Ask Plot Direct Deposit

[V3PO]

Corellia at night was really no better than Corellia during the day. A permanent cloud of smog clung to Coronet City like a sweaty t-shirt. The air was dense and humid, unlike the cooler mountainous cities in the northern hemisphere, and all of this was exacerbated by the large body of water the city sat upon. Vee-Threepio decided, almost immediately after leaving the spaceport, that he distinctly disliked the planet. The moisture in the air was making his joints rust and was filling his olfactory sensors with an overwhelmingly unpleasant odor not all that unlike a Hutt's defecation.

Wheeling next to him down the street, a black-plated R2-unit whistled something profane in Binary. A passing Aqualish must have heard the droid and understood, because he jerked his head to look at them as both droids waddled by. "I quite agree, Artoo," Veepee said. "Once we nab the florescent meatbag on the bounty puck, we'll make certain she suffers for bringing us to such a dreadful place. We've not been here ten minutes and I already need an oil bath."

Both droids were bound for the central bank of Coronet City. According to the bounty puck, a human female calling herself "Buzkill" had gone and robbed the bank by hacking into its systems. And, because the Corellian police were far too incompetent to handle the job, it fell to the droids to apprehend the hacker and make her pay for her crimes. One way or another, Veepee was now personally motivated to give her a new appreciation for her pseudonym. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song rarely visited the Core Worlds, but at the report of a new bounty, and an offer from the Guild, she couldn’t resist a second longer. With her father’s ship, renamed the Phoenix to honor Clan Wren, she traveled to the industrial wasteland of Corellia in search of this bounty, a woman by the name of “Buzzkill.” The name had enough edge to cut through steel.

But not Beskar. Song would make sure this “Buzzkill” was taken into her custody, just like the rest of her previous bounties.

The Mandalorian was starting to rack up a reputation in the Guild, and she hoped by capturing this bounty, she might finally move up into the ranks. First as an Initiate, then as a Tracker. It was only a matter of time before she reached the Guild’s peak, not only to give her late brother River the honor he deserved, but to gather enough influence and contacts to track down his killer.

With a vengeful hand, she would bring River justice, and peace in death.

Song wandered the Corellian streets, ignoring the occasional, skeptical glance. In her full armor, a sight seldom seen in the Core, she figured a few city folk would be suspicious of her. Not that she cared. The Mandalorian hoped to be in and out of the city, and the planet, with Buzzkill in tow. First things first, she had to start at the beginning.

Square one: the central bank of Coronet City.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

Song arrived outside Coronet Central Bank to a spectacle. A pair of bank guards were outside the front entrance doing their best to keep a pair of black-plated droids from entering; but their efforts seemed to be failing.

"Look, shiny," said a fat kark of a guard. He had his night stick raised like it would do anything against Vee-Threepio's titanium plating. "I don't make the rules. No unaccompanied droids inside the bank."

"Pardon me, sir, but we're not children," the protocol droid protested. "If you organics spent half as much time vetting each other as you did droids, then maybe your bank wouldn't have gotten robbed in the first place!"

"Hey, tin-can!" shouted the other guard: a snotty, sniveling human with the face of a rat. "My partner's been nice to you, but I'm runnin' out of patience! Take a hike!"

Veepee didn't hear most of what the second guard said because his processors were stuck on "tin-can." Almost instinctively, the droid's hands changed into a myriad of tools and weapons; and he was intent on using every one of them on these guards until they let him through.

"Tin-can?" Veepee said. "Officer, in approximately five seconds I intend to angle-grind your face like a botched weld, retaining only your eyebrows to de-fluff my ankle joints. Would a tin can do that?"

It was into this disaster that Song found herself walking. And her choices could only make the situation better or much, much worse. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

As Song approached the Coronet Central Bank, she spotted four figures busy arguing on the marble steps. For a moment, she thought the entrance was blocked for investigation, but at closer inspection, she realized two of the four strangers were droids. A 3PO-series protocol droid painted black, with blood red eyes, and an R2-series astromech. Knowing common law, droids were rarely allowed in anywhere alone.

To her, it was a stupid custom. Nothing less than segregation.

