Open Not Even a Thread Title. Someone Please Buy My Droid.

[R5 9A]

The indignity of it all.

R5-9A, at this point, had centuries of medical knowledge stored in his databanks over the years. In his day, he'd treated clones, Jedi, Imperials, prisoners of war, and even other droids. He could stitch up a Bothan and give a heart transplant to a Herglic.

And yet here he was on the auction block.

Once Nor'baal the Hutt had announced his plans to ascend the throne, a small percentage of Imperials saw opportunity. Some willingly offered up their troops to the Cartel, others accepted bribes in exchange for looking the other way, and others saw a means to desert.

That's what ended up happening to R5. The commander of the cruiser R5 had been assigned to had elected to steal as much Imperial equipment, munitions, data and droids as she could, had sold all of it on the black market and then decided to take her ill-gotten winnings to a nice retirement on Canto Bight. R5 supposed he could admire the deviousness of it, even if he couldn't admire his situation.

"...and the bartender droid goes to the lovely Zeltron lady with the pink hat. Next up, we have some military surplus, an R5 series astromedic. If he's good enough for the Imperials, he's good enough for you folks. Sure the R5 was never as flashy as the R2 series but what does it matter if he stitches you up? Plus, when's the next time you're going to see one of these classic droids for sale? Can I start the bidding at, oh, let's say 500 credits?" the Rybeck auctioneer shouted with a flourish of his cane.

500?!? R5 had never been so insulted.





OOC: had this character forever and I don't really know what to do with him. Anyone who wants to buy him is welcome. I'll have him be a pirate doctor droid, a mascot for your character's sports team, an agent for the Hutts, I don't care.

 

[Kit Zelkar]

Spoiler: Music

Kit had just been walking along across the block, minding her own business, keeping her distance from the markets that flanked her, stalls and all, pacing the street’s center. One brown boot in front of the other, footsteps inward, never staggering, admittedly swaggering.

Amber eyes burning into passers-by who dared to look at her. One guy winked with an ugly grin. She curved her lips, a quiet hiss, made him think twice, walked on by. Granted, she tended to attract others for better or worse with her appearance; countenance as much as outfit.

Silver earrings, gold necklace, black sweater offering a toned midriff. A dark green skirt past her knees with a slit on one side. The split hid the knife but not the thigh, smooth skin with a tattoo as wild a pirate in the skies, but that life was done. Sometimes.

An earbud in one ear, blasting some electropunk/cybergoth/rock/whatsuch, the music drifted with the footsteps as Kit looked in one direction and blew smoke in the other. A cloud puffed out from the vape as an auction block caught the privateer’s gaze.

Oh, what have we here? Mark IV Architect goes to the architect, little kid gets the P9-H1 Bunbun, Zeltron gets the bartender droid, and the R5—

“Here,” Kit called, more languid than desperate, raising her hand. She could use a mechanical medic on her ship, and five hundred credits was a fair bid.

@Fantasy Liver

 

[R5 9A]

As if things couldn't get more intolerable!

The stupid auctioneer hadn't bothered mentioning the fact that R5-9A was a decorated veteran of the Clone Wars. He hadn't mentioned he'd competently served the Empire - a regime which notoriously punished droid failure with dismantlings. Forget the mention of serving First Order and this second Empire either. No mention of his breakthrough medical work on the splicing of Trandoshan and Wookiee DNA. No mention at all of his one-of-a-kind experiments on Force-Sensitives and the AMS virus.

No no, all of that was shelved in favor of "military surplus." Those two words were, in the moronic auctioneer's mind, were enough to sum up R5's brilliant and storied career. And to make matters worst, it looked like the only bidder was a pirate, of all things. If it wasn't for this blasted restraining bolt, the astromedic would have blasted all of these fools to bits by now.

"We have 500! Do we have 550?" the auctioneer barked, getting excited at Kit's bid. A wooly Mohsenian raised her hand at 550, glaring daggers at her rival bidder.

