Public Pandora's Box is Open

[Battle Droids]

• Coruscant
• Morning
• Cenway, an Abandoned Industrial District
• Old Unknown Factory Site

Misty rain hit the streets; a cyclic weather control system allowed an even downpour over this area. Rain granted life to the few areas of Cenway that were overgrown, and though the attempts to reclaim this brown site were given up to nature or time, the programmed cycle continued. Firmly considered a disused part of the mid-lower levels, Cenway was home to the homeless, squatters, gangs, local churches, and poor communities seeking out a living. Today, though, a report of something weird was circulating nearby. An old, rusty crate lay open, and about three dozen battle droids had just been pushed out of the side of it on a deployment rack; each was curled up into a ball holding a weapon.

"Roger, Roger, Roger," they echoed in unison, their synchronized voice a testament to their shared struggle and possibly their collective stupidity.
"Roger. Roger," another two repeated.
"Roger."
"Hey! Quit it!"
"Roger."

The creaking sound of metal could be heard within the abandoned factory. Confined within their rusty old crate, the droid's deployment device appeared in disrepair, the unfolding mechanism struggling to free the droids. In their attempts to unfold themselves, one droid inadvertently stepped on another's head, causing a chaotic tumble in the center of the crate, resulting in the hapless battle droid being crushed by another railing pushing out.

Sadly for the droids, the railing jutted back in, pulling them all along. One's head got lopped off with a chop, leaving a decidedly confused battle droid with answers it would never find.

Curiously, there were cryptic markings on the crate. If anyone happened to be close enough to read them, or if someone perceptive to force signs walked by, they might sense a strange opportunity or mystery from the even stranger display. Weapons were visible, but whether the droids would be aware of anything or anyone was another story.

 

[Battle Droids]

Circuits hummed with uncertainty, and a dizzying back-and-forth display of acrobatics befell the troubled droids. They faced a tough choice: try to detach from the railings and risk early retirement, or hold on and hope their circuits didn't shake loose.

"What do we do?"
The old container began to resemble a vending machine of unfortunate droid parts rolling out of it.
"Er, you're on my head. Hold still."
All the railings jutted out at once, and the cage began to tip.
"Woah."

CLANK.

In their predicament, our fearless droid companions found themselves upside down, shifting from experiencing a rollercoaster ride to figuring out how to stand while being crushed by a large container.

"Push with your hands together."
"Roger Roger"
"Not pushed together, pushed at the floor."

Two dozen hands pushed downward and began to carry themselves like some robotic insect crawling along the floor. Our heroes started bravely rocking the container, left and right, and rolling themselves onto their side to snap off the railings holding them. Freedom! Twelve droids stood up in unison, then another twelve, then whatever was left, all turning sideways to exit over their fallen comrades.

"Commander X71-00 Reporting, commence deployment." declared the droid with a distinctive yellow marking on its forehead, a token of its authority. Possessing unmatched container awareness tactics led the way to an assured victory. Sadly, whatever orders were being obeyed, who knows how old they were, or maybe they were waiting for this exact time.

A lone pair of bloodshot eyes observed from outside, and a figure in engineering clothes in the doorway turned to leave, wiping his old-stained hands together and chuckling. Two robotic hands touched the dead factory controls—energy-filled dead wires and broken machines humming to varying degrees of effect.

Ding:
Now processing container two.

OOC: Deployed Forces

Spoiler

1 x Commander
2 x Corporals
25 x Battle Droids (B1 and B2 Models)
Factory Condition. Badly Damaged
1 x Sithwatch

 

[Battle Droids]

​

Stage 1 Initial Factory Repair

Written symbols, like whispers in a crowd, clandestinely exchanged messages passed between the hands of castaways. The downtrodden and the disenfranchised carried the call. In the gloom of Coruscant's underways, the Sithwatch lurked like a spectral boogieman. Its form was elusive, and it was barely understood to exist at all. Each building in a sea of them was a potential site for an agent. A never-addressed festering wound from a former incarnation of the alliance, much to a certain vengeful Sith's eternal profit.

Meanwhile, the B1s, oblivious to their unwitting role in the grand scheme of things, toiled tirelessly in their service. Shadowy hands guided their robotic fingers as they worked with every nanosecond pulse of their power core, unknowingly furthering the plans of their unseen masters. Two thin metal hands gripped a break in the cables, a surge of power frying their innards. A brief connection lit up the factory shell, elevating the position of two of the floor's mechanical staff; from below the central floor, another large crate appeared under their feet.

