-- 30 Years Prior to the Attack on the Jedi Temple....
-- Corellia, Jedi Orphanage; Secure Alpha Wing…
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https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FwmF4WBN.jpg [https://i.imgur.com/wmF4WBN.jpg]
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Transfer Report: Babies transferred from infant to toddler. Specimen 002 and 003 placed in Alpha Pod assignment. Alpha Project 28-92. Report specific: ‘Mrysti’; Specimen 003. A Five year old, Mirialan Female.
Physical: Unremarkable – IAW Mirialan toddler of similar age. Second of two, DNA chronological mapping places child as six minutes younger than Specimen 002.
Psychological: Unremarkable. Does appear more withdrawn than a child subject to orphanage environment than Specimen 002. Shuns physical contact, except for the company of Specimen 002
Force Sensitivity: Yes, Verified. Jedi Matron notified. Special Project parameters initiated for Force sensitive specimens.
Recommendation: Due to psychology of Specimen 003 and the fact she is part of a matched set; identical twin; project lead recommends special parameters extend to include physical DNA manipulation of specimen 003.
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<<”…this is Dr. Vizu Hardiman…second week of infusion required testing by protocol scale. Drone observation required due to the shyness of the specimen. Anytime I or one of my assistants are in Specimen 003 vicinity, she seems to clam up. Shut down to a large degree. When presented with a standard target or the workout area punching bags and training equipment, Specimen 003 seems to dissolve into her own little world. Her latest PSI on the bag scale puts her at 550 on the PSI scale. More than adequate and well above project expectations.
Punching target registered a PSI of 1100 on the adult scale; equivalent to a moving speeder hitting a durasteel wall going about 40 kilometers per hours. For her age and weight, Specimen 003 is performing well above expected norms. Psychologically, we have a long way to go. She seems only to relate in any way to her sister, shunning physical and presence contact with any other humanoids. Including Jedi matrons.
We have yet to tap her Force Sensitivity, instead choosing to focus on her physical enhancements. Tonight, we will be gassing both Specimen 003 and 002 in order to move them back to operations for the second phase of muscular-skeletal infusion. We will also take the opportunity to once again look inside the physical brain of 002 and apply genetic infusion protocols.
Hardiman, Specimen 003 Lead Scientist…”>>
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"You have no rights....you are no longer even a person....
https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FWWZxEf4.jpg [https://i.imgur.com/WWZxEf4.jpg]
- Korriban, Undisclosed Location....Second Month of Captivity....
Squatting down in the darkened room, Mrysti adjusted the wrap around her waist as she scrapped at the bowl of food left for her. Her Taskmaster always waited till she was sleeping to leave the food, so happily every time she woke, she was fed. As she scrapped, Mrysti looked up at the heavy door barring her exit. A slight beam of sunlight was just cresting the corner of the tiny window on the top center of the door. Mrysti followed the beam with her eyes. Watching the beam hit the far wall behind her. Mrysti glanced to the marks she made on the wall to measure the time by the sunlight. Not days or weeks; not even months. But time of day. It was really the only measure of time that mattered. When she would be fed, when she would have to bow while her cell was cleaned. When her ‘Taskmaster’ was coming to pay her visits.
Having recovered in captivity, Mrysti knew she was the possession of the Taskmaster for some time. Not exactly how long. But some time. With no memory of how she got there or who she was, measuring the time of day was all she could do. That act in itself was unexplainable. Mrysti knew how to do all manner of things. Mark a wall for time. Figure out Magnetic North. Stitch clothing and as it turned out when the need would arise, herself as well. Common memories. Utilitarian. But nothing that gave any clue as to where those useful memories came from or where she would have gotten them. And no memory of who or WHAT she was. The beam was approaching the second to last mark on the wall, it was almost time.
Mrysti stood and looked herself over. Licking her hand to wipe some of the grime off. She wondered what sickness the Taskmaster had in mind for her this time. With no way to look at her reflection, she had no way of knowing if she was presentable. At least her face. He called her 'ugly' or 'nasty' often. Yet, he continued to show her so much 'attention'. The beam slowly moved closer to the mark. Mrysti bent down and quickly scrapped at the durasteel bowl discarding it in the corner of the room and standing; adjusting her waist and breast wrap to wait. Arms hung to her side. Her head bowed all the way down, eyes locked to the floor. During those times, Mrysti looked herself over. Yes, she was ugly. The color of olive green. Tracts of scarring marred the surfaces, running criss-cross patterns all over her. And she was not soft. Why was she not soft? She wanted to be, for her Taskmaster. Hard tense muscle ran under the scarred skin. An ample bossom, something the 'Master' commented on regularly. Yes, she was ugly. Far too tall, far too chiseled and scarred for anyone to think her beautiful. Not worthy of her Master's time.
