Downtime? Hardly.

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Expect trouble from every corner of the galaxy.

This was a truth hammered into Mirdala'runi from the day she could walk. And yet here she was, wholly unprepared for said trouble. Granted, she had picked a touristy hotel on Joralla which even now was mostly left intact by the struggle for power raging across the stars, but nonetheless, trouble existed. She had selected the renowned restaurant/lounge Farenia as a good place for a little downtime, a quaint if naive notion that a sentient being had time to take a breath, take stock and prepare for the next bout of whatever the galaxy threw at them.

Sitting in her own leather-upholstered booth, a trio of datapads, datatablets and her personal comm scattered upon the fine-grain wooden tabletop, Miri was armed with a scowl, bad language and a do-not-bother-me disposition and little else...save for the itty bitty holdout blaster secured at the small of her back. She wasn't even wearing her armor; clad in a blank tank-top, dark khakis and her combat boots, she looked like an Imperial reservist on leave, if anything. Her raven hair was tied back in a ponytail for simplicity's sake. In short, she was here to get work done, not to go to work.

The quartet of armed barves had other ideas, of course.

Clad in ridiculously classy suits, the four were obviously in the know about the clientele here. Each wore a mask of another species; a rubbery Gamorrean mask, an eerily life-like Vratix mask, a Bothan's furry mask and an overly-green Rodian mask. The four marched into the quiet din of the lounge and, at first glance, seemed to be more business types here for the happy hour. When the Vratix strolled up to the bar and yanked a Disruptor out of his meticulously spotless jacket fold and blew the poor server's nerfing head clean off, the quartet were given considerably more attention.

"Ya know the drill," the Gamorrean roared in Basic, albeit muffled by the rubber, "wallets, creds and valuables onna tables! Anyone pulls outta comm device, people start gettin' lobotomies! NOW!" the robber snapped. Mirdala, feeling rather idiotic for packing nothing besides her attitude and a wimpy little pistol, frowned as the Rodian strolled over and waved his own blaster rifle suggestively at her data devices.

"I don't have anything," Miri said flatly. The thief hefted his rifle up to eye level suggestively.

 

[Chairdor]

Hiro had little need of sun and sand. His matrix did not register temperature, not unless it was above or below several hundred centigrade at which point it would begin to degrade his inner workings. As for sand, it got in his gears and increased the rate in which his small parts malfunctioned leading to a higher overturn of costly repairs. On Tatooine where he had just left, the droid found life extremely difficult due both to the frequent threats to his life, but also the environment, while some would argue it was far more hostile to organics, Hiro would argue droid's were not too far behind them. So why a jungle planet then, to be honest Hiro didn't really have a definitive explanation, perhaps it was the flicker of an advertisement declaring the world's excellence. Mayhaps it was a desire for a peace, a chance to sit on his laurels and slow down for a while.

It was true he had lived a fast and loose lifestyle ever since he had been reactivated on that desolate rock, he had found a rusty gun gripped in his metal hand and he never seemed to let go of the trigger. Attempting to count the number of men he had shot in the months he recalled existing, the droid found himself taking more than a few moments to get the figure. When all was said and done however, Hiro's logical cores contended all the deaths were deserved or required for the droid's continued active stance, though that in itself was a philosophical question. Every life seemed to have an inherent point, a sense of purpose reflected in the culture, the lore of the creatures world's governments, species...yet what did Hiro have. He was a rusted droid with no past, his memory deleted, his only inheritance from a life long lost a single rusted revolver.

As his internal servos again went over this question, wracking the details, compiling the possibles, he was again forced to quit lest his intelligence matrix overheat. There simply was too much unknown, too much to question. All he had was a fragment of a much large tapestry and for quite some time the droid had been worrying that the tapestry had not merely been ripped, but burned. Attempting to cheer himself, Hiro sought out a cantina, a friendly place where something was always happening. Unfortunately the touristy locale had little to offer in variety beyond jewelry shops, so he had to contend with a hotel bar.

Walking past the many guests, all looking quite rich and splendid, the dusty bot took a seat by the bar, his rusted frame giving a small squeak at the effort. Several patrons looked his way at that and the bartender raised his eyebrow then noting the new 'customers' nature he walked over and said simply,

"Only drinkers and guests at the bar,"

Hiro was about to say that he was in fact a drinker of a sort when the bartenders eyes widened looking down the folds of the droid's duster,

"You have weapons in here...weapons,"

The man backed away his arm's outstretched as his back hit the rack of expensive liquors hanging on the wall causing a general clatter of glass. Hiro detected that the patrons close to him had a significant increases in cardiovascular activity, they were afraid and the droid realized his miscalculation, noting his desired location as a cantina he hadn't seen anything wrong with bringing in his weapons so long as they were concealed. Noting he sohlud have changed the location index to 'hotel' he might have avoided this lapse in logic. Noting it was too late now the droid proceeded to stand up when a fellow walked up right next to him.

