Public Coruscant Prison Break: Busting The Six-Vault Lock

[Paareth]

Open to All | Loose Posting Order | OOC Thread​

• Coruscant
• Prison Complex - Cern-6 - 'The Six-Vault Lock'
• 15,000 High-Risk Inmates.
• 1,000 Guards.

From the manically insane to the best criminal minds on the planet, Cern-6 housed some of the worst criminal scum ever to warrant that lofty title. This highly secure and dangerous facility sat on one of the busiest planets in the galaxy, earning its nickname, the six-vault lock, for the six locked doors fortifying against any escape. Like many modern facilities, it maintained a strict 15:1 inmate-to-guard ratio.

At mealtime, each prisoner wing took a turn in the gigantic, multilevel cantina. Serving on all sides, it fed 1,500 inmates at once, resulting in long queues, old slop they called edible, or dry food cubes if you were lucky. Droids received half-filled recycled power cells or a jolt of low-voltage power; forget an oil bath!

Gang life thrived here, with all kinds represented. The Pyke Syndicate, Black Suns, Hutt Cartel, and the Zann Consortium dominated in numbers, but plenty of solo bounty hunters, infamous underworld types, and assassins were also locked away.

In a bright orange jumpsuit, one of the ugliest-looking Trandoshans ever recorded shuffled around. His wrists and legs were clamped tight. Only a few prisoners walked in binders, but they took no chances with some here. Standing over eight feet tall, his thick, scaly skin was the most normal thing about him, and when he sat his weight down next to a cantina table, the bench creaked under him.

Most people avoided sitting with the wrong crowd, but Paareth didn't seem to notice any looks he got, and no one dared to challenge him on it yet. He dropped his slop-for-food on the table before him; the green froth didn't make it more appealing.

"So, what are you in for?" asked a Rodian poking his 'food'. The conversation went around the table, many trying to one-up the last prisoner with a grander tale.

 

[Paareth]

Prisoners exchanged their usual banter around the vast hall, pushing and shoving as guards clamped down on anything out of line. When Paareth's turn to speak came, he tensed his oversized green hand along the metallic table surface, his breathing becoming erratic.

"What, do you think you're special? I've killed twenty men," the nearest prisoner mocked him.

Veins bulged in Paareth's neck as he tried to maintain his composure, but an uneasy feeling settled over the area around him. Only a matter of time before he couldn't contain his building rage, the black blood of Sith alchemy coursing through him. His silence only fueled the other man's ire, encouraging the worst in people.

"Hey, I'm talking at you!" The prisoner slammed his hands down. Paareth's eyes flickered, a red mist clouding his vision as his hands began to shake within the bracings.

The state of hyper rage in the Trandoshan sparked a louder argument nearby, drawing attention but not the guards. "Do you keep score?" he said through gritted teeth, grinding his enamel down.

"What did I just say, cupcake?" The man prodded Paareth in the forehead. Meanwhile, another argument broke out, and two people scuffled enough to draw a guard.

Agitated tension coursed through Paareth's arms as he violently shook them, breaking apart the bindings. He grabbed the mocking prisoner's skull with a large hand and crushed the victim until nothing remained. "One," he muttered. His rage incited fights, some staged and others organic, as many prisoners seized the opportunity to settle old grudges.

Ripping off his leg bracers, the musclebound bruiser leaped over the table at the nearest guard while alarms began to sound. The prison break had begun.

 

[Cletus T Durango]

"So, what are you in for?"

"I'm innocent Roger Roger."

This was not true of course. Cletus had robbed a bank just recently but his memory banks were so corrupted he could not remember doing that. He maintained that he was thrown in prison because someone was out to steal all his country western hits. It was a conspiracy! The droid also seemed to forget he was a droid because he had a tray of food in front of him that he had not touched.

What Cletus did notice was the big green guy. He seemed really angry. Cletus bet nobody would like that guy when he was angry. Sure enough the guy started a riot. Darn it! Cletus should have bet money on this.

He picked up his tray and whipped a passing person over the head, weather criminal or guard he did not know.

