[BIO COMP] - REFLECTION DAY 2 - BIOGRAPHY
VOLERON BIOGRAPHY #REFLECTIONDAY2
MIRROR UNIVERSE: BOUNTY HUNTER VERSION
Voleron screamed in agony as the Romulan blade dragged slowly across his bare chest, each serration tearing through his exposed flesh and leaving copious amounts of bright red, oozing blood in it's wake. The excruciating sensation of burning left by the multiple incisions of the dull and rusted utensil was second only to the chafing of the barbed metal wire that bound Voleron's extremities behind the interrogation style chair in which he'd been forcibly confined.
"Did you really believe that you could murder me on my own vessel?" whispered the Romulan tormentor calmly, as he leaned slowly in to Voleron's left ear with a subdued but noticeable smirk of satisfaction on his face. "I admire your audacity", he continued, "it's nearly fitting of a Romulan... though a Romulan wouldn't have allowed himself to be captured so easily." Voleron breathed rapidly through his broken and bloodied nose, his heart rate increasing, waiting expectantly for the next round of inquisition style torment to begin. Voleron's brisk inhalations detected the subtle, wafting odour of Romulan Ale on the breath of the young Tal Shiar commander, a bottle of which, he'd patiently observed his target consume in his quarters nearly an hour ago. Voleron had concealed himself in the commander's sonic shower while waiting for an opportune moment to carry out his gruesome task, but as the minutes passed and his observations of his target through the semi-opaque glass continued, Voleron found himself strangely and quite unexpectedly captivated by the Romulan, whose delicate movements and defined body commanded attention, once released from the confines of his para-military uniform. His had been a lonely life and so entranced had Voleron become by observing his prey that he'd not noticed that his presence had been detected.
A sudden and unexpected pain now traversed Voleron's head as the Commander back-handed him across his face, deviating the septum of his already fractured nose and delivering Voleron into temporary unconsciousness. Such was the price of hesitation; for allowing emotions to supersede duty and for permitting himself a momentary emotional indulgence.
**
Voleron had been only twenty-three when he'd been violently recruited as an agent for the temporal division of the Terran Empire's foreboding Section 31. Trill were frequently conscripted for this dubious honour on account of their minds being inherently resistant to the degenerative effects of repeated time travel that were routinely suffered by other races; not that this prevented the Section from recruiting these races... they simply deteriorated into nothing more than mental vegetables by the conclusion of several years of loyal service. For his part, Voleron had been hand-selected by the Section chief to be trained as a Temporal Bounty Hunter, though truthfully, he could only recall one occasion on which the bounty called for the target to be brought in alive, so he considered the title of Temporal Assassin to be rather more accurately descriptive of of his homicidal occupation.
The Section's temporal division had been bloodily birthed into existence when it single-handedly orchestrated the downfall of the Krenim civilization, plundering their laboratories and reaping the technological rewards: temporal weaponry. Soon, the Section discovered, that it could use the technology to traverse and alter the timeline to their benefit, but rather than erasing entire civilizations from existence to achieve dominance as the Krenim did, the Section opted for a more insidious approach. By sending temporal assets through time to erase specific individuals (typically military leaders and political figures) from existence, the Section could steer civilizations toward joining the Empire willingly and with minimal resistance. Rather than eradicating an entire population, it's people would instead become loyal subjects of the Emperor, substantially expanding the Empire's influence throughout the galaxy.
**
The darkness of Voleron's vision receded, begrudgingly giving way to regained sight. "The Tal Shiar are ever vigilant!", the nearly inebriated Romulan tormentor continued, as though suggesting that his quite accidental discovery of Voleron in his shower had been the inevitable result of Tal Shair infallibility. "What is your mission here?!" he demanded. Unwilling to expend the energy necessary to respond to the pointless question, Voleron slouched slowly forward in the chair, his head suspended over his knees, his arms outstretched and bound behind the back of the seat. Voleron gazed upon the floor with blurred vision, his consciousness slowly again fading, in spite of his efforts to combat his exhaustion. The room fell momentarily silent, leaving only the rhythmic echo of Voleron's dripping blood on the deck plating.
The brief moment of tranquillity was broken by the sparking of a stun baton that the commander had produced. Voleron's body ached in anticipation of the rapidly incoming assault that he could peripherally see was destined for his exposed midsection. The baton impacted Voleron's rib cage, sending electrical pulses through his convulsing body, causing him to screech in pain and overturn in the restraint chair.
With his own blood filled sputum dripping onto the deck from his mouth, and tears of agony welling in his eyes, Voleron began to softly laugh between frothy coughs, as he realized that his right hand had broken free of its restraint during the last barrage of violence. Voleron had watched the Romulan drink the infected ale containing the temporal nanoprobes that unbeknownst to him, would by now have spread throughout his entire body. All Voleron need now do was to activate the controller concealed in his arm to begin the temporal erasure of his persecutor from this very existence. The Romulan looked inquisitively at Voleron, not fully comprehending the nature of his subdued laughter.
Voleron gave pause, debating momentarily whether to commit murder for the 572nd consecutive time in as many weeks, for the mere political benefit of the damndable Empire. Perhaps he should allow himself to be killed now, at the hands of the commander, rather than continue with his wretched, homicidal existence. Voleron had become a puppet of Section 31... his life and every movement dictated by others for the greater glory of the Empire, and he was sick of it. If he stayed in this time, perhaps the Romulan wouldn't kill him. Maybe he'd instead keep Voleron as a prisoner. Maybe there was a way that a relationship could evolve between them, however twisted in its origins. As Voleron took a moment to contemplate his choices, the reinforced boot of the Tal Shiar commander made it's way mercilessly toward Voleron's face, causing instinct to force the decision that Voleron hadn't been able to resolve in just several short seconds of agony. Voleron's right hand slammed down on the subdural actuator concealed in his left forearm, activating the nanoprobe controller and just barely preventing the incoming assault by the commander's boot. A blinding blue light began to emerge from the Romulan's body as the temporal nanoprobes executed their lethal purpose, causing him to shriek in apparent pain as his very existence in time was disassembled piece by piece. Building from within the Romulan, a massive wave like ripple erupted, producing a temporal tide that shot out in all directions, changing the timeline to reflect his non-existence. Voleron's skin tingled as the temporal shockwave passed through him, creating an inexplicable sense of ecstasy as it entered and left his body.
The frigid deck plating on which Voleron's semi-exposed body had been sprawled out, turned from Romulan green to a bluish tinge familiar to the interior of Terran Empire vessels. The Empire's logo and banners now adorned the walls of the ship, signalling once again, that Voleron's task was complete. Voleron lay quivering on the floor as the last euphoric effects of the temporal shockwave, the temporal effects from which he was genetically shielded, left his body.
Voleron dug into his waistband and produced a temporal transponder, which he activated to return to his own time. Such is the lonely and burdensome life of an assassin, he mulled, as a transporter beam whisked his injured body from this time and on to a new mission.
