade as his captor ripped deeper until it was nothing more than the occasional guttural crackle escaping from Dorn's still-open maw. Meagre muscles twitched uncontrollably as anaemic skin shifted wildly over the exposed bone of his malnourished form. Hands grasping in manic seizure, searching fruitlessly for relief.

Buried within came places, faces and conversations that were ruthlessly torn out at the root one-by-wretched-one. Revelations of a spiced-up junkie providing cut-price deals to those that wished to see the Sith and their ilk eradicated from this galaxy. The mirth shared, the luck that he wished for them in their fight against tyranny, the details of their plans ripped out of the very depths like flesh from bone.

The who.

The what.

The why.

The when.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

An answer was given... an inadequate answer. Forcing the tendrils of his minds into the depths of Kiber's consciousness, Adrian dredged up and discarded the recollections of a life poorly lived, pushing aside faded memories tarnished by excessive drug use, fear, and self-pity. How pathetic.

Digging deeper still, he found what he was looking for, his fingers tightening their grasp. Anything he could get his hands on, he had sold, had made himself an accomplice to crimes against the Empire - more than an accomplice. He had known, not always, but sometimes. He had known...

... about the attack that almost killed his little brother. The bombing. He had... he provided the bomb. Diving deeper still, he abandoned all trace of finesse, ripping through whatever natural defences Kiber's mind possessed with furious abandon. Names and faces, times and places. The ringleader from the report - suicide to avoid capture - and a pile of credits, soon spent on the new drug on the street. Drugs? He spent the money on drugs?

Departing as quickly as he had left, Adrian let his fingers fall to the side, taking a moment to collect himself. Desric was fine, today, but he had been in that bacta tank for weeks - and he could have just as easily have died, had it not been for his bodyguard.

"You... you filth. You except any mercy from me, after what you have done? You have the blood of Sith-Imperial Citizens on your hands, civilians, regardless of whether you pulled the trigger yourself. You are the reason I almost lost my..."

Slashing a hand through the air, he briefly glared at Cara - this wasn't the time for enjoyment - before turning back to the Legionnaires; in their time serving beside him, they had only rarely seen him angry - and now he was seething. "Zerek One, please... and someone send a message to Lord Dabo, tell him I will be proceeding to Phase Three of our little project ahead of schedule. I have decided upon an alternate medium."

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

His physical form eventually grew taut, only the occasional involuntary muscle spasm coming as his memories fell victim to the increasingly violent mental assault. Were he capable of coherent thought at that moment Kiber might wondered if this would be his end. If his mind would collapse in upon itself, it's foundations damaged and with it, he would cease to be.

No such luck as it all suddenly stopped.

His body went limp, held up entirely by the grip of the Legionnaires as those bloodshot emeralds tried to readjust to the room only roll around in a confused haze. Mind was still scrambled, thoughts blurring with disturbed memories and scattered emotions, a temporary side-effect of such a brutal practice.

The Sith Lord spoke, a figure of fury and perhaps it was a small mercy that Dorn was still half-drooling in his mental recovery. Not fully considering cause and consequence as his head lolled lazily upwards to stare at his captor, a glazed-over expression half-confusion and half-pain affixed upon his gaunt features.

“...gwarl?” was what his mouth managed in mangled correspondence as his brain tried to reboot.

In a better state, he might have announced regret for his actions and acknowledged that the path he had taken in life had led him to poor vice-based decisions and that he didn't ever want anybody to get hurt. In craving full control of his life he had ultimately lost all control in the end.

Another life that saw him embrace the responsibility of his potential might have been pondered, what kind of Sith would he have been? What man would have stood there on that day? What weight would his soul bear?

Or perhaps, was he lucid or brave enough Kiber Dorn might have felt explosive fury just as righteous. Blood of Sith-Imperial citizens on his hands? His entire family, loyal Sith-Imperial citizens had been massacred by Kaine Zambrano on a whim to prove a point to a stupid and disloyal girl and what was his price to pay?

He became the fucking Emperor.

These were all things out of sight and out of mind as the addict slowly started to recover his senses, eyes involuntary tearing up from the prior horrific process. Contemplation of his new situation was slow, but it wasn't entirely lost upon him.

“...I...mm'sorry,” Dorn slurred slowly like his mouth was filled with marbles, “...jus...trynna...survive...yoouu...knooow?”