The lock on the door nosily started to rattle and she instinctively looked behind her at the beam of sunlight. Right on time. The slight Taskmaster was nothing if not prompt like clockwork.
Doing her due diligence, she did as always. Bowing her head low and closing her eyes. She was never allowed to look at her Taskmaster. Although she didn’t need to in order to know a little about him, he had beaten and tortured her enough. And in those moments she always caught glimpses of her Master.
A slight man, he was much shorter than Mrysti who towered over most males anyway. Not that she had seen any other people; she was never allowed any contact with anyone but her torturous Master. Short, balding…a terrifying squeaky voice that always seemed to penetrate her soul as he screamed at her. His skin was red. Like the fantasy stories of demons and devils she read about...somewhere? She couldn't remember, but the stories were there. Tendrils hung from his face. Ridges and piercings dotted his chin and forehead. It was a cultural thing for his red people. Mrysti couldn't remember the name. 'SEATH'. 'SLOTH'. It started with an 'S'.
As she stood silently the door made a loud squeal and creak as it opened. She heard the sound of the Master’s shuffling feet. His heavy breathing as he drew near and could sense the excitement of anticipation in him. Sense. Mrysti could actually 'feel' it. Something inside. It spoke to her, gave her presence to reach out and feel the environment around her. It was very sensitive when he approached. Almost as if her sense were drawn to him. Feeling his heartbeat increase as he looked at her. And she could 'feel' the look. The Master paced a circle around her, she felt his arousal looking her over, something he did so very often.
“Open your eyes…keep them to the floor, but look at what I am handing to you!!!” Mrysti opened her eyes, seeing a gloved hand holding something embroidered in gold and metal. It was slight and she kept just her gaze on it. Not venturing to move. “Take it!” Mrysti took it in her hands, but did not look at it only letting it fall in her hand to her side. “You will remove your clothing and put that on! NOW!” Raising her hand, this time to actually look at the slight thing she held; Mrysti turned the two pieces over in her hand. It was finely crafted. But only a metallic frame of a top, with a slight cloth covering the parts that he usually reserved for himself. The bottoms, no better. A slight frame for her waist. A simple cloth covering her loins. An image came to mind. Some one dancing. A woman, she had seen it before somewhere. A Dancer’s Outfit. Keeping her head low she stood a moment too long, unmoving as she tried to place the image.
Reaching out the Taskmaster slapped her hard across her face. Mrysti barely moved. She expected it after keeping him waiting. “Put it on!” With her head low she took a slight step back, using her hands to shimmy the waist wrap down off her hips and onto the floor. Again, Mrysti felt his arousal through the Force as his breathing slightly increased. She heard the Taskmaster lean back against the doorframe, just to take her all in. Smiling wickedly, Mrysti took her time putting the finely crafted Dancer’s Bottoms on, slowly moving them up and over the myriad of scars on her legs and twisting her hips slightly as she brought them up and over, tying the side at last. The Taskmaster almost seemed to stop breathing as he watched her, finally speaking after she had finished tying. “N-now…the top.” Still smiling wickedly, Mrysti kept her eyes closed as she reached behind her back releasing the clasp for her chest wrap, but allowing an answer to part her ample crimson lips.
“As you wish….[i]Master.” Being a little too quick for his taste in putting on the Dancer’s top, he reached over slapping her again, but saying nothing. The way she said 'Master. That got to him. Or the smile. Was she always supposed to look sad or disappointed? He was here. She needed him, needed the attention. The contact. Mrysti slowed down allowing him a full view of her front before slowly pulling it down and tying it in the back, the whole time keeping her eyes tightly shut. She placed her head back in a low bow, finally opening her eyes to cast them at the floor.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Now. Take this…put this on over it.” Again, his gloved hand came into view. This time he held a set of heavy robes. It confused Mrysti, it was not unusual for her Master to make her wear slight clothing or nothing at all. To hand her robes, she was taken aback; slightly confused. Slowly grabbing them as the Taskmaster released the robes, moving to the door. Then out and then closing it. For him, the real show was over. As he locked the door he stood on his tiptoes to look at her through the porthole. “Be dressed when I return…” Mrysti held the robes. Rough, brown. They held significance for some reason. Another memory flashed. She uttered the word. Elusive. In the wind. 'Jetti'. 'JEDAHI' It started with a 'J'. Quickly she started donning the robes having a little trouble. She had never worn robes before. Or had she? Not as far as she could remember.....
