01-15-2017, 01:28 PM
Once they were a few yards away from the Gate, one of the Stormtroopers had slipped some sort of fabric sack over the cyborg’s face. With a laugh, Seventeen had reminded them that they lived in the largest city in the Omniverse and that a simple search of the Dataverse would tell him where they were headed. At that quip, one of the troopers had squeeze a little too tight on the restraints, prompting the raven-haired man to bite his tongue for the remainder of their march through the opulent entrance district of Coruscant.
Twenty minutes later, Seventeen heard the hiss of pneumatic doors and felt the climate change as he was ushered into the headquarters of the Empire Peace Division. After the sound of goose steps stopped, the sack was removed from his head, revealing the spacious foyer for what seemed to be a massive police precinct.
Although he’d been ushered halfway into the structure under armed guard, the crowds of armored and unarmored cops didn’t seem overly interested. Most had the expression or the pace of someone with places to go and things to do. No one paid much attention as the cyborg was guided through a set of large double doors and underneath a large plastic archway that thrummed loudly. Beyond that, there was a second pair of doors, but instead of glass, the material was a muted gray.
One of the Stormtroopers jogged up to the doors and depressed a button on the left wall. “Interrogations.” The armored man took a step back and glanced up at a little camera above the exit to the corridor. A little green light washed over his body, and a beat later, there was a loud click as the doors swung inward to reveal a surprisingly plain-looking hallway lined with doors. For all intents and purposes, it looked like the inside of a police department. In an open area to his right, there was even what appeared to be a water cooler and a coffee maker.
“This room,” one of the troopers barked as he pressed his hand against a small pad. After a flash of light beneath the armored man’s fingers, the wooden door popped open. “Inside,” he commanded as he gestured with his sidearm. “There’s a place for you to sit. Be advised that any misconduct is an admission of guilt.”
“Guilt of what?”
“Guilt.” The trooper replied angrily before shoving the lithe cyborg into the waiting room and slamming the sturdy wooden door shut.
“Not my fault your mother didn’t love you as a child,” Seventeen mumbled as he walked over and dropped himself into the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Mine abandoned me, and… y’know, aside from that period where I was a ruthless teenager assassin, I think I turned out all right.”
Glancing to his left, the machine-hybrid met his reflection in water cooler that sat just in front of the large mirror.
Mirror?
He shook his head. He was in a police station for interrogation, which meant the mirror was actually a one-way window. On the other side, he imagined there was probably a few guys chewing donuts and sipping coffee as they waited for Seventeen’s interrogator to materialize.
“Is this the part where you leave me to stew in my thoughts?” The cyborg asked toward his reflection. “You ever been dead? Or put in stasis? All you got are your thoughts. My thoughts and I are a-okay with one another.”
Silence.
Seventeen smiled after giving his shoulders are hearty shrug. If they were going to let him sit, he’d be more than happy to oblige them. The journey in the Barrel Train had been a grim reminder that he needed to install heated leather seats the next time he planned to drive the train/kart-monstrosity for several hours. Compared to that experience, the creaky wooden seat was divinity incarnate.
“I do look like shit though,” the cyborg muttered as he stared at his reflection in the one-way glass. All the rattling and the hot weather had caused his hair to fray and frizz, giving him a mildly manic appearance. Fortunately, his skin wasn’t any paler than usual, and the bags under his eyes were just as present as they had always been. He reached up and pressed a mildly calloused hand against the side of his face. “I wonder if I’ll age here.” He’d stopped aging after his death, so even though his ‘soul’ was pushing thirty, his meat suit was barely that of someone in their early twenties.
Cole and Piper must be close do double-digits now…
The thought of the life he’d left behind broke the normally bemused expression that the cyborg wore on his face.
And what about all the friends and confidants?
Ole Mikey, driving that ship around and cackling like a boy with his toys. That had been the last memory of his cybernetic friend that Seventeen could recall. Or Kirano. That boy’d be so pissed he got knocked the fuck out by that dragon.
“We’ll see each other again,” he whispered. “We all owe each other another barbeque.”
As that thought swirled in the cyborg’s head, the door let out another loud click and swung open as a man in an unimposing dark green uniform stepped inside. “Good afternoon, I’m Inspector Rath Smeros, EPD Immigrants.” The cop/soldier—Seventeen still wasn’t sure if there was a difference in Coruscant—pulled a chair from the other wall and sat down near the middle of the room. With a clipboard in one hand, he reached up and adjusted the beret he wore over whatever short hairstyle he may have had. “Name?” He inquired as he made eye contact for the first time.
“Seventeen.”
Rath, who had his pen at the ready, furrowed his brow. “That’s a number.”
The cyborg suppressed a laugh. “I guess it is, but you’re telling me you’ve met zero persons who might have names you find strange? No one, ‘Mr. Inspector Smeros’?”
