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Lobby - Galo Towers
<Coronet: Corellia>
The main lobby for the Galo Towers is situated on the first floor from
which the ten towers, all white edifices of varying heights bunched
together, may be accessed. The room is spacious with maroon carpeting
covering white marble floors, seperated by a small solarium and two
fountains. The front desk stretches along the south wall where a
number of protocol droids are prepared to assist visitors and
residents alike. The towers are also guarded by a small CorSec office
at the north wall. Most of the first floor is dominated by three high
class restaurants and a popular nightclub, while on the far wall a row
of lifts are prepared to take people to any of the towers.
Through the automated doors of the Galo Towers lobby enters a tall,
spindly droid with a body and arms of gunmetal gray. The cylindrical
head glows with red sensors. The arms are affixed with a rather grim
array of deadly weaponry. The robot stops once it walks in about five
feet from the doors, scans the protocol droids standing at the front
desk, and then quietly regards others in the lobby.
Facing the Apartment Console and typing slowly on it, Florez, lifts
his black sunglasses over his cap and reviews information on the
console infront of him. A slight 'Hm' can be heard, while small
apartment owners shuffle in and out of the area.
POTENTIAL RESOURCE IDENTIFIED. The assassin droid fixes its attention
on Florez, servos whirring and metallic feet clunking as IG-88 closes
on the man at the console.
Not noticing the droid approach him, Florez simply continues to
examine the console infront of him. A moment later he hears the droid
servos, and the man turns around. He wonders, ~ Hm, this might be one
of those new droids the impies are throwing out.~ The man the says,
"May I help you?" Florez's voice is low, and harsh from his
battlehardness.
COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from
a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Report. Respond.
Identify." From a holoemitter comes the following image: About average
height for a human, and of a pale complexion, this creature is still
not quite human. Identified by his lekku as a Twi'lek, this male has a
slightly green skintone. Alert eyes are in his face, sunken only
slightly into his spare flesh. They are rarely still, the creature's
entire attitude one of relaxed if constant observance. Smooth skin
covers his features, unblemished by scars, burns, or pocks. There are
no deformities on his body, though his face holds one deviation from
the otherwise flawless norm: His right eye is red and his left is a
mechanical green, glowing slightly. Even more unnerving, perhaps, is
the lack of eyelids on this eye; it cannot be closed. The clothing he
wears is rather anachronistic. Similar in cut to the clothing once
worn by members of the Jedi Order, it is made up entirely of browns of
various shades. A light brown inner tunic is covered with a
lightweight, off-white outer tunic, with loose sleeves. Tabards fall
down his thighs in the front and back, a slightly darker brown than
the inner tunic. A light-colored sash is wrapped about his torso,
holding this all together. As well, a utility belt covers this. The
only difference between his clothing and the clothing of most members
of the Jedi Order is that they are closer to his form, less relaxed.
"I'm sorry, I do not know of this Twi'lek." says Florez honestly. The
man then shrugs slightly and says, "I do not know of anyone like
this." The Man then awaits a response from the unknown droid.
COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from
a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Acknowledged.
Extermination postponed." The assassin droid then turns and stalks
away, servos whirring as it seeks out someone else to question.
Unintimidated by the droid's choice of words, Florez simply grunts and
turns back around allowing the droid to exit the area, his current
course. Florez simply continues where he left off, befroe he was
approached.
Main Lobby - CorSec Headquarters
<Coronet: Corellia>
An expansive lobby, the entrance to CorSec Headquarters appears more
that of a corporation than military center. Marble floors and a high,
arched ceiling give the hall an echoed, cavernous feel, while along
the walls statues of past CorSec members are displayed representing
its long history. A central desk serves as the hub of communications
for those entering the head quarters where an array of protocol droids
stand ready to assist.
The lobby is at all times busy with never ending work of the planet's
security force. Officers and other officials are seen in force, while
civilians mingle for their own reasons. Along one of the walls is a
line of lifts to the other floors, while in the rear large,
glass-paned doors lead to CorSec's other facilities.
CorSec headquarters is quiet, but for the occasional officer dragging
a common-looking thug in for lockdown. A single officer stands near an
open door leading to a long, stone-lined hallway, munching on some
sort of pastry that drips onto his hands. Occasionally, controlled
bursts of blasterfire can be heard from that door, muffled by their
distance.
In a padded room, deeper into the complex, Yarak and Xavia are
undergoing a blaster pistol safety course. The Fallen has a rubber
pistol pointed at Yarak, and they're making banter back and forth,
with a CorSec officer watching nearby.
Through the automated doors of the CorSec Headquarters lobby enters a
tall, spindly droid with a body and arms of gunmetal gray. The
cylindrical head glows with red sensors. The arms are affixed with a
rather grim array of deadly weaponry. The robot stops once it walks in
about five feet from the doors. It fixes its attention on the guard
standing near the open door. POTENTIAL RESOURCE IDENTIFIED. Servos
whir and metal feet thud as IG-88 approaches the man.
And Yarak seems to be making an honest attempt to disarm Xavia,
although, it becomes highly appearant that he doesn't know what he is
doing in this instance. He attempts to twist the weapon from the
Falleen's hands. "Let go, will ya?"