When he returned. Mrysti locked up again. Strightening the robe as best she could for him. Grabbing her neck, he jerked the large Mirialan downward. Latching a collar around her neck. Mrysti heard the chin attached to it hit the floor and then the jerk of movement. She was pulled, jerked toward the door. She had to move on her own. He didn't have the strength to move her. Excitement filled her. Out of the cell!! She was getting out again. Moving on her own to please him.
Moving through the darkened corridor Mrysti only watched her Master’s feet. Following him close as he led her down the all too familiar path, the collar and chain around her neck their only link to one another. Many times, she had traversed this path in chains or rope of some kind. To be walking freely with only the collar was a new experience for her. It was the direction to his Inner Sanctum or as he liked to refer to it, his ‘Play Room’.
An open courtyard, covered around all sides on the edge of the circular area. Upon entering, Mrysti did not immediately recognize the furnishings. It was different that last time. The rack he typically kept in the center of the yard for tying her and beating her on had been moved to the side. As had his shelving system that was always near-by, which contained his endless assortment of torture devices. All of it had been moved to the corner of the raised platform it sat on. In its place on the upper level another pedestal had been placed on the already elevated area. The Taskmaster turned, putting a hand on the top of her head. Stopping her.
“Watch my finger…” He sharply jutted a finger below her downcast eyes pointing a direction. “Get on the platform and then on the upper pedestal.” Mrysti bowed slightly, lifting her long brown robes to step over the edge and up the slight surrounding stairs to stand on it. Lifting her robes higher she got on the pedestal. Allowing her hands to rest against her sides she bowed her head lower, careful to make it appear she was not looking around. Although she had already surveyed the room in an instant and now knew where everything in it was. Something about her ability to do that, holographic almost in some way.
Mrysti sensed anger in the Taskmaster as he looked her over, a long silence ensuing after she climbed the pedestal. He stood in silence, watching her. If Mrysti didn’t have the 'sense' as her ally she almost would have thought he left the room. Mrysti heard the sound of flimsy, several sheaves of it. Jutting it forcefully under her downcast eyes he shook it several times. “Take it….and when I tell you, you will put it up to your face. Keep your face behind it, do not look at me!” Listening she heard his feet shuffle across the floor and a chair get scraped across it. Soon she heard his slight frame make the chair squeak slightly as he sat. “Now…look at the flimsy. Careful, you are not to look at me!” Mrysti brought her head up slowly, raising the flimsy at the same time to look at them and cover her face.
Around the edges of the flimsy pages she saw the outside of the room and something else new. In the corner near the new resting place of her Master’s torture rack, a pit surrounded by rocks. A fire burned. Large rods of metal were inserted into the flames, the ends burning brightly. “The words….you will sing them. You will sing them to me.” Mrysti looked at the words on the paper, her face contorting in confusion. She had never attempted to sing in her life. Or had she? Images of a Temple, warm and ornate. A soft green glow. Many stood in attendance. They sang praises to...'The Unity'. That was clear. 'Unity'. What was it. A familiar presence was near her in the memory. The Taskmaster cleared his throat and Mrysti came back to where she was. Why he wanted her to do this now was beyond her, but she knew better than to voice her concern. Clearing her throat, Mrysti hummed at first. Beginning the first lines on the paper.
