First Reply Do HRDs Dream of Electric Sheep?

[The Fool]

Spoiler: SYNOPSIS

Aboard the Campania,
Outer Rim

Arkadi Cortez, a top lieutenant of the Crimson Dawn, sat behind his stolen, but magnificent, mahogany bureau aboard the luxurious barge the Campania and scanned the tall man with the long coat from head to toe while fiddling with his sumptuous, but stolen, holopen.

"Roman Hayato." Cortez said with a slight hint of disgust. The stench of cigarettes this 'investigator' brought with him had all but drowned the fougere fragrance of the lavish, but smuggled, perfume the lieutenant sprayed recklessly every half an hour in his quarters. Growing up in the Wetworks of Nar Shaddaa as a street orphan and reaching the heights of the criminal syndicate that was Crimson Dawn finally gave him the opportunity to erase the pungent smell of sewers he had been cursed to grow up in; also, he had been hooked to the documentaries by Dr. Kang, a notorious germophobe.

"That's my name." the investigator replied with a deep and slightly husky voice.

"You-" Cortez pointed his holopen at the man. "come recommended, my friend." he adjusted his chair closer to the bureau. "The Progredior Research Institute. You seem to have done a good job for them in the past."

"So why aren't you giving the contract solely to me?" Roman asked insolently.

"Well, first - I don't seem to dig your attitude." the Crimson Dawn lieutenant stated dryly and then with an obnoxious smirk added. "Crimson Dawn rarely, almost never, gives a job to a single person. Competition brings out the most out of people. Free market, baby."

"Forget that. You haven't been really covert in announcing your intentions out there. Droid's probably gone on the other side of the galaxy by now."

"She probably isn't." Cortez grinned nastily.

"She?" Roman raised an eyebrow.

"It's not just a droid, Hayato. She's a Human Replica Droid with a name and a conscious. Her name is Lydia and she's the best assassin model created - the Ascendant-0. A true Iskalloni prototype." he said and caught Roman's grimace at the mention of the insidious Iskalloni so he continued speaking as so not to get interrupted with...uncomfortable questions. "Well, apparently not the most loyal model and that's where you come in - acquiring back our property." he sighed. "Our usual go-to person, Deckard, retired. Might pay him a visit if you need tips."

"Got any leads?"

"LEADS? Ha! She is the best assassin model created, Hayato. She leaves no tracks behind!" Cortez said and added. "But a few...eyes of mine mentioned seeing her in the Underbelly entering a local brothel - Treasure Pleasure. Can start your investigation there."

To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.
​

Treasure Pleasure, Underbelly
Terminus

Or what remained of it.

Terminus PD had locked the area with the glowing yellow-black holobarriers and a platoon of cops filling out holopads describing everything they see and asking passers-by questions; the answers seemed scripted to a lie "I have never ever step foot in such a lowly place. It's just on my commute to work.".

Brandishing the counterfeit P.I license he easily gained access to the brothel. Terminus PD was renown for its corruption, it really wasn't that complicated entering a crime scene with the right credentials.

Dimly lit, even for a brothel, Treasure Pleasure's lighting was nearly all broken. Flashes of pink and red neon flickered occasionally but were it not for the set up police light projectors gleaming crystal white Roman would've probably lost himself in the blood bath. Polished tiles had become a river trough of colorful blood - the blood of every race representative unlucky to have been visiting the establishment when the massacre happened. Going further into the brothel where the police canvassing was still pending there were limbs scattered around and corpses lying lifeless on the ground.

Emotional homicide, he thought as he scanned the area, can't be my HRD, can it? Assassin models weren't supposed to be marauding reavers, neither should they be driven by emotion. Yet, he recalled Cortez's emphasis on best model and Lydia being a prototype. Rogue HRD? Glitch in the brain programming?

He continued investigating the genocidal crime scene.

 

[Sentiri]

Dried up.

That was the description Sentiri's old contacts had given her of her former business ventures on Terminus. A long time had passed since the Chiss woman had gone underground for the First Order. A long time still since she had left the Underbelly, called back from exile. A long time again since the resurgent Ascendancy fell to the wayside of ever-invading neighbors.

So a long time had passed. What she had built on Terminus could have lasted. There was always information to be bought, sold, and found here. There was no end to the crime, to the privileged who could be exploited. There were always jobs to be done. And she had left a trusted lieutenant in charge, someone who easily could have ruled her organization with ruthless efficiency. Sentiri's lieutenant could also have kept the status quo, eeking out a modest sum, keeping the presence without drawing attention. Sentiri had left no particular instructions for Rhéala, had given the human woman free reign to do as she pleased with a position that had endless possibility.

