Private Sometimes Things Happen

[Onith]

Two shadows stepped down the dim alleyway; a distant sun setting in the late evening. One shuffling with quiet squeaks and shuddering motion, the other moving through the darkness with feline grace. Quite words were exchanged in a language unknown to the few strangers resting nearby, tone the only indication of a heated discussion.

~Master, I do believe this is a less than reputable area~ The mechanical voice sounded like the very embodiment of worry.

A ragged intonation, worn by many days of restless travel, responded with faintly veiled frustration, ~Indeed? What of it? Money is money. You said we need it, so we're getting it.~

~While that is correct, I had not intended this sort of... employment,~ With only a momentary pause, searching for the desired word in a dialect that by all rights should not exist, the worried vocalization replied.

A brief pause in the conversation, as first the lithe shadow and then the lumbering form stepped over some obstruction in their path. Whether the hindrance was a sleeping being or a pile of refuse was beyond the two individuals' concern or ability to determine in the growing night. After putting some further distance from the thing they left behind, the second voice spoke again, a commanding tone denoting the finality of its statement.

~I will not be questioned by one whose suggestion I am following! If we were to follow your advice to the letter, we would still be on that trash barge.~

The waddling form stopped for a moment, falling behind as the shadow continued on towards the low glow of an orange neon light. At length the straggler walked on, an almost dejected reply emanating from it, ~Of course master, I will try not to bother you with such concerns in the future.~

As the first shadow coalesced into the light, its physical form took shape, a large figure in tattered armour. Its face, a grim feature careworn and hardened by a life of unending labour, resolved itself for but a moment, glancing into the lighted area. Turning back to look to its companion, the face fell into shadow once more, except for two eyes burning scarlet in the deepening gloom. The sound that came from it was not like the language it had spoken, but rather sounded more like a guttural acknowledgement from some bygone era. With a silent gesture, it flowed to the unobtrusive entryway that lay washed in the light. The second being came into view, its skin reflecting the light in a dull display of old metal and frayed wiring. The portal opened with a tired click, and yellow light cast new shadows in all directions. Together the two disappeared through the sliding door, leaving the alleyway much as it had been moments ago, a bare and lifeless place.

Inside, the aged lights, once white but now yellow with grime and time, glowed brightly compared to the dusk they had left behind. Photoreceptors adjusted with a barely audible whirr and organic eyes contracted in response as the duo looked at their unfamiliar surroundings. The hall before them was a bare thing, tiles cracked and dusty, walls metallic sheen barely shining through the mold and peeling paints. Ahead but a few paces, standing with a ledger in hand, a man stood with the twitching eyes of a spice addict too long since their last hit.

The droid started towards the man first, its compatriot seeming taken aback. The scarlet-skinned being followed, speaking softly, ~You are right though... This is sketchy.~

The eyes of the robot seemed to almost blaze with joy at this vindication of its reservations. Yet, it walked on without acknowledgement and its master's swift strides swallowed the distance in moments. The human or some near derivative from the look of it, pallid skin creasing on its face as his haggard eyes seemed to register the arrival of two people only moments after they had stood before him, licked his cracked lips twice before speaking in a hopeful voice.

"A-are you here for the job?"

The blood-skinned lady glanced to her droid as its vocabulator translated; her voice followed swiftly as her stolid gaze fell onto the creature before her. Once more the robot translated, speaking galactic basic, "My master asks if the pay is as promised?"

The short being grinned mischievously, his voice taking a fawning tone in response as he eyed the intimidating creature before him, "Of course! One such as yourself will make many, many credits."

The voice of the artificial being filled the air with more translation and there was a brief conversation held by the two travellers before the robot turned to the man stating, "Then my master is here for your job."

The man loosed a squeal of excitement, clapping his knobbly hands together before taking a more serious demeanour as the ruddy and worn being raised an eyebrow incredulously. "This way, this way! It will begin soon, and you need to be ready. Take the first right and get changed; you're on in ten minutes." He pulled aside the doorway, which once had slid of its power but now was manhandled with great difficulty. Struggling against the obstinate structure, the man looks pleadingly to the two standing there. No indication of assistance comes from those two, the droid pitching to speak to its master and the other smiling with predatory glee at the little man's struggle.

