Author's note: apologies in advance for 9,900+ words...

No Good Deed

By: Absolute Edge

Incident VI

Controlled Suffering

- - - Sol-system Government's National Space Coalition Command Super-Capitol Dreadnought - Final Solution

"Come." Larson said as he took off at a brisk walk.

"Yes Master." Naia said quietly, her voice hoarse from a long night of screaming and begging and followed obediently.

It had been three weeks since the death of her ship and in that time Larson had made it abundantly clear that she was his property. At first Naia had resisted, like any sensible being, but he also made it clear that disobedience would be met with punishment. Sometime it was as complex as psychological torture, sometimes it was as simple as a beating, and- and other times it... Naia didn't like to think about those times.

Naia brought her hand up to attack the itch at her throat but shot down the thought and lowered her hand quickly hoping Larson didn't notice. The itch will have to go unattended least Larson take her action as an attempt to remove the collar he'd put on her. A thick metal band that slightly bit into her flesh causing it to bulge a bit, not painfully tight but just enough so she was reminded of its presence with every breath. There was something else too, about the collar, the inside had a long black plate of glass that was slowly etching something into her flesh. How this was possible she did not know but it wasn't painful and for that she was grateful. Naia had first noticed the results during her morning shower a few days ago, which Larson observes to make sure she doesn't try anything foolish. Yet, even if Naia could escape Larson's iron grip it wasn't as if anyone on the Final Solution would be willing to help her. She remembered it first as a series of gray lines against her dark blue pigment indicating that something was gently scaring the flesh and had looked in the mirror to examine it. Unfortunately, it was spanning the back of her neck but after a few tricks with a mirror she figured out what it said. It reads:

L. M. Temple # NSN 000.01.6500.472 # N. Ki'Sani

"Master, I beg of you a moment. I have a question." Naia had said softly while looking at Larson's feet like the well trained slave she had become.

She had just finished her shower and was standing naked before Larson besides a sink and mirror where she was about to brush her teeth. He always watched but never made any small talk during her showers; she figured he found some perverse thrill from watching her.

"I have an answer my pet, ask away." Larson replied from his nonchalant lean against the door frame.

He had started using 'pet' in a kind of domineering way, and probably to satisfy some bizarre fetish, when referring to her which, in Naia's eyes, was an improvement from the derogatory term 'Fesch' that he would spit out in disgust. Now, he spoke softly in a cool and level manor; he had broken her and he knows she knows it. Victory over her mind and body was unequivocally his but should Naia slip for any reason he would remind her... painfully. So, so painfully.

"Master, what is this for?" Naia asked running a finger over the bruised skin.

"That, little Naia, is what will keep you alive when you've proven your loyalty to me." Larson said stepping over to the sink and picking up her collar. He turned it over in his hands to examine the etching plate within.

"Keep me alive?" At this Naia looked up at him, it was an impulse to read his face. All that met her was the eternal snarl and Naia looked down quickly, hoping Larson wouldn't strike her for looking at him without permission. He didn't, he was distracted, and she was silently thankful.

"Eventually, you may earn yourself some freedoms from my side. Fetching items for me, performing small labors, or even having time to yourself. During these times we may be separated for extended periods and, let's face it, you're not the most popular individual. Many will kill you soon as look at you but this will keep them in line." Larson said stepping behind her and placing his other hand on the side of her head and turning it from one side to another.

"So, it's a designator." Naia said as Larson examined the imprint; she kept her eyes averted.

"Exactly. It says you are mine. It will keep you safe, mostly." Larson brought up the collar and slipped it around her neck, clipping it snugly.

"Why are you doing this?" Naia asked softly as the collar inched her throat closed.

"You belong to me. You are my property. I take care of my property."

"I mean no disrespect Master but I know you're not telling me everything." Naia said softly as he finished clamping the collar down.

"Oh? You claim to know the motivation behind my actions?" Larson asked with a soft hiss; she was riding along the edge of his patience.

"Of course not Master, I'm-" Larson suddenly backhanded Naia across the cheek sending her head twisting around and cracking into the mirror. Naia saw stars before she felt the pressure of Larson's hand crushing her skull it into the tile sink counter top. Her arms flailed and grabbed his hand and the edge of the sink trying to push up and lessen the pressure. It wasn't working. Larson was leaning over her using his body weight to keep her down.

"You're my fucking play-thing, that's why. Something I can use and abuse because it amuses me. Watching you suffer makes my dick hard and as long as your pain continues to entertain you get to keep on living." Larson hissed through clenched teeth.

Naia stared at his mask through watery eyes, "I'm sorry! Master I'm-"

"Don't worry about why I do things, slave." Larson hissed leaning in so his mask was mere centimeters from her face. "All you need to worry about is keeping me entertained. A whore such as yourself should have no trouble pleasing me. I have plans for you. Plans that could change everything! Keep me happy, keep proving your worth, and you'll get to keep your precious little head."

Naia shivered and pushed the thought aside. She followed Larson down a few corridors and to an elevator. This area was unfamiliar to her and Naia tensed up in anxious anticipation. Larson called the elevator and waited for the lift to drop to their floor.

"Master?" Naia ventured softly.

"Yes, my pet?"

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." Larson said after a second. He glanced at her and chucked lightly.

The doors opened to a well lit corridor that looked the same as every other: hard and angular, midnight blue paint job, dark and gloomy. However, one notable difference was the occasional red glyph on the wall; it was a sword pointed downwards with a snake coiling around the blade.

The temperature was also a lot higher and Naia felt a sheen of sweat beginning to form on her brow. She was still in the thick body suit from the Night Haunter and since it was better than walking around naked, even though no one seemed to care, she decided to hang onto it. Allowed to hang onto it.

