Rewired

[Jairus Starvald]

She'd find herself surrounded by extravagance. A lush room filled with richly decorated furniture, a table already set and covered with food, the bed she laid on was soft, sheets expensive. All in all a very different accommodation one might expect from being a captive. A stark contrast to the ascetic nature of the Jedi Order and the simple cells that were reserved for the Padawans.

Her mind had been cleaned, to a degree, but she had been afforded far more tact than [member="Qun Vell"] . Her memories had been altered subtly, all remainders of Qun had been removed and in its place suitable replacements were left. Ways for the mind to easily transition and alter its own perception according to what she was expecting to see. That was the best, most efficient, cleanest and most effective way of altering one's mind, by allowing the subconscious to fill in the plot holes itself.

That way it wouldn't feel foreign and strange. No obvious marks left to be noticed, a piece of art according to Darth Carach, his magnus opus and masterwork even.

In the meanwhile, the techno virus had run its course, hampered and suppressed to a degree by her new Master, Spark hadn't turned into a mindless zombie. The extend of her newfound abilities would have to be tested soon, but not now. A ping in her mind went off, the familiar presence of Carach subtly weaved in and she would get the impression that he would he joining her soon for dinner.

If she wished to try and escape... she would have to do it quickly, there was no trace of electronics within the confines of her room, nothing to manipulate. No light saber either and it didn't seem like the Sith Lord had left any other weapons here, except maybe a durasteel fork, she could try and use that.

Tick-tock, [member="Spark Finn"] ... what's it gonna be?

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

Her body's response to the technovirus almost killed her. The fever raged for a few days but the expert manipulation from the one subtly woven and branded in her mind as her master saved the jedi padawan. But she didn't remember the fever, chills, or writhing in pain. Those memories were erased along with [member="Qun Vell"].

Her smaller form stirred in the bed, wishing she could stay floating in the darkness forever. It was safe here. She didn't have to think about...A familiar presence caressed her mind.

He is coming.

Manaan.

Gray-blue eyes snapped open and she jolted upright in the bed, gaze darted wildly around the unfamiliar surroundings. Fingers brushed the back of her neck but there was no pain. A gurgle of panic bubbled up from her chest. Untangling herself from the sheets, she stumbled free from the bed. Senses automatically extended in the force, looking for a datapad, chrono, automatic door-locks, anything that she could use to send a message out to someone in the Order.

You're just a padawan. They won't come looking for you. They don't even know your name. You had no master. Master Shule doesn't even know who you are. You had no friends. The tree-man will not find you.

A whisper in her mind.

She shook her head, trying to shake it off. The doorknob turned. Hands patted the pockets of her gray-hoodie. Nothing. And she wasn't a fighter anyway.

She only had once chance.

Stepping quickly, she pressed her back against the wall, positioning herself right next to the door. When it opened, she would have one chance to slip through the opening. Freckled-nose scrunched up as she threw the blanket of white-current over herself. She had to wait until whoever it was came in because she wasn't skilled enough to keep the cloak up and move at the same time.

Eyes moved to the food on the table which she missed in her panic earlier. Sandy-brows crinkled as she furiously attempted to keep the rumble of hunger from escaping her stomach.

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Darth Carach"] [member="Spark Finn"] [member="Qun Vell"]

Somewhere in levantine space.....

Kalizka sat on the soft loamy soil of his make shift hut and focused on his lesson from Master Shule. Kal didn't like breaking coconuts, but knowing where to be...that he was good at. He meditated on his to little friends and their innocent awkwardness. However, what he felt from the force did not make him feel very friendly. He felt his little friends were in trouble. He didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit. He could feel the tug and suddenly he could almost see a line crossing space and time. They may not think of it, but he would find and help them. Whoever had them better be ready cuz he was one pissed off tree....

 

[Qun Vell]

Meanwhile, in a much less comfortable prison cell somewhere(sexist)

Qun was currently asleep, dreaming of simpler events and simpler courses of action. He dreamed that he was a rougish scoundrel possessing holographic masks, dual blasters, jet boots, and an excessive talent for pelvic sorcery. A friend of his that felt familiar but was nameless([member="Spark Finn"]) and forgotten was a green-hued assassin with a telescoping sword and uncommon reflexes and strength. Despite defending the homes of another with selfless action and valor they were captured by a blue skinned pirate that controlled his weapons through his mind([member="Darth Carach"]). Despite the rouge's and assassin's somewhat low social skills they had a friend coming after them. To rescue them. He was strong, thick, honest, wooden, and he could only speak three words([member="Kalizka"]), but he would prevail despite such vocalist limitations.

