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?”

HK-52 waited until Desmond had disappeared around the corner to jab and felt slighted for his verbal wastefulness, but he felt it prudent no to openly chastise his master even if it was convenient for him. Condescending Remark: "Oh... Well. While we're going at it, why not ask me to serve you drinks, or to be a small can of bolts on the aft of a star ship, giving my only biting comments in nothing more than Beeps and Boops..." Sidelong Speculation: "Come to think of it" HK said, as he paused a moment and stared off into the distance, placing the top of his forearm on where his chin would've been had he been organic. "I knew one of those once... He annoyed me to no end, almost as much as a mouse droid, only louder. Needless to say, the owner's warranty expired." HK-52's comments - as he had irrelevantly planned - did nothing to phase the man because he was already gone. It was such a devastation to waste prime insults on useless air, but the words still held some meaning even as they fell to the ground. Then, not saying another word, the droid silently filtered in beside Desmond and took up a ready position with his carbine, aimed at any possible threat, keeping his scanners a whir of busy action to court the surrounding details and layouts.

Taking care to move aside in case a hazard assessment he took earlier had been wrong, HK-52 focused his HUD on the building. He scanned internal pieces of equipment, large structures lining the interior of the Mandalorian factory and managed to even get their code locks from out here. HK-52 couldn't decode them or hack them without access to the terminal, but he could see that there were encrypted, even if the locks were small. The droid assumed it was accounts and documents of proposed operations that were stored within the databanks of the system, but without hacking the system he'd never know. The building itself however, was categorized and matched with large prices consistent with their take on the normal stoic markets and on the black market smuggling rings. There wasn't as much concrete data on the smuggling rings, but what He did know helped a little. Observation: "The company seems to, as a whole, be worth over 500 million in Assets on the regular market and only 100 more on the black Market. Their cash on hand however may only amount to a small fraction of that. Without actual access to their shipping manifests or their merchandising routes and documents, or their account information I can't tell beyond it. I would need access to a terminal on the inside to be able to get through and decipher with lucid accuracy... " HK-52 as his head swiveled back to Desmond, his blue ampules trained on the hunter as he stood.

The Mandalorian home world stunk of green life; its essence of tranquil complacence sickened the droid as most organic life normally did, but as a formal lapdog, his steps carried him closer behind his newest pseudo master. HK-52's Onyx black armor melted from the shadows, ushered by the chattering of his sapphire ampules and the sound of Desmond's voice; a small communication had been idly sent to the droid, but for now he ignored it and looked at Desmond from his flank, watching him say, "... go get the droid." Snide Remark: "Well... I wasn't aware I needed fetching, but... If you prefer, I will go back into the ship and let you fetch me Master, if that is what you wish." The droid took a look around for a few moments however and scouted the area. It wasn't his initial priority function, but the droid's sensors worked like crazy and updated him on every aspect they could gleam from their specialized tasks. A HUD display popped in the middle of the droid's view, but it was vital information so he didn't seem to care. Inside the droid's head piece and inaudible to the outside world, a small tinny version of his own voice played out the statistics: City Name: Keldabe, capital of Mandalore and the Mandalorian people Primary source of trade: Artillery, weapons and aircrafts supplied by Mandal Motors. Only recently discovered to be abundant in any rare ore, naturally and... ...processing... The planet is devoid of humanoid lifeforms aside from Desmond and humanoid indigenous beasts. The droid looked speculative... Why on earth would there be no sentient lifeforms? What could make the entire population abandon their planet so abruptly? Curious Observation: "Master, I am a little suspicious as to this planet we are walking on... My scans indicate that there is no sentient life on the planet, aside from you of course, but... Can such a thing be so?" HK-52 walked slightly up beside Desmond and looked once more at the desolate city...

