Toys, Clocks, and Wind-up Dolls (Rowan)

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime stopped in front of the apartment building and looked up the length of its five stories once more, squinting his eyes from the reflection of the suns against the windows above him. Rowan just had to live on the fourth floor, didn't she? As if her existence had to pain him in more fashions than one, she couldn't just be convenient. None of them could.

The tall figure looked to the side of him, where a cargo lift, covered and tied down with a black sheet, and three individuals waited. Ithiel Malchiel was leaning against the wall, his hat providing shade to his vision that Grime was confident encompassed everything before him with dead eye accuracy. Malchiel had already proven himself the deadliest piece of fire power that Grime could have collected. The man beside Ithiel, actually resting on the cargo at the moment, appeared comfortable, but then again, Morrolan e'Drein had appeared comfortable when Grime had first met him. And within moments of that initial meeting, a knife had been protruding from Grime's shoulder. e'Drein had initiative, that much was sure and the man was good on his feet. The woman basking and stretching in the afternoon sunlight had a much more felinistic grace than even Morrolan could pull off while lounging. And while Morrolan's concealed punching dagger and throwing knives was another point to Grime's collection, the fact that Valeria Tur'ilian could change her form to that of a destructive beast could not go ignored. Grime was actually pleased with his subordinates abilities. As long as they maintained and improved to keep up with Grime's needs.

And then there was Rowan Averre. The reluctant and yet very usuable noncombative that Grime would consider still a notable acquirement. From what he understood, one waif of a woman was able to do a job that most in the underworld relied on three or four to do over a much larger of time. Her previous... employers had not known the true value of Rowan Averre or else they would've taken more measures to ensure her security.

Rowan didn't know it, but he had left Valeria in his stead while he collected e'Drein, and as a bonus, Malchiel, to watch over the small woman discreetly. Valeria had obviously been enjoying herself with the amount Grime had left her with because she was wearing clothing that just didn't exist in the slums of Iziz. But Grime hoped it hadn't been at any serious cost to what she had been left to guard in the first place.

"Wait here."

It had been about a month since Grime's last visit to this industrialist's candyland of computers and technology...

=======

Nearly a month ago, two days after their first meeting...

"Wait here."

Valeria crossed her arms over her breasts and pouted as she slumped against the wall as Grime opened the door to the apartment. His metal boots rang against the concrete stairs as he proceeded to the fourth floor and once more followed the trails of power cords and extension cables leading to a major junction at one of the rooms along the hallway. He didn't waste any time as he put his hand to the door and forced the lock with a shudder of the Force. Like tilting a machine but a bit messier, her door was sturdy enough.

And even then, Grime didn't feel like waiting long. His voice projected into the room with its raspy coarseness.

"Averre. Come out."

Grime passed the burnt handprint on the wall beside him, the paint peeled back as if it were dead skin all around it...

[Rowan Averre]

Five bars of soap, two bottles of shampoo, and seven showers later, Rowan could still feel her hands dripping with Kryzt’s blood. She wished he would say something to her, but he just laid there as silent as when she had first found him. She had tried talking to him at first, but couldn’t bring herself to try anymore after the first few hours. Instead she had reverted to writing letters to him on a datapad, but he hadn’t replied even to those.
<o></o>
She sat down in the middle of the floor, scarcely noticing the water her wet clothes had dripped everywhere. She hadn’t changed since she found Kryzt, hadn’t let him out of her sight except for her showers and then that was only because he was too heavy for her to move back and forth after the first time she had tried. Moving him here had sapped almost all her energy from her, the lack of sleep made it worse, hours spent staring at the bed in the hope that Kryzt would finally sit up and smile and then he could hold her and then everything would be right with the world again.
<o></o>
Never mind that his wounds had stopped bleeding long ago. Never mind that his eyes weren’t blinking or that his chest wasn’t moving up and down in some semblance of breathing. Never mind that his heart wasn’t even beating.
<o></o>
Rowan refused to see what wasn’t there and focused instead on what was. Kryzt was there and she was here on the floor watching, waiting, hoping. She could be patient even if he had never thought she could be. She’d wait a lifetime just to see him smile again.
<o></o>
Gazing intently at the bed, her body twitched upon hearing the barest whispers of a shout. Nothing like violence to turn down the volume of everything else. No matter, the voice wasn’t Kryzt’s and if it wasn’t Kryzt, it wasn’t of any importance.

[Hawkins Grime]

"What the...?"

