Saga ~ Whispers of Wire ~ Dear Diary Challegen 2011, OCs, completed 12/14

Thank you, Azure.

---

[u]41.) 19 BBY[/u]


The yellow one is new. I wonder if she is the girl from back then. She is furious and knows how to inflict pain. That is okay, I have a lot of experience receiving it. That only makes her more angry. She calls down dread on me but it doesn't come. I have nothing left to dread.

So she calls on the usual pains again. I wonder what they are trying to achieve. I am done for. If my work is worth anything, it is has to be worth something without me. I want to laugh, but it is just a chocked noise. Even if they have my research, all of it, they can never have Mereel. And he will sure find the answer I couldn't fathom.

Yellow doesn't care about breaking points, she is pushing me there. Slowly. Of course, slowly, where would be the fun otherwise? Does she realise I know? Maybe the slump of my body tells her. Maybe the effort I am not making anymore tells her. I am just waiting for this to be over - one way or another.

She snorts and insults me. That I am weak and worth nothing. That I am a waste of space and her time. That she doesn't care what the men do when she leaves.

Doesn't she realise, I don't care? I know all about men - truly all. They cannot frighten me, only hurt me. Been there, done that. The black wire anchored in my heart pulls taut and I get up again. I don't know why, because there is no need to face the end standing up when you'll die lying down repeatedly. But I cannot let her think me beaten. I don't want to go out scared and broken. I want to go open-eyed; seeing, knowing and - shaking?

I can feel the shaking of the ground. Small and brittle at first, scuttling footsteps of tiny paws shaking the floors softly. And in the way they hold themselves I see the advancing of footsteps long awaited. Dread is on them now. They know it. Time is running out.

Frenzy, parts of it directed at me, spreading. And the shaking growing, parts of it coming from me. I can hear the dull thuds that vibrate in my bones more than the structure around me. Dark booms of doom. Some of them leave, facing the approaching storm and drowning in it. I don't want to be them. The storm doesn't know what they did; it doesn't care.

It swipes through the place and the yellow woman looks at me. I cannot see her eyes but I feel her think. This was a mistake. But she cannot give in. I see her muscles work in the way the plates shift subtly. She doesn't want to go down alone. But you can't take me with you, not the place you're going to. I cower, curl up like a spring.

She doesn't take the bait. She is not that stupid. But she doesn't have to. There is not much I could do and none of it includes covering the space between her and me. Staccato fire hums in my sore muscles and approaches with the thud of heavy boots. My whole world shakes and her determination, too.

Then she comes at me, vibro knife ready to rob the intruders of victory. But she doesn't know me and I know all about pain. As she thrusts at my throat, I bury her knife in my shoulder, clean cut right under the collarbone. I drop, taking the knife with me and her too before she realises and lets go.

Automatically I reach for the knife and feel her boot on my fingers. Down, pushing me down and down, but there is no small pain ahead if I meet the floor, only the knife. I chuckle, because she doesn't know and I am not broken. With a final kick the hilt of the knife snaps my clavicle.

The door bursts open with shuddering walls and there is a surprised sound as she tries to turn around, and neatly cuts her own throat on a knife in the process. A storm is raging behind her. I pull at the knife. These are but the big pains that heal easily. And there is a storm coming ravaging all in his way. My fingers curl around the hilt, this is mine. I get up as the yellow woman is methodically reduced to nothing, whirled around helplessly in a storm of white anger. I approach it. The end is mine. I am still here.

He is radiating black fire and as his arms close around me the predatory smile returns to my flayed lips. The plate

 

Powerful dark updates

 

Wow! Harsh! Brutal! A real surprise towards the end!

 

Thank you, earlybird.

You thought I'd let her die, Azure? But I need my narrator.

---

[u]42.) 19 BBY[/u]


I can't let go of the knife. My fingers are curled around it and they don't open. I stare at it while the room fills with people. There's one in black. I hope it's the same from the first rescue. I try to smile at him. Maybe he saw, there's a short nod, angry. He leaves. There is another one beside Kom'rk. He wears gold but is not Kal. His visor scans me and he puts down his backpack.

"He's a good medic," Kom'rk says. His hand closes around mine and softly pries the knife free. I look at him only half understanding. He puts his hand on my chest just above my left breast. It comes off all bloody. I cannot take it with my left hand. I reach out with the right, there is no knife I it. I stare.

"This might be a bit painful," a voice behind me says. I turn around. The man has taken off the helmet. He smiles. In his hand he offers me a collection of pills. "Mij Gilamar; Mando, medic, man with a grudge."

I tilt my head to the side. He holds up a bottle of water with the other hand. "Painkillers anyone?"

I take them from him and swallow obediently. He picks something that looks like a big injector and starts spreading grey stuff over my bleeding bits. It is painful. I think. Not really. Like you can feel the cells divide and reattaching and skin closing and it is not pleasant but burning. He turns me around and does not follow the weld on my back but systematically covers cuts and burns from top to bottom.

Something cold clings to my left shoulder and I am turned again. He still smiles and gives me a piece of cloth. I look down shortly and put it between my teeth. The collarbone is held in place by something that looks like duracrete. But I can move a little. My left arm is mostly limp.

Kom'rk handles me into a jumpsuit. I smile at them and Mij returns it with a grim smile of his own. He has seen worse. He has done worse. He killed another man of the Death Watch and disposed of him in a river. I approve.

The companion did not approve when she found out. She was beyond angry and I wonder if there was something like love between them. And when she found one of Kal's family she taunted him with their futile quest and their last lost hope. She did not know she was wrong. And she taunted the wrong clan.

I can see the black rage in his eyes still and the sheer determination to annihilate everything that dared happen to me, everybody who dared think of making something happen to me. He puts the knife back into my hand, the left one now, and my fingers tighten. I took this knife. The blood on it is mine. This is mine.

