Log:Sharkfin Fury
A droid reprogramming goes wrong.
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Nylis(Storyteller), Na'luna
An absolute trash heap.
That's the best description of the complex, with trash slewn about the abandoned cybernetic installation facility turned into a spice den. All of the doors here are rusted heavily, creaking loudly each time the door opens and occasionally, an electrical malfunction causes a door to open out spontaneously, unless it is locked down. The front entrance leads into a lobby that has been repurposed with moldy furniture dragged in to make the main headquarters for the Electric Sharkfin Raiders. Along the secretary counter, several mostly used deathsticks can be found, with piles of giggledust and various other drugs.
The door to the right of the counter leads back to operating rooms, reconfigured for storage and bedrooms. At the end of the hallway is a room with several defunct droids, while a right turn leads into the administrators office, repurposed for the Electric Sharkfin Raider's new leader, Lorben Bovl; A middle aged Aqualish, with several cybernetic implants.
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Working along side of the various gangs and thugs on Nar Shaddaa is a potentially dangerous, but entirely common, almost necessary aspect of living on the Smuggler's Moon. Some, are more dangerous than others. Tonight, Na'luna has been contacted by the Electric Sharkfin Raiders, an up-and-coming gang of cybernetically enhanced spice dealers, and thrill seekers. The leader, Lorben Bovl, a middle aged Aqualish with multiple cybernetic implants has contacted Na'luna, with what appears to be a routine droid maintance request; Download the data on one of their droids, and then perform a memory wipe. While the Gearhead District is not the safest part of Nar Shaddaa, but it's certainly not the Ko Hentota District. The pay is agreeable, at least...
Na'luna walks with a security droid. It isn't enough to completely stop a gang from overwhelming her, but in the interrim, it's enough to keep most lone ne'erdowells away. Arriving at the gang's hideout on foot, likely having taken public transport to get there, the highly-recognizable, unusual twi'lek goes to exactly who the message said to go to first. "I'm the droid programmer," she says. "You have a droid for me to look at?" The SEP-1 security droid glances between the gang members, clearly calculating strategy should things go south, though it remains quiet.
The door creaks up when Na'luna signals her arrival, being greeted with a scraggly looking Togorian with matted, black fur and his right eye replaced with a cybernetic, as well as bearing a scar from brow to cheek. He squints at the Twi'lek at first, his lips parting to speak until Na'luna makes introductions and then he chuckles in a wheezing, croak of a laugh. "Well why didn't ya say so!" He chuckles, despite Na'luna... Literally having done just that. His left eye is heavily dilated, suggesting heavy spice use. He steps aside, allowing the two and her droid to step into the the spice den. Emptied bottles and cans of various alcoholic content, some not entirely consumed are spilled all over the floor of the den, with several old pizza boxes sprawled around the room as well. On the right of the room, several moldy couches have been circled around the old lobby with a busted viewscreen dangling from the ceiling, barely attached and displaying the current news. Three figures lay on the couches, sparsely conscious; A human woman, a twi'lek man and a zabrak man. The zabrak is entirely incapacitated, twitching from spice use. On the coffee table, between two empty pizza boxes is a bounty puck, displaying a bounty for a familiar looking Arkanian, by the name of Nylis Dosh. "We gotta yank that kriff head, gettin' the boss nabbed by NSec." The human grumbles to her twitching Zabrak friend. He doesn't respond. "Ya wanna hit a' the giggles?" The Togorian offers, throwing a thumb over his shoulder towards the secretary counter, repurposed as a spice distribution space.
"No, thank you," Na'luna says with a pleasant smile. "I better get to work before I partake of any recreational substances." She looks around. She sees a lot of organics with cybernetics, the bounty puck, and no droids that are obvious. "Speaking of," she says, looking around in case it's behind something or hiding, "where's this droid I'm supposed to be working on?"
Blinking with surprise, the Togorian seems startedly... And then grins, chuckling. "Yeah, yeah. Boss'd like that tood. Boss'd like ya, get shutta done, then chill." He offers in his craggly, gravely voice. "Down tha hall.... Straight down, she's 'n old beedee unit. Ain't none 'a us touched 'em in ages. Didn't know how ta wipe 'n download tha data. Complex shutta, ya know?" "Come on back 'n I'll have a deathstick for ya after." He murmurs, pointing down the hall as he speaks, and then he strides to scoop up one of the deathsticks on the receptionist desk and collapses onto one of the couches; Right on top of one of his zabrak friend.
Na'luna shoots him a smile and walks down the aforementioned hallway, security droid following. She manages to keep her composure, but anyone who can smell pheromones would smell that that's all just an act. This is certainly the shadiest job she's taken. She soon arrives in the room in question.
The button to open the door is pressed... And the door groans in response, not opening. Pressed again, another groan. Just as Na'luna is turning to react, the door creaks open. Several droids are sprawled around an old cybernetic implant room. A BB astromech dangles like a disco ball from the ceiling, with various other astromechs in varying states of having their insides ripped out sprawl around the room. And on the desk, the BD unit in question. The only droid that seems to be functioning. It chirps in binary, "Who are you?"
Na'luna steps inside. "My name's Na'luna," she says with a smile at the droid. "I'm here to take care of you. Are you doing well?" She steps over any droid parts on the floor, and feels like she's wading through a sea of cybernetic fodder as she approaches the BD-unit.