 

[Paareth]

The First Lock - The Cantina Doors
Tags: Cletus T Durango | Open

Prison Condition:

• Warning: Riots in the Multi-Level Central Cantina
• Alert: Disturbance in Prison Wings B and D

Prisoners grouped, using opportunity and chaos; the cartels, gangs, and syndicates, seeing they might have a chance and running out of enemies, started working together. The initial Cantina guards struggled to contain the outbreaks of rage filling the room. All Paareth could see was red, tension shaking across his body. Weaker minds broke out into irrational displays of violence as guards attempted to restrain them, and droids were forced to question their choice of cuisine.

Inspired by the weaponization of trays, the Trandoshan picked up the table and followed suit, striking a whole group of people against its metal surface. He nodded to the droid with an affirming grunt, pulling it back the other way to hurl it towards the opening cantina doors. On cue, the first proper response of guards came in headfirst to a tumbling table, breaking their stride. Trying to recover and organize, they held stun weapons in a tight formation to subdue individual prisoners in a group. Nobody here was stupid; this was a highly secure prison, and they were trained for it.

Sithwatch agents atop the second level showered those entering with kitchen pots, hot liquid, goo flour mixtures, or slush, coating them in the same scalding hot slop the prisoners had been eating earlier. The responding guards were staggered again, only now vaguely smelling like half-baked week-old peach cakes. Inmates' laughter filtered in amongst the violence, seeing their imprisoners walking and smelling like a cheap, underdone slice of leftover dessert.

Picking up another table and ripping it off the floor, Paareth bellowed to those smashing the hardest, "Want out? Crush them!" The droid faced a great, big, tooth-filled mouth in what looked like a snarling grin. The lumbering brute picked up speed to run like a battering ram into their already staggered shields and stun batons. Suitable set to the sound of bowling pins in future GNN holonet clips.

Before the Cantina doors could shut again, the lights went out—the unthinkable happening for any hungry droid—someone had cut the power!

 

[Cletus T Durango]

Cletus watched as the big one smashed towards the door. The fruity smelling guards scalded hands fought for the stun guns as Cletus kept tight to the bigger green being. This was clearly the ticket out of here.

When the lights went out Cletus sparked and felt his head wobble a little. Why was there an indicator in his field of vision now? What did it say? Low battery? What did that even mean? Cletus couldn’t remember he was a droid after all. It must be a new plot to steal more of his country songs!

Cletus started to sing a little diddy while he used some of the spilled slop to slide double speed towards the door.


“I hear the train a-comin', it's rolling 'round the bend…And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when….”

He slid easily, the indicator light showing that without moving as much he was not using the battery, whatever that was.

“I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on”

In the dark the violence was getting more brutal. Stun sparks could be seen along with the sparks coming from Cletus himself.

Paareth

 

[Paareth]

The Second Lock - The Inner Hallway
Tags: Cletus T Durango

Prison Condition:

• Critical: The Multi-Level Central cantina has been overrun.
• Warning: Major Disturbance in Prison Wings B and D
• Alert: Prisoners are rioting in the inner hallway.

The angry mob surged forward out the Cantina doors and around the bend. Leading the charge was a green behemoth with anger issues and a fast-drawing, tray-hustling, smooth-singing, power-hungry droid with an identity complex. Smash-filled inspiration came from every word:

"I hear the train a-comin', it's rolling 'round the bend…And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when…."

Running like a freight train, the mob rolled on through, WHACK. SMASH. CRUNCH. Discarding the table, the Trandoshan yanked down the brightest red emergency light and peered through the gloom, illuminating a path strewn with fallen stun batons, shields, and security staff at their feet.

"I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on."

Paareth tore a large chronometer off the wall. Spinning it in his hand, he hammered it down on the remaining guard's head, leaving the man dazed, concussed, and confused. Dragging the clock behind him with the guard clinging to it for dear life, green hell moved forward. Desperate to avoid the mob, the terrified guard held on tightly, a security key card dangling from his pocket.

Surrounding the Cantina were the sealed entrances to the prison wings, ten marked from A to J. Wings B and D were particularly chaotic, with Sithwatch causing a ruckus—paareth aimed for B, pounding on the heavy metal door. The same noise of angry fists matched him from behind it. He placed his man-sized timepiece nearby and unleashed his full alchemized ferocity on the door, kicking, punching, and pulling against the stubborn metal. Though the door dented under his rage, it held firm.

Ignoring details like door controls in favor of creatively self-created doorways, he rained blows, wrenching at the hinges and twisting to pull, until a groaning noise started. Yet the door held! It might take an extraordinary droid-but-not-droid's deduction to solve this enigmatic puzzle.