Dried up. And no trace of Rhé. So fine. The Chiss woman would have to start again. But where to start? The big crime syndicates might know something. Even though Sentiri's time on Terminus was intentionally setup to try and avoid a lot of the spotlight, her entry into the Underbelly was not a subtle one: decapitating a cartel's leadership and effectively replacing that leadership with her own. Whether they had tried to keep their head low after that or not, the big guns would take notice.

But she wasn't going to get something for nothing. And credits only opened so many mouths. Everybody wanted something. So, why not take a job that felt more like hiring out than getting roped in? Find some runaway, assassin droid? I've done worse Sentiri thought, looking through her binocs at the remains of a brothel.

"Let's get a closer look," she muttered to herself. Picking her way through the streets until she got to the no-longer-standing establishment. The Chiss woman brandished some credits to a cop that definitely had never seen so much blood. Weak-kneed fellow needed a caf, she told him as much, he agreed, she got in the door and started looking around.

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

Upon entry, he noticed, the kills were clean. Perfect, even. Head shot straight into the center of the poor Shistavanen's wolven head. Verpine shatter pistol if he judged right by the small but incredibly deep entry. He tossed the pen he used to measure the depth of the wound away before he saw the next victim. Near-human, security; small holes straight through an armor vest. Got to be a shatter. A typical assassin's weapon. All of the victims seemed murdered the same perfect way right up until one of the prost's booths - that's when things drastically changed. The assailant, which Roman suspected to be the HRD, went full berserk.

The shatter pistol was switched to a cold weapon. Vibroblade, perhaps. Sliced and diced the rest of the brothel like fillets. The efficiency was replaced by complete overkill. Yes, the cuts were absolutely surgical. Went straight for the weakspots and carved limbs off with one swing each but there was a lot of unnecessary chopping. Heads were rolling. Evidently. So what makes that booth so special? What changed? Roman frowned deeply in thought as he retraced back to the entrance just when a Chiss woman entered with a confident but cat nimble step; dangerous. The detectives were gone so...

"Who the hell are you?" he asked plainly with his deep voice as he scanned the woman from head to toe. There was a visible readiness in his body language.

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

Sentiri's first profession was as a police officer. In her youth, she had been better with running numbers, writing scripts to browse surveillance, slicing into files criminals thought were secure. She hadn't really done much field work until the last months she had spent with House Sabosen's Internal Security Bureau. But since, field work had been ever present; whether with the First Order's ISB, her own organization in the Terminus Underbelly, or back with the CEID. Even the times she tried to hide away in an office, something would always come along to drag her outside. At first, she hated having to leave the comfort of her computer-nests.

Not anymore. Sentiri relished every opportunity to get out, get her hands dirty, as the human colloquialism went. She no longer had an organization backing her. The Chiss woman was operating independently for the first time in her life. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was being on the move, being active, leaving the nest for the hunt.

This hunt appeared to be a bloody one. Precision kill after precision kill at first. The kind of precision at a consistency that only a machine could do. Sure, when in a rhythm, a skilled organic assassin might be able to strike precisely in succession within the same species and with enough time. But this was a brothel. The quarters were cramped, there wasn't a lot of space, and there were numerous species. No organic could adapt to such a variety of circumstances at as fast a pace as these kills had been made.

And then there was the butchery. The only link between this droid assassin and an organic one was the instability. Some psychopathic killers were capable of shutting off a portion of their brain, entering a trance like state where they accomplished insane tasks at insane rates, but they always ended up breaking down. The sudden change in attack pattern looked almost exactly like that. She would have to take a closer look to identify whether the killer was even the same person.

A voice intruded on her thoughts before she could lean down and examine a sliced up body. "You must be the other eye hired by Cortez," Sentiri said, getting straight to the point. No need to waste words for the man, especially as tense as the human was. And irritated. "Sentiri," she pointed a thumb lazily at herself.

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

Roman peered at the newcomer with a rather unwelcome shade on his face. He had become so used to running lone wolf that he scrutinized any form of 'partnerships'. Crimson Dawn's way of doing contractor business left a sour taste in his mouth but the money was too good to pass. Tibanna gas prices were going up and his last travel through a nebula wrecked more than a dozen of costly parts; also, no more Rodian fast food.