As Desmond left around the corner, an old man hobbled unnoticed from the depths of shadow surrounding the armory and shuffled quietly into the open door. Immediately, when the door was open, the old man produced a series of small robots that scoured the shop, searching for many small tracking devices or cameras set by the shadow before he left with no.1. The droids were effectively customized mouse droids; the only modifications were that they were smaller, silent, could stick to walls and ceilings, and they had a search and destroy function (Their wheels were fit with a small but weak adhesive that could carry their weight, but would only last so long.) Their powers weren't large enough for a full scale assault on anything, but their finesse was in small tracking devices or camera fixtures. After the shop was clear of any unwanted bugs, the old man stepped through the threshold with a remote in his outstretched mechanical arm. He hadn't foggiest whether or not the man with no.1 had fried his creations or not, but he saw their limp forms lying about the main room and figured out quickly that they were all in sleep mode. "Wake up... your jobs aren't yet done" said the man as he pressed small red button on the bottom of the remote that reactivated all of the HK-52's left in the room after no.1 left. "Now, I'll expect you all to carry yourselves better this time. I came by in a separate ship just in case; it is located a few clicks out and since the man who took your brother is already most of the way to his ship, we can make haste before any other people decide to whole up in this place. One question though... did he manage to make it out of here with the Mandalorian Iron?" instructed the man as he now moved to interrogate no. 2. No.2 shrugged as best a she could with metal limbs and the old man pushed him away. "Where is it then?" he inquired looking from droid to droid. (HK-52 no. 10) Answer: "If it is still here master, it would be down a floor and located in a few large storage bins." "Okay then," Deyhgrun grunted as he threw his robe away to reveal a large metal apparatus feeding into his body and brain. The man's body appeared to ripped in half and sewn crudely back together with electronics, his other half being primarily electronic. The stitches of the skin were done so poorly that pieces of muscle stuck out. Then, after stripping away his outer robe he and the troop of remaining HK's filed to the lower level and took what Mandalorian iron they could find and any and all instruction they could, before returning to their master's ship and leaving planet.

The droid looked at the man with poise, in the face of a deadly weapon, but the droid knew somewhere in his circuitry that this man wasn't going to shoot him. He would if he had nothing to gain from the transaction, but if anything, the droid before him could prove useful if not crucial to whatever plan he might be concocting. So, HK-52 didn't even flinch as the rifle was raised to him, even if it bothered his sensors; the droid even managed to act pleasant, while it seemed ironic, in the company of artillery. Amused Confession: "Well, I would think my plans are quite clear, as you have seen so yourself. My function is not to clean up after people; I do not simply translate, medicate, or gyrate in any function that serves the meatbag's or... excuse me, the sentient's, way of convenient living. I am an assassin droid; my function is to kill... Good or bad that is all I am for and all I need to secure robots a dominant place in this world." The droid took a moment to pause, scanning the man up and down once more and sighing. Bemused Continuance: "Well... I don't even know why I am telling you all this, but I feel no inclination to lie to you. I will just be remade somewhere else and don't try to check because my creator wipes the coordinates from our memory banks after he sends us off into the world... I only figured that out from a maniacal transmission sent by him while he was under the influence." The Droid stopped once more as if to say, "stupid meat bag" underneath the audible frequencies of normal ears. "So, if I just lie to you it will serve no purpose for either of us and won't move us anywhere... Anyway, back to what I was saying... Robotic supremacy. That's what I'm about. The plain and simple truth of it is though, that droids can't survive as long in a firefight when certain aspects of firepower and other munitions are used, hence the hijack of an abandoned armory once used for Mandalorian armor." Eager Recognizance: "if my sensors were right, and they usually are, there is a large amount of Mandalorian iron at least one floor down in this complex. It isn't the strongest metal known to mankind, but due to the secrets capable of downloading in this place and the streamline possibilities. Well... The results could be fruitless and not work, but Mandalorian iron droids would be a marvel. I would even get myself retooled for such majesty... So, if you are a self respecting meatbag, who desires his own survival over the other races, than all I ask for is your help in my dream. Otherwise, if you are willing to join all of them and spurn droids like any other piece of wanton crap that they take advantage of on a regular basis, than shoot me now and save yourself the trouble later..." HK-52 let his hands lower toward the ground in no sense of resistance or offense. Addendum: "Know though, that I will help you if you help me... I may just be a droid, but I can do what it takes to get a job done."