Noting his weapon Hiro figured him an over zealous security officer, but only for a moment, because the next moment the bartender was dead, his blood and alcohol mixing on the bar floor. Hiro only took half a second to figure out what was occurring, but stood completely still waiting for a proper moment to strike. Using his optic and auditory sensors, the droid mapped out the situation noting potential hazards to himself and guests. Strike to quickly, cause a panic, guests start running, people get shot, start too late, Hiro dies, end of story.

Feeling the small of a hand reach into his duster pocket and the heat of the hot disruptor blaster next to his head, Hiro noted the robbers apparent disgruntlement in not finding anything of value. Turning his hand within his duster Hiro pulled one of his guns slowly before saying,

"Fraid I'm not a rich man today pardner, but I got one thing fore ya,"

The robber pressed his blaster to the droids masked face his finger raising itself off the trigger guard, in an instant Hiro pulled his own trigger his shot concussing deeply into the man's chest causing him to stumble back, his finger lifted just so off the trigger guard led to him dropping the gun just as the droid had calculated, turning about and snatching the blaster in mid air to turn his guns upon a robber threatening a raven-haired woman near the bar Hiro muttered,

"A bullet," to the man as he moaned on the floor.

"Now see hear ya varmints, you come into this place of hospitality and expect the world to roll over for ya, well I just checked and the rooms here are full, but I'm thinking they still got plenty a room in hell,"

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Dear sweet Mandalore's butt cheeks.

Miri watched in shock as a crazy barve downed one of the robbers and fluidly spun to track the one harassing her. The line he drawled held the would-be robber in bewilderment and Miri, also a bit shocked, quickly came to and seized the moment. She hurled herself to the floor in a most unladylike fashion, her hands scrambling for the peashooter strapped to her back. The other thieves kicked over tables, snarled threats, fired rounds indiscriminately. Whatever the barve's plan was, he sure as hell knew how to rouse the bar. Miri herself dragged herself under her table with her elbows and fired in the general direction of the shouting, hoping she was at least keeping the thieves honest.

The way the galaxy is going, can't say I blame 'em for trying to get the quick credits and then disappear on some backwater world. She cast her eyes about for that mighty fast gunslinger and hoped he had taken down the robber nearest to her; that would give her the freedom to turn and face the remaining two who, in their desperation, would likely be seeking to get out before things got out of hand. Well, any more out of hand. Leaning out to fire off a few shots, she called to the droid over her shoulder.

"Hey, trigger happy!" she barked. "You still vertical, mate?"

 

[Chairdor]

Hiro took little time in firing a second time as the man turned just slightly toward him. Hiro calculated the man would take .033335 seconds to register the approaching bullet, but it would only take .00004567 seconds to make contact with his skull. In other words, he never saw it coming. As the man fell back dead before he hit the ground, the droid turned to the source of shouting and noted two other robbers had created a small barricade and had begun firing into the many innocents and guests there. Once docile and willing to allow the men to steal from them the crowd become animated and terrified as blaster bolts shattered all around them. Rushing to and fro like Banthas on Bantha nip the criss crossing crowd made it next to impossible for the droid to get off a clean shot. Reserving himself, Hiro lowered his weapon and shifted slightly as one of the many wild shots nearly made contact with his boot.

Off balance for a moment the droid regained his equilibrium as the woman spoke to him. She had been firing this entire time though the droid noted her shots were meant for accuracy so much as to scare the living daylights out of everyone in the hotel, a job that needed no extra helpers as it were. She asked him a rather strange question, was he still vertical? The droid figured he was as he stood amidst the criss crossing red and hot. Though as an existing being in a three dimensional realm he was also horizontal and if you subscribed to some theories he also took up the dimension of time, something he was wasting by calculating his dimensionality while he should be firing his weapon.

Shaking his head as his mental servos rerouted to more pressing concerns, he responded,

"Sure why not little missy, now you best pick your shots because if you make it their choice they may pick a target ya regret later," Hiro said as he noted on Rodian cried out and fell a blaster bolt from one of the would be robbers clipping his leg, as this occurred the rest of the crowd seemed to notice that taking a route through the fire fight was a poor option and wisely panicked elsewhere. Hiro springing into action threw a smoke grenade atop the Rodian immediately encasing him in an opaque cloud, the cloud drifted with the powerful indoor ventilation and soon a wafty haze covered the battlefield, lit by the occasional blaster fire the droid noted the eerie shadows created by the violence and noted it matched several reference pictures of art. Odd something so cruel could be seen as cultured, but referencing the Mandolorians he remembered that war and culture could be the same thing.