Song wasn’t particularly mannerly towards droids, but she had met one or two on her many hunts and misadventures that showed more human qualities than some humans themselves. Was it poor programming, or faulty wiring? Didn’t matter to her. Hell, she had even heard stories of droids as rebel leaders, or heroes in the old Rebel Alliance.

Ridiculous as it was, Song decided to step in and do them a favor.

For both, really. The protocol droid seemed incredibly aggressive, and by the tone of its voice, and its armored chassis, she had a feeling it would make good on its word. In the end, she was saving someone’s life by stepping in.

“Hey!” said Song once she reached the entrance, and glanced over to the guards. “Sorry, guys. The droids are with me. Friends of the Guild.”

She flashed one of her Guild badges in hopes of persuading the guards to let them pass. They were there to investigate the bounty, that much should have been clear, so there was no reason to hold any of them up any longer.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

"The Guild? You? These guys?" One guard looked to another. Both sighed. "Fine, Mando, but look here. These droids? Your responsibility. They kark up, you're payin' for it. And it ain't gonna be cheap."

"Neither will your funerals if you don't clear out of our way," Vee-Threepio said. He thought the duo of meatbags might have something else smart to say, but the both of them just looked at each other again and split apart to let them pass. Perhaps a Mandalorian and two homicidal bounty hunter droids were too much for the both of them to manage.

The two droids strolled past and into the bank. The interior of the bank looked just as pretentious as the exterior. Its marble floors and vaulted ceilings made it look like the palace on Naboo rather than a place designed for the depositing of pay checks. Veepee had never quite understood organics' obsession with their material wealth or expressing it in gaudy architecture. Perhaps if they invested their wealth into better security systems, they wouldn't need droids to come investigate theft for them in the first place.

When they were out of earshot of the guards, the black droid whirled on the Mandalorian. "Your assistance is appreciated though quite unnecessary. Within approximately five seconds, neither of those guards would have been a problem for Artoo and I—and my ankle joints would be clean." The droid's photoreceptors were big, red, and soulless; and it had no problem using them to stare at the Mandalorian. "Besides, it's not like we're Guild. We simply heard that some florescent, rainbow-haired meatbag was hacking droids to steal money. Can you believe it? The nerve."

Artoo whistled.

"I do believe we can indeed de-nerve her when we find out where she's hiding, Artoo," Veepee replied. "I've never done that before. That sounds quite fun."

About that time, the three of them came into the bank's main hall. Truth be told, neither droid knew where they were going; but this Mandalorian might. And it wasn't like they were just going to let some bucket-headed meatbag steal their catch, so Veepee and Artoo followed closely on the Mandalorian's heels. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Got it,” said the Mandalorian, before she walked past the guards.

She stifled a laugh at the droid’s reply. No wonder they hadn’t let them in, threatening to kill and murder weren’t exactly a convincing means of negotiation. If she hadn’t intervened, someone was bound to die. As entertaining as that sight would be, it wouldn’t be a pretty one, not in the way the droid described it.

Inside, the bank was what she expected it to be. Polished floors, white walls and high ceilings, complete with low-hanging chandeliers and skylights. Song gave a quick look-around, noting the many surveillance corners checkered throughout. Like they even mattered. What her bounty had done didn’t require brute force.

Her attention moved back to the droids and into the soulless eyes of the protocol one. She had expected they were simply servant droids with poor programming, but now it was clear they were working after the same thing Song was: Buzzkill.

Song’s footsteps echoed against the marble as she made her way across the foyer. While the droids walked beside her, she said casually, “Looks like we’re after the same thing, droid.”

She didn’t even look back to the droid, instead pulling out a bounty puck the Guild had given her. The holographic face of Buzzkill flashed in front of him, then disappeared back into her pocket. “Unfortunately, I prefer to work alone, so I might suggest you move along, or try your luck elsewhere.”

Song had paired with other hunters before, but she wasn’t sure what to think of the droid just yet.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

Both droids stopped in their tracks. After an uncomfortable beat of silence, it was Vee-Threepio that said, "Mandalorian, are you familiar with what happens to the fleshy exterior of human faces, such as your own, when extreme heat — like, say, from a flamethrower — is applied to the metal casing around it?"

