Poor Unfortunate Souls [Saiph]

[Muffinzky]

Bones , the hangar of the Exchange, by noon.

The apartment was quiet.
The only thing that could be heard was music in the background. Notes of string instruments flowed between the walls and made itself heard above the vibrating hummmm of shuttles flying by somewhere in the skies above.
In the middle of the room a fair young woman danced around with a seemingly invisible partner, the movements of her hips slow and swaying. She was wearing a black semi-transparent babydoll dress, decorated with lace. – The one she had slept in. The dark wavy hair fell freely upon her shoulders, and she moved as in trance, unaffected by how crazy it may have looked.
Because no one else was there. The strings neared an end, and when they faded out, she curtseyed the invisible partner, pulling out in an imaginary long dress.
Then the strings started over.

As the slaver strolled over to the table, Refira dumped down in a chair. She took a sip of the tea cup and leaned further back against the chair to get comfy, holding her pinky finger out in the air as she was taught many years ago – a sign of an etiquette finer than those of her surroundings. She inhaled the scent of the spices in the tea: Sweet, like liquorice and a hint of something green. It bought back memories and made her smile. It was a rare occurrence that she could savour such taste on Nar Shaddaa. Not since she put her life on Hapes behind. So she let these moments of peace and quiet enter the core of her being and take her back to another time, another place.

While taking another sip, she picked up her datapad from the table. On it were faces – profiles and little notes and descriptions she had added to the newest “arrivals” in the Exchange.
Like a god, Refira swiftly decided their fate after an analysis of their abilities. She was fair, if she was to say it herself. The money she required for them were in a fine equivalent with the skills they could offer and their state of being – their health, mentally and physically. As well as their experience.

Individuals or species that had an aura of grace and beauty were being assigned as entertainment and were some of the more expensive slaves. Muscular or strong individuals could be used as guards, if they were of their best behaviour… Or interesting lovers.

Were the slaves both ugly, oafish and showed aggressive behaviour, they would be assigned to the category of hard manual labour until they died of exhaustion. Such beings could not be sold. No one wanted them. Or if she found them especially annoying – extermination. But that was the least of what she wished for. Extermination of slaves was an expensive waste of resources.

Tap tap, tap tap.
Acceptable… not acceptable. She swiped right, she swiped left. An extermination approval placed a large red cross upon their face. Her long nails danced across the screen, and the calm demeanour of her person as well as the music showed no regret… Then she stopped.

A young teenager, a blonde appeared on the screen. A deep sting planted its thorns in her chest. She swallowed a lump… Why was this still affecting her? This young girl of all the ones she handled every day.

Refira took a deep breath. Sat up with her back stiff. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. The scream was still echoing in her mind. It was only a couple days ago…

---

“I DON’T WANNA GO BACK! YOU CAN NEVER MAKE ME GO BACK TO HIM!”
She had run away… From a customer.

“You will do as I say. And you WILL. Calm. Down!”
She was captured and brought back to the claws of Refira.

The customer had, despite the contract with the Exchange, despite Refira’s clear description of how he should treat such a fine specimen, he had beaten her… Mistreated her. Starved her. But a deal was a deal. The Exchange had received their money. Refira got to live another day with a full stomach and blood on her hands.

“No, NEVER!”. The blonde tried to pull away from Refira, but the chain restricted her from running away once more. Tears streamed down her freckled, heart-shaped face in panic.
“YES! Forever!”, Refira hissed back.

A rusty door creaked open. The girl was pushed into a humid, dark cellar by Refira. She hit her back against the wall, the air punched out of her lungs by the impact. Then the door was slammed shut behind her.
“You can stay here until you come to your senses” the Hapan woman growled coldly.
By some sort of unbeatable spirit, the girl quickly got up and ran to the prison bars of the door.
“I’ll do anything! Anything! Please help me”.

Refira shook her head.
“It’s to no use, hun. Don’t waste your breath. He’ll be here soon”.
Then she turned around on her heals, leaving the celle. Her boots echoed, until they could be heard no more.

In the distance the screams of the girl grew more faint.
…

When Refira returned an hour later, she had a plate with a sandwich and water with her. She could hear metallic rattling. When she walked in front of the door there was no voice in there. Instead, when she moved a light source into the room, she could see the shadow of the girl.
Dangling…

Possessed by some sort of creative devil, the girl had actually managed to hang herself in her own chain.
Refira just stood there. No visible expression on her face. She didn’t make an effort to take the girl down. Instead she walked out of the corridor with an empty look in the ice blue eyes.