Falling to one knee and firing two clean shots at the two bandits shelters, his aim true as their barricades split sending shards of wooden shrapnel in all directions, Hiro heard a cry of pain and saw his opening. Standing and projecting his voice modulator to direct most of the sound towards the two would be robbers he called out,

"Now see here you two this is over, won't be long before local police arrive and you'll be completely surrounded, you ain't got no hostages you ain't got no money and you ain't even got a getaw-"

Hiro's sentence was interrupted, which was perfectly alright as the source of the interruption would have immediately disproved his third point. Smashing through the glass door two men in a speeder jury rigged with some kind of machine gun barreled through the lobby running over some unfortunate guests who had nearly made it to the door and a clean getaway. Now a mess under the two men one shouted some indiscernible as he leaped onto the turret and began to fire.

Hiro ran in front of the stream of fire for a few seconds, vases, bottles, and tables shattered into a massive concussive blast of sharp and deadly. At last falling to the ground as the deadly stream flowed above him, the droid knew he had one play to make. As the speeder inched forward slow arcing the turret down to end the meddling droid, Hiro delicately aimed his wrist to hit the right panel. Using his other hand he fired a single shot from his revolver before firing the grappling hook right behind the blast. As he calculated the protective steel of the vehicles shattered with the bullets impact giving way for the droids grappling hook to grip the electronics on the interior. Activating the electric shock of the hook he watched as the speeder sparked and smoked and the two men eventually abandoned it as it caught fire.

Not knowing the fate of the little lady caught in this fight with him, Hiro called out,

"You alright miss?!"

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

So much for downtime, thought the Mandolorian.

Noting the droid's own pattern of fire, she heeded his advice, stopped firing for effect and chose her next shot carefully. When the droid managed to reduce the robbers' cover to cinders, she darted forward as if she were shot out of a repulsorlift cradle. Keeping low, she ran for the bar as she lined up a shot and fired through the mess the would-be hero had created of their cover. She was happy to hear her own yowl of pain as her shot struck low, either a knee or an ill-placed boot. She made it to the bar--where she chose to leap from her crouch, slide across its drink-littered surface and crouch down behind it--and stood just in time to hear the drawling shooter start to brag.

And then, of course, all hell broke loose.

The classy glass entrance doors simply vaporized under the careful application of speeder front end. She was at just the right angle to watch a few smartly-dressed but foolishly panicked money spenders wind up as so much pulpy mess beneath the skidding craft. Mirdala had a few precious seconds to register the turret on the vehicle, its ability to track along a hydraulic mount, its barrel aim at--"Oh," she breathed as she threw herself backwards, "sithspit!" Her back hit the floor just as the gunner chose to open up with the weapon. Above and behind her, the rear of the bar was blasted, sending alcohol and glass shards raining down at her face.

She managed to roll away from the worst of it but took a little slice along one cheek as she scrambled on hands and knees to snatch her almost-empty little blaster from where it landed. Several strange noises later, the cannon stopped and she heard boots sliding across hardwood; the speeder occupants had abandoned the vehicle and took cover. Just what the hell is this clanker carrying? She intended to find out just as soon as the rest of the bad guys were well on their way to decomposing.

"Oh, I'm bloody swell!" she said with a smirk. "Helluva vacation, mate, thank you!"

 

[Chairdor]

Hearing the woman respond was all Hiro needed to know she was alright, while many died in this callous act of greed and aggression it was good to know goodly folk could still defend themselves, albeit in the minority. As the two drivers of the speeder fell to the ground, their lungs filled with smoke from the ruined speeder, the unbreathing droid moved into the hazy black of the burning speeder and lifted the two coughing robbers by the scruffs of their necks and lifting them with mechanical strength wasted no time in smacking the twos heads together with a resounding smack, the two fell into a heap as the droid threw them carelessly away from their burning getaway car. Checking them he noted their vitals were by and all fine, but their neurological activity had decreased indicating a light state of unconsciousness.

