12-03-2017, 08:42 AM
Since the incident at Jagiellonian Pharmaceuticals, the cybernetic warrior had kept a relatively low profile. Of all the teams sent out, his had been the only one to experience any ‘action,’ with the others relegated to simple shakedowns and a handful of arrests. The operation had gone off without a hitch on all fronts, but the obliteration of a Tier 2 office building had raised a lot of alarms.
Coruscant officials had done their part to disseminate the information, but the death of Private Stone had cast a dark pale over the aftermath. Despite the fact that the office had been manufacturing and selling drugs, elements still wanted to cast the whole thing as part of the Empire ‘flexing its muscle.’ For the first time since he’d been unwillingly conscripted into this operation, Seventeen found himself siding with the people in charge. Even so, they’d relegated him to the Venator for a couple weeks after the incident. Trixie had used the time to coordinate a few more field ops, which had unearthed a few more places where cons were producing Slo-Mo.
Even with the downtime, the machine-hybrid hadn’t anticipated being summoned to one of the field offices in downtown Tier 2. The woman at the front desk had been kind enough, but they had sent him to a small room and left him there for nearly an hour without any input or logic. After the first twenty minutes, he figured this was some sort of psychological trickery, and he filled his time playing a match-three game on his cellphone. Even so, he was a bit startled when a harsh series of knocks struck the door. A duo of troopers entered a beat later, and without so much as a howdy doody, they gestured with their helmeted skulls for him to follow them.
Feigning a look of indifference, Seventeen allowed the pair of stormtroopers to lead him out into the hallway. Free from the noise, he was able to clear his thoughts a little. “So, you gentlemen are taking me where?”
The only response that the cyborg received was the rhythmic thump of the soldiers’ boots on the metal floors.
Lovely. The machine-hybrid eyed his surroundings and plotted out a handful of responses in the event that this little tryst went south. He wasn’t as strong as he had once been, but that didn’t mean he would fold like a house of cards if confronted with some impossibly odds. Since being jumped by Cell a few months back, he had been able to orb at will, and while the range was nowhere near as extensive as before, it was more than enough to service his needs.
Before it came to that point, Seventeen was led into an elevator. One of the troopers tapped an id card against a pad on the controls, and a beat later, his partner inserted a key into the other panel and gave it a gentle twist. Once the lift was on its way to its destination, the stormtroopers stepped back and one of them glanced at the raven-haired warrior.
“You have a meeting scheduled.” He spoke in such a bland, matter-of-fact tone that it almost convinced Seventeen that he had set something up for today.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember setting anything up in my agenda,” Seventeen replied dryly.
The stormtrooper nodded its helmeted head. “Correct. This meeting was arranged for you.”
Lovely.
Seventeen shuffled as the elevator continued to ascend to their destination. “Can you lemme know who or what I am meeting with?”
“Negative.” At that, the elevator let out a jovial ding and came to a stop. The doors slid open, and both stormtroopers pointed into the ill-light chamber that lay before them. “You exit here. You will be attended to shortly.”
“Thanks,” Seventeen muttered as he stepped out from the lift and ran a hand down the front of his clothes. Behind him, the doors shut and the elevator descended back into a building beneath them. A quick glance over his shoulder showed a wall with no indication that it opened up into an elevator shaft. Given other circumstances, the cybernetic warrior would have snickered and thought of his home. Instead, he felt a slight knot in his stomach as he glanced around the poorly lit ‘waiting’ room. On the cream-colored walls were portraits of scowling men in giant suits of armor. They were fighting space monsters and aliens and ripping their guts apart.
All very manly stuff.
If not for the hum of the fluorescent lights, it would have been silent. Seventeen wondered if there was some hidden psychology behind the design of this room.
On the other side of the room, a previously dormant light flashed to life—bathing the room in a yellow glow as the door beneath the caged bulb slid open. Behind that doorway, Seventeen could spot what seemed to be a conference room.
“I’m waiting,” a gruff voice barked from inside the room, prompting the cyborg to jog forward out of the unnerving waiting room.
