Calypso Slaves - Your Lying Eyes

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"It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both."
-Niccolo Machiavelli

Thinking was like swimming through drying concrete. The effort it took Andraste to focus was herculean. She was supposed to focus, though. She was supposed to try and get lucid before...Something happened. She tried to focus on that instead. Before what? Before...She couldn't couldn't remember, but she remembered that she needed to open her eyes and figure out where she was.

Her eyelids were extremely heavy.

She managed to force them open. She could see nothing but a bright, blurry haze. She blinked a few times to try and clear the haze, and even just that effort required a few moments of rest, eyes closed and just gathering her strength to try again.

This time, when she opened her eyes and blink the haze away, it was much dimmer. Not too dark to see, when she finally managed to get things to fall into a proper sharp relief, but the lights of what appeared to be an infirmary were intermittent, the kind that were probably just enough for nurses to properly examine patients while making their rounds, making sure they hadn't flatlined.

It had probably been a lot more than the few minutes she thought her eyes were closed. And also, given how lucid she was, this was probably not her powering through the drugs long enough to come up with a plan like she'd hoped. This was probably just the drugs passing through her system because they stopped administering them to her. A tug at the heavy leather cuff that had her chained to the side of the bed confirmed that they had other means of keeping her in place.

"Oh, good, you're awake," said a voice behind her. Andraste tried to turn around and see, but her ability to move while cuffed by wrist and ankle to the bed was fairly limited. Twisting her head as far as she could reach, however, she could just glimpse an older man in a labcoat. As he walked around the bed and Andraste got a proper look at him, she could see a nametag labeled "Doctor Lawrence" and a holstered pistol underneath the coat. Doctors didn't make the rounds -- nurses did.

"Come on, doc, I know you're ugly, but there's gotta be easier ways to see a girl naked," Andraste said. She was chained to a bed and he had a gun. Insulting him was clearly the smart thing to do. But the alternative to that was to break down crying and she'd been pretty adamant about not doing that. If that one bitch lieutenant couldn't force tears or concessions out of her, Andraste sure as Hell wasn't gonna break down now.

She did really hope he was just here to gawk, though, because the alternative was probably that he was here to prep her for some kind of invasive surgery or neurohacking or some other extreme measure to keep her in line. And much as she'd tried to avoid thinking about it, she knew they could do things to her that would make her body, at least, cooperate, no matter how defiant she could manage to be in thought.

"We didn't want you, you know," the doctor said, checking Andraste's vitals.

"What, was Debbie too busy doing Dallas?" Andraste asked.

"We wanted Vodun. Apparently Alastor did, too, as he intercepted the police while they were transporting her. He didn't make a fuss about you, though, so we decided to make do," the Doctor Lawrence said. He pulled out a pen and starts poking the bottom end at her tits, pushing them around and occasionally clicking the writing tip in and out on them.

Andraste swallowed a gasp. "You trying to impress me? You got me chained down and you still won't get near without a pistol, and that after you shipped me offworld on day one. You knew Alastor was coming for me." Andraste really, really want to believe Alastor was coming for her. But she knew Vodun and some of the others were better lieutenants. Stronger. Maybe Alastor did just leave her behind. Well, fuck him, then. Andraste didn't need anyone.

"Doctor Lawrence," another voice from behind Andraste, but this one she recognized. The lieutenant. "The slave ready to go?"

"She appears fully recovered," he said.

"Good. The commander's not gonna wait forever, and I've got other cunts to babysit tonight," Mira said. She stepped into view and handed a half-peeled orange to the doctor. "Can you hold this?" she asked, and after he took it, she turned her attention to Andraste.

As soon as Mira unbuckled one of the leather cuffs holding Andraste to the bed she tried to grab Mira by the wrist, yank her closer, maybe strangle her or just hit her with something or whatever. Andraste didn't even care. She didn't really have any intention of actually winning or escaping at that point. She did at first, she thought maybe she could impress one of those gangs and be there when they rioted and help them get to the bridge before it detached. Or something. But that was a longshot before she realized she'd have to kiss their boots to even get out of handcuffs.

