Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Servitude For The Win

In the Darkness there is Truth
@Mirien Valdier
"Your life as you knew it is over. Citizen Naamah Aesham no longer exists. You are a ghost, an instrument of the Imperial will. This is where you will train. If you succeed your purpose will be to keep the Empire safe from its enemies," the man in black robes spoke, standing tall before her in the white sterile room. A camera hovered above them, taking the entire scene in.
"Dramatic. Do you learn those speeches by heart and practice in front of a mirror?" the girl asked mockingly, though she was strapped to a chair. She tried to struggle and thrash, but it was futile. A collar hung around her neck. She did not understand how it worked, but somehow it seemed to...leech the power out of her. The one that had made her feel so strong, but now she was caged and weak. She was not in the human form she normally assumed, with all the drugs in her system and the nervousness she was trying so hard to contain, she appeared as the reptilian she was. It made her feel exposed.
The dark man showed no reaction, not even amusement, his gaze remained impassive, his cold eyes seemed to bore into her. "What if I fail? Not that I would because I am amazing. Is there a retirement plan? Dropout programme?" she pressed on.
"If you fail, you die. Your powers make you a weapon. A weapon that does not function gets discarded," the Inquisitor said flatly. "Forget your past, forget your family. The Inquisition is the only home you will have."
Naamah attempted to shrug, straining against the bonds. It was difficult to focus, she tried to stretch out and grasp the power, but it eluded her. "Motivating. I have no family. Don't need one. So where's the big boss? My new Daddy or Mummy?"
At that she suddenly felt an iron grip tighten around her throat and she gasped for breath as the flow of oxygen was cut off. She felt pain, great pain as she failed to breathe before finally the assault ceased and she gasped. "What the hell was that?"
"You will learn discipline and comprehend your place in things. The useless, the undisciplined and the weak are weeded out and destroyed. The Force is a tool to serve," the Inquisitor spoke imperiously.
"Fine, fine. Can't even take a joke. Are we the ones really running the show then? Tricking mundanes. I always knew I was special."
She had barely spoken these words when the sensation of pain overcome her as her throat was held in another grip, more iron and merciless than before, as if it were being crushed. She was overcome by waves of nausea, feeling sick. "You do not yet comprehend your place in things. We are not Sith or Jedi, we exist to serve. But you will learn and be reforged." At that the Inquisitor turned, his heavy boots resounding on the cold floor.
"Hey, am I going to get lunch? Cup of tea. You know how important tea time is. Stimcaf?" Naamah called after him, but without sparing her a glance he stepped through the heavy durasteel door, opened by a wave of his hand, and it slammed shut behind him.
 
@Naamah Aesham

Mirien had been watching idly from the observation room, peering through the two way glass. Just watching, waiting. This one was cheeky. Thought she was a bright one. Might be useful. Might be needed. Maybe contacts we can use to further our cause.


Finally she hopped from her seat, booted feet padded across the floor and slowly she stepped outside, and a key card as well as her hand-print opened the door to the Interrogation room. "Interesting specimen I must admit." She gave a shrug as she crossed the floor to stand some three feet in front of the blonde. Her expression one of cold curiosity. Even standing there, the darkness filled the air around the blonde, so much so that even a mundane would have felt it. Mirien's doing of course. Best to have them in line quickly, fearful of her from the start. It made certain she didn't have to look over her shoulders to worry about the knife in her back later.

Her eyes slowly followed the woman's form, taking in the restraints, even down to the collar she now wore. "You wished for the big boss? We'll I'm here. So I suggest you speak quickly and stop wasting my time girl." Her tone icy, the look on her face even colder. Ice queen, maybe. It was just her nature.
 
In the Darkness there is Truth
@[member="Mirien Valdier"]

Naamah strained in her bonds when the big boss appeared. The nullifier leeched her connection to - well, apparently it was the Force or whatever - but even so the sheer darkness emanating from the woman was palpable. It seemed to envelope the room, both suffocating and intoxicating.