So he'd been here for what? Fifteen minutes? And already another investigator had arrived. Guess that recommendation went so far. Oh, well. For a Chiss, Sentiri sure lacked the irritating accent. As a matter of fact, her Basic sounded flawless. No prolonged hisses at every word with an 's'. Too much outsider influence for a normal Chiss, he thought. This was Terminus, so no surprises if she'd been an orphan raised by humans; who knows.

"Took you long enough." the ex-commando muttered sarcastically. "Roman Hayato." he introduced himself reluctantly and finally dropped his gaze away from her and back to the scene at hand. In reality, he was looking at nothing but was contemplating how to run this shindig with another dick in this mess.

"I ain't taking no pay cuts." he said sharply before adding plainly.

"What do you see?"

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

Yeah, she got it. Roman didn't have to say the words: "I prefer working alone." The sentiment was written all over his face and body language. She didn't need to have an emotional awakening to pick up on his position either. There was a time when Sentiri preferred working alone too. That had changed, evolved really. Before, she always had the support of an organization. The woman would use the walls of that organization as her comfort zone and then isolate within the group. Subconsciously, she had sought the approval of her superiors within those groups to make up for the lack of self-confidence she felt.

But after she had finally undergone the emotional awakening she had desperately needed after all that time among humans, she had realized that the only approval she needed was her own. Then, Sentiri separated herself from the necessity of a large group to feed her ego and moved on to seeking out company mostly for her own personal satisfaction. People were fascinating. Why not study them just as she studied any other subject she found fascinating? Maybe that's why the Chiss woman had chosen to come back to investigative work, rather than all of the other things she could have done for the information she desired. She became an investigator again to satisfy her own curiosity.

"Don't worry. I need this done. My own reasons." Emotional awakening or not, Sentiri was still not one for idle chitchat. "We know who did the first part." The woman pointed to the clean kills behind her. "Consistent with an assassin droid. But this...," she trailed off as she finally squatted down next to a body, sliced to pieces. She grabbed a relatively clean piece of rubble and picked at the dismembered corpse, lifting bits and examining the wounds. "No organic species could do this. Anything powerful enough wouldn't have proper leverage for these cuts." She imitated an upward slicing motion, something only needed by a smaller being. "And the slices would be ragged." The Chiss woman considered for a moment. "Sith maybe. But not consistent. Not enough gloating."

Sentiri stood back up and tossed her makeshift prodding tool. She wiped her hand on her black slacks. "Had to be the droid." She looked around the space, hoping something would jump out for another clue. "Places like this always say they don't keep footage. But someone is always watching. There should be a camera feed. Backups and linkouts too. I'll see if there's anything salvageable."

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

"Not many witness Sith wrecking havoc and live to tell the tale." Roman observed audibly as he followed Sentiri to the back office of the establishment. Whoever the hell she was, she didn't seem rookie at all; but he'd guess that already in her posture. It carried confidence with a solid backing. No inflated ego, no exaggerated self-belief. Just experience.

Roman accessed one of the few computer terminals in the room and sliced his way through the cheap firewalls. They really needed better privacy security. Too late now, he thought. He browsed through the data until he found what he was looking for - the work schedule. Bringing up a window of the punch cards of today on the side, Roman cross checked both data specifically for the employee working in booth 14, where the absolute massacre began.

Everyone punched in to work today, as usual, he thought, but this erratic behavior doesn't make sense; this emotional collapse occurred in that booth. Had to. Roman looked at the schedule again, searching for the name on booth 14 - one Freya. Near-human, blonde, specializing in BD- yeah, whatever. The investigator skimmed through the different specializations and came to the conclusion Treasure Pleasure offered special services that clearly crossed the legal line. It was tailored for the sick minded - white-collared examples of society, with a smart wife, two kids and a big house on the higher levels of the cityscape, above the clouds but aroused by vile carnal and violent desires. He wondered how many 'accidents' had Treasure Pleasure covered up when an employee disappeared.

"Booth 14, where the genocide started has one Freya working there today. Vic's list isn't complete yet, given all the body parts and unrecognizable faces but she doesn't seem to be on it, yet." Roman said toneless and asked. "Got anything on the cams?"

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

The cams were decently well hidden in the local Net-system. Decently enough to satisfactorily hide them from a lazy police officer. Plenty of shunts to make the feeds seem like they originated from outside the local system which gave deniability if an officer was less lazy. But everything was just pinged from a remote location back to the source, which was Treasure Planet itself.

