Ask Plot Coruscant Fumigated Quarters

[Cestus]

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. THUNK! The sound echoed along the metal lined tunnels that connected the various factory plants that littered the choking, stinking district of Coruscant's surface called The Works. The factories were all but entirely droid and AI operated as the air around them had become so toxic that few organics could tolerate even passing through the area never mind working there.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The sound continued echoing, rhythmic, measured and then it stopped. There was a sudden silence restored to this stretch of the network, an area that had been out of use for some time. The silence was broken by the shriek of metal being dragged as something or someone forced a blast door. The heavy gauge durasteel, heat and pressure resistant, proved no real obstacle for someone with the proper leverage. Cestus stepped through the threshold, the replacement arm wasn't colour matched to the rest of his chassis, but it at least reminded him of the damage done by the battle droid on Hollastin. Of course, the welded holes in his torso were reminder enough.

He powered down, dimming his photoreceptors and standing against a duct. It was a simple camouflage but one that often worked for droids. The Skaven were probably well equipped and he didn't feel like facing them solo. Besides, he was expecting company.



@Pidge Batana
@It0
@Vipe

 

[It0]

The walkway beneath his stabilizers was a winding composite of corroding piping that stretched off into the horizon. They ranged in size from roughly the circumference of It0’s own durasteel torso to wide enough for a Wookie to walk through without resorting to stooping. The desolate landscape around him was much the same. Snaking paths of steel and concrete, accented by the edifices of various factories which jut upwards like mountainous growths where they sat belching their noxious discharge into the rancid atmosphere above.

Before him, the tubes took an abrupt downward turn, and in that lightless void he knew the underbelly of The Works awaited him. Well, both of them.

“Cestus should be somewhere below.” he remarked, turning to address Pidge. “This marks the outer edge of the Skaven Razors territory.”

He traced the hazy horizon with his photoreceptors once more, scanning for any sign of activity there. There was only a deathly still, punctuated by the mechanized thrum of industry. Coruscant’s ambitions had torn a ragged, ugly scar across the planet’s surface and as It0 glanced back at the glittering city lights that sparkled in the distance he wondered how many of the beings were even aware of its existence.

He found himself rather ambivalent to the entire matter. One day, the scales will be tipped too far and the planet would shake them all off as one would a nasty cold. Their rotting organic remains would fertilize a new beginning. It was almost...romantic.

’...what a maudlin notion!’ he thought to himself reproachfully. As he set about checking his E-11D Blaster Rifle, he wondered to what degree his newly installed ‘Combat Bypass Circuitry’ played in such a morose line of reasoning. With his ‘Life Preservation Programming’ effectively degraded, he was now starkly aware of his own capacity for lethal violence. There was no impulse to needlessly cause organics harm, but such a concept had always represented an inconceivable notion to his reasoning. That boundary no longer existed in his consciousness and the resulting possibilities were quite frankly...intriguing.

It0 ejected and examined the rifle’s power pack before locking it back in place.

“I’m ready when you are Ms. Batana.”

@Pidge Batana
@Cestus
@Vipe

 

[Pidge Batana]

The air shone with a putrid, artificial yellow haze, lit by dimly buzzing lights on the walkway. They were covered in millennia of sticky, sooty grime. The Works were Coruscant’s skeleton. The shining city was built on the foundation of the tangle of pipes and gears and steam that rose from the dark depths. The area was lonely, desolate, rusted, even abandoned. But not silent. The clanking and hissing that was the very heartbeat of the planet resounded throughout the vast chambers. The fumes that curled up were noxious. Even with the basic filtration system of her mask, Pidge struggled to breathe. The very air was so thick with chemicals it stung her eyes and the sensitive skin of her lekku.

They stood on the inhospitable territory of the Skaven Razor gang. Why a gang would choose such a location to claim and how they survived prolonged exposure was beyond her. Perhaps it was desperation. Pidge loosened her blaster from it’s holster. Ideally, it would not be necessary, especially because she was not a wonderful shot. Unfortunately, these types of situations didn’t lend themselves to ideal outcomes. She hoped It0’s new programming would be effective enough.

“I suppose I’ll have to be ready. Let’s go.“ The Twi’lek took a deep breath and started jogging forward. They needed to meet Cestus, whoever that was.

 

[Cestus]

His photoreceptors dimmed left him almost blind but he could still hear. Could still sense the presence of another.