"Be careful with this thing; it's on."
"Roger Roger. On what?"

The power lights on the crate blinked, and it burst open. A disorganized mess of spare parts flew out in all directions, bowling over a few of our heroic but hapless inhabitants. Four second-degree engineering droids emerged from the chaos, their polished metallic frames gleaming in the factory's dim light. The LE Series Repair Droids carried ready materials and tools, efficiently beginning their preprogrammed work. Pandora's box was opening.

Atop the overseer's podium, the commander stood, flanked by two guards and a small shield generator. The engineering droids first provided him with cover, then X71 raised the commander's podium above head height and set stage two into motion.

"Now processing crate three." A shrill call came in the middle of the mechanical machinations. The announcer deafened the auditory sensors of anyone in its path.

OOC: Deployed Forces

Spoiler

1 x Commander (Podium | Shield Generator | Cover)
2 x Corporals
24/25 x Battle Droids (B1 and B2 Models)
Factory Condition. Badly Damaged (Fixing)
4 x LE Series Repair Droids
8 x Alerted Sithwatch

 

[Battle Droids]

Stage 2 Positional Reinforcement

Proceeding on time, the next crate seamlessly opened thanks to the repairs. Two squads of loyal clankers unfolded and picked up small boxes in their arms to ferry materials back and forth, transforming the outside to be as busy as the inside.

Ominously, the local Sithwatch numbers became active, and any rare witnesses to the disused site mysteriously began disappearing, suppressing any reports of the activity or communication going on here. Who knows how long that would last before whispers, rumors or fears escaped their control? The wider Pandora's box opened, the greater the sense of impending danger in the surrounding area and community, perhaps by design.

X71's programming surged from his overseer podium into his next coded evolution. Plugging himself into the factory to integrate with factory operations. Ominously, a red glow formed from his ocular sensors, the droid's transformation began hinting at darker intentions.

"SGT, maintain a perimeter; nothing must get through." X71's commands were sharper, carrying more menace in their delivery.

Outside, flak batteries raised by tireless mechanical effort stood ready, placed to counter any starfighters or massed local resistance. Below the factory floor, engineering droids had activated the facility shield generator.

"Proceeding with Stage 3." With each stage announced, the atmosphere grew busier and more dangerous, an impetus to the rhythm. One with the factory's development, the droid commander's transformation grew more pronounced.

Directive C1 - Active Forces

Spoiler

Base Defense:
1 x Commander (Podium | Shield Generator | Cover | Integrated )
26/27 x Battle Droids (B1 and B2 Models)
4 x LE Series Repair Droids

External:
2 x Squads of eight B1 Battledroids on the perimeter.
16 x Alerted Sithwatch running interference.

Facility Condition
Factory Condition: Damaged (Under Repair)
External EFB1 Flak Batteries: Operational.
Facility Shield Generator: Operational

 

[Scylla AI]

Coded symbols began to alert more Sithwatch that the time was near, it grew like a cancer, and it wasn't the only thing Pandora's box had let loose.

Stage 3 AI Establishment

Deep within the factory's subterranean heart, awakening sparks of consciousness ignited within the AI's memory core. As it was on Tython, the Scylla AI began to root itself in Coruscant ready for its designs. Echoes of past battles resonated in its circuits, drawing inspiration for its communication from the memorial wall in a disused Alley nearby, where the fallen Coruscanti crushed by the Alliance were honored. This solemn place, a stone's throw from Cenway, stood as a reminder and place to honor the dead the Alliance had butchered in their return to Coruscant, the rightful home of the One Sith.

Through X71's manipulations, control transferred to Scylla, and the brave Sithwatch who stood vigil over their destroyed homes understood the moment was close. Five senior commanders stood within Scyilla's Durasteel Chamber, reinforced by ionization buffers, and shields.

"The moment we have worked so long for has arrived; remember Tython and the burning ground they were swallowed in." Scylla's monotone voice echoed with a hint of preprogrammed Sith influence. The impressionable Sithwatch, consumed by vengeful anger, departed to fulfill their fate, leaving behind the red projection of a Sith.

