Flesh and Bone and Nothing More.

[Subject 37]

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]​

​

Time went by as it always did. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. For Rigor the passage of time was an odd thing, the droid perceiving everything around it differently than the organics that so often surrounded it. The sixteen hours came and went, the Carosi system appearing within a hairs breath of the Licid-Class Corvette in what seemed like only a moment for the droid. A short alarm burst carried over the system, a glaring warning that the vessel was soon the exit hyperspace.

As one would expect, everything had already been prepared.

Two surgical rooms lay in place within the Carosi Facility, each staffed by expert surgeons and a single copy of Rigor itself. The equipment that would be necessary for both operations had been put in place and precision cloned organs, as well as matching blood, had been prepared in case of emergency. Vanir Technologies intended for this to be over quickly, for any and all risk to be mitigated, and for the two figures to leave this world happily.

Simple really.

Though things never really turned out that way in Rigor's experience.

 

[Aver Brand]

A single eye cracked open and peered at the world with a mixture of disgruntlement and alarm. Years spent in transit across the empty void of space had long trained the woman to ignore the incessant blare. She didn't jerk or burst out of sleep at the annoying sound, like someone else might have, and chose instead to elbow the body behind her in the ribs.

Pain lanced across her face moments later as she was reminded that [member="Loray Tares"] was still clad head-to-toe in his armor. "Motherkarker."

Muttering soft expletives under her breath, the firrerreo swung her legs over the edge of the bed and leaned over to fasten her boots. Rising to her full height again, Aver nudged her companion once more before heading out of the med bay to meet up with [member="Rigor"] and enter the Carosi facility.

During her short stroll, she noted the faint ache in her muscles, as if she were sore from an intense workout. Attibuting it to the lasting vestiges of pain promised by the droid, the woman shrugged it away with a roll of her shoulders and stepped past the threshold of the first room.

She appraised the people and technology laid out before her as she slowly came to a stop, leveling the professionals who would soon cut her open with a cold gaze. A warning of some sort, perhaps, though not a proper threat. While she didn't trust them one bit, she did trust the weight of the credit chits they were earning here today, and that would be enough.

It had to be.

 

[Loray Tares]

If she listened intently, she might have heard a laugh. One that echoed to the response of elbow against armor. But the sound may have been far too hushed to be heard over the sound of breath and ambient noise. Rolling over to her second nudge, he kicked his feet off the bed and tied his own boots back on loosely. What was the point, they were coming off soon anyway. Unless this was to be another disappointing procedure.

Letting out a growl as his body groaned forward, he came to a full height before walking the same trajectory as Aver. After all, the were going to the same place and she seemed to have a nice swagger in her step. Something to relieve him of the immediate excitement, the desire to lay beneath the knife.

It felt immediate, his transition from cot to med bay, as he surveyed the landscape of surgical steel and technology, intermingling in sterility. His gaze shifted to the personnel, then to the table, with a smile crawling across his face. Once masked in indifference, he felt a certain trepidation in the thought of being killed on a table. What a waste that would be. How entertaining, the notion could be, as he stared back from the depths of hell to know that his end came not in battle, but in seeking it. What a waste, indeed.

Un-clipping a portion of metal at the center of his chest, his torso expanded with a deep breath, as he worked his hands at the leather and steel. His eyes ever on the doctors, waiting to be led to his future place of ascension. Or burial. Or maybe both.

[member="Rigor"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

Rigor split the two up, each one attending a different surgical hall with its own staff and equipment. There was no need to do the surgeries one at a time, that would only serve to delay the process and would likely require several hours of rest for the initial surgical teams.

This operation had of course been tested on others before Aver and Loray had been brought here, small experiments conducted on blank slate clones as well as several volunteers from Saeva Incorporated. The surgeries had gone well most of the time, though there had been initial flaws that had eventually become glaring. Surgery of all types held risks, this one especially. The grafting of cybernetics to ones body always held issues, specifically when what these two wanted came to task.

[Everything is prepared] The drone of Rigor's voice would ring out to the two, separate copies of the droid standing beside each.

