HK-52

Miserable Resignation: It seems I have run out of legs to stand on. HK-52 received many alarm klaxons that broke the relative silence of his H.U.D. His consistent regenerative statistical analysis was growing dim and his chances of survival were now 0.33 percent, which was pitiful odds. Recalling a famous figure from the past, HK-52 mused: Reminiscent Action phrase: Never tell me the odds. The droid gripped his E-11 with what strength he had left in his servos and launched a decorative countermeasure. A sparkly ball of white fire launched from his chest piece and landed a few feet away in the sand. The Jawa, whose body seemed spent and inert, took note of the shiny object and began to drag itself in the direction of the countermeasure. It took little regard for its frail body and started to sacrifice its own wellbeing to retrieve and object of little to no value. HK-52’s programming warmed to the opportunity presented and he aimed his E-11 precisely at the Jawa’s head. Three shots. Evenly spaced. And all within a few seconds. The satisfying thump of the Jawa’s body was enough to make an organic meat sack cry. It was an artistic representation of his vengeance toward the tiny rat. And just as HK-52 took glory in his conclusive strike, he felt the joints of his body vibrate and give way. Ironic Concession: It’s the suspense that gets me. ((3))

Angry Command: You get back here you filthy little thing! How dare you make me trudge after you! HK-52 was close to just throwing his rifle to the ground and walking away. It seemed whatever had put him here was content to watch him suffer for his mediocrity. But some niggling part of his programming wouldn’t let him leave. A code, buried deep in the denser parts of his droid brain, ordered him to obey even the simplest command given by his master. Even if his master was metaphorical and the command was implicit or vague. Futile Assertion: It seems I have no choice. I must kill the filthy rat monster. The droid examined the strategic layout of his surroundings and approached the dune that the beleaguered rat was hiding behind. He readied his gun for just the right moment and waited for just the right moment. He swung his barrel over the dune and aimed right between the wriggling vermin’s golden eyes. And then, the Jawa scurried away. Wait, not away; the Jawa scurried right into the droid’s leg and began to try and dismantle him. Despairing Plea: Get off me you rag covered, flea-bitten, sorry excuse for comic relief! His shots were wild, but HK kept plugging away at the Jawa in the hopes of finally pushing the rodent off of his leg. ((2))

Idle Query: It seems I have stumbled upon a block in my programming. I do not remember what happened over the last few hours. One moment I was standing in a lab, and the next, I am here and all my joints are covered in sand. Agitated Realization: I think I may have been drug into a meaningless escapade of shenanigans as a form of literary masturbation. Hmm… HK shook his arms with futility. He tried to dislodge some of the sand from his servos and only succeeded in spreading the sand around. He was going to try and salvage something from his inconvenient predicament when a small rat-like creature slammed into his knee. Furious Rebuttal: Jawa, I believe you have made an error. I would retreat if I were you. Of course, the warning was just a formality. The barrel of his E-11 reached the point of the Jawa’s forehead before the little vermin could run. It seemed he was stuck in this hole. But, some fun never hurt anything. He fondled the trigger of his rifle, prepared to fire, but didn’t process the outlying factor. A small glimmer shone in the distance and before he could react, the thermal detonator exploded, scattering the droid’s chassis to the wind and pushing it a few feet away from the Jawa – who was also caught in the fire. Irritated Plea: Whoever put me here. I hate you. Please get me out. It took a moment to stand. But when he was able, the HK unit stood and fired a few shots at the smoldering Jawa.