Trying to jerk free and step back Xavia attempts to get room to use
the 'weapon' on her friend.
"Oh, come on," the officer with Yarak and Xavia says, stepping in to
pull them apart, "Shoo, shoo. Look. Try again... ... actually *try*
this time, hm?" He directs this latter bit at Yarak in particular.
Meanwhile, in the lobby...
"Grk," is the sound the officer in front of IG-88 makes as he all but
chokes on his pastry. "Cam I hep yoo?" he asks quickly, nerveously
forgetting to swallow his food before speaking.
Backing off a step Xavia brings the blue rubber pistol to bare on
Yarak. "Ok you overgrown piece of belly button lint!" she says in a
deep tone turning a bright red in color as she stands there. "The
credits or your life. I tire of the game." She says with no emotion in
her voice.
The Bothan watches the movements, then nods. "Alright." No banter this
time, he steps forward and reaches up for the gun, in hopes that he
can mimic the manuver that was shown earlier and twist the weapon from
Xavia's hands.
COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from
a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Report. Respond.
Identify." From a holoemitter comes the following image: About average
height for a human, and of a pale complexion, this creature is still
not quite human. Identified by his lekku as a Twi'lek, this male has a
slightly green skintone. Alert eyes are in his face, sunken only
slightly into his spare flesh. They are rarely still, the creature's
entire attitude one of relaxed if constant observance. Smooth skin
covers his features, unblemished by scars, burns, or pocks. There are
no deformities on his body, though his face holds one deviation from
the otherwise flawless norm: His right eye is red and his left is a
mechanical green, glowing slightly. Even more unnerving, perhaps, is
the lack of eyelids on this eye; it cannot be closed. The clothing he
wears is rather anachronistic. Similar in cut to the clothing once
worn by members of the Jedi Order, it is made up entirely of browns of
various shades. A light brown inner tunic is covered with a
lightweight, off-white outer tunic, with loose sleeves. Tabards fall
down his thighs in the front and back, a slightly darker brown than
the inner tunic. A light-colored sash is wrapped about his torso,
holding this all together. As well, a utility belt covers this. The
only difference between his clothing and the clothing of most members
of the Jedi Order is that they are closer to his form, less relaxed.
Seeing as things are more properly exicuted this time Xavia has less
chance to react and is disarmed in a proper manner. She smiles a
little. "Much better Yarak. Much smoother."
A CorSec officer stands near an open door that leads into a long,
stone tunnel. He's watching the hologram of a twi'lek emitted by a
droid standing in front of him - IG-88. The officer stares at IG-88,
watching the hologram flicker and glow as he chews and swallows,
ridding his mouth of the last of his pastry. "Uh... It's a Jedi? I
think I saw a picture of that guy when they say he killed Lord Vader.
Good riddance to Ryloth; too much spice coming from there, anyway.
Made our jobs easier for a little while. If you wanna know about Jedi,
um... well, a Bounty Hunter caught one here in coronet a while back.
We had a little party."
Deeper into the complex, Xavia and Yarak are practicing weapons
safety.
COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from
a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Query. Bounty hunter.
Report. Respond. Identify."
"Uh... Boba Fett," the officer responds nervously, nodding once to
IG-88. "I think so. At least, he looked like Boba Fett, with all that
armour he wears. Man, Boba Fett is such a hero. That Jedi would've
probably wrecked our town if Boba Fett hadn't come and proved why he's
known as the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. ... Sure wish I had
armor like that..."
COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from
a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Confirmation. Boba Fett.
Bounty hunter. Acknowledged. Extermination postponed." Its business
apparently complete, IG-88 turns and stalks away. Servos whir. Steel
feet thump. The assassin droid makes its way toward the doors leading
out.
Yarak blinks as he ends up with the gun, "Oy, that worked..." He looks
back at Xavia, "but will it work out on others. I mean, you are
talking to the one that got stabbed..." He shakes his head.
Now that Yarak has gained the weapon Xavia turns to face the
instructor. "What do you wish of us now sir?" She asks her voice even
and friendly. "Have we performed adequitly?" Xavia waits patiently for
a responce.
"Extermination postponed?" the CorSec man asks another officer a few
meters away, who shrugs and shakes his head. "Uh... Good luck," the
officer says to IG-88's backside before glancing to his pastry and
then quietly moving to throw it away, appetite apparently gone
missing.
The officer in Yarak and Xavia's training area nods to the pair of
aliens, and says, "Yeah, I suppose you guys can get those permits now.
And remember: these are only good in CorSec jurisdiction. The Empire
probably won't recognize them. You'd be better off skinning yourself a
J'Rathi if you want that." He points toward the exit, and says, "You
know the way to the lobby. They'll get you set up in there."
Yarak Tar'lya nods slightly to the officer. "Indeed. All Corsec
worlds, nowhere else. Carry, but not concealed. Many thanks." He turns
to Xavia and bows slightly, still holding the fake blue gun, "After
you Lady Xavia." He looks at the rubber toy in his hand, "Here you go
sir. Thanks for your time." |