They walked for only a short distance before coming to a large bulkhead painted white with the same red glyph from earlier smack in the middle of it. Larson waved his hand over a screen built into the side of the door and it slid open with a hiss. It turned out to be a medical bay.

Larson motioned for Naia to follow, which she did of course, and made their way along the sterile white corridors lined with regeneration tanks and privacy curtains to a back room. A man fully decked out in white, to include his mask which only had three slim black bars traveling vertically across his left eye to break up the monotony, greeted Larson with a slap on the shoulder that Larson returned.

"I hear the progress you've made has been described as, 'groundbreaking,' is that true?" Larson asked following the man inside.

The apothecary replied but... Naia didn't understand. For a moment, a very brief moment, she had forgotten that only Larson had the translation software installed as of now. So she was getting half a conversation which was not enough to find out what was going on.

"Wonderful, wonderful," the apothecary opened a foam lined case and handed Larson the contents. It strongly resembled a half-mask rebreather, akin to what metal workers or divers would wear. Larson looked over his shoulder, "Lie down on the table."

Quickly Naia hopped onto the table and lied down. She waited patiently but the utter terror welling up inside was giving her a cold sweat. "Master, what does it do?"

Larson turned the device around in his hands examining it. He ignored her question and instead addressed the apothecary who had begun rummaging through drawers. "This is some spectacular work doc. Who ever said that the Flesh Eaters and Cog Heads didn't get along?" Larson said with a chuckle before holding the object out to Naia, "Put this on, it'll improve your life exponentially... mostly."

Though Naia was hesitant as she always was when Larson tacked on that 'mostly' bit she took the object anyways. Perhaps it was as simple as a universal translator? Granted a large one but if it was the first of it's kind then obviously the technology just wasn't up to par yet.

-This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, such a terrible idea, don't don't don't don't do it, don't trust him, bad idea, such a bad idea-

Ignoring her better judgment, but also not wanting them to force it on her and possibly hurting her in the process, Naia brought the device up to her face and pressed it up against her mouth.

For a few moments nothing seemed to happen... her breathing was slightly obstructed by the device but it wasn't terribly uncomfortable.

And then she felt something... odd. Her breathing was deep but she wasn't pulling in as much air. Something touched the back of her throat-

Naia clawed at the device in blind terror, "Get it off! Get it offfggghhh-"

Strong hands yanked her arms back and held her in place while the tendrils painfully worked their way down her esophagus and into her stomach and lungs. Some felt like cold steel sliding at sharp, precise angles. Others felt fluid and adventurously prodded at parts of her throat as they worked their way in, they seemed almost organic... like... like... they're fucking alive!

"-Masthnnggg!- Master! Massttt- please I don't wanna die pleasepleaseplease!" Everything was blurry and all the color was bleeding from one thing to another making it impossible for Naia to identify anything in the room anymore.

Things touched her forehead and ran over and down to the back of her crests. They were fingers, her Master's fingers, he was whispering soothing sounds into her ear. "Ssshh... calm down Naia. You're not going to die. Let the machine do it's job. It only hurts because your struggling. Just calm down."

Naia tried to do as she was bid but Goddess was the panic quick to take over. Larson grabbed her hand and her twitching fingers wrapped tightly around his. "Naia, open your mouth as wide as you can and take long slow breaths."

Naia followed the orders given to her and... and it was no longer painfully hard to breath. She really needed to start taking Larson's word at face value but it was just hard considering his actions...

Larson pulled a screen over and turned it on. Blues, whites, and grays assaulted Naia's blurry eyes. After thoroughly wiping her eyes she tried to focus on the confusing image. It was... an- an x-ray? Of her upper torso and the white things were her bones... but... but the gray? Then one of the gray lines twitched and as it moved Naia felt the motions reflected in her throat...

"Oh... my..." Naia wasn't able to speak in the same manor that is considered natural. Air flowed over her vocal cords which vibrated to construct the proper wave lengths to form the words she was using. However, some of the tendrils of metal and flesh had latched onto her vocal cords and were... something... "What... are they...?"

"That machine is alive in a sense. It's a brilliant combination of the indomitable strength of metal and the extreme versatility of organic life that has numerous purposes but," Larson set a hand on her head and began petting her, "in your case it's been remastered and dramatically redesigned to translate your language straight from your throat and produce it in True English in your own voice for all to hear."

"That's-" she coughed once.

"Oh, slow down there. You can't talk to quickly right now. Remember, it has an organic brain and a machine brain. The processing speed of the machine has a cap far less than the organic brain. Neurons still shoot faster." He looked to the apothecary, "however I hear that's being looked into?" The apothecary replied with a simple nod.

"See, I'm just lazy. It would take months to teach you True English and I'm not too keen on wasting that much time on you." Larson clapped his hands together and walked around her, "So, now I don't need this code anymore. Good thing too, takes up a damn lot of space."

Naia brought up a hand and traced the device attached to her face. With a nail she gently picked at a corner but it seemed like her skin was stuck directly to it as if it's become a part of her. "Does it... not come off?" She asked slowly. Talking had become strange now that the little tentacles moved in union with her muscles. It didn't hurt now that they had synced up but it sometimes felt as if the tendrils were grasping onto the delicate flesh of her esophagus because they pulled at it ever so slightly... like when you gently tug on a band-aid it lifts the skin with it.

"No," Larson said suddenly filled with glee, "and since your not going into cardiac arrest it means your body has accepted the new organ. It will fuse to your muscles and bones and become a whole new part of your body. The organic material will leach what nutrients it requires from your stomach but no more. It allows you to speak our language directly and in your own voice so everyone and their mother can understand you."