[This will be your final warning if you wish to halt the procedure] The droid intoned a slight bit of caution, or, as much as it could. [As with all surgical procedures there are risks involved, including paralysis, internal bleeding, failure of organs, permanent muscle damage, and of course death]

There was a laundry list of things that could go wrong, not to mention the after-effects that could occur once the cybernetics were actually in place.

Nothing was perfect after all.

 

[Aver Brand]

She'd done her research beforehand, of course. She wasn't the type to do anything rash, and certainly not something as profoundly impactful as this. The surgeries involved with getting grafts and cybernetics of any sort were always potentially dangerous, doubly so when they involved anything around the spinal column.

It wasn't like she and [member="Loray Tares"] didn't know the risks. Perhaps it was simply the life they'd led that had made them sort of desensitized to this sort of thing – death – and the many gruesome pictures she'd painted in her career had sealed the deal. She might have used a different kind of blade, certainly, but she was no stranger to cutting bodies open. Her own had suffered thoroughly throughout her career, from minor bruises and scrapes to loss of limbs. It was to be expected, with the kind of work they did.

Honestly, luck likely played a big role in their continued existence.

Maybe it was some big cosmic joke, the whole thing. If nothing else, it was a sure sign of a cruel universe with no god watching over the scrambling masses; what sort of deity would keep them alive while so many others perished? They were hardly the prime specimens of sentient evolution.

Or were they?

With a sigh, the woman stripped for the second time that day and lay down on the table.

"Let's get this over with."

Soon enough, they'd find out.

[member="Rigor"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

He listened to the droid speak, in as so much as he could. Fidgeting, he removed the armor piece by piece, returning a casual look now and again, between the pauses. The fact remained, he didn't come all this way to up and leave without anything to count for it. Besides, after all that juicy pain, he was primed for the main course. Assuming there would be any, he really didn't know. But recovery might be splendid.

The clothes came off, in the same fashion as the armor, until there was nothing but flesh and scars and ink. And a bit of lent, the likes of which were cast away with a flick of his left hand. Sniffing, he rolled his shoulders and walked passed the droid, stepping up towards the table. With the slow drawl of movement one might expect from someone thoughtful and tepid, he rolled over onto the table and cracked his neck.

He gestured for the surgery to go ahead. Death on a table. That'd make for a good laugh as he standing in fire, looking upon all the people that preceded him. And with a slow breath, he closed his gaze and shifted just enough to get comfortable. Metal was cold, just as he had expected.

"Skins not going to cut itself, Doc."

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rigor"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

As one might think, neither Loray nor Aver were the first to receive this surgery. The facility that the two had been brought to was primarily involved in the operations of cloning humanoids. This of course presented prime opportunity to fit and experiment with the cybernetic enhancements that had been requested by Loray and Aver. The experiments had been successful, though there had been several errors within the initial testing phase, errors that at first were cause for concern.

Subjects who underwent the surgery exhibited paralysis, dementia, nerve damage, and of course plenty of death. It was helpful that these subjects were essentially blank slates, clones with no real thought, identity, training, or even real consciousness, they were simply anatomically correct dolls. Some might have thought this cruel, but it was the reality of experimentation and the furthering of technological understanding. These subjects were necessary in order for science to advance, and since they were essentially unfeeling unthinking dolls they were perfectly suited as guinea pigs. It also meant that no real people were harmed during the actual course of testing.

All of this was to say, that the surgeons who performed upon Aver and Loray were perfectly practiced in the experiment that was to be performed today.

The Surgery, as Rigor stated took several hours for each of the subject. Their backs were sliced open and skin practically peeled back, their nervous and skeletal system exposed. Cybernetics were grafted to their own body structure. At certain points both subjects went through stages of heart failure and what some might presume to be death, though of course both were swiftly brought back to life by the operating team. Eventually, after a grueling nineteen hours of surgery Loray was the first to finish.

Avery's slightly more complex anatomical system requiring an additional three hours.

Both subjects however managed to make it through the surgery, the cybernetics being put into place and the subjects themselves being submersed in separate bacta tanks in order to speed their recovery. Aspha being prepared just in case of sudden...complications.