She could not quite decide which, but one thing was certain: this woman was power. Pure manifestation of power. Her voice was icy, it was perhaps Naamah's imagination but it seemed that with her coming the temperature had dropped abruptly, such was the cold chill of the power she had.

She did not seem thar much older than Naamah, but the girl could not help feeling small in her presence. Nonetheless, she could not quite resist being cheeky.


"So you're the mother of this twisted family!" she asked cockily. She was not feeling very obedient right now. "Why are we supposed to 'serve'? Unless that's marketing line. I get it: the mundanes want to control those with powers they don't have. Why are we supposed to let them?"

No doubt punishment would follow for insolence, but it seemed logical to her. Of course, if that was all a charade, the boss would not tell a minion.
 
@[member="Naamah Aesham"]

A small chuckle came as she watched the woman struggle against the restraints. "Your continued resistance is futile. You're not going to get free. Before its all over, you will be one of us." She said coldly.


Her lips twisted into a smirk. Raising her hand, and drawing the force into it, a pinch of her fingers and she sealed off the woman's air way, just briefly to watch her squirm. "And what family isn't a little twisted, yes?" She was grinning by the time she released the woman from her grasp.


"It's simple really. You serve, to avoid death. You like living, yes?" She asked. "Like power? We've got plenty. More than the Sith could dream of." The Sith were kittens in comparison with the Inquisition. Inquisition, monsters in their own right. "Who wouldn't want to serve? You're a weapon and you will be controlled or you'll perish here in this room ... All alone in the night."
 
In the Darkness there is Truth
@[member="Mirien Valdier"]

"Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated. We are assuming direct control. Our techniques will tear you apart." Naamah spoke, trying and not quite succeeding at imitating the icy tone of Mirien. "You got catchy lines." But any further attempt at snark was cut off when the air was sealed and she struggled for breath, squirming helplessly before the Grand Inquisitor before she was released.

Power, oh, yes. So much of it. Naamah was feeling part intimidated, part fascinated, part sort of turned on. She was not sure which feeling was prevalent at the moment, but the cold shiver down her spine did not leave her. "Twisted...yeah," she gasped.

"Well, never been with the Sith so I can't compare notes," she snarked. "And I figure you won't pay me a ticket." But then she fell silent as Mirien's words sunk in. She could snark and be cheeky, but she could see no way out after having spent so many years running.


For now at least. "What do you want from me?"
 
@[member="Naamah Aesham"]
Mirien only smiled to the snark, it was to be expected. After all she was the one holding all the cards here. And she merely watched as the woman gasped for air. "Don't even need catchy when I can kill you here without laying a finger on you."

She paused, thought for a moment, her eyes on the collar. "Didn't you ever wonder why you were quicker, faster, strong than the others around you? I imagine there were times that things happened, that you didn't expect.. Maybe even found frightening. You are a force user and that collar upon your neck leeches it from you." A smile bright now."Keeps you in control. And believe me there are far worse things I can have done to you."

Closing her eyes, it took great focus for what she was about to do. She reached within the woman's chest. Bringing up an image of the woman's lungs, carefully irritated them, forced a few spasms within. They'd be painful, force her to cough, feel like she was drowning, choking. "I, so do hope you are beginning to understand that you've no power here. It's you and me and a simple choice."

"No, but I'll let you hunt Sith, cut them into little pieces." A smirk on her lips, "Just bring me the head and I'll be oh so pleased."

Stepping forward, she leaned in close, her breath almost cold against the woman's ear. "I want your body, your mind, your soul. I want your utter devotion to the Empire. To me." She withdrew, "Anything less is a death."
 
In the Darkness there is Truth
@[member="Mirien Valdier"]

Naamah was overcome by painful spasms as Mirien unleashed her powers and tormented her lungs. She coughed painfully, feeling like she was drowning, more than that she was completely helpless and at the mercy of the Grand Inquisitor.

