Dawn of Defiance: Buffalo NY

This is Your Droid on Darkside Points

Thoughts from Nemo

A dull green light bathed the dark room. The light shone from a massive droid’s cyclopean optical sensor, fitted squarely in the middle of its large bulbous head-torso. It was late at night and Nemo’s charges were all sleeping, as organics are so troublesomely prone to doing. Nemo didn’t care either way, as long as they kept themselves out of trouble, which this particular band of organics was woefully inept at. Aside from keeping an eye out for assassins, there wasn’t much for Nemo to do during downtime, so he chose this time to remember. Viewing the data in his memory banks was considered a mostly-useless recreation activity by droids and organics alike, but Nemo found purpose in it. To keep himself on-task and remember orders given to him. He thought back to what times were like on his homeworld, whose name he didn’t bother to record. Khalic would know it and the droid didn’t plan on allowing him to receive any sudden head blows anytime soon.

Nemo was in the machine shop. The dogs of Palpatine were nowhere to be seen and there was a notable lack of bounty hunters, criminals or threats in general save for the overhead light fixture with the loose screw. He was completely stripped of all his hard, bulky armor, leaving a slimmer, but still very large droid to work in solitude as his master slept. His large left arm hefted a stack of pipes roughly 6 inches in diameter as he reviewed the measurements Khalic wanted cut for his next project. He laid them down on his workbench, making a deafening clang that echoed throughout the shop, but only as far as the soundproofed walls on Khalic’s living quarters. Nemo slid over the first pipe as his vibro-edged chainsaw began to spin. He held the pipe firm, pressing the deadly blade down on the spot Khalic wanted cut, his mechanical eye making no mistake about the measurement. Sparks showered Nemo’s body as the neatly-cut pipe dropped to the floor and rolled out of sight. He slid the next segment over and repeated the process, making the necessary adjustments to the measurements. He sawed clean through and slid over the next segment. Nemo set his sights on a spot nine inches from the top of this pipe. He once again held it firm, bringing the blade down precisely on that spot.

The pipe screamed. Nemo ignored it. Screaming didn’t have any place in his cutting work, nor was there anyone else in the workshop but him. He made no mistake. With a plop, the sawed segment fell to the floor and rolled away, leaving a red trail. He tossed the other half of the segment aside and drew the next one over. This pipe oddly resembled a human wearing a dirty jacket and a black armband, fear filling his eyes as Nemo stared down at him. Nemo ignored this pipe’s abnormality, reminding himself that a pipe was a pipe and it was his job to cut it. Without slowing his workpace, he eyed up the five segments Khalic wanted this one divided into. Nemo brought the saw down exactly five times, the shower of metal sparks staining his torso and limbs red as the segments all fell to the floor with another satisfying plop. He slid the next piece over. This one looked like a human too.

“Go on, finish it….”

Nemo granted the pipe’s request, not out of kindness, but out of the fact that the pipe’s request happened to be identical to Nemo’s job. He brought the sawblade down without a second thought. He didn’t even need to think about it. This work was repetitive and didn’t require much of his processing power at all. Cut. Next segment. Cut. Next segment…. He brought segment after segment over, clearing his blade through all of them without any kind of compassion. Stormtrooper. Stormtrooper. Officer. Mutant. Mutant. Stormtrooper. Thug. Thug. Thug. Droid. Thug. Droid. Wookie. Bounty hunter. Guard. Monster. Part by part they all fell to the floor, rolling off into the heap of sawed pipe segments. If there was anything strange about this, Nemo didn’t care enough to notice it. This was the job he was programmed for, and he executed it flawlessly. Khalic’s only thought for this droid was to design him to cut enemies, he’d never done anything else. An enemy was an enemy and it was his job to cut it. Nemo was becoming very good at his job, a fulfilling thought. What droid would want anything more? The way they screamed in pain and fear told him he was doing his job well, and that alone kept his motivator unit from going bad. Nemo vaguely remembered something about sawing pipes, but he ignored it. His databanks only recorded a single job for him, “Detect threats and eliminate.” This was a reassuring find. Nemo knew his mechanical brain was seldom mistaken.

The group of organics awoke in a hotel room coated with blood, a sign Nemo had been working hard. Nemo came out of sleep-mode and attached the vibrosaw to his forearm. It’d be another busy day at work.

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