- 25 Years before the Attack on the Jedi Temple....

>TS-127>>

>

<<…this will most likely be my last log as project lead of Specimen 003. I have made a critical error and will most likely be replaced as lead once all is revealed. Specimen 003 has grown beyond our control as an individual test subject. ‘Mrysti’ has adjusted to her environment. As part of the Alpha Pod, her behavior is night as it is to day. She is cooperative, controlled and well-situated. But alone and during training, her capability for destruction is quite surprising.

Yesterday, we ran a moving droid simulation against her. It was a cognitive test as well, testing her Force ability. Which has regained some of its viability; in cooperation with her immense physical prowess. To say it was successful would be an understatement. These targets were shooting back. At one point, 003 was struck by an errand blaster bolt from one of the targets she failed to eliminate entirely. The droid looked up from the ground and shot 003 in the back. The result…well, the result was much more than any of us anticipated. Her aggression levels were off the chart, the equipment we commonly use to monitor her vital systems shorted out. The holo-vid speaks for itself.

In the future, it is recommended that we use a durasteel enclosure as opposed to duracrete. Not that it would stop her. In our estimation we would only be delaying the inevitable by increasing the man-hours needed to break through. Even with steel, she would eventually destroy it. But the man-hour increase would allow researchers time to not only evaluate, but also decide how best to deal with an ‘off the rails’ unit. 003 reduced all four of the walls to absolute rubble.

It was also the first time any of us took the cover off the ‘button’. My finger was a hair away from activating the ‘killswitch’. Effectively terminating the project specimen. The only thing that stayed my hand was my attachment to ‘Mrysti’. I have grown fond of her. To terminate the project; meaning her, would not only destroy the project and all of the data we’ve collected. It would kill her. That was something I could not do. Even with the threat of her destroying everything, including us.

It was revealed that the reason behind her sudden destructive behavior was due to a chemical imbalance. Completely my fault. And I assume full responsibility for adjusting her levels of infusion on my own. We are so close to balancing her physical genetics and the Force power within her, I was seeking an easy and quick way to increase all of those levels. In my haste, I nearly killed us all.

But this has not all been in vain. And though I may have to sacrifice my position due to her chemical imbalance, it has brought up some interesting questions for future production. How do we…as researchers or even future control for these weapons, deal with them should they decide to go against their imbedded genetic programming. Project ‘Killswitch’ right now is the only viable option. But we seek alternatives. Something other than terminating a specimen outright. And I will most likely be heading that up once my tenure here is terminated.

It has been my greatest life’s accomplishment to oversee 003. I feel almost like a father to her in some way. I have watched her grow, nurtured her…she is now the ultimate weapon in a new arsenal for the Republic.

Personal Note: The sudden arrival of ‘Mrysti’ and ‘Karolin’ biological mother; a woman we thought dead; has initiated a move for the entire project. A much needed one in my opinion. We will be moving to the main labs on Coruscant to continue our research and development. The scientific part of me can’t help but be curious. Alexandra De’nabre, former Jedi Knight and both specimen’s mother would be a fascinating case study to compare and contrast both Karolin and Mrysti against. And would do much to explain some of the quirks we have seen in both girls. Are they project endowed quirks? Or merely genetic ‘hand-me-downs’ from the biological parent.

Hardiman, Project Lead, 003….>>

--

- Undisclosed Location: Korriban….many years later....

What should have been just another day was turning into a nightmare for the Taskmaster. He was behind on his personal project. Taking time on his own to finish it. For Mrysti, the lack of attention and missing his designated arrivals with her; it was turning into a day of days. Mrysti had long since ceased marking her wall. As she looked around the room there were dark streaks all around her, countless days she had spent in the cell. Some days she was free to roam around it, other days the Taskmaster kept her chained like a dog to the wall. Even with her superior strength she could not break free. Most days she didn’t have the will even if she wanted too.

