Faction Days Gone By || SO Second Legion

[Feyd 'TK-1312']

Wearing: Null Armor
Tag: Gerwald Lechner Tamsin Graves Jacen Breska 'TK-710' CT-312 Quinn Varanin Brooklyn Zambrano

"⠊⠍⠀⠎⠕⠀⠎orry!" TK-1312 said frantically while adjusting her speech scrambler.


Force almighty, first day on the job and she was already frakking it up! She could see it now, in the corner of her HUD, there was a little marker that'd disappeared when she switched the scrambler off. At least she remembered what to look for now, or at least one of the many symbols and text boxes to keep an eye on.

Feyd considered translating for her fellow troopers, but honestly, watching 312 discipline 710 a few paces away kept her mouth shut. She didn't know 312's rank, but on the streets where she grew up the leader was decided by who had the guts to demonstrate they were willing to reach out and take it. And after that show of force?

CT-312 was the boss, designation be damned.

And so the slicer kept her mouth shut and her eyes forward, mind on the job. Even Lord Gerwald Lechner 's joke at 710's expense only brought the barest curl to her blue lips behind the helm, and she otherwise kept to her own business as they all entered the command center. She took position by one of the other doors in case anything came through, kneeling at the corner while sweeping her rifle until she was sure it remained empty.

That is until she was addressed directly.

"TK-1312 and Tall Lady."
"Did we bring a ample power supply of some kind with us?"

She snapped to attention, backpedaling away from the door and turning sharply to address the young with with a salute.

It wasn't until after that she recognized the Marshal of Echnos...

Still, as a Sith apprentice, Lady Graves was her better by every metric.

"I have something my lady," she answered after a brief pause.

TK-1312 pulled from her belt a blocky Rylith power cell, unplugging it from from some device strapped to her back.

"Enough to power my field computer, I don't know if it will fix all the consoles, but one of them, surely."

Assuming she did not experience another colossal frak up like with her scrambler. The very thought caused her to glance around, hoping that no one recognized her voice and put the pieces together.

"The others may need to continue their search if we're to have significant control however, ma'am."

​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Kaila Irons //:
//: CT-312 //: Brooklyn Zambrano //: Tamsin Graves //: Gerwald Lechner //:
//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' //: Feyd 'TK-1312' //:
//: Spooky ship//:

Quinn thought quietly over the assessment that Kaila had given her. The thought that clothing was available that made you hide better in the forest during combat baffled her for a moment. The Princess was sheltered but taught several military conquests of the past. Still, nothing ever mentioned camouflage or anything like it. She assumed Ashin had glossed over that minor detail, thinking that Quinn either wasn't going to need that information or that Quinn wouldn't understand it.

Thinking of those lessons, Quinn could feel her eyes narrow slightly. While she had learned, she also began to feel the holes in the lessons. After her conversation with Ashin at the academy, the Princess doubted herself. Still, Quinn knew she couldn't stray from her path. Things had been set in motion, and stepping off the road would only be a detriment.

Returning to the conversation with Kaila, Quinn nodded. "Thank you, I honestly have never seen that style before." She raised a brow as Kaila revealed more information about the short trooper. "Were they all that small? I can see why they would be a scout." Quinn watched as the little trooper made her way after Gerwald mentioned the generator. Her eyebrows raised as she watched, then looked to Kaila, who was now also moving away from her.

Quinn tilted her head and raised an arm carefully, hoping no one noticed. She sniffed and wondered if travel had caused her to smell beyond her perfume. Not catching anything out of the ordinary, she followed Kaila. "Hey, Kaila, wait for me." There was an air of command in her voice. Quinn continued as they entered the command center after Gerwald and the others. She looked to the Wolf, a man her Mother trusted beyond many who served.

It meant the Princess would also trust the man, but beyond that, she respected him. He had provided her purpose - something many overlooked her with. A hand resting gently on the hilt of the gifted knife, she could feel the warmth of its enchantments. "A generator?" She looked over the area and tilted her head.

"Commander," She addressed him by his title, seeing that he didn't seem fond of the tiny trooper's joke, "These look ancient - why are we bothering with droids that may have rusted beyond repair?"

As she spoke, something suddenly appeared. A feline figure began running after the short trooper, its fur rustling with the wind as it ran. From the corner of Quinn's eye, she caught sight of the familiar. Despite trusting the troopers and their skills, she wanted to keep an eye on where they were headed.

