Alima Nighteyes

\*Intercepted file from Order's archive on S.T.A.R.S.\*

   "Code: Crimson Star

   Name: Alima Nighteyes

   Gender: Female

   Age: unknown

   Race: Human (mechanically enhanced)

   Place of birth: unknown

   Appearance: unknown

   Current status: unknown

   Location of last sighting: unknown

     Notes: A person we know so little about? Does she even exist?"

    Alima was born on Khepre during its darkest time, the 2nd war of tears. When everything was wrong, everything was ending, everyone everywhere was dying. Still Alima was born, as if to highlight her stubborness, during that very time everything else was dying. Her mother whispered "what have i done, why have I doomed you innocent soul" when she saw her first time and cried. Her mother was right and those were not the bitterest tears she'd ever cry.

   Four years later, a day like all else, an unimportant day for everyone else, the end of the world for Alima's mother, they were walking down a street. A street without name, unworthy to remember, a street her mother would never forget. Strong hands pulling the child away from her as she was screaming "Why". She got no answer. She never saw Alima again.

    The thugs delivered Alima to the Slavers. The Slavers paid them well. The scared child was taken to a place, dark, colorless, with faces everywhere, smoke and smell everywhere, moans and screams everywhere. Everyone was friendly with her, at first. They cleaned her, fed her, entertained her. Faces were smiling at her. At first. Alima was thinking "This is not so bad after all" even though she missed her mother so much. At first.

    Then the first "customer" came asking for something fresh. Then the faces changed. Then Alima learned pain. He raped and beat her so badly they had to bring three doctors just to keep her alive. She lived. Her childhood died.

    Few weeks later, with her not fully recovered yet, the second customer came. And then the next and the next and the next. She never understood why life had to hurt so much. She heard the word "love" over and over but it was an empty husk to her. An echo without meaning. She was unable to comprehend it. There was nobody she "loved". She wished they were all dead, painfully, tortured and killed like animals, treated the way she had always been treated by them. A spark was burning in her eyes but they never realized what it was. She spent all her days thinking of ways to punish and kill. She spent all her nights practicing with knives. Year after year till she was sixteen.

    It was then when S.T.A.R.S unit discovered the brothel. A Slaver's hideout with many of the "big heads" frequenting. The place was a fortress with security matching that of the High Palace in the capital. They planned their attack for months and they dispatched a large force. This was not going to be easy they thought.

    The absolute silence when reaching the brothel was unnerving. They started walking through the corridors and for many of them it was the first time they felt fear. Corridors painted red with blood and human members and corpses everywhere. Not a soul living, not a single breath heard. Who could have done that in a place like this!

    Recruit Koar was on her first mission. She wished she hadn't been so eager as she walked the silence of the corridors and the pools of blood. Then she heard it, a sound completely out of place, a lullaby? She pushed the half open door with a trembling hand and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was a lullaby, a girl's voice. When her vision cleared she gasped and froze in place. A young girl covered in nothing but crimson blood was holding a naked overweight man on the ground sitting on his chest and holding a knife on his throat. And she was singing! Koar spoke. "Who.." was all she managed to say before the girl slit the man's throat with one swift move without the slightest hesitation.

    Alima's mind was damaged, corrupted, broken. Love and hate, pain and pleasure, sex and torture, everything was one and all meant nothing. A mockery of words and meanings entwined and twisted in her. She remembered her first orgasm years before. Never felt more dead inside. Never felt more alive when she was slaughtering them all.

    Years of therapy were required, with every known method experimented on her, some invasive ones even (shocks, surgery, prosthetics), to make her functional again. Her interaction with others changed, her manners changed, her feelings even might have changed, but the spark never left her eyes.

    "She is too unstable. A liability" one said. Many agreed. Not Koar, now Bright Star. "She took out an entire fortress with a kitchen knife. I have never heard of anyone else doing anything remotely close to that. She stays." All nodded. All with their heads, none with their heart.

    They gave her swords. She never parted with them. They gave her a family. She never parted with it. They gave her purpose.

    Crimson Star was born.