---

So many days later, the stone face was still intact.
Why was this still affecting her?
…
Oh yeah. That was right. The girl looked familiar. Like her sisters… The twins. They would be her age now, wouldn’t they? The memories were foggy.
Thinking about it… Did they even remember her? Had they moved on at home? After so many years, it would – after all – only be natural to believe that Refira was dead.

Were they well?
Were they being forced against their will to marry someone that didn’t suit them?
Like puppets controlled by a puppeteer, they would have no saying in the matter. The girl didn’t have any saying in the matter. And she chose the only escape she could. Refira didn’t have any saying in the matter back then. And now, she was no longer the puppet, but the master of her own destiny… and that of others.
Nevertheless, she didn’t have any choice. In this world it was control – or be controlled.
But she remembered how it felt to be a puppet. And somewhere inside her body, that connection made her feel very ill.

Did they miss her?

Another lump forced its way up her throat. She swallowed it, held it back. But holding it back didn’t help. The stone face was still there, as she opened her eyes. Though, the feeling broke free. It manifested itself, and a shiny pearl of water ran down her cheek.

The hurt and homesickness became interrupted abruptly.
-PING-. A small icon popped up in the corner of her datapad. You've got mail.

She dried her eyes with the back of her hand and forced the feeling back into the depts of her body. After a couple of minutes, there was no trace of any moral hangovers. Only redness in the whites of her eyes remained.

She read the message. It was from a regular. The representative had some complaints regarding one of the latest purchases, and he requested a meeting. Refira agreed.

When she walked over to the mirror she stopped. Caressed her face. She felt her fingers across the same patterns as she had cut into her flesh back then. It was gone, but she remembered it clearly, as if it happened yesterday. It was a part in the road she travelled to get here. This weird double-edged sword that was the freedom over own body and life she had always longed for. But somehow… she still felt captive.

This was her: Vulnerable, soft with her body almost bare. The things she tried to hide. Her hopes, her dreams, her pain. Barely anyone knew the person that was Refira and the sacrifices she had made to get where she was. Her history.
She laid her arms around her waist, as if giving herself a soft embrace. The person they knew was Filtz. The woman with the whip. Biting her lip, she remembered how the alias came to be so many years ago.

---

“HEY YOU! And who might you be?”

Back then she didn’t know any answer. The only thing she knew was the acidic, boiling self-hatred that threatened to swallow her alive from the inside. She felt guilty. For hurting the lives of others on purpose. She felt disgusting for allowing men control her life in order to get through another day in this dark hell hole. She looked at her hands, smudged by blood that was not her own and soil from the ground.
She felt... filthy.

“Filtz”, she replied.

---

With firm determination, she straightened her posture, putting her hands to her hips and spreading her legs to ground her senses and make ready for whatever the day would bring her way. Facing herself in the mirror, she re-embraced the thought that had traced her mind so many times: There was no space for Refira on Nar Shaddaa. Only the person she had become, the one they all could see.

She exhaled deeply, sliding the babydoll dress down her body. It fell to the floor. To give the last push she whispered the lines of an old song that came to mind… breathlessly, with a slight melody.

She started to braid her hair tightly in fast wrenching strokes.
“But I won’t cry for yesterday”.

The leather pants were jerked up over her legs.
“There’s an ordinary world, somehow, I have to find”.
After a couple of minutes, she stood fully dressed, weapons concealed. Facing herself in the mirror. The only part that was not covered up yet, was her face.

“And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world... I will learn to survive”.
She slid the veil down over her neck and lower face, masking herself from the world.

As she turned off the string music and opened the door to the light of blinking neon, someone that cursed in a foreign language and the sound of a fight somewhere, she looked back over her shoulder.
“What has happened to it all? Crazy some would say... Where is the life that I recognize?”

Refira clapped her hands, leaving the apartment in darkness and locked the door.

---

Filtz awaited in the hangar where they had agreed to meet, checking the clock. The client was late…
Typical. She could have spent the time drinking more tea!

Leaning against the wall, crossing her arms, she tried to imagine what problem there had been. She took great pride in categorising her slaves. The pig better had a nice excuse for insulting her professional competency, or he could get a few additional slaps with the new deal for free!

