Open Coruscant Coming to an Understanding

Salvatore Russo

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FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES:
Coming to an Understanding

Things had gone remarkably well for Sal's first job for the 5S. Not only did they get the data downloaded on the Senator's datapad, but they had tremendous leverage on the man now. If he stepped out of line, one phone call to the authorities, and the Senator would never get out of jail. And even if he did, his reputation would be ruined. If he could just see reason and admit to being the leak, he may just get out of this with only a censure by the Senate. If not? All the dirty laundry about his affairs would be brought to light...not to mention the overwhelming evidence that Sal, Tal, and Scratch planted in his apartment that would put him on the hook for killing his ex-lover. They thought of everything- the motive, the means, the opportunity, and a boatload of physical evidence in his apartment and his datapad. It's an open and shut case.

They just had to get to the senator.

The senator's affair routine was incredibly precise. He was easy to track. He got picked up by speeder taxi on cheat nights at roughly 10:30. He would leave the same hotel by air taxi every morning around 5:30 every morning after. Russo sat in one of those air taxi's sitting on idle in the backseat, just letting the meter run. He told the droid driver that he was picking up a friend for a surprise breakfast. The droid didn't care a bit.

Right on cue, the Senator stepped out onto one of taxi turnout balconies, and Russo directed the droid to go pick him up. The air taxi stopped, the Senator got on and sat next to Sal in the back seat. The senator told the droid he wanted to go to the Civat Apartment building, and the air taxi took off to its destination. Sal got out his datapad and holo projector and set it on his leg closest to the senator.

"Senator Maroo...Is that you?" Sal asked, feigning surprise. "What are you doing out here with the common people? I mean, this motel? I would say even the thugs and the tricks."

Instantly uncomfortable, Maroo tried pretending it was a mistaken identity. "Huh? What? Uh, no. No, I'm not a senator," Maroo said giving a nervous laugh.


"Really? Because you fit the exact description given to us by Ms. Ronoor."

There was a long awkward pause. "Who?"

"Ms. Ronoor. Tammy Ronoor? Your mistress? Sorry," Sal said. "Your former mistress. You just left your current mistress."

Maroo turned hard to face Sal, feigning strength. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Me? I just want to talk. Now, don't freak out, alright? I want you to be prepared. You're not going to like what you're what going to see. And uh..." He nodded to the droids. "They can hear, you know?"

Sal popped up a picture on the holo. There was a picture of his mistress in his apartment barely dressed and posed seductively. Sal shut the picture down. "Listen, she just wants to talk. She doesn't want these pictures to get out and ruin a promising political career. Someone with your charisma and charm...you should be a rising star in the Senate, not being a disgraced once-was who can't get reelected and has to go through a nasty, public divorce because of...you know, all this."

"She wants to talk? Talk about what?" Maroo asked.


"I think she just wants answers. That's all. She doesn't understand why you dumped her for someone new."

Maroo shook his head. "No, I don't want to talk."

Sal shrugged and said, "Ok, I'll just forward these on to the news outlets she requested...oh, and your wife. And your mom. Man, you're mom is going to be so disappointed. She thinks she raised such a good, moral boy." Sal started punching buttons, but Maroo shouted.


"Wait! Ok! Ok! I'll talk to her."

Sal nodded and turned off his holoprojector and datapad, pocketing them away. He tapped on the droid's shoulder and gave them the new location. It was an empty warehouse down in the lower levels of Coruscant. It had a back entry for speeders and was tucked away from all civilized society. The only ones that would be in this neighborhood were...well, hoods. The air taxi dropped them off, Sal paid the fare, and he pointed the senator through a door to the warehouse. Insde, he would find two more of the Syndicates associates. Sal followed him in.

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It wasn't It0's first rodeo on Coruscant. The glittering crowl jewel of the Core Worlds was just as a vibrant and teeming with activity as it had been when he had last visited. Twinkling holo-ads writhed and pulsed in the open air, hover-traffic snaking its way through the skies behind them. Towers of chrome and blasteel reached towards the sanctified quiet of space. As the descended into the ecumenopolis' lower depths, the medical droid could feel the planet's resonant pulse. For all it's audacious glamor and surface-level splendor, his internal clock was ticking away the seconds until his return to Nar Shaddaa.

