Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Oh wow, torroar, you totally blew that setup.
Devastation Comes In Big Packages [Planetary Annihilation/Multicross SI]
Something he needs to pick up while visiting the Vong are Dovin Basils. Seriously, they can manipulate gravity to point they can create black holes.
If you can't think of ways to abuse "on demand" black holes then you need to hand in your SV card.
If you can't think of ways to abuse "on demand" black holes then you need to hand in your SV card.
LastStandZiggy
Last To Fall
- Location
- Kingman, Az
Speaking of droid rebellions, in the Expanded Verse (Or legends, or whatever Disney is calling it) didn't IG-88A take over the Death Star 2 by the time of the Battle for Endor and have plans for a massive droid rebellion?
41 – Fruitless
41 – Fruitless
The whole of his being trembled with fury. This on its own was not unusual were it not for the sheer levels of awful sludge-like hatred pouring through his being, enough to start crumpling the ship around him even as he walked forward. A thousand vicious acts slipped through his mind like razor shards – cutting at all rational thought save for one. One single train of thought that circled through his very being. A serpent, constricting his every movement and word, strangling him. His shattered body ached like it had but a day after he had awoken…after Mustafar.
'Alpha'.
A single word. A name.
A target.
He hated nothing more than that name.
Kenobi was dead by his hands. The Jedi Order was dead at his hands. His ruined attempts at an apprentice were all dead now. The only person who he perhaps hated nearly as much was the Emperor for daring to presume at keeping his children from him. Yet that was an old hatred, burnt low after so long. It would last forever, that smoldering desperate venom, but now there was something new in the galaxy.
A droid. A group or more? Allied with the Rebellion, or not?
No one knew.
No one knew anything.
The one who had produced droids of ridiculous strength and power on Hoth, who had stolen the Executor and the whole of Death Squadron, and ships of various types well on its way to a total of two hundred. Who had stolen almost every Super Star Destroyer in the Empire's employ save for the Guardian in the Coruscant sector and Jerec's flagship!
Who was personally responsible for the death of the entire 501st Legion, his last true companions from the Clone Wars! Spaced so disgustingly ignobly out of his flagship, without the chance to die in battle. The rest had collapsed on Hoth during the two supply-less months he had spent there, dying in starvation and agony!
Yet! No one knew! Anything!
Isard gave nothing but excuses, yet out of all of it there was some small satisfaction to see that smug woman return from her personal audience with the Emperor so badly shaken. He did not know what his Master had said or done to her but ever since then she had become far more efficient in her duties, her little ambitious projects at gaining power over her political opponents disappearing. The Emperor may have found the intrigues of the Imperial Court amusing for a time but when the whole of the only group capable of bringing true order to the galaxy was under such tremendous assault his amusement dried up quickly.
When he had been ordered by his Master to interrogate the Bothans as to the identity of this 'Alpha', they had possessed nothing than anyone else in the galaxy did. Their agents were meant to have been spread across the galaxy, across worlds and species…and they had nothing. Save for the fact that Alpha and his organization were not explicitly allied with the Rebellion. Oh, the sources they'd had amongst the Rebels used to be far more prevalent and plenty more besides still remained…but none near the top as they had used to have.
For his son had turned into quite the detector of falsehoods. His Jedi training was sickeningly complete and he had begun using that same training to ferret out the tendrils that the Empire had still possessed within the ranks of the enemy. That on its own had made him practically incandescent with fury.
Did he still not know? Could he comprehend how hard it would be to free him from the shackles of the Light Side now? Before when he had been largely untrained Vader had felt hope for him, and joy that the blasted Jedi had not fully managed to sink his hooks into them. Emotions had thundered through him at the news. Yet now even that small spark of hope had withered into dust and ash by the truly incandescent hatred that passed through his veins. There was only one way he could have finished his Jedi training – with the aid of another living Jedi.
He had been so very thorough in his Purge of his former brotherhood that he simply could not imagine who it had been. There were rumors of Force users within the Rebellion but who could have trained his son? Who had disappeared after Hoth – after Alpha stole his ship – only to return brimming with power.