Sure that that sector was secure the droid took a tally of threats he had encountered. Four men had entered the bar two had been killed by his bullets, two lay unconscious. looking over past the woman he noted one was gripping his knee as it bled freely, noting he would require medical attention in the next ten minutes lest he risk losing the leg, the bot approached the wounded man with the hope of cauterizing the wound perhaps with a burning piece of metal. Looking over to the very capable woman he noted she was in civilian wear and held a hold out blaster. Noting the specs on the piece he was impressed she managed to clip the man as it's effective range was far less than the distance traveled, which either meant she was good at shooting once, or shooting a lot at once.

"No thanks required miss, glad you helped settle this me-"

"HEY!"

The droid looked over to a crazed looking bandit, a thick piece of wood stuck in one arm which hung limply by his side while the other wrapped a terrified looking Cathar, a gun to her head. As the thief bled on the floor from his fresh wound he looked menacingly from Hiro to the women then began to laugh,

"Ha...this is how it's gonna work...I'm going to leave here...and I'm taking this lady with me...and you're not gonna chase me...or I'm gonna kill her..and that..is that,"

The man's breaths were labored indicating he had been bleeding for some time the droid noted the mans slump and soon realized he didn't need a quick shot to end this, he just needed time. So, holstering his weapons, the wild man nodding in approval as he did, Hiro lifted his gunless hands and said,

"Alright tex let's talk shop...from the looks of it ya already got plenty of wood for it,"

The man smiled widely, though the crack was to his detriment and nodded, his entire form shaking with the movement as his hostage whimpered,

"We don't want no more bloodshed and this ain't just about us and that lady, you're friend back there-"

Instantly the mans eyes widened as he turned and shot the moaning man behind him before turning back just as quick and saying,

"What friend?"

Hiro understood he still needed more time before the man bled out, but he had no way of getting it, the man was a loose cannon. Looking to the woman for some help he hoped she had some idea of what to do.

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

It was all over.

Or, rather, Mirdala thought it was. The droid brazenly strolled over to the two remaining criminals and brought their heads together with a resounding--and rather satisfying--thunk! They dropped like so much piles of Bantha turds and Mirdala allowed herself a sigh. Intensity was something she expected in her line of work and even found enjoyment in from time to time, but she'd been here to recover, recoup and take a tally of where she was at in terms of ammunition, fuel, equipment and contracts. The day had quickly gone from quiet to deafening so this return to quiet did not fool her in the least.

Sure enough, after the droid turned to give her his thanks, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and her arm snapped up, the holdout blaster leveled coolly at the hostage-taker's left eyeball. Of damn course, she thought sourly as the man ruined the droid's second one-liner of the engagement, because there wasn't enough mayhem as it was. She heard the second survivor move from where he clutched his knee, attempting to get a bead on the droid--but he was dead before she could pivot; the droid was fast, faster than any thug she'd seen in her expanding career.

She came to the same conclusion the droid did, albeit slower with her organic brain.

Bleeding. Internal trauma, shock, contusions. Minutes at best, but too unpredictable and agitated. The hostage is dead in a minute if we don't act. The sobering thought made her frown even frownier, if that was possible, and, like her droid partner, she lowered her weapon at the thug's insistence. From the cues she got from the droid's words and body language, it looked like he was hoping she'd have a skifter in the deck. She took a deep breath and calmed herself.

This was the state of the galaxy, now; the violence was increasing, the desperation seeping across the stars like some slow-moving infection. People are being reduced to this to try and escape what's coming. She should know; the word coming out of the Mandolorian channels was very, very troubling. So troubling, in fact, her father had requested several times now that she return...No, not now, she berated herself. Focus. Hostage, perp, firearm in key position, little to no time to react. She sighed again, as if in resignation, but this was actually her preparing a deep concentration.

She kept her arm loose, her blaster pointed down at the glass-strewn floor.

And then, suddenly, she was aiming right at the perp's face. Her arm came up in such swift and precise motion that it looked rehearsed. In actuality, it was; she'd been in only one situation like this before, but had trained for mid-range blaster use extensively. Even as her arm came up, her finger applied the miniscule pressure needed to depress the notoriously light trigger on the holdout pistol. She moved so quickly, in fact, that one might make the mistake in assuming she'd used the Force to aid her.

It happened in the span of a pair of seconds. Her arm shot up, her bolt lanced brilliant crimson death from point a to point b and neatly drilled a smoking hole in the assailant's head directly over his left eye, burning through brain tissue and super-heating liquid; the result was a total loss in motor control of his right side. No shot followed hers, no dead hostage on the ground. Satisfied, Mirdala exhaled sharply and turned wary eyes onto the droid.

"At least I won't have to worry about my tab," she said with a snort, holstering her weapon.

