Rebuilt in Pain

Dantooine. It was home, years ago. A whole different life ago. Bronwyn did not feel the pangs of nostalgia for a place that held only memories of contempt from her peers. There were flashes of those memories in her mind as she walked through the calm countryside toward the orphanage of her past. The Jedi ran it then, and she figured they would run it still. They fed her, and housed her, but provided none of the parental affection that had been denied to her by the Brotherhood of the Maw destroying her family in one of their brutal raids. It made a very sterile environment that much more numbing. To make matters worse, she did not fit in with the other children there, and even among other orphans, was an outcast among her own.
Those children were faint memories. Faces blurred by the passage of time, twisted into mocking expressions at her anguish. Back then she longed for approval and acceptance, and got none of it. Even the Jedi that cared for her kept her at arm's length. She could not figure out why simple kindnesses were foreign to her. Now, though, she cared little for them. Time and war saw to it that her need for approval had been replaced wholly by the consuming hatred that had been put in it's place. The tragic irony of it all, was that she had been rebuilt and taken in by the Brotherhood of the Maw after the Galactic Alliance failed her. Now, all of Krayt Squadron would suffer.
In some way she could appreciate the ironic nature of her continued existence. Bronwyn did not even know the name of the Sith that saw to it she was properly granted cybernetics to replace her maimed figure. It was a blind fury that saw to her freedom from the laboratory though. While he had succeeded in reconstructing her broken body and fitting her for war, the measures he tried to use to control her explicitly failed. What was left behind when she broke out of her bondage was a burning laboratory and the blood and bile of a body ripped to shreds as if a Sithspawn had torn the whole place asunder.
As the morning sunrise gave way to the midday overcast sky, it began to rain. Bronwyn had walked for hours through the countryside as if she was a migratory creature. The paths of her childhood were still there, worn further still into the soil by those who followed them. The wind caught the black cloak and as the weather picked up it silhouetted her on the horizon as she peaked the hill into the small dip that housed the building. Lights were on, people were home, and she could feel them. Jedi, they resided in that building and she knew deep down they could feel her presence as well.
Bronwyn stood atop the hill, the clawed digits of her cybernetic hand tapping off of the metallic frame of her left leg. It was not nerves, but anticipation. She wanted to crush them all, entirely, but since her mauling years ago she now tried to work out entry plans before launching an offensive. Even her efforts on Epoch were meticulous, and given life by the caution she had while she was in control of her emotions. It was dichotomy then, to know that she was also the wild berserker that tore bodies apart as she was an enraged gundark. Deep down she knew that berserker warrior was still inside, lurkcing at the edge of her mind and demanding to be released. It was willpower that kept it in check most of the time, but even now she could feel the fraying edges of her sanity shaking loose.
Only a short matter of time and she felt it would be released again. Still, all this darkness swirling about her in the Force roiled like the coming storm that pushed into the area. Anyone even remotely linked to the Force could feel the looming presence sitting at a distance like a predator waiting for the opening to attack. Bronwyn looked at the retractible claws on her fingers and to the building beyond. It was that moment that a voice called to her. To her left was the maimed figure of a GADF soldier. Nameless, but one she definitely killed. His words were inscrutable, but the expression on his bloodied face was one of hateful condemnation. She gripped the sides of her head and fell to her knees with her eyes closed. "Leave me. You are not real." she commanded. Only to be hit with more sounds that signaled the dead soldier's hate. The woman shook her head and growled, trying to refocus herself mid hallucination. Madness was breaking her mind apart, and she had to control it if she was going to finish off her former Squadron. She could not destroy them if she wound up incarcerated in a facility for the criminally insane. Without knowing what she had done, she had inadvertently become a whirling vortex of dark side energy as she tried to fight off the hallucinations, making her a beacon to anyone that could sense the Force.