“Flying away…in my harmony….flying away…in my harmony soooon to be set free…”
--
2 Years prior – Coruscant – The Jedi Temple...
Hamner chased Mrysti around the statue eventually catching her and tossing her playfully to the ground. Mrysti fought back only half-heartedly as her brother grabbed her legs wrestling her down. It was always a challenge for Hamner to get his Sister down, she was the second largest of the bunch. Of all the Alpha’s only Marstel was larger. For a woman, Mrysti was unusually tall and quite muscular. She shared most of her traits with her Sister Karolin, her good looks, her red eyes…her passion for things. But there was also the seriousness of both her and her Sister. The seriousness they both carried could melt a glacier, but so could their passions. For all of Mrysti’s tall, muscular presence she was a gentle giant. They quit the wrestling around, both her and Hamner sat on the front garden area in front of the Temple, their hands behind them propping them up in the grass. Mrysti smiled moving some of her red hair out of her eyes as she looked at Hamner lovingly through the locks.
“You wanted to talk…so talk!” Mrysti playfully elbowed her Brother. His demeanor turning serious as he remembered why he had called his Sister out of their daily meditations in the first place. Hamner looked away swallowing hard before turning his head to give her a weak smile. She instantly lost her beautiful smile, “What?”
“I have to leave.” Hamner took her hand sitting up and crossing his legs facing her, “But…I want you and Karolin to come with me. We don’t belong here Mrysti…we don’t!!!” Mrysti pulled her hand out of her brother’s slowly. She remembered his conversations with her about leaving the Temple and joining the Empire. There was something calling him to the Dark Side and his powers as well as his lessons were showing it.
The Empire had returned. Already assualting the Republic, reclaiming Korriban and starting to spread to worlds they originally reclaimed. It was what everyone on Coruscant and more importantly, the Jedi Temple, were talking about.
When Hamner approached Karolin about leaving, she flatly refused to talk to him about it; telling him, “The Force has a plan for us…you have to meditate on it and hope you get led the right direction.” That was the Jedi answer. The ‘Karolin’ answer was, “You’re an idiot Hamner…we were placed here for a reason. Besides RT will kick your ass if you leave. No Alpha has ever left the Republic and no Alpha ever will.”
“How do you know? Hamner…I-I…I can’t leave. My life is here….our lives are here.” Hamner got up roughly, looking down at his Sister.
“I just know…in fact I have proof. We are supposed to leave. We are destined to do it.” Mrysti looked down allowing her hands to flop in her lap. Finally, as she sighed Mrysti gave a resolved look.
“Ok…how? How do you know?” Hamner squatted down getting uncomfortably close.
“Karolin, you…even me. We have been engineered to be predisposed to use the Dark Side.” He looked up at the sky, still speaking to her closing his eyes to his surroundings. “Can’t you feel it? The pull….the call of it. We were meant for something more than this! Not to be sitting around here ‘meditating’ all day…” Hamner huffed getting up to pace away. Getting up to follow him, Mrysti had to admit what she had been hiding for so long. There was a call, perhaps not from the Force, but always a desire for something more. They were, superbeings engineered to be galactic heroes. Placing a hand on his shoulder Mrysti spoke softly.
“Yes….I HAVE felt it….I have felt it too….”
--
Years Later...Undisclosed Location, Korriban
As Mrysti sang, she could feel her Master’s anger rising through and behind the flimsy in front of her. She clutched the sides tightly continuing. Her voice cracking slightly. Partly from not ever having sang before, but mostly from the rising fury to her front.
“Flying gently….the Force will guide me….flying gently…the Force is my hope and my salvation.”
Noisily the chair scrapped across the duracrete floor as her Master flung it backward, “Jedi Bitch! You’re not going anywhere….you will never get free!...” Leaping up to the platform beside her, the Taskmaster grabbed Mrysti by her neck bending her down and pulling her off the higher pedestal. “Time to give you the lesson again…” Mrysti grinned wickedly, feinting her shock at having been ripped from the platform and drug by her neck down the circular surrounding stairs.
Hours of solitude, locked in her room it was attention she craved. Any kind of interaction. This was the part she most enjoyed, the attention her Master showed her. Not having any memory of it having ever been any other way, she was used to his tirades. Angrily he led her next to the fire, tossing her by her neck up and over the side of the torture rack. Her legs still touched the floor, her upper body bent over the top of it. Still grinning wickedly, she always hid her pleasure at having him shower her like that. Forcefully he ripped the robes off her upper body allowing them to hang by her firmly planted legs. Hazarding a glance behind her she heard the uncoiling of the whip, the tip scraping across the ground as she purred to herself softly, “Mmmmm…”. Before he said another word, the Taskmaster cracked the whip twice bringing it up and across her back finally. She arched her back, her head going up in joyous, shocking pain.