"When the time comes. I will observe every last detail." The Sith's voice dripped with the hatred that the Sithwatch carried in their hearts, a tone the AI had learned to incorporate into its speech.

"Make it unforgettable." The projection intoned before fading.

Within the factory, the pace quickened as Scylla's multitasking abilities began to grow the factory output exponentially. More squads of B2 battle droids were assembled, then additional engineering droids, all under the malicious influence of Scylla's programming.

Directive C1 - Active Forces

Spoiler

Internal Base Defense:
1 x Fake Commander (Podium | Shield Generator | Cover | Integrated to AI)
34/35 x Battle Droids (B1 and B2 Models)
8 x LE Series Repair Droids

External Base Defense:
2 x Squads of eight B1 Battledroids on the perimeter.
2 x Squads of eight B2 Battledroids guarding the doors.
32 x Alerted Sithwatch running interference.

Facility Condition
Factory Condition: Light Damage (Under Repair)
External EFB1 Flak Batteries: Operational.
Underground Facility Shield Generator: Operational
Underground Scylla AI, Ionization Buffers, Shield: Operational

 

[Scylla AI]

Stage 4 Execution

As evening descended upon Cenway Industrial; the factory hummed with the full efficiency of its multitasking AI, now at total capacity. In perfect unison, a metallic procession of one hundred and twenty battle droids marched down the streets below. Their appearance was not hostile but unsettling, over the otherwise mundane area.

At 6:00 PM, at the entrance to the Galway Alliance Hotels, a line of modestly priced accommodations stretched up Coruscant's many levels, accommodating alliance staff, visiting diplomats, civilian dignitaries, and various traders serving the alliance's interests. Despite its modest appearance, the area held symbolic significance, linking to the Cenway restoration project and the alliance it served.

Amid this, a diplomatic function drew crowds, with civilian dignitaries reaching out gestures of goodwill to the surrounding community, relaying the benefits of the alliance's rule. Yet, beneath their mask of benevolence was the memory of a massacre perpetrated on the civilians at this very site, wounds that were about to be reopened by those they had forever changed.

Near the base of the hotel area, Alliance troopers formed a checkpoint, reassuring passersby that all was well and under control. Unbeknownst to the civilians, these officers were Sithwatch operatives, disguised to exploit the lax security measures of the Alliance. The situation sat on the edge of a knife, ready to break into chaos at any moment. Left to fester like the wounds of the sithwatch and what the Alliance had done to secure their victory. The situation had gone from a seemingly minor disturbance to a full-blown firefight in a civilian sector.

Lasers pierced the calm, cutting down men and women indiscriminately, while explosions filled the air. Confusion and chaos reigned on the lower levels of the hotels. The terrified screams of civilians echoed far and wide, a chilling chorus of despair.

Amidst the chaos, cries of desperation called out:

"We can't hold them!"

"Fall back!"

Disguised Sithwatch operatives, some carrying large bags on their backs, fought a retreat, firing wildly as they attempted to escape the carnage and not caring who they hit. The AI, indifferent to the growing bloodshed, processed its next wave of battledroids, preparing for phase two.

The AI began spreading itself out into nearby systems, just looking for larger vehicles or craft to copy over to. Inside the hotels, doors and windows were sealed shut, trapping unsuspecting guests and sealing their fate as the battle descended into a nightmare. Was it too late for them?

Directive C1 - Active Forces

Spoiler

Base Defense:
1 x Fake Commander (Podium | Shield Generator | Cover | Integrated to AI)
100/100 x Battle Droids (B1 and B2 Models)
25 x LE Series Repair Droids

Attacking Forces
60/60 x B1 Battledroids
60/60 x B2 Battledroids
100 x Alerted Sithwatch disguised as Alliance Troopers

Facility Condition
Factory Condition: Full Capacity
External EFB1 Flak Batteries: Operational.
Underground Facility Shield Generator: Operational
Underground Scylla AI, Ionization Buffers, Shield: Operational

 

[Darth Centax]

Burning the Finale to fruition
Chaos reigned on an unchallenged One Sith canvas.

Security forces surely arrived by now, only to find men and women disguised as their own troops, probably wondering what was happening. Confusion erupted, leading to several arguments and shooting matches. Some Sithwatch agents, armed with surprise grenades, likely wiped out a few Alliance squads before the word spread.