When he entered what was certainly a conference room, the doorway slipped shut behind Seventeen. He paid it a passing glance before he shifted his focus to the figure at the far end of the room. While there were plenty of chairs laid out around the central table, the individual was standing at the window and glancing out at the skyline of Tier 2. When he heard the click of the automated door, he turned his head toward the cybernetic warrior.
“Everyone they send to me is skinny.” He spoke, his voice barely a few octaves above a growl. “All those armored marines, and I get a bunch of…” he lifted one of his oversized hands and gestured in Seventeen’s direction. “Skin and bones.”
Oh, that’s how you gonna play it?
Seventeen smiled. “And what are you supposed to be?” He replied with a cock of his eyebrow.
The entity that stood by the window was certainly bizarre. His body had the same shape as a candy gumdrop, and his oversized feet and legs were tethered to him by very skinny arms that somehow didn’t snap apart from the weight. Despite that, his head seemed mostly human, with a long white beard, a pair of angry white eyebrows, and a golden crown. A red cloak hung from its back and almost touched the floor. As Seventeen stepped closer, it became clearer to him that the gruff entity’s skin was reflecting a bit of the ambient light.
He’s made of metal or something… Huh.
“I am Smithy,” the figure replied as he turned to face the cyborg, revealing a chest adorned with an ornamental star decoration. He strode forward, his gait amusingly like that of a penguin.
For his part, Seventeen suppressed what would have been his normal response—a full-body snicker. Instead, he watched silently as Smithy stopped at the other end of the table. From this distance, it was clear that the ‘man’ (if such a word was even applicable) was certifiably made of steel. Even his eyebrows and beard were metal.
Must. Suppress. Heavy metal joke.
“Do you intend to stare?” Smithy barked as he leaned forward and lifted his hands up onto the conference table.
“I’m Seventeen.”
“I know. I read your folder.”
The cyborg scowled at the thought of the Empire keeping notes on him. Hell, they probably had every square inch of the Venator outfitted with surveillance bugs. “Anything good in there?”
Smithy shrugged—an amusing gesture given he lacked actual shoulders. “Pedestrian, for the most part.” The man of steel saw his guest’s expression contort, and try as hard as he could, a smirk spread across his metal features. “The only thing that was worthwhile to me was the reports from when you first came here. You were detained by the authorities at the Gate, weren’t you?”
You know what? Fuck this gestapo crap.
“You already know that.” Seventeen rebutted. “Is there something else I can help you with… Sir?”
“Not an officer,” Smithy sneered. “Consultant is a better word.”
Seventeen walked forward, pulled out a chair, and slipped down into it. “And what do you consult, Mr. Smithy?”
The metallic man started down the side of the table. The machine-hybrid spun to face him and crossed his legs. Smithy got close enough that Seventeen could see his new friend’s metal chompers. “We don’t need to spend all afternoon sassing each other. Did you or did you not discover an artefact in the Ashen Steppes?”
“Of course, I most certainly did,” the cyborg replied without skipping a beat. “Which is why they… detained me at the Gate.”
Smithy smiled. “Do you have it with you? The Star Piece?”
Fascinating. Now it was the machine-hybrid’s time to smirk. “Nah, I got it locked up, which I’m sure means nothing here in Coruscant.”
“Correct,” the metal man replied as he glanced out the window in the direction of the Venator. “There are seven of them in total. Seven Star Pieces.”
Seventeen gave a quick nod as he swiveled the office chair to partake in the staring of downtown Tier 2. “And they do…”
“Heh,” Smithy glanced briefly at the skinny fighter before turning away. “Unknown. In my world, they could grant wishes.”
Are you fucking … The cybernetic warrior didn’t roll his eyes for fear they would come spiraling from his skull. “Do they summon a dragon?”
Smithy turned and tilted his giant, metal cranium to the side. “No but there were talking puppets involved last time.”
Fucking Omniverse…
“I don’t believe these are the same exact items as they were in my world,” the man of metal spoke as he glanced up at the synthetic skyline. There was a roof up there—the floor of Tier 1—but technology had made it look like a beautiful, cloud-filled sky. “Even if they are not duplicates, there’s no denying that they contain great power. What that power will do in this… place, I do not know.”
Seventeen smirked. “But you wanna find out?”