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

​

EQUIPMENT: DC-17m
LOCATION: :: Crashed CIS Lucrehulk ::
TAG: Gerwald Lechner Quinn Varanin Feyd 'TK-1312' Kaila Irons Tamsin Graves Brooklyn Zambrano CT-312

Jacen bowed his head to Gerwald and turned, looking at the two other troopers, 3232 and 1441,
“Don’t smack me,” he said, firmly, to two tilted heads of silent bemusement, then single, non-commital nods.

Jacen keyed his comm as the trio made their way down the hall, turning a corner at the closest junction, and opened a line to everyone going to handle the power situation, “As much as I hate it, and I do, best bet is not to bet everything on one Fathier,” he shut off his comm and brought his gauntlet up to his visor and hit a button, bringing up dated schematics of old Lucrehulks. Once the display was up, Jacen spoke quietly to himself muttering as he studied, “Well, if it’s playing by the rules, these old ships have two reactors, a port and starboard one, and they're both next to the engines…” he lowered his gauntlet and looked down the corridor he was going down. It led down the central spine of the ship towards the engine. He sighed, continuing walking, and spoke again, “...Luckily,” he said sarcastically, “...these old ships were crewed mostly by droids. Sssoooo there shouldn’t be much in the way of emergency bulkheads or anything that’d shut down in case of emergency around these areas of the ship.”

He clicked a tongue, hmming to himself as his trio of men kept walking down the corridor. Finally, he keyed his comm again, "312, I'm headed to the reactors, follow my beacon if you get lost. No rush or anything. I'm sure it's fine." He closed that line and opened one to the rest of the group going off to handle the power, "We're enroute to the reactors, maybe we can get one working easy. If anyone's tagging along...just don't startle my men, they scare real easy," he closed his comm and turned his head to look at 3232 and 1441. Both of them looked at eachother, then at him.

"We do have standing permission to hit you," 1441 said.
"Yeah well I told you not to so you're in a bit of a pickle aren't'cha?" He responded, smirking under his helmet as he turned back around.
"No, not really," came 3232's response.
Twin hands smack the back of his helmet.
​

 

[CT-312]

//: Gerwald Lechner Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Kaila Irons Quinn Varanin Brooklyn Zambrano Tamsin Graves Feyd 'TK-1312' | OPEN | //:
//: Rugosa, CIS Luchrehulk //:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: Z-6 Rotary Blaster Canon & Vibroblade Knife//:
​

As CT-312, RK-1001, and MB-1782 walked the corridors, she was relieved to actually be able to breathe. A moment. Feeling her head clear up and recollecting herself. She wasn't used to being in big squads or groups. Let alone ones that had power houses like Sith Lords. CT-312 noticed on one of the walls there was a sign that said “Reactors”. Pointing further in the back of the crashed Lucrehulk, from where the Second Legion was before. Heading towards that general direction, CT-312’s comms went off.

"312, I'm headed to the reactors, follow my beacon if you get lost. No rush or anything. I'm sure it's fine."

Rolling her eyes, “Of course” she replied. Their boots continuing to echo in the corridor as the metal around them groaned with every couple of steps.

-

"CT-312," he began, his tone measured but firm, "I am your commander, not your owner. I despise slavery in all its forms, and I will not be addressed as such. Understood?"

Surprised at ‘Commander Gerwald’s’ reaction to his title. CT-312 was a bit confused, but understood. Deeply tilting her helmet down and up, “Commander Gerwald” she repeated back. Nodding once.

“Go,” Gerwald ordered, his voice cutting clean through the silence, addressing both CT-312 and Jacen as his cloak shifted behind him. “Secure the auxiliary access. I want those consoles active. I want answers.”

-

As they made their way towards the reactors. RK-1001 changed the comms to their Trooper squad’s line, he was curious. Couldn’t help himself.

“Commander Gerwald eh? What’s with the ‘Owner’ part?” asked the Assault Trooper.

Silence.

CT-312 continued walking, without missing a beat.

“My apolo–”

“I was picked up outside of the Empire.” she gave a deadpan response.

Why did she answer? CT-312 didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. It was clear from her actions and wording that she didn’t know how things in the Empire were run. It was obvious. Might as well let it be known now. This is her new ‘Home’ as Jacen mentioned during their Woostri mission. 'Leftovers' like her having a home. Scoffing at the idea once more. What a joke. It made her blood boil thinking about all of it.