Voyeurism was still a new concept to Sentiri. After all, up until a few years ago, the Chiss woman had done everything in her power to stay away from people. They were a means to an end if they were anything at all. Lately, that mindset had changed. She enjoyed observing people, determining their motivations, peeling back their layers.

But this? Watching bits of the camera feed scroll by was a whole other level of people watching. She wasn't sure what was valuable for social analysis. A part of her felt... well Sentiri wasn't quite sure. A grimace crept onto her face as she tried to sort out these illogically fascinating emotions. In the back of her mind, she knew that once the recording reached a certain point, everyone there would be dead. The Chiss woman was practical. Dead people were dead, they couldn't care about being watched because the dead had no capacity to care. So why did she feel... not quite right peering into the past, private lives of all these doomed beings?

Those feelings faded immediately as she got to the portion of the recording that she needed. Sentiri compartmentalized her thoughts for later. A lithe woman, fully clothed and hooded in stark contrast to most of the other females in the establishment, entered the front door. A blaster pistol came out and the woman started clinically targeting and shooting the clientele and service alike. Just as the clothed woman got into range where Sentiri might be able to make out her face, the feed to that camera cut and static was all that remained. Each camera cut in sequence down the length of the hall, through each room the woman entered. Then would come back

"She's equipped with an EM interference field. I estimate any electronics within 12 feet would be inert or disabled. Matches the description Cortez gave us, but can't make out specifics."

Sentiri located the cam feed attached to booth 14. "There's Freya," Sentiri announced. The escort looked nervous upon entering the room. Timestamped fifteen minutes before the HRD arrived. "She knows trouble is coming." The girl couldn't stop pacing, obviously not doing anything to get ready for her shift. As soon as the droid entered the facility, Freya looked out the door to her booth and ran in the opposite direction. "Freya might have gotten out. We should try and follow. If the trail's cold, find her place and dig around."

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

A frown carved through Roman's face as he looked at the holovid material and listened to Sentiri's narration and it rang true. Who else would be so lethal, last seen here and overly prepared for committing a massacre without leaving tracks behind. Despite the hood, the both gut and logic agreed this was their target - Ascendant-0 model assassin HRD. Lydia. He didn't venture further into questioning the motives behind people naming droids sentient names.

Sick galaxy.

"That's a rare find, even on the black market. Costs a lot, too." Roman noted at the EM interference field and watched Freya's frantic body language on the feed before it turned to white noise. She knew very well what was going to happen. "This is Freya's address, according to the employee records. Let's go."

Spoiler: CUTSCENE

The universe is a meat grinder and we're just pork in designer shoes, keeping busy so we can pretend we're not all headed for the sausage factory.​

Couple of blocks down, not surprisingly, the area was still the same flashing neon-signed, dirty and ruthless streets like that back at the Treasure Pleasure. The Underbelly of Terminus, the hotspot for all scum and villainy on the planet. Only one rule existed here - that of the jungle. Prey and predator, no other class existed and none can function without the other. It was an ecosystem as old as time and existed everywhere. The only difference? The Underbelly had no facades to hide it with.

The fourty fourth floor of an apartment building reeking of sweat and shit was where the pair of investigators found themselves. It probably was one of the better ones in the immediate area. Apartment Seven Three Seven.

Roman swore the carpet on the floor's hallway hadn't been cleaned since the Gulag Plague hit the galaxy. Sure, not the dirtiest places he ever found himself into but definitely a place that brought back obnoxious memories. Freya's apartment, much like the rest, had an ancient door mechanism. Yes, a card reader and a handle. The lack of rust meant someone at least worked as a handyman in here.

He mulled over whether he preferred just ramming through the door or knocking.

"Want to knock?" Roman asked his unusual blue companion.

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

The walk was quiet. At least between the two detectives. There wasn't all that much to say. They were united in purpose, but little else. Though Sentiri was enjoying watching Roman's contempt for her presence in the investigation gradually shift into something that might resemble respect, however begrudging. Maybe she was imagining his shift in tone toward her. The Chiss woman was still new to the whole human emotions thing. But he at least appreciated her work enough to not butt heads at the suggestion for their next lead. A man who was confident enough in himself to know when to defer to someone else's judgement was a rare thing to find among those who worked alone. Sentiri figured that his ability to cool his own ego earned Roman some respect from her too. Maybe they would have more to say to each other when this was over. Maybe not.

