Star Wars: A Jedi, Broken (Luke The Observer x Bandeena)

[Doctor Manhattan]

It seemed to Vinrath that the whole fucking planet was a forest, or more accurately, a swamp. The male traipsed through the sticky, muddy waters gingerly, evincing the sound of a natural sea creature around these parts so as to not startle his quarry. Whether or not she could actually hear him and sense him, from his distance of about 60 meters, the man didn't know; her aura in the Force was strong, strong enough to call to him lit up like a beacon. If, and he told himself IF she was the one that would aide him, then it'd have to be on his own terms and not so easily. Jedi tended to fight back hard. Knights, doubly so.

Well, that was getting ahead of himself, he mused, climbing up near the ledge on which she rested, just slightly above the taller. He wouldn't be at a disadvantage for long, should he strike; a neat Force flip probably would work to reveal him mid-combat just fine, if it came to that. Vinrath wasn't exactly itching for a fight with her, even if he'd win; perhaps there were other options.

While he couldn't get a good glimpse of the woman from his peculiar angle looking up, save for a hint of her blonde locks, the Sith closed his eyes, mask on, letting himself open up wider to the currents of energy thar swirled in and around them. Hanging there, he was careful, oh so very precise, since he simultaneously used his powers to mask himself to her presence within the field. Just in case. She'd detect him otherwise and he had no desire for that, nor qualms about dealing with such either.

Curls, dirty but not pure blonde, sun-kissed and darkened. Mmm. He did like the shade, and as he suspected he might need a charge after the amount of Force power he utlized just to make himself small and listen sharply, dangling, his armor quietly rattling, pitch black with a touch of red. Same as the mask, and it was a frightening creation, very much in line with the history of his order past. To Darth Vinrath, it was mostly a curio, which he only used when he wanted to hide his eyes away, those blood-infused irises which gave the game away and announced him clearly as the last Sith in the galaxy proper. The hues burned permanenty, a corrosive side effect from his repeated access to the Dark Side along with the sinewy tracings that lined his forearms and up and down his stems. The Dark Side corrupted all, and him along with it. He'd keep paying the price, because the raw power was worth it.

Peeking at the girl again, Vinrath felt his single orange saber at his back, ready to be called into action if needed. At least, if in the end of this predatory tracking, he'd get a chance to reclaim his energy back from her hidden-away cunt, it would be likely a successful trip. What he did to her after was anyone's guess.

He did need a new apprentice, after all.

 

[Bandeena]

Jedi were being murdered. Leda Von was sure there was a pattern to it, but from the distant safety of Coruscant, she couldn't adequately investigate the crimes. But after the third Jedi had turned up dead on Scarif, the Masters had agreed something needed to be done. They sent out three Knights from a host of volunteers, one to each planet where the Jedi had disappeared. Leda, whose friend has been one of those killed, was assigned to Scarif.

Because it was an unknown danger, her padawan had been left on the ship, scanning the area for potential threats and keeping in touch through a comm. On the ground, Leda kept her hands ready to grasp the lightsabers at her hips, and sending out waves of querying Force energies as she went. One of the ones who had died had been a Knight she trained with named Kress, and their abilities had not been so different in magnitude that some degree of caution was warranted. More than a training partner, Kress had been a friend, and Leda felt she owed it to her to discover her killer. Knowing she was potentially in danger, Leda kept her senses alert, tuning into each life form she could sense to determine its threat levels. There were certainly some beasts in the brush that could be dangerous, but not to a Jedi Knight. Before coming out here, to the site of the murder, Leda had inspected Kress's body and found it to be battered almost beyond recognition. It was clear from looking at her corpse that she'd put up some great fight before succumbing to her assailant. No simple beast on Scarif could do that. It had to be targeted.

Leda was young, but she carried the same ageless quality that most Jedi of her rank did. She was dressed fairly typical of her rank, in a plain linen tunic belted at the waist, legs covered with tanned leather leggings, and functional boots that hugged her feet and calves. Rarely did she put her hood up, though the off-white half-cloak that she wore did have one, instead leaving her shaggy curls bared for the word to see. Her hair was a dark golden blonde, heavy curls falling just above her shoulders when dry, and cropped around her face to frame an oval jawline and stormy gray eyes. Her full lips curled up at the corners in a resting smile, but her eyebrows were currently drawn downward in focused concentration. Stern, but not humorless.

"Seely, I'm not picking up anything out here," she said into her commlink, ears pricked for sounds beyond that of nature. "Wait--stand by..." Something seemed to be moving through the water, but it was some distance behind her--she had trouble placing the sound exactly. Cautiously, she probed through the underbrush with the Force, looking for something. Anything.

But there was nothing, not a glimmer of lifeforce.

The suspicious absence was enough to make her draw a lightsaber and ignite it, the pale blue blade flickering to life; and holding it in her dominant hand, she plodded slowly forward on the muddy trail, her slender body assuming a guard stance. Her brows drew further into a frown as she focused, a wave of energy radiating outward from her like a stone dropped in a still pond. Still nothing. Did that mean there was a Force user nearby? If it did, she needed cover, and fast. A rogue Jedi was dangerous, if unlikely, and she was at a disadvantage with the unfamiliar landscape. However, there was an old abandoned research station that Kress had been investigating, looking for some as-yet uncovered Empire plans. Her body was found by her padawan almost a full week after she had been killed, largely because of how secluded the station was. Leda knew she was getting close to it, but her well-placed caution prevented her from pulling the map up and risking the distraction. She had done her homework and gathered as much information about the research station as she could, before venturing into the jungle to find it. If she was being watched, it seemed the best choice to try and level the playing field.

Another few minutes passed in silence as the Knight stepped gingerly through the muck, before she saw the sight she'd been hoping to see. There, through the trees, she spotted the old building, a decade of verdant growth turning it into a ruin. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she strained to pick up another unexplained noise, but with a steady deliberation, she was able to account for each and every sound she picked up. She was beginning to think she'd imagined it.

"Leda?" the voice of her Twi'lek padawan crackled to life in her ear, causing Leda to jump. "Are you okay?" She sounded scared. But she was young, still.

"Stand by and stick to the plan," Leda muttered. The plan was simple: to flee to Coruscant if Leda stopped communicating.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

So so close. He could practically smell her particular scent; surely she was clean, had used the fresher on-board or before setting out. Even with the morass of mucky swampwater and spotches of smelly mud all around, he caught the whiff. Sweet, tangy. He liked what hit him, those olfactory senses ignited behind the heat of the mask causing trickles of light sweat to mat his jet black, loose hair. Ordinarily loose, that was. In this state he had them firmly creased back so he could fit that all-concealing mask on.

She'd reached the carcass of the other. Never had a chance, that one, despite some fairly considerable skill with the blade. For a fully developed Dark Lord of the Sith? No, it was require a Master. Vinrath had worked hard to subdue the Jedi, and that effort cost him and weakened him greatly, the third of similar exertions. He would have run, left in a hurry and recovered on his own time, but they'd been quick, this new Council, sending another straight off. Well, rather, two. The one in the ship had that air of invincible youth, so confident and yet so pathetic, helplessly squirrled away as this one made her discoveries. The Jedi way of taking padawans made no sense to him. Better to take a student and push them to the edge and beyond straight away, so you'd learn their failures quickly.

But what did he know, Skywalker had that blasted school...and he had this, killing in secret whenever he could get away with it and a Jedi on his trail. Really, he was on hers though.

A crackle of the commlink, talking to the young one, and she hadn't noticed him. Yet. He could not hope to maintain the illusion for very long, especially mobile. What to do, what to do? He'd wanted to try and pull her with a flick and rearing back of his large, strong palms, through the Force, but she turned away from the edge, that familiar hiss and thrum of her lightsaber turning on thrilling him. Good, he hated it easy. Her Form was defensive, as was typical of her order, her kind. Never aggressive enough.

Vinrath sighed, preparing. Another bit of chatter. Nope, he hadn't been spotted, in or out of the Force, and that gave him enough liberty for his attempt. If he missed, at least he'd be propelling forward. There was nothing else for him.

Shooting up with the force and drawing his unstable saber up to his one, upside-down outstretched left hand as he inverted, Vinrath caught it ably and, firing the blade up, spung into a tuck and roll, aiming right at the woman's feet, as if he was trying to cut straight through her.

The hunt had begun in earnest; how good was his prey at fending off his kind of claws? Every muscle in his body tensed and uncoiled as he delivered his entire strength into the lunging blow, such that if he failed to hit the target of her ankles, at least he'd keep right on going and end up behind her. That was the hope. Vinrath huffed, roaring, eyes keen and intent on if not lethality then at least maiming or wounding her.

The unforgivable affront of being a Jedi had to be remedied, after all.

 

[Bandeena]

The pulse of Force energy from behind her rang loud and clear to Leda's senses, and she spun, her free hand dropping to the second lightsaber at her hip, and igniting it in one smooth motion. She was still defensive, holding both weapons before her as her eyes scanned the treeline for some movement. And there it was, her storm gray irises landing on and honing in on the figure hurting toward her with aggression clear in its intent. It was a swirl of black and red, the flickering orange of a lightsaber evident in the blur of motion, and a chilling thought froze her for almost a moment too long.