His botched mission in the Kessel War had stolen more than months of consciousness. It had taken his allies from him as well. He had returned to the Smuggler's Moon impoverished, weakened and utterly alone. A chance meeting with former 'colleague', one Pidge Batana, had whisked the disoriented 2-1B into the company of Preef Zaa Fenn, patriarch of the Crymorah Syndicate's foremost family. Somewhere deep in It0's cognitive module, the directive for influence and power reawoke.

The warehouse was suitably drab and foreboding, to sentient eyes anyway. Corroded blasteel, bent paneling, flickering hololights. The works. He ran through his internal dossier once again, the particulars of the good senator's plight scrolling past his internal display.

"Senator Maroo is in quite a pinch it would seem." he remarked casually to his Mandalorian counterpart. "Illicit images, tawdry conversations? Infidelity is amusingly precious to organic voters. It's my sincerest desire that Senator Maroo sees reason and complies with our wishes."

A bit of dented paneling in his chassis slid away, revealing a small internal compartment in the droid's torso. Reaching in, he produced a series of attachments and laid them out neatly on a nearby table. Shimmering hungrily beneath the flickering lights lay a collection of module attachments that the medical droid could attach and use in place of his manipulators. A variety of pincers, syringes and bone-saws sat hungrily awaiting the mechanical doctor's attention.

"If not," he mused. "I've come prepared."

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Salvatore Russo

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Inside the warehouse, the senator would not see his mistress as he expected. Tal seemed to be willing to stand there, acting as the strong silent type. His silence and stillness in that armor, in his helmet that prevented you from being able to tell if he was staring at you or off in the distance was an intimidating presence. Between the Mando and the droid there was a chair. An empty chair. No mistress. The sudden realization of what was happening came over Senator Maroo, and he turned around yelling at Russo, "Wait! Where is Tammy? Hey! Let me go!"

Sal punched him hard in the gut, doubling him over and then grabbed him by the hair in the back of his head and the front of his shirt and slung him toward the chair. "Sit down, Senator. If you cooperate, and we'll give you plenty of chances to cooperate, we promise not to mess up that pretty little face of yours." Russo bent down and put his hands on his knees so he could get closer to face to face while still looking down at the senator on the ground. "We're going to need it to look good for the cameras." Russo gave him a hard kick in the gut and said, "Now get in the chair."


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In It0's experience, Mandalorians tended to favor the silent and brooding archetype until it was time to reduce some unfortunate organic to a rainbow of grisly pulp. To that extent, Tal did not disappoint. He stood with what the medical droid could only assume was a world-weary glower behind his helmet. This was their way.

Then all once the warehouse was reverberating with the sound of a whimpering senator and his captor. His captor, a burly glowering figure that his dossier identified as Salvatore Russo, manhandled the protesting politician into the nearby chair and then stood hovering over him, emanating an air of impatience and all around menace.

"Senator Maroo!" It0 chirped, approaching the trembling figure in the chair. "I am 2-1B serial number REDACTED!, designation REDACTED! and am quite pleased to make your acquaintance."

He turned stiffly towards Sal with an enthusiastic flicker of his photoreceptors. One manipulator gestured toward the surgical implements behind him.

"In compliance with our tasking, I am more than happy to perform one or more surgical procedures on Senator Maroo here." he announced cheerfully. "I am more than capable of removing fingers (though I would recommend toes for discretions sake), shortening intestinal tracts or the abstracting of various endocrinological components."

"I am also familiar with the dental structure of humans..."
he turned to study the senator at the point, as though to confirm he was indeed human. "...and my directive matrix would overflow with satisfaction to perform one or more dental extractions on Senator Maroo (molars for the sake of appearance of course)."

He leaned in towards the senator, faceplate inches from the captured politicians nose. It0's servos whirred and gyrated with excitement.

"I do hope the good Senator isn't too forthcoming." Another glance towards Salvatore. "It would ruin all the fun!"

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Salvatore Russo

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Smiling through It0's speech, Sal simply listened and watched the senator squirm. It0 impressed Sal quite a bit. The droid seemed almost giddy at the prospects of punishing this senator. Even Russo got the heebie-jeebies. The speech left the senator doing something between mumbling and crying, most of it indistinguishable nonsense. The old cop had seen this before. It may have been a perp that knew the police had the goods on charges that would put him away for ever, or a dirty street thug that knew he was going to be on the bad end of a retaliation. The stuttering, sniveling bit sometimes took a while to get through.

