To the Gates of Hell and Back--PM for invite

[Ardgal Raxis]

When we are done with you. You will be better than you ever dreamed was possible.

Ardgal tried to blink away the bright lights in his eyes, their intense glare scorching his corneas.

The suffering you go through will bring about peace to the galaxy, it will be the last thing you ever know. In many ways, you will stop feeling pain and in many more, you will suffer for the rest of your days.

He felt the air knocked out of him and the massive warrior doubled over, gasping for air.

It is only through this pain that you could or would ever learn to be anything more than you are right now.

He felt a second blow land on his mouth, filling it with blood.

So to do that, we have to break you.

You can't break me, I am a god, Ardgal said, spitting out a mouth full of blood, I am unbreakable.

I am sure you'd like to think so. Let's test that.

The general felt a surge of shock run through is body as he was jolted to consciousness once more. A cool layer of sweat covered his body as he felt himself panting for air. He looked at the clock next to his bed 03.55. He sat up and worked the kinks out of his neck, feeling his fibromyalgia already begin to take root as he struggled to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Christ," he muttered.

He fumbled for the comm on his bed, taking it with clumsy hands. It took all his will to depress the small button and open a channel.

"What?" Groaned a man's voice after a 3 second delay.

"Meds. Now."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Three minutes later the red-eyed Doctor Taylor made his way in the room to administer Ardgal's dosage of his meds. The needle pressed into his skin and a slow steady stream of what was only known as Chem Beta was delivered intravenously. And slowly, very slowly, as the medicine began to enter his body, the pain became manageable once more.

Ardgal could still feel chills through his body as his night terrors lingered in the back of his mind. "Doctor."

"Mmm?"

"Did you know what you were making?"

Taylor sighed, exasperated. "I--I--Don't know."

"Yes you do."

The physician rubbed his face and muttered something about the sanctity of feces, "Do you really want to do this now?"

"Yes."

The answer took a moment, "No, not at first. They told us we were researching a new cure for child leukemia, that there had been a breakthrough and they wanted us to complete it. Then when we were all gathered up in darkspace, they told us the truth. A few dissented. They were shot then and there. It was pretty clear we didn't have a choice anymore. So--yea. In a way," the doctor sat back and rubbed his forehead, as if it made the memories go away. "Answer your question?"

"Why did I live?"

"Jesus, Ardgal, come on."

"I'm serious," he looked at the doctor with cold, stern eyes, "Why me? Why me out of all the other? What did I do to earn the right to live while they died?"

"I'd hardly call what your doing living," Taylor said with a shake of his head, "But I don't know. No one does. You were the only one who did survive now is that good enough for you?"

The alarm clock went off by his bedside, Ardgal's free arm slammed it instantly. "No. And it never will be."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

Pumped full of drugs, Ardgal dressed himself as Taylor left to get the remainder of his night's sleep. Wearing a simple white tee shirt and black pants, he strode out of his room and ate in the mess hall alone. It was war he was preparing for, not a fashion show. When he was finished, he made his way to the security room and pulled the emergency alarm. Klaxons blared through the whole building. The sound of scurrying men and semi-panic rang through the metal halls.

He watched from the cameras as a sense of order was quickly lost and pandemonium broke out. In the halls where the recruits were, pushing turned to shoving and tramping the weak. A few blows were traded. Bodies collided and no one got anywhere fast. Shouts and screams of pain could be heard from where Ardgal was. What looked like blood in a few places was soon splattered across the walls and floors.

"Pathetic," he muttered before marching away.

"What is your problem?" His voice boomed as he turned the corner to the recruits, "You are the sorriest damn excuse for marines I have ever seen in my life. You are nothing but a bunch of losers, whining and crying for your mommas as you beat the crap out of each other to try and get away from danger!" everything halted as he roared over the Klaxons.

"You damn right better be glad this wasn't a real attack or you would all be dead, sorry mother fethers," he shouted, "You win as a team, you fight as a team, you stand up for your brothers beside you because alone you die. You would have all fought each other here until you died. Screw you, screw every one of you. You wanna be a marine?" he glared with harsh anger, "For this little pathetic display your all going to have to earn the right to even be considered recruits again. Welcome to hell, boys. And I am the devil."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The look of fear in their widening eyes was only dimmed by the smell of their horrified hormones wafting in the air. He saw a few gulp in horror. These men were fighters, former law enforcement, mercenaries, or even grunts. They had all received the offer to apply, applied, and were selected to become a part of a singular fighting Force with few equals. They all came from different backgrounds, Former members of the Republic, One Sith, or other massive government's machinery of conflict. They all had mouths to feed and that was what had brought them here, nothing grand or heroically epic.

But in Ardgal's eyes there was no goal more noble than to feed your family.

