The Book of Whills: An Unexpected Space Wizard Tale

Edit: I apologize for a section of this chapter being broken, I thought I had cancelled out the edit, but apprently I pressed the button that saved it. So I fixed it back. But soon I'll edit it back like I originally meant to. Enjoy.

Edit of an Edit: I fixed it back like I orginally meant.

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Reluctant, Watto stands up, before walking past me on the farthest end of the archway, "You think dah'boiz next door'll stay still after you do this? Hehe." Watto chuckles, thinking that I'm ignorant of his traps and schemes, before stepping down the stairs.

Stopping him just before he reached the exit, I warn him once more, poking my 44 into his chest, and waving my gun side to side as I warn him, "Listen here, don't fuck around now..." smiling at him, I reaffirm my statement, "... If I catch a glimpse of your boiz, or if you scream, run, fly, or even look at me funny - I'll kill ya ass mothafucka, you understand me? Because right now we are way past the point of being civilized."

With small beads of sweat forming on his face, fear and anxiety began to once more fill Watto, his fear originating from the look of my eyes, and the anger and excitement in my voice.

"You may continue." I signal him on, waving my revolver towards the entrance of the Junkyard.

Following behind Watto, I hear a call from behind me, "Tyr? What are you doing?"

Stopping right before the exit, and grabbing Watto by the back of his vest, I present a calm smile, just to relax the tense situation, "I think its about time I started my capital ventures... I'll be back momentarily... and make sure to apply bacta spray those cuts, the fasteners had rust on them"

Shmi slowly nods her head.

"If you gonna rob me, rob me eh?" Watto intervenes the moment, becoming irritated by the entirety of the situation, and ready for this day to be over.

I love how eager he is for me to take his loot, "I can't just let you walk in there by yourself, that would be rude of me, and I don't have the indecent caricature of a common thief - I'ma sometimes refined man."

Deceitfulness is next to corporate managerliness, and thankfully Watto doesn't know that the pre-me was also a little bit of a rat, laughing as scenes run through my mind, remembering on how pre-me snuck glances of blueprints, planted bugs to overhear conversations, hacked into his droids, and how he slipped mind altering roofies into his Huttese Ale once he got drunk, knocking his ass out, then going through his datapad and computer, but in true rat behavior - that's just the tip of this here iceberg.

A couple years ago, I - or he, in preperation, learned the mind boggling, nonsensical lexicon of nouns and verbs that is Gamorrese - for an ambush on two green bi-pedal swine, and their EV Supervisor droid, of which oversaw the delivery of the usual supply shipment. And, when the day of the delivery finally came, and when they arrived, delivered, and went through their normal procedure of Watto signing his name, dotting his I's and crossing his T's, and all that good shit, they then began to leave - but as they were departing, pre-me tailed them, stalking them on the rooftops, stepping around and in-between the domed roofs, and jumping onto flats. Tracking them as they walked the streets, oblivious to the hunter pursuing them from above.

Good thing nobody looks up. True Gamers.

Walking through the streets, the Gamorreans then began their usual irritated rowdyism: pushing the nearby locals – and shoving them to the sides of the street, keeping them from crowding around, and beside them as they hurried on to their next destination. And as their bodies are scorched – dried, and overheated as the droid mercilesslesly trudges on from to station to station, it withered them even more – from their already sun burned, dehydrated status, which nulled their already dulled senses – causing them to have an even shorter fuse. And so... to keep his 'primitive' pig guards in line, and from harassing the local street vendors paying the protection fee – they turned down into a blind alley, and just like opportunity presenting itself like clockwork, (yes), pre-me took advantage by ambushing the Gamorreans from above: aiming to tranquilize them with darts filled with Symoxin – shot from the Scrap Tranq Rifle he had made prior...

... Staying above the left side of the alley, pre-me waited silently, aiming at them, while trailing right behind. And as he waited – the left Gamorrean guard then looked down – unknowingly leaving the left side of its neck exposed as it went to kick a womp rat crossing its path: causing its helmet to shift, and allowing him a clean 3-inchs, before firing the chambered dart from thirty yards. Pulling up, and back on the bolt handle – and opening the chamber of the gas compressed tranq rifle, he cycles another dart out of the rusty DIY camtono mag cylinder – before chambering it, swiftly – and firing it with an even sharper accuracy: this time hitting the porkchop on the right; striking the side of its neck as it turned facing me, looking up toward its left. And as pre-me peeled back behind the ledge, as the Gamorrean snapped it's head towards him after it was hit – he peeks over ever so slightly, and watches as the Gamorreans slowly back away, leaving the syringes still in their necks as they looked around frantically, with the instinct to run punching them in the gut, and plaguing their mind like a flea. And, because the Gamorreans were so over taken by instinct, and so over-occupied by thinking – their thoughts became loud, meaning that they couldn't hear the droid scream in the background: yelling orders, and screaming about the darts flopping about on the front and back of their necks, "WE NEED TO LEAVE! AHH! AHH-EWWHUEEEH! OH! OH! I'M GONNA THROW UP THE OIL I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD! OH! OH MY-huehh - STOP MOVING YOUR HEADS! THEY'RE SWINGING!" noting the pigs cowardice, and to keep them from retreating, pre-me then jumped down into the far end of the alley, and just as he had expected previously, the Guards spotted him, and came rushing at him with axes in hand. But before the Gamorreans took their first five steps, pre-me had already shot two more darts into the each of them: cycling, and chambering the darts with a reciever that operates as smooth as butter.

Now, stumbling and shifting over their own legs as the symoxin began to take its effect, the Hamorreans huffed in exhaustion, with each next step becoming even heavier than their last. And as their arms too begin failing them – their weapons then betray them, acting not as a companion, but as an anvil toppling their stability, when suddenly the painkiller took its toll, bringing the charging grunts crashing down, and falling with their primitive axes in hand, almost as if there was a sudden hinderous weight set upon them. And as the pigs fell into unconsciousness, he began to rush the droid, whom of which began to scream terrified as I-FUCK I mean he, grappled its transmitter, before bringing it to its rusty, durasteel knees as he was trying his damn best to dislodge it - pulling with both his hands, and gaining extra leverage by placing both his feet on the shoulders of the droid, tugging maniacally, "WHY-WON'T-THIS-MOTHA-FUCKA-COME-OUT!"

... Hmmph.