"It's quite a gratifying process, really. First the metal becomes super-heated, scorching the nerve endings in the skin below. Then, as the metal begins to melt, it grafts itself onto the face and your oily, liquidious exterior — your skin, I mean to say again — begins to melt as well. By the time it's all over, metal and skin are one and — if you can survive the extreme pain this process causes — are quite inseparable, even by the best surgeons in the galaxy." Somewhere in all the excitement of his rambling speech, the torturous tools on Veepee's arms and hands had come out of hiding and were now fully exposed. "Does that sound as thrilling to you as it does to me? Because you're about to experience it first-hand if you attempt to stand between Artoo and I and our prey."

Next to him, Artoo whistled something unintelligible to Song, but Vee-Threepio understood it just fine. "Oh yes, how rude of me. Since you helped us with those guards earlier, we will only melt half your face."

To emphasize his point, Vee-Threepio extended a flamethrower from within his right arm and pointed it at Song's head. Artoo similarly followed suit. Miraculously, they were still in the bank hallway. No one had seen them yet. But who knew how long that would last? @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

The Mandalorian listened intently. Her armored head tilted between the droid’s cold, mechanical eyes and the many miniature tools and devices attached to its arm. A tweezer, a blunt hammer, an lighted torch, knives of varying sizes. Clearly, the droid was built for combat and torture, but none of its threats left a mark on her. She only stared blankly at the two droids, their flamethrowers, then smirked.

“Yes,” she said, back to him. “That does sound thrilling.”

With a rapid speed, a blur of movement that came in the blink of an eye, or for the droid, a half-second, Song pulled out her DL-44 blaster and aimed it at the droid’s face. If it made any attempt to grab it from her with its other mechanical hand, or with its short astromech friend, or if either of them tried to shock her, she’d fire into his unarmored eye.

“I’m willing to bet my Beskar can withstand your flamethrower long enough to put a bolt in your central processing unit, and your friend’s.”

She raised a heel, ready to use her jump boots to launch her away if anything really did transpire. Knocking either droid at a distance would prove much easier, and killing unlicensed droids would leave her with a warning at best. If either droid tried to with her, they’d be on the run from the law until their joints rusted to ash.

Then again, Song didn’t want that. She knew how far the droid might be willing to go, and she was interested to see what he might do at her side, than against it. With a smile, she raised her blaster away from the droid’s exposed eye.

“But you surprise me, droid,” said the Mandalorian. “I’ll let you come along, but you and your friend are only getting half the reward. Deal?”

She shoved the blaster into its holster and glanced between them. Typically, she didn’t care much for the credit reward. It was the tokens she was after, and the reputation that came with it. Having some help along, droid or not, wouldn’t hurt.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

"And you surprise me, Mandalorian," Vee-Threepio said in what basically amounted to sarcasm for a droid. "Everything I know about your people suggests that you are warriors, and yet you gave up the fun so easily." The droid retracted its weapons. "Disappointing, I must say."

"Fortunately for you," the droid went on, "my counterpart and I care very little for credits. Whatever would we use them for?" Artoo whistled. "Ah, yes. Fuel. Well, in that case, I suppose half will do."

"Since we're going to be working together, introductions are in order. My name is Vee-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. I am a protocol droid fluent in over six million forms of communication, etiquette, and torture, ma'm. And this is my counterpart, Artoo-Jayfive." Artoo made a noise like flatulence and Veepee twisted to consider his counterpart. Though the droid had really said something profane, Veepee translated it as, "He says he's quite pleased to meet a Mandalorian. There is not many of your kind left—which is a pity. Most Mandalorians are quite swell... for organics, I mean."

About that time, a Latero bank worker came waddling out of the adjacent hall and took notice of them. "You three there!" the bank worker called out. "Mando and droids! What are you doing over there?"

Artoo beeped three times and whistled.

"They are a quite revolting species, aren't they Artoo? Alas," the droid swiveled again to face the Mandalorian. "Duty calls. Shall we interrogate this bank worker about our fugitive slicer?" @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song gave the droid a half-snort, half-scoff, as if she wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or amused by his sarcasm. If one thing was certain, she knew his company would make one interesting adventure. Or misadventure, for lack of a better term.