The guard moaned beside the broken prison clock, wondering what was happening.

 

[Cletus T Durango]

Cletus was starting to think the big green smashy guy was being fueled by anger issues. Maybe he needed therapy. Maybe thats why he was in such a big hurry to get out. Either way it was a fun ride. He continued to slide into the next hallway but soon his ride was over and he was forced to use his legs. The battery icon started to blink in his eye again. What even was that thing?

While the big guy tried to smash his way through Cletus noticed there was a card key swinging from the poor guards pocket. He looked at it and looked at the big green guy smashing again, then stumbled forward in a jerky jittery motion. His sensors were frying and he was still sparking as he picked up the card and ran it through the slot. The doors opened!

"Oye! Greenie! Smash that way!" He pointed towards the opened doors. He jumped on the dangling chronometer, his next ride to stop that blinking battery icon.

Paareth

 

[Paareth]

The Third Lock - The Gaslighting
Tags: Cletus T Durango

Prison Condition:

• Critical: The Multi-Level Central cantina has been overrun.
• Critical: Wings A through F are loose! Disturbances in others reported!
• Warning: Prisoners have taken control of the Inner Hallway.

His cunning metal-not-metal compatriot used sheer electronic intelligence and powerful deductive reasoning to open the door. The crowd behind them cheered as the door was cast aside.

Oye! Greenie! Smash that way!

Grunting approval, "Hmmph," he lumbered through the doorway, denting the metal as he stamped his feet, trailing the chronometer behind him. Wilhelm screams soon followed, as guards were tossed around like badly voiced extras in a brutal depiction of B-movie holo violence.

Doors to the other wings started to spark and crackle, releasing more unjustly imprisoned, violently sociopathic criminals seeking the freedom the well-adjusted souls so rightly deserved.

Stamped down in tribute from the mob, echoes of "I'm innocent, Roger Roger!" bounced down the halls. Interspersed with punches, kicks, and stolen stun batons zapping those trying to stop them. Cheers erupted for the two ringleaders at the front as they faced the outer door. A wall of the prison's finest security guards in pristine armor awaited them; everything suddenly went quiet. It was a standoff, high noon for the more robotically western inclined.

Paareth crushed one fist into the other, looking at his companion.

Things got serious, almost. Hands tensed against their weapons, a few adjusted their hats or helmets, and some chewed on cocktail sticks.

They went for their guns, meal trays, chronometers, and pointed one-liners. But tear Gas rained on the defiant prisoners!

Blinding green lights shone out, glare and gas obstructing the third door. The corridor fogged, and nobody could see anything but light green clouds. Disaster: the big guy couldn't see who to smash! There were air vents, but who could see how to start them up in this mess? Nobody could breathe long enough to find them either!

 

[Cletus T Durango]

"Yeehaw!!! Roger Roger!"

Cletus was ridding behind the big green guy like a cowboy at the rodeo. He even had one hand up in the air, proper western style, as they sped down the hallway. The battery light was not blinking as badly as he rode his noble steed towards the door. Along the way his robotic arm slid out, scooping up one of the guards fallen hats. It was an old cattleman hat and it fit the droid nicely.

When they reached the final doors an eerie quiet settled over the place. Cletus could feel it in his "bones" and knew what was happening. This was the high noon duel. The final moment for them to draw their pistols and see who was left standing and who was left dead. He would face his challenge like a true western gentleman. Not like some of those cowards who came before him. He stood up, ignoring the battery light and prepared to face the challenge, but the bastards didn't play fair! There was green gas issuing out of the vents! The big guy didn't know where to smash.

Cletus started to cough and yelled "We're doomed!" But the line just didn't sound right from his mouth. That seemed like something a bug eyed yellow fellow would say and Cletus was many things, but yellow wasn't one of them!

All around them people were choking and coughing, Cletus was holding his cowboy hat over his nostrils. This seemed to do the trick! The gas was not working on him! It must be a magic hat! Before he had time to second guess his luck he grabbed the fallen chronometer and threw it like a frisby disk towards the air vent controls. It his the mark and the controls whirred to life. Immediately a fresh burst of air rang through the hall.