Successfully dislodging the transmitter, and holding on to it as he fell on his back, he rolled backwards, up to his feet, and slid back towards the droid with haste - all the while unbuckling, and reaching into his pouch, quickly pulling out his special homemade data spike, before carefully inserting it into the droids port, allowing the spike to make contact with the droid's systems, beginning the injectors stored within, and quickly infecting the droid with all forms of computer sickness: all of which changed its commands, altered its memory banks, and copied its files. The virus also switched the droid's target discernment, turning the amusing droid into my ally.

With the droid finally docile, and the Gamorreans all good and properly sedated, he busted open and dragged both the green hams, and the droid, into one of the many nearest storage units, chaining the bits of bacon up, and questioning them on the recent schemes, and sordid activities of Watto and Jabba, while he had the droid sat quietly in the corner, patiently decrypting its files, as the spike allowed his computer to download all of its data: (droid access codes as well), remotely. And after gaining full entry, and after the slow, thorough interrogation, liquidation, and eventual disposal of the overevolved pigs, he went back to this computer with the droid packed into a crate, before implanting more file infectors, and kernel level rootkits deep into its system - so the next time the droid went to store or open files: the computer systems, servers, datapads, droids, anything that was connected to that system or server - would immediately become infected.

However this computer, the one used to store every log and file gathered, was hidden under a false panel, covered underneath the sand, and placed below an inconspicuous metal workbench; gathered with dust, and sitting in the corner of an abandoned cargo container; inside of an abandoned warehouse filled with abandoned cargo containers: settled firmly on the opposite side of the settlement; and, (it gets even better!), it's still only opened by pressing in five seamless panels, hidden underneath, in a nineteen digit sequence, before confirming the combination by kicking the chain attached underneath straight out, allowing for the workbench to popup, and slide to the side with ease, exposing a reinforced dugout which housed his, well - my secret things.

What an absolute deviant delinquent I was. An absolutely abberant machiavellian Maverick.

I apologize for not apologizing... but I won't apologize.

Still holding Watto by the collar, I dragged his ass outside the exit portal with me, "Huh? Choy jah chuta!?" All the way to the front of the archway, which acted as the entrance to his junkyard, and - before anyone could turn to bat an eye, I threw him through the top section of the arch, avoiding the sensors which were only set for the bottom half of the entrance.

I could've disabled the sensor in the shop, but that also sends a signal to "dah'boiz" in the casino.

Following right behind, I swing over the sensors using the top of the arch, and land onto safe, untrapped, unsensored ground, hilariously enough - making it all smooth sailing from here.

Unless one of "dah'boiz" come back here, THEN I'LL BLAST'EM.

"Ughh... tricky little bastard..." Watto groans. "Little?" I swipe my nose with my thumb before spitting in his general direction, "I wouldn't down the height of others when you're around dick level my friend, and you're at that level where if you make me mad enough - I'll lower my balls onto your fuckin' forehead and T-Bag your damn face." The clever gambler sits up with a scowl, even tempted to scream for 'DAH'BOIZ,' but that temptation was quickly squashed, as when he looked up, he felt the hot durasteel of my revolver press to his nose.

"We can't have a break yet. Now come on - hurry along." Waving my revolver between him and the fenced area in the back, I bring him up to his feet by his vest, and push him further into his scrap stacked labyrinth. And as we continued to walk, I could see the shiftiness of his eyes, which for some reason irritated me, so whenever he started to bug out, I gave him a simple, 'gentle' kick in return, interrupting his plotting, and leaving no room for him to think clearly.

Stepping through this scrap yard, the only resemblance of the scorching desert town around me were the loud noises of the teeming market strip, the smeltering heat made worse by this steel jungle, and the dust and sand which gather in the corners of the pressed path. And glancing further around at the scrap as I guided Watto towards the back, both old and new scrap were stacked and mixed together, with the small parts stuck inbetween, and tossed about inside cockpits, engines, whole halves of old, small starfighters, and cargo bays which were stacked ontop of, and beside each other. So much amassed usefulness for my ventures, pre-me did some work.

Encroaching upon my mark, I enter a more open, breathable space than the hall of scalding metal I was previously stomping through, with my target, the enfenced, enclosed area to my left, and the two story, double cargo container turned makeshift office in the far corner of my right; and - as a fun fact, this office has windows on the first floor that are lowered, allowing for Watto to see people coming when he's walking, and to have the walls add for coverage when he's flying; however, as I Ignored the office for the moment, I walk around the enfenced area - curious to see what this droid was while I kept my revolver trained on Watto, thinking I would have to use the force to find it, but there, with my visible eye I could see it.

Set in a charging station, with boxes around stacked high, and in positions where it was only visible by standing where I stood - was a B2... sitting there powered off, and complete eleven years before the clone wars... with a difference. The droid was shaped more humanoid, retaining some of its original size, and is just as, if not more heavily armored... and weaponized... with the only visible problem being the missing plating around the blaster, and it's sensor...

... Oh boy... now... it's time to see where these cables lead.

As my eyes crawled down the base of the station, and journey the cables connected to its outlet, I traced its winded ways as it twisted, and lined towards the wall, before bordering along its pourstone edges, and exiting out from under the fence - hiding itself beneath the piled sand. Stepping closer to the corner where the cable disappeared, I dig my foot into the grains: kicking, and dusting around, before recieving a catch atop my ragged boot.

Slightly raising the top of my foot out of the sand, and exposing the cable, I wave my fingers toward it, lifting it up with my force energy, before hooking it with my index finger. And, with the cable in my left hand, while still aimed at Watto with my right, I slowly began following the cable, revealing it from beneath the sand, and allowing it to trail off my index finger. But... as I continued to unravel the cable toward the makeshift office, my mischief was hindered: as it was fed up through a durasteel tube, and into the second floor, "Well-well... what do we have right here?"

NOTHING WILL KEEP ME FROM MY ILL-GOTTEN GAINS! Walking over towards the aluminum screen door, I grab onto the handle, before the wailing of sirens began resonating within my head. And, as I still held on, I looked back to Watto, catching a very modest glimpse of happiness, until he swiftly fixed his ugly mug.

Letting go of the handle, I step down, and place my hand onto the makeshift office: and once again bringing forth my will, I reinforce my mental focus, allowing me to commune with the midichlorians in my cells, and to use the energies of the force to touch, and to cover the entirety of the office, before examining it, and using Mechu-Deru to scan for any electrical, or mechanical entrapments, as I thinly spread the energies across the walls; the door; the desks; the chairs; the stairs; and the computer, and - despite my quick, intensive search: the only trap I could find was a mechanical alarm system, wired to the handle of the door.