"To the yard, now you maggots, move your fething feet," he shouted as the Klaxons finally shut off. His words were followed by a shuffle as they hurried their way to the exits. Outside the still cool air of Iridonia's harsh deserts greeted them like a mistress' kiss. Ardgal was not impeded by the darkness, part of his alterations had made him quite able in the darkness, just as the light. A single trail led off to the west, into the harsh badlands of this unforgiving planet.

"Follow me men, you get left behind your a dead son of a queen," he shouted, "We don't come back for those who don't want the will to survive."

And like that, he began down the trail. Behind him, the men stumbled over unseen rocks, potholes, slippery sand pits, and struggled uphill and down hill. When the sun began her rise, it found the troops finally returning to their base, gasping and struggling for life. A surprising amount had survived, only a handful hadn't completed it. As Ardgal promised, no one returned for them, and they were never seen again.

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The file hit the table with a loud slap as the medical officer looked Ardgal as close to the eye as he could muster the courage to. He was a monster, and the monsters inside him hid behind his dark eyes. The general sat unaffected.

"I am serious, you are pushing them too hard," the physician insisted, "they cannot keep up with this level of intensity. We are getting complains, injuries, sprains, strains, dehydration, and heat stroke too often. You may be a super soldier, General, but with all due respect, these are just men."

"So am I," he said bluntly.

"I agree," chipped in the psychologist beside him, "The men are showing severe signs of depression, fatigue induced erosion of self-efficacy, and a lack of a sense of self. There is a lot of anger in the camp, and I think that could be causing some of the fights."

"That was the second point, this isn't a good idea, half the injuries we are treating are from fights," the doctor said, his voice raising in pitch with his fervor, "In the least, if you won't lighten the load of basic, then at least divide the former One Sith Troops from the former Republic troops."

Ardgal's face remained unchanged, "You said that the workout program I gave you was safe, that it would push them to their physical limits."

"Safe in a controlled environment, a gym not Iridonia's badlands. The heat adds too much strain on their bodies."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell their widows that. These men will go to war, you think they are going to be fighting in gyms?" he shook his head, "Ice, fire, hell, that is where war takes place."

"Not if they are too battered to make it to the battlefield," the doctor pushed back.

"Or too disparged to be able to work as a team," the psychologist added.

"So your saying they are broken?" Ardgal asked raising an eyebrow.

"Past broken," the psychologist answered, "We've had four nervous break downs this week already."

"Good, then its time for us to begin to build them as a team." the general turned to the envelope before him, opening it and tossing a series of paperclipped papers to the men before him, "Read tomorrow's schedule. We will break from Basic's normal transit to implement this."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The two medical professionals examined the packets they had been given for several minutes as Ardgal watched with a critical eye. He watched as their expressions changed from shock to approval, shock, and surprise again.

"In theory this would work," the psychologist said setting the pages down, 'But we need more than this to bring them together. We need more programs like this."

"Its dangerous, sir, very dangerous," the doctor said grimly, "If they fail we will lose 70% of the recruits we have and I doubt we could get them back. We may even lose more." He closed the papers, 'I cannot support this. I just can't."

"Noted," Ardgal turned to the psychologist, "Every week, at least once we will begin building programs like this. They win or they die."

"Sir, I said in theory there is still a strong chance that it wouldn't work at all," the psychologist cautioned him. "You need to be aware that even these things are highly volatile. Social relationships aren't totally a science, we need to take into account unseen variables like the troops who might still resist or resent the idea of working with those across the line."

"Did you miss the part about live explosives?"

"I wish I could believe that some of these men would take teamwork over certain death," the psychologist said wistfully, "but it just isn't the case."

"Then for their sake, let's hope so as well. Thank you, gentlemen, you are dismissed."

 

[Ardgal Raxis]

The doctor left immediately, but the psychologist hesitated. Ardgal looked at him with his dark brown eyes, 'You have something to add, Harrison?"

The man hesitated, "Sir, I know where you are coming from, I know that you mean well and want to see these men succeed, I have seen your track record, your men are often the best there is."

Ardgal arched an eyebrow, "But?"

"But are you sure that this level of intensity with breaking them is the right thing to do?"

"We live in dangerous times, Harrison, I wish that we had better choices at hand."

"As do I, sir."

"But as it stands, we don't have much of an option," he rose looking out the window behind him. Bellow their troops were training in the yard, doing burpies until they fainted, that was the command anyway by the drill sargents who were instructing them. "I remember Project: Madman. They beat us down, breaking us into powder. We were excellent before but when they got their hands on us they ground us down to powder to make us even better. Everything was about breaking the soldier within to re build us into even better soldiers. It hurt, it left scars, and it left us a sobbing mess but when we came out we were harder than before. Like tempered Beskar."

"I know," Harrison said, "But at what cost?"

Ardgal lowered his head, the question rang through his mind for several moments. "Dismissed, Harrison."

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to strike a nerve."

Ardgal didn't reply.

"I look forward to seeing how your exercise goes tomorrow."

With that, the general was alone once more.