 

[Aver Brand]

Considering the sorts of seedy strata of society she used to mingle with, one would naturally presume that Aver was well-versed in the many sorts of highs one could experience when sampling one of the many drugs in the fine selection offered by the Galactic marked.

They would be wrong.

In all her years, Ygdris Val had been high exactly once, and then with much classier company. Well, more refined, anyway. At least in the art of killing, and for one member of the trio, in fashion sense. The rest of their sophistication was highly debatable, and if it were ever present, they had all discarded it on the altar of power and pragmatism long ago.

Through swimming vision, as her eyelids drooped and her mouth pulled into a dopey smile, it occurred to the woman that she'd met them a whole decade ago.

Sweet kark, was the last eloquent thought flickering through her mind before the firrerreo blacked out completely, lying still and unmoving for the complement of surgeons to cut her open as they pleased. No doubt [member="Loray Tares"] would have been jealous of the privilege, had he been conscious.

The unique combination of the anesthesia and the treatment she'd received back on the ship made for a potent cocktail that had her out cold for the duration of the surgery. She dreamed of nothing but an empty, desolate waste of corpse-gray sand [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had once described to her. Vivid recollections not her own crawled into her vision from unseen burrows beneath the dunes, red and black scrambled over each other in a mess of limbs and heads and torsos attached at unnatural angles, disturbing the quietude of the desert.

They grew bigger and ever more voracious, threatening to consume her whole at one point, but a flash of blinding light had come to rend them apart, splitting maggoty flesh with the tell-tale wet sound of over-ripe fruit. Gore and glossy chitin rained down like shrapnel around her, but in the end she stood unharmed, walking through the field of spires back towards the sliver of white spilling onto the discolored sands from a crack in the distant wall.

When she came to, her first instinct was to gasp for air; one she quickly regretted as she struggled with the breathing mask attached to her face. With eyes wide open, Aver glanced rapidly around, taking a few moments to recognize her surroundings as a bacta tank. Her heart settled down then, and her icy gaze grew distant as the woman took stock of all her faculties, carefully flexing every muscle she knew how. From toes to the quirk of her left brow, the firrerreo tested them all until she was satisfied that no nerves were misfiring.

Now to figure out just how long she would be stuck here.

[member="Rigor"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

To sleep, to dream, to embrace the stillness of the dark. The particular mastery of the doctors sent the melancholic psychopath into a deep abyss, the sort of reminiscing limbo between the peaceful end he might have accidentally sought and the chaotic life he savagely beat into his own machinations. There was a quiet and soothing slumber, the light overhead shifting slowly into a great narrowing beam, focusing in on his body and sucking him in. Just in time to send him away, sent him far out while the doctors fileted and pulled him apart.

Hyperdrive had never been anything he fashioned as comfortable. Spending most of it in sleep, he could recall the rare occasions of the aimless drift and the way the stars flicked past like snow in a heavy storm. Worlds, civilizations, and all that entropy left in his wake. Untarnished, unmolested by his hand. Dreams turned into the nightmares of a life that never managed to come to fruition. A fear that lingered deep within, clinging to the notions of a purpose left incomplete. Fear was something he sought, to cling to, but never to be trapped with and unable to escape. What might be the race of a heart from excitement would turn to a flutter of anxiety, the sort he didn't desire.

A beast chasing a car, not knowing what to do with it now that he had caught it.

Blinking his singular vision open, he moved only to feel the spastic pain shoot through the course of his back and down his spine. He would have let out a groan but it was muffled by the mask over his mouth, sloshing of bacta in the tank as he moved. Through the pain, he completed cursory exercises. Touching his fingers, wiggling his toes, and tilting his neck just slightly. To survey the world around him through the filter of the tub.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Rigor"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]​

​

[Bacta] Rigor's voice would ring out to each of the two cyborgs, it's droning monotone sounding within the separate chambers. The droid doubted that they required explanation, but it never quite understood exactly whether or not Organics were capable of fully grasping a situation at any point in time, thus it was better to explain everything to them in case they lashed out within their confusion. Organics tended to do that, strike when they didn't understand something.

