Return to Coruscant [Exemplary]

[Vitruvius]

The world became numbers and angles, broken down to its most basic and mathematical structure. Guards were in position, giving him approximately two point five seconds to respond to any enemy fire, being out in the open guaranteed non-critical wounds, thirty-five percent chance of mortal wounding, twenty percent was instantly fatal. Though he was made of inhuman materials, his hard drives and mother boards were just delicate as a human brain. If they could pierce his skull and the internal casings that protected his systems, he would short circuit and meet critical shut down in milliseconds. A serpentine escape pattern would be his best course, quickly dodging into the elevator once more. Running as far to side of the gun fire would minimize damage and increase range, thereby reducing their accuracy (Given Stormtroopers were apparently terrible shots to begin with as their blasters weren't meant for long distance), but then they could continue to hunt him and raise suspicion, which thereby raised the element of meeting an end, not a resolution.

And then she appeared. He assumed she by her chasis. Feminine in design. Lethal in execution. A cannon was in place of a humanoid hand. A domed casing was her head. So close to human looking, but very mechanical in certain aspects. The rusted orange coloring made his databanks snap to the image of the figure falling from the building back in Tier Five. Brief. Split second. But perfect memory and data capture assured him she was a match. Previously he had been confused as to who she had been. Now he saw as plain as the artificial day that she had been a hunter. Though he faced potential harm, he enjoyed the simplistic militaristic design of her components. She looked efficient and functional. Elegant. Dangerous. Her creators seemed brilliant.

“Surrender yourself,” Her voice broke the tense silence. The wires snapping and severing his focus on analyzing her visage. The piercing blue sensors stared straight into her clouded visor, “And I won't have to kill you.” She spoke with cold authority. A machine that had given the line millions of times before. A program built around apprehending and punishing targets. An objective entity that gave opportunity to concede or to resist and face termination.

And because of that simple fact. A machine that gave two options, Vitruvius was able to narrow down all his infinite possibilities to the one of least resistance. His hands raised, yielding to the imposing figure aiming its weapon at him. With an honest plea, the robot's voice projected toward his captor, “Help me. Please.”