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

As Kiber was dragged through the corridors, manhandled by Legionnaires who were nervously doing their best to avoid irritating the furious Lord which they served, he might catch glimpses of the samey corridors from before, but it was doubtful that he would be able to tell where they were going.

Circling the station's edge towards a very specific lab, one which could be spaced if something went wrong, one reserved for especially bold research.

"Survive? No, you are a slave to addiction and resentment, ever circling the abyss. You should have had the grace to die."

It was too late for that, however, too late for the release of death. Adrian had not come where he was by wasting valuable resources, had not kept those he cared about safe in a cutthroat galaxy without making an example or two - even furious as he was the coldly analytical part that was always near the front of his consciousness looked for ways to turn his righteous wrath into a boon, to kill two birds with one stone, if you will.

"You know, most Sith would have simply tortured you to death. I am not most Sith." Once more, the man would be strapped to a table, though this room was larger, filled with equipment of every kind. A place of science, Sith Science. "I can't promise that there will be much left, of who you are, but at the very least you will serve a purpose, perhaps for the first time in your life. Consider it a mercy."

"The only mercy I am willing to grant you."

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

The new journey was unsteadier than the last, his sluggish feet unable to keep up with the pace and the roughness of his escorts. It didn't matter when he stumbled, for a beat wasn't skipped and he was simply dragged until he found his footing once again.

The side effect of the Sith Lord's mental intrusion was slowly wearing off but still there remained a jumbled haze of mental trauma, inhibiting brain signals and thoughts like a strong sedative but with none of the narcotic pleasure. Even through the miasma, Kiber had started to realised that he had truly karked up, even by his standards. He could feel it. The air had changed, tainted by wretched fury in the place of callous disdain.

New room.

New bonds.

New intentions.

Kiber grimaced, his parched lips drawn back as if he was pained. Being tortured to death by a Sith was a prospect that he had imagined a great many times over the course of countless bad trips. One last Dorn to wipe away. The paranoia born from it left him always looking over his shoulder, always moving, always nervous. It's coming, a pessimistic little voice would whisper in his head. Only a matter of time.

Yet that voice was wrong, that was not to be his fate and in horrific fashion death by torture sounded preferable. He would have been broken and mutilated, exposed to a litany of his own personal horrors and pain until he was nothing but quivering flesh babbling for the end. At least it was an end. The suffering would be finite and he would at long last join the rest of his family.

No more running.

“...w-w-wh...whaaaa....w-wuh...”

The real fear had set in, creeping through his veins like an insidious poison. It wasn't the nervous fast-talking unease that buzzed within him when he first awoke. Nor was it the agitated terror that had plagued him in the face of the feral Starweird.

No, it was fear that paralysed and made a simple spoken sentence seem like a mountain to climb. Dorn forced his eyes shut and it did nothing to quell the spreading horror that soon grabbed his entire being.

“...w-wh....what...whu-what...ar-ah-are y-yuh-you-you....”

The junkie didn't want to know but in the same breathe he had to, he had to know his fate and what would be left of him, if there would be anything left at all.

“...guh-go-going to... to duh-d-dooo...t-to muh-me?”

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Straps were fastened and equipment prepared, the Legionnaires leaving to wherever they had come from. Kiber was alone in the room, now, along with a Sith and a Zeltron, and unlike a similarily phrased joke, it was hardly the leadup to a pleasant experience.

Brandishing thin metal objects vaguely resembling long spikes, Adrian advanced upon the restrained man.

"Are you sure you want to know? Very well." Reaching down to begin branding runes into the skin of Kiber's chest, Adrian continued, voice disturbingly calm. "I am going to ritually prepare your body, then I am going to commence preparatory alterations. Removing redundant parts, stripping down natural defences, the like. After that, we get to the interesting part. There might not be much left of you when I'm done..."

"... but what does remain will be very, very useful. To me, anyway."

Finishing the initial design, he nodded to Cara, who began rubbing strange oils onto the design, wearing long gloves to avoid coming into contact which the substance. Kiber, meanwhile, had no such protection and would likely feel his flesh tingling oddly.

"In short, I am going to turn you into a conduit for my power."

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Unfortunately, it was quite difficult to take into account just what exactly the Sith was saying as he set about the beginnings of this grim procedure. There came sharp pain upon his chest; it gave cause for his back to arch as much as the restraints physically allowed, which to be frank wasn't a lot. A cry escaped him before it devolved into whimpers hissing out from behind gritted teeth as his mind absorbed choice words and phrases.