The echo of their approach made his sensors all but turn in their direction. At first he thought it half imagined, simply the strange and regularly irregular noises of the machines dutifully following the last instructions left by their most recent organic masters. These machines were not droid, they were soulless, lifeless husks. He almost envied machines like these, devoid of ambition or fear or desire. As he listened to the machines he started to detect new sounds, faint at first. Faint enough to be mistaken for the inner workings of his own shell. At least at first. The sounds quickly made their existence in the exterior obvious, growing slowly louder as they drew nearer. Then voices. One he recognized as the mechanical matron, I t 0. The other...not an obviously mechanical voice, though voices could be mimicked by many droid models. He waited until they were passing him, reactivated his photoreceptors and watched the medical droid shoulder a blaster, something new in the field of medicine apparently. He amused himself then studied the other. An organic of some kind, the model of which he was unfamiliar. But judging by the timbre of its voice it was a female. Though, he could be wrong. He was no expert of biology, unless being skilled in killing them made you an expert on organics?

They were apparently oblivious as he slowly leaned forward from his hiding place among the ducts.

"You're late." He boomed.

@It0

@Pidge Batana

 

[It0]

Startled, the medical droid whirled around towards the source of the voice, clumsily bringing the blaster rifle to bear. The gladiator droid’s photoreceptor array was vaguely arachnid, and despite their past cordiality, It0 couldn’t help feel slightly unnerved. Perhaps it was the setting. A subterranean labyrinth, tacky with accumulated condensation. Pressured air shot through the forest of pipes, eliciting groans and strains from the surrounding infrastructure.

“Oh, Cestus, it’s only you.” he allowed relief to emit from his vocabulator. “You’re lucky I didn’t blast a manipulator-sized hole in your chassis! Zentripoli outfitted me with Combat Bypass Circuitry, so I’m quite capable of astounding acts of violence and mayhem. It’s all quite thrilling. What are you doing back there in any case? A bit of scouting?”

He surveyed the squat droid’s position, concealed amongst the columns of steampipes.

“Or...just resting your compressor?”

The 2-1B quite enjoyed the rapport he had built with the formidable ZDT-555 unit. Cestus was taciturn and straightforward, but It0 found him quite pleasant once he let his guard down. Equally enjoyable, was the jovre de vivre evident in his durasteel features when tearing hostile organics limb from limb. It0 lowered the rifle and gestured towards the young Twi’lek beside him.

“This is Pidge Batana.” he announced, “A capable slicer and quite competent for an organic! Ms. Batana, this is Cestus of the Droid Gotra. We’ve worked together some back of Nar Shaddaa. I’ve never encountered these Skaven Razors before, but I’m quite certain they’ve never run across anyone like Cestus before either!”

“Now, to the business at hand.” his voice grew grim. “What precisely are we up against Cestus? Are you at all familiar with these sentients? Zentripoli wasn’t overly forthcoming with the details.”

@Pidge Batana
@Cestus

 

[Pidge Batana]

Pidge froze, a bit unsure how to deal with the situation she found herself in. The Twi’lek had jumped almost as high as Cloud City on Bespin when Cestus had spoken. He had camouflaged so well with their surroundings, his firey orange photoreceptors were the first part of him she connected to the voice. Although initially startled, It0 seemed quickly put at ease and began to joke with the rather intimidating droid opposite them. The medical droid seemed to take pride in his new upgrades. He had a bit too much enthusiasm about the ability to harm others than she felt entirely comfortable with, but she doubted he would attack for his fancy. Cestus on the other hand... well... She was glad he was on their side. His glowing eyes, or photoreceptors, but they had enough life behind them to be eyes, in her opinion, illuminated the air with dim orange beams.

“I am indeed Pidge, and I like to think of myself as a bit more than competent. I know very little about this gang. They don’t have much reach, even in the underworld. This has to be their main turf. Trouble is, we need it too. From what I’ve researched, Their base is in the Main West Sewer Section L. The gang is run by Yuthura Laan. I know little of their livelihood or anything else. Would you be so kind as to catch us up, Cestus?

The two droids and the organic continued down the walkway quietly and carefully, the only sounds were Cestus’s low voice and the hissing and gurgling of the world below.

 

[Cestus]

Cestus's footsteps acted like punctuation. Each burst of information or small-talk being sandwiched between the heavy echoing beats as his massive weight lurched on.

"The Skaven...(thunk)...are a swoop gang who have been gaining some ground...(thunk)...They're well equipped but that's the secret of their success...(thunk)...They have access to military hardware...(thunk)...They're also believed to be responsible for a number...(thunk)...Of murders in the Coruscant Security forces.(thunk)...we must be cautious...(thunk)..."

He watched the little organic closely. The time he'd spent watching natural history broadcasts had included information on some of the main races. Including the Twi'leks. He had noticed her visibly shrink from his appearance amongst the ducts earlier, he felt nothing at the revelation beyond a curiosity that bordered on anthropological. As the seemingly fragile creature walked in front of him he watched her continuously, the curiosity dominating as he studied the tentacles that hung from her skull. Lek-oo wasn't it?


"I trust you are armed, hopefully with more than that rifle? " He grumbled mirthlessly.

 

[It0]

“It’s a safe assertion we’re sufficiently armed.” It0 posited, his own rifle cradled in the crook of one moduled arm. “After all, we have you.”