AND IT ISN'T EVEN SOUND ACTIVATED, WHAT A CHUMP!

"HEHEHE..." Looking around, I search for piece of scrap I could use to bust out one of the windows, before noticing a rusty sleever bar leaned up against a plastic chair. Happily walking over, I pick up the sleever bar as I skipped over to Watto, psyching him out by pretending to hit him with it, (He screamed like a bitch), before situating myself as if I was on the green, preparing for a professional swing, "FOORREE!!"

Busting out the middle window with the chisel end, pieces of glass spray itself around me, and as I gently knelt down, I took the bar, and swiped around the frame, breaking away all the remaining shards of glass, before turning back to Watto, "Go in."

"What? You trynuh get me to cut my feet on the glass - huh?!" Watto, trying to delay the inevitable, questions me on whether or not I give a fuck.

And to him I would say behold: my field of fucks given; and note that it is barren.

Scratching my head, I give him an answer to his dilemma, "You got a vest."

With a sighful "Ughhh..." Watto waddles over, proceeding to take off his vest, and laying it down over the shards of glass, walking inside normally as it was about his height, before picking up his vest as he walked inside.

Stepping in right behind him, with sleever bar and revolver in hand, I had to step in crouched, and duck out from under a board walk placed around the walls, before standing upright in the middle of the space, stretching the ol' spine, and allowing my eyes to glance around the room: noting as I glanced the various gaudy toydarian decorations, the several different forms of paraphernalia like equipment bags and tools that were placed onto the desks, and onto the durasteel cabinets, and the multiple posters, and pictures sprawled across the walls, featuring female Twi'lek's inside pink latex, wearing matching pink latex masks, committing all forms, and I really do mean all the different forms of sensual debuachery, with the Toydarian's nest bed dangling by chains in the corner right of me, just underneath the top stair leading to the second floor.

"Seems you're a bug-like bat man of many tastes." Pushing the barrel to his back, I continue to push the Toydarian along, before recieving a little resistance in his webbed heels, "You know, I like my women in little latex too, but keep it in moderation, now walk up there, time isa driftin' - like the sand I'm gonna fuckin' bury you in if you don't take your ass up them stairs."

With a little more pep in his step, Watto began to lead me up the stairs, before I followed up right behind him, holding my revolver trained on the opening above...

... I'm still a novice to the force. I always make sure.

Grabbing onto his vest, and rushing him up the stairs, I keep aim with my revolver, and scan the entirety of the room with the iron sights, and peripherals of my vison as the second floor opened up, but - all that was there were some file cabinets: placed next to a desk made of pourstone, with Watto's tower computer sat upon it, facing out towards the scrap yard, with a familiar cable lining the edges of the room, and into a splitter placed underneath the desk, with two smaller cables connected up, one connecting into the back of the computer, and the other into the bottom drawer which contained a safe.

"It seems the trail has ended. Now - if you would do me a favor: go stand in that corner, hands above your head, with your eyes closed - AND NO FUCKIN' PEAKIN'!"

As Watto walked over and stood in the corner with his arms above him, I place my hands onto the desk to thoroughly scour its contents with my force energy, before feeling not one, but two safes. Hidden underneath the second safe, in a resealed drawer made to look like the rest of the desk, sat a safe a dozen times simpler than the one above. And I have a feeling that I know what might happen if I open the one above now.

Ignoring the safes and drawers for now, I turn my attention towards his computer. Turning it on, I was greeted by a password screen, and before I entered the password ... I made sure to check outside that damn window.

Opening the shade and looking out one of the four windows, the only one facing toward the chain-link cage containing the droid, I didn't see it moving, nor did I hear the sound of moving wood or metal.

phew.

Walking back towards the computer, I begin typing on its keys, entering the password given to me through my memories, before I was rejected, the bar shaking, and red letters spelling 'Incorrect Password' appearing as I press enter...

... this guy right here.

'That damn lokshaga!' Not hearing anything, not even a peep for minutes, Watto became increasingly impatient, as this whole scenario is not at all what he had expected. If things went awry, at worse he expected to sell me off, before blaming me: making the excuse that I had somehow magically disappeared in the middle of the night. And it's hilarious, because Joico, or whoever it was, would believe it, because pre-me was the negotiator, and general handler of the little details. And such a fact was why Jackass wanted Watto to cut out my tongue, because not only did I tell them to fuck off, (when I deemed it appropriate), but because they knew I knew too much, and Joico wanted to keep Watto indebted, as he was sentimental towards him, not as a friend, but as the same reason why a child keeps their dead gold fish. 'Where is he?' Peeking from around his right, he peered around to the file cabinet, not seeing me, before looking to the desk: not seeing me there either; and as his impantience turned to worry: worrying about me escaping with his loot with his back turned, Watto slowly began to turn his head, turning over to his right, but then, right then, he could feel it: a light gust of wind, blowed from my shallow breath.

Turning his head further, ever so slightly, there I was, almost nose to nose with me, as he remained completely still - petrified in the heat of fear as I looked deep into his eyes - unblinking, before speaking to him, "... Watto..." Continuing to peer into his eyes, Watto, in a hesitant manner, fully turned his head toward me, "W-What?" He lightly muttered, not able to stare back into mine, "Didn't I say no peeking?"

Watto's bottom lip quivers, turning his head back towards the corner, "Look me in the eye when I'm talkin' to you boy!"

Watto, snapping his head back towards me in anger looks to me, before I hit him with an open handed slap, "DON'T LOOK AT ME!" Smacking his face back in the corner from the force of my slap, I could feel his rage boiling, like a roilin' pot of murderous stew.

AND DAMN DOES IT TASTE GOOOD.

With his fear still rampant, and his rage high, he remembers he made two seperate passwords, one which gave entrance - and one that's more destructive. And as he tries to hide his snaggletooth smile, he had the idea to give me the more consequential one, "hehe, It's Ziatchaeta F-Four-Five-One-Two-Zero-Eight-"

BEEEP WRONG! LIAR! SSTRIKE ONE!