Alterations.

Redundant parts.

Not much left of you.

A part of Kiber wanted to open his eyes, to see what exactly was being inflicted upon his body and yet he couldn't. The fear and denial kept them shut as if there was a chance that not witnessing such horrors meant that it wasn't really happening.

“...puh-p-plea...”

He winced as he felt hands touch upon his now-tender chest as unbeknownst to him Cara was now doing playing her part. Perhaps for the best that he didn't see, for Kiber Dorn couldn't imagine a galaxy where getting a chest rub from a Zeltron was a thing of dread-filled omen.

Flesh seemed to buzz, the strange sensation mingling with the after-burn of pain. Desperation came once more. Just say something. Say anything. Save yourself.

“I-I jus'...nu-n-needed creds! I-I-I'm sorry! Was-wasn't thinking! I d-didn't think!”

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Ignoring the man's pitiful pleas, Adrian began work on another runic swirl, its purpose to channel and direct the power that would flow through Dorn once he was no longer Dorn, once he became a conduit for the will of his betters. "Oh stop your whining, I'll do your bones in time."

If anything, that would increase the whining, as if he deserved any better - most subjects were put to sleep, before such proceedings, but Adrian had little sympathy left for this wreck of a man and his pain should, if everything goes according to plan, strengthen the very sorceries forced upon him.

His pain served a purpose, then, but his constant begging had started to get on the Sith Lord's nerves... so why wait?

"Cara dear? Would you kindly remove his tongue? It's not like he'll need it."

Leaving to prepare the equipment needed for the next stage of the preparations, Dorn was left alone with the Zeltron... who was currently humming a merry tune, a vicious glimmer in her eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, she walked over to a nearby table, testing the edge of a curved ritual dagger. Content with its sharpness, she all but prowled back towards Dorn, as if inviting his (ineffectual) pleas. "Not how you envisioned your night ending, hmm?"

She, however, had been hoping for something like this, dearly hoping. Force Users always felt so vivid, even the untrained ones.

Especially the untrained ones.

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

The suffering continued, every possible plea that escaped his desperate mouth relegated to the realms of mere annoyance in the eyes of the Sith Lord. His body attempted to surge with each note of pain, an automatic response but the bonds that held him were unyielding. He wailed, he whimpered, stuttering and stammering all the more as the notion of his bones came into play.

Do what to his bones?

He still chose to keep his eyes shut, not wishing to see a single scrap of his own mutilation. If he didn't know what he looked like could he still be a man in his own eyes? Could he deny such horrors and leave imprinted in his head his last own reflection?

Remove his tongue.

“N-nuh-n-no! Nonono! D-duh-don't! Please!”

More likely ineffectual pleas as Kiber was evidently left alone with the Zeltron who had been tasked with such a macabre duty. It all had to be fathomed by sound alone. The whoosh of doors and the feminine hum left behind in its wake, the only thing disrupting it was his own panicked breathing.

She spoke to him, and common sense begged for him not to reply. Don't open your mouth, she's going to take your tongue.

But desperation was stronger than common sense. Maybe he could appeal to her, maybe she was different. Maybe he'd forgotten about the predatory stare she had held earlier. Alas, wasn't hope so foolish?

“Y-y-yuh-you don...don't have t-t-tu-to do this,” he babbled, finally opening his eyes to look to her in the hopes that Cara would see a human being before her, and that she would feel something, “y-you could l-l-let muh-me go...or...or...or....cu-cu-cut muh-my throa....throa,” turns out that asking somebody to cut your throat was quite difficult, “...j-just don't do this! D-don't do this t-tuh-to me!”

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Quirking her head sideways, the Zeltron smiled brightly at him, a vicious glimmer in her eyes. "You want to die? How unusual."

Leaning over him, she allowed the dagger to dance across his throat without breaking the skin, then opened the slightest little nick before pulling it back. All the while savouring the experiences flowing from him like water from a spring. "Oh, but you'll be no use to Adrian dearest dead... I could kill you, though. I could slit your throat or carve out your heart and he would be annoyed, but I dare say he would forgive me."