@Die Shize

 

[Kit Zelkar]

Spoiler: Music

No mention of don’t-give-a-shit-since-it-isn’t-mentioned, Kit’s thoughts on buying this product, this droid, so it can make some noise in her ship. Like her music did as the song shifted.

Another voice, as expected, when a rival auctioneer barked, some Mohsenian of a shark intent on out-bidding in this business. Raised the price by fifty. Please. Kit may confess. The monkey's black eyes gazed daggers into hers, but little did she know that she was dealing with a pirate.

Ex-pirate, to be precise, but did her outfit really pin Kit for one to begin with? Maybe. Her foxy face, slit at skirt offering a taste of thigh, tattoo as intricate as rude, the pirate’s life was yet behind her. She was a privateer now, not that it mattered.

“600.” Kit offered the higher figure, and a wink to her competitor. There’s your fifty, Miss Shifty. Smoke raised from vape. Raise the stakes?

Maybe, but monkey better witness the knives in the pirate’s eyes, the grin on lethal lips, and the fingers on a hip tipped in black like 'See that blaster in its holster?'. Don't fuck with me.

Just a gesture, maybe, just a player in the game, but did the monkey want to test her?

@Fantasy Liver

 

[R5 9A]

The Mohsenian shot one last glare over in Kit's direction before storming off. The R5 unit was a relic in the Galactic Civil War prone to failure - and bidding 700 was a tad too much for the wooly alien. From his perch on the auction stage, R5 noticed that the Mohsenian stormed off to confer with a handful of lethal looking Barabels. More pirates? This was a thriving spaceport with an even more thriving black market so R5 wouldn't be surprised. He kept his secondary photoreceptor trained on the Mohsenian in case something broke out - pirates tended not to like being outbid on anything.

"And the big bid of 600 means this fine astromedic goes to the lovely looking human!" the Rybet auctioneer said, tipping his prodigious top hat to Kit. After that, the auctioneer moved onto the next droid and a porter presented Kit with her new droid. If she didn't speak Binary, a protocol droid would be provided to temporarily make the introductions between R5 and Kit.

"Greetings, human. My name is R5-9A. I'm a respected veteran of the Clone Wars, the Galactic Civil War and the First Order-Resistance conflict. My databanks contain a veritable treasure trove of medical information that you won't find in any inferior 2-1B unit. Because of this, I'd caution against a memory wipe. May I ask who my new owner is?" R5 introduced himself in Droidspeak. As he spoke, he noticed the Mohsenian and Barabels had disappeared...

@Die Shize

 

[Kit Zelkar]

Spoiler: Music

The Mohsenian shot one last glare over in Kit’s direction before cowering away like a little bitch. The Human-Hapan made sure to dismiss her with pleasure, gave a wink, predicting the essence of the situation with her music’s lyrics. I want you to fuck off as hard as you can.

And let fate or chance have it. It wasn’t as if Kit Zelkar played with a coin when it came to choice or the illusion of it. That was nonsense. This droid was a gamble, a bet, and evidently her efforts had paid for it.

A lovely looking human, the auctioneer had dubbed her, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. Mm. Should bit for his hat. It was fancy, fit the man’s position, and would look good on her, especially in her ship and its name, the Brave Marquis.

Her purchase coming to her, naturally, Kit blew smoke away, kept her vape between her teeth, and produced a pad from her hip. It helped her translate in place of another metallic face to deal with.

Clone Wars. Galactic Civil War. First Order War. Kriff. Kit offered nothing on her countenance as to her reaction of this information. A treasure trove indeed, oh yes, my little metal friend.

“Kit,” she breathed. “Captain Kit Zelkar of the Brave Marquis.” She looked the droid up and down. “And your new name is Warlord.” She shrugged. “Unless I come up with something better.” Didn’t dig it? Didn’t matter. “Follow me.”

At that, Kit turned to make her way through the city streets. Oh, she had since looked away from the monkey woman, but if the latter's buddies came for the former? You’re one-hundred percent fucked.

