Entombed. (Semi-conscious stream of thought/Labyrinth of memory-woven illusions)

[Gildarts]

Hi there! I’m Christa Adams.. Sometimes they’d call me “Breadcrumbs” in my time in the service, for many reasons, not just the whole marksman deal. I was a great tracker. Could have tracked down my own fate if I had wanted to. Only thing is, now it is staring at me in the face. Or well, something like that. Currently, I sit miles and miles underneath the waves of the ocean, imprisoned in stone. I wish I could’ve seen this coming with my scope. The stone left my brain a little… Concussed? Is that the word? I’m a little hazy down here.

I’m taking this time to reflect. I don’t remember a lot of things, and I’m pretty sure that Behemoth guy took a whisk to my brain. I do remember Katia, dying in my arms for the second time. God, I’m such a fuck up.

I sent out a distress call to some person named “Klaud” but their face doesn’t come to mind. I don’t even think they picked up. Could’ve been the wrong number, think they’d come and risk their life for a stranger? Yeah, I’m not so sure either. I’d do it though, not much to lose anymore. Plus, I’m motherfuckin’ killer.

So this is reflection time part two. I’m tryin’ to sort out my memories. Fat chance I’ve got of actually doing it but uh, I have all the time in the world now. Who knew that becoming immortal would suck so bad. Primes must have it rough. I personally wonder if they want to die sometimes. I, however, want to live. That’s why this struggle will never end. That must be why I’m still alive, despite being a fucking statue at the bottom of the fucking ocean…

Outside my body, I tense. I struggle. I mentally extend myself. Something happens. A turbulent whoosh extends toward the direction I’m facing, but nothing else. I can barely tell anything happened, save the teeny bubbles that were churned.

My eyes narrowed, or well, they were frozen open, but I willed them to narrow to help me focus. If I was trapped in stone, I was going to try and break out. That’s just who I am. I’m Christa Fucking Adams. What that means? Well, I’m having trouble summoning that, memory mumbo jumbo and all that. But I will say, this is testing my patience, something that the torture I endured for over a hundred days when I was held captive by the Empire never did. It was there I learned to savor the pain. This is just… Friggin’ prison. Nothing fun or entertaining about that.

Maybe though, I can still my thoughts. Get out of here, or maybe now I have the time -all the time in the world, really- to sort my fucking motherfucking bullshit out. Yes, my name is Christa Motherfucking Adams, and I’m not really sure if that is true. But I’m willing to start from there to find out.

It is like they teach you at bootcamp, or whatever. Basic training they warn you against psychological warfare, but how do you stop a real life psycho with magic illusion and spellery from invading your brain? I’m pretty fucking stubborn and even I couldn’t fucking do it.

All I have is my gut instinct. Telling me what is right and wrong. I have to start with the basics.

The known faces. I remember I bitterly hate the Empire. Stormtroopers slaughtered my parents at a young age and nearly killed my sister Katia. Am I even sure that’s her name? Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. Tasted familiar on my stone turned-tongue though.

Okay, so that was true. I was orphaned at a young age. Raised and trained with skills of the military resistance on my planet. Then we took it back, or tried. That’s when both me and my sister ended up here. The Omniverse. I tried to start a new life in Coruscant. It was an easily accessible verse, and I didn’t hate the Empire enough yet to stop them. I remembered how I’d tragically killed my sister. The depth of pain surged in me. How could my emotions lie? This also had to be true. The truths were getting suspicious and then I remembered what I had learned long ago. Lies were best when woven with truths. It made them believable. It made them real. Somehow, I had to fight that.

But how does a simple minded sniper do that? I’m a soldier, marksman, leader, and sister. Not some fucking time-twisting monk.

I couldn’t physically closed my eyes, but I allowed my mind to close, focusing harder. A face, handsome, adorned with a nest of sable hair came to mind. I didn’t know this face. Though my heart suddenly leapt at him. Then, the leaping accelerated with fear. This man didn’t have a name. I was surging with fright now. Who was he? Was the the man who had killed my parents? The image of a stormtrooper helmet slated over his face like a transparent mask. Immediate hate surged in my gut and hot fury made me fish for my rifle, which was nowhere in sight. Of course it wasn’t, I’m sitting at the bottom of the motherfuckin’ ocean.

UGH. I couldn’t tell who this guy was, but I knew he was bad news. Plus, I fucking hate stormtroopers. Killing my parents and then killing my sister later? Coruscant was a bad call, but I thought otherwise when we moved there. Didn’t know there were other safe verses. I didn’t know a lot of things, only that the top tier of Coruscant had great security cameras so that I could keep an eye on my sister when out on jobs with the military. No, I hadn’t joined my enemy. This was a separate, lower tier ballgame. Still, they paid me enough for me to support my family.

Suddenly a blond man with pointed ears appeared in my mind. I didn’t recognize him. Though his face was familiar. Standing next to him was a dog that looked more wolfish than domesticated. Had my hands been mobile I would have scratched my skull. Everything was so confusing... I wondered at this point if I could take this free time and sleep. So far, things were pretty inconclusive. I found out I hated one guy, didn’t know his name. Called Klaud, didn’t know his face. Elf guy with a wolf must’ve been some stray commoner I met once. Was it in the Omniverse, or prior to?

It was all a blaze, like I was trying to find a needle in a frustrating fucking haystack that was lit on fire. Eventually, I felt like it would all burn and I was just along for the ride. That’s what curses were for though. Yup, I was eternally cursed. And I blame Omni for it. Welcoming me into this world as a worthless secondary? What a jackass.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a drink. Tasting alcohol made my stomach knot. Maybe I didn’t drink. I really didn’t have a good grip on who I was, maybe I never would again. The one thing I knew to be true, other than my name, which I was pretty sure about, was that swearing on my tongue felt pretty damn familiar.

Well, at least I could start somewhere.

Fuck. This. Shit.