The Droids that were busy outside slaughtering Sith and Sith Aligned Nationalists the way Hank Hill sells Propane and Propane Accessories.
It was some real Doomslayer Chit going on outside, one of the Mercenary B1 units fighting organics at close range with pilfered knives. The B1 Droids massed in organized infantry lines, some digging trenches to better resist on rushing attackers, some in the far, far, distance even persisting in fighting until the last moment where even
they had to run from the bombardment. And Nationalists were dying in droves. The Droids exhibited a practiced cruelty no normal B1 could have produced.
As soon as they spotted
Brec Abrak
,
dozens of carbines with laser sights fixed on him.
Many were painted that Khaki tan color so common to that type of Droid. This was for the purpose of Confusion: Most of the assailants initially had died thinking they were just bog standard B1's.
A few others however, displayed the black and blue colors of the House, others had dents and scratches, ribbons on their chassis, scraps of colorful fabrics wrapping arms. Tally Marks everywhere in some cases, like a certain C-List DC Villain.
It was these Units, Droid Veterans of House Io, that approached.
"Keep those arms up..." One of them instructed in a Fett Clone Voice as a Squad Surrounded him.
One of them reached out to pluck the encrypted NISB ID from his hand. No photo. Lucky Brec.
"What you think, Sargeant?" asked a Desert Camo colored one.
"I think there's no way to be certain if he's telling the truth..." The Droid Sergeant trailed, demonstrating human like reasonings. "You could be anybody."
"If it
is real, how good are the odds he either stole it or shot someone for it? Or both?" another mused openly as it pointed it's rifle at his head.
"Pretty darn good. Chaos of War, and all that..." The Sergeant noted. "But if we kill him and we're wrong, it lands our boss in hot water. Detain him. Let the Gladiatrix check him out..."
In the distance, the
Gladiatrix , an elite fragment of The Cult of The Brain Demon , shaped to resemble, a tall, muscular, and curvy female Twi'lek with green skin, wielding a long, double edge silver sword, clad in shimmering white, hoplite like armor with gold inlay, was busy savagely butchering even those who surrendered,
especially those who surrendered. Her flesh warped horrifyingly all over her body on occasion, as she fed on the agony she inflicted with her blade, hacking away at times long after the target was dead when she received the summons from the Droids under her command.
She withdrew, bounding over the battlefield, cutting savagely into enemies with unrestrained bloodlust, white, revealing armor splashed with blood and gore like the rest of her exposed skin as she got behind friendly lines to reach the squad that had detained Brec.
"And who is this one?" The Fragment asked, flesh on her face rippling unnaturally for a moment as she at last reached them.
"Claims to be NISB, Mistress." The Droid said.
"Does he now, and tell me, Mister NISB, what was your mission in this factory?" She asked pleasantly with a smile, though her physiology ruined the effect as it metabolized the Darkness of the World, flesh pulling away from her head on one side for a split second to reveal the slick looking, pearly white skull beneath before it snapped back into place.
"And I do hope you have a
really good answer..."
Meanwhile...
The Battalion's blade was the first thing the Nationalist Remnants assaulting the weapons factory saw as she appeared on the scene.
The red blade swayed in her hand as she strutted to them, smirking as all of them aimed their weapons at her.
Among these squads she noticed enemy Sith in the distance, using their lightsabers to try and cut through the doors.
The Battalion opened her mouth and purple flames erupted from her throat, becoming a wide swath that engulfed the first wave of shooters, causing them to collapse and writhe as the flames did not burn, but destroyed morale and sanity, her blade swatting aside more distant shooters as she used Force Flight to corkscrew through the air, blade spinning in her hands even faster than she did, making it a propeller as she dived through the ranks of the second wave of shooters, a lawnmower for people instead of grass, the Knowledge she had stolen from the skull of Syd Celsius hers to warp and twist to her will to kill as many as possible.
She landed in the middle of a hastily set up gun nest, her blade ripping into the ones manning it, then got on the machine gun herself, momentarily narrowing knowledge from one of her other forms to imperfectly wield it and gun down half a dozen before she was forced to fly upward to avoid the rocket attack that destroyed it soon after.
She dive bombed them again skewering two against her blade as she reached the surface, using them as a battering ram against the others, and then ripped them open once they had served their murderous purpose.
Soon, all ordinary resistance was dead or incapacitated, and The Battalion was free to focus on the two Sith about to cut through the door to the factory itself. They had taken full advantage of the Nationalist's distracting her, working to the last possible second before turning their attention to her.
She approached confidently in the Makashi Style, feeling the hatred well up again as she prepared to slake her bloodthirst on the only two Targets of any note as they themselves went into guard, feeling the rotting miasma she was in the Force...