Smithy glanced over his shoulder and smiled his metal smirk. “Reports are coming in more frequently about similar artefacts appearing with primes.” Turning one of his massive palms toward the sky, the walking metal man continued to grin as a little holographic image appeared. It was a dour-looking little girl with a simple dress and pink hair. The machine-hybrid recognized the individual as a fanfiction author whose writing made him feel uncomfortable. After a moment, another hologram appeared—a woman with glasses, dark hair, and animal ears. Then there was a red-skinned robot with a super serious look on his face. “These are confirmed through intelligence from field agents.”
“Doesn’t that one rule her own personal little fiefdom in the forest verse?” The cyborg remarked.
“The Tangled Green, and yes, you are correct. If it’s any consolation, we know that another Star Piece is in the hands of the Camelot Astronomers’ Guild. Any guesses to where they are headquartered?”
“The middle of nowhere?” Seventeen replied with a smile, knowing that he didn’t have a snowballs chance in hell of being correct.
“Dalaran. The wizard’s capital of the Omniverse.”
“Whelp, that sounds like a fun task you got there,” the machine-hybrid spoke with a laugh.
“Fun task that we have,” Smithy shot back with a serpentine grin.
Seventeen scowled. “This is one of those instances where someone pokes a gun against my back and has me execute minorities, isn’t it?”
The machine-man rolled his metal eyes and let his hand swing back down to his nonexistent waistline. “I do not work for the Empire, at least not in any official capacity. That doesn’t mean I lack the necessary ‘pull’ to clear you for any variety of fieldwork. And I don’t mean ‘fieldwork’ in the Imperial sense, where they’ll assign you to some pissant post.”
“I’d hope so,” Seventeen replied. “You gonna gift me seventy-two virgins when I get merc’d going after any of these people? Isn’t that red-faced dude the leader of a good guy hit squad?”
“The Avengers,” Smithy answered. Something in the metal creature’s tone made the cyborg believe that such information was freely available to the public. That was probably accurate, but the last time Seventeen had sat down to pursue the not-internet had been a few weeks ago. Or was it months? Days? Had a few weeks passed while he was talking to the angry-faced metal Santa Claus? Before the haze could settle over the cybernetic warrior’s mind, he heard the harsh sound of a metal throat being cleared. “Are you still concussed?”
The head shake was immediate. “Just a lot of stuff in the head,” Seventeen answered as he reached up and tapped a finger to the side of his head. “Hard to keep track of all the crap in this world.”
Smithy sneered. “You have a machine wired into your skull.”
A valid point. In response, the pale cyborg shrugged his shoulders. “I stopped relying on that stuff back before I died. Whole ‘machine versus man’ thing usually wound up with the former winning and the latter burning down orphanages and decapitating orphans.”
“Colorful,” the metal creature answered as he started toward the far side of the room. “It is important that we acquire the Star Pieces. They need to stay out of the hands of the Kingdom, Ambrosia, the Avengers, or any of the other factions that may vie for them. That power needs to be ours.” Smithy clenched his giant, gauntleted fist and left the cybernetic warrior wondering whether the machine meant the Empire, the two of them, or some collection of Smithy alter-egos.”
“Because…?”
The metal construct rolled his eyes. “Because power, Seventeen. I don’t care what morality you have, but when it comes to power, do you want it or would you rather let someone else take it from you?”
Silence.
Smithy smiled, understanding that the quiet in this moment meant he had made the valid point.
“Take care of business. I know that you have Imperial work, but I’ll get you the clearances. If you have an opportunity to acquire an additional Star Piece, you must take it. Safeguard the one you own, wherever it may be. Others will come sooner or later.”
“What will you be doing?”
“I’ll do my best to keep you updated. I have an additional field agent as well.”
Competition or cooperation?
Seventeen kept the question to himself and gave a slow nod. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could form, Smithy had already stepped up to the far wall and placed a giant hand against a wall sconce. With a fluid motion, the bearded metal giant vanished as the section of wall swiveled to reveal a carbon copy. For a few moments, the cyborg simply stared at the wall, unable to determine if he should feel dumbfounded or confounded. In the end, he shook his head. “You could have at least said goodbye. That’s just proper manners.”