But her will, like her power, was increasing. And not in a good way. Mrysti was finding the cravings almost irresistible. Looking for the times she was let out or that the Master paid her complete attention. Voices in her head increased and as she struggled to control them, she realized that they were getting the better of her during rest. When she slept, the voices and her power were free to roam. Her mind reaching out into the Force. Images of a life she knew nothing about. Names, faces, places she had been, but could not remember. It was driving her insane to have little bits and pieces of a complete picture, but not the entire portrait. Aggravating and inciting her to fits of rage. Though she was doing her very best to control it in the presence of her Master. He was the only attention she got and Mrysti did not want to jeopardize that. Coming to the realization during one of those fits how insignificant her Master was and that the power she possessed was more than enough to consume to little man.

Several things had changed, the Taskmaster now liked to hear her speak on occasion and he even ventured so far as to train her in the use of a vibrosword. On rare occasions he would take her from the cell to his ‘play room’. Clearing the decks to spar with her. Almost every time she overcame him, it was like a goal for her. If she overcame him, she got to be tied to the rack and then he would pleasure her. In his selfishness he always thought he was pleasuring himself, but that was never the case. On one occasion it got particularly violent. Mrysti had fallen asleep, simply bored by his attempts to get any response from her; she inadvertently drifted off. The result was more than she could possibly have asked for. The pain exquisite, but all for naught as the Taskmaster eventually tired out and simply left her there. She slept in the rack overnight waking the next morning to the sounds of machinery nearby. The Master was busy building something, but she had no idea what it was. He would never tell her. And she never asked. 

As she sat in the cell watching the tiny beam of sunlight near the mark on the wall that would signal his arrival, she stood, straightening herself as usual. The beam passed the mark and then went to a further point down the wall. It was the first time in memory that the Taskmaster had missed an appointment to come and release her from the cell. She looked around curiously, finally going to the window in the door and looking out. Mrysti pressed her face against the iron bars to catch a glimpse of anything, seeing nothing but the corridor. Backing up, curiosity ate at her. In the background, the sound of machinery and tools. She reached out, could feel the Master hard at work building something. But not in the ‘play area’. After a moment, Mrysti pressed her face against the bars again. This time calling out.

“Master!....Master, where are you?” There was no sound, then she heard a shuffling and the closing of an adjacent door she knew nothing about. Machinery died down and eventually cut off. Dusty and grimy, the Master walked up to the thick door holding his prize. Smacking the bars angrily with the wood he was carrying.

“Who told you to speak?!?! And why are you pressed against that door? Can’t you see I’m busy?!?!” After giving a wry smile Mrysti backed up straightening, she was ready to come out. But the Master did not jingle the keys. He did not unlock the door. She stood for a long moment wondering what was going on. An evil smile coming to her lips she realized it must be a game. Pressing herself against the door again, she called out to him in the most seductive sultry voice she could muster. Purring his title, she licked her lips.

“Maaaaasssster. You’re not growing tired of me are you? I’m waiting for yooooooou.” The shuffling sound began again as the Taskmaster scooted around the corner peering at her. He was fully aware of the Monster he created. Mrysti was insatiable, it was the reason he had to get his ‘project’ finished as soon as he could. Pouring water over his head from the container he held, he squinted through it to look at her. Water washed down over his face and the gold piercings denoting his position within the Sith Pureblood hierarchy. There weren’t many pieces of jewelry.

“Yes…yes. I hear you!!! We are not going to play today! I’m busy….now quiet down or I will not feed you!” Mrysti stepped back in a huff folding her arms across her chest. She poked her lips out sadly. Mrysti didn’t want food, she wanted to play. Slowly her anger began to build deciding on one more subtle attempt to try and lure her Master in. Pressing against the door again, she cooed at him softly.

“It’s been lonely without you…I have been thinking about you all night…can’t you please unlock the door so we can play?” The Taskmaster threw the container on the ground spilling its contents. Angrily he went to the door, standing up on tip toes to peer at her through the porthole.