The streets were as loud as they always were: a constant din of cluttered noise, distant sirens that raised and dipped, angry shouts between partners-turned. Slums never change. Clean-up missions might come through, knock all of the dilapidated structures down, gentrify a neighborhood with something shiny and new. But the slums never went away. They just picked up and moved somewhere else. Sentiri didn't waste time feeling bad for all the people living in such circumstances. She'd spend a lifetime pitying every destitute person on Terminus. She'd spend several lifetimes pitying them all galaxy-wide.

The apartment building was definitely well-used. The escort had a roof over her head, which was more than some could say, but everything was dated; maybe centuries old, may more. Date was a tough thing to determine on Terminus without some atomic-dating equipment. Arriving at the door to the escort's rooms, Sentiri looked the entrance over for a second. She tried the handle and the door slid easily open.

"Gentleman first," the Chiss woman said with an obvious hint of sarcasm. Sentiri waved a gesture beckoning Roman to precede her into the apartment while she pulled a blaster from a shoulder gun harness concealed beneath her black jacket.

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

He scoffed, rolled his eyes and drew his signature vornskr revolver from a shoulder gun harness, not unlike Sentiri's, beneath his dark long coat. With a well-trained silent step, despite his size, Roman stepped into the apartment lightly; his finger instinctively reaching for his trigger. The living room, judging by the silence, implied there was no one home. Canvassing the apartment from top to bottom, he deduced this was nothing more than a single bedroom apartment. Living room basically being the bedroom, too, and the corner to the left most likely led into the kitchen and the bathroom. The height of the roof was small, as it was usually with these old buildings, and the walls faded colors tried inducing the feeling that the place was more spacious that it actually was. A few cushions, a bed, a small holoTV and a big mess. Clothes, paper books and all sorts of items you'd find in an apartment that were almost never used or touched except once. Kipple, he recalled someone describing it as.

Yet, not the natural order of kipple. Intentional; someone had left in a hurry- Roman didn't catch the laser sight till it was too late. It was almost his last mistake. Deadweighting to the side, the sniper bolt grazed his triceps flaring his pain sensors.

"Down!!" he yelled at Sentiri just as another bolt came seeking the other target in the apartment.

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

Sentiri stabilized her left-shooting hand with her right and then entered the apartment after Roman. She just as quickly lowered her blaster as they made the briefest of sweeps. There wasn't much room in any of the few rooms there were. There was nowhere to hide either. Thus, there was no one there. The Chiss woman holstered her blaster. She was disappointed, but not surprised. With luck, Freya or whomever had rifled through Freya's belongings had left something behind for them to follow. Stuff was littered all over the apartment. Despite not being the first to the stuff, chances were still around fifty percent.

Since Roman was already looking around the living area, Sentiri figured she should start with the adjoining rooms. An apartmnt of this size meant a closet of a bathroom and a kitchenette. She had just started to move towards the corner when- ...zzzzZat!

The first blaster bolt annihilated the window. Sentiri didn't have eyes on it but her response time was fast enough. She dove for the corner doorway as a second bolt-- ...zzzzzzZat! -- splashed into the wall she had been standing in front of. The former operative quickly scrambled up to her hands and knees, ensuring no part of her was visible to the window, then turned and slid along the wall, stopping just before the edge, carefully tucking herself out of harm's way while still allowing her the ability to peer around the corner should she stick her neck out.

Sentiri looked over in Roman's direction. She had heard his warning shout as she was diving, so the first bolt must not have killed him. Yet. "You good?

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

The laser dot disappearing and the sound of engines roaring away meant the immediate threat was gone. Fucking droid, he thought to himself gritting his teeth in pain and shuffling into the inside of his coat. If it doesn't retire me first, I swear I will bring it back in fucking pieces. A syringe materialized in his hand and he quickly stabbed it straight into the wound growling inaudibly.

"Fucking A." he replied to the chiss lady. It hurt as hell but the stim would numb the pain and his quarter Firrerreo blood should do the rest. "Caught an eye on the sniper?" Had to be the damn droid, Lydia. Who else would be waiting in ambush? Lucky little shit, ain't I? Iskelloni assassin model droids dont usually miss, do they? ...Could it have been deliberate?

"Sounded like they fled." Roman said still lying down on the floor, just in case.