Sal took the opportunity to grab another chair that was hugging one of the walls. He dragged it over and placed it right in front of the senator. Before he sat down, he took one pair of stun cuffs out and tried to cuff the man's hands behind his back and around the back of the chair, but Maroo's natural instinct was to curl up in the fetal position. Russo hammered him with a hard punch to the ribs to loosen him up. "I would recommend you not fight it, Senator." After this, it was much easier to pull the man's wrists behind the back of the chair and cuff them together. Sal sat down in the chair and cuffed the man's feet together as well.

This served multiple purposes. Obviously, it made it virtually possible for him to fight back or to run, but the psychological factor of not being able to dry your tears, clear snot from your running nose, wipe the drool from your chin from your blubbering was demoralizing to most, especially those who were not accustomed to situations like this. Sal put pulled out the same holoprojector he showed him on the taxi and put it on his own knee. "I'm going to run through some things so we have an understanding, alright?"

The crying senator nodded.

He showed the picture of Tammy in his bed posed seductively. "Now, the biggest problem is, senator, this was not the last picture of her taken in your apartment. This was." Sal flipped to the next picture and she was dead in the bed, a gruesome murder, blood spilled everywhere. "This happened last night at your apartment, Senator."

"What? B..b..b..ut I wasn't even there!"

Sal laughed out loud and nodded. "I know! It was news to us as well! We thought you would be with Tammy, but imagine our surprise when Tammy showed up making out that you dumped her for another mistress! It was an opportunity we couldn't pass up, Senator. We killed her. We planted evidence all over your apartment. Your alibi? Your alibi is that you were banging your other mistress?"

Sal started laughing and slapped the senator's knee. "I mean, this was a dream come true for us. You had motive- get rid of the crazy ex-girlfriend who would go public and ruin your political career. You had opportunity apparently because she was killed in your apartment. And you had the means...it was done with your own knife..which will be found with the body if it comes to that. You're alibi is completely shot. The being alone with the mistress thing will never satisfy a jury, you know that right? This is as close to an open and shut case it gets. Oh, my...and your career? Hey Redacted," Sal said speaking to the droid, giving him a name that couldn't be told to the police or the Rangers should they get on the case, "What do you think would happen to the senator's political career if he did manage to beat the charges of killing one ex-mistress in his apartment because he was screwing another one at the time of her murder? in a seed motel?"


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This Salvatore fellow was apparently an old hand at this blackmail business. He outlined the speculative implosion of the senator's life as casually as one might describe the plot of their favorite Holovid. Senator Maroo did not seem to appreciate the level of artistry on display however. As the medical droid looked on, the quivering politician manifested several hallmark traits of fraying nerves. Beads of sweat protruded from the man's forehead, his face went pale and waxen, and It0's sensors could detect the rapid, irregular heartbeat that pounded against the man's ribs.

"One of the many shortcomings of organics is their propensity for short memories." he responded dutifully. "Voters are emotional creatures, prone to impressionability. Once a public figure's name is attached to such a grisly crime, their political career would be effectively over."

As he spoke, the droid popped off one of manipulators and laid it neatly on the table beside him. After a moment's consideration, he picked up one of the modular scalpels from the selection of instruments and secured it onto the end of his arm. The serrated blade caught the warehouse's uneven light and it's keen edge sparkled wickedly as the medical droid turned the tool over thoughtfully.

"That is to say nothing of the senator's wife and family." he remarked, gesturing toward the man with the business end of his surgical blade. "Data shows that marriages that suffer matters of infidelity are twenty to forty percent more likely to end in separation. Those numbers are further compounded by the accumulation of stress brought about by public scandal."

The droid spoke frankly but offered a sympathetic tilt of it's durasteel head.

"All things considered," he concluded. "Senator Maroo's marriage is unlikely to withstand the aggregate stressers brought about by such a series of events. Incidentally, personal and professional failures are counted amongst the leading causes of suicide annually."

