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Nar Shaddaa, Industrial Complex 11/13 “The Maw”
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Star Wars: Unity Forum Index » Hutt Space » Nar Shaddaa, Industrial Complex 11/13 “The Maw”
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Joined: 17 Sep 2010
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 Post Posted: Mon, October 11th 2010 05:15pm    Post subject: Nar Shaddaa, Industrial Complex 11/13 “The Maw”
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The soft clicking noise echoed through the dimly-lit metal corridors of the dead factory. Machinery sat unused and unmaintained in the massive expanse of the abandoned recycling center, wearing layers of dust and grime like second skins. The building, a squat circular tower that blended in with the rest of the Vertical City’s landscape, was filled with crisscrossing conveyor belts piled high with junk, scrap, and the occasional salvageable part. These conveyor belts wound through various disintegrator stations, where their contents would have been slagged into their composite materials before making their way to the gaping hole in the center of the factory floor. The dumping pit that had given the building its nickname was over fifty meters wide and nearly two hundred deep. The molten metal that had once filled it to the brim had solidified, the thermal generators having long since lost power.


High above the smelting area, a network of catwalks stretched from one end of the room to the other. Some were wide, some thin, some had rails, some didn’t, and some were almost the size and shape of landing pads than actual walkways. Above them all, on a central platform large enough to accommodate a speeder truck, a figure was seated behind a gleaming silver repulsordesk, a rectangular slab roughly two meters long and half a meter wide. The figure was hidden by the shadows cast from the chains and defunct droid assembly arms hanging from the ceiling, but a single hand, a blue-gray metal hand with jointed fingers resembling the claws of a reptilian predator, sat on the desk beneath the edge of the shadows. Three faint points of light glowed softly from where the figure’s head would be, but they failed to illuminate any other features.


The hand was tapping a rhythm on the desk as the figure waited. Each finger ticked against the metal in complete synch, four times a second, followed by a half-second pause and then another four ticks. A perfect mathematical pattern, looping over and over in the darkness. The sound echoed in all directions, reverberating off the walls and machinery until it became distorted and soft, sounding more like faint footsteps.

After a length of time passed, the ticking noise was joined by real footsteps, boots clomping up the catwalk towards the center platform. The figure ceased its ticking, holding the clawed hand flat against the metal surface of the desk as it was joined by three beings. A rough-looking pair, the Gran and Trandoshan dragged a human male between them, the latter’s boots thumping on the stairs as they ascended. His form was slack, but his chest was still moving heavily. Blood flowed from a dozen cuts and bruises on his face and upper body, and his spacer’s tunic was torn open over his chest. When the two thugs reached the top of the stairs, they took another four steps towards the desk before dropping their charge to the floor unceremoniously.

He lay there, gasping for breath and slowly curling into a fetal ball from the pain of his injuries as the figure in the shadows studied him. After a moment he raised his hand, the shadows receding to reveal an equally-artificial forearm. A mechanically-tinged voice emerged from the darkness. “You may leave.” The thugs nodded, their hands drifting away from the blasters on their belts as they turned to descend back towards the factory floor. The human half-craned his neck to watch them go as the figure stood from the shadows, the trio of colored lights rising as he did. There was a soft hiss of hydraulics and the clank of metal on metal as he slowly strode around the desk…and 8t88 stepped forward from the shadows.

8t88’s photoreceptors locked onto the human’s gaze as he stared up at the droid. 8t88 knew that his height was often a source of unease for many organics, particularly those who were shorter than two meters. He could detect an increase in the human’s heart rate as he took a few steps closer, towering over the man. “Now then,” he said, his vocabulator speaking with a refined, if droid-like Coruscanti accent, “let’s get down to business.”
8t88 - Criminal Kingpin, Information Broker
"When someone desires information...they come to me."
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