"No Pity. No Pain. No Fear." [SOLO]

[Connor Harrison]

Laboratory 49; Galactic Intelligence Agency Headquarters
Coruscant, Coruscant System​

Equator City was locked down as the Galactic Intelligence Agency swarmed in. Two large transports blocked the street as an emergency carrier hovered nearby in the square, blue and red lights creating a dizzying swirl around the nearby buildings. On-looks craned their necks in interest, trying to see a glimpse of what was the cause of the sudden commotion and fever amongst GIA agents.

​

Ben Trasker was moments away from death, his broken, bleeding body being hurried from the isolated building where his locater had brought the GIA back-up to moments before.

Now it was a race against time to get him to the GIA Medical Bay on Coruscant before he died.

Strapped to the stretcher, guided by 3 focused agents and a doctor, Trasker was still, the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose helping him breathe and keep his body alive.

The Sith Knight, Matsu Xiangu, was long gone and so too was her mercenary friend, Kail Ragnar, the man Trasker was hunting. After making a public notice for information, Xiangu had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and noticed Trasker seeking intel – it was then she led him away on false pretence and barraged him with an assault of her Force power, torturing and butchering him for doing his job.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, Trasker had found his body was unresponsive, and there was more blood loss than he expected. It wasn’t long before he passed out, and a sight that looked like a gang-land massacre greeted the old GIA investigator when he honed in.

Now, as orders were barked out and the GIA transports lifted up from the ground to escort the medical ship to Coruscant, time was not on their side.

But then again, it didn’t really matter as long as they could preserve the brain. Because they didn’t need Ben Trasker’s body, and they weren’t under orders to take him to the Medical Bay.

They had orders from high up to get Agent Trasker to the underground secret cell of the GIA – Lab 49.

 

[Connor Harrison]

Inside the crisp, clean Lab 49 a good mile or so beneath the main GIA Headquarters, away from the prying eyes of the media and even many Agents themselves, a select few specialists worked night and day for the good the galaxy.

Well – that depends how you see “good”.

What made a person good or bad? Was it their morality? Their judgement? Their affiliation to one group or another? If you could make a being that didn’t have allegiance to anyone except its creator, and if you took away their morality and judgement, would that allow their actions to be deemed “good” if they were acting in the interest of the greater picture?

With many failures before and terminated employees and millions of credits fed into testing, analysis and investigation into what drove the search for justice in a galaxy plagued with corruption, evil and fear, the GIA had their secret cell in Lab 49, which didn’t even HAVE a name, to create work on Operation Nemesio.


Derived from ancient mythology, stemming from before the rise of the Sith and Jedi, a group known as the ‘Nemein’ were a powerful Force and Non-Force users who acted on the sole belief to give what was due, for retribution and in righteous anger. Through the centuries the tales of the ‘Nemein’ battling against both Sith and Jedi, and even the Mandalorions, grew; their plight to rid all those who brought evil and corruption to the galaxy no matter what the side of good or evil they sat on. Evil came in many forms an no-one was susceptible from it.

Known as Basic commonly as now ‘Nemesio’, this referred to a single person, a force, combined from all the ‘Nemein’, who was seen as a spirit of divine retribution against those who wish to harm others – this act would be met by Nemesio; the Dispenser of Justice, or “he who dispenses justice fairly.”

Dr Guy Caviyl of Lab 49 stood before the five heads of the operation in the briefing room. A holo-image of Ben Trasker’s broken body was flickering behind him as he spoke. From a man once the picture of inspirational law enforcement, here he looked broken, bloodied and near unrecognisable after the clean-up and bandaging of his body. He was in critical condition, but his brain was the one organ to keep alive.

“So as you can see, Agent Trasker is – well – a moment away from death should the machine be switched off. However, his brain is active and can be saved if we act fast with your backing.”

Turning, as if on cue, he came to face a 3D image of the human body, with visible mutilations and red patches over vital areas. Caviyl swallowed, looking at his notes and then the image. He briefly adjusted his glasses and scratched the side of his nose for a second.

“Left leg gone at the knee. Right thigh has a deep 12 centimetre gash through the muscle. Left arm broken and amputated. Left shoulder blade and socket broken. 7 centimetre gash on the left side of the face which has led to the severing of the vestibulocochlear nerve and made him blind in the left eye.”

He inhaled quickly.

“Upper-left puncture of the torso with internal laceration of the bone. Severe head trauma to the rear. 4 broken ribs. Punctured lung. Internal bleeding, bruising to the spine and the torso shows signs of severe burns to the flesh from the puncture wound, possible from an electrical charge or something, we can’t be sure – the wound is too clean and precise.”

Caviyl turned back to see the emotionless faces of the board, a few leaning forward, a couple in quiet conversation.

“We can re-build him. We can make him into a killing machine that will not answer to anyone or anything except Operation Nemesio. Not even the GIA will control this – it will be our baby, but I need your consent as he has no kin. He was one of the best men we had; loyal, hard-working and dedicated.”

Sentimentally, and with a heavy look of regret, he turned back to the image of Trasker lying there.

“He deserves this second chance at being the best.”

 

[Connor Harrison]

Caviyl had a team of six. Just six. No more, no less. The less eyes and mouths, the less the risk of leak.

Working for 4 months, Lab 49 kept Trasker alive – or rather, the brain – as they destroyed and operated on his body and began constructing his new ‘skin’ – black Katarn-class III armour that would allow total movement in all limbs and the ability to stand, duck, run, walk, crawl and jump.