Thinking fast and shaking off her shock, she launched herself upwards and at him, using her own burst of Force energy to push off the ground and in the direction of her mystery assailant, adding a spin to it as she kicked out of the mud so that she turned in a cartwheel over him in midair. She was trying to dodge by jumping over him--it did appear to be a him--and in passing over him, she sent a wave of Force downward, hoping to slam him into the sticky morass beneath them, and carrying her further in the direction he had attacked from. Without seeing the results of her attack, she spun to land on her feet with a catlike grace, coming out of the spin in a crouch, and facing her attacker. The speed of her motions caused her cloak to flutter out behind her and crackle with the sharp motion of the wind flapping through it.

"Who are you?" She demanded, studying his appearance and confident bearing to try and learn more about him. He exuded danger, and he was clearly a Force user like she. Now that he had revealed himself, she could sense his connection to the Force, and it was like a dark void that threatened to consume her. He was built like a tank, and wore red and black armor that hung off him like a stylized cuirass, but what drew her eye was the mask on his face. She knew the stories of Sith, and everything about this menacing stranger fit the description. But the Sith were done, weren't they? Gone? Was this a pretender, or had she stumbled into a greater danger than she was equipped to handle?

Leda tightened her grip on her weapons, rising to her feet like a dancer, one saber raised above and behind her head, the other crossed in front of her. His move.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

Two blades, not just one, the second tearing free after the first. Well well, Vinrath hadn't planned for a workout, even when that realization that he'd have to tangle with another Force-user so soon after the murder had come to him, watching her ship land. Still, waste not and want not; he had energy and adrenaline in droves, and that sweet goal at the end to rid himself of the depletion that the red, crackling energies burning him inside and out caused was an endgame well worth pursuing.

She managed to avoid the obvious attack, and he expected the follow, a natural Force push to hit him with a thudding blast into the ground, right on his back as he twisted in mid-air, her slender legs curled up into her frame mid-leap. It wasn't delivered with hope of connection, he gathered quickly, slipping past, angling sideways, the efficient corkscrew that his forward corkscrew afforded allowing him to easily glide onto the currents and, planting his heels hard into the mud, catapult upright, spinning swift, facing her down. A neat trick, and clever, poised landing. This one had skill and some balance to go along with her grace. Hmm.

Her question was met with silence from the male, panting but in repose more or less, beady crimson-stained irises shifting, peering, picking up the signs and the clues. Settling into one saber angled ahead, toward him, and the other high and imposing, he surveyed, assessing fast. Makashi, or a variant, the second form ideal for dueling. Focused on avoiding disarming blows, the dual wield variation would give her defensive support out front while allowing her upper strikes to rain down in counterattacks and flurries. Agile, too, he noticed, build slim and athletic, fit for a Twi'lek pliancy when she moved up. Vinrath almost licked his lips, very much in his element and desirious of her destruction. Or worse.

He witnessed her trying to piece it together, cool sharp hues falling last to his grotesque visage. Could it be? It was, but she'd never know it. Again, Vinrath slid low, to stay out of reach of the second blade and engage the first, legs working to smash her toes if he connected. The blade, in one stable hand, slashed three times at her stomach, intricate movements efficient and tight, one swipe to go left, right, and left again. Finally, he tied it together with a Force pull, against her failed push, intent on ripping her back toward him to be left impaled on his dangerous, sizzling blade.

 

[Bandeena]

He was going low again, she noticed. Gathering up the strength in her legs, she prepared to leap backwards, but his forward momentum was faster than she initially judged, and she found herself changing her stance again to defend against his aggressive blows. Right, left, right, each blow was blocked with a speedy efficiency, though the force of his attacks caused her wrist to twinge in warning. She wouldn't be able to fight against him with this stance; he was too strong for her dominant arm alone. That was why Leda wielded two lightsabers; when she was in padawan training, she learned quickly to focus on her natural dexterity, but that happened at the expense of her strength. In this situation, her only hope would be to rely on her speed and defeat him quickly.

As she was processing all of this and blocking his assault, she almost missed the leg sweep, and she once more found herself airborne, though this time without the aid of the Force, as she jumped to dodge it. His finishing Force pull took her by surprise, and she had to twist awkwardly, dropping form, to angle out of the way of his lightsaber as she came hurtling toward him through the air. She was on course to crash into his shoulder with hers, so she continued spinning in a counterclockwise direction, bringing her arms in to tighten the rotation, and letting the momentum carry her into the pull, rolling down his outstretched arm and past him by several feet before she came to a skidding stop.

She immediately spun on her heel, bringing both of her weapons forward to block any incoming blows from behind. He had her on the defensive, but based on his apparent strength and presumed endurance, her only hope lay in becoming more offensive. Gray eyes flashed angrily, and she had to center herself, to find balance with the Force. It was easy for her to do so--her struggles with anger had long been overcome. Time seemed to slow as she let out a steady exhalation. Shifting her grip on her lightsabers once more, she assumed a crouch, and then dashed forward, throwing out a Force push as a sort of bubble before her, hoping to throw him off balance for the next attack. Spinning, she delivered two, then four, successive blows, all of them aimed for his torso.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

Vinrath personally despised that, unlike her predecessors, this particular Jedi Knight happened to be rather light on her feet and speedy, rendering any of his considerable strength advantage nearly obselete. Even with the small triumph of being able to push through enough to force a shift in how she stood, the female blocked his triple slash easily, rolling off the power inherent in the strikes. Terrific, Vinrath spat, literally, a great glob of saliva hitting the ground beside him. Too much moisture in the air, along with the nasty, mushy wet wilds of this place.

Scarif, what a shithole. Why a Jedi had been here in the first place, Vinrath could only assume that the erstwhile corpse near his boots had been seeking out information or relics from the Battle of Scarif, or to investigate the many Galactic Empire facilities that had secreted the first Death Star for a long while as it was constructed. Vinrath hated to admit that it beautiful if relatively small world, measuring just over nine thousand kilometers in diameter. It had a remote and isolated location in the Outer Rim, ideal for hiding away. Scarif was comprised of tropical, volcanic island chains rising from clear, shallow oceans teeming with life, surrounded by rocky archipelagos.

The pair of them, Jedi and Sith, currently fought in one of the numerous jungle canopies filled with wildlife, which offered natural protection. Vinrath wasn't fooled; the pretty exterior belied a dangerous predator population and many fierce beasts to boot. None were worse than him, versus her, however.

He had little stamina to keep going at this rate; she had that tightly compacted frame and the subtle hum of the Force to guide her acrobats and pinpoint spins, turns and quad attacks. He'd got her airbone at least, for all the good it did him, and he prepared for the Force blast that was sure to come, as it was the clearest option to try and keep him from getting good blocks to her whirlwing attacks. Her anger fed his, though, unawares, the Force charging around him. This was it; scew the lightsabers, he had two tricks up his sleeve, one perhaps even more effective than the other, flashier option.

One, two, three, four blows suffered against his orange light, the sounds of contact invigorating, a relic of a bygone age, this elegant dueling. Two at a time, she had stopped stumbling over her passivity and realized the threat. She didn't know he was a little weak, but he wouldn't give the game away, and if he had to expel his entire reserve of the Force in two go-for-broke bursts, it wouldn't matter long because he'd be caught. Not killed, no, and he'd likely escape in the worst case scenario - Jedis were above all that savagery. Vinrath, her friend had discovered to his cost, did not abide by the same rules.

Passion was the way of the Sith. He channeled that passion along with her rage while stepping backward, staggering after his tough defending and her blow through the Force but leaning into it with his backward momentum, and then, he decided to end this charade.

The first shot ended up being two absurdly large bursts of lighting, ripping through him and scarring his left arm horribly, a scream erupting from the pain. Such was the energy released, straight that her breasts, that he'd be paying for it for a while. But he wasn't done, oh no, not even stopping to check the result of this brute strategy before he drew every single atom of Force latencies about him and, hues shutting, taking a deep breath, used all of it to channel into one overriding, unquestioning command.

"SLEEP!"

 

[Bandeena]

When she sent out the Force push, it was with the hope that she would throw him off balance; instead, Leda's opponent appeared to weather the blow. But her eyes picked up him leaning back, his foot shifting in the mud--it was but a minor victory, but that crack in his armor sent a thrill of elation through her. Perhaps she was not so outclassed, then. Rather than grinning from the triumph boiling in her gut, she gritted her teeth and pushed her advantage.

To her eye, time was going slower than her body could react, as it did when she was one with the Force and combating a skilled opponent. It was the closest thing to precognition she could muster, and, as far as she knew, was the closest thing to precognition any Jedi could. Leda did it almost instinctively, and certainly effortlessly, even though it could be frustrating to see events she could do nothing about. As fate would have it, one such occurrence was about to befall her.