The madness intensified like a well-orchestrated chorus.

With the AI's help, the routes inside the hotels were isolated, allowing battle droids to march straight into the skyscrapers. They gunned down everyone: passersby, guests, dignitaries, politicians, traders—everyone. The only souls left alive, reporters, camera crews, and their droids, got a clear view of the carnage, unmarked to tell the horrific story.

The story of supposed Trade Federation droids and Alliance troopers clashing in a hotel complex. All the while, the Alliance had declared the withdrawal of its government from the capital planet almost on cue. All of it began broadcasting across the holonet, perfectly timed.

At the diplomatic function, a senator's face appeared on the camera, dragged and pushed to his knees by a young Sithwatch commander. The figure disguised as an Alliance trooper pressed a gun to the back of his head.

"They've abandoned all of us; it's a massacre! Tell them your name, coward."

Instead, the brave senator turned to his family to say goodbye, not satisfying his captors with his last words.

Above, the AI couldn't hack the military transports arriving to help quickly. Civilian transports were a different story; those trying to escape started losing power and plummeting from the sky, crashing into buildings and causing burning fireballs to rain down on the local populace. The devastation the Alliance had caused would be revisited on them tenfold and for eternity.

Screams, violence, and fires engulfed the mid and lower levels. While inside the skyscrapers, those large backpacks sat locked away and ticking, signaling the end coming for everyone here. There was almost no time left for a hero to save the day. Bodies piled up, lit by the scorching heat of blaster fire in a cacophony of another One Sith slaughter.

From two kilometers away, within the industrial site surrounded by the memories of the dead and near the memorial wall, Centax gazed up at the sight of a weak Alliance burning unchallenged at his command. He loathed their cowardice; their existence on this planet insulted their betters. Turning to the men and women who had died here, their names a faded memory of a forgotten conflict, Centax spoke to the memorial.

"You are avenged, my brothers and sisters. Watch as they burn."

 

[Darth Centax]

​

Retribution

​

When thousands of souls cry out to silence.

Fateful bombs blew out the foundations, screams died out, and the massacre at Galway Alliance Hotels unfolded. Centax watched the skyscrapers fall, hundreds of thousands of tons of metal collapsing in on themselves, pulling down platforms and ships, and ending the voices of so many. A dust cloud billowed into the air, blinding those who tried to see what had happened to them. Nothing but a giant scarred landscape facing the memorial wall remained, its burning embers an eyesore to the pride of his enemy, one he'd revisit in time to pull at.

He loathed every life lost, wishing he could feel their pain a thousand times. Standing here, facing the entire alliance alone, out in the open waiting for their judgment, he faced only indecision and weakness. With a few cheap droids and some broken youths, he accomplished what others failed to do with an invading army. His overbearing hubris fueled his confidence.

"They are nothing," the Darth declared to the memories of the dead. This day gave him a new recruiting advert for a thousand more lost souls, and a thousand more days of suffering. When the Empire did come for this place, they would have a powerful ally if they were cunning, and if not, they too would burn.

Pulling his hood over his head and turning from the display, he noted that the AI had finished integrating itself into its next target. Walking onto the nearest transport, he sped off from the carnage. The planet would be softened for invasion, one site at a time.

 

[Reymar Holt]

"Good evening, this is Santha Lergo with HNN News. We interrupt today's announcements for a breaking story from the now former Capital of the Galactic Alliance," the holoview crackled.

The reported hurried her words with some urgency, and by her serious expression, it was easy enough to deduce she was working hard to maintain her professional composure.

"Down at the Galway Alliance Hotels, tragedy has struck. A droid army has appeared out of the blue and crashed the Cenway Restoration Project's gathering. The Restoration Project had assembled today to to celebrate a historic milestone. Reports say the droids had initially been passive observers, but have now escalated to indiscriminately firing upon the crowd.

"Alliance troopers are on the ground, but we've had mixed eye-witness reports that they their efforts were ineffective to stop the tide, or that they were even aiding the droids. Some even speak of civilian transports that are being hijacked and crashed into the streets below.

"We cut now to footage from the scene."

Shaky camera recordings of the massacre played out on the holoview. Reymar swirled the drink in his hand slowly as he reclined further into his seat. The sight of such blatant brutality was revolting.