Qun got the weirdest dreams when he was sober.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Kalizka"] [member="Qun Vell"] [member="Spark Finn"]

Had the Sith Lord been aware of the tree’s intentions he probably would have pounded his chest and went all: “Come at me, bruh.”. Sadly Carach wasn’t aware of the Tree’s liberal use of a rare art while just being promoted to Knight, alas.

In the meanwhile, Spark’s tactic was a smart one, and yet it wouldn’t have the effect she had hoped for.

Seeing as Carach was a Master of the White Current and was pretty much aware of her usage of it, which meant that instead of walking into the room the Sith Lord stood in the middle of the doorway, barring any possibility of retreat.

He was pretty broad in the shoulders, sorry.

Besides, behind him… four Royal Guards and two Shadow Guards stood on watch, she wouldn’t have been able to escape anyway. Sorry, again.

‘Miss Finn, if you would be so kind to drop the cloak I would be eternally grateful, our food is getting cold.’

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

She gulped and the blanket of white current crumbled away. Even though requested politely, she had no choice but to obey. She staggered away from the door but didn't back-up completely. She stopped in front of him and between the table of food, just out of his reach. She pushed up on her toes and peaked just beyond his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his entourage.

Eyes returned to his face, captured by those glowing eyes though her mind still calculated the odds of trying to use some force speed to slip around him.

She resolutely pushed the black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, refusing to show all the fear tingling through her body. "Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]

The Sith Lord would blink, as if entirely confused by the question posed and not sure on how to properly answer. Wasn’t it obvious what he wanted? Were there really that many possibilities? Eventually Carach would sigh, it wasn’t clear if it was from disappointment, tiredness or just simply to fill in the void between pondering the question and giving it an answer.

Then finally a shrug would come, offering nonchalance before stepping over the doorstep and closing the only exit behind him. If she wanted to escape, she would have to go through him, open the door and then also escape the four Royal Guards and two Force Adepts currently guarding the doors. If she accomplished that her Master would be so proud of her, but he didn’t have a lot of faith in it.

‘It seems very clear to me, Lady Finn.’ the Voice of the Dark Lord finally answered, leaning against the door with an old grin, a grin that hadn’t seen the light of day for a very long time. It was a grin owned by a different man, from a different period of time and yet… here it was. Lazy, disarming and strangely soothing in its own right, such a peculiar Sith Lord it was. ‘I aim to make you powerful.’

As if that answered all the questions he extended his hand towards the table, an open invitation to come and sit with him.

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Darth Carach"]

Kalizka would definitely bring it because he checked post count and rank title tags then giggle-snorted.

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

There was something almost disarming about the look on his face. Almost. Blah, blah, blah, power. She was already moving. The force ignited in the small, lithe muscles that she had. While her size didn't grant her an advantage in combat, she did have an advantage in speed and squirming through tight spaces.

Evading space-port authorities took a lot of skill! Especially, the not getting caught part.

She dove and slid between the natural space of the Darth's legs, attempting to squirm behind him and knock him further into the room with her shoulders against the back of his thighs - dangerously close to his butt - as she found the floor with her knees and reached up for the door-handle.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]

‘If you wish to skip right through the foreplay, I can accommodate.’ the Sith Lord replied in a deadpan voice, wholly not concerned with the current situation. She would soon find that the muscles in his thighs were almost made out of beskar, that’s how much traction she got while trying to move him aside. To a degree a weaker position should help her out with this attempt, but weight came into the competition, weight, muscles and cybernetic implants.

Then he reached out between his legs and pulled up the Jedi Padawan from under him, before settling her back on her feet. A little manipulation of the force pushed her back a few steps, to give Carach a fraction of personal space. Even a Sith Lord needed some privacy every once in a while.

‘So about that dinner.’