Moments pass as the two proceed past the exhausted addict and to the designated room. The lights here are strong and clean, casting pale light into worn halls and rooms. Alone in a damp, apartment, the stranger pivots on her heel, feeling the crusty tile give way as her voice resonates in the tight room, ~Perhaps this is a little too much... But you know why I am here, why we must continue.~ Her gaze catches the droid's, and before it can respond, she continues in a monotone drone, ~I've come this far. You are to be commended for staying beside me all this time. Perhaps when the old age has returned, you will find use in our overseer corp.~

The old droid's head nodded slowly, his faceplate smeared with oil and particulates. ~Of course, Master.~ With a touch of relief it shifted the subject, ~You should prepare. There appears to be a functional refresher attached to the wall.~

With a bemused smirk, the alien quipped, ~Functional perhaps; clean, definitely not.~ Nonetheless she slipped behind the yellowed plasteel screen separating the grungy room from the mildly less mucky refresher as she queried, ~What do you think this job will be? I don't think I've ever seen such a jumpy person in charge of anything.~

The droid responded idly, as its processors plodded along with the conversation while simultaneously tracking the steady progress of time towards their ten-minute deadline, ~I do not know. Likely something illegal again, but perhaps not related to sentient trafficking this time...~

~We can hope; so ridiculous the prices some will pay for only adequate slave labour. The Builders would never have condoned such behaviour.~

~Of course master.~

And so their conversation continued, occasionally falling silent in brooding thought, until at last, the master stepped from the refreshed in a new garb, rather looking less like a homeless being than before. An abrupt knock ended their time, and the door opened without a moment to waste as a Quarren in simple garb stepped in. His tentacles danced in disgust at the sight before him as he berated the two, "Ugh, it will have to do. You, no time to mess about. You're on. Droid, you stay there. Audience is a bit too touchy as it is, without droids walking around." The duo didn't move, and the Quarren grew agitated, "Come on, or I'll throw you out now!"

For a moment it seemed that the red-skinned sentient would lunge at the angered businessman, but instead, she merely stood and followed meekly as he paced from the room. With a final wave to the droid, the departing form swept down yet more halls, the scar on her face itching. With none to speak to in her tongue, she remained silent, even as others moved about her. As even she began to grow weary of the incessant walking, the Quarren motioned to a large double-door and tapped on a datapad he procured from a purple-skinned person standing nearby. He spoke angrily at the scarlet stranger and pointed again while grumbling some incoherent threat. She remained rooted for a moment, suddenly feeling the weight of uncertainty before stepping through the doors, which opened with silent efficiency as she passed.

The room beyond was unlike any other she had seen before. Dark, but filled with dazzlingly bright lights that flared and flashed. A massive caged space dominated the centre of the area. Around this central point was a sea of people, such a variety of races were exampled in this room that she had not seen since before her jump. The sounds of wild music and the throng's chants, screams, and shouts filled the air with a deafening cacophony that drowned out all thought but her desire to quiet it. She felt a firm prod in the back and realized that a dark silhouette of a person had stepped behind her. Seeing that the pathway before her was lit by a collection of small lights, the rather disoriented traveller walked along this path, her measured grace from before faltering within this utterly alien environment. The person behind touched her ear, almost snapping back in surprise; the small device it had placed began to buzz, and she heard a voice speaking with a rather greedy undertone. The words it spoke were as meaningless as that of the crowd so she soon tuned it out continuing up to a gate in the cage. A being with too many heads pulled open the metal gate with a loud creaking sound; the sounds of people began to rise in anticipation.

Understanding at least this, Onith stepped into the cage, her shod feet making contact with a hard durasteel floor as great floodlight focused their blinding beams on the arena. Across from her, she saw a shaking mass of fur and muscle, a Wookiee chuffing to itself as it walked forward towards the centre of the floor. Stopping short of the dot in the middle, it pointed to a spot directly opposite and Onith had a dread realization.

Domina Prime

 

[Domina Prime]

Onith
​

Known Space, Nar Shadda


At times, it would be effortless to believe that Nar Shadda was not a city world within a system, but rather that they were all living within the decomposing innards of a bloated, fly-infested corpse; the dreariness of the world overwhelming, pouring like inky nightfall from the towertops to drench the underground below. Vultures came to roost where the scent of death and despair was strongest; And what spelled despair like a man in crippling debt and a of enemies, a child hooked on spice or a gangster with all barrels aimed at him.

This place was lot rot, and of all the city-worlds the xeno hated, Nar Shadda was probably at the top of her list.

And yet she always had to keep coming back here, she kept having to return to the city of rot just to mingle with dishonorable, spineless rats all scurrying about begging for scraps.

And as her multiple eyes stared down at a poor, crawling human Dima could not help but inhale the air, scenting the dread and misery from the man as he crawled across the floor with his legs mangled and hanging off bits of flesh and nerves, bleeding rather rapidly and grunting while blood stained across the ground in a trail.

