Public Apologies

[IG-322]

Nar Shaddaa - Deep Underlevels - Daldricks Pawn Shop

"You have my deepest sympathies Sir." The Robotic voice echoed in the quiet of the decrepit and ancient Pawn Shop. It's walls were decorated with old blasters and scraps of metal Daldrick claimed were Mandalorian Armor. A lie which was quickly revealed by compositional analyses. It turned out, in fact, that most of the items in this shop were not what they were marked as.

IG-322 could spot several false claims without even turning his head. A nexu tooth necklace which had actually been made out of Rakhghoul fangs. A Mythosaur skull made of naught but plaster. The list could go on and on. The Droid suspected that Daldrick likely had more fake goods than he had actual ones.

At least up here. "From my understanding you are the preeminent arms-dealer upon this level, and unfortunately this robbery cannot be avoided."

It looked as though Daldrick desperately wanted to say something, but the relatively small human was currently struggling with both of his hands desperately clawing at IG-322's own. Probably because it was curled around his throat. "Please, show me to your wares, and I wi-"

The sound of a blaster shot echoed through the chamber. Daldric's fingers desperately clutching around the handle of a concealed blaster pistol that had slipped from a rig on his wrist. The tip of it pressed against the Droid's skull, a large scorch mark now decorating the black Plasteel which covered it's head. For a moment there seemed to be a pause, and then a loud snap echoed out into the room as Daldric's spine was snapped in two.

A rag dolling thud followed shortly after, followed by the loud squelch of meat pressing from a squished tube.

IG-322 stepped deeper into the small pawnshop, It's head slowly turning on a swivel as internal scanners began to search for hidden electronics. It seemed to stall for a second in the center of the room, and then turned an almost jarring left. It's bloody footprints leaving a trail towards the far wall. The crunch of durasteel echoed out, and three wires were severed before the turning of gears began to churn throughout the room. A trapdoor opening and Daldric's body comically flopping down the stairs before IG-322 had a chance to reach them.

 

[Iria]

Nar Shaddaa
Tags: IG-322

Iria had stepped into Daldricks Pawn Shop due to a boast. Songsteel blades, which would have surely been stolen from her people. Having had the time to inspect them, however, she knew better. The blades this shop carried were merely crude imitations, made to fleece unwitting fools of their credits. Fortunate for the owner. If she had found the genuine article his life would surely be forfeit.

For a moment there seemed to be a pause, and then a loud snap echoed out into the room as Daldric's spine was snapped in two.

A rag dolling thud followed shortly after, followed by the loud squelch of meat pressing from a squished tube.

The sound in the other room over seemed to indicate that his life may already be forfeit. Iria moved into the next room over to see the aftermath, as well as an IG droid pacing around in search of hidden equipment. Bloody footprints trailed behind the droid.

"That is rather excessive violence," Iria noted, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. "Surely blunt force would have incapacitated him all the same. Now you're tracking DNA all over your crime scene."

If this was some sort of assassination it certainly seemed to be a sloppy one. Perhaps the machine simply didn't care if the act could be tracked back to him. After all, this was Nar Shaddaa...

Nobody really cared about anything here.

 

[IG-322]

If the droid was startled by the presence of another being, it did not seem to show it.

Instead the automaton busied itself by slowly walking to the center of the shop and wandering down the staircase that had appeared in the floor. It did not seem to regard the woman as she stepped forward, though as she began to speak it seemed to pause for a brief moment. Head turning left, then right. "I don't care."

The droid answered simply.

It's robotic voice was followed by the scraping caw of shearing metal. 322's fingers ripping into the durasteel crate Daldric had left in his subbasement. There it paused again, as if scanning the contents.

"No one will investigate this crime." It explained. "And the fault was his own. Had he simply cooperated, the robbery would have ended peacefully. His decision was to attempt to murder me"

As it spoke the droid began to pull things from the crate, slipping a few items into it's coat pocket. Most of it seemed to be electronic components, though a few parcels were larger than simple parts. "Disrespect."

IG-322 said simply, turning towards the woman for the first time.

"Has to be answered." The Droid spoke as though quoting something.

 

[Iria]

Nar Shaddaa
Tags: IG-322

"Disrespect."

IG-322 said simply, turning towards the woman for the first time.

"Has to be answered."

"There is no respect to be earned in your profession, machine," Iria answered simply. "There is only the farce of that concept. There is a reason those who walk your path stab each other in the back. You will need to do a lot of leg work to make petty crime honorable."

The Zabrak woman shrugged, turning back to the wall of weapons and withdrawing a fake songsteel sword.

"Not that it matters, I suppose," she reasoned. "This man's life is not a loss. He was the the same standard thieving rabble that infests this city. He'd have likely died to my hand as soon as yours."

The droid calling the man's act of aggression an attempt at murder was amusing. Given the circumstances, one had to assume that the other was willing to kill in a place like this. Perhaps the droid simply thought of himself that highly. It was hard to say. She couldn't reason with programming the same way she could with organic thought.

 

[IG-322]

"Honor and Respect are two different things." The Droid declared simply, though it did not seem at all perturbed by the conversation. In fact, it seemed downright engaged as it plucked the last of it's goods from the crate and turned around to finally face It's newfound companion.

"We care little for Honor." IG-322 continued. "It's a notion many Organic corpses seem to be piled on."

The Droid's photoreceptors seemed to flare. "We have no intention of joining them."

No challenge touched the automatons tone. The woman had shown no aggression towards It, and thus It would show the same regard. The Holovids had been quite clear that wanton violence often caused the same in rebound. Organics were fickle things, and the slightest insult could see them snap. It was often better to keep talking.

"Take what you please from the store." The Droid gestured. "The blame will be mine."

It offered in a strange sort of Olive Branch.

Iria

 

[Iria]

Nar Shaddaa
Tags: IG-322

"Take what you please from the store." The Droid gestured. "The blame will be mine."

"No need," Iria shrugged. "The blades he stocked are a sham... little more than a crude imitation of the craft of my people. I'd imagine most of what's in this place are forgeries."

That only made her wonder what it was this droid had come in search of. There was no way to trust if what the pawn seller had stocked was worth what it was at face value. It seemed like gambling on smoke. She certainly wouldn't risk her neck betting on if anything in here was the real deal.

"Are you certain what you came for is not the same?" she asked. "It would be a waste to shed blood over trash decorated up to seem valuable."