“NO!!! I’m working on something!!! I don’t have time for you today!!! Why I ever allowed you to begin speech…is BEYOND ME!!!” The Taskmaster stepped back from the door as Mrysti did the same. The rage welling up inside her, she clenched her fist. Sucking in a breath, the power in her starting to rise to a pitch, Mrysti began screaming at the top of her lungs. The Force inadvertently added emphasis to her scream as the door began to rattle on its hinges.

“YOU MAKE TIME, YOU MISERABLE KRIFFER!!! YOU MAKE TIME FOR ME!!!!” Hurling her body against the door it rattled harshly threatening to come off the frame. The Taskmaster stepped back into the corridor. Fear seizing him seeing the solid door nearly come apart so violently. Shaking his head, The Taskmaster knew he had to get control of her quickly or all was lost for him. Mrysti hurled herself against the door again and again, until he finally raised his voice over the noise.

“Alright!!! You Miserable Bitch!!! You want to play? I’ll play….step back from the door!” Mrysti bit her bottom lip as she smiled brightly, almost giddy with excitement. Hearing the jingle of the keys she nearly wet herself, but took a deep breath and gained control. Half tempted to hurl herself at him, but that was not his way. Never had she willingly given herself to him. The door flung open with more of a creak than usual as the Taskmaster's shadow loomed down over her.

Mrysti kneeled submissively as an apology for making such a ruckus. Reaching down he snatched her by her hair turning her face up toward him. “You wanna play??? Huh? Do you?!?!” She smiled wickedly; eyes softly closed. The Master never pulled her head back without having something to put in her mouth and she could only surmise what was coming next. Opening her mouth willingly. As she suspected he tipped the container of vinegar up and over her face to pour down her throat as she gasped for air. “Drink it!!! Drink it, you Bitch….” The sensation of almost drowning from such a vile liquid set her heart aflame as she primed herself for the rest of the entertainment. Still holding her hair, he pulled her from the tiny cell dragging her down the corridor.

Pretending to struggle, Mrysti touched his hand on her head and felt something. It was like a dark spot on her soul. For years, The Taskmaster forbid her from touching him without permission. The feeling she received, it made her pull her hands away. Regret. ‘Was that…regret?’ ‘Did he actually feel regret for what he was about to do?’ And fatigue? Mrysti’s face twisted angrily. The Master was forcing himself to do all of it.

Pulling her up to the rack, he flipped her around. With her help. The rack was standing prominently in the center of the room. Mrysti looked back at him strangely before mounting the rack. The feeling she received in the Force after touching his hand still eating away at her. The Taskmaster half-heartedly positioned her, reaching down to unfasten the straps and position her legs. Mrysti faced away from him as she always did, but she could still feel it. After tasting the feeling, she no longer needed to touch him. It oozed off of him. Regret, pain, fatigue. And something else….Mrysti shook her head. She didn’t know what it felt like. Though the last part of the feeling was familiar.

A flash of light in her mind made her grimace. Memories came flooding back making her utter a whimper. A face. Young, male. Smiling at her. It was connected to the last part of the feeling emanating from her Master. The Taskmaster continued his work. Reaching up, he unfastened the straps near her wrists and looked over. He wasn’t into any of what he was doing. Faking all of it to simply placate her. Moving away, he pulled the whip down from his torture rack of different implements. When he turned back, he froze in place. For the first time ever, Mrysti turned in the rack. Facing him.

“What are you doing Master? Do I not please you anymore…why are you acting this way?!?!” He was stunned. She was facing him. Speaking out loud. A feeling of dread starting to overtake him, he swallowed hard. Quickly, snapping the whip at Mrysti to get control of the situation and waylay his fear. The question she asked, her face, Mrysti sensed the fear. What was once an oblivious and genuine question turned sour. A wicked smile etching its way across her features. She sensed it. The fear. And it began to fuel her.

The Taskmaster whipped toward her again. This time directly toward her back. The end of the whip and the gimble on the end wrapped up and around her arm. Mrysti jerked the implement from his grasp. Letting go of the whip; the look of shock on his face was more than she could stand. Fear. The sweet and luring taste of it. It felt like a tingly syrup pouring itself over her. And she reveled in it.