Grime's voice wasn't loud at all at this point, it had reverted back to its raspy whisper. The room stunk beyond burnt ozone of too many electronics in one room. It smelled exactly like the corpse might that was sprawled out on the bed in front of him. And the runt was sitting in the middle of the room staring at it! Hawkins wanted to hit her across the room. He needed her alive, not catching some disease from some corpse she was infatuated with. Suppressing the urge, one metal hand reached out and grabbed Rowan by her hair. There was no hesitation either, Grime's hand was metal and any pain Rowan might be able to inflict was nothing against the armored plates of his body. Well, Grime was hoping she wasn't dumb enough to actually try anything that might do something because that could result in a response that she would pay for immediately, and would only hinder Grime further as he waited for her to recover.

She was lost in what she had lost. The realization was still sinking in, even two days later after the Tongue had removed her boy toy from existence. But Grime had lost so much more and then some. She hadn't died and lost her life in its entirity yet, just yet, ergo she could bloody well make do.

Grime actually lifted her up by her hair and hurled her into the couch in the living room area. As soon as she was out of his hands, he dropped a large bag onto the table, the top laces uncoming done and a slew of datapads toppled out onto the table.

"Wake up, runt."

Grime coughed a bit as he turned around and returned to the bedroom. Where were all the normal sheep? Why couldn't they all just be like the other simpletons in every other system? Grime's porcelain face turned up in a sneer as he grabbed the corpse by the foot and drug it off the bed and into the hallway. Dropping the boot, he nudged the other doors in the hallway open until he found the bathroom and then resumed his hold on the body and slid it into the bathroom and ungracefully into the bathtub.

Returning to the living room, his tormented eyes, brimming with an uncomprehensive pain, looked at the rag doll he had tossed onto the couch.

"Information on droids, weapons, machines, simple and complex, vehicle and star ship mechanics, more advanced computers, cybernetics, engineering, and more... All leased from a library that won't come looking for these datapads so they are yours."

Grime covered his mouth as he coughed and hacked for a moment and then continued. Here was the punch line...

"That corpse is about to burn and disappear... You've only lost a fraction of what I have... so stilfe your tears, runt. We've got work to do. Work, make another life and you'll find something else to focus yourself upon... For now you'll focus on this... Don't waste what you still have and make your losses insignificant by not living up to what they mean..."

Nevermind that if she can't pull it together, Grime will just smear her face against the wall until there's nothing left.

[Rowan Averre]

“What the…”<o></o>
<o></o>
A whisper, but somehow so much louder than the shout had been. And out of the corner of her eyes she saw him, no, not him, it.
<o></o>
Oh gods, not again. Not the monster that had started all this mess, that had been the reason for…well the reason Kryzt wasn’t responding to her. She ignored the obvious, focusing on Kryzt as he walked closer and closer to her. Every step he took brought him that much nearer to her, and more importantly to her beloved. After seeing what that…thing could do to Cryg’ll, she was terribly afraid of what he could do to the person who meant everything to her.
<o></o>
He was too close now, so close she wanted to flinch, which of course she ended up doing the second what he passed off as a hand touched her head. Grabbing her hair, he picked her up, going limp she struggled not to moan in pain. Cryg’ll had always liked it too much when she screamed. Tossed on the couch, perfect size and temperament to be treated like a rag doll again and again and again.
<o></o>
"Wake up, runt."<o></o>
<o></o>
Grime was doing something in her bedroom, something to Kryzt. Pure panic overtook her, immobilizing her, shutting her mind down until she was lost in a haze of fear and confusion.
<o></o>
"Information on droids, weapons, machines, simple and complex, vehicle and star ship mechanics, more advanced computers, cybernetics, engineering, and more... All leased from a library that won't come looking for these datapads so they are yours."
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There were datapads in front of her now, shiny, calling to her, begging for her to pick them up and learn, to take everything in them and cram as much as possible into her brain.
<o></o>
A cough, she glanced up into eyes filled with pain. A monster that can feel, not a monster, just a twisted excuse for a human. More words from him now. Corpse, burning. Kryzt, burning. Kryzt, corpse. Kryzt, dead. And that was her life.
<o></o>
Resignation now. Sorrow too. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks, eyes burning with a million tears trying to be shed all at once. Time to grow up Rowan. Forget what might have been, focus on what can be. Feed on the fear and sorrow and hatred and anger, and in turn feed it, let it consume everything. Cryg’ll may not be able to pay for what he’s done anymore, but one day this creature can. Grab a weapon, kill him now.
<o></o>
No, no, no, no, no. She’s not him. She lives on hope and love, not anger and hatred. <o></o>
Reaching out for the datapads, she dreams.

[Hawkins Grime]

She moved, reached towards the datapads and Grime took it as some form of acceptance. He caught the next racking cough in his throat, stifling it as he returned to the bathroom. His skin was already crawling underneath his exoskeleton; it didn't get any better as soon as his eyes met the one good eye that remained of the corpse in the bath tub.