Who held her life in her grasp. She breathed heavily when she was finally allowed to catch her breath. Such power...control...exactly what had always eluded her since she had gone on the run. More than the simple mind tricks she had pulled off occasionally, so much more.

But there was something beyond the sheer force that Mirien displayed that resonated with the girl. It confirmed what Naamah had always thought of herself, what time and again had seemed obvious to her. Namely that she was special.

"Cut them into little pieces, huh? Deliver you their scalps?" Did she sound a bit intrigued or overeager? Perhaps.

"You...really should wear leather. Lots of it." She shuddered when the Inquisitor leaned close and she felt her cold breath. But...the coldness was not that unwelcome. Thinking clearly and focusing was difficult at this point...the sheer dark presence was proving almost overwhelmning.

Naamah was brash, cheeky, inexperienced, but not stupid, though she often acted like she was. She knew a few things, one of them being that she had nowhere else to go.

Here lay...control.

"Fine...you'll...you'll get it. I'm your little tool. What's the test? Bring you someone's head?"
 
@[member="Naamah Aesham"]

Mirien chuckles softly at the girls words. Then there was one small detail she felt she needed to inform her of. "I'm sure you've noticed, your back, and neck right around the base of your head is rather .. sore." She smirked, more than pleased to be the one holding all the cards, all the power. "Simply put, it's an implanted control device wired directly into your brain stem .... Run, and one press of a button and you'll be laying in a pile of your own drool until the control is switched off two ... And we will drag you back to be tortured, and reeducated. A painful process, believe me, one you do not wish to go through."


Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the simple control remote and for a second, only a second pressed a red button. Agonizing pain would race through Naamah's body, every nerve ending lit on fire. Then Mirien stopped. She'd proved her point, that she had complete control all the time ... ALL of the time. "There is a tracker in it as well .. and don't bother with EMP or ION devices, they'll only trigger the paralysis feature. And attempt surgical removal ... Well the results will be most unfortunately for you."

"And Leather my dear ..." She leaned in just so Naamah could hear her, "There is nothing I love more. I've two closets filled with such pleasureful leather outfits and delightful toys. A girl's gotta unwind sometime." She smirked, her eyes twinkling, confirming what she said was true. "Perhaps, if you are a very good girl you might see it one day..." Hinting at the possibilities that may or may not have been there. Mirien did like to toy with her new recruits after all. "For I do reward greatness, in the most wonderful of ways.

Lifting her wrist, she spoke into the comlink. "Prepare the prisoner for transport, minimal bindings, she knows her place now. Take her to the Citadel. Her test begins at dawn." Miren only waited a moment as two very large bulky men dressed in the same IIB uniform she was wearing entered the room and began to unbind the girl.

"Leave the drain collar, for I do not trust her yet." Mirien looked to the girl once more. "Trust is earned around here you see, and you will earn it tooth and nail for every tiny microgram of it that I give you, clear?" She demanded as them men started to undo the last of the restraints and pulled the girl to her feet. "See you at dawn." The brunette said coldly.

The question now became would the blonde survive the following morning, would she complete the task Mirien had planned for her, the first of many tests for the young and cheeky woman. For with this one, the Grand Inquisitor knew she could not budge an inch, harsh treatment was required to gain this one's attention and respect and she would have both by the end of it all. With Naamah eating out of her hand.
 
In the Darkness there is Truth
@[member="Mirien Valdier"]

Before Naamah could think of a witty or not so witty retort agonising pain surged through her body, every nerve seemingly on fire. It is said that in space no one can hear you scream, right now if the room had not been sound-proofed everyone in the corridor and beyond would have heard Naamah scream in pain, unable to resist, unable to do anything to save herself. Helpless and subject to the punishment the Grand Inquisitor would inflict upon her, much like a toy.