@Fantasy Liver

 

[R5 9A]

Warlord? Did she not hear the designation R5 had given her? Although he was certainly versed in war, he wasn't the lord of any planets or estates that he was aware of. He chalked the dumb name up to the stupidity of humans - their intellectual capacity was so much more limited than other, more evolved species.

Plus, it wasn't as though

"I thought I recognized you. The Brave Marquis is a hell of a ship." the Mohsenian said, flanked by her four Barabel friends. Each of the three carried large vibrolances and it was clear they regarded the wooly simian as their leader.

"Captain Lekei Nar. Dread Pirate Queen of the Sumitra system. I make it a habit of knowing who my competiton is. Now, if you don't want my friends here to rearrange your face, hand over the astromech. My last medic took a blaster bolt in our last raid and I've always been partial to the R5 units." Lekei Nar said coldly. Although her words may have rang true, from her tone and posture, it seemed this was more about being outbid versus an actual need for an astromedic. Her Barabel enforcers sneered at the promise of enacting violence on the Human-Hapan.

@Die Shize

 

[Kit Zelkar]

Spoiler: Music

Kit heard the voice behind her as she walked along. She paused, slowing to a stop, but did not turn. “She is,” the Captain of the Brave Marquis confirmed. “Her enemies tend to agree.”

Finally, the privateer turned around to face the pirate and her four idiots for minions. Captain Lekei Nar. The Dread Pirate Queen of the Sumitra system. Self-ascribed. In hindsight, maybe Kit ought to have recognized this Mohsenian bitch.

“This is my astromech. I paid for it. Not my problem you didn’t.” Kit leveled her gaze with the pirate captain. Her countenance was composed, smooth as the smoke she breathed.

She stood at a bit of a distance from her opponents in a busy street, but one that had probably seen more than one fight in its time.

“If you want it, my queen…” Kit looked between the Barabels and their lances, ready to dance. Shit. I'd be doing their faces a favor if I rearranged them instead. Fingers cradling her vape, other hand on her hip, motionless for the moment. “Then come and get it.”

@Fantasy Liver

 

[R5 9A]

And thus, there was a standoff. Kit and Captain Narr stood facing each other on the spaceport grounds, each not daring to make the first move until the right moment. Fortunately for Kit, that "right moment" came in the form of R5-9A rolling towards Lekei Narr and her Barabels. Was the astromedic done with Kit Zelkar after only making her acquaintance for a few minutes?

"Ha! See even the droid knows what's good for it!" Narr taunted, shortly before R5 grabbed the blaster pistol strapped to her belt with his hidden grasping mecharm and pulled the trigger. She went down, screaming and clutching her knees. The painful cries were pure bliss to R5's audio receptors. He might be a vicious surgeon and a sociopathic medic but damn it all, he was loyal if nothing else. Kit may have her flaws but she was his owner now.

The Barabels, seeing their captain go down had a mix of reactions. One immediately kicked R5 to the ground, much like a large trash can. Two others began to charge Kit, looking to skewer the pretty pirate with their vibrolances. And the fourth one, probably the smartest amongst them, recognized a losing battle when he saw one and turned tail to run.

@Die Shize

 

[Kit Zelkar]

And, like that, as Kit had half-expected the other chick to storm forth, the droid proved to live up to his new name of Warlord. He wasn’t defecting. He was defending. He was a medical droid as much as a veteran with a voice.

A blaster shot went off, Captain Narr dropped, and her Barabels reacted just as quickly. One bud in her ear, pumping music, Captain Kit watched as one opponent ran off. Damn he’s fast. Around this moment another treated Warlord like a trash can. You’ll regret that.

However, two pirates were immediately upon the privateer. Vibrolances were no joke. If they connected with just an inch of Kit’s skin then she was gonna get stung. So she bit her lip and kept her distance.