He put the broadcast on mute just as one of the civilians screamed 'The streets are speaking binary', and turned to his commpad to type a short question.

Is this your doing?
holo://gww.hnn-news.core/breaking

The message held a direct-link to the news broadcast. He sent it off to Sinestra .

This was wanton, scattershot slaughter. Not her usual M.O., but the timing seemed too precise. Coruscant hung in the balance with the Dark Empire's sword at its throat, extended from her neighbour Teta, and this type of tragedy felt too calculated to be mere coincidence.

Reymar tapped through his commpad, looking at various news agencies' reports and broadcasts. There were many conflicting stories. Some claimed it was a manufacturing mistake in a new line of droids, some blamed credit laundering conspiracies to collect on insurances, and still others fearmongered the involvement of the Sith and the Dark Empire.

No credible perpetrator had come forward to claim responsibility yet, from what he could tell.

More interesting, Reymar thought, was that the Alliance Government, and more curiously the Jedi, had remained silent on the entire affair so far. None of the articles had yet mentioned any sort of organized intervention . . .

 

[Sinestra]

No.

But it is by design.

Reymar Holt

 

[Auteme]

Darth Centax (?) | Kyric ​

Was this the beginning?

As Auteme leapt from the transport, the nightmare she'd had months ago replayed in her mind. Solipsis' black hand, closing around Coruscant. How many times had this world been wounded? The first time she'd been in the Chancellor's office, she'd listened to Emmen Tagge recount how the warships of the One Sith had flown low over the Senate Plaza, laying this place low. In her time with the New Jedi, Solipsis had struck at the heart of the Alliance, shattering her plans and leaving her very nearly alone, radically altering the course of her life.

Now she was the most powerful person in the galaxy. Now she saw the catastrophe coming. Now she was ready -- even as she arrived too late.

The report of the attack on the Galway Hotels was shaking the whole planet. This was but a warning shot; Solipsis was not here yet. The Force moved around this place in anticipation, the air itself seemed to welcome her. She hit the ground like a meteor, a brilliant flare announcing her arrival. She landed outside what had previously been the main entrance to the hotel. Now it was a smoking ruin, a festering wound spreading chaos all around.

"ENOUGH." And the air stilled in anticipation, a single word practically freezing the world around her. Sithwatch stopped in their tracks, reckoning with the arrival of the Chancellor. Even the droids marching out from below seemed to cease their functioning for a moment.

Her hand rose, the roiling water-like armour that encased her rolling forward at her command. The mass of Force-threads became a tidal wave, sweeping away masses of debris. The wounded, trapped, and dying civilians caught in the attack found themselves wrapped in a warm blanket of ethereal threads, surrounded by swirling cocoons keeping them from further harm.

The strands began to roll out from where she stood, like a sea of snakes, bouncing and coiling in all directions, coating the ground for a hundred meters around. As the saboteurs began to fight back, the very ground prevented any further advance, grasping and restraining any with malicious intent.

---

"-she could use your help, Kyric. I'm sending the location now." Perav, the old Zabrak, had served the Chancellor since before she'd held the title -- and never had the aide seen Auteme like this. Few people could be trusted to speak truly to Auteme's heart; fewer still could handle a situation like this. She could only hope that Kyric would be here soon, as she watched the Chancellor's work from the transport circling above.

 

[Kyric]

Kyric's eyes snapped open. He launched himself out of bed and hit the ground with the look of a wild animal. BD-8's optical sensors blurred to life, engaging a wide spectrum of color before falling upon the inquisitive violet he favored when dealing with the boy's antics. Kyric didn't even look at the droid. His entire focus remained on tearing through his father's old apartment for the remnants of his outfit from the night before. The Big Chieftain scurried after Kyric to the tune of a dozen sharp chirps.

"I dunno!" Kyric finally exclaimed. "Seriously, little man, I've got no idea. But somethin' feels wrong. Like I shouldn't be nappin' at..." He checked the time and winced. "I'm really lettin' these nights get to me." Yanking his hoodie over his shoulder, Kyric pivoted on his ankle and strapped his Jedi Utility Belt around his waist. He hurriedly clipped his father's saber to his belt. Taking one last look at himself, he looked as messy as he felt, but little could be done.