"How do I... eat?" She asked in concern looking to her Master who was now watching the screen again.

Larson turned to her, "You'll be given a nutrient paste like the Dregs," he replied and tapping gently on the device, "there's a port in the side you can use. Don't worry it'll all be explained later."

"… Thank you," Naia said, now feeling the device with both hands, it was a whisper but Larson still caught it. He didn't reply right away though. Instead he stared down at her for a while. It's moments like these where Naia wished she could see his face. One little raise of the eyebrow or one small twitch of the lip could tell her so much. However, she was beginning to notice subtle tells in the way Larson tilts his head or changed his breathing that might be his species alternative to facial expressions.

They was all slight movements that might be hardly a few centimeters, if any movement at all. He leaned back, tilted his head to the left, and let out a short breath. Naia memorized the movements and- "You're quite welcome my pet. I'm glad you've accepted it so quickly because that mindset will save you a lot of trouble." -associated that combination with praise.

Naia watched the x-ray change in real time. Some of the more gentle tendrils, probably the organic ones, were somehow traveling upwards and into her skull? Suddenly, as if on cue, either side of Naia's throat started to feel... tight. Not lacking oxygen but more akin to being swollen. Then all sound started to dim and fade.

"What's going on, Master?" She spoke louder, like a fool, thinking her deafness was also affecting her voice.

Larson hummed and patted her shoulder reassuringly, "Don't fret dear. The device is sending sensors up to your ear drums through the drainage tubes at the back of your throat. It'll clear up soon."

Naia nodded and did her best to relax. She felt light headed but associated it with the whole process; it was hugely invasive so any discomfort was to be expected. Also, she started to feel slow, almost groggy, as if she'd just woken up from a long... tire... tiring...

"Ah, it's already started then, most excellent." Larson said, he took one of Naia's wrists in his hand and lifted it up... then dropped it. Her limp appendage slapped back into the table. Where the muscles should've held her arm upright they, instead, failed her. It took this action to bring the lack of feeling to Naia's attention. "You're probably scared shitless right now, heh."

"Ssssseeehh..." The muffled sound emanating from Naia's throat was just about all she could muster. Her eye lids were drooping too, so tired...

Larson laughed and patted her on the shoulder, "No you're not going to die... unless you have an allergic reaction to the chemicals being pumped into your body." He walked around to stand behind the table by her head and leaned over her so all she could see was that fucking joker grin. "You thought I forgot about the Night Haunter? When you tried to splatter my brains all over the wall? Well I didn't... surprise."

Naia tried to beg for her life, beg for his forgiveness, but... but... her eye lids were so heavy... I'll close them for just a moment, just one...

… and woke up back in my quarters. I lurched upright with a gasp and scanned the room quickly... nothing. Ignoring the wetness coating my naked body I stood up but a sudden dizziness took me and I had to steady myself against the wall to keep from falling. After taking a moment I crept towards the small bathroom at the opposite corner of the room -hah, 'room' is being generous-

The spartan cell was just big enough to fit a cot and a closet to store my clothes. The bathroom had no door and the water would only flow when my Master allowed it and even then I had roughly 45 seconds of something that apparently passed for water before it cut off... it looked like water, flowed like water, felt like water, but that doesn't make it water.

I grabbed the sides of the sink and leaned some of my weight into it, relieving some of the stress from my twitching legs. I had my head hung, staring at nothing in particular, and looked up into the mirror- I flinched back in shock. I didn't recognize the face staring back.

The flesh wasn't the luscious deep blue I remember it being; it had lightened to a revolting blue gray mixture. Was I sick? Sometimes, when I get really sick I might pale... but this was... something else. If I looked close enough I could even see some of my more prominent veins. After, initially noticing them they became easier and easier to spot; the light purple was extremely contrasting against the diseased flesh.

I closed my eyes for a long moment before opened them again to the horror staring back at me. My eyes had this distant look in them that persisted no matter how many times I blinked. My pupils wavered in the milky white; drifting around of their own accord... I looked like a fucking zombie.

I smiled- oh... that's right. The device. Strange that I didn't seem to notice it's presence until now. It looked the same... You know? For some reason I don't feel that terrified. Maybe I'm still in shock, maybe I've lost my mind, maybe- maybe- maybe... maybe the device has taken over my body and I'm just along for the ride now?

No, no that's silly! I'm in control. I'm... I leaned back and relaxed my arms at my sides. Slowly I raised them out to make a 'T' before reaching up to the ceiling. There was something-I brought them down and- oh no... There was a delay, a fucking delay! My neurons were firing, signals traveling at break-neck speeds, and- and- and something was interrupting the process? My eyes went wide as I realized what was happening. They weren't being interrupted. They were being screened. The device... it was acting like a security check point and checking each electrical command being sent out by my brain.

No, no, no this can't-

I felt my arms lower to my sides... I didn't want them to do that. I felt my spine straighten up... I didn't tell it to do that. I felt my neck muscles expand to hold my head up high... I... I didn't... my shoulders shrugged to loosen up the muscle and my fingers flexed out cracking some knuckles in the process.

Oh Goddess help me...

This area of the Final Solution was, like most of her new home, unfamiliar. The Command Super-Capitol Dreadnought was massive. As far as Naia knew the Command Dreadnought in the Turian Hierarchy's First Capitol Fleet was the largest ever produced at just under one and a half kilometers; she had heard the name once but it wasn't coming back to her now. This vessel though... Goddess. It was nearly three kilometers long! And that's the standard size for a command ship. A regular Dreadnought, oh, not that big really, just two kilometers long.