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

The sound of engines firing filled the small apartment. The source of the sound was close. Someone must have been waiting for interlopers into Freya's apartment. They were a good enough shot to nick Roman. Sentiri saw the man insert a syringe needle directly into the fresh wound on his arm. Had there been another shooter, the shots would have been coordinated, and Sentiri would likely have a mark to match. But the shooter had needed a spare moment to reacquire Sentiri as a target.

She stood from her crouched position and stalked out to the now shattered window. Looking out, there was no sign of whatever speeder had been parked there, and if anyone had been witness to the shots fired, they were nowhere to be seen. Which meant no ID on their shooter. That led to the obvious question: who shot at them? "They're gone." The Chiss woman holstered her blaster once more. She glanced over to the human investigator. "Had that been the droid, we'd be dead. So who took the shots? Freya? Bad aim for a murder droid. Good aim for a prostitute." Sentiri glanced about once more. "We still need to look around the apartment. Can you manage?"

Roman seemed to be good enough but Sentiri would wait for him to respond anyway. Whether he was or wasn't, her plan was the same. Look around, find some tie between Freya and Lydia. "I'll take a look around the bathroom and kitchen first. Let me know if you find anything out here."

The kitchen was unremarkable. The food was sparse and what was there was overly processed, marginally nutritious, and all around boring. There were few tools and utensils. The disarray seemed mostly like the kind of every day disarray of someone who didn't really care about their diet, or didn't have the time or the credits. Maybe all of the above. Sentiri entered the bathroom next. It had the essentials: a simple sink, toilet, and stand-up 'fresher just large enough for single person use. A vanity had been squeezed into the only free space, it's surface and drawers stuffed to capacity with feminine beauty products. Nothing was surprising or out of place considering the girl's profession. Sentiri checked the cabinet over the sink last. Some basic hygiene items were joined by an equal amount of empty death stick containers.

The former operative nearly walked away when something caught her eye. There was only a single prescription bottle. The pills were quite nearly gone. One look at the label confirmed she had found something unusual. Right next to the bottle was a well-used tube of an anti-inflammatory cream. Back out to the living area, Sentiri checked on Roman and posed an odd sort of question. "What escort has an electronic implant?" The woman tossed her would-be partner the bottle of pills. "Prescription for immunosuppressants specifically for the installation of subcutaneous electronics. And this..." she held up the tube... "indicates that the implant is near the surface. Maybe a port. Usually consumers desire personal augmentation for their personal pleasure. The girls? Not so much. Some girls have sponsors that pay for augments if the buyer wants something specific, but not a place like Treasure Planet. So how did this impoverished escort get something so high-tech?"

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

"I will be fine." Roman replied and dragged himself up with a muffled groan. Freya can't be a coincidence, he thought, had to be tied somehow to the damn droid. I'd be dead if the shooter was Lydia but who else? If I am right - shot wasn't from too far, near enough that even an idiot could've popped me better. Missed on purpose? Never heard of assassin droids and warning shots. Prototype, Cortez mentioned, no? This shit's turning into another brain wreck.

As Sentiri left to inspect the kitchenette and bathroom, Roman investigated the living slash bedroom. Nothing really took his attention, as a matter of fact most of the stuff looked like they had been in their disorganized state even before Freya allegedly fled this apartment. Only the knocked flower pot and trail of clothes left behind certainly implied there was a quick packing and subsequent escape. But why? Freya knew trouble was coming, knew Lydia would be coming so it had to be planned. Why the hurry then? Made no sense, she would've packed prior to the - No. Couldn't have been planned, Freya would simply not show up to work. Lydia informed Freya, or maybe implied to her of her actions. Fuck. Why the hell would an HRD go rogue, tangle with a random sentient and massacre the sentient's unfair employers? Freya's more than just a prost...to the HRD, in some way. Nuts.

The extremely silent steps of his Chiss partner surprised him from behind and pulled him out of his thoughts. Roman caught the bottle of pills she tossed at him and read the label which Sentiri summarized. He looked up at the woman as she pondered the findings and presented her questions. Mulling over it, he felt as if he was hitting his head at the brick wall with the lack of clues and their only lead vanished. Wait.

"That's it; sponsor." Roman said, his grip on the bottle tightening. That's why Freya had been to work! Had to be there for her client to come. A specific client and probably the fucking target of that massacre. "If we assume Freya and Lydia are tied together somehow, there has to be someone tying them together. The target of the massacre. Maybe the implant's sponsor. Couldn't have been planned, otherwise she would've packed prior to the sting but Freya knew what was coming." Wonder if she dreaded her sponsor more than the HRD. "We're out of leads anyway. Have you got the bookings from Treasure Pleasure? See who got Freya booked today around the time of the mass murder."