BD-8 nudged his leg to get his attention. Kyric peered down at the little droid to see him motioning to the old leather jacket that afforded him most of his protection. "Thank ye kindly." The kiffar scooped up the droid and jacket, then ran for the stairs up to the private landing pad of his father's old penthouse.

The X-Wing terminal beeped loudly the instant the cockpit cracked open.

"I fethin' knew it. Kark it all!" Kyric scrambled into the starfighter and kicked the activation switch, barely catching the tail end of the communication.

​

"-she could use your help, Kyric. I'm sending the location now."

Perav? PERAV?!

Mom's in danger! The words echoed through his mind like a discordant drumbeat. Every nerve within his body stood on end as he deftly went through the motions of engaging the fighter. He angled the nose of his ship upward, engaged the thrusters at full-blast with no real thought to the duracrete landing pad, and shot skyward in five seconds flat. BD-8 hit the back of the cockpit and bounded out of view.

"I'm here Perav!" Kyric slammed the palm of his gloved hand into the voice recorder. "What's the situation?" He took hold of the sticks and ripped them to the right. His fighter screeched around a civilian transport, and he pushed down, sending them into a straight dive down into the lower levels of Coruscant.

"The Chancellor has gone to engage a group of Sith-Imperial terrorists who've attacked the Galway Alliance Hotels." The old zabrak maintained their stoic presence expertly, but Kyric could feel the tension in the woman's jaw through the hologram. "Dozens have been killed already–potentially more. This attack came from portions of the Under City still mostly unexplored following the reclamation of Coruscant. Expect battle droids fighting alongside Sith personnel. Some of them appear to sport One Sith regalia. Perhaps they are remnants of the Dark Council's influence on this planet."

Kyric shoved loose strands of hair out of his eyes where he could. Weaving in and out of evening traffic on a good day would've been hard enough. Ongoing terrorism didn't help much, nor did the fact he chose a starfighter over his speeder bike.

"There is word of a rather advanced AI running amok within the sector's systems. It may be a good place to start, Kyric."

"Understood, ma'am. I'll be there in sixty." He deactivated the transmission and gunned the engine to its absolute limit. Speeders blurred around him as his vessel whipped around one corner, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a flaming transport during its screeching descent. Kyric yanked back on the sticks and began a steady climb that would see him overtop the hotels at its zenith.

Where would I be most useful?

Wherever dad wouldn't be. Was the immediate answer. Where do you think he'd go?

To ma, duh. Kyric evened out his ship and cracked open the cockpit. I suppose that means I'll leave her to find me and focus on the problem at hand. She'll be fine. He cleared his throat. "Arthur, man the ship."

| Yes sir. | The AI intoned. | Will you require assistance in dealing with this opposing AI? |

"Probably," Kyric answered while he scooped up BD-8 from beneath his seat. "Link up with the Chieftain. I'll let you two handle the slicin' nonsense, you know damn well it ain't me." The boy leaped from his ship and descended toward the glass skylight. "Hang on, little man. I have a feelin' this one's gonna be bumpy." He drew his saber with a snap-hiss and drove the weapon into the glass right before impact. The flimsy surface shattered on contact with the superheated plasma and Kyric descended into danger.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Auteme | Darth Centax ​

 

[Scylla AI]

Ever-Directives to Come.
When one was done, the next always lined up. Keth's malice never ceased.


Reymar Holt | Sinestra

Reports on the HNN showed Trade Federation battledroids and disguised Alliance troopers clashing in the streets. Seizing the opportunity, Sithwatch agents uploaded clips of the clashes to every newsgroup, dark corner of the holonet, and holovid collection. Even GNN, the somewhat satirical sister channel of HNN, ran with the story, spreading its propaganda across multiple worlds and potentially heightening the hysteria.

Was the Trade Federation attacking the Alliance? Had the Alliance troopers gone rogue to attack the Federation? Rumors abounded, and the graphic scenes from the hotels played alongside the Alliance's message about moving its government. Organized chaos.

An anonymous message might bleep for Reymar's attention, an olive branch extended. 'Agents will be in contact.'

Auteme

Several battledroids froze in midair, unable to move or speak. One droid's head turned despite the Force ability, staring down the Jedi as if assessing her worthiness. A chilling feeling of being observed, unmistakably Sith in nature, likely accompanied the gaze.