“Don’t be a smart ass, you’re one negative report away from being a criminal.” Seventeen smiled but didn’t offer a rebuttal, and after scribbling something down onto his report, the officer returned to the questions. “Why are you in Coruscant?”
“Seemed like an interesting place. All the sparkly buildings. Can’t not be a good bar somewhere.”
“Pleasure-seeker?” Rath inquired as he made a few quick notes.
Seventeen shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think so? You’re making it sound like I’m looking for an opium den.”
Dead eyes and a deadpan response followed. “Are you, Mister Seventeen?”
At that, the cyborg only managed to half-stifle a laugh. He quickly composed himself at the sound of Rath started to scribble furiously onto his document. “I wasn’t aware those things existed here. What with how mercilo—effective! With how effective the brilliant security forces are in Coruscant.”
“Sarcasm won’t keep you out of handcuffs.”
“What about my brooding good looks and a smolder that could melt the heart of a nun?”
At that last part, Rath glanced up and scowled at the sneering man sitting across from him. “Let’s just cut right to the point. What’s the device you have, and why were you attempting to smuggle it into Coruscant, Mister Seventeen?”
“May I show you?” The cyborg asked as he held up both his hands for the other man to see. When Rath nodded, Seventeen reached into the little bag he wore on his belt and pulled out a fist-sized Bowser head. Rather than carry around the star, which seemed to constantly pulse with energy and radiate heat, he had created a little insulated container for it. “I’ve met King Bowser.” Seventeen pointed to the shell keychain on his belt. “You can get in touch with their people if you want to vet me, but I’m not lying. This is just some lava from their central castle, because I really liked my time there.”
“So, a little toy filled with lava is generating that much heat and has that much thermal energy?”
“You ever been inside a Koopa fortress?” Seventeen bluffed. “There’s a reason why they rule the Steppes, Man, they eat this shit for breakfast. Plus, it’s a dope flashlight and nightlight.”
The inspector scowled as he wrote down some additional notes. After half a minute of scrawling words, he sat up and pushed away the chair. “You’ve violated Imperial Law 216, Subsection 92, Clause 18. You are sentenced to no less than six weeks of community service and twelve weeks probation. Leaving Coruscant at any point will be an admission of guilt in the crime of contraband smuggling, as per Subsection 182, Clause 4.”
Seventeen furrowed his brow harder than he ever had in his entire life. “I have to clean up garbage for a month and a half?”
Rath smirked for a brief moment. “You’re a prime, if I’m not mistaken?” The cyborg nodded his head. “Then community service is conscription. You’ll remain here while they determine which unit you’ll be sent to.”
“How’s that fair?”
The inspector opened the door and pause to glance over his shoulder. “Life’s not fair, Mister Seventeen. Welcome to Coruscant.”
Twenty minutes later, Seventeen heard the hiss of pneumatic doors and felt the climate change as he was ushered into the headquarters of the Empire Peace Division. After the sound of goose steps stopped, the sack was removed from his head, revealing the spacious foyer for what seemed to be a massive police precinct.
Although he’d been ushered halfway into the structure under armed guard, the crowds of armored and unarmored cops didn’t seem overly interested. Most had the expression or the pace of someone with places to go and things to do. No one paid much attention as the cyborg was guided through a set of large double doors and underneath a large plastic archway that thrummed loudly. Beyond that, there was a second pair of doors, but instead of glass, the material was a muted gray.
One of the Stormtroopers jogged up to the doors and depressed a button on the left wall. “Interrogations.” The armored man took a step back and glanced up at a little camera above the exit to the corridor. A little green light washed over his body, and a beat later, there was a loud click as the doors swung inward to reveal a surprisingly plain-looking hallway lined with doors. For all intents and purposes, it looked like the inside of a police department. In an open area to his right, there was even what appeared to be a water cooler and a coffee maker.
“This room,” one of the troopers barked as he pressed his hand against a small pad. After a flash of light beneath the armored man’s fingers, the wooden door popped open. “Inside,” he commanded as he gestured with his sidearm. “There’s a place for you to sit. Be advised that any misconduct is an admission of guilt.”
“Guilt of what?”
“Guilt.” The trooper replied angrily before shoving the lithe cyborg into the waiting room and slamming the sturdy wooden door shut.
“Not my fault your mother didn’t love you as a child,” Seventeen mumbled as he walked over and dropped himself into the uncomfortable wooden chair. “Mine abandoned me, and… y’know, aside from that period where I was a ruthless teenager assassin, I think I turned out all right.”
Glancing to his left, the machine-hybrid met his reflection in water cooler that sat just in front of the large mirror.
Mirror?
He shook his head. He was in a police station for interrogation, which meant the mirror was actually a one-way window. On the other side, he imagined there was probably a few guys chewing donuts and sipping coffee as they waited for Seventeen’s interrogator to materialize.
“Is this the part where you leave me to stew in my thoughts?” The cyborg asked toward his reflection. “You ever been dead? Or put in stasis? All you got are your thoughts. My thoughts and I are a-okay with one another.”