Statement: "I am very pleased with tools of murder and mayhem you have supplied. I will do what I can with these and bring you back any proof you might need" The droid gathered up all of the items, slung the rocket launcher on his back and held his own blaster rifle in his arms. He placed the grenades on three magnetic coils installed for that purpose on his side, and stashed the poison in a small metal compartment located in the lower right part of his torso. The extra ammo and equipment provided were placed on a hover dolly and would have to be pushed back to the ship now coming through orbit and touching back down upon the planet's surface. HK had no intention of hiding his armaments, because his cover wasn't that of a protocol droid this time. It may be a bit blunt and callous, considering the number of witnesses involved, but considering the job, HK was more than willing to just let it go. He would be posing as a body guard droid for a former galactic alliance delegate and a formal imperial officer. It would be an interesting experience, he knew, but he also knew or predicted that his stay would not be prolonged. Closing Statement: "Alright, I will return if and when I have finished the job. If I don't finish, I won't come back. That simple." Then, with his final words echoing through the complex, the droid turned slightly, allowing his legs a little room to adjust, and began pushing the dolly toward the ship that landed approximately half a kilometer away. The distance didn't bother him though. He was a droid; he was cold metal. There was no sensory displeasure or joy to be had from his journey, other than an impatience at being held up. His serious expression never changed because it was in his physical make-up, and his cold blue eyes swept across the blank horizon full of vibrant yellows and greens without feeling. His arrival was short, contemplative and productive. Once loaded, the ship performed all landing precautions and took care not to break up when hitting atmo. Once the ship cleared the dubrillion atmospheric spheres, it sped off and into space.

It seemed this particular meatbag enjoyed his thinly veiled attempts at humor. The coarseness with which his words pierced the audible frequencies of the room were irritatingly familiar and, for a moment, HK could simulate his own mechanical musings with that of the species Bith. Rarely did HK get to use the audible faculties provided by his audio receptors, and these 'humans' with their mockery, never ceased to bemuse and annoy the cold metal droid. Irritated Statement: "Well Master, if you must know, I would like a list of things including and not limited to: a few synthesized pills made up of a substance construct similar to Abrin. It is a protein found in a plant not particularly common in this galaxy. However, it is said that there may be something similar to such things. You will know it, because it disables the body's ability to synthesize proteins." Addendum: "It is also certain that I will need a few grenades. One thermal detonator of medium magnitude, a flashbang, a cryoban grenade and a frag grenade. No specific reason." "Oh! And if you wouldn't mind, a rocket launcher would be ideal as well." HK-52 was in the moment with the Black Sun representative, but a small message came in his internal comms. It transmitted through his datapad up-link and even though it was a tiresome interruption, something about his current situation and this particular development seemed to mesh together very well. Discretely HK sent a response to the message and answered the query even while continuing to stare at the Black Sun agent.

HK-52 cast aside the poor life form's attempt at humor and instead chose to focus his photo receptors upon the folder gripped within the meatbag's cold fleshy hands. He couldn't understand the appeal of having all of those fleshy organs wriggling about under sacks of easily permeable bags of skin. The thought of it repulsed and intrigued the droid, but in the end only served to bring renewed joy to the droid's circuits in knowing how vulnerable this made them. Once offered the jet black folder, tuned to what only HK's or another droid's photoreceptors could receive, he read out, detailed and stored exactly what the assignment entailed into his memory bank. The thoughts and calculations of success were highly variable considering the parameters and even though he desired some sort of closure, no particular calculation could lend him the particular satisfaction of knowing the outcome. Still, weakness wasn't an option, for no HK droid would knowingly or willingly turn down the opportunity to destroy a meatbag. Helpless or not. Respectful Agreement: "Oh yes master, the droid shall do as contracted and nothing more." Addendum: "However, I am guessing that I have access to your weapons storage and you will regard my previous offer of employment more efficiently if I bring this particular operation to a close?" HK sent out signals to the ship, now hovering in orbit above the planet, and it whizzed off. Immediately after he was aware of the urgency, prestige and parameters of this mission, it became clear that he would need a solid alibi. So, because it was known around the galaxy that Naboo was reconstructing, who better than an architect would serve his needs? And, with the turmoil of the Nabooian crisis looming overhead, who is to say that he will have much trouble getting in? It was going to be a trial, and one that HK was most looking forward to.