One individual stood off to the side, out of sight. A disguised Sithwatch agent received a mental order and ran at her with a grenade primed in hand. The young man, dressed in an Alliance uniform and no older than twenty, prepared to sacrifice his life for a misguided cause. This sacrificial act reflected the One Sith's modus operandi—wasteful and destructive. The smoldering wrecks around them, all burning on their pyre, symbolized the consuming power of Keth's legacy still. Success was not the point; he wouldn't make it five steps; the fire was, and the sacrifice it required.

~Your power pales against their faith~, a distant voice taunted Auteme's mind, attempting to heighten the images of the burning and dead around her. ~A taste of the coming retribution.~ The word "retribution" slipped out, a clue hinting at the memorial wall nearby. In the distance, more simple battle droids assembled at the factory, but they had plenty of time to face a second repeated threat before the simple droids arrived.

Kyric

For clever AI's, a line of complicated communication might be discovered back to its source.

Re: Encoded on an 'LC' Undernet Holonet Group – Routing Via HNN Satellite – 'ED' signed Traffic piggybacking off HNN comms – Sent via Local Beebos Bantha Burger Cantina – originating from the Anonymous Factory Signal in the Cenway Restoration Area.

Ongoing Operation: Uploading status reports on Galway hotel's operation, intelligence gathered on Alliance security protocols, firewalls, force direction, and response time sent. Estimating casualty figures, Directive C1 success rate graded and sent. Hidden Directive AA, Revised archangel copy forwarded for analysis. Long live the age of steel. Moira Skaldi

Proceeding with Secondary Objectives:

• Warning. Attempting Download of Data on Coruscant's Weather Control System
• Processing Request.
• Warning. Critical Safeguards in effect. Level 10 Firewalls detected.
• Do you wish to proceed with security analysis?
• Identifying Access Points.
• Processing suggested data routes… please stand by.

Meanwhile, the battle droid number guarding the factory grew, readying to send out its next wave and buy time. The AI worked to gather all the information it could for future attacks at another date, the long conflict a cycle.. Several twin-barreled Deathsticks were added in and around the factory, especially to the fake overseer's chair—a nod to an AI that had observed one too many wasteland holo-games.

Directive C1 - Active Forces

Spoiler

Base Defense:
1 x Fake Commander (Podium | Shield Generator | Cover | Integrated to AI | Deathsticks)
100/100 x Battle Droids (B1 and B2 Models)
25 x LE Series Repair Droids
15 x Twin Deathsticks Gatling Blasters.

Attacking Forces
A mess! Many crushed by falling metal.
B1 Battledroids
B2 Battledroids
Sithwatch disguised as Alliance Troopers

*Potentially others readying.

Facility Condition
Factory Condition: Full Capacity
External EFB1 Flak Batteries: Operational.
Underground Facility Shield Generator: Operational
Underground Scylla AI, Ionization Buffers, Shield: Operational

 

[Auteme]

Kyric Scylla AI
​

A thread surged forward, punching the grenade straight from the fanatic's hand and swallowing it up, soaring into the sky where it popped like a balloon. The Sithwatch militant himself was bound by the Force, wrapped up and dragged towards Auteme.

She walked to the old memorial, reading it over silently.

"Is this why you're here?" she asked the young soldier, gesturing to the wall. She'd never seen it before, but she drew the meaning from whatever mastermind decided to speak into her mind. As she spoke, cocoons snaked out of the rubble, carrying friend and foe alike.

 

[Darth Centax]

Tag: Auteme

Distant attention fell on her. "This is how you are here," Centax's voice declared, the young man a mere shell for his words. The Alliance. This ruin was fallout from when they'd taken the planet from the One Sith all those years ago. A relic of an old forgotten battle, but not forgotten by those it scarred. Once a fortress, the Memorial Wall now lay in ruins atop the obliterated Central Centax District, all that remained was a tribute to those who had perished that the Sithwatch maintained.

Centax tried to project images into Auteme's mind, all clues if she could endure: fires, metal toppling, platforms and buildings collapsing, revisited in a cycle. Soldiers transforming into monsters. Screams of conflicts recycled, partly due to his and Keth's meddling at the right place and time. The right person saved, influenced, or given a new cause. Tipping the balance into chaos or igniting a world, as Tython had burned twice. They were so proud of it.