Leaning back into her Force push, Leda's adversary seemed to roll his shoulders and bring his arm up in an ominous stance that looked familiar, fingers outstretched and grasping. She had enough time to recognize, with terror, what was about to happen, and begin to react, before she was bathed in pain. The lightning that arced from his fingers to her body was blue-purple, and burned a path through the air with a crackling thunder. Her momentum was halted, and she lost control of her limbs, arms splayed outward and behind her. The pain was like fire writhing through her veins, every nerve aflame with the heat of the lightning. It was a betrayal of the Force, this attack against her, like a loyal hound that has turned upon its master, and being witness to such a betrayal shook her deeply. It was wrong. She fell to her knees, retaining enough control of her body to ball her hands into fists and snarl as time caught up and the lightning faltered, ending its connection to her kneeling figure. As if in response to the bleakness of her thoughts, her link to the Force also faltered...

...And then strengthened. The way of the Jedi was balance, she coached back to herself. Light, to balance the darkness. The first bolt of her foe's lightning was replaced by a second, and yet there was a bubble of calm about her as she kneeled in the mud, sheltered by the Force. With the brief reprieve, the Knight caught her breath and retrieved her weapons, reigniting them, with a blue hiss of energy. She got to her feet, glaring at the masked attacker as his lightning crackled and faded, ready to dive back into battle.

But the Sith attacker had different plans for her. She felt the disturbance in the Force before she recognized its purpose.

"SLEEP!"

The command was absolute.

To her credit, Leda wavered a moment and took two faltering steps, confusion clearly written on her brow, before giving in to the inevitable. Her heart beat once, twice, and then her eyelids fluttered. Her limbs were suddenly heavy, as if she were wearing training weights too heavy for her. A third heartbeat, and her eyelids too became heavy. She felt her legs give out, the weight of her body finally too great to bear, and when she blinked, there was cold mud up against the side of her face. And then there was darkness.

Leda fell prone into the mud like a ragdoll, a white figure threatened to be overwhelmed by the sticky black substance, completely unconscious. The safety features on her weapons caused them to go dim when they left her hands, yet the ambient heat still made them sizzle as they too fell into the mud. In her unhearing ear, the comm crackled to life. The voice of the young Seely'Ven came hesitantly through, "Leda, status?"

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

"Leda, status?" Ugh, he'd have to deal with the irritating child, too, though he didn't wish to kill that one. Not just yet; perhaps Vinrath felt it would be immensely boring to do so, as the young padawan had absolutely no chance to stand before him. Witness what had occurred to the teacher, he smirked internally, thoroughly pleased at his foresight of using the Force in such a manner, one which his opponent clearly had not expected at all. Excellent.

By the twin suns of Tatooine did he feel sore. Vinrath surveyed the damage; her last Force push had enough power behind it to damage his armor, small fissures and cracks lining from head to toe. It wasn't too bad and could be repaired easily enough, but still, he cursed himself for even allowing that much purchase to this one, whom he begrudingly had to admit impressed him with her guile and zeal, as well as her ability to pirouette and deflect his hammering blows.

Her facility with dealing with the lightning, though, really made him smile wickedly. Maybe, just maybe she'd realized what was going to happen, but wasn't as yet trained in deflection or absorption of such a perverted power, the kind of attack that was known to and used by the Sith only. It took an immense amount of ego to generate lightning, and also required a complete absence of empathy, as if you really had to mean it, when you let it fly. Vinrath was the kind of man who always meant it, always ready to destroy. This one, Leda, was just his latest victim, but certainly would not be the last.

Singe marks and burns permeated all over her prone frame, but he'd actually ripped her midriff open, showing her soft, light flesh there, so inviting. Vinrath frowned; already he foresaw a gigantic problem with what was rolling in his mind, for as badly as he needed to recover his spent energy, and as readily as the opportunity to do so pleasurably presented itself, if he also allowed this female to cum along with him, she'd be charged into the stratosphere and aching for round 2 to enact her vengeance. Any restraints, even on the interrogation chamber in his ship, wouldn't hold. Fuck. Careful and cautious, two things he hated to be, but had little choice lest he risk everything for a cheap thrill.

"Leda, please Master, say something," the voice called again, more desperate. Should he take care of that? No, he wanted to see what the other ship would do, and also had to at the very least drag Leda's body out of sight, and onto his ship, Death's Armada, an old Imperial Interceptor that he'd found mostly intact in one of the black market shipyards across the galaxy. It was fast and rather furious in terms of weapon output, along with the Sith-specific, Force-amplifying modifications he'd made, and those interrogation chambers would be useful.

The static from the comm crackled again, but Vinrath stopped caring, and just focused on his task of now dragging this form all the way across the swamp and into the Death's Armada's cargo hold and chambers as swiftly as he could, sighing because his Force felt so depleted.

Still, it was better than the alternative, and when he had her bound and alone...perhaps the real fun could begin.

Poor Leda would be wishing for a swift death by the time he was through with her. Grasping the neckline of the woman, he made his walk, shuffling, limp, exhausted but heady. He'd won the first round.

 

[Bandeena]

Dead weight, that's all Leda was, a bag of meat to be dragged through the mud.

"Sleep" had been the command, and sleep she did. And with sleep came dreams. They were rocky and fleeting things, memories: of the years of her training and her Master; the founding of the Praxeum; her youth on Coruscant, with parents in Imperial politics during the war and the fall of the Empire; her father's death, and yet her mother somehow knowing not to be home when the bomb went off; meeting the self-styled Jedi Kyle Katarn, and recognizing the need to train; her battle training with Kress on Yavin 4; Kress's bruised and battered body.

Swept away by the flood of memories, an eternity passed before Leda began coming back to herself. Lucidity was slow coming and gradual at first, and it came in the voice of her Master, providing insight to the scenes she was seeing. "Your mother knew to find me, Leda," he said, "in the same way she knew to leave Coruscant that day. Why didn't your father believe her? What was your name then? Irina? It was smart of your mother, to change your names when she fled. In the confusion you were presumed dead, weren't you? Or more importantly, she was presumed dead. Why do you think she found a place so quickly with the former Rebel Alliance? Your mother was a spy, wasn't she, Leda? Oh, she would never tell you, but you know, in the same way you know you're in trouble now."

His quiet, almost monotonous voice paused, and the scene shifted. Leda saw herself, aged 12, sitting cross legged before the man she'd just met. Her mother asked him to train her. She had been Leda for almost a year. Kyle's voice began again, "You had already learned to meditate when I met you. Our first lesson was to be that, but you surprised me. I asked you how much you had been taught." The scene shifted, and a young Leda was holding out an arm, concentration furrowing her brow, at a floating datapad. It moved smoothly through the air at a measured, steady pace, and she caught it. "You were a fast learner, but then again, so was I. You were a model student; you did not struggle as I did with the Dark Side. You have not struggled with it, not yet."

Blue-purple Force lightning crashed into the young Leda, and a scream was ripped from her lungs as her padawan robes were singed and smoldering at the hems. "Don't forget," her Master's voice echoed through her mind. The figure of Leda switched to a sapphire-hued female Twi'lek roughly the same age: Seely.

"No!" She cried out, dashing forward to shield her student with her own body. In the mud, the ragdoll form of Leda Von twitched violently, a single thrashing motion, and then lay limp again. In her subconscious, Seely's form disappeared, and she was again surrounded by darkness.

"You're sleeping," the voice of Kyle Katarn again intruded, and the scene shifted again, to one frozen in time. Leda, a shield of Force energy surrounding her as lightning battered it, the fiery tendrils skating across the surface as if seeking a chink in the armor. "I didn't teach you this," his voice came again. "Clever. What came next?"

"The command," she whispered, remembering it now. Sleep.

She was sleeping. Why was she sleeping and not dead, like Kress? She began to concentrate, and her Master's voice purred, "Good girl." The scene again faded to black. It was darkness, filled with terror, and she found herself quavering, shrinking in fear. Fear? "Fear leads to anger," his voice intrudes again upon her thoughts. "Didn't you conquer your anger?" She had. It had been her first real challenge, forgiving her mother for her father's death, and Master Katarn had been the one to guide her through finding peace with the loss. The darkness began to lighten to gray. "That's right," he encouraged, and the gray lightened to white, a soft white radiance of reassuring comfort. "Find the balance within yourself, and wake up."

In the grasp of her captor, Leda's figure mumbles and her head rolls loosely. Then she falls limp again, but her assailant would perhaps notice the Force energies gathering about her inert form. In her subconscious, she began to meditate, falling into her center, and remembering what her mother had taught her when she was barely past being a toddler. She was fighting. She would awaken soon.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

Having not the faintest clue as to what occurred in Leda's mind, Vinrath's focus fixed solely on that of her padawan, whose calls through the comms had gotten far more frantic.

"Please, Leda, answer! It's almost...the time you told me," the desperate voice crackled through again, unable to do anything it seemed. Why didn't the student come looking for the teacher? Based on what he heared, fainter as he kept scraping his Jedi captive along the path, Vinrath figured that she'd been told to depart. Possibly, lingering would be too risky, and if their opponent was out here in the Galaxy assassinating Jedi Knights one-by-one, what chance could a lone padawan possibly have?

None, that was the answer, and therefore Vinrath wasn't surprised to here the comms once more, extremely far back and to the right, as the cliffside circled to a walkway which led straight to his own ship, hidden away beneath the water. No, he'd not necessarily planned to leave it on purpose there, as dealing with the fallout of the water seeping in would be a possible issue that he'd like to avoid. However, the Death's Armada happened to have a triple reserve shell that could filter out even the worst of natural disasters, flooding or sinking included, and so he'd put that to test for the first time since solidifying ownership. And lo and behold, it held. Hence he was able to avoid detection here, on this forsaken swampy jungle planet, and it allowed him to make use of that fact discreetly now.