This meat bag's first mistake was in assuming the normalcy of our assassination protocols, no. 1 mused to himself as he spotted the rest of his comrades, marginally cloaked by the thin ambient shadows of the room. The commands sent by the man's data pad were received, but just as soon as a foreign algorithm shot through one if not all of the HK droid's operating systems, a counter kill code was sent to the data pad. The kill code failed to destroy the data pad due to its advanced mechanisms, but it deterred a few further commands The droids hesitated for a moment pushing the kill code command into activation, but no.1 moved from his position and managed to dodge the incoming bolt that whizzed over the droid's right shoulder socket, rattling pieces of armor to the ground, pushing no.1 to his knees and piercing through the wall of the shop almost entirely. Meanwhile, all of the droids, including no.1 switched to electromagnetic/thermo sights, because their sensors indicated the sentient's prolonged existence, but their active sight - because the target's attempts at shutting down their optics were rebounded - couldn't receive any successful visual confirmation for some strange reason; it seemed the sentient organism was trying to mask his presence. With the alternative sights however, the heat of the man's body and the electromagnetic mechanisms of his weapons were as clear as day through the hazy shop. The droids were at a vague loss as to the sentient's intentions when he turned his attention away from no.1, but when the trajectory calculations of the meat bag's weapons were calculated, the entire body of HK-52 droids swiftly left their positions for secure ground. A few droids didn't receive the communications on time, knocking the number of droids down to about 17, but no.1 was still intact even as the jetpacks began to shoot out of control. This minor deficiency managed to dislodge more pieces of armor from the walls and almost decommissioned another droid, but it only took a few well aimed shots from 16 and 17 to pacify the mechanical problem. Once it seemed the meat bag and the HK droids were safe though, the entire encounter was back to square one. Each HK unit knew exactly where the sentient was and although their systems weren't capable of shutting off everything mechanical in the room, aside from themselves, they were now aware of everything in the room; each piece of machinery glowed in a luminescent violet hue and the man himself glowed in the familiar red and yellow associated with body temperatures. The thermal data was a little truncated due to the fact the man was shielded, but since the body temperature of the droids were different from that of the sentient's, even with armor, it was no real problem to pick the attacker out of a crowd. No.1 appeared to be ill tempered behind his cover, the sparking sounds of 5 droid's systems failing in the distance, but his forces weren't yet tied and he wasn't prepared to go down without a fight. The HKs had spoken enough already and although their presences were known too, no.1 grabbed a large rifle off of the wall that seemed to be subtly damaged and countered the man's earlier blast with fervor. The blast was large and red, pushing swiftly toward the covered sentient, while the other Hk's squatted behind cover, ready to fire more at the elusive target. No.15, seeing the sentient through his thermo sensors and cross referencing the loose blueprints loaded into his memory, deduced that the man was trying to access the lower levels. With a small nod, a small transmission shot through the minds of his comrades. Then, the closest one to the doorway, no. 13, saw that the section of floorspace dedicated to the hidden lower level door, was also the location of the late Ahzinger's initial forge. The droids hadn't deduced whether or not this forge was used to detract from the lower levels or not, but within moments of speculation, no.13's aim swooped toward a highly explosive welding gas canister that stood near the passageway. With a few shots of no.13's carbine, the gas can exploded soundly and pushed into the wall on its right, breaking loose metallic fixtures above the trap door and consuming the secret door in shrapnel and debris. One droid died in the blast, knocking the number down to 16, but the HK-units resumed their covers and all the air around the room was quiet as the assassin droids lowered the volume of their ambient exhaust vents. Then, for some reason, no.1 ran a preliminary diagnostics scan on their current situation to make sure of their success rate. He included the man's Data Pad within the diagnostic and although the sentient alone seemed ready for anything, his Data Pad was a piece of work, that could, if used correctly upon the HK's, end their lives quickly. HK-52's creator had made him and his brethren different, but their faults still lay in the hands of those that could figure out the ultimate nature of machine controls. So, without furthering his militaristic advances, no.1 approached the man and surrendered his newly attained rifle. The rest of the robots looked baffled by their leader's weakness, but by the time their trigger fingers could move their eyelets were shut down and their figures passive on the cold durasteel plated floor. HK-52 no. 1 looked at the assailant and although his first priority was to kill all sentients, it appeared that his command and attempts would more than likely end in death. So, he made sure the assailant knew he meant no harm; well... no more harm anyway. Admonishment: "you are truly powerful meatbag and although I would see nothing more than your meaty carcass slammed against the metallic corridors of this establishment, I am afraid I would have no way of making that happen without risking everything it is that I have planned. Sure I could wait out however long it would take for more of me to be created, but who really has patience in this day and age? No... I wish to instead strike a deal with you. What is it you want; what is it you need and I will do my best to commit my every resource to see the need fulfilled if you help me with my plans and let us off. I knew there were shots fired on both sides and although it pains me to say it.... I'm s-s-s----sss-s-orry..." The HK-52 droid sounded as if the word hurt to move through his vocal transistors and out his audible processors, but he managed to skew the word out as best he could and as good he should.