"WHAT IS IT DAMNIT!" Screaming in his face as the metal ceiling began to bend from the power of my voice... neat, Watto curled in the corner, screaming "THAT'S IT! I-I SWEAR I'M NO-" pulling him up by his vest, I give him two more good 'light' slaps, before shaking him, "DON'T YOU LIE TO ME DICKWEED OR I'LL! –" measuring out his wide mouth with my hands, I pretend to slam his measured teeth onto the corner of the desk – before leaning down towards him, and pointing at him with both index fingers, "– introduce those CROOKED ass teeth – to this here stone corner, and just continously SMASH EM' FUCKIN'~ IN – TILL YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO WRITE IT DOWN, BECAUSE NEWSFLASH~ MOTHAFUCKA! YOU DON'T HAVE THE TEETH TO TALK ANYMORE! NOW! –" grabbing him by his leather vest, I shake him again – pulling out my 44, and nestling it underneath his chin: allowing my pinky and ring finger to rest upon the trigger, with the pistol grip snugged firmly into my hand, "You better start spittin' out somethin' – because I'll tell you this trigger doesn't have a whole lot of resistance right now – and if I press too far up..." shifting both my hands up closer to his collar, and pushing the barrels of the blaster further into the bottom of his chin, I look into his eyes, staring as if I was trying to read his soul, "... I'll 'accidentally' fuckin' pull it – and that's not a possibility, but an actuality. And if this blaster goes off angled like it is–" breathing out while shaking my head with a feigned smile, I warn him from future stupidity, " – Brotha... it may not kill you right away. And it would be extremely painful for you to have to make this difficult for me, because I don't want to have to mop up your blood, and I really don't want to have to pick up your skull fragments and chunks of your flesh – so... just in case you didn't understand, and to make it to where there can be absolutely no precedents, or misunderstandings – allow me to reiterate: I'LL BLOW OFF YOUR FUCKIN' FACE!"

Now almost stabbing my blaster into his jaw, I made sure Watto perfectly understood – BECAUSE HE BETTER! "OKAY! OKAY! IT'S Z-ZAPHAETA O-ONE-" Butting him on the nose with the ends of the barrels, I yell out "MORE PASSION! CAUSE I DARE YOU! I DOUBLE DOG, NO – TRIPLE DOG DARE YOU TO LIE TO ME AGAIN MOTHAFUCKA! BECAUSE I'M JUST JONESIN' TO FUCK YOUR BLUEBERRY ASS UP AGAIN!" As he rapidly spit out the rest, "AHGH! TWO-NINE-SIX-FIVE! YOU'RE LOCA BOY!" Holstering back my revovler, I point to myself, "I'M CRAZY?! You're the person who's testing the patience of an unhinged, physically aggressive twelve year old waving around a fuckin' blaster! You deserve an award!"

"You are robbing me of my things! I'm not going to give them to you easily!" Walking back towards the computer, I enter the password and access its main screen, "And I could argue that YOU DON'T HAVE A DAMN CHOICE!"

"Ughh..."

Accessing the application meant to control the droid, there were two tabs, the droid, and the safe in the drawer. Clicking on the safe's tab, I notice a command that had been summarized: It was obviously the command to open the safe, however - IT'S FAKE!

That's right, there is nothing in that safe, nothing but DEATH! Did you forget about the cable? That's because its used to alert the droid – and power it on when the safe is opened.

But for the second safe - that's a different story.

It's not your conventional safe, infact you could barely call it a safe. It didn't have a safe's conventional locking mechanisms, or combination protection - because it was but a simple twist and pull container, mainly used to transport supplies, money, drugs, and cerveza cristal. Es única, grande y nuestra!

Now you may ask yourself - What is it? Well I'll show you: stepping back from the keyboard, I hold the sleever bar like a bat, before swinging it with all my might into the sealed drawer below, smashing it in, and sending pourstone debris all over the floor, walls, and back of Watto.

"W-what are you doing!?" Watto not even turning his head, questions me on my devious vandalism, "Just-uh... some interior redecoration."

Crouching, I stick the sleever bar into the open hole, before receiving a very loud snap of a metal trap in return. Pulling the bar back out, and on the end of the sleever bar, was a durasteel spike trap mainly used for trapping Massiff's: a trap made to exert enough force, that it could snap the animal's bone, meaning that it could pinch off a human arm: skin, flesh, bone and all...

... Setting the bar back down onto the ground, I reach my arm into the now safe hidey hole, before pulling out a simple camtono, filled with all the necessities for the freedom of Shmi, and the foundational finance of my soon to be empire.

Curiosity having killed the cat, Watto couldn't take anymore, turning his head towards my direction, only to see me sifting through all his Financial Data Rods, Shmi's Deactivation Wand, and his data tapes containing his land deeds inside of the camtono, "STOP! I TREATED YOU GOOD! WE HAD IT MADE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!" Watto began to scream, almost unable to contain himself as I went through his every asset. And while I do say his, pre-me is the actual saviour of this dry dump, having made Watto over 3,735 peggats over the course of two years, not to mention the scrap deals, and supply contracts Watto would of never had, part and due to his long history of rat-like behavior, chronic gambling addiction, and general sloppiness when it comes to 'jobs.'

Turning my head to him, it seems he never realized what he had done wrong, "We did have it made... didn't we? But, if my memory serves me right, it was you who wanted the shiny new metal toy my friend. It was a simple task I thought we all understood, vandalize the code, take the fuckers money, and scram." Finishing up my organization, I close back the camtono, "... But I guess that's too much for some of us to handle - well not me, because I have plans: I'm gon' take all this right here, and build me a damn Imperium!"

Watto, not being made a fool, nor a stone for the kingdom, decided he would take back what is now partially, rightfully his...

... Making sure that I wasn't facing towards him, and determining that it was now or never, he took his chance to strike, rushing me while my back was turned, while preparing to hit me over the head with both his fists, in a flying, downwards blow.

Catching onto the fast patter of webbed feet, and a gust of wind, I dodge to the side as I feel a chill down my spine, and a sudden wave of heat over my body, rolling to the left as Watto missed his mark, resulting in him fracturing the bottom of both his hands by smashing the keyboard, and pourstone desk below. "AGHH!"

Hearing a beeping tone from the monitors speaker, I prepare to drop kick Watto, before noticing the look in his eyes - it was of fear and pain of course, but not from me - but from the direction of the window.

Ohhh shiiiitttt...

Both rushing towards the window, pushing and pulling back on each other, we look out of it, not hearing anything, nor seeing anything...

... Until a robotic, humanoid shaped hand reached around the edge of the shipping crate, and shoved it aside like it were a sack of fuckin' potatoes.

OHHH SHEEIITTTT!

"ACTIVATING BLASTER SYSTEMS..."

Oh that's fine.