The girl had a brief, R.E.M. supported seizure, at least that is how he would describe it, writhing around back and forth despite his sharp and unbreakable hold. What did Jedi dream of? He wasn't sure, but whatever it may be, clearly it had an affect on the femme, deep psychological training and unconscious, unbidden thoughts colliding and crashing sharply together, probably to preserve her wits in the face of his unexpected, subtle but effective lashing out. Sleep. So simple and most Force users from either side of the spectrum never even thought of it as an option. Vinrath had used it so many times, he even got used to the sick thudding failure of his victims simply giving out. The Sith loved that sound.

Another hiss of something or other came from way back, as he was now very close to the ship, and then...he saw it, he saw the other vehicle lift up and depart. Run away, little Jedi, this is no place for you, Vinrath purred excitedly, very glad he hadn't just murdered the young one as well. Sure, the Council would know, and would come looking, but he'd be away from this planet with his prize in tow by then, far from their prying eyes. Fucking Jedi never learned. He'd teach them alright.

Well, he needed to ready his ship first.

Finally, he stopped, in front of the open swampwater that showed the outline of his beastly transport. Closing his voids, drawing up the Force as much as he could, Vinrath reached out with both hands and made the ship rise forcibly out of the water, which dripped and pooled off the outer hull, but did not invade past. Good. He'd have to drain the second and third layers, which were probably chock full of the liquid, and it might smell slightly until he air dried the entire thing, but well...no rush for all that.

Once he'd placed the entire craft gently on the back beside him, a small press into the keypad near the cargo hold allowed him to manually open the hatch, extending down and angularly. Then he seized the Jedi, Leda, again and brought her into the ship proper. Heading straight for his interrogation room, the Sith placed her onto the single table in the middle after the doors shut behind him, and strapped her into it, wrists and ankles. These were not restraints that could normally hold a Jedi, as soon as she awoke, but this entire 'operating table' along with the sharp metallic restraints was made of triple-reinforced Phrik, the strongest substance known to man within the universe. Even Beskar would barely dent it. Indestructable. Sidious had his lightsabers made from this metal, as legend goes. Vinrath could see why, tapping once or twice rather idly as if it would make sure.

She had nowhere to go and no means of escape, so for the first time Vinrath stared at the blonde, fine curls and tightly composed frame, and specifically his red orbs feel to that V shaped pearl between her skintight clothes, that hole that he wished to plunder so badly - but he had to be extremely careful to mitigate the risk, should either of them finish and release.

No. Not yet. Secure in the knowledge that she had no recource, and confident that he'd feel her in the Force when she did wake, Vinrath went to remove and clean his armor, fix what he could, and generally decompress after his trying day.

Now, however, he had a lot of potential fun as a reward. A lot. Leda was very literally fucked.

 

[Bandeena]

Seely'Ven was a young Twi'lek, perhaps 16, who was timid of personality, and kind. She carried a hidden strength that her mentor, Leda Von, could see, but she wasn't yet in touch with that part of herself. She knew she had no hope if Leda was gone. So she panicked, calling desperately right up until the agreed upon time. In the pilot's seat, she began powering up the shuttle that had brought them to this wretched place. Scarif. Seely would never forget her time on this planet.

Before taking off, she sent one final warning, her one last hope to hear Leda's voice crackle to life on the comm. A minute passed. Nothing.

So she took off. She left her Master.

On the ground, now trapped within her own body, largely aware, yet unfeeling of the world around her, Leda could sense the familiar aura of her padawan growing distant. Good. It meant she was alive, still, and that Seely would be safe from whatever fate had befallen her mentor. And Leda would have time to figure out her strategy, now fully lucid. Time had no sense to her in this place of pure white. It was minutes, hours, days. And she planned. She was trapped, but she was learning the rules of the world she was trapped within, and soon she could summon memories on demand, and experience them. Kyle's voice was no longer guiding her, so she talked to herself. She studied her memory of her fight with the masked Sith, froze time and picked out weaknesses she hadn't seen in the moment. His armor had been cracked, and his reactions slightly too slow--had he not been at his strongest? The thought was unnerving, trapped within her body and his custody.

She revisited her memories of the time Luke Skywalker had told his students about his battle with the Emperor. The Master had been before a crowd of students, delivering it almost as a prepared speech, but there was too much emotion in his voice. It was clear, in retrospect, how much of an impact the fight had on him. That was the last time she'd heard about force lightning, and the presentation had been a warning against the Dark Side of the Force, so it was spoken of as a distant, almost clinical thing. Leda could still feel the burning, and see her body encircled with dancing stripes of white-hot plasma, when she focused on it. Could she figure out another way to deflect it, perhaps?

After an eternity of nothing but idle thought, sensations began to intrude upon her peace. A cold, hard surface against her back. The ambient noises of a ship being started up. Yet still she was trapped. She could feel lucidity slipping away, and darkness began once more to intrude upon the light. In the end, she wouldn't remember why she woke up so quickly, just that the Force was with her. But for now, her eyes fluttered open, and then shut again. Now, she could hear her mother's voice, counting to ten, coaching her to breathe a certain way, to find the glowing core of peace within her. Vadoma had not been a Jedi, or even openly force sensitive, but she had taught herself enough to keep control. And she taught everything she knew to her young daughter, hoping to keep her secret from the government she served.

Leda's eyes fluttered open again, and she was met with a befuddling sight that she couldn't make sense of: the interior of a ship. A medical bay? Her eyes fell shut again, but this time she was grounded in her own body. She could feel the cold restraints around her wrists and ankles, the hard platform beneath her toned form. Her head hurt, and her skin was tingling all over, like she was charged with static electricity. Cool air stung an opening that had been torn on her midriff, bearing a webbed marking where she had been struck by lightning--she could only just see it past the rise of her breasts when she tilted her head to take a look at the damage sustained. Aside from the lightning strike and the compelling headache, however, she was okay. A bit dirty, with mud matted in her curls, but physically hale.

And then she sensed the presence.

It was a dark, almost oppressive, and she couldn't figure out how she had missed it before, when stalking her through the jungle. That is what he had been doing, after all, isn't it? He had to have some reason for keeping her a prisoner, if he was truly Sith. She didn't think Sith knew mercy. He would sense her too, she realized, now that she was awake.

Leda began struggling, furiously. It was something like panic that drove her, but she felt the reassuring hum of the Force behind her, and it settled her nerves some. Her wrists chafed against the cold metal, but she closed her eyes and reached out with her senses to explore the manacles and their locking mechanism. Her struggle turned inward as she used her mind to prise at the manacles to try and break or bend them, but it was fruitless. The metal was too hard, the lock too complicated. It would take time and patience to fiddle with the buttons until she found the one to unlock her. But now, she could feel him moving closer through the ship now. He knew she was awake, prodding at his machinery. As suddenly as it started, her physical struggling ceased; she would not look foolish in front of her adversary. She stopped exploring her bindings as well, pulling in and reserving her energy for the fight that was to come.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

The thing that Vinrath hated about Jedi was their sense of self-righteousness.

Even there, messing about with his ship, trying to make sure that he was in tip top shape, the male felt her, his captive, opening herself up to the energies that often swirled about, latent, until called for. Perhaps she checked on the state of her padawan, though he couldn't feel that. He did feel her examine the bindings, and smirked at her internal logic. The Force did not read like a book, no, not even for the most gifted of it's users. However, with enough attunement, one would be able to pick up impressions if nothing else, small bits of her feelings and even thoughts, though he didn't wish to peruse them in detail.

He'd learn all he needed to know soon enough.

On that note, he took his time, knowing that she was awake, and waiting for him. Well, waiting for a fight, more accurately, one that he didn't intend to give her, at least not right away. Sure, she had an out if she could use the Force to pick the locks on her restraints, but that would take time. She summoned recuperative, restorative energy into her body and that made Vinrath laugh, interally - if only she knew what kind of charge he could give her, to force her body to get all that expended energy right back. In due time.

Speaking of which, he felt immensely tired, and barely coherent, having fought two intense lightsaber battles today. Weirdly, the other Jedi, the one he'd killed, also got taken out by an unexpected Force move; in that case, Vinrath had stripped his armor mid-battle, ripping gauntlets and cod pieces and plates away fearlessly, not at all afraid to concretely expend whatever he needed to. Privately, the Sith believed that the ferocity and savagery of such an attack caught the Jedi unawares. He hadn't, of course, banked on the follow-up, a challenge to be sure. Combined it rendered him fairly...inert.

Before going to the chambers, the male took his time, slowly removing his own formidable armor, piece by black and red piece. That left him in his plain black tights, and he was amused to see that his member stayed flaccid, even whilst he had a perfect victim to spear with it in the next room over. Perhaps, the Sith pondered, it was just that he had yet to decide what he planned to do with the woman, and how, because the delicate risk of his desired action could easily turn back on him in a heartbeat.