"I have a present for you," Kom'rk says. He takes my hand and leads me away. "Acun Gedyc."

Acun Gedyc. That is the name of the man in crimson. Acun Gedyc. I let it roll over my tongue and through my head. The crimson is only on armour plates as I follow Kom'rk, my fingers bouncing off his knuckle plate. But I don't have to have a firm grip on the gloved hand. It clamps around mine fast.

Come to think of it, this is the first present he' ever given to me.

 

I know that you are capable of a lot of things when writing a story, hon.

At least she is in good company again. But free she will never be. Even if she chooses to destroy her main tormentor.

 

Depends on your definition of 'free', Azure. I don't think much will haunt her now. She's been through too much to fear anything, certainly not demons from the past. ... you have no power over me...

---

[u]43.) 19 BBY[/u]


This is how I leave my legacy.

With a blaster in my hand staring down at crimson armour. It might not be his and then again it might. This man might just be unfortunate to have inherited it or an actual relative. I cannot care.

A storm of black rage pulls the helmet off his face. He is just a man and his features resemble the crimson I remember only if I want to. Eyes look at me, black and shot with red. I level the weapon at his face and feel my black storm embrace me.

"He deserves all that and more." This whisper of wire is going all through my body.

"[i]Ner cuy[/i]," I whisper back. "[i]Darasuum[/i]." And I pull the trigger and the face explodes into crimson pieces before my eyes. I wipe bits of it from my skin and turn into my storm.

Maybe this will have them all breathing down our necks, but how bad can that be? Crimson is gone. I can close my eyes and listen to the words of black whispered into my hair, weaving themselves into my soul; filaments of fire, framework of future. I put my arm around him.

"[i]Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar'tome[/i]."











You're mine. Forever.
We're one when we're together; we're one when we're apart. - First two lines of the Mandalorian marriage vow.

 

Perhaps she is too crazy to enjoy her freedom, true.



And the wedding vow, that really, really creeps me out.

Anyway, make sure that links to story updates and any fanfic of yours, INCLUDING ERIC, end up in my mail account.

 

WOW, stunning updates. That's how she regains her freedom?

 

Creepy, Azure?
And here I was considering this the most romantic thing since the invention of red roses. *le sigh*
Personally, I love that vow. One day, I'll find myself a geek and force him to say it.
Erik (and Charles) are currently done for. Actually, everything is currently done for except TRIDU which i shall get back too soon.


That's it, earlybird. More or less.
I think a few years of psychotherapy would do her good, but she's got Null ARCs which might just eb the same?

---

[u]Epilogue: Kom'rk[/u]



There is a litany reiterating itself in my head. Her voice like so many frozen nails, dropping on the ground around us in Kyrimorut. Simply touching upon memories of that memory is enough to make me angry. I want to be angry now.

She didn't look up the whole time. I don't think she could stop then, not once she started. Perfect recall is not a blessing, but the tiny voice lost in the kitchen of Kal'buir's house rings true inside my head. I thought of her as a kid then.
[i]
I don't know how old I was.[/i]

It was too late for that. A lot too late, but didn't realise it. Within two years they took her whole past and most of her humanity. She could have eased it all, she knows now, she knew back then. Their way would have been her way.
[i]
I didn't and then they did.[/i]

Sometimes her nightmares haunt my sleep but that is alright because it isn't my pain. It just makes me powerfully angry. The ideas some men get.
[i]
I even had to clean the blaster.[/i]

I know you can't drown memories in blood. But I have also learnt that you can drench them in blood and the taste of revenge. It helps. It doesn't make them good. It makes them bearable. There is a lot of blood ahead.

What I want ? what I [i]really [/i]want to do is use the knife, feel skin and muscles tear under the blade and see the blood spurt out. To feel the snapping of bone under my fingers, increase the pressure on the them until they splinter, smash them to pieces between my armour and theirs.

Their screams die within their helmets audible only to those who will not want to know. There is nothing but the forward movement and the slashing of the blades. They deserve all that and more. Vau had suggested a more subtle approach; I understand the reasoning, but it wouldn't do. It just wouldn't. It would have been way to easy. There are only so many ways to kill a sleeping person and none of them is satisfactory.

That they should dare. That they should [i]dare [/i]and have a base on Taris. That they should dare to take her. That they should dare to keep her [i]here[/i]. We sweep through the building, I know Vau and Mij split up behind me taking care of the corridors I discard. I have seen the plans of this place, and I know exactly where I would stash away prisoners.

The door opens and I can see Tera, covered in little else but blood and bruises a knife in her hand, broken bone poking through an open wound in her shoulder. Isabet Reau, her one boot covered in blood that should not be spilled, turns around but my fist is already up, vibroblades springing from the knuckle plate. She is dead before she can finish the turn. It doesn't matter. I have seen the blood on her and the look in Tera's eyes and the knife she holds. I have enough of an imagination to realise what happened.

Tera is not soft. She'd try to take the knife that is meant to take her life. And she did. I cannot tear my eyes of her as my hands tear through the seams of Reau's armour. Beskar does only so much when you wear separate plates. I know where the joints are. I know where [i]all [/i]the weaknesses are.

There is a heap of red and yellow debris lying at my feet as I finally pull Tera into my arms. It doesn't matter. There is only one thing that matters. "[i]Su cuy'gar[/i]."

Vau and Mij enter, Vau taking a look at Tera and moving on, probably killing something. The way he holds himself speaks of extreme anger I have seldom seen it on him. But I cannot worry about that now. Mij patches her up, a ba

 

You really, really make me thrill with feelings throughout the entire story, hon.

Thanks for writing something about the darker side of the soul.

And please send me links wherever, whenever you decide to write something again.