"ACTIVATING ROCKET TARGETING SYSTEM..."

....

Watto, preparing to make his escape, looks to see where I am, and saw that I was no longer standing next to him, "YOU SLIMEY BASTARD!"

Running back to the desk, I quickly grab the camtono, and before I left, I ripped open the side of the desktop computer, pulling out its hardrives, before opening the camtono and stuffing them inside, including anything I found scrounging through the drawers and file cabinets, mainly by using the force to quickly sift through the garbage, and snatch anything of interest.

Although, that didn't mean Watto made it easy for me. Rotating around the room as I was looting, I dodged his grapples, and deadly flying hugs by rolling underneath, and towards the desk, taking a little from there, then breaking his ankles as I moved back towards the cabinet, before taking some more, "KARK! YOU'RE MORE SLIPPERY THAN ME YOU LITTLE CHIT!"

"HAHA! I KNOW RIGHT?!" Strafing behind him for the last time, and taking the last remaining bit of loot he had, we heard an activation that would send us both out the room, "ROCKETS ENGAGED..."

PEW~ A large red bolt of plasma was shot through the window, and into the roof of the office from its angle, almost singeing off Watto's left wing, which caused him to dive somewhere, and surprising the shit out of me.

"FIRING..."

OHOO~ FUCK THIS! - Sprinting toward the window, loot and camtono in hand, I jump out of it and land on the farthest end, when the droid fired its rocket: entering through the hole made by its blaster bolt, before exploding when it ricocheted off the cieling and into the floor, completely annihilating the second story, and top half of the first - sending metal shrapnel, sheets, debris, burnt papers, and pourstone all over the junkyard, and into the street on the other side of the wall, hearing the screams of women, and the yells of men as they were trying to figure out what was going on.

Landing behind a thin durasteel barrier, I look back to the aftermath, "What kind of fuckin' wrist rocket is that?!"

"What? You made it! Lucky wermo, if it had been the shoulder rocket this nightmare would have been over!" Looking to my right, Watto was also hiding behind the barrier, unable to leave as the droid watching our only escape, before hearing the tug of the durasteel gate entrance, listening as the droid kept trying to open it, before suddenly stopping - possibly hearing the harsh gutteral sounds of an Aqualish, the groaning basic of a human male, and the cockney of an Uurgrin as they got closer.

Hearing the loud voices of his boiz, Watto called for them, and I didn't stop him, because I really want to see what happens, "Baba! Cornelius! Urrack! Baacckk heerree!"

Hurrying down the scrap halls, the three stooges came charging out together, giving Watto his much needed cover and courage to make his escape, running towards them, before the grey, short-tusked Uurgrin stood infront of him, "Boss! Wot iz go'n-" the Uurgrin's appearance was cut short as his corpse flew to the side, a 5-inch carterized hole suddenly opening the right side of his chest, and sending the dumb bastard rolling through the sand.

Immediately diving again for cover, the Toydarian crawled back towards me, before flying on all fours into a cabinet fell over with scrap stacked on top of it, closing the doors behind him, and leaving the remaining two stooges high and dry as they took cover behind their own barrier, a thick pourstone half-wall... lucky them.

Cornelius, the disfigured pig man, caught me peeking from over the barrier, watching the chaos unfold with a grin, "WAS THIS YOUR DOING?! HA! I TOLD JOICO HE SHOULD OF BURIED YOU! YOU WALKING EMBRYO! YOU'LL MAKE A FINE SPECIMEN FOR MY-" Unholstering my 44 while ducking down, I lay on my back and slide quarter way out the barrier, before blasting the young mad doctor's exposed ankle, cauterizing his left foot right from it, before sliding back behind the barrier.

"AHHH! AHAAGGHHH! AHHAAAAGGHH! KILL HIM PONDAAAHH!" Screaming from behind the barrier, the Aqualish began to take pot shots towards me, denting and piercing the barrier with his blaster pistol, and accidentally hitting the cabinet which hid the Toydarian, "AHH! I'M IN HERE YOU FOOL!"

"GRUA THUN!" The Aqualish apologized, before rolling back behind his side of the wall, looking to see where the droid was from around the corner, before the droid began taking its own shots towards them, leaving holes in the fence entrance, and blasting chunks out their wall.

"Cornelius, baroo asso tua grua thun..." Ponda, feeling that the situation was dire, began to make his own escape, though not by crawling: but running to his own safety, "Ponda! What are you doing! NOOO!"

Sliding back out, I lead my aim, blasting towards the Aqualish's head, missing - because the droid had killed him first: sending his corpse sliding across the ground from the impact of the bolt, which caused my own bolt to bounce off a piece of scrap, and hit somewhere off towards Evazan.

Sliding back into cover, after witnessing the Aqualish eat sand as he slid across the pourstone slabs, I laugh my ass off, which thoroughly pissed off McUgly.

Forgetting his own form of protection, and needing some badly, Evazan began to crawl proned to his friends body, pretending to cut a deal with me as he tried to reach for Ponda's Blaster Pistol, "I-If you let me live, I won't tell the Alliance! I-I swear it! You'll never see me-" Sliding back out, Cornerlius grabbed the blaster and tried to quick draw on me, shooting, and missing - but I didn't. Blasting his wrist, and decapitating his right hand from his arm for his lies, Evazan began to squirm and roll around in the sand, "AHAAGHHHH! AHAAGGHH! I'LL DISSECT YOUU! AAHH-AHH! AHAAGH!"

Busting out of its cage, the Alsakan hushed his crying, wrapping his stub as he layed behind the barrier, silent as the droid walked into, and scanned the area, covering the yard with its red hue. Finishing the dressing of his wounds, the human swine held tightly onto Ponda's blaster with his remaining hand, no idea what he was going to do as a slow, raging madness began to crawl, made worse by his agonizing situation: he was almost ready to throw his life away, just to crawl over so he could kill me with his own one hand. I LIKE IT! HE'S GOT SPUNK! And as he continued to hear the knock of death's door become closer, with every heavy metal clank of the droids layered durasteel foot: he began preparing himself for his demise. Ready to roll out of cover, and just start blastin'.

... Before the droid then powered down, saving the disfigured fucked-face's life as I used my force energy to touch the Droid, inspecting it with my Mechu-Deru, and spreading the energy of the force through its components, eventually finding a wire, connected to the power packs and energy cells, before disconnecting it: disturbing the power flow of the droid, and causing it to kick in its fail-safe protocols, turning it, and its weapons systems completely off.