The air around the cyborg started to glitter, and before he knew it, he was standing back in the lobby of the building.
Coruscant officials had done their part to disseminate the information, but the death of Private Stone had cast a dark pale over the aftermath. Despite the fact that the office had been manufacturing and selling drugs, elements still wanted to cast the whole thing as part of the Empire ‘flexing its muscle.’ For the first time since he’d been unwillingly conscripted into this operation, Seventeen found himself siding with the people in charge. Even so, they’d relegated him to the Venator for a couple weeks after the incident. Trixie had used the time to coordinate a few more field ops, which had unearthed a few more places where cons were producing Slo-Mo.
Even with the downtime, the machine-hybrid hadn’t anticipated being summoned to one of the field offices in downtown Tier 2. The woman at the front desk had been kind enough, but they had sent him to a small room and left him there for nearly an hour without any input or logic. After the first twenty minutes, he figured this was some sort of psychological trickery, and he filled his time playing a match-three game on his cellphone. Even so, he was a bit startled when a harsh series of knocks struck the door. A duo of troopers entered a beat later, and without so much as a howdy doody, they gestured with their helmeted skulls for him to follow them.
Feigning a look of indifference, Seventeen allowed the pair of stormtroopers to lead him out into the hallway. Free from the noise, he was able to clear his thoughts a little. “So, you gentlemen are taking me where?”
The only response that the cyborg received was the rhythmic thump of the soldiers’ boots on the metal floors.
Lovely. The machine-hybrid eyed his surroundings and plotted out a handful of responses in the event that this little tryst went south. He wasn’t as strong as he had once been, but that didn’t mean he would fold like a house of cards if confronted with some impossibly odds. Since being jumped by Cell a few months back, he had been able to orb at will, and while the range was nowhere near as extensive as before, it was more than enough to service his needs.
Before it came to that point, Seventeen was led into an elevator. One of the troopers tapped an id card against a pad on the controls, and a beat later, his partner inserted a key into the other panel and gave it a gentle twist. Once the lift was on its way to its destination, the stormtroopers stepped back and one of them glanced at the raven-haired warrior.
“You have a meeting scheduled.” He spoke in such a bland, matter-of-fact tone that it almost convinced Seventeen that he had set something up for today.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember setting anything up in my agenda,” Seventeen replied dryly.
The stormtrooper nodded its helmeted head. “Correct. This meeting was arranged for you.”
Lovely.
Seventeen shuffled as the elevator continued to ascend to their destination. “Can you lemme know who or what I am meeting with?”
“Negative.” At that, the elevator let out a jovial ding and came to a stop. The doors slid open, and both stormtroopers pointed into the ill-light chamber that lay before them. “You exit here. You will be attended to shortly.”
“Thanks,” Seventeen muttered as he stepped out from the lift and ran a hand down the front of his clothes. Behind him, the doors shut and the elevator descended back into a building beneath them. A quick glance over his shoulder showed a wall with no indication that it opened up into an elevator shaft. Given other circumstances, the cybernetic warrior would have snickered and thought of his home. Instead, he felt a slight knot in his stomach as he glanced around the poorly lit ‘waiting’ room. On the cream-colored walls were portraits of scowling men in giant suits of armor. They were fighting space monsters and aliens and ripping their guts apart.
All very manly stuff.
If not for the hum of the fluorescent lights, it would have been silent. Seventeen wondered if there was some hidden psychology behind the design of this room.
On the other side of the room, a previously dormant light flashed to life—bathing the room in a yellow glow as the door beneath the caged bulb slid open. Behind that doorway, Seventeen could spot what seemed to be a conference room.
“I’m waiting,” a gruff voice barked from inside the room, prompting the cyborg to jog forward out of the unnerving waiting room.
When he entered what was certainly a conference room, the doorway slipped shut behind Seventeen. He paid it a passing glance before he shifted his focus to the figure at the far end of the room. While there were plenty of chairs laid out around the central table, the individual was standing at the window and glancing out at the skyline of Tier 2. When he heard the click of the automated door, he turned his head toward the cybernetic warrior.
