Nameless

Breadcrumbs

Ah'kaedh eyed the brand new prosthetic that replaced his left forearm.

Indeed, forcing him into keeping the elbow had been a wise choice of the ooman.

This new piece was more a weapon than a replacement for his arm and hand, but 4 years in, and he was using it as naturally as he used his other arm.

He had other pieces tough, for different purposes.

It took time, lots of effort and patience. But patience was a lesson he had learned well, and after years tied up, he could not stand to stay idle.

He had been an enforcer, hunting two bad bloods. The mess they created in a ooman colony was what ended up causing their capture.

Those yautja were not only the regular type of bad bloods. They had an agreement with their captors.

Ah'kaedh was still investigating which group humans reached an agreement with those vermin. All pointed to an well planned ambush for just the enforcer, and the humans ended up selling the 3 of them (The other two ended badly injuried before being captured. Ah'kaedh was quite efficient, so the oomans had an easy time capturing them too).

He was not back to his former self, but it had less to do with his physical form (and amputation), and more to with his mind.

Currently he feels broken.

He found himself craving the Girls company, sometimes even fantasizing about being back to his enclosure, waiting for the start of their routine.

He always leaned towards controlling behavior, but he had a new found desire for strict structures - an emotional scar from a time when structure and routine was for a long time the base of his sanity - but one day that changed.

(And she became the anchor of his existence. The Girl).

But looking back to hell and wishing to feel the flames again was a tad too much, and he knew it.

He had isolated himself too. He was never a talker, but years in silence made him into a statue. Others felt uneasy in his presence.

Silence was a constant companion now.

(And he'll, he missed her chatter).

For others, his silence was never the comfortable type. It was more like when a forest ceases its song. That quiet that precedes the next tragedy, the nearing death.

That ooman had much to apologize for. He could feel his blood boiling sometimes, infuriated that she had asked him to live.

Because his life was broken. And if he couldn't fix it, he would endure centuries of this.

Alone. Forever separated from the only thing that felt like home.

He still hunted. But now he preferred to hunt oomans. Not any oomans, mind you. He was particular in his preferences.

He still had family, but they looked at him like he was a stranger. In many ways, he indeed was one. That still inhabited Ah'kaedh's body - or most of it anyways - so they tolerated him.

That ooman had taken something from him. What was it? He didn't dare to name.

But she vanished, and what she took, vanished with her.

Could she be dead? That was a possibility.

When she said she would destroy that facility, it was not figuratively. Whatever was there, was indeed wiped.

The building he had been held hostage had been all but pulverized.

He was at a good distance when the first explosion came. And after the first, there was a succession of minor explosions in the area.