[Bones]

Normally, Lord Reyne wasn’t one to handle affairs that would usually be viewed as trivial. Usually, he’d send one of his household staff, usually his manservant, to liaise directly with a slaver. He personally liked to keep his distance from purchases such as this, but this time, Saiph’s blood was absolutely boiling due to the twi’lek that sat in the corner, naked, bruised and bloody, sobbing like some pathetic child that had lost it’s mother. Saiph, however, simply sat, his icy gaze never leaving the blue form as he lifted the glass of red wine to his lips once more. Completely broken he had been told, supremely obedient, and understanding of her place in the universe…” How far from the truth those statements could be. In his mind, he was sold a product that was unfit for purpose. He had the time to break a slave himself, sure, but it was the desire that was missing. He paid extra for them to be obedient and loyal beyond else. He paid a premium to have the slaves he purchased ready-made, and Filtz, his regular supplier knew how he liked them. Late teens to early twenties, fluent in basic, untouched, and obedient. This one, however, was missing that last trait.

His mind wandered back a few days to her escape attempt, clearly not knowing the capabilities of her new master. How could she? She’d been kept in a cargo crate to be transported to Dromund Kaas and his estate. It was how he liked it – they didn’t know where they were, anywhere to go, or who he really was. This one, however, had shown fight. ”Get your own drink, and stick it up your arse” She had told him before trying to make her escape up the chimney using a hastily made, albeit rather ingenious, grappling hook. It may have worked, her escape, had it not been for the fact that Saiph was strong with the force, and able to pull her back down from near to top of his chimney to fall down with a crash. Her bruises from that day were green and yellow now, different to the blue and purple of the fresh ones, and the burns from the force lightning that had ripped through her on multiple occasions were healing. He’d had half a mind to slaughter her, but he had a better idea. He wanted the young woman to tell Filtz herself what she had done – after she’d been punished by his own hand. He’d allowed others to use her how they saw fit. He’d kept her locked in a cargo crate for days, before eventually he’d had the crate placed aboard his shuttle, which he had boarded soon after and commanded his pilot to take them to Nar Shadaar where the meeting had been arranged.

He didn’t need to be told that the ship was landing. In fact, he was able to sense it. If it wasn’t for it’s low status, it could be the type of place he would like – full of evil, sadness and pain. He liked that people were suffering everywhere on the planet. It made him feel powerful and strong. It was a power that he allowed to flow through him as the shuttle landed in the docking bay his people had arranged, though he didn’t move initially. He slowly lifted his glass one last time, draining it, before it was placed back down. Standing from his seat, he took a few steps towards the Twi’lek, before his cold voice whispered to her, ”It’s d-day for you.”

Storming down the ramp of the shuttle, Saiph began to make his way towards the woman that was standing, waiting in the docking bay, the Twi’lek being dragged behind him by her head-tails, struggling to get to her feet as he moved at a pace that was faster than she’d been able to keep up with. ”Filtz.” He said sharply, his voice carrying in the empty hangar despite how quietly he’d spoken, ”We finally meet in person. Eventually the large, hooded figure stopped, and with a sharp pull, he threw the young woman down onto the floor in between them, ”Perhaps you’d like to ask this filth why we’re here?” He asked, eyes narrowing in the shadows cast by the hood of his black robe.

[Muffinzky]

…
This is no underdog.

Refira looked towards the unfamiliar voice and raised a brow. She knew Rayne by name, but had never seen him in person, when she assigned new slaves his way and sought out his requirements for them. The hooded Sith dragged the twi’lek after him in the most painful way possible: by the lekku. His steps were fast and even though his voice wasn’t exactly hostile, the tension in his shoulder showed anger. Still, the Hapan woman still didn’t budge, where a lot of people probably instantly would feel intimidated by his presence. Or by how large he was.

”What is this?!”
She looked from Rayne to the twi’lek and back again. She was naked. And her lip was bleeding. As when a disgusting object was being thrown her way, Refira took a step back and raised her hand to cover her face briefly. She remembered the young woman well. The obvious answer to her question would be: This, a Rutian female twi’lek. A fine one. It was obvious that when once she was sold, she had to go to some more elegant purposes. Pleasure. Dance maybe. Simple work that didn’t toil or wear her out… physically that was. But the mental state of a slave was never guaranteed.
She was beautiful. Or at least… she used to be. Now she reminded of an apple that fell down from the tree. Clearly her new master didn’t leave her unharmed.

“We don’t take returns. And especially not in… that condition”: Used.
Refira took quick note of the female twi’lek’s appearance.
It was clear that the Sith had played with her, and she couldn’t be called untouched anymore. She had some bruises on her face as well. The blue pigment of her skin now looked like a bizarre rotten rave party of green, purple and yellow spots that was generously drizzled all over her budding curves.
Had she looked more human, Refira might have felt sorry for her… But this was a twi’lek. Not a human being. That made it that much easier. The further away from herself they seemed in appearance, the lesser it made her feel. The better for business it was.