Taking a step forward, Mrysti moved toward him stepping down off the rack. The fear blinding her, feeding her. “What’s wrong Master? Don’t you want me anymore…?” The sweet demure voice gave way to something more sinister. Almost sarcastic as she moved slowly toward him, coiling the whip in her hand as she seen her Master do so many times before after he was done using it. The leatheris of it groaned in her grasp. Mrysti tightening the whip around her hand. Gritting her teeth as she spoke Mrysti uncoiled it suddenly with a flash of her wrist. Releasing it from her hand, holding the handle tight. It snapped loudly. More loudly than she ever heard it snap across her skin. Exciting her, Mrysti’s eyes flashed. Snapping it again, closer to him, Mrysti watched the Taskmaster back up toward the ‘tool rack’. His eyes wide with fear. He raised his hands up defensively.

“Don’t!!! Stay Back!! I’m warning you…” Mrysti snapped the whip harshly on the stone once again.

“Warning me of what….Master? You’ll do what?!?!” Power coursed through her. She could feel it, infusing her. The Taskmaster’s fear, all of his emotions exciting her. She needed more.

Continuing to approach him, the Taskmaster looked around quickly for something, anything. His arms and hands scrambling loudly across the tool rack behind him. Mrysti continued to stalk, stepping down off the raised area of the play area. The Taskmaster stumbled and fell, moving around to the side of the rack. Drunk on power, the power that he gave her, Mrysti stopped and watched him. Her eyes boring into him. All thoughts of the last emotion she felt in him, gone. The feelings were turning sour. Narrowing her eyes, Mrysti began to see how very small and insignificant he was. The Taskmaster snatched a club off the tool rack, holding it out toward her. His hands shaking uncontrollably as he tried to ward her off.

“S-stay back…” Mrysti gestured at the club with her free hand. The weapon snatching itself away from his hand. Mrysti closed the distance quickly. In a flash, moving through the Force. His eyes were still on the club as it sailed to the far corner of the room. Grabbing the front of his dusty tunic, Mrysti lifted him with pure strength. Looking down to see his feet dangle in air. She smiled to herself. Power she denied, power she hid from him. All of it suddenly raw and at her command. Slowly she moved him toward her, bending her powerful arm. The muscles under the skin tensing and flexing as she controlled him. Bringing his face close to hers, she smiled puckering her lips to kiss his nose gently. A wicked smile coming back to her face after she kissed him. A voice, harsh and low. Her voice. It surprised her as she spoke to him.

“So many times….you failed to please me. So many times…I wanted nothing more than to be close to you and you fail…time and time again.” Lifting him up, Mrysti slung and tossed the Taskmaster over her shoulder. He landed squarely on the rack she formerly occupied. Mrysti moving in a blur once again in the Force. She was on top of him in an instant. Pushing him down, she forced the Taskmaster on the rack. Looking left, then right. The bindings he once used to keep her in place moving on their own in the Force. Latching closed around the Taskmaster’s arms and legs. “Now….you miserable wretch, it’s my turn. You WILL pleasure me now…until you die. And then you will pleasure me some more.”

With the Force of a Thousand Angry Wills that echoed and spoke in her mind, Mrysti stepped back smiling. Bringing the whip down across his body as she let out a pleasurable scream. It felt good. Better than it ever felt when he did it against her. The Taskmaster screamed in pain. Pausing, Mrysti realized the clothing he wore was blocking too much. Gesturing again with her free hand, the garments on his body ripped and shred away. Flying to the far corner of the room. He was naked as he always had her. Naked and free to receive everything she was willing to give. Though there was no ‘will’ involved.

Time seemed to stop for her as she whipped and beat her Master ferociously. Again, and again, with each strike she felt a shock of pleasure streak through her. Crying out with each blow in time with his own scream of utter pain and terror. Mrysti grew faster and impatient with her strikes. The initial excitement wearing thin as his cries of pain started to give way to unconsciousness. Finally, the Taskmaster stopped responding all together.