Simple things, organics.

[The surgery was a success] The two droids moved in tandem, walking through the empty chamber until they stood before the tubes of bacta. It would have been comical, nearly, had there been a camera to record the actions. [You will have to remain within recuperation for three to four days to allow your body to recover]

Rigor did not wonder why the Organics had sought out this surgery, it was only natural that they would try to improve themselves.

[Your recovery is still slowed due to the serum] That was the first time only one of the droids spoke, speaking to Aver, the other remaining silent in front of Loray.

 

[Aver Brand]

More quickly than her body would have liked, Aver swiveled towards the origin of the monotone voice, wincing with pain as she did. A scoring sting raced down the length of her spine, making every nerve ending burst up in flames.

The woman hissed into her breathing mask, distinctly unused to such lingering pain.

Even the worst of injuries stuck around for half a day at best, leaving behind only a distinct feeling of discomfort where a gaping hole might have been hours previous. The droid provided an explanation, but it was hardly satisfactory. Her eyes narrowed at his distorted image through the gellatinous liquid, and with some maneuvering, the woman moved flush against the glass.

Pressing her hands to the cool surface, the firrerreo leaned closer, meeting [member="Rigor"]'s impassive photoreceptors with a steely gaze.

"How long will the effects last?"

Her voice sounded muted even to her own ears, distorted by the rebreather covering her mouth. Force, she needed to get out of here.

Ramming a futile fist against the glass in a half-hearted attempt, Aver was caught unprepared for the surge of agony that blossomed along her nerves, distorting her features into a toothy scowl. Even more surprising was the ease of the motion, however, and as the pain faded, the woman couldn't help but wonder what a full-powered punch would feel like.

Glancing back up at the droid, she resolved to wait. She could be patient.

She would be patient.

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Loray Tares]

Listening to the words spoken by the droid, Loray looked down the length of his body with an upwards tilt of his neck. Turning his arms over to inspect scarring, new trails of memories and moments and stories. The walking talking annals of a Sith Lord who lost his mind. And each movement was plastered with a swath of pain, two coats, and the lingering popping of synapses. His body flexed rigid as he felt it course through him, arching his back as he pressed a hand against the frame of the tank.

Walking fingers along the clear membrane between him and the droid, a smile was formed and masked behind the rebreather.

"Three to four days of this." His index finger drew a heart in the membrane before letting the limb float back towards his body. "Wake me up when it's time to go."

What more could the man ask? He had survived the surgery, was in relatively persistent pain, and the cocktail of increased reflexes and strength. It was all the mixture of qualities he needed to be happy with this current situation. Tilting his head back to position of function, looking towards the roof, he closed his crimson gaze and slowed his breath to truly appreciate the stimuli.

[member="Rigor"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Aver Brand"]​

​

[Very well] This was the second time that the droids had spoken out of sync, the one that had faced Loray simply acknowledging the Organics request to be alone. The Recovery would take time, that was only natural. They were both cyborgs now, but they were still mostly organic, and that came with it's own flaws. Repairs to their system would take time, more time than it would for Rigor to replace an entire arm or leg. The droid thought it strange that they had not opted for more enhancements, but who was it to question their ways.

As the droid before Loray left, the copy before Aver simply stared.

[Several days] It stated simply in answer, not even flinching at the womans outburst. [Perhaps longer]

It wasn't exactly able to tell the future after all. [Though the serum was design with you in mind, it's application and testing was based on similar species with your own regenerative properties. Your kind are rare, and we had to make due with what was available. Genetic samples and testing ensured that the Serum was safe, but it's whole effects on your body will linger for a time]

Though it would not remain indefinitely.

Eventually the serum would be filtered out by the womans own vital organs, it would simply take time. Of course during that time her she would have to ensure that she didn't injure herself, but since both of them would need to go through physical therapy in order to get used to their new cybernetics Rigor hardly doubted that would be an issue, though then again the Droid was hardly able to predict what Organics would think or do at any time.

Odd creatures as they were.

