LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!
Alright guys... this is rated M for a reason. Adult themes, uber drama, violence, sexiness, not so sexiness... Just be aware.
(I do not own Star Wars.)
Chapter One: Every Day is Exactly the Same
In the depths of space rested a man in his infiltrator, named Scimitar. He was alone in the darkness, which is exactly how he preferred to be.
He never truly slept. To sleep properly means to have dreams to recount the day, and this man did not remember the last dream that he had ever had. When he rested, all was black and shadow.
He looked up at the ceiling, filled with nothing but shadow, as the rest of the ship was kept in darkness. This was the perfect setting to demonstrate how he felt he had been hidden for the past decade.
He stared intently at the ceiling from his bed, as if waiting for someone to fall through it to engage him in battle. This would have certainly been much more worthwhile compared to the "mission" he had been assigned to.
Fighting and killing were the paint and brush to his canvas, and the two together turned the majority of his assassinations and battles into masterpieces- terrifying illustrations, but masterpieces. Currently, the man giving orders was not interested in using his minion to the fullest of his abilities.
He had trained for close to 30 years, his whole entire life, in the hopes of being able to somehow please his "master".
He became bored with fixedly goggling at the dark and decided to shut his eyes while in contemplation of the events of tomorrow. He was to be on Coruscant, the home of the old Galactic Republic, now the new Empire.
The Empire…
These words had neither a positive or negative connotation on him and he still was unable to figure why. One would think that he would be immensely pleased from the understanding of his enemy's extinction and his master's rise in power, as well as his brethren. In actuality, he could not care less.
He wondered if he ever really earned his right of being a Sith. His once master, Sidious, acknowledged his skill and use, even after the incident on Naboo, but no longer held a place for him as his apprentice. He thought that he would have been killed, but instead was reanimated.
Without considering the strange inconsideration of the rule of two, the man tried even harder and persisted on, almost psychotically, with training. He had almost killed Tyranus a few times, and vice versa, through their staged duels. Sidious needed Tyranus, so the man let him go off before he annihilated the fallen Jedi… and he himself was useful to where he wasn't killed.
He could remember the day that he first was given his name- Maul. This was the name of something that was born to bring chaos and untimely, often gore-filled, death. Indeed, he had done so on countless occasions.
For a moment, he thought that he would be able to continue to ponder on such things. Then, for no reason other than sick fate, a vision appeared before him.
…
He was lying in a hard, cold, and flat bed. He opened his eyes, and a blinding light abused his wake and caused him to slam his eyes closed and, in turn, he snarled at the annoyance of not being able to see.
Maul guessed that he had been strapped down to a steel bed and felt leather laces over his neck, chest, stomach, and even his wrists. They itched and scratched at his denuded skin, for both his robe and tunic were absent.
He wriggled underneath them and could not help but begin to flex his distressed muscles. He was completely confused and enraged by the situation he was currently in.
How dare they do this!
He then thought about who "they" could be, for he could hear the sounds of buzzing, beeping, clicking, and whirring, as if he was in the middle of a droid factory.
"Lord Maul, you must not move during the affixation."
Maul looked to his right side towards the voice that had spoken and tensed his eyebrows at a black medical droid.
"Where am I, droid?" Maul asked with command in his voice, while he continued with his struggling underneath the restraints.
"You are on Geonosia, by the orders of Count Dooku. We are trying to rehabilitate you as you were before Naboo."
The words bothered Maul, as they were spoken in the typical monotone voice of a robot and he did not consider the name that was mentioned.
"Droid, release me from these things," Maul authorized, keeping a calm yet intimidating composure.
"I cannot let you out until you are rehabilitated, Sir," the droid answered with a banaustic speech.
"Rehabilitated? And what do you mean by 'affixation'?" Maul vociferated, his voice deepening into a bellow.
"We are fusing back the lower half of your body to your torso, Lord Maul."
Maul then felt a sharp prickling beneath his naval. He lifted up his head, as far as he could, to see four DD-13 droids needle and stitch at what appeared to be his organs that had been disconnected from one another, along with a B1 battle droid who had its blaster in hand.