Shaking her head to break the trance, Mrysti’s vision cleared of the red tint that clouded it. Moving up, Mrysti placed her hand to his throat feeling his pulse, it was faint. The Taskmaster passed out. Smiling wickedly, Mrysti dropped the whip moving to the torture rack that held his various devices. Rummaging, taking her time to pick her favorites. The Taskmaster used all of them on her at some point. He finally turned his head slightly.

“P-p-p..uuuulleeasssse.” Mrysti removed a particularly nasty cylindrical device off the wall. Activating its mechanism with her hand as she held it in the other. Her eyes wide with glee; spikes jutted from hidden ports on the surface. The smooth surface of the device marred by the sudden ejection of the spikes. Mrysti turned the base. Its smooth surface hiding another neat trick as it lit up. Lighting caressed her arm up and down the device. Mrysti moved it as a sword, looking over at him. Laying the tip of the device against her lips finally, to look at her prey.

“I was always particularly fond of this one…not the spikes, but the electricity…” She pushed the hidden button on it as lightning arched up its length once again. The spikes jutting in and out on their own. Jumping toward him in a flash of movement. A blur once again that was on him, all over him. Mrysti grabbed his face with the other hand, “NO!!! You don’t get to pass out on me!!! You don’t get to go to SLEEP!!!” Placing a hand on his chest she sent a surprising shockwave through his body that made him jump. Mrysti pulled the hand off and looked at it. No idea where that power came from. Lightning. It came from her body. She looked at the device in her other hand. There was no need for the electricity setting it possessed. But she was going to use it anyway. “That was a neat trick….I will save that for later.”

The lights seemed to go out for the Taskmaster as he slowly went in and out of consciousness. Mrysti busied herself with the torture device finding new ways to use it on her helpless Master. He gurgled again, barely able to speak, as she set to work.

--

As the Sun began to rise once again, the helpless man lay limp on the rack. Mrysti pulled the chair from the corner sitting herself down harshly to look at him. Every device on the holding rack lay scattered around him. Mrysti used literally everything at her disposal, including her own power to keep him alive and awake. In the end…it wasn’t enough. The hunger was beginning to get painful. And it annoyed her. The Taskmaster was not a very good plaything. Not like she was for him. Years and years of giving the man pleasure. Of bowing to his every whim. And that was the end of it. The man, she once thought him all powerful, all controlling. Reduced to a sniveling nothing. Barely able to hold her attention. Clinging to a thread of life. The taskmaster was weak. Fragile. Still she hungered. Mrysti needed more. More than he was able to give.

“Pathetic!!! Weak!!! Useless!!!” Mrysti stood from the chair flinging it backwards into the wall. “You are the absolute worst plaything I have ever had!!!” A moment of clarity hit her. Mrysti froze, looking up. ‘Did she ever have another plaything?’ The image flashed again. The same young man from her dreams. But he was no plaything. The familiar feeling, she sensed in her Master at the last before she overtook him, came back again. It made her sick, Mrysti grit her teeth. Her voice lowered to a whisper as she rocked back and forth looking toward him. Lost in her own insanity, “No fun at all.” Slowly the smile grew to her lips, the crimson from her Master’s blood on her full lips cresting her teeth. “There is nothing left to do then…”

In another flash, Mrysti was on him again. This time sitting on top. Legs folded under her. All of her strength, she brought the large blade from the tool rack. A blade he used to carve into her again and again. She bore the marks of his pleasure. Mrysti brought it above her head and down into the limp form. Bringing it home again, again and again. The blood from the carcass cascaded around her, on her, through her. Former excitement she felt initially, when she cracked her Taskmaster with the whip that first time shot through her again. Death, pain….the ultimate sensation.

Mrysti thought she heard herself screaming, but she couldn’t be sure as she ripped him apart. Fiercely peering down at him. Watching the last of her captor die by her hand. Something she wished and dreamed about in those moments he failed to please her. Worthless excuse for a humanoid. Worthless excuse for life. He no longer deserved it. Mrysti took from him the last thing he possessed. The last thing he would ever possess. And the last thing he had that was of any value to her.