“Everyone they send to me is skinny.” He spoke, his voice barely a few octaves above a growl. “All those armored marines, and I get a bunch of…” he lifted one of his oversized hands and gestured in Seventeen’s direction. “Skin and bones.”
Oh, that’s how you gonna play it?
Seventeen smiled. “And what are you supposed to be?” He replied with a cock of his eyebrow.
The entity that stood by the window was certainly bizarre. His body had the same shape as a candy gumdrop, and his oversized feet and legs were tethered to him by very skinny arms that somehow didn’t snap apart from the weight. Despite that, his head seemed mostly human, with a long white beard, a pair of angry white eyebrows, and a golden crown. A red cloak hung from its back and almost touched the floor. As Seventeen stepped closer, it became clearer to him that the gruff entity’s skin was reflecting a bit of the ambient light.
He’s made of metal or something… Huh.
“I am Smithy,” the figure replied as he turned to face the cyborg, revealing a chest adorned with an ornamental star decoration. He strode forward, his gait amusingly like that of a penguin.
For his part, Seventeen suppressed what would have been his normal response—a full-body snicker. Instead, he watched silently as Smithy stopped at the other end of the table. From this distance, it was clear that the ‘man’ (if such a word was even applicable) was certifiably made of steel. Even his eyebrows and beard were metal.
Must. Suppress. Heavy metal joke.
“Do you intend to stare?” Smithy barked as he leaned forward and lifted his hands up onto the conference table.
“I’m Seventeen.”
“I know. I read your folder.”
The cyborg scowled at the thought of the Empire keeping notes on him. Hell, they probably had every square inch of the Venator outfitted with surveillance bugs. “Anything good in there?”
Smithy shrugged—an amusing gesture given he lacked actual shoulders. “Pedestrian, for the most part.” The man of steel saw his guest’s expression contort, and try as hard as he could, a smirk spread across his metal features. “The only thing that was worthwhile to me was the reports from when you first came here. You were detained by the authorities at the Gate, weren’t you?”
You know what? Fuck this gestapo crap.
“You already know that.” Seventeen rebutted. “Is there something else I can help you with… Sir?”
“Not an officer,” Smithy sneered. “Consultant is a better word.”
Seventeen walked forward, pulled out a chair, and slipped down into it. “And what do you consult, Mr. Smithy?”
The metallic man started down the side of the table. The machine-hybrid spun to face him and crossed his legs. Smithy got close enough that Seventeen could see his new friend’s metal chompers. “We don’t need to spend all afternoon sassing each other. Did you or did you not discover an artefact in the Ashen Steppes?”
“Of course, I most certainly did,” the cyborg replied without skipping a beat. “Which is why they… detained me at the Gate.”
Smithy smiled. “Do you have it with you? The Star Piece?”
Fascinating. Now it was the machine-hybrid’s time to smirk. “Nah, I got it locked up, which I’m sure means nothing here in Coruscant.”
“Correct,” the metal man replied as he glanced out the window in the direction of the Venator. “There are seven of them in total. Seven Star Pieces.”
Seventeen gave a quick nod as he swiveled the office chair to partake in the staring of downtown Tier 2. “And they do…”
“Heh,” Smithy glanced briefly at the skinny fighter before turning away. “Unknown. In my world, they could grant wishes.”
Are you fucking … The cybernetic warrior didn’t roll his eyes for fear they would come spiraling from his skull. “Do they summon a dragon?”
Smithy turned and tilted his giant, metal cranium to the side. “No but there were talking puppets involved last time.”
Fucking Omniverse…
“I don’t believe these are the same exact items as they were in my world,” the man of metal spoke as he glanced up at the synthetic skyline. There was a roof up there—the floor of Tier 1—but technology had made it look like a beautiful, cloud-filled sky. “Even if they are not duplicates, there’s no denying that they contain great power. What that power will do in this… place, I do not know.”
Seventeen smirked. “But you wanna find out?”