The corridor twisted itself downward, at times a conglomerate of corrugated piping and at others little more than a section of slick, black catwalk that carried them across endless expanses of darkness. They walked in relative silence, listening to the chorus of industrial churning that sometimes gave way to the more corporeal sounds of rushing water.

“This looks...intentional.” the 2-1B remarked. Before the trio, the ground dropped away precipitously. As they crept forward, they saw they stood on the precipice of a great opening below which a great void yawned. Spiraling levels of catwalks and ladders lined the immense space, lit by all manner of pieced-together lighting that crackled and hummed in the subterranean atmosphere. It resembled nothing so much as the interior of a massive, mechanized beehive.

It0 shuffled to the edge and surveyed the massive interior for a prolonged moment before returning to the others.

“There are approximately seven organics present.” he set his vocabulator to ‘whisper’. “They’re all armed with heavy blaster rifles, however they appear to be heavily under the influence.”

His autoreceptors flickered excitedly.

“I’d say nearly comatose in fact!” He gave his blaster an emphatic shake. “So then, what’s the plan?”

@Cestus
@Pidge Batana

DICE THREAD

 

[Pidge Batana]

Pidge patted the blaster pistol at her side. She decided not to mention her strengths did not include combat of any kind in response to Cestus’s warning. Her knowledge of blasters was just enough that she could load and shoot with questionable accuracy. Normally she passed it off by pretending to have intentionally shot in the wrong direction, but she doubted the burning eyes of the hulking droid would fail to see through such bluffs.

The Twi’lek felt oddly alien as she scaled the catwalks. The atmosphere was stuffy with gasses that were toxic to her lungs. She was the one organic amongst the city of machinery. Her blood made her an outcast in the world of oil and electricity. It0 and Cetus were not struggling in the least. After all, they had no bodies being starved oxygen. She absentmindedly wondered how much the members of the Skaven Razors had been forced to evolve and adapt. It appears, like any species, they resort to alcohol, she mused as the ex-med droid relayed the situation.

“Let’s not wait politely at their doorstep. Shall we continue?” Motioning to a ridged pipe about two meters in diameter that slanted down for several levels, she smiled and made an ‘after you gesture‘.

The three forms descended smoothly and silently to the platform below. Pidge made a catlike leap off, It0 pulled an extraordinarily athletic landing, and Cestus’s large body allowed him to simply step onto the platform. Their entrance had gone completely unnoticed by any man or machine. The Twi’lek looked over the railing and immediately felt dizzy. Level after level stretched downward. In the distance, a figure as small as an insect buzzed around on a speeder. Steam rose from countless vents. Paint on a large pipe formed the aurebesh words “BEWARE. RAZORS CUT”.

Nearer to the group, seven men still patrolled. They had clearly been out that night and Pidge thought is was rather a hazard to have them wandering about so near to the great drops of the platform. She took a deep breath and drew her pistol, aiming it at the nearest man. She fired two quick shots. Both went wildly to the left, hitting the ground and causing a rat to run for cover. She grimaced. “Sorry ‘bout that. I do tech”. Cestus looked less than thrilled, but It0 displayed some sympathy. The men, alerted to their presence (They were truly terrible guards if the only way to get their attention was to shoot at them, Pidge thought) fired back. However, considering most could barely walk without wobbling, the bolts whizzed high above their heads. The woman looked up at the gladiator droid “I’m going to let you shoot, Cestus. You seem vey qualified.” Hopefully she could convince the droid that she was an acceptable organic, despite her combat prowess.

 

[Cestus]

"Shooting is not my style. Just...just...lay down suppressive fire. It0, you too. I'll try and get within melee range."

Cestus dropped to all fours, gave a synthetic, dismissive grunt like that of a great ape before he steamed forward, his powerful motors rumbling into exaggerated life as he moved swiftly and wraith like between what little outcrops of cover the quarry offered. Blaster bolts zipped overhead, he hoped those that drew nearer were those from their enemies and not another example of Pidge's bad aim. He daren't look up to calculate trajectories either way.

A bolt ricocheted off his left shoulder plate harmlessly, but without looking he could sense it came from Pidge and It0's direction. He huffed mechanically and drove the last few feet between him and one of the Razors. This close, unless the Razor had been a wookiee he wouldn't have stood much of a chance. Cestus tore off the arm that had held his blaster and tossed the fatally injured gangster like a dog would a doll that had lost favour.

He ducked down as the sound of a heavy blaster filled the subterranean tomb-space. He mused at the word tomb that rattled around his CPU, considering the death he intended to visit upon these organics the word was certainly apt. He sent a message to the others via his comm link, "Heavy blaster, left of my position. Approximately fifty yards from me. I can get to him but need you to concentrate fire to distract his."

@Tic
@Kestrel