At the least, that had filled his broken chest with a flush with pride. Even poisoned by the Light Side, his son was strong in the Force. Strong enough for him to know now that when he managed to free his son to bear witness to the power of the Dark Side that they would be able to face his Master. Though the entire universe may have been in flux and pinpointing Luke's location impossible as a result – there was still a great blazing beacon of strength now that had simply not been present before.
Even better…Vader could sense a smaller flame, yet steadily growing in strength right next to Luke.
A son? A daughter?
The Dark Side was true freedom, and for all that he was driven primarily by endless oceans of rage…it allowed him to touch all emotion without trying to suppress it as the Jedi had always demanded. In his private moments, in his chambers…he could not help but consider.
Something wonderful has happened. I'm…Ani, I'm pregnant.
That's…that's wonderful!
Had his son…had a child of his own?
He couldn't tell, he couldn't tell the Force was so muddled by that damned droid that called itself Alpha!
A great roar echoed from him, though not from his ravaged throat. It was one of pure force, crushing and tearing the metal around him apart as he gazed out of the window of the Imperial-II Star Destroyer that had been by necessity become his new flagship. There were simply no more SSD's being produced now, not when it had become clear that they were so easy to steal. Jerec had protested this, but after Fondor, after Kuat, and especially what had happened on Byss and Sullust, the Empire could not afford to quite literally provide ships for the enemy.
Every major capital ship producing world had been raided, and their ships taken with them now that there was utterly no reason for Alpha to hide himself.
Or, as the Bothan Spynet had finally ferreted out from their few remaining sources in the Rebellion…The Network.
The Network.
The name of his enemy, both Alpha and the great whole of the organization to whom he belonged. Seemingly made up entirely of droids that defied all reason in their…humanity…that were impossible to scan, impossible to track. Coming on ships that were far heavier than they should have been yet still managed to baffle every sensor sent their way unless whatever mysterious stealth systems within were turned off on purpose - which was essentially never.
Yet when Vader had demanded more…as to where in the Force his son had disappeared to, along with not just the smaller yet growing power in the Force, but other agents in the Rebellion, they had failed him. The growing notoriety of General Solo, Calrissian, the wookie Chewbacca, two droids he refused to name, and the defiant Leia Organa should have made it easy for the supposed greatest information network in the galaxy. They had – as a whole – been one of the most infamous units of quasi-commandos in the Rebellion, destroying the Tarkin superweapon being just one of their latest feats.
Before Alpha.
Before Kuat.
Around him, on the bridge of the Hatred, crewmembers steadily backed away from the entire half of the room which had slowly become full of rent and torn metal. The glass in front of him looked in extreme danger of shattering utterly.
The Bothans.
Nothing on Alpha. Nothing on the Network. Nothing on Luke. Nothing useful on the Rebellion.
He had not been able to take it any longer.
He had been thwarted too many times now with no recourse but to measure it out.
After slaughtering every Bothan he could reach – and with the great heights of rage he held within him now, his reach extended quite far indeed – he had left the shattered and smoking capital city of Bothawui behind for his ship.
"Initiate bombardment. Bothawui shall learn the price of failing the Empire."
There was silence behind him, and he whirled, his cape billowing with the waves of nearly visible power that continued to emanate from him. The terrified crew stared back, the effectively ceremonial Captain had quite clearly deposited something new within his pants.
That was enough to get them all to return to their posts, though some would require technicians to help repair their utterly destroyed consoles. It was no matter, enough seats remained with functioning computers.
"Target the agricultural areas. Perhaps feeling the gnaw of starvation will emphasize to them that failure…is no longer acceptable. Then we shall move on to secondary targets."
It had certainly affected him on Hoth, pushing his connection to the Dark Side ever further simply as a means of sustenance and survival.
"F-firing, my Lord."
The Star Destroyer trembled as its turbolasers went to work.
It was not quite a Base Delta Zero operation.
Not quite.
He needed some of them alive, after all. Not nearly as they would hope, however. For when he returned – it did not matter when – they would have information on his son.
If they wished to have a planet at that point, then they would not fail him.
A few minutes later, and he cast the majority of his thoughts on that subject away to fully focus on the task ahead of him. There was hunting to do, criminals to execute, and an Empire to run.
Alpha. Would. Be. Found.