Laughing musically, she stroked his chin with her gloved fingers, readying her knife once more. "But that would be so boring. Death, in general, is so boring, so bland; a corpse feels nothing, after all."

Looking him in the eyes, her playfulness ceased abruptly, leaving only hunger in its wake. "Well, then? Will you be a good boy and open up wide, or will I have to have to force it open... hooks would work. Oh, how that would hurt."

Just because she had a job to do didn't mean she couldn't savour it.

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Oh, how this would have been his dream once upon a time not so long ago, to be tied up and at the mercy of a beautiful, predatory Zeltron. Playful. Dominating. Teasing. He'd certainly seen enough illicit holovids in his time that depicted such a scenario to know that it wasn't just a fantasy that he had held alone.

How quickly things can change.

She still teased but now his desires so much darker, her blade so achingly close to granting Kiber the sweet sanctuary that death would bring. A flinch and a whimper as the edge made the slightest cut but yet he even tried to push his neck out further for more but the restraints made that nigh impossible. Anything to escape what was coming.

Nothing but a tease, her words not seductive but sadistic. With not a single shred of humanity. There would be no appealing to her.

“....n-no...no...please,” he mewled pathetically, realising the complete futility of it all.

The pink-skinned psychopath made it more than evident that were he to resist then the end result would only be further, needless suffering. The addict reluctantly opened his mouth, his jaw trembling uncontrollably due to the sheer terror of the entire scenario. His carved chest heaved in frightful anticipation of being mutilated, only the beginning of that grim fate.

If the gods were kind they'd let him drown in his own blood.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

As he willed his mouth open, submitting his tongue for removal, the Zeltron could not help but giggle. Oh, how he suffered - and she hadn't even started cutting yet. The sensible choice would be to restrain the muscles in his jaw, force it to stay open...

... but if he bit her, she would have an excuse to go further still.

"Good boy." Humming under her breath, she quickly nabbed something from a nearby table, leaving it accessible but out of sight as she levied her knife once more, reaching into his mouth to ready his tongue for removal. They had plasma scalpels, but that was so clean, so boring.

She was going to relish this.

Smiling coldly as she reached for the stem of his tongue, their eyes met. "It would be a real shame if you were rude enough to bite me. Oh, how I would have to punish you." And, just like that, she began to cut, sipping deeply from pain and despair alike.

Out of sight, but within reach, a narrow instrument rested, ready to cauterize the stem and suck up any stray blood. There was no escape.

Kiber Dorn​

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Another lifetime passed or at least seemed to in the build-up to his cruel mutilation. The anticipation born from dread melting away the concept of time and causing that sinister giggle to echo throughout his skull.

The Zeltron's words set him up for failure as his tongue was grabbed, desperate, pleading eyes staring back at her. Of course, the addict had absolutely no intention of biting the hand that would cut but the human body held no consideration for intention, after all, why would somebody willingly keep their mouth open to endure such torture?

The blade bit, and he immediately screamed, the ragged and primal sound muffled by the obstruction in his mouth as instinct followed soon after and his yellow, chipped teeth bit down upon her gloved hand.

He'd been set up to lose from the moment he had woken up here.

Apologising didn't work. Begging didn't work. Nothing was going to work, and here he was setting himself up for greater suffering. The monstrous near-human was going to punish him now no matter what. It couldn't get worse, he was already committed.

Like a cornered animal the whites of his eyes turned feral as the taste of copper flooded his mouth, entire being clenched as it centred around his agony.

So Kiber bit down even harder, intentionally trying to do as much damage as possible.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

The wastrel tried his best to deny his primitive nature, but he could not help himself - she cut and he screamed, biting her slim hand.

It was painful, though the glove helped and her predatory eyes betrayed her satisfaction - that was, of course, until he suddenly bit down as hard as he could, desperately lashing out like any animal pushed into a corner; she should have seen it coming, but had been too focused on pleasure.

Inhaling in pain, she pulled her hand backwards, most of it escaping before he drove his filthy teeth down again.

Most of it.

Screaming in pain, she recoiled, ripping her hand from his jaw and staring at the stump where her ring finger used to be. For a long, long moment she simply stood there, frozen, the blood sliding down a long glove, and then she all but screamed in anger, driving her dagger towards his family jewels, a mad look in her eyes even as a soft red glow signalled that the site administrator had dispatched yet another response team.

As far as test subjects went, Kiber Dorn was somewhat problematic.