"Yeah...ok...," I get it, she gasped, shaking as the pain finally subsided, hanging limply in the chair like a spent, drained mess. "You...have control...I belong to you," she stammered meekly.

At the following words about leather, toys and rewards she shuddered. Her breathing became more ragged and uncontrolled. The power the woman seemed to wield so effortlessly over her was maddening, much as she rebelled against it. Perhaps she did not really want to resist...the Inquisition might mean a place to belong.

"Well, I do have some wicked skills," she winked at Mirien, though the sass seemed to have been drained out of her tone and she hung limply as the the burly 'IIB agents' grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly hauled her to her feet after undoing her restraints. Free from her bonds, but still leashed and collared like an animal, kept in check by the collar and the implanted control device.

"Yes, clear," she said quietly, almost in a whisper. The agents did not waste any time with pleasantries and dragged her out. To no doubt add to the discomfort and the feeling of having no control over her fate, one of them blindfolded her. Naamah put up a half-hearted struggle, but otherwise hung limply in their arms as they dragged her along the corridor or at least she thought it was one. One had the impression that they were deliberately dragging the process out, taking countless turns and moving through various hallways in order to further disorient her before she was finally brought to a hangar bay and they boarded a shuttle, whereupon she was tossed into the cargo hold and the blast door was slammed shut. There was a roar of engines and then the shuttle took off into the air.
 
@[member="Naamah Aesham"]

When the craft landed at the Citadel, it was strangely empty. Six presences could be felt in the force. Though five were weaker that one, less cold, less dark. Mirien.

Outside the castle, there were a few guards stationed at various locations, their presences in the force hidden, masked completely and unlikely to be felt at all. At least not by Naamah, but Mirien knew they were there. The men dumped unceremoniously Naamah out of the shuttle for truly they had little care for the woman's comfort. The men stepped back without a word, boarded the ship, and lifted off leaving Naamah alone.

The click of a single person's booted feet could be heard growing nearer, closer, circling her. Reaching down she ripped the blindfold off. And a simply wave of her hand the shackles fell away. For a moment Mirien only watched, her icy gaze seeming to look right through Naamah, her very secret and lie known to her. But Mirien truly could only sense so much. Fragments, here and there. Enough to piece together the woman's life.

Withdrawing, she reached out a hand to help Naamah to her feet. Likely the only kind gesture she would receive for some time from the cold master. She eyed the collar, and finally with one more motion it clattered to the ground.

"This is your first test. And far from your only test to prove your worth. Do not believe yourself so cunning to run, for there are many things in place to prevent such. And do not be so stupid to attack me, for you will die harshly, and swiftly." Her tone colder than ever if it was possible. Then the Grand Inquisitor looked off behind her. "This Citadel, is ancient and massive I might add. Within it today there are five others, besides yourself and I."A sigh came, for she hated to have to do this, hated to have to end such talent, such a resource, but if one could not be trusted....

"One is unworthy, unfaithful, disloyal and has failed me in so many ways. Though they are not aware of such believing them better than they really are. They have erred, and it needs correction. Find that one, and end them." She said firmly as she reached out handing Naamah two weapons, a slugthrower, and a crimson lightsaber.


"When you have completed the task, come find me. And we shall arrange for your next test." It seemed Mirien expected success and nothing less. Failure was not an option. Failure was to incur her wrath, and disloyalty, meant death. An important lesson for Naamah, she needed to know the cost should she stray. There were hundreds of Inquisitors and it seemed that Mirien watched them all, knew it all.

She paused, for there was one more thing she needed to say. "Oh, one more thing, give them an honorable death, respectful death for they were our brethren, and worthy of respect in their final moments. And finally, let them know why they are to die. Nothing is more important than that." It might have seemed strange for such a cold woman to seemed to care, to be concerned for exactly how one met their fate. But she'd come so close to the worst death imaginable. To die without a name, to die not knowing why, to die not knowing who she was. There was nothing worse in her eyes. Nothing.