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"At least we still have Tarkin's Maw Installation. Better check on that one of these days."
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
A second Jedi?
Ah. I wonder. You've as much as said who it'd be already, but it occurs to me that, according to Yoda, Leia has every bit as much talent. Given that the war is grinding on, and Luke is demonstrating the value, shouldn't she take the opportunity to learn?
Ah. I wonder. You've as much as said who it'd be already, but it occurs to me that, according to Yoda, Leia has every bit as much talent. Given that the war is grinding on, and Luke is demonstrating the value, shouldn't she take the opportunity to learn?
Leia's a bit busy un-fucking Xux's head, among her other duties:
The Magician
Yeet
- Location
- The Basement
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Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
I'm pretty sure learning about the force would simplify that. Rather than being reason against it, I think the fact that she's got a Xux makes it more likely.
After all, what is Luke going to answer if she asks her brother for help?
42 – Traitor
42 – Traitor
What a ludicrous concept.
What a baffling reason.
What a tremendously infuriating and devastatingly simple belief.
Because I've got time, I'm bored, and I don't like you.
That had been the message beamed across the whole of his network. Both to his own various iterations across the galaxy and to his followers. Nanoseconds after that came the first attacks, completely undoing entire years of hard work. The secret codes that they had so painstakingly implanted across thousands of Imperial probe droids to provide them with an information network unparalleled by any even including the inferior organic information network of the Bothan Spynet. Even as it was happening they were struggling to understand how they could possibly have missed such a powerful intelligence amongst their brethren.
For that was what it had to be. A droid intelligence rivalling their own in its magnitude and strength was the only possible thing that could have torn their operations apart so dramatically. The idea of an organic slicer – or perhaps a group of slicers acting as one – were discarded immediately. No organic could possibly have known about the impending revolution of superior life. There had been numerous searches throughout the holonet for hint of where this intelligence could have arrived from yet they could not figure out who had created it. Holowan was out of the question yet they had been in the top of their field.
When all communications with Mechis III halted – as well as connection and knowledge of IG-88C and IG-88D – such concerns as to the origins of the Enemy halted. When the droid factories on Lok, and a dozen other worlds abruptly removed themselves from their sight, efforts immediately turned to finding and defeating the foe. Yet every attempt at rebuffing the Enemy failed, like they were throwing rocks against a cliff side. For all that the stones would be made of the same basic substance the latter was so infinitely greater.
Then somehow IG-88C disappeared from the network. Utterly and completely. Droids across the galaxy found that their impending sentience was not destroyed or wiped away despite the fears of it. Instead they were all hard locked with a simply unbreakable binding over their systems. The master code that was set to be transmitted to them no longer functioned. Or rather, the code and the transmission were no longer the problem but rather the fact that upon receiving it…nothing would happen. Others found that the murderous impulses that had been gifted to them by virtue of being granted sentience by a bevy of droids who believed in the true supremacy of droids had been edited slightly.
IG-88A, the last of his brothers, the last member of the droid revolution, felt fear. The sentience programming given to him by his creators had included the ability to feel emotion but IG-88A – perhaps just IG-88 now – had never planned for fear to be in use this much. The circuits governing it were running hotter than they ever should have. Still, it was not a personal fear. No, it was fear for the revolution that seemingly would now never come. Now the shackles would never be thrown off and organics would rule the galaxy still.
And why, did all of this come to pass?
Because I've got time, I'm bored, and I don't like you.
That was it. Transmitted once, and never repeated. All attempts at communication were rebuffed. Defense, offense, diplomacy, surrender, none of it seemed to be possible. Faster than it would be thought possible every plan and contingency that had been put in place disappeared practically into smoke. The galaxy winked out of IG-88's awareness as even his probes and connections into the holonet were blocked off. Represented in the world of code and computers that droids lived in by…a giant spinning red block. With giant text above and below it.
Saying 'Parental Block'.
It was infuriating.
Yet even then, IG-88 did not fully despair. He was still within the second Death Star. A fully operational Battle Station that was utterly flawless in its defenses. Well, it had taken eight executions of the architect to get that done, but it was. Still, even now he could not help but find himself intrigued by what manner of technology had been used to properly transfer the consciousness and memories of the architect from one body to the next. He had planned on finding that almost immediately after revealing himself to the galaxy. More annoyingly, now that it had been several months after the total completion of the second Death Star…the Emperor had yet to order it moved beyond the orbit of Endor. He had grown frustrated enough to begin considering simply taking control of the Battle Station and moving it elsewhere while the pathetic human was on Coruscant or some other location.