Andraste was falling back on plan B. If she could cause enough trouble and be dangerous enough, they weren't going to subdue her. They were going to kill her. And she wasn't desperate for an honorable death or whatever the fuck. She wanted to live. She wanted to go back down to Sacrum and help Alastor rip the place apart. She wanted to see the plutocrats rue the day they were stupid enough to turn their backs on meritocracy. But they'd already taken that from her. There was only one thing they hadn't taken from Andraste, and that was her will. And she knew they could force it from her if she gave them long enough.

The fight even went alright. Andraste pulled Mira nearer, backhanded her to the face, then grabbed her by the collar before she broke Andraste's grip, grabbed Andraste by the throat, and punched her hard enough to draw blood from her nose. Andraste had always been good at recovering from punches fast, but Mira was still fast enough to get one hand in a cuff and the other halfway in by the time she recovered. Andraste struggled, but with one hand cuffed and the other already in Mira's grip it was hopeless. Mira dragged Andraste off the bed and pushed her through the infirmary towards the exit. Andraste made a few token tugs at Mira's arm, but with her ankles still in chains she knew there wasn't any way she could actually get away from Mira. It just felt better to fight. Every time she did, for just a second, she felt a little bit more like Andraste, the girl who burned Sacrum, and a little bit further from being a slave. They could call Andraste whatever they wanted, but she wasn't a slave until she was doing what they asked. And she wouldn't. She never would.

Mira took Andraste across on an elevator (which moved sideways now?) and into a large room, mostly cloaked in shadow, with a single bright light illuminating the center. Andraste could see what looked like computer terminals and weapon racks in the gloom, and beneath the light, a cage made from what looked like chickenwire wrapped around a series of poles, the whole cage a circle about thirty feet across. One segment of the chickenwire had been pulled back to make an entrance. The whole room was deserted except for some barefoot girl in a blue jumpsuit working some kind of control panel set on the ground, a temporary setup rather than the permanent terminals in the gloom, connected to a bunch of wires all hooked up to jumper cables attached to the wire. In the cage was a well-muscled man, sitting cross-legged in the center of the cage, his back to Adraste, wearing nothing but a pair of what looks like military dress slacks.

The lieutenant pushed Andraste into the cage and then wrapped it up behind her, sealing the cage off with a few padlocks. Pulling her orange back out of a pouch on her belt, she peeled out a slice. "You need anything else?" she asked.

"Not unless you want to watch," the man in the center said.

"No thanks, I'm missing breakfast for this, and I'm not done yet," the lieutenant said, popping a slice of the orange in her mouth and walking away.

Andraste leaned casually against one of the poles and try to fiddle with the padlock without drawing attention. If you could just get one open...

"Back away from the edge, sunshine," the girl in the jumpsuit said, and a quick look at the jumper cables hooked up to the chickenwire and Andraste could guess exactly why this was a very good idea. She shuffle away in her shackles while a generator hummed to life. Jumpsuit fished a key from her pocket and tossed it over the edge. "Power's on, keys are in," she shouted. "That's for you," she said to Andraste, nodding her head towards the keys.

Andraste walked over to the key, picked it up, tested it on her cuffs, and they popped free. Then on the waistchain, the shackles. Everything came off. She ran her fingers around the edge of her collar, looking for a keyhole. "How do I get the collar off?" she asked.

"You don't," the man in the middle said, rising to his feet, still facing away from Andraste, and holy fuck he was tall.

"Who the fuck are you?" she asked, "are you Sin?" She'd never seen Sin outside his armor, but how many fuckers this goddamn big could there be on one planet? "What's the point of this shit?"

"Don't talk to me about Sin," the man said. "I'm going to play a game with you, Andraste. God knows we're all sick to death of the ones you've been playing with us. Rachel?" not-Sin said.

"Yeah?" Jumpsuit said.

"Tell her what I told you," not-Sin said.

"When this is over, if you win, I turn off the machine, unlock the padlocks, and 'watch what happens next.' He wasn't very specific about what it would be," Jumpsuit/Rachel said.

"And you will follow those orders?" the man said.

"Frankly, Master, I'm rooting for the redhead," Rachel said.