Naia smiled inwardly, she couldn't smile anymore... not really, and realized that unlike many other ships in existence she'd probably never see the vast majority of this grand monster. There were some places she secretly hoped her Master would take her to visit: the bridge, the main gun deck, land vehicle storage, weapon testing, the rest of the medical deck, and... the engine room. Strange maybe but science and technology was always fascinating, especially if they're from a different species. Although... this species doesn't use Mass Effect technology... Naia was quite eager to see what they had instead.

They came to a lift but Larson hesitated at the call button, he turned to Naia instead. "Did you know some Turians survived when I had their dreadnought destroyed?" Larson asked pressing the button.

"Oh, no Master I did not." Naia was genuinely intrigued but felt a wash of terror and sadness come over her as she recalled the horrors the Humans had inflicted upon their captors on the Red Jackal.

"Quite a few actually. Along with ex-commander Karak, his wife, and his daughter."

"Your mercy is legendary Master." Naia said pushing against her boundaries.

He looked over his shoulder and Naia flinched expecting to receive a verbal lashing. Shockingly, none came, merely a warning. "Do not mock me pet." Larson looked away as the elevator chimed and the lift doors opened for them. "And I'll have you know the Karak family is unharmed... mostly."

Naia cringed, she knew something terrible was going to happen to them. This was the man responsible for the death of Larson's father after all, and he wants her to watch. He wants her to watch them suffer.

The elevator took them down a few floors and opened up to a narrow corridor lined with heavy looking steel doors with blacked out and barred windows. Naia felt herself become increasingly uneasy as she followed Larson down the dark, quiet hallway. There was this odd sound just on the edge of hearing that softly whispered of the horrors that occur here. Muffled screams, whimpering cries for help, and soft requests for the sweet kiss of death.

A door swung open and clanged against the wall as a man stepped out in a bloody apron and red stained mask holding something that resembled hedge trimmers. He gave a respectful nod to Larson who returned the gesture and stared at Naia, his grip tightening around the chipped and bloody oversized scissors.

"Champion." The man said wiping the blood from his mask now completely ignoring Naia's presence. His rubber gloves did little to clear the ichor and did a better job of smearing it across his silver mask.

"Captain?" Larson paused and Naia halted a step behind and to his left.

"They moved your Fesch to cell seven. Something about audio conditioning." The captain said with a shrug.

Larson thanked the man and headed off at an increased pace which Naia almost had trouble keeping up with. They reached cell seven and Larson pounded on the door. A slot opened then closed quickly before the door swung outwards. A female with a crimson red mask greeted them and held the door open so they could enter.

"Champion." The assistant said snapping to attention.

"At ease, at ease." Larson said waving a dismissive hand as he passed her. Naia kept her eyes forwards but felt the hateful glare coming from the red mask.

The room was simple enough. Four plain steel walls with a thick glass observation window to the room beyond where the lights were dimmed to almost nothing. Naia's attention was grabbed by a quick flash of light by the far wall opposite the door to the dark room. It was a little push cart with a sheet draped over it, the shapes of items beneath were indistinct and vague, Naia couldn't even guess as to what they were. Though, she had a sinking feeling that the contents beneath the sheet would soon be revealed to her.

"Are those mine?" Larson asked looking at the little cart.

"They are, Champion Sierra requested they be brought." The soldier said twisting a knob on the wall.

Light exploded into the dark room behind the glass. The first thing Naia saw was Commander Karak, naked, beaten, gagged, and bound to a steel chair that was bolted to the floor. His wrists and arms were strapped bone crushingly tight to the arm rests by steel bands. The rest of his body was bound in a similar fashion to include his head; a thick leather wrap held his head back against a head rest. His bloodshot eyes opened quickly. He started screaming through the gag, muffled profanities and curses.

Naia then turned her eyes to the four large speakers evenly spaced around Karak and couldn't help but wonder how audio torture worked. Of course, she could make a few guesses just off the name but you could never be sure.

"Master?" Naia ventured, Larson was standing by a table on the other side of the room rummaging through small boxes.

"What is it?" Larson asked impatiently and only partially paying attention.

"What are you going to do?"

Larson chuckled and handed Naia a pair of foam hearing defenders and a set of sound dampening headphones. "Put both on or you'll be finding out with Karak."

The soldier scoffed, "Should just toss the Fesch in there. It'll learn right quick."

Naia ignored the soldier and did as her master commanded. Her Master... not the sick bastard who abuses her, not Larson, not anymore. He was more than that now and it sickened her on a level that far surpassed all the times he's hurt her. She had accepted this as her life now without putting up a real fight. Though to his credit he had been very, very persuasive. She existed to please him and nothing more... and she was okay with that now.

Naia shuddered as she inserted the foamies and slipped on the headphones. She looked up in time to see Larson insert a data slate into a wall mounted terminal and flick a switch.

Naia noticed that a deep rumbling could just be heard through the extensive hearing protection. Karak's eyes twitch and his hands clenched around the arm rests. She watched in fascination and horror as Karak's body suffered the audio torture. His right leg spasmed against the restraints and his eyes rolled back into their sockets.

The sound was affecting the electrical impulses in his brain. Sending signals on endless loops that the body tried to perform at the insane speeds being demanded of it. The test went on for an agonizingly long minute and only when Karak began foaming at the mouth did Larson reach over and flick the switch off. They all removed their hearing protection.

"I'm going to go say hi. Stay here and observe Naia. I'll be having you in there soon enough." Larson said unbolting the heavy metal door to the interrogation room.

"In there Master?" Naia asked concerned.

Larson walked past her and grabbed the little push cart, "Yes, how else do I expect you to assist me in the future if you don't know what you're doing? This is as much about revenge as this is about training."