It seemed to last forever. Mrysti’s blood lust satiated for the moment, she stepped down off of his body. Reaching up with the back of her hand, still holding the blade to wipe the gore from her face and her eyes. It smeared, warm and telling. Already starting to grow cold on her. The distant pang of hunger reminding her that she would need to see to it again. Mrysti looked over, there wasn’t much left. The Taskmaster looked like ‘nothing’ to her anymore. Fitting, in her deepest darkest dreams she saw him in that state many times before. It scared her. A time that seemed so far away from that moment. Fear once gripped her that she could be capable. Now, a fear that she commanded.

Dropping the knife, Mrysti reached over and touched his skin. Running her finger along what was once his arm. Taking the finger to put it in her mouth. The mouth was already full of her Taskmaster’s blood. But that taste, it was different. One she made herself take in order to make sure all of it was real in her mind. To ensure it was not just another dark dream in the depths of the cell she once occupied. Mrysti needed the taste, in her own way.

“Just like always…you taste so sweet to me, Baby…” Moving her hand over his eyes, Mrysti closed them for the last time. “You rest now. You did well…I have never been more satisfied than I am now.” In that final act, Mrysti knew there was no going back. She started laughing as she thought about the many times she had brought him back from the brink of death in the last…how long had it been? How long had she been there? Raising her hand, she shielded her eyes from the sun. It had risen again. For what she believed was the third time since it all began. A different kind of hunger hit her. She hadn’t eaten in three days.

After looking up at the sky and realizing she had no idea how long she had been there; Mrysti looked around curiously. Fatigue along with hunger setting in. Mrysti suddenly didn’t know where she was. Having already left the ‘play’ area to wander toward the corridor set into the open cliff side and past her cell. Realizing she had never consciously been outside that area. Only having extended her presence from inside the cell outside of the tiny alcove from time to time.

Still covered in her Master’s blood, Mrysti began to look around. Looking for a door; an exit, anything to get her outside of the space she knew in her mind’s eye for years. Opening one door, Mrysti walked in and stopped. The presence of the room hitting her hard. Her Master’s private living quarters.

Moving to a bureau, Mrysti began rummaging through his things. She flipped a trunk over after emptying the drawers of the bureau. Clothes and personal items. Nothing of substance. She froze, a sliver object on a pedestal caught her eye. Mrysti stared at it, standing to her full height before it. The power of the object or what it contained resonated with her. She stood mesmerized. Almost drunkenly she picked up the shaft holding it in her hand. ‘Was it a torture device?’ Something he had planned to use, but never did? It had buttons. She began pushing them as the blade suddenly came to life. The awesome Orange-burnt color of the blade hypnotized her as she moved it back and forth. The plasma of the blade bending the air around it. The sound low, vibrating with power as she moved it back and forth.

The flash was painful…..

Mrysti fell to the floor, still holding the blade. Her eyes wide from the sudden flash of pain. ‘What the hell had just happened?’ Her mind flashed an image at her. She forced whatever it was back; turning her attention back to the blade. Standing back up and moving it sideways and overhead listening to the sound of it.

Again the flash, put her down….

This time she closed her eyes. Dropping the still activated hilt; her hands falling to her knees. Closing her eyes tightly, Mrysti struggled against whatever pain it was. The tiny voices returned, as did the images. Images of another blade. Unlike the orange plasma of the one she found in her Master’s bedroom, this one was an emerald green. She saw herself, swinging it at some kind of practice target. The voices whispered; all of them talking at once. Mrysti screamed. Placing her hands over her ears.

“Stop, stop it!!! I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care…whatever it is you want to show me, I don’t care…”

Mrysti stood back up. Picking the hilt back up, she activated it once again. The orange glow of it close to her face. She only gazed at the nova. Hesitantly, she started to swing it again. Sending it through the bureau she ravaged a moment before. The light-blade sliced cleanly through the wood of the clothes chest. Edges of the wood continuing to burn where the orange plasma of the blade passed through. Raising it once again, she stared at it. They started again. The voices. Looking for the switch to turn off the ‘light-blade’, she crumbled under the full weight of the Force coming down upon her.