He was completely bewildered and almost embarrassed at the pitiful sight of his limp, lower body, which was being conjoined back with his upper body with metal wirings and metal plates. He gnarled his teeth and his already hate filled eyes screamed with complete abhorrence and total pain.
"You must keep still, my Lord."
The robot's lifeless voice started him into a mad hysteria.
He used his dark force to tear the leather straps into shreds, and he heaved his upper body into as much of a sitting position as he could. He wanted to escape from this insanity but his legs were still non-functioning.
The battle droid then made the mistake of raising its blaster towards the now ferocious man and he used the Force to pulverize it. Its many parts scattered into pieces all over the room.
The four droids continued to stitch away as the black palm of his hand thrust toward them. He almost unleashed a wave of energy that would have disassembled them into worthlessness.
"You are quite the animal, Darth Maul."
He looked to his side, to see an older man with salt and pepper hair that covered his face as well as his head. That was all he got to see as the man used the Force to put Maul into submission.
...
He then remembered what had happened. There had been a duel between himself and two Jedi, and an Obi-Wan Kenobi had left a lasting impression in his eyes and on his body as he finished the duel.
After Maul had dealt Kenobi's master a fatal blow, the padawan became filled with undeniable rage. His movements became expeditious. But, because Kenobi was in such a rush from his own lack of control, Maul was in a better state for battle.
When he had Obi-Wan defenseless in the reactor shaft, Maul knew that he was his to kill, for he had the high ground.
Then Kenobi leapt up using the Force to enhance his reach and brought his fallen master's light saber into his grasp. Maul watched him fly over his body until he flipped into a quick landing.
That was when the one event that plagued Maul took place.
Kenobi had sliced him in two, an action known as sai tok. One that a Sith would normally partake in, but not a Jedi.
…
Maul awoke from his forced coma only to find the same intrusive light in his face. This time, he allowed the light to hit him and only closed his eyes in discomfort.
There were no straps now. The sound of the medical droids had been removed, as well as their physical being. He was alone.
He looked down at his body, which consisted of his entire lower body as well. At that moment, he could only feel the sensations of blood flowing to his lower limbs and continuing back up to his chest, where his two beating hearts continued to beat in unison.
He wondered how much of his intestine had been lost or how much of any of his lower organs had been compromised. He supposed that since he still breathed, and was no longer in any immense pain, that he had been… lucky. An operation to actually try to reattach a separated limb or body part, rather than replace it with artificial additives, was considered near-impossible and had a low chance of success.
I don't deserve a chance. I don't deserve to live.
Besides the sheet covering up the anatomy of all beneath his waist, he was exposed to the stagnant, cool air that filled the room and surrounded the tattooed skin of his upper body.
The sharp pain was still present and sharpened from his abdomen around to his back. He welcomed pain, though. Hurt was one of the only things real to him.
Out of curiosity, Maul lifted up the covering, to see what it looked like.
All that was left to show that anything had been separated was a thin, raised scar, colored a deep red to match his own natural pigmentation. It would probably not reduce any more in size and would be a reminder of his ultimate failure in losing his apprenticeship and status as a proper Sith.
"At least I extinguished his dear, old master," Maul commented to himself, smiling a grim smile at the thought of a pain that Obi-Wan Kenobi certainly must have felt.
"And for that, I will haunt you until the day you die."
He looked up and saw the face of a man. The face was only slightly peach in color, and his eyes were a soft blue, yet fierce in appearance. There was long brown hair that surrounded the man's face and fell past his shoulders and he had a moustache and beard that, added with his prominent nose and his receding hairline, made him look as if he was middle-aged, even though he was much older.
This man was the last man that Maul had killed before Kenobi had taken his life away from him.
…
Maul jolted upward and placed a hand over his abdomen. His eyes raced around the room, to find the face that haunted him, and his breathing was sporadic.
He was back in the dark again, and closed his eyes from this new found relaxation. He placed one of his palms against his forehead and spread his fingers so as not to scratch them on his crown of horns.
That was the most real that it ever felt.
Maul was so intent on maintaining himself that he continuously denied himself of the truth. The truth that he had changed since that day- since Obi-Wan had performed and attacked with sai tok. He did not know that his denial would be his eventual undoing.