So, first, he went to the cockpit and rose up into the night air, then space proper, setting a hyperspace route to the Outer Rim. When he engaged the hyperdrive, he knew it would be hours till they reached their destination and hopefully the Jedi would not guess where he'd headed, or so easily locate him again. No, Vinrath wanted as much time with the pretty woman as he could safely allow, for he had plans for her. Oh yes, did he have plans.

Finally, when he could stave off the next confrontation much longer, he went to the interrogation chambers and gazed at her plainly, ignoring her robes or what shapes of her outline he could see peeking through. The same rang true for the space between her lanky legs, which beckoned him needily, but he'd have to exert control over that part of her body, especially after her first sampling of the enormity of what his shocking discovery about ancient Force methodology long forgotten. One thing he picked up from his chambers on the way happened to be an old light whip, similar to a saber but that the crystals created a cascade of loose-looking whiptails, so it functioned much the same as one.

That was it, though.

Upon entering, the door shut behind him, eyes hard and fixed, whip at the ready. "What I want to know is - why were you sent here, just to investigate the other who had been killed. Shame," the male purred, "as even with your padawan left to tell the council what happened, and so we are alone. And no long in Scariff space," he added helpfully, diplaying his gleaming teet.

"I want to know everything there is to know about you, Leda, and your pet," he finished, sure to irriate her. Then the male fell silent, extremely curious to see what she might have to say.

If he didn't like the answers, Vinrath figured it didn't matter much as he'd take his answers from her hot mouth anyway.

 

[Bandeena]

Time passed silently. Leda found herself slipping into an easy meditation, distracted neither by her inglorious position nor by the danger of her predicament. She focused instead on healing, finding balance, finding peace. Through her mental barriers, she physically sensed the ship rumbling to life, and the light g-forces of it taking off. Good bye Scarif. Still, her stormgray eyes stayed closed, her attentions on the eddies and currents of the Force, trying to discover everything she could about the dark presence that had trapped her so efficiently. There was something, she could sense it now. An exhaustion. His presence was still a smothering darkness, but it wasn't the same sharp presence she had felt during their fight. Maybe he was going to keep her until he recovered? But no, by that time she would have found an escape. Maybe...could she hope he had underestimated her?

Opening her eyes and feeling rather at peace, Leda looked around and studied her surroundings. She was in a small room that looked like a medical bay, though from the instruments she could see, and from the actions of her foe, she suspected something more sinister. By this point, she had figured out the metal holding her in place was Phrik, so her attentions were turned fully to the electronics holding her in place. She began pressing buttons with her mind, trying to make informed decisions based on the currents she could sense in the equipment, but it was a guessing game, far from her forte. Leda had been trained heavily in combat and brute force (one reason her bid to investigate had been approved), but her finer manipulation of the Force was wanting. Alarms began sounding at her attentions to the machinery, their purpose a mystery to her, but she continued gamely looking for the right key to unlock her restraints.

All the while, the Knight kept a sliver of her mind focused on the Sith prowling his ship. He knew she was awake, he had to. When would he come to check on her? This last thing, she wondered with a fatalistic acceptance, and began to renew her efforts in getting loose.

And then she had to stop. By this point, there was a chorus in the room of wailing alarms and beeping alerts, though the cacophony barely registered, so focused was she. No, the reason she stopped was that he was close. The time had come.

The door slid open, and a pair of peaceful gray eyes shifted to meet the figure coming into the room. Without his armor, he was deceptively mild in appearance, though clearly tainted by the Dark Side, with streaks of corruption mottling his swarthy flesh and glowing red eyes. He was tall and fit, clearly a warrior like she was, though her earlier assessment of his greater strength seemed so much more evident now that she could make out the defined planes of his body, clad in tight-fitting black. In his hands was an instrument she recognized as a

He wasted no time, "What I want to know is - why were you sent here, just to investigate the other who had been killed. Shame," the male purred, "as even with your padawan left to tell the council what happened, and so we are alone. And no long in Scariff space. I want to know everything there is to know about you, Leda, and your pet."

A firm scowl was fixed on the Jedi's features as she listened; how had he known her name? His tone was smooth and dangerous, clearly the voice of someone used to being the predator. Her sharp chin raised defiantly, and she considered her words carefully before responding. "You have me at a disadvantage," she said. There was a light hint of wry humor in her low tone, which clashed oddly with her current predicament. He had confirmed that Seely was safe and that they had left Scarif. That meant they were alone, well and truly, and her survival was dependent on her wits.

Her eyes darted down, and she nodded at the whip in his hands. "Torture, is that what you had in mind? I have nothing to hide. Ask me your questions." It occurred to her to say something defiant and brave, like 'The Council will find you', but she wasn't in any position to be issuing threats or ultimatums. Since she hadn't managed to escape before he arrived, she would play the waiting game now, and discover as much as she could about her foe. When she escaped, the information would prove invaluable. She refused to entertain the idea that she would not escape. It was only a matter of time.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

Once he stepped into the room, at first Vinrath was greeted by numerous firing alarms that informed him what the girl had been up to. Perhaps she'd by this point figured out that her bindings were held in place by composited Phrik, one of the strongest substances known in the galaxy. It was said that Emperor Palpatine himself had his lightsaber constructed from the very same metal. So she'd been busying herself trying to hit whatever she could, testing, attempting to find the release from her clamps. She could certainly cause damage that way, if she kept it up, though when he made his way in and the door closed behind him, she ceased. Uh huh. Didn't want her captor to know exactly what she'd been up to.

While he could understand that, already it was too late, and after speaking his...request, the male Sith set about both repairing all the various functions aboard the complex ship that she deigned to mess with, and also creating brand new lockout entries for all of his critical systems. Maybe, if she really was tenacious and left to her own devices, the female could in fact actually break through - however, as it stood currently, that wasn't going to happen. Not only did he have a lot of plans for her, but also once he made his lockouts, at best she could perhaps control the temperature of the ship, which while allowing her a chance to be willfully irritating, also did not actually do much in the slightest to alter her situation. Oops.

She may still try; one thing the Sith had been able to pick up through his monitoring of the woman in the Force was that she possessed a fiercemess of spirit, as well as an intelligence that he would not have counted on, when it came to the Jedi. Then again, Vinrath definitely had a low opinion of Jedi wit and wisdom even if he were inclined to praise or begrudgingly admit to their sometimes incredibly lucky ability to guess right. In this case, she'd redirected her efforts to escape in a way that meant sense, and made him have to work harder to protect his ship. Kudos.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, lightwhip dangling ominously but unactivated in one hand, Vinrath paced about, thinking, debating, running through options. It was possible that she could, if given enough time and resources, actually escape, but even with her relative intelligence and talent, it would take a while. He really didn't want to give her the opportunity to just explore so easily; the weakness he felt from his double battles affected him strongly enough that he had a strong motivation to tear into her. But actual release, while giving him a great boost, would affect her as well, so he opted to play it slow.



"This whip is not for torture necessarily, no," he informed her in a carefully modulated tone. "It used to belong to a skilled agent of the Empire called Lady Lumiya. Unlike a lightsaber with a single blade, all of the whip ends also are lit up with kyber crystals internally, so a single strike can be...extremely damaging." He placed the whip off to the side, and took a look at the various torture devices that hovered above her - a combination of Empire, Hutt and Black Sun tech. Probably he wouldn't need it. "But we are not talking about that. We are talking about you."

Without warning, the male pulled hard through the Force, shutting his eyes. The front of the Jedi's clothes, the topmost and bottommost portions, tore to pieces, shredding, and he wrenched the tatters off, leaving her in no more than her underwear. Frankly he was a little surprised by how slight her panties were, which caused a small twitch for him down below. Once he'd finished, he checked his handiwork and left her outer clothes in a destroyed pile at his feet.

"I have no need to torture you, and you can call me V, by the way," he added smoothly. "That's as much information as you get. Mmm, very nice, Leda, you keep fit. Your Master must be proud," he hissed, revealing his teeth. "There are a few things I am going to teach you as well. But before all that, yes, answer me. Tell me all that you know about my activities, and what the council and you believe as to why. I am deadly curious, it is a fault of mine," the Sith told her, advancing to where she was strapped down. Reaching out with one single finger, he stroked gently up and down her covered slit, watching her eyes, seeing the outline of her lower lips shaped. "And also, I want to know - whether you think it is relevant or not - when was the last time you had sex, and all of your sexual history. It might be the most relevant point of all."

 

[Bandeena]

Leda kept her attention closely focused as the male Sith set about disarming the alarms and creating his new codes, trying to commit his actions to memory. It might come in useful later--she was stubborn, and sure to try again. He looked irritated, which pleased her, though her intention had not been to annoy him--that turned out to be a fringe benefit. He began pacing, clearly thinking about what he was going to say next, and Leda simply watched as he did so, her fierce gray eyes tracking him from one side of the room to the other. The lightwhip dangled in his hand, but he didn't activate it, instead handling it like it was helping him to think, and process whatever was going through his head.

Then he began to speak, not a trace of annoyance in his tone. Not a trace of anything in his tone, really, he kept it carefully controlled and level. Leda listened, still staring intently, and watched as he surveyed his other torture instruments. Torture seemed likely, despite his words. She didn't know anything worth revealing, anyway.