"Where is your Bossman little mouse? Tell Dima and she will consider not cutting anything else off you~" She growled as the man crawled through the allyway shivering and sobbing. The display making the xeno almost sick as she rolled all five of her eyes in visible frustration. "You are beginning to annoy Dima little mouse, your bossman has been ignoring Dimas calls and Dima has still not received her trophy from her victory! Your bossman shames Dima before the allfathers this one can not let it stand!" She snarled angrily as her tail rattled viciously behind the Mandalorian.

The Beast had felled so many opponents throughout her life that she was becoming restless for greater, more worthy prey, each experience of maiming insignificants began to blur together into a writhing pastiche of anonymous faces. She picked at the pieces of her subconscious held dangling, mulled over the memory of biting into someone's throat; the gush of blood painting the inside of her mouth. Her first kill as a hatchling filled the mysterious lifeform with a calmness.

"C-coliseum! Big event! Please! No more!" The man whined, finally giving Dima what she wanted.

Dima scoffed, finally informed she turned her back on the crawling, mewling rodent of a creature and averted her path towards the fighting rings of the underground. "Dima is going to eat his heart for bringing such shame to Dimas hunt~" She hissed to herself, fury building in her core as the strange lifeform made her way through the crowd only to eventually reach her destination. Stomping through the bouncers and security and shoving aside any mouse who dared to block her path to the ring, Dimas eyes falling upon some wookie in the ring with another warrior and the crowd cheering and clamoring loudly. Dima however used those many eyes to search for the Chiss who owned the establishment and who had been skipping out on keeping his promises.

The Hunt was on~

​

 

[Onith]

It was but a passing instant, but one that struck deeply. The moment of recognition that suddenly reoriented the pureblood's expectations filled her with deep regret. Her mind raced as Onith hoped to avert the current course of destiny, as if some action now might change what was to be. Simultaneously, her soul seemed to drain of hope, some base part of her resigning to the flow of events as it was. That second of hesitation was enough, the voice screamed in her ear, the little bug-like device buzzing with the vibrations of sound. Under normal circumstances, Onith would have removed the piece of alien technology and shattered it for good measure, yet this was far removed from a normal situation.

The being shook her head in shock at the sudden onslaught of incomprehensible commands before taking hold of her mind and forcing herself to accept the moment as it was. Recalling the ancient rituals of her masters, Onith spoke softly the first words in their incantations of protection and battle as she took the short paces to the indicated location, knowing that she would need every ounce of that venerable power. ~Death kneels. War obeys. Victory is mine...~ She felt no change in her being, the all too familiar sensation of the Builders' gift still absent as the day she had awoke from the frost chamber.

During the best of times, it would have been a shame of unimaginable proportion, for one such as herself to fail so simple a task. Now though, in the midst of the galactic madness that surrounded her, it left only a gaping sense of abandonment on the part of her masters. She would later find the notion ridiculous, knowing full well that the ones she once owed her loyalty were past and gone, but in that present she found it a difficult load to handle.

Standing before her opponent, the once-warrior found herself unconsciously shaping up the hulking figure across. Once a dark chestnut, the fur shone silver in a brilliant display of great age, with deep stretches of scarred skin visible in patches over its body. Where once there must have been a rich flock of long fur on its head, now there was a choppily shorn remnant, revealing the plethora of grey micro-implants it had received. The areas of bare chocolate skin writhed with thick cords of muscle as the Wookiee flexed in anticipation. Its eyes showed no sign of the milky aging that many others of its kind suffered, the green iris clear and engaging. There was a brutishness to the body's form, nevertheless, the eyes suggested intelligence, one that had seen lives worth of fighting and had grown distant from any simple bloodlust it may have once possessed. Those eyes reminded Onith of Usk, the grizzled warrior and a fellow Hound.

She took a ready stance and the voice in her ear spat forth noise that seemed degrading in nature. Disregarding it, she waited for some unknown event that would kick off the inevitable.

------

BR-4 stood silently as the door slid shut ominously behind his master and the stranger. The room was left in a cold stillness when nought but the old droid remained within. Its electronic brain whirred away, inestimable levels of data plodding through neural pathways worn smooth with their repetitive contemplation. Thought could not describe its mind's function; a computer in the truest sense it was all but calculation. Mathematics that broke down every moment and experience, every little detail of reality, rendered in numerous binaric data, this was what filled its hollow, artificial shell.

Though no heart beat in its metal breast, or soul permeated its inner being, the robot reflected its maker's organic nature. Simple ones and zeroes formed to create a complex character that formed the basis of the robot's interaction with the physical realm. Worry, replicated in excruciating authenticity, burned through its circuits. A concern for the master's well-being, and by proxy its own, filled its every passing thought.