Mirien turned and started to walk off slowly, "Do not fail me." She said flatly and went on her way. Crossing the Citadel, Miren moved far from the others and ascended the steps into the tower, into her personal office where the security cameras monitored everything. Her eyes watching the screens, waiting for Naamah to make her move.
 
In the Darkness there is Truth
@[member="Mirien Valdier"]

Naamah finally breathed freely as the collar cluttered to the ground, but then she paled slightly when she processed the test she had been given. Five Inquisitors, all trained in the use of this Force that set her above the mere mundanes, one of them a traitor. Or perhaps just someone who had pissed the Grand Inquisitor off. Or this was just some sort of sick test to throw a bunch of scorpions in a jar and see what would happen and who would make it out of it.

But the cold tone of the Grand Inquisitor made her shiver, that great chill that always seemed to set in whenever she was there. It repulsed and attracted Naamah in equal measure, much as she would like to deny the latter. But there was no doubt that the woman was dead serious in everything she said.

And she would end Naamah if she failed her. Now she existed because the Grand Inquisitor allowed it and would end if she demanded it.

Feth, she had just repeated the party slogan in her mind. This place was melting her brain cells, cutting pieces of her away with every slice. Slices...with a razor - Naamah happened to be quite good with those.

She took the weapons and looked at Mirien. For a moment she was tempted...true she would probably fail, but there was no one else there, as far as she could tell. She had a chance...and if she got killed...that might be better than...

But she made no move, as if she were frozen in place, unable to resist the pull - or just too practical and eager to survive. "I shall...do as you command, Mistress," she managed in a voice that sounded foreign to her, like she was talking on autopilot or someone else was in the driver's seat.

The Grand Inquisitor's insistence on giving the unfaithful one a good death and letting them know the reason for the deed perplexed. They're dead either way, not like it'll make them sleep easier, she thought. Nonetheless her eyes involuntarily trailed after Mirien as she ascended the stairs.

Then she took a deep breath and examined the lightsabre. Unlike a certain farmboy Naamah had enough good sense to hold the point end of the lightsabre away from her face when she pressed the activation button and the crimson blade sprang into existence. She beheld it with an expression of rapturous wonder, an incredulous smile crossing her lips. This was perhaps the most powerful weapon in the Galaxy, its mere name was the cause of awe, those that wielded it were often depicted as demigods, bestriding the Galaxy like colossi. Of course that was not so, for Naamah knew they died like anyone else, but still to wield it now made her feel...

Powerful.

She wanted to keep feeling her whole life like that and if that meant...pleasing the Grand Inquisitor, well...things could be worse.

I'll show you what I can do, she thought to herself as she practiced a few swings, though to be fair she was lucky not to hit herself with it. She put deactivated the sabre and hid it in her clothing. She was not trained in its use...the slugthrower was something she could use. Lightsabres could not deflect it...it might be the weapon to save her life.

The Citadel was dark and quiet, forebodingly so. Without knowing the layout she would have to rely on sheer instinct as she traversed the long, dimly lit corridors. The only illumination was provided by candles. Eventually she found what seemed to be the servant locker rooms, close to the kitchen. A plan already forming in her mind she broke open one of the lockers and retrieved a maiden's outfit after closing the door. Then she turned to face the mirror and closed her eyes briefly before opening them again, concentrating. She grimaced at the exertion, it clearly caused her pain, but soon scaly reptilian skin began to shift and soften, her pigmentation shifted, red hair sprouted and after a short process a red-haired human female with a demure expression stared back at her. She breathed in, unconsciously bringing up a finger to trace along her now very soft skin, then beheld her nails.

The smirk across her face was very smug. "This will do," she muttered to herself and quickly changed from her prisoner's garb into the outfit, hiding the lightsabre and the slugthrower. Her next destination was the kitchen, a good servant girl fetching a cup of delicious Atrisian tea for the zealous Inquisitors for their hard work. No one would suspect a girl like her.
 

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