The room was dark and she had been forced to her knees by two guards. The barrels of their blasters pressed into the strangely tough skin on her back.
As always, she was dressed in a pathetic outfit; a slave's attire consisting of nothing but a short, black dress that left her exposed from the top of her thighs to her toes.
The outfit showed the body of a twenty year old woman, if even a woman, who had been brought down to the level of a bottom feeder.
Almost everything that had mattered to her had been taken away thus far, including loved ones, a sense of safety, and dignity.
The slim muscles that tensed randomly, all over her body, did little to help her when she used to struggle. Now they were unused and neglected.
Her toes cramped, her knees ached, and the feeling of not being able to support the weight of her body increased. She was unable to move her arms and hands due to the way they were tightly constrained against her back.
He had made these chains a part of her new attire, instead of using normal, more modern restraints, because she used to fight with every fiber of her being and actually made it difficult for him. That would not happen anymore, so the chains must have remained because they added to his excitement.
She always faced the ground and never dared to look upon her captor. Even though her hair was pulled tightly back, which caused pressure within her temples, some of her plum-hinted, straggled bangs still found place over her fair, blank face.
The two guards, dressed in blood-red vests and shined armor, had already left her alone in there with him. She was with the man that she hated and feared the most, if she could actually hate someone with some form of rationality. Looking upon his face made her wish that she had been killed along with her surrogate family.
He waltzed over to her, shadowed over her kneeling body, and then snatched up her chin with his dense, strong fingers.
He then stared into her pale gray eyes, once so full of glint, softness, and strength. Now they were clouded with the images of the hurt that passed over her daily.
The ridges of his mouth curved into a vicious smile, as he stared at the thin, purple, teardrop scars that he had carved into her cheeks, starting at the orbital of each eye, ending down her jaw line. The man had given those to her, for the strength, the will, and the defiance that she once showed him.
He rubbed his pale, white knuckle against the marks which caused the searing pain that she was cursed with. She shuddered and lightly shook off the sensation that glossed her eyes, with the same blank expression that she had shown as of late.
Without warning, but not too much of a surprise, he wrapped his hand around her neck and lifted her off of the ground. She did not bother trying to gather air, for she knew what he was to do next.
He threw her across the room and her body landed on a hard, long table. She choked, as the metal around her wrists made a hard impact into her already sore back.
He moved smoothly over to the defenseless female and slowly took off his dusty colored robe. He had no tunic on to begin with and the white colored skin over his large muscles flexed. His ice-blue eyes and sharp pupils, that sent chills through the very bones in her body, took in her mature form.
With a tongue that she imagined to be forked, he licked above his upper lip. She shut her eyes, as his lust-filled face scarred her mind and invaded whatever innocence she had left to her.
He grabbed hold of her already weak knees and spread her legs open, sure to position her for his comfort and ease. Her lips pursed and she began to tremble from the knowledge of how he was going to overpower her… again.
The man laughed quietly and pushed her farther down across the table, until her head hung down the edge, with only her neck as support.
His touch burned into her skin as the tips of his fingers walked up her stomach to make it in between her breasts. He ripped the top of the dress off of her. Her eyes clenched shut as he began to grope and molest her with his long and cold fingers.
He continued on and placed his mouth on her chest, and he let her know what he was doing by exhaling onto her. He began to lick, nibble, and bite at her raised skin.
She gritted her teeth, and could feel the warmth in her face from the disgust and sadness that she had felt.
Her captor then moved one of his hands up to her chin and pushed against it, while he still molested her fullness with his tongue. He caressed downward with his other hand and allowed it to travel down the inside of her thigh, then up the bottom of what was left of her original attire.
He let out a hissed sigh on her chest as he allowed two of his fingers to invade into her.
She let out a silent cry and allowed her tears to burn through her closed eye-lids, only to have them trickle down her forehead onto the floor.
The urge to repulse was extreme- to cross her legs into an impenetrable knot. But he had her pinned to where she was.
Her toes curled from the horrible feeling as he went deeper and faster and his fingers brushed harshly against what bit of her maidenhood was left.
His attention at that moment was directed towards her face. The exhilaration that filled him from her terrible sadness was astounding and excited him even further.