The bounty hunter just hoped neither the droid or his little compatriot didn’t end up roasting the girl they were after alive, or “de-nerving” her. Last thing she wanted was to bring the Guild back with a jar of ashes, than a real bounty.

“Thanks?” she said at the compliment, again unsure if she should be grateful or annoyed. “But the name’s River. Mando’s fine too. I’m used to it.”

She ignored his little misstep in pronoun, not sure if he had caught onto the fact that it was a woman underneath the whole disguise than a man, and turned her attention to the Latero bank employee down the hall. She took a slight step away from the droids and gave a small nod. She tried to ignore what Vee-Threepio said next, knowing she might break her usual stoic attitude if he cracked another remark.

“Duty calls,” she repeated back, then moved for the bank worker.

“Good. We were waiting for your manager but I guess you’ll have to do.” Song flashed her badge again, like she were a Ranger and not a freshly-initiated Guild member. “Me and my friends here have some questions for you about the recent hack and one behind it. We’re looking for information which might lead to her capture. Do you know what you can tell us?”

The Mandalorian was quick and to the point, her voice hard and figure looming. She didn’t want the Latero questioning who exactly she was. Just that she was there to help.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

But the Latero wasn't having it:

"Well, that's too kriffin' bad, isn't it?" he said. "No amount of affirmative action would save my hide if I gave highly-classified company information out to a bucket head and two droids."

Behind her, Song might simultaneously hear Vee-Threepio mutter to Artoo, "I quite agree, Artoo. She was mighty presumptuous to call us 'friends.' Why, we've only just met. And most of our friends are dead."

"None 'o ya are law enforcement. I can see that much," the bank employee went on oblivious to the droids' conversation. "That either makes you gangsters looking to close up a loose end or bounty hunters from the guild. Which is it?"

Vee-Threepio waddled closer to Song and leaned in over her shoulder as if to tell her a secret—as if he was capable of whispering, which most droids of his make were not. "Pardon me, ma'm," he said. "But I have a bone saw concealed in my right hand that is quite handy in situations like this. A few missing fingers should loosen his tongue, if you catch my meaning."

The Latero heard everything. "So... gangsters it is. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the Sector Rangers to haul you—" He pointed to Song. "—to prison and the droids to a scrapyard."

Veepee shuffled around to stand at Song's side. "Allow me to offer several," he said, and out came every tool he had almost used on Song a minute ago.

"I, um... Look, I'm just a worker here... I— I don't know anything, I swear! But you're gonna need access to the central database to find anythin' out about our thief—and you'll need the Director's permission to get in there."

Veepee swiveled with his hips to face Song. "This answer is consistent with my understanding of Corellian banking practices. If we can get into that database, Artoo can probably trace the thief's cybernetic fingerprint."

"Th-th-the Director's office is up on the second floor, towards the back," the Latero said. "But he ain't fond of bounty hunters so... good luck."

The alien turned and fled before he could be threatened some more and Vee-Threepio put away his weapons. And while any normal hunter would have consulted with his partner to come up with a plan for tackling the bounty hunter-hating bank director, all Veepee could say was, "Well, you heard the meatbag. When we get upstairs, may I speak with the Director? I think he'll find me quite convincing." @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

The Mandalorian rolled her eyes as the Latero responded unkindly, the opposite of what she expected. What difference did it make to him if she was a bounty hunter from the Guild? She dispensed justice the same way a Ranger might, and she did it far better, more effectively, than local law enforcement. It had been weeks since the bounty was posted and Buzzkill was still out there. If only she could knock some sense into the worker.

Then again, she didn’t have to. Her droid friend seemed welcome to instead.

The Latero crumbled like a dry biscuit the second Vee-Threepio brandished his large array of weapons and torture devices, his eyes bright red with bloodlust. Song might’ve stepped in, but the bounty hunter side of her let him squeeze the information from the bank worker. She even smiled as the Latero hobbled fearfully away, not that the droid would see it. She didn’t want to encourage him.

“No. Last thing I need is a bounty on my head from one of the largest banks in the Core,” said Song, as she moved in the direction of the Director’s office upstairs, but with a contemplative pause, she added, “Though if negotiations do turn… sour. Maybe. Just maybe.”