The pair of Barabels tried to flank her, stabbing together. Kit leapt back as she whipped out a pair of blasters. Pistols in either hand to end this battle. Shots for the chest proved their best. One Barabel fell. Maybe he was dead.

The other, well, proved to have stronger armor. He staggered backward as the remaining Barabel charged Kit. He slashed downward. She stepped to her left, evaded the hit, lifted her pistol and sent a bolt for his neck, whatever happened next.

@Fantasy Liver

 

[R5 9A]

Unfortunately, there was still one Barabel still active. After kicking R5 to the ground, he howled viciously, inhaled a line of spice off of his battleaxe blade and, with great swiftness, charged Kit.

@Die Shize

 

[Kit Zelkar]

Spoiler: Music IC - Kit's Earpiece

One droid left, one woman left, a privateer, not a pirate, and her audience better kriffin’ remember the difference in it.

After kicking Warlord / R5 to the ground, Barabel decided it was a bright idea to inhale a line of spice from his battleaxe blade.

Few questions with this, such as the logistics of first powdering his blade with spice in order to line up a hit and blow it up his nose quicker than Kit can say ‘shit’.

“Shit.”

Gave her a second at least. Bending her knees, relying on agility and speed, Kit sidestepped the first hit to her noggin by the guy who moved with great swiftness.

Yet Kit wasn’t alien when it came to spice and its elements, from its calming effects to its effect that turned its consumer into a brain tumor and a gateway for a storm of violence.

Vibrant eyes came the way of her ambers as Kit maintained her range, kept her stage, ready to retaliate against anybody who brought a blade to a gun fight arena and no need for gun kata.

No need for spice either.

-BANG!-BANG!-

A couple of pistol bolts ought to penetrate the Barabel’s chest and head and, if they didn’t, Kit would simply have to sidestep again until this spice addict decided to die with some semblance of pride as best befitted his pathetic existence.

@Fantasy Liver (@R5 9A)

 

[R5 9A]

Unfortunately for Kit, the notorious blaster-resistant scales of the Barabels could have withstood the two pistol shots, even without the added resiliency that a hit of spice gave a crazed thug. As such, the Barabel winced with the hits but kept charging and swung his massive axe at the pirate.

For his part, R5 was struggling to right himself and had to resort to cheering his newfound owner as his contribution to the fighting.

"My biological records indicate that Barabels are a bit more prone to blunt force trauma. Their knees especially!" the droid called out.

@Die Shize

 

[Kit Zelkar]

Spoiler: Music IC - Kit's Earpiece (Recurring)

Having fought these creatures before and having taken into account her opponent’s arms and armor, Kit admittedly knew those bolts weren’t going anywhere. Her blasters weren’t even ‘heavy’ to begin with—but they sure as shit could serve as distractions.

Confidence, the Barabel surely felt, given his equipment, his skeleton and his spice-ridden enhancement. Couple of peashooters from his opponent coming at him for him to shrug off? Probably making him grin that moment even as he came in for the pirate.

Luring him back into range with his axe, Kit quickly ditched her pistols and shifted position by spinning away from the downward swinging ax blade, while retrieving her own blade in her dance.

The vibrosword tore for the Barebel’s legs. Given his higher height than hers Kit didn’t have to dip much as she swung, her movements fast and fluid.

Whatever her opponent’s reaction, Kit was ready with a weapon of her own to keep swinging with—assuming he still had knees to begin with.

@Fantasy Liver (@R5 9A)

 

[R5 9A]

The Barabel, predictably and reasonably, shrieked out with pain as his legs were taken out from under him with the vibroblade. Or make that, leg, singular. His tough scales and the quickness of the manuever meant that Kit didn't quite have the muscular power to sever through both legs but she'd taken off the left one and her blade had knicked his right ankle, sending him to the ground.

"Please, mistress!" the Barabel's cries of mercy joined Captain Nar's - although the Mohsenian was starting to quiet down as shock took over. "Mercy for a poor hungry Barabel and you'll have another member to join your crew!"

@Die Shize