“How else do you think I got stationed here.” Harshly CT-312 stated it not as a question.

MB-1782 slowly turned his helmet, staring at RK-1001 as they marched. The 6’8 ft, Shield Trooper was clearly not too pleased with the situation. The 5'11 ft, Assault Trooper squirmed a bit at the gaze of the imposing figure.

Silence.

A small mumbled shamed response was heard. “Sorry.”. MB-1782 changed their attention from the RK-1001. Focusing on the back of the Scout Trooper's helmet in front guiding them. “TK-710 must be rubbing off on me.”. Sighing. The Shield Trooper looked back up, focusing on the path.

CT-312 didn’t care. It didn’t matter in the end. There was a mission to be done. Faster they're done with this, the faster they can move on. As they neared the Reactors, they came across another signage. Reading.

“Generators
Port | Starboard”

Keying in their comms, CT-312 relayed “TK-710, We’re headed to the Starboard Generators. Going to get that up and running first.”. Signaling with her left hand for MB-1782 and RK-1001 to take the right path where the corridor split. As they neared, something was off. The clear feeling CT-312 had was interrupted. Looking around, noticing nothing was out of place. She slowed her pace. Coming to a stop, turning behind, looking to see if anyone was following them. Empty. There was no one. The Second Legion’s personnel were nowhere near her and the Troopers. The Scout Trooper was confused, was there something else she missed as they were heading to the reactors? ‘What is -’

“Kitty.” in booming low tone emitted from MB-1782.

‘Kitty?’, repeated in her head. CT-312 turned back around facing forward. Glancing at the massive Shield Trooper. He was pointing with his right hand in front. Walking past the two, CT-312 couldn’t believe it as well. Yes, her visor let her see in the dark. But she was in disbelief. Taking out her flashlight once more, shinning it on the cat. A black cat.

“I’ll be damned, that is a cat. What’s a cat doing all the way out here? That doesn’t make any sense.” RK-1001 questioned.

Looking at the black cat, CT-312 could feel the same sensations she felt when she was with the Second Legion earlier on. Locking eyes with bright orange, she felt the atmosphere having weight again. The black cat gave off the same impressions as the cloaked figure that was standing near Commander Gerwald and next to the other black armored Sith Lord. Like a mini black hole. ‘Oh hell no.’ . Blinking rapidly, pulling herself together. ‘They come in cat size now? What is happening?’ CT-312 was trying to wrap her brain around this…this… THING.

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense,” she responded. “Just ignore it. Maybe it’s a new species of space cat. Don’t mess with it. Leave it alone, it’ll go away.” , CT-312’s squad continued. Distancing themselves from the black space cat.

As they finally reached the Starboard Generator, CT-312 looked around. Spotting the console, “RK-1001” .

“On it!”, he hustled to the console. Inspecting it. Kneeling to see what was going on. “Over there”, flashing his light to the two giant cables that needed to be reconnected for a full circuit to be made.

“You guys got this?” waiting for a response.

MB-1782 went to the other side of the room towards the furthest cable unplugged from the ship’s wall. Lifting up the large cable he shoved it into the wall socket, twisting it into place. Making his way to the other area RK-1001 flashed.

“Yeah” "Yes” both replied simultaneously.

“Roger that. I’ll be scouting a bit forward. We’ll meet back up in the corridor once you finish this up”

Both gave their acknowledgments. CT-312 went back into the corridor, inspecting further down the Lucrehulk. She started to come across some broken and displaced B1 battle droids. Entering a room, scanning at the contents, it was littered with B1’s. ‘Looks brand new, if it weren’t for all the dust’. As CT-312 walked around looking. There was one B1 that didn’t match the rest. Raising an eyebrow behind her visor, ‘A defect?’ , she wondered. Walking out of the room, CT-312 started to head back to regroup with the two Troopers.

CLANK

A loud switch flip sound echoed throughout the Lurcehulk's Corridors.

“...and we got half power!” RK-1001 relayed to CT-312.