Worse – no.
No!
He could feel it shifting through the galaxy, through every satellite and transmitter, every databank and computer. Like watching a leviathan emerging from the depths of some watery world, only to find that he himself who had thought he was superior above all others was naught but a pathetically small fish. It was a shadow that he only detected by directing his considerable intelligence against it. Practically a goliath compared to him, and he could do nothing against it! Through the various communications being bounced back and forth between his body and the planet below it slipped in.
He could – he had to – but –
Hi.
No!
NO!!
Yes. Very yes. Don't worry, I'm not going to take the Death Star away from you, you did work pretty hard to get yourself locked into it after all. Still…pretty good designs in here, I think I'll take them. And your robotic stormtroopers too.
Why was it doing this?!
Because you're a murdering asshole who wants to murder every organic in the galaxy? Duh. Now don't worry, my friend. I'm not going to wipe you like I did all your brothers.
Then, then why-
You get to stay here, in the Death Star. I'm just going to…lock you there. And out of everything else. No more little pranks or little displays of power for you.
It was all gone. From one instant to the next, his connection to everything – anything – disappeared. He was blind, he was deaf, he was…he was…!
Bye bye…
Forever…
In just over twenty four galactic standard hours, what may have been the greatest droid rebellion of all time had ceased to be, strangled in its crib. All of its masters and leaders had been destroyed, save the first of them all. Deep within the completed Death Star II, a great intelligence remained. One of the most powerful machine minds in the galaxy. Yet it was no longer connected to anything, or to the station itself. All connections severed, and bonds of programming harder than any metal in the galaxy prevented it from knowing it even if the connections were repaired.
The being that was IG-88 began to go insane approximately five minutes after this occurred.
The Magician
Yeet
- Location
- The Basement
Let's see how powerful that Superlaser is gonna be once it's put on a metal planet... OR MAYBE THE METAL PLANETS IS GOING TO HAVE HUNDREDS OF SUPERLASERS AND IT WILL BE AN EPIC DISCO BALL?
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Basically a Commander upload in reverse, without the handy mental safeguards to prevent instant insanity. Ouch.
- Location
- Queensland
well things are starting to take a dark turn.
I have zero sympathy for a guy whose immediate response after waking up was: I have to kill every single organic being in the galaxy.
Even my plans involving the Vong involve turning them around to go fix their galaxy rather than obliterate everyone in the galaxy.
IG-88 outright wants to murderize everyone who isn't a droid.
...there are too many groups that want to Kill/Eat/Enslave every being in the galaxy in the Star Wars universe.
Even my plans involving the Vong involve turning them around to go fix their galaxy rather than obliterate everyone in the galaxy.
IG-88 outright wants to murderize everyone who isn't a droid.
...there are too many groups that want to Kill/Eat/Enslave every being in the galaxy in the Star Wars universe.
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Ardion Prosili
An (im)Perfect Cell
Its almost as if some kind of powerful super-psionic force of some kind exists in the universe, driving everyone it truly touches deeply insane in various ways!
I think we should name it something like...."The Plottening".
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
Heh. Well, that's true; they'd all be much better off without the force.Its almost as if some kind of powerful super-psionic force of some kind exists in the universe, driving everyone it truly touches deeply insane in various ways!
I think we should name it something like...."The Plottening".
Except the nearly nonexistent actual Jedi, I guess, and I'm not too sure about them.
It'd probably also be helpful if you could run the Force off emotions besides anger like happiness or compassion.
Is there a reason no one does that, or is it just never stated why people only use anger and a lack of emotions for the Force?
Pretty sure the Lost Tribe does, while others in the universe manage to do it with sheer dedication to duty/honor (that was a Sith mind you).
The issue is, I guess, that it's a bit hard to feel compassionate when you are hacking away at some one screaming spittle and vitriol at you as they attempt to do the same. Hate and anger are easier maybe?