His patience seemed eternal, but with all the stories she had heard previous… it would be wearing thin probably. Soon. Maybe.

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

She was like a gangly, hipster ragdoll in his arms. Better in his arms than smashed behind his backside. She huffed as she stumbled the few steps back, righting the askew glasses on her face. Two indignant hands reached up to tug the sides of her gray-hoodie straight again.

She backed-up and half fell, half sat into the closest chair at the table which also happened to be the closest chair to the door, leaving Darth Carach the second chair, which if he took it, would put him out of her way if she were to make another dash at the handle. Which she planned to. Maybe a little smarter this time.

"Fine. Let's eat."

She angled her chair, so the back was to the wall. The middle of her own back pressed into the lip of the table, converse sneakers crossed at the ankles as she faced the bulky sith lord. Fingers twitched, pressing into her thighs.

C'mon, c'mon. Just come around the table.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]

Just a flash of disappointment, before the Sith Lord sighed and said. ‘You are aware I can read your mind, yes?’ His stature was impeccable, back straight and there was no irony in his voice. It seemed to be a very awkward situation, more so for Spark than for the Voice of the Dark Lord.

He awaited her response, hands crossed behind his back.

 

[Spark Finn]

"What?" Sandy-brows shot up and she stopped fidgeting. Whether it was more from surprise at what he said or how she felt when she saw that flicker of disappointment, she didn't know. Deep down, under the surface of resentment and indignation she felt remorse over the possibility of disappointing her mast---. No, she wasn't going to say it OR think it. But she knew. She couldn't change what part of herself the techno virus already claimed as it's own.

That in of itself was crushing and defeating. Even if she didn't know all the details of what Darth Carach did to her, she felt the change. She didn't want to admit it was there because maybe if she did it would cement itself permanently.

And because of this realization, all snarky comments died on her slightly chapped lips, about to grill him on what color or food she was thinking of at that exact moment. Pick a number between one and ten...

Pale face paled a shade lighter. She pulled her knees up to her chest and encircled them tightly with her arms, silently watching the sith lord, feeling more and more of herself being pulled into his magma-orbs. And so it would seem she was beginning to understand who held all the power cards in her current situation.

But it wouldn't always be that way. And the more the abducted padawan realized this, the more likely her actions would turn to one last drastic measure to stall the inevitable submission.

"No." A quiet response to his question or something else.

[member="Darth Carach"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]

Disappointment replaced by pride, the signs of a teacher pleased. Ah… defiant to the very end. [member="Spark Finn"] would be the perfect apprentice, even if she wasn’t aware of this right now, he had numerous opportunities to stop her escape attempt right now, but he did none of that.

Instead Carach simply sat down at the front of the table, next to her, with the door (and possible escape) to his back. He was expecting her to try and run, wanted it even for some reason, before she realized her luck in his seating position he asked her something.

‘Where are you planning to run to, Lady Finn?’ the Sith Lord’s question was relaxed, there was no tension, just simple interest and curiosity in her plan. Pride was still underlining the currents coming from him.

But why was he proud of her?

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

She sat numbly next to him, still clutching her drawn-up legs. Even seated, her form was dwarfed by his. She stared at the door without really looking at it as she refused to look at him even as the awareness of his pride washed over her.

Stomach clenched between revulsion and wanting more. The tension only built in her shoulders. Building. Building. She was already a blur off the chair when he asked his question. The comforter from the bed flew to cover and entangle the Sith Lord with a brush of the force. Somehow she had a feeling he was letting her do this, letting her win.

But she didn't look back. Her hand was already opening the door. It wasn't locked but she had been prepared if it was.

The air shimmered, no sparkled, in front of her as she pushed a wall of force shield out in an offensive move. It caught the first few guards just enough off balance.

Where are you planning to run, Miss Finn?

She faltered as she force-sprinted down the hall, Darth Carach's voice ringing in her head. Fingertips tingled and she finally picked up on what was absent in her room: technology. Her focus narrowed and she reached for the shadow guard's device, intending to send a message.

Where?

An invisible wave hit her from behind. It didn't take much to kick up the slicer's body in the air, especially when she was distracted. Palm pushed forward on instinct to help catch her fall as the ground rushed up to meet her. But the angle was all wrong. A sickening pop filled her ear as bone snapped on impact. She rolled into the wall and cradled her wrist.