Naia grimaced as Larson closed the door behind him but, being the good pet that she was, turned to the glass and watched regardless of how her stomach felt about it.

"Well hello there." Larson said leaving the cart by the door and pulling out Karak's gag. He began moving the speakers off to the side.

"Tech de krav? T'nier na krav mesh?" Karak hissed out through a locked jaw. His entire body was still tense from the sonic attack of the senses but he was visibly calming down, however his eyes twitched back and forth. The effects of audio torture would last a day or two but Karak didn't have that kind of time.

"I don't speak your filthy Fesch language and I know you don't speak mine." Larson pulled the tray over to one side of Karak so it was just within his eye sight and tossed off the cover.

Naia breathed in slightly, as did Karak. Glass jars of unknown chemicals, syringes of varying size, blades, saws, clamps, and hooks covered both shelves of the little cart. Larson picked up something small, rusted, and thin and turned to Karak holding it up so he could see.

"You murdered my father you little fucking shit." Larson said slowly and crouched down in front of Karak who twitched his mandibles and barred his teeth. "I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to hurt you a lot."

Naia watched Larson hold up the small metal bit, "Do you know what this is? This is a nail, and it's going in your eye."

Karak screamed as Larson pushed the nail through his left eye. A clear liquid pooled around the rusted shaft before dark blue blood seeped into the mix and ran down his cheek like tears.

"Fucking blue? Seriously? My pet bleeds purple and you bleed blue. This is going from fascinating to comical real quick."

"T'nier na krav ketch?" Karak said through clenched teeth, his right eye following Larson as his left eyelid half-closed around the nail.

"Yeah, no, still don't understand." Larson laughed and went over to his little cart. "But pain is a language all its own, everyoneunderstands it, so we'll just use pain to communicate. How's that sound? Here let's talk some more."

A banging on the door behind Naia drew her attention and she watched the soldier slide open the slot in the door before quickly closing it again. She opened the door letting in another female, only this one was wearing dark armor like Larson and where his mask was a snarl hers was a creepy joker grin.

"Champion." The soldier said snapping to attention.

"Leave us." The new Champion said waving a hand at the soldier.

"Your will." She stepped out closing the door behind her.

"So, your that Fesch filth that survived the attack." The Champion said wandering over to Naia. "You know I lost my father on that ship?"

"My Master said he lost his fa-" The Champion slammed her fist into the wall. The sudden, aggressive movement stunned Naia to silence.

"Same fucking person!" The Champion seethed and took a step closer, Naia took a step back. She felt the glass behind her and glanced over her shoulder and silently wished Larson would somehow know what was going on and come rescue her. The Champion planted a hand against the glass to either side of Naia's head and leaned in.

"If it was up to me I'd have both you fucking Fesch scum dissected and the remains spaced." The Champion hissed softly.

Naia remained quiet and bit her tongue to keep from whimpering. The Champion snarled and gripped Naia's throat around her collar and threw her to the ground.

"Stay down there on your knees like the slave you are. You're not worth my time, no more than the filth on the bottom of my boots."

Naia quickly recovered but remained on her knees as she was told. She kept her head bowed slightly and looked at anything but the Champion.

"Larson has a plan for you but won't tell anyone. Because of how excited he is I've decided not to kill you. I want to see how this plays out." Naia did everything she could to blot out the Champion but at the mention of her Master's name she looked up... and wish she hadn't.

Karak was breathing heavily, blood flowed from the edges of his lips and mandibles. The natural plate that covered his left thigh had been cracked and peeled off along with much of the skin beneath. What flesh remained had been pulled back and held down by needles revealing the complex musculature. There was a light white smoke, almost a mist, seeping up from the open wound. Something had been poured inside and judging by how white Karak's knuckles were and how tight his jaw was clenched Naia guessed it was extremely painful.

His right hand had the thumb removed but the bleeding... had already stopped? Naia grimaced as she recognized cauterization, Larson had burned the wound shut to prevent bleed out; cauterization was apparent on most of the wounds.

Karak's left shoulder was quite literally a mess of meat and bone with clamps holding the flesh aside and some kind of vice uplifting the bone. It looked as if it had been eaten through, more of Larson's acid play.

"Krav kai teh te'sein ya." Karak muttered.

"Alright this is getting annoying, Naia!" Larson yelled her name and she bolted upright and made for the door.

Naia gave the female Champion a wide birth and quickly slipped through the iron bulkhead and closed it. She was hit by a wall of death. The stench was almost beyond words and Naia held a hand up to her rebreather to block the induction ports.. Larson stared at her, waiting. She composed herself and walked to Larson's side.

"Master, you need me?" Naia said bowing her head slightly and averting her eyes.

"Do you know what he's saying?"

"Yes, Master, I should be able to translate it."

"Can you speak it?"

"It's been a while... but yes."

"What did he say just now?" Larson asked pulling Naia closer.

"He said that you'll never break him." Naia said as she was brought closer. She flinched as the stench of cooked meat hit her nostrils.

"Tell him I know." Larson said walking into the darkness behind Karak.

"Yah Heighma ferreh se dain."

"Krav de Asaria, nay de krav aditino ehn?"

"Yai t'ah te khaice." Naia said void of all emotion. It was true after all, what choice did she have?

"Theh en s'kha ai khaice." Karak said softly.

Naia shook her head and almost started crying, "Neh, theh en teh."

"Quiet!" Larson said reappearing from the shadows behind Karak with a small Turian child.

"Master, what-" Naia's mouth gaped as she realized whose child this was. "No Master please!"

"Shut... Up..." Larson snarled angrily, he was losing control of his anger. "Tell him he took my father from me, he was on that ship."