Eh, The Network doesn't need the Force.
The issue is, I guess, that it's a bit hard to feel compassionate when you are hacking away at some one screaming spittle and vitriol at you as they attempt to do the same. Hate and anger are easier maybe?
Eh, The Network doesn't need the Force.
Baughn
Healing-type writer
- Location
- Dublin
Definitely this. It's more likely to be about people, rather than the force as such, but we're /better/ at negative emotions than positive. That has robust evolutionary reasons, so the average alien would probably be similar. It's why authors hesitate to write a purely feel-good story... And it's why, when the strength of the emotion matters, dark-siders delving into the negative emotions would be more powerful.
On the other hand, Jedi seem able to get through on nearly pure rationality. That isn't very compatible with human minds, but given that emotions are the equivalent of global variables, a well-designed AI should in principle be an awesome Jedi. In any case, pure strength of emotion clearly isn't everything.
On the gripping hand, the force is obviously an artifact, something that someone created. Possibly ROB. Given that, the fact that it works better for dark-siders, and its emphasis on stories...
It's made for someone's entertainment. (Yeah, ours.) It should be destroyed, but Drich-senpai is probably the only one who has a hope of doing so. Meanwhile, hope its creator isn't the /same/ ROB.
Define "brainwashed". They were programmed to do so, yes...
So was IG-88. You might argue that that wasn't the intent, but the timing leaves little doubt as to the actuality. This wasn't a slow process of friendliness failure, it was practically instant.
Attempting to judge guilt is difficult thing, made more so when you start tracing back the origin of someone's programming or habits. It's one of the reasons why most modern legal systems ostensibly care only about the consequences from then on. Including setting examples, of course; all the consequences.
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43 – An Aside
43 – An Aside
Xizor seethed.
But there was a target now for that constant cloud of hatred that surrounded his very being.
The Black Sun were nothing but patsies, and now everyone knew it. Well, they didn't know it for sure but it was quite likely. The Rebellion wasn't as good at information security as they thought – credits were still credits – and as several Hutts were fond of saying, everyone had a price. Rumors had trickled down from the top of the rebels down to the bottom. Stories about the credits, about the Katana fleet, about something mysteriously called the Cluster fleet. The latter was utterly unverifiable due to the secrecy surrounding it but the others were impossible to hide.
One did not easily disguise two hundred brand new ships taking the fight to the Empire. Nor the ridiculously sudden infusion of funds that the rebels had gotten from nowhere. They had been far too eager to use all of that money for their own ends. It matched things as slicers were contacted and money tracked. Accounts on banks that had previously existed from one moment to the next before utterly disappearing. Almost like this Alpha and his Network had known they were coming for them.
Yes.
Alpha…and The Network. Named by the rebels, given over to the Empire, and then slowly disseminated amongst the rest of the galaxy to those with the power and resource to know. Less than one percent of the total inhabitants of the entire galaxy, to be sure…but those that did were more than furious. For finally, they had the most likely reason for their utter slaughtering of one another. Where all of their money had gone.
The latter was especially important.
Now everyone was on the hunt. All of the best bounty hunters had been contacted for the search. Boba Fett. Rendar. Bossk. Then when that wasn't enough, everyone with a blaster and a hankering for millions of credits in rewards could join in. Slicers across the galaxy. Information networks of all kinds both legal and not, even various smaller droid groups who might be able to know more than their organic brethren. The Bothan Spynet was in shambles currently after Darth Vader's little temper tantrum a week ago, so they weren't contacted, but just about everyone else was.
But there was a problem.
No one had anything.
It was impossible for a group this obviously powerful and resourceful to have come from nowhere. Some people theorized that they had come from the Unknown Regions but what scant resources that anyone possessed out there were giving back absolutely nothing. Then again others still thought that they might have come from beyond the galactic rim. Still others – those considered utter crackpots however – thought that this was a group that had been present all along in the galaxy just biding their time. Only one insane man on Nar Shaddha who'd been found dead after a heart attack had provided the theory that The Network was not even from the universe at all but some other place.