The man chuckled. He turned around, and now Andraste could see his face, it wasn't Sin. It doesn't look that different, though."I'm going to offer you one chance, Andraste. To give up before you get hurt," he said.

"Gettin' hurt's how we learn to kill things," Andraste said, putting her fists up. Not-Sin didn't move.

"I'll give you first shot for free," he said.

"You didn't answer my question. Who are you?" Andraste asked.

"I am Enlil," he said, "and by the end of the night, you will call me master."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Andraste said, sprinting towards him.

Andraste leaped through the air and aimed a kick towards Enlil's chest, and he stepped aside. She rolled into the steel ground and popped back up to her feet. So okay, maybe the flashy bullshit was a bad way to start. Andraste came in closer and aimed a few kicks at his side, and he backed out of the way. Andraste came in closer and tried to pummel his chest and gut with punches, and he swatted them aside, then shoved her away and raises his fists. Her arms windmilled once or twice getting her balance back from the shove. Memo to self: Enlil is very strong. Still.

"Still a chance to back out of this before I break you, Andraste," he said.

"When you're dead, I'm taking the ring girl as my prize," Andraste said. She feinted a high kick towards his face and then tried to carve across towards his gut, but he stepped out of the way, pivoted on the sidestep and brought a roundhouse smashing into Andraste's face. It knocked her off her feet and to the ground, but she was back on her feet almost immediately. Enlil made no attempt to follow up, instead just standing, watching.

"The strong do as they please," Enlil said.

Andraste knew this call and response. And she knew she was being mocked. "And the weak suffer what they must," she spat back, "I'm gonna show you why."

Andraste rushed in close again, intending to busy him with another flurry of punches and then try to snapkick to his knee and shatter it, to get an advantage on him while her stamina lasted. She didn't get past phase one of this plan, though, Enlil grabbed one of her incoming fists and twisted it back, forcing her to arch her back, and then flipped her forward onto the ground, her back slamming into the steel. One foot stomped on her stomach, knocking out what air she had left. Enlil dropped Andraste's arm and walked away while she gasped for air.

Andraste got to her feet and shuffled to the side, slowly circling closer. Even if she managed to land a hit, it probably wasn't going to be decisive...Unless she could shove him into the electrified fence. It probably wouldn't kill him, but it could give Andraste an edge, maybe be decisive in the long run. All she had to do was push him into it. She still had some good distance between herself and Enlil, and only about eight feet to push him before he slammed into that fence. It was the best setup for a charge as she was likely to get. She ran directly towards him.

Enlil side stepped, grabbed her arm as she passed, and hurled her further in the direction she was already going. She was about halfway through the air when it occurred to her that attempting to bullrush someone who was a foot and a half taller than her and significantly more densely packed with muscle was probably not very wise.

Andraste managed to get a hand between her face and the pole before she slammed into it, searing heat playing across her body and holding her tight against the wire for a moment before gravity took over and she crumpled to the ground in a smoking heap. Every nerve in her body was on fire. For a brief moment, her dazed mind thought some of them might literally be on fire. "What," Enlil said, "did killing all those unarmed civilians not prepare you for this? Shocking."

"The...the fence...Hurt less than that pun," Andraste said, struggling to stand on shaking knees. Once she was on her feet, a second wind hit. She locked herself back into a fighting stance, wince as she realized that the hand which absorbed the fence impact was definitely broken, but then slightly more gently resumed her stance and stepped towards Enlil, circling away from the fence.

Andraste staggered towards Enlil and aimed a punch towards his jaw, he parried it aside, she aimed another at his gut, he brought an elbow in to intercept it, she kicked at his knee and he pulled it out of the way, but while he was off-balance Andraste aimed for the jaw again and smacked him across the face. She followed up with another hook but he brought an arm up to cover it, moving away from the impact to disperse the blow and then rolling his shoulders into a punch from the opposite direction. His massive fist slammed into the side of Andraste's head and she saw stars. She could taste blood in her mouth. It wasn't an entirely unfamiliar taste, but this was a lot of blood.