 

[Aver Brand]

A dramatic groan crawled out of her sore throat, but Aver resisted the temptation to hit her forehead against the thick glass of the tank. Would do her jack all good; in fact, it would do the exact opposite.

Snarling at nothing in particular, the mercenary stared at [member="Rigor"] for a few long moments. Deliberating. Fuming. Deliberating some more.

Finally, she let go of the useless anger boiling in her veins, unclenched her fists, and spoke again.

“After we get out of here… do you have any place we could test these things out? A test chamber or something?”

She wasn’t about to walk out without verifying the quality of the product. They’d paid good money – well, not money, per se – and while the service so far had been adequate to the amount invested, the woman was far more interested in the end result.

That, and she was itching to bury herself to the elbows in something alive and pulsing; a byproduct of the serum, no doubt. The firrerreo was wired to claw at anything that moved if her regen were ever to falter; her body was running on several chemicals, some her own, some synthetic, and there was no telling what sort of havoc they were wreaking in her system.

There was only one solution.

“Say, droid. Have you got anything to eat?”

[member="Loray Tares"]​

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Aver Brand"]

Rigor stood in place before the woman. [No]

Aver, like Loray was of course being fed through a series of nutrients fed into their system via IV. It was standard protocol for being contained within a bacta tank of course, and there was no way that the woman actually could consume food without removing the tube from her throat, an action that would be inadvisable to say the least. Of course the subtle nuance of the request, and perhaps even the intent behind it was completely lost on Rigor.

The droid didn't often pick up on the social queues or needs of organics.

Rigor found it difficult to discern what Organics truly wanted, even when they directly asked. It had come to the understanding that at times when an organic asked for something they were using subtle tone to actually ask for something else. This had been pointed out to him by Kiran Vess, the aged Zeltron having described something known as sarcasm.

The discussion had been an odd one, not exactly thrilling for either beings involved.

[You will be released in three days] Rigor commented. [You may attend the mess-hall then]

 

[Aver Brand]

A few bubbles hurried towards the surface as the woman pushed off the glass, careful despite her annoyance to moderate the amount of strength she used. Her mood would scarcely improve if she found herself beached on the floor in a puddle of bacta and shards. Forcing the scowl to dissipate before it ever dared appear, Aver stretched slowly in an effort to find the most comfortable position that her current circumstances allowed.

Realizing that ‘comfort’ was a long way off, the newly-anointed cyborg allowed her body to float freely in the viscous liquid, knowing it was the best she would get. The scars along her back and limbs still itched, and the skin was flushed purple in places, raised from the surface in a crude attempt at a bas-relief.

“See you in three days, then.”

Allowing the tug of [member="Loray Tares"]’ conscience to get a good grip on her own, Aver closed her eyes and followed his suit into the comparatively welcome embrace of oblivion.

And then finally, the killer didn’t dream anything at all.


[member="Rigor"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Loray Tares"]​

​

The droid nodded. There was no point to further prompting conversation with either of the two organic beings, they had survived the procedure and both seemed to be physically, as well as mentally still in check. The latter had always been the greater concern, that they would break mentally. Cybernetics were never quite as simple as one would think, mostly because they connected to the bodies central nervous system. The addition of new systems to the brain were often complicated, with there historically being issues of the two synchronizing properly.

Time would tell if the procedure had been completely successful for Loray and Aver, but for now it seemed that both were still sane.

[Very well] Rigor gave in answer, not bothering with any other parting words as it turned on it's heel and shifted out of the room. Within a few echoing steps the droid found itself in the hall, quickly returning to it's other endeavors around the Charosi Facility.

Over the next few days the two subjects would learn what the procedure had truly done to them. Of course the system was quite simple, a graft of cybernetics along the bodies spine and major muscle groups, and enhances of strength and reaction time. The procedure would leave scars marring their body, but it would give them strength and agility that most humans could not even dream about. For Aver and Loray it would be a complex process of physical therapy, relearning how to utilize their bodies and acquiescing themselves to new found strength and agility. The process would take time, and training, both of which would be provided by Vanir Technologies.

All had been prepared.

All would be seen to.