"Woo! Roger.. Rog....." The battery light was now fully red and frozen. Cletus couldn't move! Had the gas finally gotten him? He wondered as things started to go dark.

Paareth

 

[Paareth]

The Fourth Lock – Cad Bane's Cage
Tags: Cletus T Durango

Prison Condition:

• Critical: The Multi-Level Central cantina has been overrun.
• Critical: Wings A through J are open!
• Critical: Prisoners have taken control of the Inner and outer Hallway
• Alert: Prisoners have breached the courtyard!

Green gas cleared, and the crowd shed more tears than at a Gungan's standup comedy routine. Denied their showdown, Paareth reacted calmly and decisively, breaking the wall with his foot. Anger built as they prodded him, resorting to full-on shock weapons, putting him down on one knee, fist to the floor. Their high noon showdown clipped to a mere mid-afternoon break after lunch. No amount of stylish hat-twirling heroics or wall-breaking disputation could save them now.

The way was cleared by the deft hand of a droid clock-spinner, surely the fast timekeeper in the west rim. Paareth saw his metal companion freezing and swatted the annoying guard aside. He tried to prod Cletus with an oversized finger, then move the droid's legs for a reaction. "Hmmmmmmmggggggrrr," his deep voice grumbled, not fully understanding but taking it with the decorum he was famous for.

Wrenching his foot out of the wall and collapsing a chunk, the young acolyte tore through the place. Thundering in all directions like an unstable juggernaut with no off switch, hammering away and stacking a pile of hapless underpaid guards. Fresh inmates replaced those at the front who had fallen, rallying around the inspiring violence, a sign of personal growth and developing mutual trust; together, the violent mob breached the third lock.

Daylight.

A tiring and blooded Paareth attempted to scoop Cletus over his shoulder and move. ZAP! A man went flying, then another. Orange energy surged in all directions around them. It took a few more runs at the field for astute onlookers to realize that their strategy needed refinement. The Cad Bane Cage stood between the inmates and the courtyard walls, so named because—okay, it sounded fearsome to the inmates.

How did they break an energy cage? With careful planning, a well-thought-out strategy, and expert timing! Paareth walked right into it. Both companions probably received more volts of juice than they could handle. He stayed there, shaking from head to toe; energy surged through his body, up every nerve ending, before sinking him to his knees and breaking the cage circuit for good. On the floor, smoke rose from one, at least a medium-rare, Trandoshan.

Uncertainty gripped the rioters with both their ringleaders on the floor; that hurt. Wait, was he out cold? Someone wake him up! Courtyard Guard towers were training guns their way!

 

[Cletus T Durango]

ZAAAAP!!!

Suddenly energy surged through the circuits of the confused droid. He could see! Something had 'opened his eyes'!! The blinking battery light was gone, replaced instead with a little green battery icon. He still had no idea what that was about but he felt invigorated and alive! It felt like his 'blood' was coursing with lightening and all he wanted to do was zoom!

Cletus rolled into a standing position just as blaster bolts started. He used the discarded trays around him as a shield, though how long that would last was anybodies guess. It was no lightsaber after all! While he tried his best to protect as much of his green friend as he could, he noticed his buddy was sleeping on the job! That was just unacceptable!

Cletus began to sing another little ballad.

"And I turned twenty-one in prison doin' life without parole..."

He twirled the tray and gave the green guy a sharp tap on the head.

"No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried...."

He crooned on as a blaster bolt landed way too close to their head for his liking. He took his droid leg and kicked the big green one in the shoulder. He needed that smashing power! They were so close!

"Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied. That leaves only me to blame 'cause Mama tried!"


Paareth

 

[Paareth]

The Fifth Lock – The Rooks eat the Prawns.
Cletus T Durango

Prison Condition:

• Critical: The Multi-Level Central cantina has been overrun.
• Critical: Wings A through J are open!
• Critical: Prisoners have taken control of the Inner and outer Hallway
• Critical: The Prison Armory has been breached!
• Alert: Prisoners have breached the courtyard!

The prison caught fire, smoke billowing like a signal flare for every amateur reporter hunting HNN royalties. Guard tower snipers, lethal and efficient, surrounded the prison. Rooks on high took their fill, picking off rioters in the courtyard.

An inspiring song filled Paareth's sleeping ears, accompanied by percussive tray accompaniments beating in time.