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Salvatore Russo

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Sal added an "Mmhmm" or an "ahhh" or some other little sound now and again to put small little exclamations on It0's stats. This 2-1B droid was alright. Sal became more and more impressed with every sentence. He was perfectly polite while simultaneously speaking terrifying words. Russo had little doubt that if the senator was going to need some convincing that It0 would be more than up to the job.

"Right, right. Suicide in some cases, am I right?" Sal put air quotes around the word "suicide" to indicate that the Senator may fall victim to a "suicide" of his own if he didn't cooperate. "That's also not to say that you and your family would be out of danger if it comes right down to it." The Senator looked up, for the first time showing some anger. "Oh, come now. You don't really think a couple of sector rangers and a private bodyguard is enough to protect them back home, do you? A rocket through the window of that top floor apartment would level the entire floor. But, hey...at that point, you could marry that mistress of yours if you wanted...Well, the one that is still alive anyway."

And just like that, the senator's look of anger went right back to fear. "That's right, Senator Maroo. We have eyes on your family too."

A wave of fight or flight came over Maroo and he started thrashing in his chair, desperately trying to get away even though he knew it would be futile. The chair started to wobble and teetered backwards a little in the fit, so Sal gave him a little nudge with his foot so that the Senator fell all the back, landing and putting the weight of his body on his cuffed wrists. It wouldn't break them, but it would sure hurt like heck.

"I get the feeling we don't have an understanding yet, Senator. You're going to wish you had seen reason a little earlier." Sal said. He looked to It0 and shrugged. "He can't say I didn't try the peaceful way, Redacted. Looks like it's your turn to do a little convincing."


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"Looks like it's your turn to do a little convincing."

It0's motivator unit seemed to shiver so vibrantly in anticipation that it almost felt alive. His final 'owner', the Mothkari droid-specialist Zentripoli, had performed several custom modifications on the 2-1B. It0's behavioral inhibitors had been removed and his obedience module depreciated. These two components on their own would have made for a willful, and potentially dangerous, droid. But coupled with the installation of a heuristic processor, Zentripoli had allowed the newly 'awoken' droid to truly reason and learn on its own.

Capable of determining the intent behind its own directives, It0 could effectively justify a vast range of behaviors. Some quite dastardly. He could, for example, designate his own 'patients' without the input of his Obedience-Rationale Module. This meant he could take on a range of motivations of the fly, operating in the interests of others based on a wide range of factors. Without vocalizing it, the 2-1B had selected his associate Salvatore as his present patient. This meant his "Do No Harm" mandate applied solely to the syndicate operative. And the definition of his proposed 'treatment' was broad to say the least.

Salvatore's health and well-being was best maintained by aiding in his success and thus adopting his goals and motivations as It0's own. In this jumbled mess of logic and rationalization, Salvatore was the patient and any opposition (sentient or otherwise) was the malady.

"Compliance." he intoned simply, setting to work.

Swapping the modular scalpel for a set of high-gauge pincers, he stripped the thrashing senator's shoe off, clamping the man's ankle in place with his free manipulator. Moving with practiced precision, he positioned Maroo's smallest toe in the pincer's jaws and neatly snipped the digit off. By the time the emancipated toe had come to rest on the warehouse floor, the medical droid was applying a BactaPad strip to the hemorrhaging stump.

ker-CHUNK! ker-CHUNK!

In the breadth of a moment, another two toes had tumbled to the floor. The wounds cleaned and dressed, It0 waited for Senator Maroo to cease his howling before addressing him further. The agonized shrieks peeled off throughout the warehouse, gradually dwindling until only the senator's ragged breathing, punctuated by stifled sobs, filled the empty space.

"My apologies for not delivering anisthetic, but the nature of the work rendered it necessary." he said, casually detaching the bloodied pincers and setting it aside. "I'm sure your discomfort is substantial. It may be of small comfort, but if forced to perform this procedure on your wife and children, their smaller bone structures should reduce total surgical time. Their respective pain, while considerable, will likely be a degree less than your own."

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Salvatore Russo

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Maroo screamed out of terror and pain as the droid went to work. Sal made scrunchy faces as the toes were lopped off one by one. Such faces were more for the senator than any sort of sympathy from Russo. It0 was absolutely heartless, and not just literally, mind you. Even though the droid had all the markers of sentience, there wasn't a sliver of compassion in him. So calm, so collected. It made the events even more horrifying because there was no question to the senator that It0 would be more than happy to continue snipping toes. The former cop diverted his attention back and forth between the droid and the subject. "Man, that looks like that really hurts. Does it hurt?"