 

[Chairdor]

In an instant it was over, it all happened too fast. Those are the kind of things organics might say recounting the event that just transpired in front of Hiro. However with advanced sensors and recording equipment in lieu of memory, the past was never truly past to a droid, for they could see it again and again as if it was occurring right at that moment. In fact by changing ones internal temperature and other specs to the levels recorded in that moment Hiro could see the event and feel think the exact same thoughts all over again. While he certainly could do that, he really would never wish too.

While the woman had made a nice shot, a clean shot, there was no 100% in her action, so in every way, in every recollection, the droid would know that same doubt, the numbers would weigh on him endlessly. So he moved on to the matters of the present as in this moment there was no lack of them. Turning to the woman as she gave a line herself he tipped his hat in recognition, but swiftly moved in towards the fallen bandit and his former hostage. Noting her vital signs, age, and weight he noted a heart attack was entirely possible due to the traumatic near-death experience she had just suffered so moving in he went over various protocols on how to calm a distressed individual.

Noting the first protocol was universal in it's application he immediately got to it. Warming his outer core, arms, chest, he kneeled down beside the shivering woman and enveloped her. She shook for a moment, not the strangeness of this embrace, but now in a safe space, her vulnerability allowed her to forget the strangeness as she began to whimper and gripped the metallic bot tightly.

"Salright miss...it's gonna be alright,"

She whimpered something indiscernable in reply and in a few moments an ambulance entered the hotel via the hole the thugs had left, several troops of men with stretchers rushed out of the medical vehicle and one pair took the woman off along with many many other victims of this horrific act of intolerable greed.

One might call it justice that the men paid for their crime with their lives, but Hiro would ask, what crime had those who died at their hands commit to earn the same sentence? Had Hiro the chance he would have captured all of them, as it were only two were left alive and as they were carted away the Droid attempted to think of what would be a proper fate for them, but he lacked the logic core reserves to note a truly perfect punishment, thus he gave up and lifted himself to walk over to the impressive woman he had fought alongside.

Tipping his hat once more as he approached the droid looked upon the woman and said,

"Howdy miss, names Hiro, you're a plum fine shot with that lil thing, I'm sure your hell with a real gun,"

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

The rest was cleanup.

Mirdala watched for a moment as the quick-as-lightning droid went to comfort, console or simply check on the hostage. She'll be fine, Miri thought as she vaulted over the bar, her boots crunching noisily on the glass strewn about the floor, more than we can say about the thugs. Was it her place to dish justice? Was she in a position to right the wrongs, protect the innocent, play the heroine? No. She was as far from hero as could be without wanting to step over the boundaries into the realm of evil. She sifted through the wreckage of the table she'd sat at a mere few minutes before and located the datapad, datatablet and her roughshod backpack.

As the droid continued his ministrations to the hostage, she heard the whine of an approaching ambulance. The incoming authorities hastened her actions as she leveled her holdout blaster and shot the two small devices, ruining all the data they'd carried. This is why backups are lifesavers, she mused as she slipped the raggedy backpack over her shoulder, random thugs in masks attempting to nab themselves an easy score. She could easily back up whatever she needed from the databank stored on her ship, but as for her "downtime"? About as shot as the bloody idiot lyin' over there in his own guts.

She turned in time to see the paramedics rush in and begin their work.

One of them, a Zabrak in a sky-blue jumpsuit, came at her with a disinfectant pad and what looked like a medkit. She waved him off with a shake of her head, but he pointed at the cut she'd gotten from the spray of glass. "Look, go help those who need it," she muttered, pawing at her face to stop the bleeding, "or piss off. Pick one. Quickly." With an exasperated sigh, the medic moved off the help some mewling man in a stained vest who had managed to injure his sense of calm and not much else.

At last, her compatriot in fine-dining-shootouts approached her, commenting on her shooting. She eyed the droid carefully, drinking in details the way a drunk might drink in a pint of Wyren's Reserve. This droid was incredible in a firefight and had the optimal sort of programming to aid in combat situations. Apart from assassin droids, this was a rarity indeed; questions loomed large in the youth's mind, but she knew better than to pry. Never know what I might find, she reasoned as she extended a hand out to the droid, but I wouldn't want to end up on the wrong end of those slugthrowers of his. "Mirdala," she said as she offered her hand for a curt shake. She shrugged at the compliment. "Gotta have some sort of marketable skill," she said wryly, "might as well be a steady hand. Which you have in aces, I see," she returned the compliment. She raised a dark brow over one eye.

"Tell me, what do you go by? Not many blokes like your sort around."