A small freighter broke through the atmosphere with ill regard to any particular discretionary atmospheric precautions, aside from the appropriate preparations for landing. The vessel took solace in a nearby glade that rest a peaceful distance from the large Black Sun facility, and once its bounty was surrendered, the lump of metal lifted back up into space once more, to hover in orbit and await further commands. A small black figure strode across a stone walkway leading to the Black Sun Compound. Metal rubbed against the cold gray stone, making a harsh mechanical torrent of noise that screamed through the afternoon with no hint at stopping. Servos of what appeared to be a rather large protocol droid, hummed to themselves, even under the cacaphonic adversity upon which the droid's sensors were now spectators of. And even with a steady pace, the droid managed reasonable time in approach of the grand doors to the Black Sun compound. The Onyx black of the metallic sheen seemed to mock the droid's innate purpose and the blue of his ampules brought a cold chill to the air as he walked. He was an avatar of his lineage; even if he stood stronger and taller than those before him, his architecture would be remembered and the soul of his past would follow him to his final system failure. The droid approached the front gate and waited, marveling at the sheen of his finely polished metal chassis, even while taking notice of the gate guard. Query: "I am here to request employment within the Black Sun. Would such a position be available?"

((NULL))

A broken droid head's vocabulator reactivated mysteriously on the ground near one of the Honor Guard's feet. His feed was recalcitrant to the actual ability of his speech, but the message was clear enough to understand. "This was all Kitt's Idea!" It said in a fragmented stream of common and then, with trouble, circulated to the second message in its repertoire. "The Black Road may show no path toward destruction; a mastermind waits and does the bidding of those who would see this galaxy burn." Luckily this message was on a lower frequency than the other when it came to combat, not that all of the Wookie's had a chance to decipher it while their trees were burning but now the riddle rang through the silence of the atmosphere in a weird warbling indicating the vocabulator's damage. The Honor Guard that had accompanied Master Kitt on his investigation, decided to recount this information to the Jedi master whenever prudent.

A broadcast signal was sent out of the lush green planet Kashyyyk. It showed the residents enjoying peaceful commune with their brothers and the enjoyment of the walking carpets that lived there, but all of a sudden crimson light shot from off camera, flooding the right side of the picture with an auburn flame. A small black droid could be seen in the corner of the shot, but the picture zoomed back to reveal roughly a hundred or so droids in what looked to be standard black durasteel plating, marching on the peaceful patrons of Kashyyyk with no intent on ceasing their hellish crusade. Roars of pain and agony filled the signal for a few seconds as Wookies and animals alike bellowed out in unison. Then, the words, "Who is responsible for this catastrophic event taking place on the beautiful planet of Kashyyyk?" appeared in long stringy yellow letters that streamed up and away from the viewer as if the words were flying away. Then the words, "The Jedi" followed, in the long yellow letters, but with a stern boldfaced typeface that really captured the strength of the message. The oration continued however in another long series of words that followed the same pattern. "Want to know how you can stop this catastrophe? Find the Jedi and stop them!" Then, the picture closed on a Wookiee baby having his hair burnt off while his mother cried in the distance. Then the footage faded to black and clipped off without another word.