Naia hesitated because she knew exactly where this was going but she had been given a command and she wasn't about to be found wanting by her Master.

"Krav tare ehi t'nann dra ehn, se kal nen freth kerr." Karak stared at Naia as he processed her words but didn't respond quickly enough for Larson's liking.

"Tell him he will experience my pain, my suffering." Larson said pulling his pistol from his hip.

"Master please-"

"DO IT!" Larson screamed, Naia visibly flinched and took a terrified step back.

"Krav kai ehteren ehi toret, ehi serrerin." Naia said as tears ran down her cheeks. She looked to Karak who was wide eyed as he began to understand what she was explaining to him.

"Tell the girl to speak." Larson commanded with a gentle wave of his large pistol.

"T'pek." Naia said slowly with a sad nod to the girl.

The little Turian girl was crying silently and was pulling at Larson's iron grip.

"T'nann! T'nann sekai ya!"

"Father, father help me." Naia whispered, she looked away.

"Almost indescribable, isn't it?" Larson had leaned down and whispered into Karak's ear.

"Ni'skha t'eht'kha, en't ka?" Naia translated with her head turned and her eyes closed, she still felt the tears trickle down her cheek and waited expectantly for the shot that never came.

Larson maneuvered the girl around to the front of Karak and forced one of Naia's hands to hold the girls shoulder. He crouched down by Karak's side; the Turian's one good eye glared hatefully.

"Tell him he has a choice." Larson said scratching the side of his head with the barrel of his pistol.

"Krav t'ah ai k'ess." Naia said holding the girl still.

"Yai'ka na anna'khat krav mesh! Jha na'teh mayn yah t'sel niya!" Karak said squirming against the unyielding bonds.

"I'll do anything you want. Just don't hurt my little girl." Naia said softly.

"Either you do it, or I'll do to her what I did to you." Larson said pointing his pistol at his cart of bloody tools.

"Master please, don't make me." Naia said gawking at him in utter disbelief. Larson slowly turned his head to her and stared. Naia shifted uneasily.

"Khe'kha krav na ka, ra Yai'ka na nes lai t'nier Yai na'd nes krav." Naia said through a clenched jaw.

Karak stared at Naia before looking to Larson and the pistol he was holding.

"Te... Te, te! Krav seith kehsh'tat!" Karak yelled.

"No, no, no. You sick bastard." Naia said in a dry monotone voice, she forced herself to become emotionally unattached as she realized Larson's plan.

"Alright then." Larson said standing up and heading over to his cart.

"T'kerrec teh'ha."

Larson gripped a pair of large clippers and gripped the girl's wrist and yanked it over to him. She screamed as Larson slipped the clippers around the joint of her index finger

"Te! Te, sthai! T'kerrec! T'ketrec Yai'ka... Yai'ka na ka. Yai'ka na ka."

"No. No, stop. Alright. Alright I'll, I'll do it. I'll do it." Naia said ignoring the terrified little girl pulling at her hand.

Larson let the girl go and tossed the clippers back onto the cart. He crouched down by Karak and forced his gun into his unwilling hand. Larson's bone crushing grip angled the weapon at the little girl. He stared at Karak and waited.

"Yai'ka amek, Jhai. Yai'ka aih amek."

"I'm sorry, Jhai. I'm so sorry." Naia muttered softly as she held the girl in place.

"T'nann?" Naia felt the girl stop moving.

"Father."

"Ka'ameh ya." Karak whispered through blood and tears, his hand holding the pistol shaking violently, only Larson's iron grip kept him on target.

"Forgive-" The gunshot echoed loudly in the confined space.

Naia felt the girl sink in her grip and let go of her. There was a soft thud but Naia shed no more tears, she became cold, detached.

Karak began weeping as Larson stood up and walked back into the darkness behind him, leaving the pistol in Karak's limp hand. There was a shout and Naia looked up to see Larson dragging another Turian out of the shadows. This one was an adult, female too, and had her wrists and hands bound with thin wire that cut into her hardened exoskeleton. He dropped her unceremoniously besides the dead child and went over to his cart and rummaged through the bloody tools.

The Turian screamed once she saw the girl and Karak stared wide eyed at her.

"Karak!? Karak nay?" The woman cried as she saw the pistol in his hand.

"Lenn… Yai'ka amek Lenn! Yai'ka aih amek!"

"Lenn. I'm sorry Lenn. I'm so sorry." Naia blotted them out and focused on the discolored wall next to her. She already knew who the woman was and didn't want to think about it.

Karak blinked with his one good eye and dropped the pistol to the floor as he realized his wife had been watching this whole time.

Larson came up behind Karaks wife with a long blade and crouched down over her. She shrieked and tried to worm away from him but Larson, oh so gently, slipped the edge of the blade between two plates on her hip and held her in place.

She started to cry, Karak was yelling something, Larson was smiling, but Naia could care less what her Master did to the Turians. She watched now, after realizing that this wasn't about to stop, and learned what he had to teach. Larson's technique appeared crude and reckless but Naia knew her Master better, every stroke and twist of the blade had purpose.

Suddenly Larson stood up with a firm grip on the Turian's neck and twisted her around so she was facing Karak. He moved his hand to her small head crests and gripped one tightly. He looked up at Karak, then back to his wife, and jabbed his blade into her throat.

Karak screamed something, a name perhaps, but it was drowned out by blood that he was coughing up. The blade went in and out quickly in a circular saw-like motion. Larson pulled back on her head and kicked her in the back. Her body crashed forwards at Karak's feet splattering Karak in his wife's life force as her heart continued to pump unknowingly. Larson held the head aloft before Karak; eyes wide, and mouth agape.