Suddenly, she felt a pull against her front, as if gravity had suddenly shifted directions, and with a great rending tear, Leda's robes were torn from her figure to fall in tatters on the ground, some of the scraps fluttering against her skin as they fell. Feeling utterly exposed, she closed her eyes and sought inner balance to overcome the ominous feeling of unease at his actions. That pull had been carefully controlled, and a surprise. She would need to remain alert around him; he seemed to rely on surprise. Under her robes, she dressed functionally, like any of her peers might. A tight binding held her rather ample bosom from interfering in battle, though it had been ripped, and her underwear was a simple white thong, for comfort and mobility. Nudity was something shat she wasn't ashamed of, but he had weaponized it. Her body was only a temporary thing, anyway. She would just...detach herself...

His purring voice came from closer now, and she opened her eyes to better face him down. Her scowl had lightened and a look of peace settled in behind it, though she acknowledged that an undercurrent of fear rumbled in her belly. She had to recognize the fear first to overcome it. The Force...was with her. She was one with the Force. V--that was what he had told her to call him--slowly, inexorably reached out and began to stroke her womanly folds, jarring her sharply from her meditation even as she braced herself for the sensation. Her whole body tensed, but she refused to avert her gaze, her gray eyes driving into his red ones, and she stubbornly lifted her chin, clenching her jaw.

And she waited it out, though her every nerve was screaming at her to do something, anything, to stop his invasion. Her body was temporary, she reminded herself. But still, she glowered, silently seething, as she waited to hear his list of questions. The first made sense, and she knew so little about Council knowledge and capability that she was no threat one way or the other, so she didn't hesitate to tell him as much: "I was sent to investigate my friend's death. I volunteered. I can't speculate on the Council's thoughts and theories regarding you, because I am not privy to them, but I think you have just confirmed to me that you are the one who has been killing the Jedi. Which means I have done my job."

The second question caused her pause. It further cemented the idea that he had some kind of sexual intentions toward her, be it torture or rape. Or both. Still, she refused to avert her gaze from his, defiance blazing in her stare. Seconds seemed to turn into minutes as she contemplated the question, though she decided rather quickly that she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of an easy answer. When had been the last time, though? She hardly needed to ask herself; of course she knew. Jasson. Her first and only lover, a cocky Rebel pilot who had made her heart melt and her toes curl, and very nearly made her give up her destiny, when she was aged 16 and 17. Her love for Jasson had been a bump in the road to becoming a Jedi.

His finger, patiently stroking her lower lips was becoming distracting. It felt like an invasion, her flesh much more sensitive there than in more commonly exposed parts of her body, and thinking about Jasson awoke old emotions that stirred her to respond. She shifted her hips to interrupt his aim, to avoid his finger. "This is not really what you want to do," she mumbled softly, her voice soothing and hypnotic. She began to channel the Force into pushing her whim upon him, gently prying at his resolve with her dexterous mind. It was a stupid thing to try, really--it was difficult to influence other Force-sensitives in this way, and Leda was a Guardian, with a focus in combat. Her weak point was in the very thing she was attempting to do, but it was fueled by a desperation that she wasn't quite letting herself feel. But she had to exhaust all her avenues of escape. So she would try to influence him. The influence she was exerting was subtle, but it grew as she talked. "I have already told you what you truly wanted to know," she said, her voice low and compelling. She still held his gaze. "I am not a threat to you. You want to free me," she added, speaking slowly and clearly as the Masters had taught her. Between each statement, she paused to let her words sink in, increasing the amount of Force she was exerting.

"This is the only thing you wanted from me," she finished, "and you are content with the knowledge I have shared."

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

Vinrath actually just burst out in a gigantic fit of laughter.

Honestly, he felt thoroughly surprised himself, surprised that she would even try to Jedi mind trick him. Please. That old sorcery certainly had it's uses and effectiveness, although the Sith inversion of that power could also influence, control, and break brains. Jedi, naturally, never strayed too far from their supposed upright morality, another trait that irked him. The Force allowed for such unfettered power that he had never felt the slightest hesitation in utlizing his gift for maximum effect, ethics be damned. Then again, his own education in the Force was much different than most, even with a proper teacher at times. A lot of it had been fractured, discovered on his own, and learned through practice to gain proficiency.

At first he remained there, fingers poised right on top of her barely covered pussy, brushing to awaken the wetness in her folds - but then he pulled away, stepped back, toward the side bench on which he'd left the light whip. Vinrath took a good look at his prisoner; the bindings that wrapped her peaks were torn as well, though her nipples weren't revealed to him. Would they become erect, from the light stimulation he'd provided already? Worth exploring. Also, she wore a simple thong, a fetish he had to admit he had a great aptitude for. She had no clue what that did to him, he was sure. Again, it made his member swell with excitement. If only he could turn her over, he'd get a fabulous shot of her tight little ass, too. Ah well, all in due time.

A curling smile reached around the corners of his lips. "Really? Are you really so foolish as to believe that would work, on me?" Vinrath had to admit privately that he admired and respected her tenacity, as well as her clear stubbornness of will, but that meant that if he wished to keep her - he hadn't yet decided - the actual process of breaking her down and crumbling her up into something he could re-mold in his image would be that much tougher. That also meant it would be a lot more fun. So far, despite his cravings and his need to replenish, he'd been remarkably patient.

"Do not underestimate me, Jedi," he mouthed coldly. "I killed your friend, oh yes, all of them, dead by my hand." He picked up the whip again, toying with the topmost strands delicately. "I beat you in lightsaber combat, too, and you seem like an expert. Sure, I let your padawan live, for my own reasons, none of which I care to share," he instantly followed up on, as if that was a point of debate. "And as you no doubt ascertained, you are completely and totally at my mercy. Your clothes are a gone, save the lightest of your remaining modesty. I have instruments aplenty and this whip, should I truly desire to torture you. So it is in your best interests to stop your nonsense, stop trying to fuck with me or escape, and answer my questions fully and completely. Do you understand?"

By the end of his diatribe, the rage that had coursed through him combined with the passion her nearly-nude form awakened and the anger he felt for her tactics, creating a huge amount of Force energy through the dark side inside of him. Redirecting it, Vinrath took that energy into his body directly, in order to restore what he'd already expended. The side effect happened to be that crisscrossing crimson lines sprung up and seared into his skin, from his forearms to his shoulders, on both sides, though Leda couldn't see that due to his armor. Still, he was unable to prevent a hiss of pain from falling out from his lips, and his irises looked as if they might be permanently bloodshot afterwards. Such was the power of the dark side. And it's cost.

Once he settled down and let the coolness of the unusual spring awash over him, he walked gingerly back to the Jedi, and raised the whip. "You didn't answer me on the second part. I want your whole history, Leda. All of it. When was the last time you had sex, if ever? Orgasmed?" That also happened to be crucial, though she didn't yet know it. "When was the last time you felt a hard cock inside of you?" Blunt, absolutely, yet he had to know. Before he acted.

With a winding crash, he hit her across her sodden cunt with the whip, just one time, enough so that it would sting and serve as a reminder that he himself didn't mess around, reinforcing what he had just said. "Answer me. All of it. The dark side of the Force is a pathway toward many abilities that some might consider...unnatural," he allowed. "But I have discovered something of great interest and you might be the perfect subject to test that theory, which is why you still live. Got it? Good, then speak, lest I truly lose my patience and properly punish you."

If she thought he'd be docile or restrict himself in any way, she was sorely mistaken.

 

[Bandeena]

His cruel laughter at her weak attempts to trick him lit a flame of shame deep in Leda's belly, but her gaze became defiant as he rubbed in her failure. At least he'd stopped touching her. Her ash colored eyes stayed trained on him as he laid down his threats and pointed out the bleakness of her situation. He was right, it did look bleak for her, but then he paused to get an answer. "I wouldn't say you beat me in lightsaber combat--you beat me with a dirty trick," she spat at him, obliging him with a response, and not unaffected by his well-chosen barbs. She couldn't really help being snarky, and the words were out before she thought them through--her anger was showing. Kress hadn't suffered this, at least, before becoming one with the Force. Seeking balance once more, the Jedi calmed herself and soothed away the feelings of anger that balled her hands into fists. She relaxed...but her scowl didn't falter.

Meanwhile, V seethed. She could sense the energies he was bringing into his body, and she had to resist conflicting urges to flinch away from him and to erect a barrier of Force Protection around her. Her hands balled into fists, but she was still radiant with a sense of calm, while he hissed in pain, his eyes flashing ominously. "Nice trick," she said dryly, realizing that her remarks were simply feeding his anger. Maybe she should stop egging him on. Leda hesitated a moment, and then rolled her eyes and sighed. "That was rude of me, I apologize," she said, bowing her head solemnly, eyes closed, her voice coming out much more confident than she felt, as if an apology were the most appropriate thing in the world to offer at that time.

Whatever else she might have expected from her perfunctory apology, Leda wasn't particularly surprised when her captor raised the whip. She closed her eyes, seeking her center and physically bracing herself against a blow while she listened to him elaborate his demands. And then--whack--the whip made contact with her stimulated sex. Leda flinched, her breath coming through her teeth in a sharp, unwilling hiss, but underneath the flimsy protection of her panties, she throbbed, pins and needles shooting painfully inside her from the point of contact.