Cornelius - layed on his back, looked towards the droid in a laughing madness, and a sigh of relief, "HA! HAHA! YOU'RE KARKING DEA-PEW~ AHHAAAGHHH! AAHAAHhAAGGH!" Blasting his left hand from his last wrist, Evazan pounded the ground with his arms, shaking his head left and right like a tantruming child, and screaming as he cursed the day I arrived, making creative threats on how he could turn me and Shmi into sacks of living flesh. DAMN! HE IS SO PERSISTENT! I'm actually starting to like him!

Walking out from behind the barrier, after disabling Cornelius's ability to shoot a blaster... or so I thought - as he was using his left stub to try and stabilize, and his right to pull the trigger, the fucker kept trying to kill me: shooting red bolts off into the air, and bolts that ricocheted off the durasteel scrap behind me, he screamed unintelligible insults, and death wishes towards me as he was kicking, and bouncing back towards the scrap hall, trying to escape by climbing over the corpses of his friends, while spraying, and painfully praying for a bolt to hit me.

Laying my left hand onto the droid as I walked over to it, I reconnect the wire that I had previously disconnected, and knowing that at any moment I could end up with a cauterized hole somewhere in me, I power back on the droid, focusing my mind, and willing the force to invade into the processing unit, so that I could re-enable its whitelist, and authorize me through its sensor, allowing the droid to go into standby mode: having an ally idling next to it.

Hearing nothing but the screaming of Cornelius, the pews~ of Ponda's blaster, and the powered off tone of the droid, Watto looks out the holes rusted out on the cabinet door: peeking through, and seeing my back turned towards him. And never the one to miss opportunity - and truly showing it, Watto suddenly busted out of the cabinet, using his wings, and all four of his limbs to push himself into the air, and over the barrier, in another daring attempt to land devastating double hammer slam onto the back of my skull - SSTRIKE TWO! But before he was close enough to land the ambush - the back heels of both my boots imprinted itself into Watto's big ass nose, flipping him underneath me, as his face and body made contact with the pourstone path below, and sliding him into a roll. Kinda like the Aqualish and Uurgrin before him.

After drop kicking the rowdy toydarian in a 45° angle, and knocking him out of his senses, I walk closer towards him, before laying my hand back onto the droid, and giving it a command through the will of my intention: "Disarm the screaming fucker; show him an organ or two: then handle my light work."

As the Toydarian lay a couple feet away, he comes out of his daze with the lyrics of an unfamiliar song, and the scream of Evazan as he fired his blaster, "Mr. Lova-Lovaa - Hm? ... Mr. Lova Lovaa - No? Sorry I'm Mr. Bombastic, I'm not your Romantic, I'm not your typical-lyrical lova-they called me Erratic-" As I was bobbing in a circular motion to the beat in my head, Watto watched in terror at the scene behind, watching as the droid grabbed hold of Evazan's forearm, the one holding the blaster, before crushing it, and tearing it from his tricep. "AAHHHH! AAHAAAAGGHHH!" Screaming his lungs out, as he tried to roll away, and crawl from this nightmare, the droid rolls Cornelius over, and holds him still with its foot, before engaging its vibroblade, and slicing open his guts - not even feeling it until the droid reached in, grabbed hold, and pulled out his "... KIDNEY..." with some of his intestines wrapped around its hand.

"AAHAAAHHHH! YOU KAARKING MONSTER! AAhHAAHAHHGGGHH!" cutting in mid way, yelling over his screaming, I shout back: "WHAT?! I'M FUCKIN' FANTASTIC!" Standing infront of Watto, I lower my head towards him, "Are you enjoying the show? Don't you understand? If you keep stepping over the line - you habitual fuckin' line stepper, I just might do something FFUCKIN' UNPRECEDENTED!" blasting holes through the Toydarians right wing, I permanently solidify my statement, "AHAGGHHH! MY WING! YOU'RE BANTHA POODOO!" Trying to grab onto his wing, as he rolled on the ground from the burning sensation, Watto still didn't understand what I was trying to say to him, but the droid behind me did all the talking as it was still playing Operation with the mad doctor's organs, "Would you please shut up his fuckin' screaming! PLEASE!" Releasing Evazan of his pain, well, not atleast for 8 more seconds, the droid placed its robotic hand around his head, "AHHGAACHHAA - JUST KILL ME! -" before crushing his front cranium, and tearing his head from his body. And - with his torn neck and vertebrae still attached, the droid holds his head infront of its red sensor, identifying it as "... HEAD..." before tossing him behind it, causing Evazan's head to bounce off, and roll towards my boot.

Kicking the head to the side, and stepping back, I take aim at Watto's head, and as he once again regained his senses from the pain, he was thrown into an outrage: "Its my business! JEE CHESSO! WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS! JEE BUITA KASU! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" lowering the blaster a little bit, I correct Watto on the current workings of my mind, "I made you more fuckin' moolierah than what your entire business was worth; and all I needed was some peace and fuckin' quiet to make it. But instead: I was rewarded with a shitty lie, a literal slap to the fuckin' face, and knife to my damn throat. So if you think I care whether or not I have a fuckin' right..." looking him in the eyes as I lower myself closer towards him, "... then you're once again sadly mistaken, my friend." Laughing at the Toydarians misunderstanding as I flick his nose with my revolver, I give him another free way out, "Listen, I'll sweeten the blow: I'll give you - tax free - money and share-holdings to start a new life... and all you have to do is fuck off somewhere out the way, and free fuckin' money will flow your way babes, not bad huh? -" "rRAGGH! DAMN YOU! YOU, AND YOUR BARGON! I KEEP WHAT I OWN! THAT INCLUDES THIS SHOP! YOU! AND THAT USELESS SHOO CHEESMA OF YOURS! And~ hehe... If you don't want her head to POP! I suggest you give me back my - HUUGCKK‐GCKAACHH" Enraged by the GALL of this flying circus, I grab hold of his throat using the pressure of the force: choking him as if I was trying to squeeze his head off, and watching as his eyes rolled to the very back of his skull, before letting go as he fell into unconsciousness, passing out from the lack of oxygen to his wallnut sized brain.