Larson sat the head down in Karak's lap and picked up his pistol. He looked it over and wiped off some of the blood before planting the barrel against Karak's temple.

"Now you've experienced my pain, my suffering." Larson said twisting the barrel back and forth.

"Nehn krav'nah ehteren ehi toret, ehi serrerin." Naia translated her Masters words without thinking.

Larson squeezed the trigger. Then again, and again.

Naia wondered just how dangerous Larson would be if he actually lost control of his anger. This wasn't him losing control, oh no no no no, this was him focusing his will to a fine point and this shocked and terrified her. She couldn't even fathom what would happen if he slipped for even a second. Naia decided she didn't want to know and vowed on her life that she would never be the cause of his anger or the target of his rage. She will do anything to keep him satisfied.

Naia shuddered at the thought of what that meant for her but she knew deep down that even the sickest, most perverse violation she could think of would still be better than facing his unforgiving wrath.

Larson stood up holstering his pistol and stared at Karak's ruined head. Vaporized brain matter had back washed from the impacts and had sprayed his mask in a fine red mist. As it pooled and began trickling down the mask it followed the cuts that made up his vicious snarl. It looked like something out of a horror movie and the only difference between them is that Larson is real.

Naia took a breath and slowly stepped over to Larson. As she got closer a few things became apparent. Larson was still seething, that was more than obvious, and she could hear his breath shake as he exhaled. Blind range held only just in check. Killing Karak and his family would never be enough, not for Larson, Naia knew her Master well enough to know this would never satisfy his blood lust.

Naia reached out to touch his shoulder but just before her fingers reached their destination Larson turned. Naia quickly pulled her hand away and took a step back.

"What was that?" Larson asked firmly as he turned off the camera.

"Nothing Master." Naia said looking at his feet.

"Do not lie to me." Larson took a step closer, his hands clenching to fists.

"I- I'm sorry Master," Naia dropped to her hands and knees in submission, "I didn't mean to offend. I thought I'd..." Naia trailed off, her mouth opened and closed as she tried to figure out how to respond.

"Thought you'd what?" Larson snarled and gripped Naia's arm tightly and pulled her up so she was sitting back on her hindquarters. "Look at me."

Naia slowly looked up at her Master but as she took in a breath to respond the heavy metal door swung open, clanging against the wall, and the other Champion walked in applauding slowly.

"Bravo, encore, encore!" She said with a laugh, Naia was disturbed to find herself imagining the female's mouth twisting into very same joker grin etched into her mask. "I don't think I've ever seen you this upset before."

"What do you want?" Larson asked, he sounded irritated with the other Champion's presence and let go of Naia to turn and face her.

"You tortured the fuck out of that one." The Champion ignored the question as she stared at Karak's ruined body, almost admiring the work. She turned her head to Larson, "How hard did it make your dick?"

"You seem to be taking father's death well." Larson hissed angrily.

"You know dad and I never got along, he hates me." She said leaning up against the glass window. "But you, hah, he loves you."

"Why I would expect you to care is beyond me."

Naia wasn't sure if Larson noticed it or not but the girl, who was clearly a sibling of his, had spoken about their father in the present tense, as if he was still alive. She may have this dismissive attitude but Naia would bet money that she cries herself to sleep at night. All the regrets she must have penned up inside, the longing to have had a real father-daughter relationship, probably comes pouring out when she's alone. Naia could relate, in the same way with Larson, she had lost her father but that's where it ended. Naia never sought revenge for her dad's death, justice yes, but not blood.

"Oh no you got me all wrong!" The girl held up a fist with her index and thumb extended and almost touching each other, "Problem is I only care thiiis much."

Larson growled dangerously but turned away and went over to his cart. "You're a heartless fucking bitch Sierra."

"Fesch lover." Larson whipped around jabbing an angry finger at the girl.

"What the fuck did you say?"

"Not my words, just relaying what I heard." Sierra brought a hand up and looked at her gloved fingers, as if she was checking on her nails.

"Who said that? Who the fuck said that!?" Larson took a step towards his sister, his hands were shaking.

"Don't look at me, I don't know, but..." Sierra leaned off the wall and made for the door, "You might want to go talk to the maintainers over in the fighter bay. Oh, and by the way, nice to see you again little bro."

The door closed shut behind her leaving Naia alone with the bleeding bodies and the very upset man who killed them. She watched her Master with caution and decided it best to make herself scarce and be useful at the same time.

Naia slowly turned and, unknowingly, stepped over the body of the little girl on her way to her Master's cart of torture tools. Everything was labeled and though she was still having trouble reading the Human's written language the tool locations had outlines for them so that helped.

There were two rags hanging over the handrail, not nearly enough to clean the blood off all of these tools, Naia frowned and then looked at the jars and plastic containers of various sinister looking chemicals. Naia decided that one of them had to be a cleaning solvent so she took the lids off all of them and hesitantly leaned down to sniff them, going off the assumption that one should smell clean like rubbing alcohol.

She didn't even get close enough to smell the first jar, a liquid with a red hue, because her eyes began to tear up and she felt her face tingle.

"What are you doing?" Larson asked from behind her.

Naia leaned back wiping away tears and fumbled with the jar lids trying to put them back. "I wanted to be of use. I was-"

A hand touched her shoulder, "I'm not going to kill you but that flesh eating acid might if you keep sniffing it."

"I'm sorry Master." Naia said softly.

"It's the one on the end, the solvent." Larson said taking his hand back. "If you don't know then ask, you're of no use to me dead."

"Yes Master, I will do better." Naia said catching a glimpse of Karak's caved in skull. Her stomach churned and she grimaced.