Smithy glanced over his shoulder and smiled his metal smirk. “Reports are coming in more frequently about similar artefacts appearing with primes.” Turning one of his massive palms toward the sky, the walking metal man continued to grin as a little holographic image appeared. It was a dour-looking little girl with a simple dress and pink hair. The machine-hybrid recognized the individual as a fanfiction author whose writing made him feel uncomfortable. After a moment, another hologram appeared—a woman with glasses, dark hair, and animal ears. Then there was a red-skinned robot with a super serious look on his face. “These are confirmed through intelligence from field agents.”
“Doesn’t that one rule her own personal little fiefdom in the forest verse?” The cyborg remarked.
“The Tangled Green, and yes, you are correct. If it’s any consolation, we know that another Star Piece is in the hands of the Camelot Astronomers’ Guild. Any guesses to where they are headquartered?”
“The middle of nowhere?” Seventeen replied with a smile, knowing that he didn’t have a snowballs chance in hell of being correct.
“Dalaran. The wizard’s capital of the Omniverse.”
“Whelp, that sounds like a fun task you got there,” the machine-hybrid spoke with a laugh.
“Fun task that we have,” Smithy shot back with a serpentine grin.
Seventeen scowled. “This is one of those instances where someone pokes a gun against my back and has me execute minorities, isn’t it?”
The machine-man rolled his metal eyes and let his hand swing back down to his nonexistent waistline. “I do not work for the Empire, at least not in any official capacity. That doesn’t mean I lack the necessary ‘pull’ to clear you for any variety of fieldwork. And I don’t mean ‘fieldwork’ in the Imperial sense, where they’ll assign you to some pissant post.”
“I’d hope so,” Seventeen replied. “You gonna gift me seventy-two virgins when I get merc’d going after any of these people? Isn’t that red-faced dude the leader of a good guy hit squad?”
“The Avengers,” Smithy answered. Something in the metal creature’s tone made the cyborg believe that such information was freely available to the public. That was probably accurate, but the last time Seventeen had sat down to pursue the not-internet had been a few weeks ago. Or was it months? Days? Had a few weeks passed while he was talking to the angry-faced metal Santa Claus? Before the haze could settle over the cybernetic warrior’s mind, he heard the harsh sound of a metal throat being cleared. “Are you still concussed?”
The head shake was immediate. “Just a lot of stuff in the head,” Seventeen answered as he reached up and tapped a finger to the side of his head. “Hard to keep track of all the crap in this world.”
Smithy sneered. “You have a machine wired into your skull.”
A valid point. In response, the pale cyborg shrugged his shoulders. “I stopped relying on that stuff back before I died. Whole ‘machine versus man’ thing usually wound up with the former winning and the latter burning down orphanages and decapitating orphans.”
“Colorful,” the metal creature answered as he started toward the far side of the room. “It is important that we acquire the Star Pieces. They need to stay out of the hands of the Kingdom, Ambrosia, the Avengers, or any of the other factions that may vie for them. That power needs to be ours.” Smithy clenched his giant, gauntleted fist and left the cybernetic warrior wondering whether the machine meant the Empire, the two of them, or some collection of Smithy alter-egos.”
“Because…?”
The metal construct rolled his eyes. “Because power, Seventeen. I don’t care what morality you have, but when it comes to power, do you want it or would you rather let someone else take it from you?”
Silence.
Smithy smiled, understanding that the quiet in this moment meant he had made the valid point.
“Take care of business. I know that you have Imperial work, but I’ll get you the clearances. If you have an opportunity to acquire an additional Star Piece, you must take it. Safeguard the one you own, wherever it may be. Others will come sooner or later.”
“What will you be doing?”
“I’ll do my best to keep you updated. I have an additional field agent as well.”
Competition or cooperation?
Seventeen kept the question to himself and gave a slow nod. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could form, Smithy had already stepped up to the far wall and placed a giant hand against a wall sconce. With a fluid motion, the bearded metal giant vanished as the section of wall swiveled to reveal a carbon copy. For a few moments, the cyborg simply stared at the wall, unable to determine if he should feel dumbfounded or confounded. In the end, he shook his head. “You could have at least said goodbye. That’s just proper manners.”
The air around the cyborg started to glitter, and before he knew it, he was standing back in the lobby of the building.
![[Image: 17.jpg]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/17.jpg)