With a raised eyebrow she placed the hands on her hips and sent the Sith a tired look, like that of a nanny taking care of unruly children. But she had to bite her lip and watch her mouth. She didn’t need to create more potential enemies within the Empire. It was already a gamble selling any revengeful slaves to them. And this Sith way one of the sources for her main income.
“Lord Rayne himself, I assume? Myyy, what an honour. And yes”.
She glanced from the shadow of his face to the whimpering girl and back again.
“Indeed. I am VERY interested in getting to know why you would come all this way to see little me”.

[Bones]

The shock that echoed in Filtz’s voice as she questioned what was before her was not unexpected. In fact, her reaction was almost exactly what he had anticipated – shock, then recognition, then refusal. Refusal to accept her back, or to give any form of refund. To be honest, it didn’t matter to Saiph, in fact, it was completely irrelevant. He wasn’t here to negotiate a refund or buy back. He was here to make a point. ”No?” He asked, rather simply, though implying that he didn’t care through the tone of his voice, ”Lucky I am not here to seek one.”

His hand was lightning fast, his strength and speed amplified by the force as his hand was rammed inside the twi’lek’s skin and flesh to grip the young female’s spinal cord, which was quickly and forcefully ripped upwards, his foot on the woman’s shoulder holding her down as, with a snap of the wrist and a crack like a whip, the spine and skull were ripped from the twi’lek’s body. He held it loosely, hanging down near his hip so that the skull dragged along the ground as he took another step forwards, closing the distance that the twi’lek had filled between himself and the slaver.

”I’m going to give you benefit of the doubt.” He told her, eyes narrowing sharply, ”Perhaps my people weren’t clear enough? I expect my slaves to have complete and total loyalty and obedience. This one…” He raised the spine and skull as he spoke, before throwing it down at Filtz’s feet, ”Decided she wasn’t going to obey, and attempted to escape via the chimney of my estate.” He stopped for a moment, eyes flicking down to the corpse, then to the skull and spine, then back up to Filtz, where his eyes locked intently on hers.

”I don’t know about your views, but this is how I treat obedience and disloyalty.” He told her, kicking the corpse aside as he spoke, not taking his eyes off her, ”And usually, also, how I would respond to those that failed me. Did you fail me, Filtz? Or did my people fail to pass on my high expectations?” It was a challenge, and thankfully for Filtz, he felt he’d managed to get his point across with the, if he were to be honest, rather unnecessary and extreme display of violence, ”What I will do, though, seeing as you’ve provided me with a number of good slaves, is I will re-negotiate the price.”

”Twenty-five percent less.” He told her, his voice firm and harsh as he did so. ”Twenty five percent less, and two free to take now, to make up for that disgusting piece of garbage.”

[Muffinzky]

Refira could barely react before the Sith had executed the twi’lek violently. An audible gasp escaped her lips as he held her spine and skull like a trophy. Blood and spinal fluid dripped from the body part, and yet again – she caught herself staring in disbelief. Then Saiph took a step closer and minimised the space between them. She narrowed her eyes. Without breaking the visual contact he had created between them, she lifted her leg as for to avoid her boots from getting soiled with the twi’leks plasma when she in the corner of her eye saw that he threw the spine at her feet.

“Lord Rayne… Are you threatening me?”. She didn’t need any answer. She already knew that he was.
As he finished his demands, she proceeded starring to his eyes through the shadow of the hood.
“HA!” With the wave of a hand, as if the Sith was an annoying fly, she rejected his offer and shook her head. Her braid swung and struck the side of his head in the process. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it wasn’t. It was hard to tell.

“Don’t make me laugh”. Arms crossed as she started to walk away from him. What he proposed was just not a possibility. There was no way she could give fines specimen to a prize reduction like that!
“Do I REALLY have to do all the thinking for you? Your slave is running away – you tell me. Then find a doctor and make him cut her Achilles tendons. You want them obedient. Completely obedient, you say. Yet with enough brains to actually understand any conversation you may have with them. Noow… I could hire a surgeon and give them a lobotomy. Scramble her up… But then I would remove some of the things you enjoy so much. You enjoy that they struggle, don’t you? Yooour… Whatcha call them”.
The girls he forced to work for him and slept with.

“Maids”. It tasted so weird in her mouth when she said it. She knew that they were going to suffer once they were under his roof. A treatment she would hate to experience herself and rather would die than to engage in. But business was business.

“No-oh, Daddy o'. You will give me the exact same price, and I will introduce you to a lovely young female of the lethan variety. And if you don’t hurry up I raise the price for wasting my time…”