 

[Chairdor]

As workers filtered in to clean up the mess and save those they could, Hiro found himself in a field where he could no longer aid those in need. Odd how one can have such power over death, but absolutely none over life. Even the most powerful Sith lords cannot end ones death, they can only warp their flesh and create monstrosities. So the droid figured, those who heal, who bring people back from the precipice of mortality. Have one of the greatest gifts in the galaxy. With that Hiro wondered why he was built once more, why create yet another pair of hands to wield a gun in this vast galaxy. There were plenty of those born for the task. So Hiro wondered, was his creator evil, or did he have some higher plan for the droid. Whatever it was, Hiro did not know. He wondered if he would ever know.

As he spoke to the young woman she commented that her shooting ability was a marketable skill which for some reason led to a shock of negative feedback. Something about the act of shooting and killing for money, yet Hiro did it all the time himself. Shaking his head he noted he was a strange bot and moved on as she complimented him on his shooting, which led to another conundrum of humility. Noting he was merely built with the skills Hiro suddenly noticed there was no such thing as training for a droid, everything he had had been given to him. So tipping his hat to acknowledge the compliment he kept it in his databanks that he hadn't earned this power, he had been made with it in mind.

Hiro guessed in all the commotion she hadn't quite heard him when he introduced himself earlier and let it slide as he simply said,

"Names Hiro miss, now I do say I am at a disadvantage, what can I call you?"

As he said this one of the health workers approached them and very sternly said,

"Sir, madame we appreciate what you've done here but were going to have to ask you to leave as this is now a crime scene and can't be tampered with before the coroner arrives,"

Hiro looked to the man, his mask impassively looking on as he said in a friendly tone,

"Sure thing pardner," looking back to the woman he shrugged, "Let's walk and talk eh?"

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Mirdala nodded curtly to the droid, all too happy to vacate the scene.

She was technically not an outlaw nor a criminal, but her presence at the scene of this carnage would raise a number of eyebrows in key areas of law enforcement. The risk of damages somehow winding up on her shoulders was not inconsiderable; nobody likes a loose cannon mercenary and it would be all too convenient to pin the craziness on one some how. She adjusted the pack on her back as she met the droid's visual sensors with her own steely gaze, though not quite as devoid of humanity as his, there was a definable hardness to her eyes that bespoke a rough upbringing and a rougher lifestyle. She thought about her response to the droid only momentarily.

"Mirdala," she said simply, choosing to give only a nickname. Any more information and it'd be all too easy to locate her full identity and thus her parentage, herritage and lineage. Though this smart barve might be able to do that anyway, she mused wryly as she stepped through the gaping hole made by the burning speeder. Out on the street, sunlight was welcome, but the sight of dozens of gawkers and their various recording devices was not. With a growing dislike of the environment, she gestured to Hiro to lead. "I have nowhere to be for a few hours," she commented as they walked away from the mess--which was more than some could say, unfortunately for them--"and back there," she thumbed over her shoulder, "was supposed to be a little R and bloody R. Fat lot of that I got," she growled, but companionably so. "So Mr. Hero," she said, either mispronouncing his name or acknowledging his role in the mayhem, "you're fair unusual bloke for a droid."

She allowed herself a tight, small smirk. "I'm dyin' to hear what a droid like you has to say."

 

[Chairdor]

Hiro nodded at the name, a large number of syllables that still managed to sound economic, cross referencing it with naming conventions of other races he discovered it might be a Chiss naming convention but noting the woman's lack of blue hue, he took the latter assumption of some clan affiliation, perhaps Mandolorian which would certainly go a long way to explaining her brilliance as a shot. If the droids data banks were correct on this storied people they were essentially handed a vibro knife right out of the womb to cut their own umbilical cord off, and that's only a slight exaggeration. With no confirmation on this however Hiro merely took her name at face value and decided not to attempt to see too much into it.

Once outside he noted the gathering people. He had little concept of what attracted organics to death as a concept and yet repulsed them biologically from it, it seemed contradictory, but mind and body seldom aligned when it came to sentient beings it seemed. So pressing his hats brim down to stop some of the flashing photography from straining his optics, he walked alongside the woman as she spoke. She seemed to be taking the moment of near death she had quite well, very few people tend to shake off a gun pointed to their head quite so easily, which further solidified the Mandolorian theory. Still it was only a theory and not entirely pertinent to the current situation so Hiro held his vocal unit as Mirdala continued to speak on her circumstances and reasoning for being there.