Grime drew his sword slowly, his upper lip lifting up in a sneer as he grabbed one boot and lifted the leg up into the air. He made one step into the tub himself, steading the outstretched leg, his sword came down like a saw, the sonic vibrations of the ancient vibroblade easily slicing into the limb. Coagulated blood pooled at the cut and dripped like some kind of purplish goop. Blood splattered here and there as ripened muscles popped and bone was cut away. Grime dropped the now free limb ontop of the body and repeated the process with the other leg. Overall it took maybe five minutes to remove both legs.

The stench was horrid. And yet so reminiscent of Grime's most memorable point of existence, if one would call that an existence. It was more like a visit to Hell.

=======

"Ya' know wad' dis is, dere? Its ah 'ammah. It'll shattah ya bonesah but not be breakin' em. Nifteh trick, dat, yah?"

And that is exactly what it had done. After both shoulders had been shattered, and then bacta applied and an injection of pain killers, CENSORED almost thought he was starting to like it. And then they had used it on his teeth.

"Ah right, boss man. We're just gonna do ya a favor and pull that shattered mess out. We heard its easier to do though if its eated up a bit though, ain't it?"

A blow torch to his gums later and CENSORED was struggling to come to terms that he would never get the smell of his own burnt flesh out of what was left of his nose. To say the least, if it wasn't for the drugs, and that doctor watching everything from his **** to his brain chemicals, CENSORED would not have been struggling by now. But they were keeping him going, he could've lost all kinds of motivation but they provided his body with everything it needed to keep going. Forever it seemed, to keep going into an eternity of pain.

=======

The arms were gone by now and small thick droplets of blood were falling from the shower head where a chunk of flesh had popped onto under the pressure of the blade. Grime stood, still sneering, his boot slammed against the wall, where it had pressed through the softened skull of the corpse, leaving nothing but brain mass stuck to the treads of Hawkins' boot. The room was heating up quickly; the air itself seemed about to light on fire.

[Rowan Averre]

She hears Grime now, moving around in the bathroom, doing things she tries not to think about to Kryzt. Eyes closed, datapad in hand, she wishes she could absorb the knowledge contained in them by just holding them. No such luck. Eyes opened, she refuses to look towards the bathroom but then she hears a thud. Knee-jerk reaction, glances up to look but she can barely make out what Grime is doing.
<o></o>
Heat. Not as hot as its been before, enough to make her feel uncomfortable and glad she isn’t in the same room as him. Grime terrifies her, makes her wish she still had Kryzt to hide behind. Little Rowan, can’t even take care of herself. She hates the life she’s created.
<o></o>
She wishes he would just burn this place to the ground. All the reminders, all her stuff, gone, just like that. She knows she’s at that age though, where too much of her life is invested in her possessions, too old to start over, young enough to remember what it was like to be able to and wish she could.
<o></o>
Grime’s still there, lurking in her bathroom. She should have been the one to do that. She hates her lack of strength, mental, physical, emotional. She couldn’t be there for Kryzt in life, or after his death. Instead, she left the man who got them into this mess to take care of it.
<o></o>
She’s learning far too quickly it’s far easier to hate and blame yourself than actually take action against those who deserve it. Her tears finally stop. She wishes she had died instead of Kryzt.

[Hawkins Grime]

Currently

Grime opened the door to Averre's apartment once more. The place still smelled like that corpse he had practically melted down in her bathroom. To be honest, he didn't mind the smell as much. By now, Hawkins wasn't just accustomed to that smell, he was starting to like it.

He had left the small female with a multitude of datapads to keep her busy in his absence, beyond what she was originally supposed to be doing of course for the business here in Iziz. The topics had ranged from simple mechanics to droid construction and preflight astroalgorithms. Hopefully she had at least read one or two of them and would be of some more use for something.

Again, Hawkins passed the handprint, one corner of his mouth turning up in the slightest of smirks.

"Averre... Get out here..."

He stood in her living room once more, not compelled to go searching for her or make any extra effort. Hawkins had enough to do already, mix that with his general attitude, and then Rowan's consistent hesitations... Grime sighed as he glanced down the hallway leading to the bedroom, computer room, and bathroom.

[Rowan Averre]

Rowan sat with her knees pressed against her chest as she continued reading the datapads Grime had given her. She wasn’t particularly interested in mechanics, though the information on setting up computer systems on ships kept her interested enough to remember most of what she was reading. She’d already made her way through all the datapads she’d been given on computer engineering, most of the information she’d already know, some of the material was even stuff she had borrowed from Medlar to read years ago. She’d read every word though, with the idea that maybe if she remembered how to do the basics by the book rather than how she might do them, then she could teach someone else to and have someone help her one day.
<o>
</o><st1><st1:city w:st="on">Reading</st1:city></st1> about droids had been her favorite, the artificial intelligence stuff was so fascinating, even if reading about how to construct a droid’s body wasn’t so much. She wanted so much to get her hands on some AI work so she could see just how to do it, rather than how the datapad told her how to. There could always be a faster or better way to do something. She hadn’t touched any of the information on weapons, leaving it for last. Too much violence already. Cybernetics had been fairly intriguing, simple mechanics had been ok to read about. The more complex stuff though, that was being a bit of a struggle, not for lack of understanding, just lack of interest.