Holstering my revolver after looking around once more at the damage, I pick up the gambler's unconscious body, picking off his pouch full of wupiupi, truguts, and peggats, before walking over, and placing his body next to the droid: who was now busy cutting up, and dismembering the corpses - and discarding their body parts into bins, which it would take to later Incinerate the incredibly incriminating evidence, completely removing any trace to the demise of Watto's boiz, "Activate your keeper protocols then wrap him up, muzzle em', and stick him in that storage container over there with an AC." Pointing towards a cargo container, with its entrance sticking out of the scrap stacked around and ontop of it, the droid raises its thumb. "... ROGER... ROGER..."

Walking over and entering into the enfenced area, I amble over next to the droids docking station, opening a toolbox sat next to it, before reaching in, and pulling out a roll of industrial grade tape with that real thick adhesive on it: we're talkin' pullin' your mothafuckin skin off type shit, before tossing it towards the droid as I exited out of its cage. The droid, then leaning down and picking up the tape, unrolled a strip as it walked overtop Watto, placing the tape onto his wrists, before rolling it around in thick layers, doing the same to his legs and wings, before placing several long strips over wide ass mouth.

I'm not worrying about pulling his skin off, because not only do I not care, but because we have a cracked out versions of detachol, but we also have super cans of WD-40.

And I'm not going to stress myself over him dying, trust me - I HAVE A PLAN.

Allowing the droid to handle the rest, I walk back behind the barrier, attaching Watto's pouch to my waist, before leaning down, and picking up the dropped data tapes and papers as I stuffed them into my pockets, rolling up some of the documents, and shifting around in my pants and tunic as I try and make room for my collection.

Picking up the Camtono safe as I stood up, I began walking out the yard, but as I looked to my left, I saw the same sleever bar I had left in the office: now pierced into a hill of scrap how the legendary sword Excalibur was stuck into the stone. And ever so lightly touching the bar, I made sure that it was cooled, before grabbing onto it, barely tugging it, and pulling it out of the scrap stack: continuing on my way towards the shop, with it, and my loot in hand. Stepping around the pools of blood, and over the dismembered corpses as I entered back into the hall of scrap, I began to walk through its winding ways, through its lefts, and its rights, before ending up on the path which brought me infront of the archway. And - while I would normally enjoy the occasion of having escaped this whole ordeal, I'm afraid I won't have the time, as my mother was infront of the archway, on full damage control as she was deflecting a mob outside - keeping them from bursting inside the yard for answers.

Sliding back behind the corner, I check my hands, boots, pants, and tunic for any blood stains, before entering around the corner, walking down the scrap hall, and out of the archway yelling: "What the hell is going on here!" Turning to me, the crowd responds with different curious questions, "What caused that explosion!" "A piece of metal almost hit my wife!" - "Was that a blaster!?"

Answering their questions, I give them a 'simple' generalized statement: "A-uh, engine we were trying to repair exploded - injuring two of our employees, and causing damage to our protection droids blaster system, that's the blaster shots you heard previously... but-uh, was there anybody around who was injured?" Looking around, the crowd responds with "No's" and "I don't think so's" which I responded with, "Then here! -" reaching into my pouch, I toss every piece of coin and gold from it into the street, "Drinks on me ladies and gentlemen!" the crowd cheers, picking up every wupiupi, trugut, and peggat straight off the street, rushing, and grabbing all they can so they could add to their drinking tab.

Receiving a sudden pull on my right arm, Shmi drags me into the shop, all the way into the very back, before shifting me in front of her, "Tyr, what happened!"

"Everything - but I handled it, so it's good now. I think?"

Shmi, forcing my eyes to look at her by keeping my head from wandering side to side, questioned me again, "What do you mean YOU THINK? Where is Watto? And the others?"

Looking her in the eyes, I remained silent, "... Tirion - What happened?"

Until I didn't, "Consequences."

"What do you mean?" Shmi took a step back.

"Their souls are no longer of this earthly plane - POOF~ Gone." Waving my hands as if I caused them to magically disappear, and Shmi, almost hesitantly, leans in, whispering, "You killed them?" acting as if we aren't alone in the out-of-bounds area at the very back of the shop.

"Me? No..." Nodding my head up and down contrary to my words, tears soon fell from Shmi's eyes, hugging me as she walked towards me, "I'm sorry..."

Patting her on her back before breaking away from the hug, I simply tell her, "It's nothin' but a thang..." smiling at the remark, Shmi places her hand upon my face, but lets go as she begins to quickly collect her necessities, "We need to go to a special clinic to get this transmitter out, it's not very far from here, but it's still little ways..." but before she was able to properly start, I remember that a chip was never placed into my own head, and needing the answer, I ask why: "Curious... why wasn't I chipped?

Shmi suddenly freezes in her place, turning around she gives me an irritatingly pitiful look, before slowly explaining to me why: "... You were - going to be..." hesitating - she takes a deep breath before beginning again, with me nodding her on in impatience, "... He was going to sell you back to Gardulla. After she lost you in the bet, she-uh - she just kept increasing the offer, and it reached a point where he began to crack, rather having a couple thousand peggats, and two upgraded republic Astromech droids."

If back there didn't make me strangle him, this deal would of. But, still curious about the bet, I began to have vague idea on why Gardulla insisted on purchasing me back, so I asked again: "She seemed insistent on purchasing me back." Shmi nods her head up and down in affirmation, "Why?" Before freezing once more, standing silent as she prepares to answer my question, "... I-uh, found - a message... when-uhm, when Watto passed out one night, from Gardulla detailing the trade of it was that she was going to turn you... into a-uhm... into a Dancer." Shmi sighs, before starting again: "You were going to be sold at what she called: 'the ripe time.' But the reason she wants you is... because - well..." looking up and down at my physical appearance,"... I'm sure you already know."

Taking in the information given to me, I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose, feeling my IQ dropping, with Shmi having seemingly read me wrong. "I-I know being forced to become a... Dancer, like that... it's a terrible shared fate that nobody wants, you know we clean, we sell, but... Dancers... they are subjected to the most horrible perversions. So it's normal for it to be hard to take in - because it's devastating... for anyone."

'WHAT? TAKE IN!? I DON'T TAKE IN! MOTHAFUCKAS TAKE IN ME! AND STOP PAUSING EVERYTIME YOU'RE ABOUT TO SAY DANCER! I WASN'T GOING TO BECOME A DANCER DAMNIT! SHE WAS GONNA STREAK ME AROUND LIKE A TROPHY! RIPE TIME! NAH! MORE LIKE RAPE TIME! SHIEET!'