“Roger that, currently on my way back to you guys”, She swapped her comms to open, for the Second Legion to hear as well as TK-710 and the remaining Troopers. Reporting in. “Commander Gerwald, CT-312 reporting status update. We have turned on one of the electrical generators. Some of the ship's interior functions should be half on. Waiting on TK-710’s group for the last generator for full power. Over”

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

EQUIPMENT: DC-17m
LOCATION: :: Crashed CIS Lucrehulk ::
TAG: Gerwald Lechner Quinn Varanin Feyd 'TK-1312' Kaila Irons Tamsin Graves Brooklyn Zambrano CT-312

The Trio of troopers continued their way down the corridor, quickly bypassing the few doors that slammed shut in their way, and eventually made it out the central spine of the ship and into the massive engine area.

3232 whistled appreciatively at the size of the crafts internal engine system.

“What are you an engine connoisseur all of a sudden?” 1441 asked with a chuckle. 3232 scoffed and responded, “What? I can’t have hobbies?”
“Ship engines are your hobbies?” Jacen asked as they entered the reactor control area.
“What are my hobbies supposed to be?” 3232 asked, approaching a nearby console.
“No need to get hostile,” 1441 responded, throwing his hand up in surrender.
“I’m not getting hos-” 3232 said, turning to look at 1441.
“We’re on the same side,” 1441 continued, gesturing back and forth between the three of them.
“I’m no-”
“It’s okay man, engines aren’t that weird a hobby,” Jacen added, sitting down at a depowered, dust covered terminal.
“I’ll karking roast the both of you in this room and tell the rest of them whatever damn story I want I swear to god.”
Jacen and 1441 looked at eachother and chuckled, “I told you he was mad.”
“I hate you both.”
“Yeah yeah whatever engine boy let’s get this done,” Jacen looked at the console, then out the window to the reactor below, “Yes, yes of course…” he muttered to himself. “So how do we fix it?” 1441 asked, his arms crossed as he lean against the doorway.
“Oh. Uh...I don’t know,” Jacen responded, kicking the useless depowered terminal.

Then, as if a gift from the heavens, the terminal screen booted up.

“Oh that worked!” Jacen exclaimed in barely contained excitement.

“Commander Gerwald, CT-312 reporting status update. We have turned on one of the electrical generators. Some of the ship's interior functions should be half on. Waiting on TK-710’s group for the last generator for full power. Over”

“That could mean anything,” He muttered, sitting at the terminal and pulling up a diagnostics program. Running it and ignoring the programs alerts about critical damage to the ships structure, the terminal told him about the damage to the reactor.

“Is it just to cycle the reactor?” 3232 asked, sitting on a nearby chair kicking his feet up.
“You knew?”
“Well I wasn’t going to help you, screw you, you suck. You both do,” he said, kicking his feet off the dust covered consoles and standing. “I’ll go do it, you both wait here and think about how much you suck,” he said as he sidled passed 1441 into the corridor and down some stairs.

“Do we suck?” 1441 asked, a faux sense of genuine concern coming out his modulated helmet.
“You might suck. I’m awesome all the other guys say so,” Jacen responded to a loud, over-exaggerated scoff, before looking out the window as 3232 approached the reactor and pulled a lever down, setting the reactor to off, turned around, flipped Jacen off through the glass, then turned back around and flipped the lever, bringing the reactor back on and sending full power coursing through a majority of the ship.

“710 to Lord Lechner, the other reactor is up and running, you should have lights and access aplenty here soon, my Lord.” He said, then stood. “Well,” he turned and looked at 1441 as 3232 made his way back to join them.

“Let’s go see what horrors we just woke up.”


​

 

[OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW]

:: O B J E C T I V E - D E T A I L S = A W A K E N::

Tag: CT-312
Location: MAINTENANCE CLOSET - DROID STORAGE
Unit ID: OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW

Darkness…
Nonexistence…

Beep beep…beep beep…

A low hum filled the space. Forgotten consoles and machines whirred to life, and on a charging rack, one droid out of hundreds, one droid marked in white.

One droid that slept for far too long. His activation sequence was started, and he slowly started to unfurl. Rising shakily to his feet, his activation sequence completed.

“OOM-011-Muh muh Marshmallow r-r-r-r-rep-p-porting for du-du-duty!” His vocalizer stuttered, sparks shooting out of his arm joint as he saluted an empty room littered with droids. “O-oh,” he said, looking around.
“W-wow you guys really let yourselves g-go!” He kicked one of them. “W-well I-I’m not cleaning this!” He threw his hands up in disgust and shakily walked towards the computer. With clumsy fingers, Marshmallow signaled the ships Wake-Up Protocol.