When she at last mentioned how he was strange for a droid and wished to know what he had to say, Hiro swiftly obliged her,

"Ha, I don't think I'm too unusual Mirdala in fact I had the same idear you had on R and R though switch the word Rest with Recharge," as he continued to walk he turned a corner to another building with glass paneling that left a perfect reflection of the passersby. Hiro looked to see his looming figure, masked, and made of every mechanical bit imaginable. He looked to Mirdala's reflection and for a brevity his optics malfunctioned, shifted to some older recording. There was a flash, a red haired girl in place of the raven-haired Mirdala. He had only a moment before his optics changed back to normal and when he attempted to recall the odd image, no dice.

shaking his head the disappointed droid remembered where he was and what he had been asked and spoke once more,

"You know there is one unusual thing about me...slight difference from other droids at least...I ain't got no purpose. Some droids are built for fixin, others for servin. I woke up on some rock not three months back with no idear what I was ment fer, spose that most folks got that problem, but they're alive an all so they got purpose right then and there, make babies, live honorably, all that...it's just odd to not have that spark...I"

It was at this moment that Hiro realized he had been speaking for quite some time now so he stopped to laugh before saying,

"Sorry miss, got caught in a loop there...happens to us robots all too often,"

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

Mirdala looked into that same glass window.

Instead of seeing whatever it was a droid could see, she immediately casted about for anyone tailing them, for attackers, for observers. Instincts are hard to kill, she mused to herself as her eyes found themselves in the reflection now. She looked at the haggard, post-battle female standing beside the killer droid and felt a nagging in the back of her mind. She was refusing to return to Mandolorian space, refusing her father's call for aid in battles all too pointless in her opinion. Battle for the sake of battle just seemed...like the sort of battle we just walked out of. Desperate and misguided.

She sighed and, with an effort, tore her eyes from her reflection and continued their leisurely stroll. The droid pointed out he wasn't, in fact, unusual, and Mirdala thought about arguing the matter. Assassin droids were one thing; they were designed for the elimination of targets, but were carefully coded for elusive and incognito methods. Typically, anyway. There's nothing typical about Hiro, here, however. Ah, there it was! The story of his creation was a bit lacking, but it began to paint a clearer picture. She snorted derisively at his mention of live honorably, but allowed the droid to finish.

"I disagree, Hiro," she said with a shrug.

"Make babies? Live honorably? Sound like choices to me, mate. As for purpose? I figure sentients make their own. Ya find something to live and die for and you stick to it no matter what. You might call it user-defined purpose, in mechie talk." She allowed herself a moment to consider her own words. It was funny, in a sad sort of way; having selected to ignore the Mandolorian conflicts, she essentially had no purpose now. Making the galaxy less of a piss pot by reducing the number of pissers in it is gonna get stale real fast, too, she thought sourly. "I think you should choose your own purpose, mate. Decisions should be easier for ya, if you have missing memory. No base code to restrict you."

Having a love for coding and its various illicit uses gave her a little insight to the matter, but she was far from an expert on droid programming. She approached the issue of his amnesiac rebirth from a slicer's point of view. "You try toying with certain things, seein' what you can and can't do? Obviously you're not restricted from drilling a bloke," she said, nodding over her shoulder at the carnage they just vacated, "and using a blaster doesn't appear to give you a bad case of the sparks, so that right there should suggest you're free to make your own purpose." Who was she to be giving life advice? She smiled and shook her head.

"Look, Hiro, I'm the last person ya should ask, but that's my two credits worth, hear?"

 

[Chairdor]

Hiro thought on what Mirdala had to say, long and hard he calculated and weighted her words, as words alone, as sentences, as arguments, as advice. In every different way there was a similar theme, to experiment, to test his limits, and to choose. Choice and droid are not often words one sees together, droids were tools, robots which at it's basest level meant slave. Hiro never considered himself a slave, but unlike other organic beings, he didn't have to wonder about some unknown creative force in his distant past, he was made by someone, quite likely someone alive today and no matter how much he changed or tested his coding he would always have some gnawing base code telling him that he was not responsible for his basest existence, his barest descriptions. He was a being of intelligent design, yet he feared he would never find the mind behind it.

Despite these conflicting thoughts Hiro gave no indication of any emotion, in some ways it certainly pays to be a droid and to wear a mask as well. So after a moments pause to digest this information, to convert shaken air the woman had created into electrical impulses which then were used to spark processors to mimic cognitive thought all within seconds , he replied,

"Test my limits eh? Funny...I remember a fellow who once talked about knowledge sayin it was a good word in itself...cause in the end you have to go to the ledge to know...at all times you could slip, you could fall, you could look into the abyss below and be lost forever in wondering what lay in the dark...but shy away from it and that abyss will turn on you and forever you will know your limits and the power of fear...well somethin akin to that, though I don't remember who said it..."