However, due to the sheer weight being carried, it wouldn’t enable the greatest of speeds or acrobatic maneuverability against some foes. However with enough persuasion that the fire-power and drive Trasker would have should compensate his heavy and imposing stature.


The work on the brain was intricate and took a good 15 hours collectively just on the re-wiring of the organ itself. Implanting a number of programming chips into Trasker would allow a feed to and from the GIA and fed through into his body. Caviyl had to remind himself that the suit wasn’t a suit – it was his body.

To cover the face, a protective visor was fixed to allow unrestricted views in front and the peripheral vision. As a monitor for Lab 49, it would be a constant HUD of activity around Trasker to identify suspects within the G.I.A database and also provides infa-red, ultra-violent and continent adjusting displays to suit 99% of all environments and geographical surroundings so he is never blind, night or day. Audible feeds would be constant when activated from GIA thanks to the implant.

A powerful T-6 blaster was then affixed to his right thigh that Trasker would control via his processing chip that will active once his human hand grips the butt’s palm and finger print scanner, enabling the weapon only to be used by him and no-one else with the only human part of Trasker’s body saved for that purpose.

Imprinted with a small G.I.A symbol, Caviyl was under orders to make sure their product was made for total dexterity but to act as a symbol against evil and be tactical in combat out in the field.

 

[Connor Harrison]

When you’re out to build the perfect machine, nothing else seems to matter.

A machine that never got tired, or had a sick day.

A machine that didn’t question orders, or stop to think and hesitate for a split-second.

A machine that would instil trust in society’s fight against evil, no matter the danger.

Caviyl was worn out, but spurred on each morning with the knowledge that they were a step closer to the perfect weapon to unleash on the galaxy, one that could serve as a template to serve as a small army or squad to fight and tackle enemies no human officer could possibly attempt.

Standing with his most trusted colleague, Dr Sue Sable, Caviyl rubbed his face gently to remind himself he was still human after such intricate, mind-numbing procedures.

”He would have wanted this, right?” He sighed, looking ahead at their creation laid out like a cold hunk of metal on the table before them. Lifeless, devoid of feeling.

Sable offered a small smile, but no answer. Even she didn’t know if a man like Trasker would want to have his memory edited, shuffled and pieced together in order to erase the past and become a product, not a man.

He patted Sable on the shoulder gently, a small squeeze to assure her they had done all they could for the chiefs upstairs who had been the ones to delete Ben Trasker from their employment records, erase all files, and make public his death at the hands of the Sith on Rodia.

”Tomorrow is test day. Pray to god it works. Try and get some sleep.”

 

[Connor Harrison]

Tapping his cheeks gently with his favourite blue pen, Dr Caviyl looked on with three others at a series of monitors hooked up to Trasker in the training room, playing out a series of simulations to test out everything from his strength to dexterity, his speed to his accuracy. For the fourth day, Trasker moved like an efficient machine, firing stun charges at targets of all shapes and sizes. One step ahead with the environment around him thanks to this scanners and sensors, he moved fluidly and without hesitation from one cover to the next.

He vaulted small obstacles, taking down targets at times without even looking. His blood-red visor flashed along in the shadows, his armour shell looking like a mechanical reptile, a beast from planets like Tatooine who struck without warning and disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Caviyl leant over and spoke into a small microphone, feeding into the helmet covering Trasker’s scarred face.

”Good job Agent Trasker. Stand down.”

Inside the dimly lit training room, the lights flared up, a hazy blue and white, as technicians came in to accompany Trasker out back into Lab 49. He walked with a fierce determination, heavy footed and robotic. Bar his hand, his jaw was the only reminder of his past life and his mouth was fixed and emotionless – no smile, no scowl.

One of the GIA Directors who was sat next to Caviyl crossed his leg and drummed his fingers quickly, watching the screens and their product being returned back to the Lab.

”What drives him. How does he act – how does he think?”

Caviyl turned slightly and indicated to the monitors with his pen, painting a little picture with a stab here, a turn there.

”It’s the software. Years of research, development, funding. It operates faster, and his hardware is stronger. He’s more efficient this way.”

”So what is he, a human or a machine? And will he think like a human if he isn’t?” The Director said, thumbing his chin.

”Yes and no. Trasker is alive, or rather his brain is. We can never take the man from the machine, but the software will take over on command from the GIA. He – it – will have the voice and the memory of Trasker from his career as an Agent, but it will all be narrated by the machine and the software implanted in his brain. He will never know he even existed out of what he is now.”

Caviyl looked at Trasker, stood tall in his black armour looking lethal and efficient.

”The software acts and pulls the trigger. Trasker is just a carrier for the system and his brain will receive signals that make him feel as if he is in control. Like now - ” he pointed with his pen, ” – he thinks he has stopped and stood down, but he hasn’t. The software has. The GIA has.”

Standing up, the Director paced behind the monitors and looked down at the Lab where Trasker was, now alone in the white room.

”Ben Trasker is dead. But he thinks he is alive in the mind of a machine. Good work, Doc.”

”Thank you, but we, ah, we need a name. I refuse to use Ben Trasker, because that isn’t Ben Trasker anymore.”

The Director gazed upon the law giver, the dispenser of justice they had created. A few moments passed.

”It'll feel no pity, no pain and no fear. It's Nemesio. Go get ‘em, boy.”