"Good, I have plans for you little Naia. Can't have you running off and dying now can I?" Larson said stepping to the door and opening it. "Come."

"Master, your tools?" Naia asked looking at the instruments and then back to her Master.

"Such concern for things that may be used on you one day, touching." Larson touched a hand to his chest and cocked his head to the side; Naia couldn't tell if he was joking or not, she assumed he wasn't. "Leave them, others will be in shortly to clean up."

"You did make a mess of things." Naia commented walking over to him.

"We made a mess of things." Larson corrected, "You helped." Larson nodded to the little girl.

Naia didn't want to think that she played a part so she ignored him. All she did was hold the girl in place. That's all. She didn't pull the trigger or anything like that. She may have been involved, part of the reason the girl is dead, but she didn't actually do it.

Naia continued to tell herself this even as tendrils of guilt crept out from the back of her mind and wormed their way into her thoughts.

Larson disappeared through the doorway with Naia close behind. She noticed that the soldier had come back and was sitting in a chair by the exit. She stood up as Larson approached and opened the door for him.

"Thanks." Larson said as he passed her.

"Here to serve." She replied softly.

Naia quickly jumped past the girl and caught up to Larson. He didn't say anything for a long moment and was walking quickly. Suddenly he stopped and began muttering to himself; his hands tightening into fists.

"Master..." Naia ventured; though remained a few steps behind him.

Larson twisted and grabbed her arm pulling her along with him and he rushed down the corridor to the elevator. "You know what? I'm going to let you in on the secret! I'm going to tell you and everyone else why you're still alive. I'm going to show everyone what's going to be happening soon."

The ride down into the dark underbelly of the Final Solution was unsurprisingly tense. Although, Larson wasn't violent or screaming his head off in rage... he was uncharacteristically calm, seething like a barely restrained animal but calm nonetheless.

They traveled through some dark passageways that looks dirty and unused. Then they came to a room... this wasn't a normal room either. Large with massive pillars that reached up into the darkness fitted with vicious looking gargoyles and skulls. Some of the figures had weapon barrels protruding from them that tracked their movement with deadly precision. Things danced in the shadows as well, just out of sight; light glinted of blades and talons.

"Open the door." Larson said to the darkness.

Lights blinked on just in front of them. A wide blast door with nothing adoring it. Extremely plain and even void of the midnight blue pint job. A bare, gunmetal door- but wait... Naia noticed something carved into the lower left side of it. She squinted at the scribbling, unable to read the language, before something whispered in her ear... -Do not wake the dead.- It was the device, it was in her ears, it was translating the written language on the wall... but that meant it was... in her head.

"For you? Why should I?" The voice was everywhere and from a dozen throats at once. "What's your plan? We're curious."

"I'm building an army." Larson pulled Naia forwards into the light and gripped her chin turning her head left and right.

"You... are using..." The voices began laughing and some applause could be heard. "This could work."

A loud metal clang echoed from behind the door and it rolled slowly open, but just enough for them to enter; and oh Goddess was it thick. If Naia lied down she still wouldn't be able to reach either opening. Then stood on the other side in the utter darkness for a moment.

"Master?" Naia asked cautiously.

"You want to know what that device does? You want to know what my plan is?" Larson asked emotionlessly. "Look."

Lights began turning on illuminating the massive bay. It was long and wide and filled with... people? They looked humanoid in a sense... Two arms, two legs, a head... but that might be where the similarities end. Thousands upon thousands of these people standing shoulder to shoulder, back to back in more rows then Naia cared to count.

"These are Dregs. The foot soldiers of the SGNSC." Larson pulled Naia close to one and she got to examine it in revolting detail.

The man's flesh, what little of it he had left, was pale white with dark visible veins; he looked sick. He had machine legs that bent awkwardly backwards and back down again, almost like a Quarian, but ended with three long talons that dug into the metal floor. His left arm ended at the elbow and was replaced by a long blade that reached the floor and also curved back up to his shoulder. The other also ended at the elbow but instead of a blade there was a chunky, crude looking firearm. It had a soft hum to it and thick coils wrapped around his arm and disappeared behind his back. The mans chest was just plating and flak armor; clearly no expense was being thrown into their creation. Just enough to protect them and deal out some damage.

And his face... he has the same device attached to his mouth as Naia does.

"That's the same..." Naia touched the device on her face.

"That device controls the Dregs. They don't think, they don't sleep, they have no concept of right or wrong, good or evil, they don't understand mercy or leniency..." Larson tapped the device on the Dreg's mouth, "This tells them what to do. It relays instructions from Command and gives them purpose."

"So that's your plan then." Naia sighed, her hands were shaking, "You're going to enslave everyone you capture and turn them into mindless slave soldiers."

"Yes, yes but there's more!" Larson laughed and grabbed Naia and forced her to look at him. "We're going to hold a peace conference with your Citadel pals and you're going to spy on your old friends for me. It might seem strange, sure. However, there are a lot of you Fesch out there. Too many for us to declare war on all at once but... if we know all their tricks, all their strategies, war assets, planetary defense systems, and so on. We could strike with such quick ferocity that none of them will be able to recover from it."

"That sounds..." Naia stared at her master for a long moment before finishing. She felt like crying, screaming, and cursing at him... but that was only a small part of her. A part that was old and clinging to an archaic way of life, one that had been abandoned. If she could smile still, she would be now, "That sounds perfect, Master."

Author's note: I don't know what to say. I'm back! Hah, not dead! Anyways, deploying to Africa soon. I'll be on occasionally to read and review other people's work but don't expect a lot from me now. Nothing fancy going on. Just no time to do anything that I want. 12 and 10 hour shifts at work taking up all my free time.