She figured the protocol droid, despite its many language capabilities, would interpret her answer as a “yes.” Whatever. Song rarely visited the Deep Core anyway. If her maniacal droid friend ended up costing her the privilege of visiting, then she wouldn’t be missing much. The Outer-Rim was where she was born, where she lived.

Eventually, they reached the office, where a secretary watched them suspiciously from her desk, behind a heap of folders and files.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?”

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

The secretary was easily the second most stunningly ugly being Vee-Threepio had ever laid his photoreceptors on. She was a cross between an Amazon princess, a slug, and a drag queen what with all her jewelry and makeup; and that wasn't even to mention her voice, which was a horrid drawl.

"Pardon my saying so, ma'm, but I hardly think you could help yourself," the black-plated protocol droid blurted out before Song could stop him. "How do they even get you in through the door? Or do you live here so that they don't have to?"

The Hutt secretary blinked rapidly. Clearly, she wasn't use to being spoken to in such a manner. Few Hutts ever were. Behind him, Artoo whistled a reminder and Veepee suddenly remembered why they had come to this office in the first place.

"My companions and I are here to see the director," he explained. "We were told that he could give us a lead on the—"

"The thief?" The voice came from a thin Muun standing in the doorframe of the office in front of them. "I was beginning to wonder if I should just give up looking for her. You lot don't look like much and I'm not particularly fond of bottom-feeding bounty hunter scum, but—" He glanced at Song "—Mandalorians have a reputation for getting things done. I'm Director Koba. I'll take the three of you in my office."

He ushered them inside, but, before they could move, Vee-Threepio swiveled from his hips to stare at Song. "I must say, he seems like an alright sort of fellow. I love the way he talks down to us. More of you meatbags should have spines like that."

And then he shuffled after the director into his office, ignoring the look of shock and confusion from the Hutt desk clerk. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song spun around to meet the secretary. She was thankful to hear a helmet, else the horror plastered over her face would have been immediately apparent. She had heard childhood stories of Hutt kind from her mother, their infamous looks, and seen broadcasts of them several times, Durr the Hutt included. To see it in person, however, was something else.

Fat rolls and wrinkles covered the secretary head to toe, leaving the Mandalorian to wonder how much grease or lint or credits the Hutt might be hiding inside them. Slime dripped from the Hutt’s cherry red lips. Eyeshadow a disgusting shade of purple, chest wound about in a single piece of cloth that looked more like a living snake than real fabric. The round belly drooping to the floor. Pregnant with an infant rancor, perhaps?

The image, and the thoughts that came with it, made her skin crawl.

Her surprise went a step further when the droid, Vee-Threepio, made the first move. He cut through the heavy silence, his voice knifelike, but the words with it were better described as a spear. Thrown without a care, and piercing straight into the secretary’s cold attitude like a sheet of paper. The Hutt’s mouth was open. So was Song’s, though neither of them would see it. The Mandalorian wasn’t sure whether to berate the droid or pat him on the back.

Their company was getting more and more interesting.

Before she could say anything else, Song turned to a new voice. Director Koba, the management of the bank, who stood tall and proud at the door to his office. The Mandalorian said nothing at his compliment, but nodded and followed after his gesture. Thank Mand’alor, else she’d be dealing with the Hutt.

Threepio barked another few snappy words back to Song, who shrugged and said, “Are you talking literally, or figuratively?”

With that, she walked into the Muun’s office, hoping the droid wouldn’t throw anymore salt into the wound of what was left of the slug.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

"What do you want?" The Muun bank director, apparently named Koba, asked.

If Threepio could've blinked, he would have. "I thought we were already on the same page about that one."

"Yes, yes, the girl. But you don't need me to find a girl. You came to me for a reason. What do you want? Credits? I don't give droids credits." The Muun slumped back in his chair, propped his elbow up on the desk, and rested his chin on the back of his hand. Beady yellow eyes found Song. "And I don't much care for Mandalorians either. Bad for business."

"So are Hutt secretaries, in my experience," Veepee quipped. "Even if you can get past their huge, folded piles of redundant protoplasm, the smell is quite honestly dreadful."