He reached out of her and removed the pressure from her chin. He began loosening and thumbing his pants off of his waist, slowly, as if to prolong the torture. She knew then, as she had dealt with before, that she was completely helpless from his continued desecration.
He then pulled her back up onto the table, which caused her head to bang against the wood. After hitching up the skirt of the dress, he pressed one hand down on her right thigh. After having grabbed his greatest weapon against her, he impelled himself against her false virginity.
He thrust into her and caused a paroxysm of strain throughout her panicking body. She shut her tear-filled eyes and forced her mind to wander through her past memories, which were the only things that were keeping her sane.
She thought about the last person she had seen alive- Barriss Offee. They were sent to Felucia to investigate into a plot to poison its water supply, and had later been joined by Aayla Secura and the 501st Legion.
That was when the three of them realized, with extreme terror, that an "order 66" had been made by Chancellor, or by then Emperor Palpatine. At that moment, they had been attacked by a menacing group of characters, along with the clone troopers, led by the man that was now doing this to her.
Barriss… Aayla… I wish I could be with you now.
He pulled her thighs closer to him, violently, so he could go deeper. The strain on her body was overcoming her and caused her to be brought back into the present. She realized then how much pain her body was in and began to shed even more tears.
After what seemed like hours he had finally released into her. Her body wrenched, in disgust, underneath him, and her eyes sealed down.
The male made a low gasp, quite pleased with what he had done, and flung his head back to wipe off the perspiration from his bare scalp.
He then gazed upon the girl while having allowed each breath he took in and released to escape with satisfaction.
The trails of wetness on her forehead shined, even through the lack of light. Her brows angled down to her swollen eyes, as she tried to cease the rest of the tears that wanted out.
He began to crawl on top of her and then pushed his knees into hers, playing his dominance, which caused a slight whimper to escape her silence.
His face drew him close to hers and his tongue forced her into a kiss, which broke the barrier she had made with her lips. His tongue shifted inside of her mouth and gave birth to a nauseating welt in her stomach.
He let her lips free from his hold and whispered into her ear, "You are still tight as ever, Uriael."
He flicked his tongue over her lobe and she hissed in a disrupted inhale.
"Be glad that I found you before Sidious and Vader did, or I wouldn't be able to use your body to its full capacity."
...
Before she knew it, the two guards that had left her in the previous room had set her ravished body into the cell that she lived in. They then pulled off the chains and freed her hands and wrists and allowed her to fall ungracefully to the floor.
The door, with ray shields blocking her from escape, slammed down and enclosed her into her own loneliness.
The woman, Uriael, brought her throbbing body up on a stiff, blanket-less, and pillow-less bed.
She used to make an awful scene, as she tried finding a way out. Anyone and everyone that had brought her any type of sorrow and despair, she immediately blamed and cursed. And the fact that her chastity was taken from her by a creature that was well trained in the dark arts made her even more vengeful.
But she no longer had it in her to fight back. And even if her body was able, it would not have made it right.
What was vengeance going to do to help or change her situation? Was she to let every teaching and lesson from the years before she was knighted go to waste because of this? If she wanted to remain sane, she could not.
Instead, the young Jedi brought herself to her knees and intertwined her fingers together, against her cheek after having wiped away what remained of her tears. She then moved her connected hands down towards her heart. It beat persistently against her thumbs as she steadied herself. She began to whisper while having calmed herself-
"Illic est haud affectus , illic est pacis. Illic est haud ignarus , illic est scientia. Illic est haud perturbatio , illic est serenus. Illic est haud chaos, illic est consensio. Illic est haud nex , illic est Vis."
The tongues of what she spoke were unknown to the rest of the basic-speaking world. She had taught her master, Shaak Ti, of the strange language of her home world, but she most likely was no longer a part of this universe.
If that were the case, her master was lucky for having truly become one with the Force, which Uriael would gladly take over this life of slavery.
The verse she spoke, however, was known by all Jedi.
After having finished with her verse, she rolled up into a ball and fought against the tears her shut eyelids had held back.
"May the Force be with us all."
She had grown exhausted from her use and went off into a dazed sleep.