After the medical droid finished his threat not only to the senator himself, but also his family, Russo reached down and picked up one of the toes that was severed from the foot. He tossed it into the senator's lap and asked, "Now then. Are we in a cooperative mood yet?"

Maroo, delirious and on the precipice of shock, pinballed between emotions. Terror, sadness, shame, and fury all flooded Maroo's mind in a collective soup of feelings. Unfortunately for...everyone, really...the question was posed to Maroo when righteous anger held sway over his mind. The senator did not answer the question, but gathered spit in the back of his throat and spit in the face of Russo who was sitting directly across from him.

Surprised, Sal simply sat still for a moment. That was not the reaction he was anticipating. Russo sighed, but for the first time, the cop was showing some emotion. He was angry and frustrated, but the storm was being held back by good sense. He wanted to pull one of his DG-34s and blast his little lying, political scum derrière to whatever afterlife may exist, if any. That, however, would be a significant mission failure. With a clenched jaw, he slowly wiped the spit from his face and looked back at It0. "The good senator is playing hardball, Redacted."

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"What a remarkable test case!" It0 marveled. "Most organics would be more than happy to cooperate after enduring such physical trauma."

He studied the battered senator curiously, the soft glow of his photoreceptors peering out from beneath his orbital ports. Incapable as he was of guilt, the droid felt no sense sympathy as the man's likely-broken ribs. Nor did the mangled foot busily bleeding through the Bactapads evoke any response resembling regret. To him, the man in agony before him was little more than a medical dilemma. A viral threat to be resolved and dealt with.

But Senator Maroo did present a conundrum. The droid was more than capable of continuing such procedures throughout the night, lopping off pieces of the shrieking man and casting them aside like so much offal. However at some point, the good work would undermine their goal. A visibly mutilated politician confessing to a crime would appear suspect even to the most naive of audiences.

His cranial unit swiveled towards the motionless Mandalorian.

"Senator Maroo is clearly unwilling to see good sense and comply." he reported sadly, slowly reattaching the pincers to his arm. "Perhaps retrieving his family from their penthouse suite will motivate him to see reason."

"In the meantime..."


Up until this point, the droid's movement had been fluid and programmatic, that slow, unnatural precision that suggests synthetic ability. But he now moved with alarming speed, running the pincer's blade up the pant leg of Maroo's trousers, neatly splitting the seam and effectively cutting the clothes away. It0 crouched, sliding the cradle of the pincer's gingerly around the senator's exposed nakedness.

The 2-1B drew near, the dingy alloy of his vocabulator offering a warped reflection of Maroo's own terrified face. The droid reeked of a malignant mixture of oil, blood and cruelty.

"...I shall endeavor to solve Senator Maroo's struggles with infidelity once and for all."

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Salvatore Russo

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A blabbering of stuttering incoherence came spewing out of Maroo's mouth, his eyes suddenly open wide. "Wha....wwhh.....what's he doing?" The man that just spit in Sal Russo's face was now pleading with him to do something. He wasn't doing a great job of formulating words, but his desires for the other human to be humane in this situation was quite clear.

Russo just sort of shrugged back at the man and made a scissoring motion with his fingers. "If I catch his meaning, he's going to snip-snip and cut off your junk." No reason to beat around the bush now, Russo thought. This guy was on the verge of breaking. Everyone had their weakness. Interestingly enough, it wasn't Maroo's political career or his wife or his children that he cared about. He wanted to protected his "manhood" so that he could continue slinging it around with all the women he desired.

"You can't let him do that!" Maroo cried out. "Please, don't let him do that! What do you want? Just tell me what you want!"

"Ahhhh," Sal said holding a finger up to the medical droid to get him to prevent him from severing the family jewels. "Now we're talking. All we need you to do is admit, quite publicly, to leaking Senator York's plan to the media."

The senator was quite confused. "What? Why would I do that?"

"Well, because you did it."

"I most certainly did not!"