"You'd prefer I have a droid secretary like all the other corporate bankers on this planet?"

"Why, of course I would, sir! Droids are intellectually superior to meatbags in every way."

"What the hell do you want, droid?"

"Access to your central database, if I might be frank. My counterpart and I—" Threepio twisted and rested a hand affectionately on Artoo. "—are hoping to trace the thief's digital footprint."

"You think we didn't try that, already?"

"I'm certain that you did, sir. It's standard protocol after a digital heist, after all. But Artoo and I are—" He paused and looked up and away, as if in thought, searching for the right word. Artoo whistled. "Yes, Artoo! That. We're special."

Director Koba looked flummoxed. He threw an exacerbated glance at Song. "Do you not talk, or something? Please, by all means make the case for why I should let your 'special' rust-buckets over here touch my computer system." @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song watched the exchange between the droid and the banker with creeping interest. She wasn’t sure how to feel about Threepio’s crass attitude with the Director, but he sold his point and he sold it well. While the bank had done everything they could to track down the digital footprint the bounty may have left behind, the droids could likely do it better. Although that wasn’t something she’d bet her life on.

As Koba directed his attention onto her, she frowned. Song had hoped to leave the negotiations to the droid, but it was clear that wouldn’t be enough. Always her job to pick up the slack, wasn’t it?

“I talk,” she said, her low pitch more distant now than it was with Threepio in the hall. The coldness of a Mandalorian bounty hunter, each syllable and word used sparingly, like every mutter was worth a hundred credits each. “I’ve worked with these droids for years. They’ve cracked security systems ten times as complex as what you’re packing. Pulled lost trails out of thin air.”

She was lying through her teeth, but as a child raised by Mandalorians, by her vicious father, she had become adept at it, to the point that no sleazy banker or top-tier detective could see past the supposedly cold, hard plate of truth she was serving.

“They’re special alright. Give them an hour with your systems and give me a week with the hunt, and I’ll have Buzzkill and whatever info she stole from you. No questions asked.”

Song stared at the banker hard through her blackened visor. The Muun might’ve not cared much about Mandos, but he understood what they were. She cracked a smile even when he couldn’t see it. “Like you said, we Mandalorians have a reputation for getting things done. So do these droids.”

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

The Muun banker didn't look convinced. "You're a terrible orator. Mandalorians break things when they 'get things done.' And those things end up costing beings like me a whole lot of credits."

Vee-Threepio said, "Oh, I quite agree, sir. She is a terrible speaker. Even worse liar, if I might add. After all, we only just met outside your bank."

"The Mandalorian's a 'she'?" The Muun glanced at Song and rubbed his temples with his large fingers. "I'm beginning to get a headache."

"Look at it this way, sir. If you allow us to trace the thief, we can fillet the florescent meatbag for you and she won't be able to steal anymore of your precious credits."

Koba held Threepio's gaze for a long minute. "Fillet, huh? I like the sound of that. The kid's been causing us too much trouble lately here on Corellia." He sighed. "Fine. I'll send word downstairs to let you through into the database mainframe, but you'll be under surveillance — so, no funny stuff."

"If by funny stuff you mean kill the guards, we most certainly won't."

Artoo whistled a correction.

"Oh, yes, that would make much more sense. We won't steal anything, either."

The Muun looked from the droids back to Song, clearly exacerbated. "I swear to the gods, if you're wrong about these droids, Mando, there's no cave you can hide in, from here to the Outer Rim, where I won't find you." @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song snapped her head over to the droid. She wanted to strangle him for the insult, but now she wanted to plant a blaster bolt between his photoreceptors at her realization. The droid knew who she really was behind the mask, the voice scrambler, everything. How, she had no clue, but the fact he was flaunting her identity around like it was a bag of credits infuriated her.

Only reason she hadn’t shot the droid then and there was because she had made a promise. The Mandalorian never broke her word. However, when the bounty hunt was finished, that was likely to change. Nobody could know the suit she had slipped into, River, was actually a woman. For other Mandalorians, the dots would be easy to connect.

She gritted her teeth. Song did her best to hold in her anger, letting it simmer even behind the mask as she said with an emotionless voice, “Sure.” The bounty hunter didn’t take threats lightly, but she knew who she was talking to. Someone had to. “It’ll be done. No sweat.”