She was on her knees somehow, and her mind was dimly aware that this was a very bad place to be. She tried to get to her feet, but a...Foot? Something slammed into her right side and sent her to the ground on her left. It was definitely a heavy foot that came down on her broken hand, grinding the fractured bones beneath it. Andraste couldn't stop herself from moaning with pain. Finally Enlil removed his foot and dragged her up to her knees by the hair, preparing for another punch.

Andraste grit her teeth and thrust her hand towards Enlil's groin, he brought a knee up to protect it, grabbed Andraste's hand, and squeezed hard. Andraste tried to get to her feet, but his hand wrapped tight in her hair kept her in place. Andraste jabbed her broken fist at him, she was beyond caring, and he let go of her hair to parry and then pounded his fist hard into Andraste's face. Andraste crumpled to the ground again. She stagger back up to her feet, stumbled towards Enlil and threw a punch, she wasn't even sure with which hand, but he stepped aside and pivoted into a roundhouse that sent Andraste to the ground again. She tried to struggle to her feet. Her elbows were shaking now, she could barely herself a foot off the ground. She wouldn't stay down. She couldn't stay down.

Enlil pushed her over onto her back with one foot, then crouched down and grabbed her around the throat, hefting her up off the ground. She gagged on the tiny stream of air still coming in her desperate lungs.

"S-stop," Andraste managed. Enlil dropped her to the ground, she collapsed in a heap. Then he dragged her onto her knees by her hair and pulled back a fist. "No, don't!" Andraste said, and then it connected and sent her back down to the ground. Andraste spit up some blood while Enlil dragged her to her knees again. "Stop, I give up," she said, and he hesitated, tilting his head to one side. "I give up, you win," Andraste said. And then his fist connected again.

He pulled Andraste up by her neck, this time, almost onto her feet. She struggled on shaking legs to try and find her footing, shins drifting across the floor onto weak feet. Enlil wasn't quite squeezing tight enough to block air this time, but Andraste could still barely speak. "Please...Master..." she said.

"What's begging like from the other side?" Enlil asked.

Andraste couldn't find an answer. She needed to find an answer. Or fight back. She limply pounded a fist against his forearm. He didn't react, except to throw her backwards into the fence, and searing agony coursed through Andraste's body. She wasn't sure how long before it stopped and she slumped to the floor. She lay there, just breathing, for a while. After several minutes, she grabbed the wire without thinking and flinched away, but it wasn't electrified anymore. She tried to pull herself up, but she didn't make it more than six inches off the ground before a foot on her back pushed her back down. She lay there beneath him, hoping that maybe if she just kept still, Enlil would stop.

Enlil pulled one of her arms up. "Please," she whispered, because it was all she could do, sit and beg uselessly while he chambered a kick and then slammed it into her elbow, the joint snapping and her arm bending the wrong way. The edges of her vision clouded. He twisted the broken limb around on its snapped joint and she could see jagged bits of bone sticking out of her skin before she blacked out.

Andraste woke up in the infirmary again. Her legs were chained to the bed. One hand was still broken. The other arm was perfectly healthy, but she could tell from the still-pinkish hue that it wasn't the one she walked into that fight with. It must've been too ruined for saving, so they hacked it off and popped a regeneration serum long enough for her to accept a graft. Now she had the arm of some well-preserved corpse attached to her.

Andraste tilted her head at the arm. This kind of operation was standard procedure whenever plutocrats suffered an injury to an extremity that wouldn't fully heal. Andraste had been a plutocrat once, but somehow Andraste doubted that the owner of the ship shelled out tens of millions of dollars for her in honor of that technicality. So who paid? Her family? Andraste hoped not. She hadn't wanted to be a Karling in a long time. Maybe she wouldn't be so hostile towards the idea if she still had the ruined arm and her estranged father offered to replace it. No point dwelling on any of it. Whatever happened, it was done now, and Andraste sure as Hell wasn't any less naked or chained.

Mira stepped into view. "What do you want?" Andraste asked. Her heart raced already. She tried to calm herself. It didn't make any sense to set up another fight immediately. They weren't going to pay to have a new arm grafted onto her just so they could immediately break that one in half, too.

But Andraste almost dreaded what they did want from her more. "For you to do as you're told instead of wasting my time," the lieutenant said, "I have much better things to do than wrestle with your attitude problem, cunt."