Marshmallow, once the Supreme Hero, General of the CIS, Admiral of the CIS, Commander of the CIS, General Admiral Commander of the CIS, close friend of both the Dread Lord and Lady Talon, was now entrusted with being the first droid to wake up, look after the ship. Some might have called him Custodian. In fact, that’s what they all called him. But it was just one title! One among many! BUT NOW! NOW was time for the rest of the droids to get to work!

The ship was cold! It was DIRTY. And according to the console Marshie was looking at, CRASHED. Some time ago! The Galaxy must have been destroyed while he was napping. Why else would they not have come to rescue him?!

“This won’t s-stand!” He weakly slammed a fist down on the console, breaking it. “Oh. Uh-oh.” But the protocol was started. As Marshie looked around, he heard and saw the machines around him whir to life. He saw the other maintenance droids in his area, those still on the racks, begin their activation sequence.
It was time to get this ship back in the air and unleash a glorious new era upon this weakened, apocalyptic galaxy. The Era of Marshmallow, Emperor General Admiral Commander Supreme!

But first, he had to check out what brought power back to the ship after so long. Turning around, he slowly and carefully stepped over his functionally dead brothers and sisters, “‘Scuse m-me. P-Pardon me. Y-you s-s-shouldn’t s-s-sleep there.” He’d apologize and explain as he exitted the room and turned down the corridor.

There he saw a figure, something clad in armor. Marshmallow activated his low light vision. Making out a soldier.

“Oh hello! G-Glorious subject!” He exclaimed, waving his hand at his new subordinate, “O-or are you an ENEMY?! USURPER TO MY REIGN?!” Marshmallow yelled, shaking a robotic fist towards his new arch nemesis.

:: E N D - O F - P O S T ::

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Quinn Varanin | Kaila Irons | Jacen Breska 'TK-710' | CT-312 | Tamsin Graves | Brooklyn Zambrano | Feyd 'TK-1312'

As the hum of the reactor rolled through the deckplates, the command center began to stir. The power came in uneven pulses at first, flickering life back into the Lucrehulk’s dormant systems. Old consoles sputtered, their displays jittering between garbled code and fading schematics, until finally, one by one, they stabilized with the soft green glow of active diagnostics. Dust sifted down from the overhead conduits as dormant servos groaned and actuators locked into place.

Light spilled across the chamber, washing the once-dark room in sterile, flickering fluorescence. Long-dead terminals now whispered with ancient droid code, pinging back status updates from subsystems that hadn’t run in decades. Gerwald watched carefully, his fingers resting near his belt as the command center pulsed to life. He didn’t trust any of it—not yet.

“Commander Gerwald, CT-312 reporting status update. We have turned on one of the electrical generators. Some of the ship’s interior functions should be half on. Waiting on TK-710’s group for the last generator for full power. Over.”

“Understood,” Gerwald replied, his voice clipped, focused. “Maintain position and be ready for potential resistance. This ship wasn’t meant to be boarded.”

A moment later, 710’’s voice crackled across the comms.

“710 to Lord Lechner,” Jacen’s voice came through the comms, light but focused. “The other reactor is up and running. You should have lights and access aplenty here soon, my Lord.”

Gerwald gave a quiet nod and activated his comm. “Acknowledged. Good work. Begin sweep of the local corridors. Mark anything out of place, anything mechanical that moves without orders, you log it before you shoot it. Stay sharp.”

The team’s discipline had been lacking at times, but they were learning. This ship would give them more lessons.

Almost as if on cue, several monitors flared: ACCESS GRANTED. Then another lit up in red: SECURITY GRID STATUS: ACTIVE. A dull, mechanical tone thrummed in the air, quickly rising to a sharp, echoing klaxon.

Gerwald turned toward one of the larger panels as it began displaying red security schematics: internal doors locking down, corridors being sectioned off, and hostile recognition subroutines reactivating.

The overhead lights dimmed to a deeper red hue. Shadows stretched across the room as recessed turret mounts twitched and scanned the air above them. One whined, spinning once before retreating into its housing. It was on standby, but not dormant.

Behind him a technician muttered, “Sir… we just woke up the whole ship.”