Hiro trailed off once more as he noted something amiss, looking down to the shore he noticed a small crackle, not static, something more...earthy, utilizing his binocular vision he scanned ahead and noted a small wood fire burning all alone by the sand, in every way it seemed alive, bright, moving, consuming, yet it was dead, no sentience, so bright yet not a single thought. Staring for a moment the droid reset his optics in a sort of blink as his gaze returned to Mirdala,

"So enough about me missy, I'd like to hear about the gal who stared down a murderous crook and didn't so much as blink,"

 

[Mirdala'runi Beviin]

The droid's tendency for philosophical banter was not lost on Mirdala.

She watched quietly as its--his, she corrected herself--optics trained on a distant fire on the shore nearby. Wonder what a droid makes of fire, she thought with a snort. Then again, this particular droid might just see it as a tool, a hazard or a weapon; either way, Hiro probably seen it as something to be utilized. The Mandolorian daughter found her eyes straying to the fire as well; when was the last time she thought of anything other than utilization, applicable use or functionality? Judging by the strange words the droid uttered, she wondered who seemed more machine now, her or the HK droid?

She shrugged the thought off--and the urge to put her helmet on--and gave the droid a wary, distrusting glance. "Not much to say," she said with a slow shrug, "you have a name, you have a face and you had a gun backing you up." She lifted her hands as if to ask him what more he needed. It was in her nature to be suspicious; in her line of work, the more data about you out in the galaxy, the more danger you were in. She decided to share a little detail however, in the hopes the droid would not dig too deep into her identity.

"I'm a lowlife mercenary," she admitted with a sigh.

"I see scum like that," a jerk of her head back the way they came, "on a regular basis, so you sort of get used to the whole weapon in your face bit." She paused their stroll to slap at a device that beeped in her pants pocket, silencing it. A wry smirk cut her face, a roguish palette coloring her features. "Even now work calls. I just happened to be off today. Or I was supposed to." She resumed their stroll and after a moment of contemplative silence, she snorted. "I suppose a little pro-bono work won't kill me." She frowned. "Unless it does." Humorous, albeit dark; it was almost like her outlook on life at the moment.

Still, it would be a hard byte to swallow for the droid. She was barely out of her sixteenth Lifeday; it wouldn't be very hard to make some accurate assumptions about her heritage based on her professed livelihood at her age. "I found I was handy with a blaster and a blade and chose to make a living out of it. An almost legal one," she added with another sharp smirk. And now I'm being asked to run home and fight in a war. She shook her head slowly. Honor, glory, that whole nerfing way of life had been hammered into her from the womb and it was what was making her feel guilty now.

"Well, I doubt I've got much more interesting to say about me, mate. What is it you do, Hiro?"

 

[Chairdor]

Hiro noted Mirdala's simple tale, it was a story borne by warriors, soldiers, cut throats, and thieves. Those good with a blaster or blade forged their existence by cutting through the tenements of society or upholding them. Either way they bore their own scars and memories. He had met many an old soldier and many a good soldier, but so far no old good soldiers as the saying went. Still this young lady seemed to have a good head on her shoulder which led the droid to again be glad that it wasn't blown off her during todays unfortunate events. Her question gave Hiro a strange warmth, then a heat, like that fire he had been looking at. The droid noticed Mirdala had been looking at it as well so he decided to clarify what had intrigued him before answering her verbalized inquiry.

"That fire is my father ya know?" the droid said matter o factly as he continued walking along, the flames dancing yet still on the pile of logs.

"Ya see everything started with fire, there ain't a world around I heard of that didn't start with a spark an two sticks or somethin like it...then that spark made a flame and all yall sentients burned a mighty legacy, from guns to blasters, from boats to space ships...until well...until me...if necessity is the mother of invention man was the father and yet without memory I sort of feel like an orphan...so sometimes it's nice to see reminders that I'm part of the greater progress of the galaxy, if anything I'm a monument to how far we've all come...though I have no intention of turning into a statue anytime soon..."

As he continued to walk he looked to Mirdala, the red tint of his mask's goggles upon her as he at last answered her actual question,

"I'm a wanderer, I do all sorts of odd jobs, and I stress the odd aspect, I've been up and down the galaxy now and I guess if I could say what I was in one word...I'd go with confused, ya see when I work up my last work detail was to deliver a message, so I guess I was a Courier, but when I lost my memory, I lost the message...an whats a courier without a message?"