"It's fine. That fate is past me, because now we have the opportunity to change yours." Tapping the back of my neck, Shmi smiles, gently rubbing my right shoulder - before returning to take today's profits out of the register, while I took my own initiative by walking out to the front to pick up a toolbox, emptying out its tools - and trays of tools, before stashing the Camtono, and every data tape and file I had stuffed inside of my pockets, inside the toolbox, before quickly closing it back.

Satisfied with everything we have, we were preparing to leave, when we heard the sound of a wall breaking in the very back of the shop: placing the toolbox down, and running to the edge of the archway that opened up the back room, I place the barrels of my revolver onto the edge of the arch, preparing to start blind firing from around the corner, before hearing the startup of the incinerator, and the hum of a beeping tone. Walking around the corner, the droid looks to me while tossing the Uurgrins head in, "Did you have to bust through the wall?" The droid then raised 'his' thumb, stating "... WITNESSES..." before throwing another of the Uurgrins limbs in.

"O-Oh... as you were then... soldier." Receiving another thumbs up as I was walking out the room, I left the droid to its devices, only lowering its thumb after stating, "... WITNESSES..." as I was already out of the room, leaving out the exit with toolbox and sleever bar in hand, with Shmi questioning me as to why the incinerator was turned on.

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Crossing out into the hot 120°F (48.9°C) Mos Epsan streets, Shmi then grabs hold of my arm, guiding me as we walk through sandy pourstone lined alleyways, making multiple right and left turns, before cutting through the industrial strip, and ending up infront of a medical clinic 'owned' by BioTech industries. Observing the exterior of the clinic, it looked as if it were newly built, with no sand damage to the building, the pourstone looking freshly laid, with what seemed to be wood made to look like wortwood, acting as the supports and frames of the building, "I trust you know the doctor inside?"

Shmi looks to me while rummaging inside her bag, "You don't remember him? He was your doctor when you had Bantha Fever..." "Hm?" With one eyebrow raised toward her, Shmi takes out a white and red piece of chalk, before drawing two white suns on her left hand, and marking them with two red X's. Putting back the chalk, Shmi stands in front of the entrance of the clinic, placing her hand palm out in front of her chest, and knocking on the wood framed glass door.

Looking up from her computer, the old Ithorian clerk adjusts her glasses, looking towards the entrance, "Ahh, Shmi!" The Ithorian welcomes through the intercom, the translation collar converting her Stereophonic Ithorese into Galactic Basic, "What are you doing out-" looking to the drawing on Shmi's hand, the Ithorian jumps out of her chair, unlocking the doors from her computer, before fast walking to the back, her arms swaying front and back with her steady pace, "DOCTOR KRAMER! DOCTOR KRAMER!"

Stepping inside of the clinic, the instant waft of several disinfectants, and cleaning chemicals invade my senses, burning my nostrils as I was observing the matching décor.

The whole entire clinic kept its theme, with the wood acting as the table tops, beams, doors, cabinets, railings, hardwood floor, etc. while the pourstone acted as the base, and foundation for it all, mixing together the tan, brown, and dark brown colors for a rather fitting Mid-Century aesthetic.

Walking onto the pourstone, with the lounging areas to my left and right having a hard wood floor as you step down from the stair, I scanned the room, inspecting the art pieces hung around the walls; the small sculptures placed on the shelves like they were figurines; and the books placed in alphabetical and numeric order. But out of everything, my eyes were immediately drawn to the most important feature of any doctors office: that being the triangular aquarium. Placed on top of a triangular mid-century modern with veneer legs, the aquarium houses a Fantailed Laa, two Flitterpods, and a Bluefish. And while I did get a desert pub feel, with the mid-century pourstone combination, the clinic kept its original sci-fi mix, blending with its original technological star wars aesthetic.

With a hobbled shuffle in the back, I heard the doctor come around the corner of the archway, his cane hitting the sides of the chairs, and desks, "Ahh yes - all ze simple children seem to love the aquarium..."

'This mothafucka...' Turning my head towards the old German sounding human doctor, the shining light of his bald head blinded my eye, almost having to blink as he stepped out of the corner of the front archway.

Wearing rounded glass, and hobbling in sandals with a lean that gives him a certain elderly swagger, Kramer takes Shmi's hand, and flips it to where he could see her palm. Walking away, he strolls towards a bookshelf in the back, tipping several figurines, which then engaged a mechanism, causing the blast doors on the windows, and front entrance to close, "Where are their bodies?"

Shmi then looks to me, which caused ze 'German' doctor to turn his head in my direction, "Why are you looking at him?"

Looking back to Shmi, she remained silent as the Doctor gave her a questioning look, insisting on him asking me through the look of her eyes, and the nod of her head, "This is ridiculous..." groaning as he turned back to me, he asked "Boy, where are the bodies?"

"Is he good?" Looking to Shmi for her confirmation, Kramer cuts in, "I am good enough to lead an Anti-Slavery coalition for thirty-five years, in four different systems. Now where are the bodies!"

"Right now? Watto's taped up, and his boiz decapitated parts are incinerating to ash. Is there anything else that I need to take care of?" Leaning on the wall as I gave him his answer, the Doctor almost needed his own wall to lean on, taken aback by the bluntness of my words, "You don't coat your words at all do you?"

Shaking my head, but still looking at me, Shmi grabs the herr doktor's arm, which broke him out of his daze, and his eyes away from me, "Henry... I need to talk to you about something..."

Nodding his head, Shmi begins to walk towards the back of the clinic, with Kramer following suit as he took one more glance towards me, "... As do I..."

Sitting down in one of the cognac tan lounge chairs, my back to the wall, with the entirety of the shop open to my view, I relax, and lose myself in my thoughts, holding my sleever bar as I could feel an attached echo within, preparing to delve into the space of my mental, before the voices in my head said otherwise, [You feel it don't you? Do you see it?]

'Oho yeah, it's almost like television.'

[It'll have to be hid.]

'Whaat? I'm about to turn this into a whole mini-series, before evolving it into a ten season, thirty minutes to one hour long fuckfest.'

[Hey... it's on you.]

'Yeah... I know - what's the date?'

[17th of March 33BBY, or ATC - depends on how you feel... meaning you are placed thirteen galactic standard months before the attack of Naboo. Leaving you just enough time, Isn't that great?]

Sinking further down into the chair, and resting my head in its corner: I hold the sleever bar like a scepter, leaving the unfolding scenes of the echo to focus on constructing my plans, in mind to the dates of the events beginning their own unraveling before me. "Mmm, It's Fuckin' Sublime..."

[CHAPTER END]

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