The black sheen of droid metal gleamed under the natural light of the Kashyyyk atmosphere and hundreds of blue ampules gleamed with no remorse hidden in their lifeless sapphire glares. Immediately Flamethrowers in every direction, sprang to life and began to drown the trees in flame. Wookiees rushed toward the droids with malicious intent at their complete disregard for the Wookiee homeland, but the droids kept moving. The air stunk of burning bark and incinerated Wookiee flesh minced with hair. It was an enormous bloodbath that was only starting and as the droid's position widened and accelerated there was no telling when it would stop. The presence of the droids was oddly mysterious, but the conundrum was abetted when a large droid soared above the crowd of mechanical terrorists with a camera attached to it and several large banners emblazoned with the name of their benefactors. The words, "THE JEDI" hung in big shimmering blue letters practically pronouncing their identity to the entirety of Kashyyyk as those responsible for the deaths of the Wookiees there and the utter decimation of the wildlife. The spectacle would no doubt be broadcast on the Holonet as a horrific display of the Jedi's cruelty. ___________ The army of mechanizations was led by none other than the first model himself, wearing a shiny new suit of metal armor fashioned from what seemed to be regular old Durasteel. However, HK-52 model #1 and his companions, who landed on the outskirts of the Wookiee's principal hunting grounds and incinerated all they came into contact with, were made of a Durasteel that was salvaged over time from several Metal components dissected from old versions of the Jedi temple that stood on Gala today. The entire collection of steel was donated by a mysterious benefactor that preferred to remain nameless even as he left the site laughing evilly under his breath. Each one was also programmed, by request, with an automatic set of passionate cries and responses tuned toward furthering their Jedi identity. A few examples would be, "The peace of this galaxy will be cemented when the Jedi finally destroy the walking carpets!", "Wookiee's are the reason for aggression in the galaxy, when they are wiped out, the Jedi's plight will prevail!". One droid was even set to say one of two phrases, one of the strongest being, "This was all Kitt's idea!"

Within moments of their delivery, the invaders made one dreadful mistake. Hiding in the woods nearby the invader's landing, was a scouting party of HK droids blending into the brush. Their Black Mesh paint made it easy to meld into the shadows and they made no movement at all. They managed to get within distance of the group as they packed up to go, but found it interesting that they were still leaving packages as they left. One package in particular was left in their stead and another, although heading in the right path, had crushed an HK-52 droid a few clicks away and was being checked out as the rest of the party scouted ahead. Now it seemed that there wasn't much scouting to do, because the incursion they had discovered wasn't making any move to attack, defend, destroy... Anything... <<Duress: This is HK droid 0132, do you copy scouting team?>> The scouting team of droids held still, watching the invaders clear the area in silence, waiting for the ship to finally lift off before they answered. <<Response: Yes, we copy... What is your status 0132?>> There was a momentary pause indicating a slight lapse of silent hesitation over the line. <<Concern: Sir, the packages they delivered are large bombs. We managed to deactivate this one and by its energy readings we can pick up faint energy signals all across the area. There are about 10-20 spread out in a relatively decent are across the planet's surface ((you didn't specify so I improvised)) . This ones timer was set to about an hour or so so I can only imagine how much time we have left before the others go off.>> Then the invader's plan became clear... They weren't there to do anything but destroy the planet and move on. Well we can't have that now can we. <<Serious Instruction: Send orders to Malachai as well as your energy read outs and get him to send out parties of droids on speeders. the scouting party will try to get as many as it can and if you can, get to as many explosives that you can as well. If this is to be our home for a while we need to make sure it is in one piece alright?>> So, within the span of an hour, the droids from the factory and a few that had been at the rich Mandalorian ore vein spread out amongst the planet in a rapid flurry of motion. There was little to be done when it came to actually deactivating them because droid 0132 had told them roughly the same algorithm that he had performed in his duties and they experimented with each bomb to make sure the process worked. ___________________________________________ After the hour of supposed freedom from explosive dismemberment, one bomb still remained tempting their inevitable destruction and minutes were ticking down while Malachai stood aside with his arms folded. The twisted maniacal scientist marveled at the capability of these strong explosives, but was also busy trying to figure ways in which to distance himself from the threat and continue his plans. "I've got it!" said Malachai as he nudged a droid out of the way. Since the algorithm to deactivate the bomb was a little too lengthy for the minute or so they had left, Malachai re routed a few circuits, took a few mechanical parts from one of the nearby HK's and fashioned a propulsion mechanism, which shot the bomb rapidly into the air. "From my calculations though, my mechanical friends, I think we may still have to move." stated Malachai as he began to run briskly off in one direction. A large portion of the droids followed, but one of them - along with his friend who was crawling on the ground left and right due to his missing mechanical parts - remained behind, looking into the sky as if hypnotized by the bomb as it went. Then... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!! A huge explosion ripped through the upper atmosphere of the planet and caused a crater to form in the exact place of the gawking HK droid, rendering his entire body useless... Floating in a pile of ash. After the explosion though, the HK droids went back to work as normal; a few more scouting parties of one or two more droids were going out occasionally, just in case; Malachai was working his droid designs with the ore that was already available, working on a holographic emulator big enough to simulate Mandalore's destruction - hopefully getting those terrorists off of their backs - and perfecting the beta droid he had. It had been a few days since their takeover and the factory was well underway on its development towards a brighter more robotic future. The robots sent to the rich Mandalorian ore vein were having a rough time actually getting their drilling equipment to work, but on about the third day, they managed to get a substantial hole into the ground...