Directed not to leave and programmed to obey such directives, BR-4 nonetheless surprised itself with the strength of overriding faux emotions that coursed through its system. The translator unit realized that there was a pressing force within, some strange pressure building as two opposing directives vyed for supremacy. Relishing the thought, BR-4 realized that a newer model might crack under the programming nightmare unfolding within its circuits. In comparison, it felt a certainty wash in calm, synthetic waves over its worn frame; the competition between life and command concluded in the former's favour in nanoseconds. It was quite simple, so it reasoned, that the life of its master was of a higher priority than a verbal command from anybody.

Suddenly freed from the limitation of movement, BR-4's motivators sprung to life as its creaky body squeaked forward. The door slid open as the rusty droid left the chamber nary a minute after his master had vacated it. As it wandered down empty space, a new conundrum arose as the droid realized there was no simple method of locating its master. The somewhat cleaner halls appeared almost identical, and even with its logic centres working to track its own direction of movement, the droid accepted that it had little hope of finding its master alone.

An opportunity, unforeseen but welcome, arose in the form of a lean nautolan marching down the halls with a rather exasperated determination. The eyes of the being were ringed with puffed black skin, contrasting strongly with the yellow of the rest of his body. On his shirt, a small badge denoted him as a head of security, although what exactly he was supposed to keep secure seemed strangely unexplained. In one hand, the aquatic being held a holocomm and was clearly in the midst of a conversation of no small importance. The other hand gripped a datapad so tightly its knuckles were rendered an off-white colour.

The voice from the comm was distracted, yet quite commanding, "...care about who gets hurt. We can't have people breaking in on their own. Find out who it is and remove them. Tip them over the edge if you have to."

The nautolan gritted his teeth at the suggestion and responded with an irritated tone, "We'll bounce whoever it is, but it's taken out a few good guys already. I don't know what we can do without breaking up the show."

"I pay you to keep things under control! Get this under control or I will have you tipped. Got it?" The person grew furious and practically shouted.

"You got it boss." The guard surrendered any further concerns, and the comm stream cut abruptly off. With wearied steps, the being passed the droid towards a double doorway with a thickset aqualish standing beside it in brown livery, a similar badge on its shoulder.

BR-4, in a moment of quiet brilliance, stepped into a slow stride behind the nautolan as he worked towards the door. He motioned to the doorman and with a consigned shrug the two pushed open the doors. Beyond the darkness was lit with bright strobing lights and discordant music filled the air, barely heard over the cries of partygoers. A small party of organics pushed passed the guards, a small menagerie of different species evidenced in this eclectic group that moved with purpose towards some unknown goal. If the two organic beings noticed the droid following them, they showed no indication of it, disappearing suddenly into the crowd, walking towards some other entrance to this place of chaos.

Waddling into the room on screeching joints, the translator found its photorecptors not quite capable of keeping up with the wild range of lighting and darkness. Nonetheless, the room settled into some unnatural twilight with flaring lights becoming little more than dim beacons in a colourless world as its programming found this the most effective response. With slow sweeps, BR-4 turned its head in small arcs as it tried to locate its master. There were many strange beings here, though some stood out more obviously than others.

Its program recognized the shape in the arena in the middle of the room and with a start it tried to walk through the crush of organics to reach its master.

------

The blow seemed to appear out of thin air. Though Onith's eyes had caught the movement of posture and body language, her reflexes were too slow to react appropriately. The hard fist caught her in the right jaw, and she felt her neck snap to the side. Staggering, her mind cleared of all its thoughts and worries as a single mandate came to the fore. Kill.

Her eyes dilating despite the brightness, the sudden fighter felt her sense pushed beyond their normal limits. The movements in shadow beyond the cage exterior became as clear as silhouettes on a white backdrop. She tasted blood, feeling the bruise swelling already from the punch. The stench of sweat, alcohol, spice, vomit, and manner of vileness filled her nostrils as she breathed deeply. The sounds, deafening already, became more accentuated, voices becoming more distinct as her head stopped spinning. The little device in her ear buzzed with what sounded like an approving statement, but Onith disregarded it, focusing on her opponent.

For his part, the wookiee stayed still after that first punch, seeming to be waiting and watching. It seemed, for a moment at least, that surprise crossed his eyes. When it appeared that the smaller contestant was not retaliating immediately, the furry being stepped closer, fists clenched and raised.

Onith waited for the next attack, reading the beast's movement before it struck. With a deftness only found in a trained body, she sidestepped the swing and brought her own balled hand crashing into the wookiee's chin. There was an audible crack and the crowd gasped in delight as blood spurted from the fresh wound. Reeling, the larger opponent struggled to keep his arms up as Onith followed him. The pit fighter's eyes revealed the realization of a true fight ahead and Onith's face broke into a mirthless smile in response.

Domina Prime