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

Sentiri took out her datapad. She had inserted a shunt into the brothel's computer system prior to leaving the establishment. The shunt enabled a remote connection which would then load anything available directly to each of their pads. The woman still felt, well, she wasn't sure how to describe the feeling beyond uncomfortable, about having access to some of the files. The lingering sensation was strange. She had worked on plenty of cases over her lifetime, even some recently where she had to dig into the personal lives of the dead. So what was her issue with these prostitutes?

The investigator pushed those thoughts aside as the search query yielded results. "Karn Yoffehrik. The brothel kept records on its clientele. Not too detailed, no address, but enough for a business to know what to expect from returning patrons. Charges include hourly rate, loyalty discounts earned, accessories like alcohol or use of onsite materiel, damages accrued. Karn has seen Freya once a week for fourteen months. He never accrued additional charges past the hourly rate. All charges were paid through an account. Checking now."

Following a routing number associated with a payment account was simple enough. Disregarding the legality of accessing someone's personal credit account, there generally wasn't much difficulty there either. Some straightforward slicing before total access. The trick was the status of the account and whether that account bounced off of anything else. An account could be set up with false identification information. If that was the case, the next step would be to follow the origination of the deposits. But deposits could be made using untraceable raw creds. Even worse, some planets allowed a quasi-pawn system for accounts that accepted gems, jewels, and semi-precious metals for a line of currency or as collateral on a loan. The holder of such an account might check for stamps and markers on the item if the item has them, but that information wouldn't be shared when it came to the transfer of credits. Even worse is when a shell corporation made deposits into an account, which was just another layer in the search chain likely to come to a dead end.

The only way to tell was to follow the lead.. "All deposits made by Chainlink Industries, Limited. They're labeled as a electronic chip and wiring solutions manufacturer. Their corporate office and manufacturing facilities seem to be in the same complex. Shall we?"

The Fool​

 

[The Fool]

We shall.

Spoiler: CUTSCENE

Seemingly more prepared than Roman for the case, Sentiri put two and two together and got the pair their next lead to a case which got colder by the minute. Out of the gutter of the Underbelly of Terminus heading to another gutter - the Industrial complex, Roman wasn't blessed with a short enough trip to keep awkward silence from festering.

IN-CUTSCENE//

En route towards their latest and only lead, the investigator found himself driving impatiently in traffic. He slid down the window to light yet another cigarette but knew the nicotine wasn't helping, Roman had to venture into socializing. Don't get him wrong, he could socialize. He was no edgy s.o.b but he rarely found good company. Roman couldn't count the times he'd been called rude, disrespectful and tactless. Cynical as hell; and with Sentiri? He doubted there was anything they could talk about, they already seemed far too different - she came to him as extremely methodical, a book worm. And he? He was unorthodox, a temper ridden nut job. But who could blame him? It's what you get molded into when you were a veteran commando for a terrorist organization leading unconventional warfare against the First Order during the Great Alliance-First Order War. One had to be unorthodox. Especially when fighting the overwhelming power of Imperials. A good ol' Space Dave vs. Space Goliath.

So yeah, he had to talk.

"You don't work for Cortez." he shot straight in. "Too well-cut of a sapphire to work for a goon like that."

Was he certain? Brain said no, gut said yes. The eternal strife of logic against instinct. The rational against the irrational.

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

"I don't work for anyone but me," Sentiri replied to The Fool . Her first instinct was to leave it at that. What else was there to say? What else did he need to know? She looked over at the man and was silent a few moments. Roman seemed like he was ready to jump out of his seat and start yelling at traffic for just being traffic. Sentiri never could understand why traffic triggered people into fits of rage. Traffic was, by design, congested. Order took time to process. Chaos could be faster, easier, but always more dangerous. Over the course of the Chiss woman's observations of human behavior, she found a significant percentage of humans would willingly put themselves in the path of danger simply for the sake of "feeling alive." Thrill seekers was the term they used. To Sentiri, that desire to endanger oneself was inherently flawed. After all, no matter how small, a certain percentage of those thrill seekers would meet the end they were so narrowly attempting to avoid. So what was it about chaos that was so tempting that the avoidance of it could itself bring madness?

Another thing to file away for further investigation.