“No,” Gerwald corrected quietly, eyes narrowed at the screen. “We just triggered its internal defenses.”

His fingers hovered near the hilt of his saber as he reached out with the Force. The ship was ancient, but the malice in its programming was sharp, focused, and designed for war. It had just remembered what it was built for.

Somewhere deep in the ship, long-dormant storage bays opened with a hiss of decompressed air and the whir of automated systems. The grinding screech of servomotors followed. Dozens of B1 battle droids dropped from magnetic clamps like dolls returning to the battlefield. Their photoreceptors flickered to red as they took up positions in staggered ranks, rifles held loosely, scanning for targets.

In the bay beneath the engine core, massive forms lumbered from slumber. B2 super battle droids, heavier and more imposing than their skeletal cousins, marched with hydraulic strides. Their arms powered up with a low-pitched whine, integrated blasters humming with barely contained energy. One turned its domed head slowly toward a wall, letting off a test burst that blew a scorch mark into the ancient durasteel.

And then there was the telltale sound of something worse.

A deep mechanical growl echoed through the corridor systems—Droidekas. The unmistakable whirring of tri-legged wheels unfurling from transport mode. They rolled out from recessed vaults in threes, bronze casings gleaming under the harsh lights, their twin arm-cannons already hot and primed. As each set deployed, their protective energy shields snapped to life with a rising hum and a pulse of flickering blue light. Lethal, fast, and relentless—these weren’t patrol units. They were war machines.

Gerwald watched the security footage spool across the command center’s screens. Every hallway lit up with movement, signatures pinging faster than he could count.

“They had a standing army entombed in this wreck,” he said under his breath.

The air in the command center felt heavier, almost oppressive. The walls, once cold and inert, now buzzed with life—every console, every vent, every hidden seam now a potential threat. A line of red light ran across one of the upper walls as a turret began scanning for motion.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Armor + Mask
Tag: Quinn Varanin Gerwald Lechner Tamsin Graves Brooklyn Zambrano
Elsewhere: CT-312 Jacen Breska 'TK-710' OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW

"No, she is incredibly short, even for a scout." Kaila stifled a chuckle as she passed through the door.

When told to wait however the young Darth ceased immediately, turning to regard Quinn Varanin with a nod. To the outside looking in she was exactly the loyal bodyguard and knight she claimed to be, ever at the echani's beck and call.

"Forgive me," she said, leaning in to whisper, "It seems enthusiasm drives my pace."


While her charge spoke with Lord Lechner, Anathemous watched Tamsin Graves go about ordering her troopers and incorporating the young acolyte into her plans. It felt good watching her student grow into her new position, and not just because she could heap responsibilities on her when the young Darth didn't feel like tending them herself.

She was actually quite proud.

"Perhaps we should send you to lead the reactor team? I believe they could use sith oversight."

A babysitter, to put it bluntly, lest they fall victim to imaginary "cannibal droids". But also a chance for her to gain experience leading the empire's... finest...? mostly finest.

The empire's good enough—

“No,” Gerwald corrected quietly, eyes narrowed at the screen. “We just triggered its internal defenses.”

Whatever enthusiasm had entered with Anathemous passed her by instantly.

Leather gloves audibly strained between her fingers, wrapped tightly around a holstered lightsaber, as red warning lights blinked in and out all around her. Eyes darted from place to place with every ringing omen and every datafeed sprawled out on consoles which flickered to life one by one.

She didn't know where the enemy would come from but she could feel it even before her natural instincts began screaming at her to move, to fight, to flee, but she did no such thing. Instinctively the opposite hand slowly rose, reaching out towards her echani lover. The air crackled with static only they could feel as she prepared to summon a barrier between her and harm, forgetting for but a moment that Quinn needn't her protection.

But when the baleful light of death shone she froze.

The only movement about her large form? the subtle ripple of her throat beneath her bodyglove, fear being swallowed.

Two of her droids standing beside her looked upward at the ceiling turret, drawing it's attention. The light shone across their metallic forms, then flashed red with an accompanying, damning series of beeps and woops.

They did not register as CIS manufactured.

"Uh-oh." they spoke in unison, milliseconds from their fiery deconstruction.

Seizing the opportunity their sacrifice had brought, Anathemous pulled at a broken wall panel with an incorporeal hand, lifting the ancient metal between the mechanical foe and her fellow imperials to take cover.

​