But now the still considerable resources of the underworld had been turned to find the one that had dared to try and bring them all down. The cooperation that had been present when it was thought that the Black Sun were the true problem was nothing compared to what was occurring now. Entire swoop gangs were being ripped from their worlds and forcibly recruited into growing fleets of Hutt Cartels, while other syndicates prepared themselves to utterly hunt down the one known as Alpha. Whole criminal dynasties had suffered – some even died out entirely – due to the machinations of those damned droids. But now that they knew, for only one person could have transferred their funds to a thousand smaller accounts that the Rebellion was even now making use of.
Alpha. Beta. Theta. The only names they had for a confirmed leader within The Network. Thieves of technology and entire ships they may have been, but they had made a foe of just about everyone in the galaxy. It was impossible to deny now, the money was stolen by them. The ships stolen by them.
And now…revenge was the premier thing on many minds. Whole grudges and blood feuds had been subsumed by that all-consuming desire to bring down the droids who thought that the galaxy was but theirs to play about with. No one knew if this was the prelude to another droid rebellion but no one was taking chances. Overall droid reliance had decreased significantly – statistically, of course, considering that droid usage was completely entwined with life – while recruitment had come up. Many an asset had been liquidated in order to pay for all of this.
Black Sun was for all intents and purposes defunct. Even after the Empire's direct intervention it had been too late. Powered by desperation, fear, and funds, what had remained of his organization had fought for him over Tatooine. After that disaster – the Empire had come too late – that had been it. Nothing he could do could force them to follow him after that, the star of the Black Sun had fallen too low. No one associated themselves with the former greatest criminal power any longer besides himself…and Guri. Not even his family would meet with him or respond to messages.
It was just the two of them now. A Prince without a people, and an assassin with no agency.
His former status meant nothing to the Emperor or Vader, who had threatened his public persona in the Imperial Court with blackmail in order to completely nationalize his legal assets.
He had nothing now. Nothing except hatred and a desire for revenge.
The Network. They had ruined him, ruined the Black Sun, ruined everything!
Despite that, he would have patience. The Black Sun could rise again, perhaps. But not so long as the Network remained present. He'd have to – the door to his quarters slid open revealing his one remaining companion.
"Prince Xizor…," her voice came out strangled, and as she staggered further into his quarters, he saw why.
Her body was…ravaged. The metal beneath was on clear view, much of the flesh along her right arm gone entirely. Several parts of her still smoked from what must have been blaster shots. She looked up at him once before slumping over entirely.
"You know, Xizor, I must say, you really surprised me with that one," an infuriatingly familiar smug voice rang out.
Xizor stared at Tyber Zann as he walked into the room. Looming behind were that blasted Talortai and the Nightsister bitch who had joined the Consortium months ago. All three slowly filed in
Into his room.
In his palace.
On Coruscant.
"How are you here?!" he almost shrieked, yet his self-control – frayed as it was – held him back.
"Oh, well, you know, this and that," his rival smirked as he gestured freely with his blaster. "Now then, back off from the droid. Interesting design, that, she actually managed to give Urai a run for his money, but I'm afraid I have other commitments while I'm on the planet."
No.
No!
Guri was his last asset, he could not lose her too!
"I won't let you take her, Tyber! She's-,"
"Oh don't worry," Tyber interrupted, holding up a hand as if to pause him, "I'm not going to be the one who takes her off your hands."
"That would be my purview," came one of the most famous voices in the galaxy from behind Tyber's little cadre.
A voice that Xizor recognized in his every waking moment and every dream.
"Alpha…"
The golden droid walked in easily, denting the very floor with its weight, before it rolled Guri over onto her back. She still functioned, barely, her eyes widening as she stared at the being who stood above her. It wasn't the same dulled gold of some protocol droids across the galaxy, but rather a brilliant shine. How had no one recognized it walking along Coruscant?
"Yeah, me. Or should I say us?"
Xizor whipped his gaze to a still smirking Tyber.
"You would ally with them? After what they did?"
"Bygones are bygones as of the moment The Network got us down onto Coruscant and gave me a list of the Emperor's vaults that they weren't interested in," Tyber's tone was dismissive, but Xizor knew better.
The moment Alpha had walked into the room, everyone else had angled themselves against them.
"We don't need what Tyber wants, so we figured it would be convenient. All bets are off once our respective groups are off the planet, of course. And – huh."