What did he say? Test subject?

She remembered tales of Sith being something like mad scientists. The questions he was asking were uncomfortable, and made her stutter awkwardly while she tried to piece together the implications of why he'd care about her last orgasm: "Erm...I...uh..." before she took a calming breath and fell into a meditative peace once again. She thought about Jasson, and the last time they'd made love, when she told him she was leaving him. It had been the right decision then, and it would be wrong to deny the learning experience that it had become to her. It was out of love for him that she made up her mind to share.

When it finally came out past the initial stutters, her voice was steady, "I took my last and only lover seven years ago, and have chosen a life of celibacy since then. It is the Jedi way to avoid emotional attachments, and sex often complicates emotions. I think you know this, however." Know thy enemy. He didn't seem a fool, whatever else she might think him.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

The saddest part for the Jedi under his thumb remained that she was all too susceptible and she didn't even realize it; at least, not right away. They were always so slow on the uptake, so unwilling to see the obvious before their very eyes, so quick to assume that all Force users in the galaxy view things in the same narrow, poorly-defined way they did. While he admired her spirit, every time she spoke and uttered some rote, nonsensical thing from her mouth, Vinrath internally felt vindicated that he had not, in fact, ended her life. As to the why of that particular decision, in the long run it was simple - he needed an apprentice. His last lay dead at the hands of a Jedi Knight who knew not whom he killed, and that primarily fed into Vinrath's fury for revenge, which he'd enacted many times over before Leda entered the picture. If he could turn her - and the anger was there, simmering beneath the surface, roiling at each of his taunts and baits - then that would be the ideal outcome.

Vinrath was no fool, though, most definitely not. He had a pretty firm grasp that he'd have to break her down and rebuild her knowledge entirely. As for what he could and would do to her body, that too she had no real clue about, though he did leave a trail of the most minor breadcrumbs for the woman to follow. She wasn't lacking in intellect, not in the slightest, but her training had rendered her closed-minded to the true abilities of the Force and what that allowed, as evidence by her remark intended to sting his pride. As if that would really work.

"Yes, yesssssssssss, feel that anger surge in you, turn it to me," he purred ominously. "Dirty trick? Are you really so foolish, woman? Did you not use several elements of the Force yourself to attack me, or twist away from my own slashes? It isn't my fault your odious imagination is so limited," he snarled, fully embracing all of the emotions that rocked around the pair, channeling his recovery and Force reserves. "And this? This is what you Jedi lack, that quick access, the ability to charge yourself purely through passion and zeal." Though he had not revealed that he was a Sith, as that bit of information would surely cause a major set of problems, he still gave her every opportunity to suss it out herself, invoking a reference the first line of the Qotsisajak, the famous Sith code. But the Sith were dead; had been for about ten years, right? She likely had no frame of reference.

Whipping her once about her cunt had merely been a light probe of sorts, to gauge both her reaction to such a move and her actual sensitvity. She did not like pain, not in the slightest, and Vinrath deduced that whatever specializations the girl had within the scope of studying the Force, her actual abilities to manage and control herself were riskily thin. Oh, he could definitely tear her to pieces - literally, if he so wished, but much more metaphorically - and seeing what her mind really held would give him a great sense of what the Jedi in the galaxy actually were up to.

But that was far off. The whip in his land glinted in the bright lights of the interrogation room, and he directed his entire being toward her once more, the Force continuing to crackle and invigorate the male. At least she was smart enough to not refuse his answers, and they revealed much, as well as further avenues of psychological attack. Seven years? By the twin suns, it was a long time in his mind. Yet, in a way she'd screwed up, admitting to her intercourse. Vinrath knew that Skywalker had been the first Jedi Master to explicity allow romantic entanglements, believing that love was a symbol of hope and actually critical to developing a Jedi's well-being and overall sense of happiness. How much of that had he revealed to his students? How had they reacted, years of Jedi teachings to the contrary suddenly upended? Here was one who hadn't been shy to embrace her awakening. It intrigued him greatly.

"Your last and only lover?" Striding swiftly, he approached her again, and this time dragged his fingers over her exposed belly button, then up to her chest, casually squeezing and teasing her as yet protected breasts. Well, not for long, should he choose otherwise. "Do you think taht makes it better? Ha. Jedi are such hypocrites, are you not? You were already entangled!" Practically shouting, he kept on adding pressure to his ministrations at her bosom, working her over without particular hurry as he hurled words. "Sex often complications emotions? Tell me, how did your lover feel when you split, when he knew he wouldn't be able to ram his fat cock into you?" A small rap to her tits punctuated his hammerblow of a statement, intentionally lewd to evoke her memories. "How did you feel, knowing that you'd no longer be getting this pretty little pussy stuffed? What childish garbage. You loved and lost, a failure to the last, and have suffered with your celibacy for your own atonement. Go ahead, Jedi Knight Leda, tell me that I am wrong. I dare you."

 

[Bandeena]

"Yes, yesssssssssss, feel that anger surge in you, turn it to me," the Sith's voice purred, and Leda immediately reacted by withdrawing into herself. Anger had been her most challenging trial to overcome, and so she was keyed into fighting against its urges. She didn't break her gaze, still staring into his red eyes, determined to be defiant; but she had erected a mental barrier, of sorts. This kind of language was ominous, dripping with his hatred for the Jedi, and it made her feel like she needed to shield herself from the oozing noxiousness of his words. Her breathing regulated and became steady again, her pulse calming as well, despite the sight before her. The Force was with her.

Peace had been found within the young Jedi Knight. She was not stupid--she suspected she knew what his intentions were with his finger's first assault, and the casual destruction of her wardrobe--so it came as little surprise to her when he approached and began fondling her. What little surprise was there lay in the sudden sure understanding that he was trying to tempt her. It was just a kernel of a thought, but as he spoke, as the pressure increased, the kernel bloomed, proving itself a fertile seed. He was trying to tempt her! Hadn't Master Luke said the same thing of the Emperor, in his lesson on the Sith? Did it not explain his actions thus far? Why else had he left her alive and unharmed?

Outwardly, the only sign of this epiphany was a narrowing of the eyes, and then Leda finally, finally tore her gaze from his, looking away. Better to remain distant. Her realization was so strong that she had to pause a moment to think back on his words and catch up, just as a sharp reminder came in the form of his him striking her chest. She closed her eyes now, falling into a troubled meditation as he barraged her with cruel words. But, she reminded herself, he didn't know her, not yet. She missed Jasson, but she had come to terms with her feelings for him and how they were incompatible with her goals to help rebuild the Jedi order. His words bounced off of her this time, and she offered him a serene smile, looking at him with calmer eyes than she'd had before. "You perspective is exciting, but it is not as you describe. Our fates were too different, and so it was the right thing to do. My celibacy is a choice that was based off of that experience, but not as atonement for it."

She was talking to keep him occupied while she rapidly processed her options, mentally reviewing all of the information Master Skywalker had to share on the Jedi Order's ancient nemesis. It wasn't much, truth be told. But somebody had to be warned. She had a purpose, now--a reason to live...and a reason to fear death.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

The first thing Vinrath did, upon listening to what she had to say, was to drop the whip on the floor beneath his feet, so that both of his hands were free.

She tried, she did her best, she fought back so hard against him. Years of that Jedi training and the effort she had put into her self-discipline revealed itself to Vinrath, from everything that she attempted to do to stave off both his taunts and his temptations. None of this mattered in the slightest, of course; so far she had been quite unsuccessful in trying to eliminate her restraints, and there wasn't anything upcoming on the horizon that would make it easier for her; if anything, he complicated matters further by added another layer of protection into the digital releases, a remote possibility at best. So she was stuck, and his to do whatever he pleased.

Currently, that was drawing the energies from her and messing about with her fine peaks, but as she seemed determined to look away, to avoid his onslaught, Vinrath made it that much more difficult, wantonly ripping her banding to pieces, revealing her heaving, perky chest, both of her nipples fully aroused. Mmm. it wasn't a surprise; he had stimulated her physically well enough to get her like that, though he could resist the opportunity to rub it in her face. "Sure. And your arousal now? How does that jibe with your choice of celibacy, Jedi, hmm?" SLAP, a quick tap to both of her jiggling tits followed, and then he resumed toying with her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and his forefinger, still openly mocking her and her past situation, and also what the future held. "Is your little pussy wet for me too? No matter, I'll soon find out."

Ominous, his statement was, but also true; his other hand all but pierced the front of her thong to invade her, and he found that her cunt was in fact moistened, perhaps since she hadn't been touched there by a man in so long. "Look at you, you whore," he spat, "dripping for me, of all people, your enemy. Did you fuck yourself these past few celibate years, hmm? Did you play with your snatch and cum your brains out, thinking about your boytoy and your different fates, huh?" Vinrath drove his two longest digits right tehre into her sopping fuckhole and was rewarded with a squelch as her natural lubrication seeped around the sides of his digits. That felt really good. He could only imagine shoving his enormous cock into her hard and fast, once he managed to solve the orgasm problem that is. Now wasn't the time to continue his lecture though, or reveal all that much. It was just time to use her for his pleasure.