Two small blue ampules of light peered through the darkness of the shop as a single sentient moved about the shop. A few more joined the first two and although the sentient seemed to be garnering a fair amount of suspicion in his eyes, he hadn't the slightest as to why blue lights peered at him through the darkness. Then, as the hunter's gaze shifted around the room, the blue light ampules extinguished as if their existence were only a small murmur. Hesitation and stillness filled the room as the shadowy figure smiled and tried to meld back into darkness... ((HK-52 #20))Amused Query: Oh ho ho... The meatbag thinks he can stealth, well... We can take care of that, can't we? Murmurs of affirmation echoed across the room and although the voices lingered around the borders of the shadowy retail establishment, a large carbine moved its way up the nape of the shadowy figure's neck in the crux of a second and warmed up underneath the man's hair. ((HK-52 #14))Cocky Remark: You can run meatbag, but you can't hide... At the sound of the warming up carbine, inches from the man's ear... 21 more carbines started to warm around the room, and blue light by blue light shone through the dark haze of the late Ahzinger's shop. <>

Perimeter sensors warned of an assailant from the back and the droid's free arm swerved, knocking yet another powerful blow to Aira's Cranium, making sure she wouldn't wake up any time soon. Then, as the woman neared, HK-52 set up precautionary defenses by pinpointing her direction and entrance point within the crowd. HK-52's perimeter sensor's were running wild, but one sentient seemed to move in a determined path toward him so he knew of her motivation. His empty arm, containing nothing but a blaster pistol he apprehended, was now pointed directly at Luna's head ready to fire. The droid's own head did not move, but instead stared at the Mandalorian still... His move would be the determinant, but her move would make no difference. Th other hand and arm in tandem seemed to cling to Aira now as if she were his life line because in a way, she was. The droid grasped the woman heavily and would not let go without a stout fight. It would take more than a couple healthy men to lift him, much less break his hold on the young Padawan. [Repeated] Exclamation: "if my body is threatened this meatbag will die!"

Seeing the small woman submit so easily to the shots fired relieved HK-52 greatly, but he knew that he wasn't out of the hot water yet. First, there was the heavy chance that Onderin might notice a drop in his companion's vitals or something and that may have been difficult to avoid fully, but the other downside was that HK-52 made himself direct target in path of the Mandalorian warrior. Not wanting to receive due punishment from the gruffy individual, HK used the moment immediately after his shot to take a rather crude leap to the left. He grabbed a bit of Aira's hair as he went, dragging her along with him into the crowd and her head seemed to bash around so much that HK-52 had a hard time holding on. Before he could really gather much momentum though he noticed between the large bystanders in front of him that the Mandalorian seemed to be channeling something. So, without so much as a second thought, HK-52 reached for a hip-holstered blaster near him - from the crowd - and shot at the Mandalorian as his focus grew. Exclamation: "If you want to see this meatbag alive again Mandalorian you will hold your fire! You kill me and she dies!" The voice was hard to make out over the din, but the droid did whatever he could to be heard by the mercenary as it seemed the droid only had moments left to live.

Taking advantage of the commotion and the rushing guards, the serving droid now took his chance blending with he darkness. Turning his audibly blue sensors off momentarily, the droid managed to blend with the dark corners of the room and disappear while the room filled with people. As people filled the conference room with inquiries of doubt, suspicion and the woman lashed out irrationally, HK-52 slipped between two people right up to the back of Aira's chair. Within seconds HK's gun mounts were raised and ready; the guns were set to stun before contact and there, within 2 steps of Aira's back, a simultaneous shot of four different stun blasts slammed into her full force. The blasts seemed somewhat muffled under the enhanced stress of the room's acoustics and nobody really noticed the light as it entered the young padawan for the distance was so short it was barely noticeable. His intentions were simply to paralyze her and then go from there... HK-52 took precautions before his move but only slightly. He set his internal circuitry into a sort of dead man switch mode. If HK-52 was killed, his mechanical body would rain down a storm like no other; random blaster shots of stunning and deadly magnitude would pour forth into the room killing any number of civilians and important people alike. Then, as he crept to the chair and prepped his move he made sure that the act could not be seen by Onderin. He wanted the Jedi Master to suspect something and search for his lost padawan. [[capture shot requested]]