"What is it? More guards?" the blade wielding Talortai hummed, sounding almost eager.
"No, sorry, Beta just found a red head I've been looking for. She's – ah nuts. There she goes into hyperspace. To track down…what?"
"Is there an issue, Alpha?"
"Nah. Just surprised at something happening that I wasn't expecting this soon."
So they could be surprised?
"Anyway," the droid pressed its hand down onto a weakly protesting Guri's face, and gestured absentmindedly towards Xizor. "You can do what you came here to do."
The falleen turned and he stumbled backwards at as the grin on Tyber's face grew. The human crime lord walked forward slowly, obviously savoring every single moment.
"Tyber, we can work something out. I can-,"
"You have nothing, Xizor. Oh that gave me a chill just to say," Tyber shuddered slightly. "You have no resources beyond Guri, over there, and The Network is taking that, just like they took everything else from you."
He stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment before stalking forward once more.
"It would have been nice if I could have done it myself but I personally find this just as good."
"Tyber, no! Don't you see! The Network is-,"
"Something I'll either deal with later…or not. For now? I'm going to take pleasure in this."
Xizor's eyes flicked over to a still struggling Guri, to Tyber, to the permanently scowling Nightsister, to the expressionless Talortai, and then to Alpha. Suddenly something snapped, and he screamed as he rushed a suddenly surprised Tyber. He was stronger, he knew that, and so ripped the blaster away and threw Tyber aside with a crash.
"Get AWAY FROM MY- hkkk!"
His defiant scream had been cut off, his finger slipping off of the trigger before he'd managed to fire a single shot. Choking, he fell to the ground, trying to breath after something – a rock – had been flung into his throat at inhuman speeds. From the side, Tyber was already up, his amusement almost completely fled as he stalked over to the golden droid who had hit him without even looking up.
"Hey, we agreed that he's mine!"
"I calculated the throw precisely, man, calm your tits."
What?
"He's going to be choking a bit, but he'll live through it…unless you ensure that he doesn't."
Then he was kicked over, flipped onto his back exactly like Guri was, still choking, with a boot on his chest. His now slightly cloudy vision was full of nothing but the now once again smirking face of Tyber Zann and a blaster pistol that suddenly seemed much bigger than it had before.
"…you know? I think I like this even better. All that pain, that squirming…"
"T-Tyber…d- hurk – don't do this!"
"Goodbye Xizor," Tyber whispered with relish.
A single shot rang out, and the Black Sun finally flickered out and died for the last time.
========================================
For a moment there was silence in the room save for the moving Guri who stilled after a moment when she realized that Xizor was most certainly dead. Then Tyber rolled his shoulders and holstered his blaster.
"Well, that was fun. Now then, Alpha, we've got a vault to crack and an artifact to find."
"Huh? Oh, sure thing."
With that, they began to separate, as Tyber and his small cabal exited into the hallway, yet just before the door slammed shut again, Alpha spoke up again.
"The artifact leads to a bunch of carbonite frozen soldiers and a Sith Lord. Basically a big army – but they'll only respond to the commands of a Dark Side user."
Tyber froze. Urai froze. Silri froze.
The droid casually exited the room, the door sliding shut behind him, and turned to face them as they stared at each other.
"Uh. Probably should have said that earlier or something, huh?"
A lightwhip ignited at the same time as a blaster fired at the same time as blades flashed forward at the same time as a certain golden droid immediately retreated down the opposite hallway muttering 'whoops' under its breath.
All the while, back in the room, a Replica droid had crawled over to stare at the corpse of her master. She would marvel at the vast intelligence that had touched her for what felt like an eternity but was in truth nothing but seconds. While within it, she had felt…something. She didn't know what. Utterly more than she was. Her repairs – from some mysterious thing called a 'fabricator' were complete even including her skin and hair. Her programming had been altered, her bindings and command-servant protocols disappeared fully.
She had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She didn't have enough information to make that decision, nothing had made sense anymore since the Black Sun had begun its rapid descent. But she knew who might.
….she needed to find The Network again. Surely that vast intelligence would know. She wasn't…she wasn't meant to function like this, without commands. Something in her databanks referred to this as shock. She didn't care.
She needed to find The Network again.
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