The moment they left the office, passing the still slack-jawed secretary, and entered the hallway, Song whipped around to face the droid. “Don’t push my buttons, droid. You know I’m hiding for a reason. Last thing I need you to do right now is tell everyone I’m not the man I’m supposed to be. Is that so hard to ask?”

She sighed. Couldn’t they just find Buzkill and get this done? It was barely ten minutes into her partnership with Vee-Threepio and she already wanted to split ways. Unfortunately, if she wanted to climb the ranks in the Guild, she was stuck with what she had.

Two annoying droids and an increasing desire to scrap them for parts.

@Malon

 

[V3PO]

"As a matter of fact, I don't know that you're hiding or why," Vee-Threepio replied. He was entirely oblivious. For all his programming on etiquette and customs, individual nuance was entirely beyond him and he wouldn't much care even if the programming did exist. "And whatever do you mean 'not the man I'm supposed to be'? Do you think all Mandalorian men are as thin and diminutive as yourself? Honestly, I'm not quite sure who you think you're fooling."

The pair took the lift down to the basement of the bank where security received them and guided them towards the mainframe. The room was a mess of large servers and computers. The heat from so many large electrical devices, crammed together in a tight and unventilated space, was sweltering, but Vee-Threepio had no sensors to detect such things. He was unbothered, though Song in her armor was likely a different story.

Artoo wheeled right up to the mainframe and plugged himself in. After twisting his mechanical arm counterclockwise for a moment, his head dome swiveled and he whistled at them.

"Artoo says he has found our thief's digital footprint, but she is using a rather sophisticated program to cover her tracks," the droid explained. "I'm afraid it is impossible to locate her exactly, but—" Artoo whistled some more. "—we will be able to obtain her approximate location."

The blastromech droid withdrew its mechanical arm and spun to face them. It was quick to spit out several lengthy questions, which only Veepee could interpret.

"Yes, that is a good question, Artoo. How precisely do you plan to draw her out? We haven't a clue what this girl looks like—only her approximate age."

The tiny blastromech rolled forward and projected a map of Corellia into the air with a bleeping red dot to demonstrate the thief's approximate position.

"She appears to be operating somewhere out of the docks outside of Coronet City. Artoo has informed me that this region is large and mazelike. There are a web of tunnels and sewers that run beneath it, as well. She could be anywhere." Artoo shut off the map and Threepio swiveled to face the Mandalorian. "Pardon my interjection, ma'm—" He'd already forgotten her rebuke "—but tracking people is your speciality, isn't it?" @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“I hide because it’s necessary,” said Song, agitated. After warning the droid not to push anymore buttons, there was he pressing every single one on their way to the lift. As the doors closed, she was again tempted to scrap him. Shove him between the doors, watch his head crush against the metal. Though the thought was fleeting.

“Mandalorians come in all shapes and sizes. If anything, you’re the first to figure out who I really am under the armor, and I doubt it was because of my appearance alone.” Although Song felt rather sure of that, the droid had sown a seed of doubt in her. She always bound her chest, and wore extra protective gear to add a look of weight and mass around her. Especially in her brother’s armor, she figured the disguise was near perfect.

Song rolled her eyes. She couldn’t let the droid’s words get to her head.

At the lower floor, she ignored the sweltering heat coming off the rows of servers and computers, and instead kept her eyes on Artoo as he connected to the system. To her surprise, the droid found the girl’s digital footprint in under a minute. With a celebratory whistle, it had discovered her location. Approximately. Not the best news, but enough. The Mandalorian had tracked down bounties with less.

“Good,” said Song with her arms crossed. “I can work with that.”

With the location in mind, she moved back for the lift, but not before the droid interrupted her yet again. At that point, she might as well let him lead the operation if he was going to constantly stop her in her tracks.

“Yes, I can track her down. What we have is good enough. Now, can we go already?”

She gestured him to the lift. Once inside, she pressed the button back to the first floor. Together with the droids, the Mandalorian stood there in stiff silence, the music of the elevator ringing above them. It was, to say the least, unbearably awkward.

@Malon