Sentiri looked away out into the sea of concrete, durasteel and neon. They had been silent for a few moments before she spoke again. Better to have idle conversation than yelling at traffic. "I used to have my own slice of the underbelly on Terminus. Level with Cortez. Maybe higher. We were independent. No big organization looking over my shoulder. I left. My second said she would take care of things while I was gone. We kept in touch but lost contact awhile back. Once I freed up, I came out to check on things. Organization is gone. My second is gone. Accounts are nonexistent. I've been here for a few weeks and haven't turned up anything. Cortez must know something. We were competition at our peak. But I wasn't going to pay him for information. So I took this job instead. He'll give me what I need. One way or another."

The Chiss woman left out a lot of the story. Like how she had come to own that slice of the underbelly, plenty of names missing, no timeframe. Just enough information to satisfy Roman's curiosity but not enough to give herself away. She had spent a fair amount of time in this chunk of space. There weren't all too many Chiss so far from the Ascendancy. She had done well to remain inconspicuous while out here. But the pieces were still there to be put together if someone had enough of the story. Sentiri wasn't sure she cared if any of her past got out. But maybe it was too soon. Find Rhéala first. Figure out what happened. Then worry about the next steps.

"And you?" Sentiri asked, playing along with Roman's distraction. "You under the thumb of some cartel? Or do you just do this for the kicks?"

 

[The Fool]

He listened to her despite continuing his half-act, half-honest aggravation at the traffic ahead of them; she said a lot of words but she ultimately said nothing. Roman accepted she was more than the eye caught, definitely, and more than her short story portrayed her as. Sentiri had almost confirmed that. He just couldn’t figure out what more there was to here but maybe he didn’t need to. Why would he? Best case scenario, they bring back Lydia and they part ways...most likely forever. You rarely catch people like Sentiri in the midst of the grit. Nah, they got their pawns to do that; moving them on the board trying to check mate the opponent in this eternal struggle for...whatever. Prestige? Hell, if Roman knew.

“Neither.” he finally replied after swearing at a Rodian turning right without using his blinder. “Contractor. Solve your problems for a paycheck.” and that was that. The past was the past and he left it there, even if it festered in his mind, even if it dictated him to live the way he did no. No ideals, no cause, no purpose. Cayla had made sure of that. Roman pluckeda holocard from inside his long coat and flicked it at Sentiri. It read ‘Roman Hayato, problem-solver’ and a contact number. “I am mobile, but mainly work in the Outer Rim.” soliciting wasn’t forbidden, so why not?

After a pause, he added inquisitively. “Chiss so far from home usually need a tour guide ‘round these parts.” Heck, if she didn’t require his problem-solver services, she did look good enough for something else. He never expected to find a blue-skinned, red eyed lady attractive; crazy the things men think about in the midst of traffic.

Sentiri

 

[Sentiri]

Sentiri considered the card momentarily before pocketing it. They were both careful people, in their own ways. Neither of them let on too much, dancing around the one or two words that would give a clue as to their identities or pasts. Old enemies weren't worth digging up. She'd rather leave the past in the past. But no matter how far into the distance the past became, it always seemed to find a way of placing reminders whenever you least expect.

So the Chiss woman would relent. At the very least, a detail might satisfy Roman's curiosity. At worst, a detail might put another target on her back. And she wasn't likely to stick around long enough for that target to turn deadly. If anything, she had been far enough removed from any untoward acts that her involvement in them could be downplayed or outright dismissed. She had left her post with the First Order before they're conflict began with the Galactic Alliance after all. She had no responsibility in any acts of war and, as a result, was absolved of any crime the interplanetary government had committed after her departure.

Of course, not everyone would concede that point.

"I spent years among the southern systems. From here to Bakura. I left before things escalated in the area." Those statements provided an area of influence and a timeframe. Enough information for the investigator to piece together what he would need to know should he want to look. Sentiri was unsure how much remained of the old First Order. They had been decimated by the war and, though some of the faction still remained, the rest were scattered to the stars. The former Deputy Director of Intelligence didn't feel responsible for that loss either. Her contributions would not have spared their defeat. Sentiri would feel terrible if any of her direct subordinates or friends had perished in the conflict. She had grown close with many. Jude, Val, Kara, Sage, Marzena. But their doings after Sentiri left were their own making, not hers.

"There's the complex," she said, pulling herself out of her brief reverie as the square of office buildings and manufacturing constructs rose out over the skyline. "I'll follow your lead."

The Fool​