The sharp kick of droid-not-droid insight woke him. Pushing himself up with his knuckles, he ran his hefty palm over his sleepy face and nodded to Cletus. A pained grin crept over his blackened cheeks, happy to see the droid alive. Blaster bolt kept landing nearby. He looked out at the prisoners running left and right through them, being herded like stray bantha to the last-chance saloon

'As he turned twenty-one in prison, doing life without parole...'

Spotting the big door labeled 21 ahead, a shelter from the towers shots; if Celtus let him, he picked up the droid and ran straight at it. Drawn by primal instinct, his sense for orchestrated violence took control. With the two ringleaders standing again, many others tried to follow, some making it, some not. A few shots landed close, one grazing his leg, but he kept pushing on, crashing his bruised body through the 21-gun salute door.

''No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried....'

Dodging the line of fire from several guards aiming, he shot right around the corner of the inner doorway. The big bruiser tried breaking the next door, but it was no good; his fists pounded pure Turadium. A sign read MAMA: Military Assault Munitions Arsenal. Maybe the droid had more programmed knowledge of this facility than he knew; perhaps he was the Mastermind here?

'Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied. That leaves only me to blame 'cause Mama tried!'

Denied, his pained form shook uncontrollably. No amount of bone-shattering fists could open the door. Mist-filled red eyes looked up, and he raised his fist to punch the large canister above him. A giant hand ripped it down and threw it aside.

Click.

The door opened. They'd hit the motherload: every gun a security team could want to boast about lay here, along with some confiscated pieces to match. Armor, shields, sniper rifles, stun batons, assault weapons, and shiny-looking gunslinger pistols lay scattered. Gear enough to force the real showdown that every good holovid ending deserved.

While the fight continued in the building behind, three guards sneaked up, raising their weapons at Paareth's back. It might take a souped-up gunslinger on crazy cage power, with an aim even sharper than his style, to spot them in time. Shoot a man in the back? That's no way to duel!

 

[Cletus T Durango]

As his noble steed lifted him once more they went crashing toward the armory. Cletus climbed onto the giants shoulder and lifted his hat in a sarcastic salute to the guards unable to stop them.

They had reached the armory and it was every cowboys dream! He was drawn to the pistols, slinging them on with a belt to match. A stun baton added to a shoulder strap and a shield completed the droids badass look. He was back baby!

He turned his body, hoping to catch a reflection of his handsome self in the shiny metal when he saw the low down dirty dogs about to shoot someone in the back. Not today pilgrim!

With a mechanical whirr the pistols flipped out of their holders, and bolts flew before the guards even saw it coming. Cletus was the fastest draw in the west.

“The names Cletus T Durango. The T stands for teach, as in lesson. You never shoot a man in the back cowards!”

He blew on the smoking pistol and in his mind he smirked, though of course a droid couldn’t do that. Of course that wasn’t really what the T stood for. Cletus had long fried that portion of his life out of his memory banks.

They were so close now Cletus could smell the freedom and he was ready to shoot his way out of this paper bag. He wanted to go home to the those beautiful country roads!

With a slight spark to the head and a jerky movement he started aiming and twirling his pistols, singing another of his favorites as he works.

“Country roads, take me home! To the place I belong!”

Paareth

 

[Paareth]

The Sixth Lock – A Higher High Noon
Tags: Cletus T Durango

Prison Condition:

• Critical: The Multi-Level Central cantina has been overrun.
• Critical: Wings A through J are open!
• Critical: Prisoners have taken control of the Inner and outer Hallway
• Critical: The Prison Armory has been breached!
• Critical: Prisoners have breached the courtyard!
• Warning: Prisoners are at the main gate!

"Hnnnnaaa," he grunted, showing eloquent appreciation as the droidslinger gunned down some backstabbers. Their bond had been built on wayward meal trays, unlicensed fists, chronometer corrections, and cage-cooked quick draws—something he couldn't have predicted. For the first time, the big guy seemed a bit less angry, only a bit.

Paareth's hands couldn't hold much, but he armored up, ripping suits in half and plastering them on his body. He strapped a shield to each arm and bashed them together. Prisoners streamed in for guns, some using them on the towers, but most of them lining up to make the best group of outlaws west of the Minntooine river.