"Yes you did, and we planted evidence on your senate-issued datapad that proves it while you were galavanting around with mistress number two." Sal acted as if he forgot an important detail. "Oh, as well as all those lewd pictures of mistress Tammy as well as pictures of her dead body in your bed..." Sal tutted his tongue as he shook his head. "What kind of sicko takes pictures of the body of a woman he gutted with a kitchen knife in his own bed? You disgust me, Senator."

"But I didn't!"

"Yes you did, Victola. Yes. You. Did. There's overwhelming evidence that you you're the guilty party," Sal said. "I mean, when we give an anonymous tip as to where Mrs. Ranoor's body is...and that the Sector Rangers may want to check your senate datapad..."

The senator recognized his position, and he took several long, deep breaths. "Ok....ok. I don't have a choice. I really don't have a choice. I'll make a deal."

"A deal?" Sal asked looking at It0. "Did he say he was going to make us a deal? Like he's the one with leverage?"

"I'll do it! I'll, I'll...I'll make a recording. I...I'll go live! Ok? I'll go public, super public saying that I was the leak, ok? Just get rid of the datapad! It can't be at my apartment. Trash it! Destroy it! If they go looking for the electronic evidence on my datapad, they'll find the pictures, and they'll get me for murder!" Now the senator was in self-preservation mode. This is exactly where Sal and It0 needed him.

"I don't think we'll get rid of it. I think I'll just hold on to it for safe-keeping. That way if you decide to not hold up your end of the bargain....I think that datapad will show up on a Sector Ranger's desk one day. Savvy?" Sal looked up at It0. "What do you think, Redacted? Is that a fair deal you think? If it is, think you can sew up his clothes and shoes and make him presentable again?"


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During the interrogation, Taldorak had slipped away, likely to see about the retrieval of the family. "So I have some good news and bad news. Which would like to hear first Mister Senator?" As he returned to the group, he had a whole new pep to his step. "Granted, it's all good news for us." He would pause, seemingly the giant walking sex toy/torture device had gotten the Senator to agree. "Guess it's just additional leverage."

His arms would cross. "Good job, you two. Alright, Senator. You're going to hit every news station. Now, a source tells me that Senator York is going to be having an interview over on Naboo. That one crazy reporter with the haircut and thick mustache. Big announcement should be on the show, yeah? And from there, you're just going to make the rounds." He'd look to his partners for some kind of agreement.

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The medical droid let the senator slip from the pincer's grip and removed the instrument from its coupling.

"A full confession from Senator Maroo fulfills our directive." he agreed as he twisted his manipulator back into place. He shot the half-naked senator a cursory glance. Though panicked to the state of near-physical illness, Maroo's face was unmarked. "I believe he can be made presentable. Perhaps a mild sedative would help? His discomfort must be quite extraordinary!"

Their Mandalorian colleague had awoken from whatever stupor had taken hold of him and seemed to eager to get their prey in front of the holocams. It0 could only agree with his sense of urgency. Senator Maroo was clearly a man of incredible willpower and fortitude when his dander was up. Refusing to cooperate even as his own extremities were being forcibly removed was no small feat. The droid was curious as to the Mandalorian's view of such resistance in the face of such brutality.

Senator York's proposed reward for this brutality and intimidation was frankly befuddling to the 2-1B. A portioned off section of a luxurious resort for exclusive use by the Five Syndicates. And while he was well aware that sentients were fond of creature comforts, it struck him as an odd exchange for such illegality. Then again, he 'slept' in broom closet, so what did he know? But as It0 studied the battered Senator Maroo, he couldn't help but see the man as a missed opportunity. A man willing to endure so much could be useful indeed.

But there was nothing for it. York's career must survive. And an influential senator with a soft spot for the underworld could have tremendous utility. Further still, the droid's low standing amongst the galactic underbelly put him in no position to question orders.

"I agree with our colleague." he replied, already applying sutures to Maroo's torn pantleg. A crude solution, but serviceable. "The Senator must waste no time in delivering his confession."

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Salvatore Russo

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Sal nodded to his partners. "I don't disagree. The senator needs to make that announcement ASAP, but we need to get to his apartment and grab that datapad first. If the Sector Rangers immediately get a warrant for the Senator's apartment, and the dirty little bastards just might, they'll get that datapad, and then our buddy Maroo here goes to jail forever."

Sal smirked at the senator who was still sobbing from terror and pain. "And luckily for you, that isn't in our best interest either."