So he didn't stop working her warm slit over, digging deeper, splitting his fingers apart inside of her cunt, dragging his thumb back along her clit as he dared, as he liked, panties shunted off to one side, useless in preventing his ministrations. "You're never going to escape," he fired out, as if he could read her thoughts, her hopes. "Oh no, I won't kill you, but I'll do whatever I wish to you on your beautiful body, and conduct my experiments, and you're going to be a helpless slut to my fingers...and my fat cock."

 

[Bandeena]

Despite his best efforts, Leda successfully ignored the Sith's destruction of her breast band; and her meditation held as he all but mauled her chest, though her concentration flickered at the stinging contact of the smack of hand against flesh. So this was to be the nature of her torment, was it? His words stung like slaps, easily shaken off, yet barb after barb would soon begin to wear on her. Added to that: despite her best efforts, Leda's body was betraying her. His manipulation of her nipples sent little lightning bolts through her body, igniting an alarming tingling between her legs that she felt immediately ashamed of. Then, as if echoing her fears, he said: "Is your little pussy wet for me too? No matter, I'll soon find out."

Reactively, she flinched and tried to scoot away from his questing hand, but her bindings were unforgiving and unyielding, and her back only allowed her to twist so far. When his fingers found their way into her passage, they did so with a confidence and force that brought a pained grunt from Leda's throat. It didn't hurt physically, except that it dealt a grievous blow to her pride. In response, the Knight's curly head snapped around and she glared at him again, her eyes flashing like storm clouds as he taunted her. How tempting it was to hate him, and to lash out in anger--she could feel the flint and steel of hatred attempting to strike a flame in her heart. But that was what he wanted. Her breathing was coming faster now, and once again she tore her gaze from his to try and soothe away the feelings of anger and fear that threatened to overtake her.

Unfortunately, Leda had met her match, and meditation under such duress was impossible for her to achieve. To her shame, she began to struggle against her restraints as she felt her body awaken against her will. The traitorous arousal she felt allowed his fingers to plunder and explore her depths and folds with embarrassing ease, even as she attempted to squirm out of his reach, at the moment an impossible task. She jerked at her bindings with such force that she bruised her wrists and ankles, instinctively trying to escape the violation being forced upon her, no better than a captured beast. And no better than a captured beast, she dug her grave deeper, her thrashing adding an unpredictability to his motions that only served to add to her arousal. She tried vainly to close her knees against his pillaging hand, twisting her bruised ankles in their manacles painfully.

Her breathing was coming in soft pants now. It really had been a very long time since her pussy had been tended to by anything other than her own aggravated fingers, and something about the helplessness of her position lent extra significance to his ministrations. His final statement of promise rang ominously in her ears, and the image of him pulling aside his clothing to reveal an angry cock flashed through her mind in response. He would finish and have to rest...and then he would leave her alone for a time. This torment would cease, and she could reach out for help. Determination, rather than anger, fueled her glare now, and she said, much braver than she felt, "If that's all you're after, get it over with. Scum." Then she spat at him. She had lost all hope for her virtue, such as it was, and was just trying to survive long enough to get a message sent off. Bait him into finishing, and use the solitude to plan out an escape...or a death.

 

[Doctor Manhattan]

"Oh yes, yes you are so wet, mmm, you missed some good fingers besides your own up this sweet cunt, huh?" Taunting her verbally became second nature to him; her flares and surges of negative emotion so hotly directed towards her captor only served to amplify his power, that raw strength spiraling around and about him. Damn it felt good to be inside of her this way, thong wet and shunted off to one side, two digits riling up and opened up in a V within her tight walls. What a lucky bastard her first and only lover had been, getting to fuck this juicy pussy whenever he wished, whenever their passion struck them. Passion was Sith, and he knew that emotion so well, feeling it now even, keenly, as he continued to explore her leaking folds unabated.

Nor did he stop the assault on her pert tits either, dancing around the fleshy globes and deliberately tweaking her crystal-hard nipples wherever he wished. Honestly the whole effect was intensely sexy to him, and she'd been remarkably docile so far under his initial violations, which may have been due to surprise. It wasn't like he gave her much of a chance to strike, either, since she had such a difficult time reining in her control of the Force through the light side alone. He was all darkness instead, the other half, the part that Jedi feared greatly and kept hidden away, not even beginning to understand the fullness of that raw power and what it really allowed one to do. Fear, anger, hate, suffering - it was a cycle that had borne him well over the years and Leda just now had to struggle with, poorly. He'd not give her the chance to push back.

Opening up her dripping snatch had been all too easy, same for the caresses to her tender bosom, and his constant lashings of his tongue aided and abetted his goals greatly. She had no way to avoid what he did, sliding up inside of her, immensely warm, the heat surrounding his fingertips. Again he imagining claiming her cunt with his cock, as he'd stated, but that had been more for her benefit rather than his, and she did not disappoint, instantly trying to egg him on to get on with it, to get the task done and over with if that was to be his final end result. SLAP, the male backhanded her across the face hard, still digging into her hot little pussy freely, removing his fist from her breasts to hit her, and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You're not in charge here, Jedi. When I want to fuck you, I will, and not before. No, keep moaning like a bitch in heat, it's music to my ears. You love how I use your sweet pussy as my toy, don't you?"

She did pant, labored, his skillful fingers constantly working, and besides that he had other considerations that he was still working out regarding her orgasm, should it manifest, although an idea came to him on that very point. Still he didn't expand on the nature of that particular problem, as it was neither the time nor the place and he did not want to give her the chance to get more information which she might be able to use against him. Probably she suspected that he'd just get his rocks off and leave, but oh no, her torture would be long and drawn out by his standards, and he said as much just then, in case she had any doubt. "I own your pussy now, Leda," Vinrath practically purred. "It belongs to me. And another thing - you can't cum, slut. I won't allow it." Knifing back inside, twisting through her guts, juices flowing out her, he followed up by saying curtly, "and we're going to make it a lot harder for you to stay centered, that's for sure."

With his free hand, he snagged a small, egg shaped object through the air, along with it's remote control, and reluctantly pulled free from her trembling pussy with a pop, lavishly licking his pads clean. "Delicious. But this, see this? It's a vibrator. I can willfully control it, and that means, as I said, I own your pussy completely." He shoved the egg into her, fitting it inside of her tight hole, then wrapped her thong over it to secure the item in place. "So whatever ideas you have in that pretty head of yours, abandon all hope. This is all mine and mine alone." WIth that, he pressed the first button, watched the egg tremulate, and his grin could have light up the inside of the chamber itself.

 

[Bandeena]

A slap was the expected result of her defiance, and the Sith did not disappoint, driving the back of his hand into her cheek with a bruising force that snapped her to her senses. The stinging throb on her face distracted her from the dancing fingers in her pussy. In her moment of clarity, her eyes around the room for something she could leverage. If he was going to draw this out, as he promised, then she was going to fight him for every minute of it. Still, his voice haunted her, murmured and cajoling, and his digits were relentless, and the clarity from his slap faded all too soon. But not before she saw the whip, where it had been dropped and forgotten earlier.

His face came into her field of vision, blocking the whip from view, and he declared ownership. Leda's brow, already scowling, grew enraged, and she thrashed at her bindings, her hips rocking unwillingly against his fingers in motion with his fucking her with them. A shuddering gasp escaped her lips, and she shook her head in denial as she felt the traitorous beginnings of a climax churned up by his attentions to her tight hole. And then he vacated it, and her hips writhed for the loss, but she was filled with relief that her body hadn't betrayed her completely, not yet. Empty for but a moment, the Jedi's needy pussy was then stuffed with a foreign object that ominously rested against all of the itches his fingers had raised within her pulsing pink walls.

When he turned it on, she seized up as if she'd been struck by a bolt of lightning, and she yelped, quivering for several seconds while she gathered control of her limbs, a pained moan dragged from her throat: "Aaughh...Mmmmn..." The vibration was strong, and it seemed to tickle her from a thousand places at once, places he had awoken with his earlier invasion and exploration. By this point, she was struggling to think clearly, so thoroughly distracted by his new toy that she had all but forgotten about the lightwhip at his feet and her half-baked plans to turn it on him. She tossed her head, and closed her eyes, facing first up to the ceiling before angling her face toward the floor.

Disgust, shame, and hatred struggled against one another and against Leda's mental defenses. She had never envisioned being in a position like this: exposed, assaulted, afraid to reach out to the Force for fear of her own emotions. But the Force was there, a reassuring presence that offered her power to fight back, if she would only try. She would have to wield it like a club, without the finesse offered by meditation and peace, but she was not powerless to stop this from happening to her. She opened her eyes, and they fell on the abandoned whip once again. Breathing heavily and trembling from the effort of staying still, she blindly reached out to the Force, exactly as she was trained not to do...and lightning fast, the whip snapped to life, the long tails crackling with the energy flowing through the embedded crystals. Her eyes burned holes through him.

With a loud--CRACK--it lashed out at the Sith's unprotected back.

At the same time, the vibrator clattered violently to the floor at her feet, buzzing ineffectively in a puddle of wetness.