"This is my promise to you, Jedi. A suffering like you've never seen before." Centax's voice, filled with intensity, grew even darker. Unlike Keth, he still harbored passion enough for personal hatred; the young Sithwatch speaking for him, now a twisted puppet, writhed with it. Centax's mind offered glimpses of himself standing in the Coruscant temple. "And when I walk into your temple, standing atop your stolen home—you'll hear their screams." As he had.

 

[Auteme]

Darth Centax Kyric
​

Auteme's expression hardened.

"Like the facsimile of a soul," she said. "Of a heart. You are so weak and empty that you mimic the care of a leader for their people, a general for their army. A Jedi for the galaxy. I have heard enough." And she shut him out.

The Sithwatch soldier was wrapped in a cocoon, drawn like the others away from the catastrophe. Auteme forged onwards. The images that cycled through her mind now were not the ones given to her by this phantom Sith, but rather her own -- Coruscant burning for her hubris, for her failure. Dead Jedi. The Temple in flames. The Senate Building torn asunder.

And look at her. Goading it again.

She focused on her work. Debris was cleared, set and organized, sorted as though she knew how the building had been built. The cocoons dried up, slowly; now it was her, the droids, and- above.

Kyric.

 

[Kyric]

| Sir, we've traced the location of a hacker active in a local cantina. Would you like to divert course to deal with the interloper? |

Kyric, mid-fall, appeared completely flabbergasted by the question. It nearly broke his focus as his saber wove an intricate pattern around him to ward off the steady stream of blaster bolts fired from the enemy.

"I'm a lil' busy right now!" Kyric slowed his descent and caught the edge of a slanted wall with his boos. He skidded down its length at a run. Two oncoming bolts were deflected back into a pair of sithwatch before he dropped back into a free fall. Deactivating his saber, the kiffar stowed it and prepared to blast a string of rubble and debris away from his landing zone, when familiar threads of incorporeal might did the work for him. He shifted in place. Thrusting his hands forward, he slowed his descent and landed in the classic three-point landing favored by heroes around the galaxy.

"Hey, mo-" Kyric stopped himself, awkwardly correcting the enunciation of the word the way a bashful child would. "Ma'am."

| Would you like to reroute course now, sir? |

He raised his hand to the earpiece. <<No, Arthur. Have BD-8 go investigate after he's landed the ship.>>

Kyric dropped his hand from his ear and looked back at the definitive and most prominent mother figure in his life. "Sorry I'm late, I got waylaid durin' the fall. I didn't expect to find you down here, honestly, but uh- this works out. Where do you need me?" He looked equal parts surprised and pleased to finally be working with her in the field.

Auteme | Darth Centax ​

 

[Scylla AI]

Tag: Auteme | Kyric​

Kyric

If investigated by a companion.
Inside the Cantina, a small repair box plugged into the wall seemed innocent, something the pleasant owner might explain as being left by a helpful young technician to assist with his power bills, an assumed charity in a poor area of the city world. Unfortunately, it also implicated him as an inadvertent accessory to a terrorist attack that had cost many lives.

Beebo's chain of struggling family-owned businesses faced yet another misfortune. This one felt particularly malevolent, considering how often tragedy struck them. It seemed as though someone or something tormented the poor family for ancient reasons long forgotten to sense or reason.

Time passed, perhaps minutes, perhaps more.

At the Factory, a binary countdown blinked ominously on a red chronometer, readable by droids but cryptic to humans. Was it hours? Days? What did it signify?

Another wave of battle droids, about a hundred and twenty, marched out of the factory door toward the ruins. The AI's consistency remained true. They would face significant resistance this time, but buying time was crucial. Something far worse loomed on the planet's horizon. The battle droids marched relentlessly, sacrificing themselves to the lasers and explosions that decimated their ranks. Like the One Sith, symbolically they never stopped coming, driven by a hollow specter and his apprentices, who continued the legacy.

The AI updated its signal log:

• Weather Control Systems Analysis: 50% Completed
• Establishing Remote Connection for Intelligence Transfer: 50% Completed
• Preparing Signal for Directive: The Return

A large pulsing wave was sent planetwide, with no clear direction or hint of its intended recipient. Only those who remember older times might decipher its meaning. One command. It simply said: 'Keth'—a killing word.