It was called….a Lightsaber.

The sledgehammer came down….

Lying on her back, Mrysti looked up at the ceiling of the spacecraft. Her own sword from a former life rolling away after the impact. Was it a memory? There was no spacecraft. There was no sword. It faded. She started shaking her head as the ceiling of the bedroom came back into focus.

“No No No No No…Im not here Im not here Im not here Im not here Im not here….”

Mrysti cupped her hands over her head and ears tightly. Softly, she began chanting to herself. Having no idea where any of it was coming from but knowing she didn’t like it. More, the silence of it and hated even worse not being in control of it. All of the power she possessed. Just coming to realize that there were things she could do and sense. An unseen power that she could manipulate and use however she saw fit. These were all things she could do all along. The voices told her so.

Slowly she opened her eyes, the rough ceiling of the Master’s personal chambers greeted her as well as the hum of the Lightsaber she had allowed to fall out of her hand. It rolled toward a tapestry in the corner of the room. Mrysti regained her senses. Sitting up, the smoke was already flooding the room and pouring into the hallway. The ‘Lightsaber’ caught the room on fire. And the fire was spreading rapidly. Reaching out to it, Mrysti summoned the blade. The saber sailed out of the flames into her hand. It seared the flesh as it landed squarely in her palm. Mrysti grimaced, only squeezing her hand around it tighter. The pain, a reminder that she was there. And alive. And now needed to escape the fire.

With a fluid motion she flipped the lightsaber in her hand, twisting it and turning it off simultaneously as she tucked it into her waist wrap. Smiling wickedly Mrysti arched an eyebrow. Glancing at the gleaming silver hilt that protruded from the slave’s waist wrap she wore.

“Now some memories I can live with….I guess I may have held one of those a time or two.”

Smoke followed the flow of air. Mrysti followed it. The cloud moving toward the path of least resistance and the way out. Being sucked under another door, Mrysti stopped, but quickly pressed the activation pad to open the portal. She ran from one passage to another, following the smoke as it finally emptied into a much larger area. Stopping, a wry smile coming to her face. All of the noise from the past few weeks finally made sense. What her Master had been working on revealed.

Tools and buckets of duracrete lay bare, some of it still needing to be poured. The frame of a structure being filled in. Electronics being wired into the frame and the semblance of a very tidy and neat cottage was beginning to take shape at the mouth entrance to the underground lair her Master called home. Smoke poured over her from the inside of the complex. Mrysti took a moment to gain a bit of clarity. Moving into the still being constructed house to take a closer look.

She saw the kitchen area, a fresher…finally the bedroom. It was built for two.

All of the feelings she got from her Master at the end made sense. The feelings she could not describe and that were so elusive suddenly became so very clear. Love. All of it was love. Love, was building the house. And the house, was being built for her. Mrysti laughed out loud.

“You poor, stupid, bastard…”

The tiny house was almost finished. Mrysti had no idea what he planned to do. Move her in. Keep her as a slave inside of the structure. None of it mattered. It was never going to happen. Love. Such a strong and powerful emotion. One that all of the other emotions could potential emerge from. Mrysti felt it, when she touched him as he drug her toward the torture rack. She felt it the first time she laid the whip across him in the flash of pain and the memory of a love she lost at some point. And she felt it the moment the last of his life’s blood cascaded onto her half-naked body with the stroke of her knife.

Remembering the night he branded her, Mrysti reached around her body running her hand over the raised skin of the rune burned into her skin. Remembering what her Master said. The rune, it held a significance for him. The ancient Sith rune for Love. He burned it into her. Making her his for all time. As the fire plumbed around behind her, Mrysti walked up to the shaky structure kicking the side of it lightly. It wasn’t well built, but it was the thought that counted. Shaking her head she laughed out loud again, looking up toward the smoke-filled sky.

“YOU POOR STUPID BASTARD!!!! YOU FELL IN LOVE!!!!.....”