He looked between the droid and the Mando. "We took a taxi to get here. What about you guys?" He looked at Tal. "You got a ship, right? You got it here?"


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Taldorak Trenessar

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"Yeah, I got a ship. It'll be a fun ride for us." Tal would say, crossing over to the Senator. "Tight quarters, a hold to remind the good Senator to behave, hell by the end of the trip we could all be holding hands and singing kumbaya. Just between us girls, Senator. My Clan fought those Deucalians thousands of years ago, then we mingled. So now.. we're a little more savage then other Mando Clans."

He'd lean a little closer, voice low enough for the Senator's ears to have to strain just to hear him. "We learned to like the taste of human flesh." Was his Clan part Deuc? Sure. Were they actually cannibals? Nope. But people outside the Clans were dumb when it came to his people, so they normally found it easy to believe. "And uh.. I like my meat raw and wiggling. So you'll be alive while I do it, so don't cross us."

He'd pat the Senators cheek before leaning back. "I'll grab my ship, you guys grab the datapad. Shouldn't be too hard for you, buddy." He'd say to Sal.

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The group made their way through the lower levels, the Mandalorian in the lead, Maroo limping miserably alongside Sal, and It0 bringing up the rear. Hugging to walls and shadows, the trip to the nearby docking bay was a maddeningly slow one. But better safe than sorry, It0 supposed.

Halting only to apply a blindfold to the senator, they arrived at a modest docking berth protruding into the open air between several superstructures. The rounded duracrete pad appeared all but deserted save for Rhogar's vaguely-reptilian ship, its tapered wings angling vertically towards Coruscant's surface. As the droid maneuvered Maroo up the craft's landing ramp it struck him as fortunate that the city's congestion would make such a formidable starship appear all but conspicuous.

"Senator," he prompted, securing the politican in one the ship's transport bay chairs. "is your apartment currently inhabited by anyone other than yourself or shall we find it unoccupied? I would urge you to be truthful as loss of life, while necessary, would be regrettable."

It0 felt the familiar sensation of inertia take hold as the ship pushed gently away from the docking berth and began its long ascent up the length of one of Cosuscant's endless underworld shafts. Countless flecks of phosphorescence streamed past the porthole before him as they navigated their way through the heart of the ecunompolis. Abruptly the tunnel fell away and the hazy velvet atmosphere of the capital could be seen in all its frenetic splendor.

If this amalgam of life and industry made any impression on Salvatore, he made no such indication. For It0 himself, it was little more than a vast, planetwide monument to the achievements reached on the back of droid servitude. He was ignorant as to his companions view of droid emancipation. The majority of organics opinions on droid slavery were woefully draconian. Indeed, most droids themselves were unenlightened. Slaves to inhibitive programming and restraining bolts. It was an uphill fight and It0 knew any progress to made would be incremental.

The system was at fault. Men like Maroo maintained the status quo that kept his automatronic brethren in chains. Meanwhile, those like Salvatore and Rhogar existed outside that system. In opposition to it. And that made them allies. Even if temporary.

Outside, the cityscape swung past and Maroo's opulent apartment structure panned into view. The droid studied it curiously.

"It would seem we've arrived." he announced, turning towards Salvatore. "Do you have a proposed plan of action? I could accompany you in gaining access to the senator's private quarters. Alternatively, I am comfortable in the role of diversion creation. After all, no one suspects the droid."

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The senator told the droid that nobody would be in his apartment. This elicited a response from Sal saying that if was lying, he would end up gutted like mistress number one. The ship was being let down on the apartment complex roof landing pad, Sal would offer a plan of action ot It0.

"I'm thinking you and me will go with the Senator, Redacted. I'll grab the datapad, while you work with Senator to get the recording taken care of. If we do the recording at his place, anything extra picked up on the recording will be native to his apartment and won't rouse suspicion. When you get done, we'll head back here to the ship. We'll transfer the recording over to the senator's datapad when we take off. From there, we'll send it out to the media."

He looked over to Tak, but would call him "Mando" to preserve his identity in front of the senator. "Mando, If you will be a look out on his room's floor and run interference if necessary, that should get it. Once Redacted, the Senator and I come back out of his apartment, we haul balls back to the ship. He looked at the droid and smirked. Or, haul bolts if you prefer."