The outlaws raised their weapons, and called out, "The Teacher! And the Tower!" Psyched for the final run, one offered a pack of Cigarras, Tholothian Reds, or Red-Tholos as they were known. To pocket for when they made it out, a victory cigar tradition, taken from a particular Varad spacer with their number.

Stepping back into daylight, they saw the other towers around them begin to burn, the scores being settled to rowdy applause. One massive courtyard gate remained between the mob and freedom, with guards, vehicles, turrets, and hovercraft barring the way, some high above their heads. It was the highest high noon a gunslinger might face, with no gaslighting to speak of this time.

The Trandoshan looked at the droid-not-droid one last time—they'd been through it.

"Tank," the brute seemed to approve. "Don't die," he said, waiting for Cletus's word before they charged.

The thousands of remaining prisoners charged at the gate, running into blasters, explosions, and rockets from above. Paareth, with his size, took at least two blaster hits, his armor taking a real pounding. He dodged right as the tank fired, leaped on its barrel, and wrapped his arms around it, starting to twist to a satisfyingly shattering conclusion.

"Country roads, take me home! To the place I belong!"

An offer of one last ride to the sunset, he reached down to cover or give his companion a familiar lift. The door controls by the gate were a target, but nobody was making it, dropping as they tried. Like a juggernaut, Paareth smashed his shields together and charged through anyone blocking the way, but so many shots came his way that the brute began to stagger. One shield ripped apart, leaving him holding the last bits of them for cover. Just five more feet to freedom!

They could almost taste the victory cigarra, so close...

 

[Cletus T Durango]

"Don't die,"

"Roger Roger!"

Cletus chirped at the big fellow in a familiar mechanical buzz and they were off. The group stormed through, with cheers and promises of cigars after their high noon victory. Cletus was lifted by his familiar steed and they rode in elegance. A heavy pouring of blaster fire waged down upon them, slowing the big green one and scattering those behind them. Shot after shot was missing the controls for the main gate but Cletus hadn't tried his hand yet.

He twirled his duel pistols from their holsters and took aim. Unlike most droids in his series he'd been outfitted with a better navigation and directional system, making his a dangerous shot. He fired and hit the mark, the gate controls started to fritz and a blaring new alarm sounded out. Cletus twirled the guns again and took out some of the guards in their way, easily laying them down. He knew his noble steed was injured but if they could just make it a little bit longer they would taste that sweet smokey cigar.

"Get along little doggie!!"

Paareth

 

[Paareth]

Seventh Heaven in one Victory Cigarra
Tag: Cletus T Durango

Time seemed to slow as the droidslinger raised his pistol for the decisive shot.

Hit or miss?

Hit.

Alarms blared as the great gate began to lift, its massive metal frame churning with a loud, rolling sound. Prisoners surged forward, thousands spilling out to their freedom and leaving behind a fiery inferno. Even the guards probably felt relieved that it was over.

Paareth struggled to get to his feet. Trandoshan regenerated, but not fast enough. He collapsed back into the dirt, things looking grim for the riotous rebels until he heard the word.

Doggie.

Certain onlookers smirked and chuckled until one dark green ball of rage slammed his fists down, swatting to crush the nearest heckler against the wall. He looked back at Cletus, letting out a low, throaty laugh-snort. The banter had worked.

Bounding after them, the great bulk of an alchemized monster pushed through to the streets of Coruscant, again to the front, remembering where they'd started in the dining hall swinging tables and meal trays. Prisoners high-fived, laughed, and joked as they filtered out to their freedom. Some offered words about where they could be found or who to call if anyone needed a place to lay low.

Quite a ride.

Paareth tried to pick up his victory cigarra without crushing it, his prize only slightly scorched by blaster fire, but had nothing to light it with. He grabbed a huge, burning chunk of the former tank from the floor, puffed away, and offered to light the same for the droid.

"Where to Teacher?"

Fin for Paareth

 

[Cletus T Durango]

"Where to Teacher?"

As Cletus puffed away at his victory cigar he did not realize that he was of course not breathing and thus not inhaling any smoke. His head piece sparked slightly as he and the green beast moved forward, out into the Coruscant vastness of city spaces. The lights were like small little victory signs and Cletus had but one thought on his newly freed mind.

"Tonight I'm gonna paint this town! So bring me two pina coladas! I want one for each hand!!

The droid started to sing another little tune and together they walked into the sunset like the end of any good western.