“You Jedi will never learn…but, you especially…you need to be reminded every day. Don’t you?!?!?” He brought the whip down again across her back, screaming this time, “DON’T YOU?!?!” She let out a small pleasurable whimper of pain, being careful not to let on how much she truly enjoyed it. Putting a little fright behind her voice she responded.
“Oh yes Master…e-everyday. I have to be shown everyday…”
Secretly, she smiled once again. The feeling of rippling power starting to course through her again. Sticky and wet, like the liquid down her back. It infused her, whispering in its way.
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Space – 25 Parsecs outside of Imperial Space, A Year and some Months earlier...
<<“I am only going to say this once…Hamner! Throttle back your engines and lower your shields…it’s over!”>>
Hamner moved his hands deftly over the controls glancing over at his Sister who also deftly worked the co-pilot's station. RT’s voice echoed over the internal speaker.
<<“Hamner! Stop now!”>>
Laying his hands on the control yoke, Hamner juked the control upward putting his ship into a spin and steep climb. Behind them, RT kept close in his own ship.
<<“You have no idea what you're doing do you?”>>
It was true, Hamner had no idea what he was doing. The flight from Coruscant, the escape from the Temple and the subsequent pursuit by their Brother RT was all unexpected. Looking at his scanner he saw RT break off pursuit moving his ship sharply to the right and away from them. Hamner looked over at Mrysti smiling.
“I guess he got the message. I knew he wouldn’t follow us into Imperial Territo—“
All at once the large asteroid collided with the ship. RT saw it coming and had no time to warn them, maybe he did and they just didn’t hear. The tiny ship crumpled under the asteroid as Mrysti’s side took the brunt of the impact. Both Hamner and his Sister were ripped from their seats and thrown violently into the rear bulkhead. Time seemed to slow for Mrysti as she sailed through the Bridge, her head violently striking the support beam above the separation hatch. Hamner looked up from the floor, his consciousness slowly coming and going. The last vision, was one of only his Sister’s legs lying on the floor. She struck the wall and fell between the Bridge and the Cargo Hold, lying halfway between both.
Her life half-way between the present and the afterlife.
--
Years Later....Undisclosed Location, Korriban
Breathing heavy, the Taskmaster dropped the whip speaking between labored breaths. He had given her a good fifty lashes with his whip and physically he was tiring out. “You…still…haven’t…learned…have…you?” Mrysti shook her head, her face still turned away. Laying a hand on her rear the Taskmaster propped himself up, looking at her back now stripped once again of the callused skin that grew back after each beating. Incredible healing capability in that one. He attributed to her Force ability. Something she obviously knew nothing about. Blood dripped off her sides and down onto the floor under her as he continued to breath heavy. “This…time. I will burn it into you. You will remember this time…”
Pushing off of Mrysti forcefully, the Taskmaster stumbled from exhaustion toward the fire picking one of the metal rods out of it. He held it up to his face allowing its glow to light his face smiling through slightly rotten teeth. On the end of the rod a metal rune glowed brightly with the heat from the fire. The rune, Sith in origin had significant meaning to the Taskmaster as he brought the rod close to Mrysti’s face showing her. Terrifying her. She feinted terror again, but in her mind burned curiosity. This was an odd play for her Master. He had never resorted to fire or burning her before. “See this…this makes you my Jedi Bitch forever…”
Moving back down the length of her long muscular body he stopped to look at her back, still holding the rod slightly at arm’s length to admire his handiwork with the whip. With a deliberate and precise motion he pressed the end with the glowing hot rune into the small of her back. The smell of burning skin and blood mixing with the air around them as Mrysti pushed up from the torture rack almost standing up. Holding herself up with her arms as she screamed in pain. It was a white hot, lightning sensation to her body. She had never been burned before let alone branded.
Holding it in place the Taskmaster pressed it harder into her skin one last time before pulling it off with a jerk. Mrysti almost cried. Not at the pain of having been branded, but that he stopped burning her. The lack of pain was like an old friend that left her. Mrysti whimpered as the Taskmaster tossed the rod angrily back into the fire, quite pleased that he had made her cry. The smell of flesh and fire wafted around them as slowly, she ventured a whisper…for the first time she talked back to her Taskmaster. A whisper at first, that grew into a hiss.
“More…Master. I need…more….”