It had been a few hours since the completion of the mildly uninteresting city heist at the behest of no real struggle. Although the droid was 10 million credits richer, he couldn't help but feel a little antsy, so he moved closer to the cockpit so his qualms were known. Respectfully sarcastic admission: "I must admit, Master. Your skills at robbing are fairly adept for an organic meatbag. I might even come up with a few more interesting names for you, should my respect for your tactics garner them." HK's words were straight and even; he led his speech with a moderately practiced tone and meditated calm, which seemed his trademark as of late. It was a general form of speech for him that, although peculiar for a droid, was a fairly ordinary trait for a droid like him. It seemed from the surface audio like normal speech, but was physically suppressed as if through mental inhibition. The reason for this though was fairly easy to understand. HK-52 is and was at least half protocol droid. He could read conversations and tabulate certain ways to respond or talk, even if he wanted to be snide and unappreciative. So his meditated or practiced tone, was simply a methodological calculation of his protocol capabilities. Query: "Where Pray-tell, are we headed next I wonder? Could we perhaps go and steal candy from a Wookie baby? Maybe even rob a holo movie from a novelty shop whose owner is out to lunch? Or perhaps might we go for the even bigger bounties? Could we perhaps be robbing an entire Toy Store? Goody..." The HK droid laughed slightly, enjoying his own feeble stabs at humor, but in the end, his tone straightened to a more serious intonation. Suggestion: "Might we take a stab at organized crime syndicates? They might garner more salary for the taking, not to mention it might be more of a game; not merely a snatch and run."

As Desmond Nizar's ship parted for his next intrinsic criminal escapade, a large transport vessel soared into the atmosphere and touched down with only slight hesitation. A large hiss-clunk! reverberated off of the few nearest buildings as landing gear thudded to the soft ground. Within moments of its operation though, the large cargo bay door was opening, hearkening the massive procession of 50 HK-52's as well as a prototype Mandalorian Iron HK-52, being drug behind the march on a stretcher. As silently as they could, 25 of the 50 moved toward an indicated vein of Mandalorian iron ore, and the remainder moved toward the empty Mandalmotors factory. Their nefarious purposes still a mystery, a large bionic humanoid followed the team of 25 making their journey to the ghost of a factory.

The droid followed quietly behind the indomitable organic that had become his masterful tumor, however pleasant or unpleasant that may have sounded. The droid found himself inexorably bored however as he moved through the buildings aiming his carbine at wisps of Mandalorians that weren't there. HK-52 knew they weren't there, because his sensors weren't indicating any more than the expected signs of life on the planet, but he moved his carbine regardless, to show that he was doing something instead of just standing around, looking like a shiny bundle of useless metal. Plus, it always did anyone well to have his guard up even when the area was suspected to be clear. When Desmond entered the factory HK followed suit, his metal feet making small but marginally silent clacking noises upon the still air, and was immediately amazed at how good the man's hacking skills were. Granted, the bulk of the work was probably handled by his head sized indentured servant that was now linked up to the ship merchant's server, but HK managed to keep a calm mind and not steam his servos with pointless irritation. Deciding the spectator-ship wasn't worth his time though, HK continued pointing aimlessly at the motionless walls and it wasn't until HK heard Desmond speak that his attention was renewed in the immediate present. ”œWe need to go down two floors to make it to their safe. Do you think you can handle this job alone while I go get this ship. OR shall I follow behind you?”