The guards surrounded her even as the sith's question plagued her thoughts. Heart beat rapidly in her chest as her panic hit a crescendo. She reached with the force: a guard might feel a pang of electrocution from a malfunctioning comm, the misfire of a blaster, or lightsaber, or their HUD vision suddenly became disrupted.

"Stay away from me," she breathed even as her wrist swelled to the size of a baby hutt's tail.

But it wasn't the physical pain that bothered her the most, it was Carach's question and the work of his mental mind frakking. She had no where to go.

But the temple....

They don't care about you.

I'm better off on my own then.

You sure about that?

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]

Footsteps heralded his arrival, before his calm, dark presence swept over all that were there. The guards took a step back, some of them unconsciously cutting off any possible retreat for the young apprentice, for a while they simply existed in that unbalanced way.

Her, sitting on the ground and clutching her hand. Him, the Sith Lord, towering over her in calm grace with no apparent anger issues. It was strange that he wasn’t wroth with her, that he didn’t seem to particularly care that she tried to escape from him, why was that?

‘I.’ the Voice of the Dark Lord began. ‘need an apprentice, not a slave. It is my wish to train you, make you strong and able to defend yourself and those you love. Here… with the Sith there are monsters, but monsters are everywhere. Even the Republic has those, we both know this to be true.’ she would feel the truth of those words. ‘If you stay with me,I will protect you against those monsters, at least until you can protect yourself.’

A shrug.

‘Or you can leave, right now. I will not stop you. You may go.’ again a truth, she would feel that distinct possibility open to her, made apparent by the guards taking a step to the side and giving her a path to walk away. But perhaps… she wouldn’t want to. ‘The night is dark and full of terrors, my Lady Finn, you will get this choice but only once. So chose wisely.’

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

She stared up at the one she once thought of as a monster and she as a morsel to be devoured. But even that fleeting thought was scrubbed clean from her mind until it disappeared entirely. The technovirus already rewired her mind and loyalties.

The throbbing hand she cradled sitting in the shadow of the dark lord's voice was easily blamed on her own foolishness and the Jedi. The caress of the darkside and her new programming spoke - they abandoned you. Would you really leave all this now to go back to them? You're safe here and he can teach you a great deal. Feel your connection with him. Could you break it?

She looked from the cleared path to the exit and panned back up to lock eyes with Darth Carach. It was over before it began. "I want to stay...Master."

She stood slowly, still dwarfed in the Darth's shadow, the throbbing of her hand echoing the pounding in her chest.

Gray-blue eyes flitted to the guards. "Can I please get some pain meds?"

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]

A curt nod accepting the title as its due.

‘You need not concern yourself with trivial matters as pain.’ the Sith Lord finally spoke, in answer to her request for pain medication. ‘Not when you are in my favor, lady Finn.’

His hand extended towards her and she got the clear intent that Carach wished for her to give him her broken hand.

This was about trust and loyalty.

The first in many rewards for those who simply… had faith.

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Darth Carach"]

If he had asked her that an hour ago she would have shied away and looked at him unmoving with defiance reflected in her gaze. Perhaps her shyness was still there, but that was more due to her personality than an act of rebellion. Like a magnet attracted to it's other half, she felt herself pulled forward of what she accepted as her own volition.

Swelled palm extended to meet his beckoning hand. Her good hand clenched tightly against her chest, fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist of anxiety. "What happens to those outside of your favor?"

Perhaps a squeak left her voice from the healthy amount of underlying fear he had imagining what her master would do to his enemies.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Spark Finn"]​

A swift movement, a pop and Carach had set the broken palm back in place. Yet… she would feel no pain, that was the thing few people really understood about pain. It wasn’t real, it was an illusion your brain created.​

Sometimes? It was good pain, it warned you, made you aware of a dangerous situation you were in. But most of the time? It was a distraction, it was a sensation of agony that nobody had to experience willingly.​

And so Carach had replaced it, instead of pain she would feel warmth spreading through her (relatively) little body. ​

‘They…’ the Sith Lord simply said. ‘find themselves outside life's favor.’​

‘Better?’ Carach finally asked, a bit of concern within his voice.​