"Who are you?" The droid chirps again. "Who are you?" The BD appears to be malfunctioning heavily. "Hello, Na'luna." It finally processes the information, though the question presented about it's condition receives a series of negative chirps and whirrs.
Na'luna finds somewhere to sit and looks at the tiny droid. "Hi," she says, sweetly. Reaching out, she runs her fingers over the side of the droid's head. "You want to give me some diagnostics?" she asks. While it tries, she plugs in the data cable. The droid's data files begin copying to her datapad. She plugs in a data storage device to the top that she can hand off to the gangers.
"Who are you?" The droid asks again, and as Na'luna plugs into the droid, voices can be heard muffled down the hallway... At the sametime, a holographic display suddenly projects from the droid in front of Na'luna; A cloaked figure meets with a familiar Aqualish gang leader, Lorben Bovl. "But when 'r we gonna get tha shipment! We're gonna need it, if we wanna take on the Lothal Slugs!" The Aqualish complains in basic. "Just shut up, and do your part Bovl. The Zann Consortium will take care of the rest." Comes a feminine voice in response. The Zann Consortium... A long time rival of the Hutt Cartel. Dealing with them would be highly illegal on Nar Shaddaa, and could result in someone... Disappearing. Meanwhile, the voices down the hall are getting louder, and an Aqualish voice can be heard shouting, "ALONE??"
Na'luna looks at the door then the datapad. She rushes to the door and pulls off the control panel. She disconnects things so it can't be opened from either side. They HAVE to know the door is malfunctioning. It's not locked, it will just look very broken, now. She rushes back and kisses the sensor on the BD unit. "I'm so sorry," she whispers to it. She looks at the data transfer again. She taps her heel as she grips the side of the table. It's so close, already!
"I told you to watch her, you kriffin' moron!" The Aqualish voice calls out angrily, closer now down the hallway. The door panel on the other side beeps with an error. And then again. "Hey, girl... Open this door, will ya? Let's chat!" Another error. And then another. "Open the door!" The download is at twenty-seven percent, it's going... But slowly, due to the droids malfunctioning state.
Na'luna moves back to the door and puts the control panel back on. She pushes the button. Of course, there's an error. "Trying," she calls out. To be fair, she is trying. She pushes the button again. "Hey, what's the big idea locking me in?!" she calls. She pounds on the door. "Let me out!" She then backs away, looking at the progress again. She's largely expecting a sudden burst of progress for no good reason. Always the way with data transfers.
"Kriffin' door, look, back up we're gonna try 'n blow this shutta." The Aqualish calls out for her. Her efforts at disabling the door work. It's entirely malfunctioning, and it isn't opening unless she decides she wants it to. Seventy-three percent. The download could really hurry up about now, the sound of something scrapping in the hallway can be heard, something metallic being dragged.
Na'luna moves to the BD-unit and does a few things. First, she removes the holo-projector and associated speaker. Then she uses a pair of thin pliers to pull out each of the contact pins. She then puts them back where they should go. Nothing can play from the droid's holorecorder, now. It's also mute, so it can't speak to anyone...ever again. Na'luna's efforts take just long enough. The file transfer completes. She unplugs the data device from the top of her datapad and pulls the cable out. She plugs the data device directly into the droid's port. To be fair, the files are all there, so it will look like she managed to copy them directly. She unzips her coveralls and shoves her datapad against her stomach, sliding it under her tight shirt. When she zips it back up, it will be obscured by the loose fabric of her work coveralls. She takes cover behind the table and waits for the door to come down.
Download complete, just in time too. "Alright lady, back up from the door!" A familiar Togorian voice calls out from the otherside. A few moments later.. A powerful explosion rocks and shudders the spice den, the door in front of her erupting into a spray of shrapnel as razor sharp chunks of the door fly out towards her. And a few moments later, a few angry looking gangers step into the room. An apologetic looking Togorian, and a furious Aqualish with a blaster pistol in hand. As well as the human woman with a pipe, and a wookiee with a bowcaster. "Kriffin' door. Sorry 'bout that, girlie." The Togorian presents. "Enough with tha door, where's my droid?" The Aqualish demands, stomping over to where the BD is, and leaning in to squint at it. "Ya got the files?" He asks, darting a grumpy glare back at her.
"It should be transferred by now," Na'luna says, standing. She points to the data store. "Direct transfer. I hope it worked," she says, genuinely. "The droid won't talk to me." And that's ALSO true. Granted, she MADE it true, but it's true, nonetheless.
The Aqualish squints back at the droid, tapping on it a few times and then squints at Na'luna. "And it's wiped?" He asks, about the memory, straightening back up and scooping up the BD unit. "Alright, pay tha lady. We're finished here." He tells the Togorian. He winces and nods, looking ruefully back at her. "Sorry, guess we're gonna need ta do the giggles another time." He says, offering a credit chit to her. "See ya 'round!"
"I didn't get that far," Na'luna says. "I started the transfer, then you interrupted me." She does, however, take the credit chit. She stuffs it in a pocket and looks around, making her way toward the door. "A blaster will take care of its memory, if you don't care about re-using it," she suggests. "I'm gonna go, though." She turns and just starts walking toward the door. Her security droid follows her in a beat. Once she's out, though, she beelines for any taxi she can find. She's going to resurrect that BD-unit in another body with less defective memory, then take it to some kind of Huttese police, or at least a private security agency. The hutts will probably even pay her for her evidence, though they'll charge her to keep her anonymous, making sure they don't have to pay her. C'est la vie.