Silence.
Seventeen smiled after giving his shoulders are hearty shrug. If they were going to let him sit, he’d be more than happy to oblige them. The journey in the Barrel Train had been a grim reminder that he needed to install heated leather seats the next time he planned to drive the train/kart-monstrosity for several hours. Compared to that experience, the creaky wooden seat was divinity incarnate.
“I do look like shit though,” the cyborg muttered as he stared at his reflection in the one-way glass. All the rattling and the hot weather had caused his hair to fray and frizz, giving him a mildly manic appearance. Fortunately, his skin wasn’t any paler than usual, and the bags under his eyes were just as present as they had always been. He reached up and pressed a mildly calloused hand against the side of his face. “I wonder if I’ll age here.” He’d stopped aging after his death, so even though his ‘soul’ was pushing thirty, his meat suit was barely that of someone in their early twenties.
Cole and Piper must be close do double-digits now…
The thought of the life he’d left behind broke the normally bemused expression that the cyborg wore on his face.
And what about all the friends and confidants?
Ole Mikey, driving that ship around and cackling like a boy with his toys. That had been the last memory of his cybernetic friend that Seventeen could recall. Or Kirano. That boy’d be so pissed he got knocked the fuck out by that dragon.
“We’ll see each other again,” he whispered. “We all owe each other another barbeque.”
As that thought swirled in the cyborg’s head, the door let out another loud click and swung open as a man in an unimposing dark green uniform stepped inside. “Good afternoon, I’m Inspector Rath Smeros, EPD Immigrants.” The cop/soldier—Seventeen still wasn’t sure if there was a difference in Coruscant—pulled a chair from the other wall and sat down near the middle of the room. With a clipboard in one hand, he reached up and adjusted the beret he wore over whatever short hairstyle he may have had. “Name?” He inquired as he made eye contact for the first time.
“Seventeen.”
Rath, who had his pen at the ready, furrowed his brow. “That’s a number.”
The cyborg suppressed a laugh. “I guess it is, but you’re telling me you’ve met zero persons who might have names you find strange? No one, ‘Mr. Inspector Smeros’?”
“Don’t be a smart ass, you’re one negative report away from being a criminal.” Seventeen smiled but didn’t offer a rebuttal, and after scribbling something down onto his report, the officer returned to the questions. “Why are you in Coruscant?”
“Seemed like an interesting place. All the sparkly buildings. Can’t not be a good bar somewhere.”
“Pleasure-seeker?” Rath inquired as he made a few quick notes.
Seventeen shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think so? You’re making it sound like I’m looking for an opium den.”
Dead eyes and a deadpan response followed. “Are you, Mister Seventeen?”
At that, the cyborg only managed to half-stifle a laugh. He quickly composed himself at the sound of Rath started to scribble furiously onto his document. “I wasn’t aware those things existed here. What with how mercilo—effective! With how effective the brilliant security forces are in Coruscant.”
“Sarcasm won’t keep you out of handcuffs.”
“What about my brooding good looks and a smolder that could melt the heart of a nun?”
At that last part, Rath glanced up and scowled at the sneering man sitting across from him. “Let’s just cut right to the point. What’s the device you have, and why were you attempting to smuggle it into Coruscant, Mister Seventeen?”
“May I show you?” The cyborg asked as he held up both his hands for the other man to see. When Rath nodded, Seventeen reached into the little bag he wore on his belt and pulled out a fist-sized Bowser head. Rather than carry around the star, which seemed to constantly pulse with energy and radiate heat, he had created a little insulated container for it. “I’ve met King Bowser.” Seventeen pointed to the shell keychain on his belt. “You can get in touch with their people if you want to vet me, but I’m not lying. This is just some lava from their central castle, because I really liked my time there.”
“So, a little toy filled with lava is generating that much heat and has that much thermal energy?”
“You ever been inside a Koopa fortress?” Seventeen bluffed. “There’s a reason why they rule the Steppes, Man, they eat this shit for breakfast. Plus, it’s a dope flashlight and nightlight.”
The inspector scowled as he wrote down some additional notes. After half a minute of scrawling words, he sat up and pushed away the chair. “You’ve violated Imperial Law 216, Subsection 92, Clause 18. You are sentenced to no less than six weeks of community service and twelve weeks probation. Leaving Coruscant at any point will be an admission of guilt in the crime of contraband smuggling, as per Subsection 182, Clause 4.”
Seventeen furrowed his brow harder than he ever had in his entire life. “I have to clean up garbage for a month and a half?”
Rath smirked for a brief moment. “You’re a prime, if I’m not mistaken?” The cyborg nodded his head. “Then community service is conscription. You’ll remain here while they determine which unit you’ll be sent to.”
“How’s that fair?”
The inspector opened the door and pause to glance over his shoulder. “Life’s not fair, Mister Seventeen. Welcome to Coruscant.”
![[Image: 17.jpg]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/17.jpg)