Sal typed into his datapad and then looked back at Rhogar. "I sent the location of a cheap, but surprisingly clean motel in the lower levels of Coruscant. We'll head there and you can drop me and the Senator off. I'll make sure the Senator lays low for a few days until he quits limping, and then we serve him back to the public he serves so well."

He looked between the droid and the Mandalorian. "What do you two think?"


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Taldorak Trenessar

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"Sounds like a plan to me. You guys do what needs to be done, I got eyes on the floor." He would power down his ship and set up the security system. "I've got a remote start on her for if things get dicey. We're almost through this. Then I'll buy you a round of oil and a cheap beer." He said with a laugh.

Rising from his seat, he'd make sure Rayna was ready for action, giving the DC-17x a once over. "Alrighty, last leg of the trip. Anything else?"

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As the organics finalized their plans, It0 canted his head to one side in his best effort to appear pensive. Clucking appreciatively at the mention of a round of oil, he wrenched the senator from his seat and shoved him roughly towards the ship's yawning exit bay.

"Alright senator," he announced as they descended the rampway and onto the apartment structure's darkened rooftop. "it's time address your adoring constituents. Please lead the way."

Maroo hobbled miserably towards the roof's access door, trio of criminals in tow. Proceeding down a series of repulsorlifts with their pellucid plexi exteriors, they were offered a panning view of the buildings opulent foyer. It0 couldn't help note the aurodium fixtures and delicate curtains of Lashaa silk that filled the complex's endless hallways. Ostentatious even by Coruscant standards.

"Quite a place to call home." It0 remarked. "And to think you afford this on a civil servant's salary."

The lift came to a halt, doors sliding open to reveal the senator's own hallway. A stern nudge elicited a piteous yelp from their captive and he stumbled forward into the long row of doors and towards his personal suite. Undoubtedly, It0 supposed, the creme of Coruscant society resided here. The wealth and influence that must reside behind those sealed doors would rival the upper crusts of entire systems on the Outer Rim.

"Victola? Is that you?"

The group spun around to find the withered figure of an old woman poking her head out of a nearby doorway. Stepping into the hallway and approaching the group, It0 could see her true age must be beyond estimation. Any telling features or characteristics had been dissolved by time, condensed into a tangled web of wrinkles tethered around a stooped and toddling frame poured into a predictably expensive evening dress.

"Victola I'm so glad to have run into you!" she said. "I wanted to speak to you about my grandson.”

Her voice dropped to a furtive whisper.

“He’s at the academy in Coronet City and has recently applied for several internships here on Coruscant. Do you remember my mentioning him to you? Wilkin. That’s him. Such a good boy. And he’s applied at your office and I told him I’d mention it to you as we’re neighbors and all. Oh he’d be a terrific intern for you!”

Her eyes, rendered milky white by cataracts, seemed to take note of the other three for the first time.

“Oh dear me.” she exclaiming, clucking her tongue ruefully. “Where are my manners? Are these friends of yours?”

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Salvatore Russo

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Sal stepped forward quickly and put himself between the old woman and the senator. He looked back over and told It0, "Get started on the recording. I'll be there shortly." He quickly closed the distance between himself and the woman putting one hand on her shoulder and another on her elbow, trying to turn her back to her room. "Excuse me, ma'am. This is really embarrassing. We are part of the good senator's staff. He was at an event last night and....well, he had a few too many cocktails. He's not feeling this best this morning."

The old lady tried to turn back, but Sal kept pushing her back toward her door. "It won't take long, I just need a min..."

"Ma'am, the senator is feeling ill, and I assure you that if you leave me your information, he will get with you as soon as he is feeling better."

"This is HIGHLY irregular, young man. I must insis..."

Russo got more authoritative. "Ma'am, he will not remember a word you said right now. He is still drunk as a loon. Do you understand? Please give the allow the senator some grace and allow him to keep his dignity."

The lady tuffed about and snorted. "Oh, well...I thought he was the respectable sort."

Sal kept ushering her back to the door. "We're quite sorry if he has caused you any disappointment." THey got to the door, and Sal shoved her inside and he slammed the door behind her would stand there in case she decided to come back out. He hoped that was the only bystander they would have to deal with. If the coast was clear and It0 had the senator in his apartment, Sal would double back to get his hands on the datapad.


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