"Averre... Get out here..."<o></o>
<o></o>
Rowan flinched, she hadn’t heard someone’s voice directed at her much at all in the weeks since Grime had left. Her stomach clenched, Grime still stood for everything that terrified her. Standing up, she walked to the living room on unsteady legs. She’d forgotten about eating much without Kryzt there to remind her; ended up losing about ten pounds that she couldn’t afford to lose. Bruises were all over her body, not from being hit, but from accidentally brushing her arm against a wall or sitting on her leg when she sat down. Eyes were bloodshot, she looked sallow and sickly, more like a walking corpse than she ever had.
<o></o>
She walked into the living room not noticing she still had the datapad in her hand. Sitting down on the floor, she tried not to cower in fear of Grime, but ended up being unsuccessful. Fear still managed to rule all her life.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime looked down at her, the flesh beneath the white face quivered in sudden frustration, although she or anyone else would never be able to tell it. Maybe he should've had Valeria do more than just watch over the building and have sent her in to feed this pathetic excuse for a person. Hawkins didn't know she'd be trading any common sense whatsoever that she had previously laid claim to for all those datapads he'd given her. This was ridiculous. And this place smelled worse than Grime's own place in the slums.

Fortunately this location was no longer necessary. Grime had the Malevolent Wyvern and more than enough room for this disgusting sliver of a girl and all of her computer equipment and then some. And he needed her in working condition, not like something caught between this world and the next.

His flesh shuddered and twisted beneath the exoskeleton but she wouldn't be able to tell as Hawkins silently stepped towards her and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. He wanted to kill her. Grime wanted to explain to her that she wasn't any good to him if she desired to remain like this and if that was the case, he would make sure she never died, as that was seemingly her desire, to just fade away. He wanted to explain the misery it was to live, to continue living, and know that there is an inevitable end to everything and that Grime would persist her life in order to hold that end off as long as she could just to deny her that wish because he needed her functioning. She was his tool, his application, and she was not supposed to have such a say over herself. Grime physically felt like a clockwork doll, but to him, everything else in this forsaken universe was his to make and break.

Hawkins stepped out into the sunlight of the afternoon, squinting as his eyes adjusted, ignoring whatever discomfort Averre might have in her current position. Grime was actually rather sick and tired of her, having taken her small frame down four flights of stairs. He didn't even have to say anything though as Ithiel Malchiel, a man even taller than Hawkins' stature stepped forward and took the small girl in his arms without a word.

The man with the pale face turned to Morrolan and Valeria and then looked to the door.

"Grab any and all equipment upstairs. Bring the cargo back to the Wyvern when you are done."

Hawkins reached for the datapad in her small grasp and then dropped his hand as he sneered. He spit blood that had gathered in the back of his throat from just the simple walk down the stairs.

"Lead on Ithiel, back to the Wyvern."

[Rowan Averre]

Two Days Later
<o></o>
Rowan woke up to a spinning room in an unfamiliar place. The last thing she remembered was being picked up by Grime and, in terror or fatigue or maybe something else, everything went black. Slowly she calmed herself down until the vertigo subsided enough for her to stand up.
<o></o>
Looking around the room she saw some of her computer equipment and the datapads lying around, even better though was the food sitting on the table next to the bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually eaten and even so the food she had eaten before scarcely deserved the name. Sitting back down on the bed she grabbed it and placed it in her lap. There were a few pieces of fruit, some vegetables, water, and a bit of dried meat.
<o></o>
She started on the vegetables first, cramming them into her mouth at an alarming rate without a second thought as to if they could be laced with anything or not. She saved the fruit for last, trying her best to slow down her pace and savor it. She loved fruit so much, if she hadn’t needed to save so much of her money for computer parts she would have spent a great amount of money on the most random assortment of fruit she could fin.
<o></o>
After fruit she would have bought clothing. She adored frilly skirts and dresses, especially shorts ones worn with combat boots, but after Medlar has died she hadn’t had the money to buy such frivolous things. Finally, she would have wanted a book, a real book, printed on paper with a hard cover. Medlar had had two and she used to sneak into his room to read them. There was something wonderful about the weight of them in her lap, the smell of the pages, even the way in which they would wear out from being used to much.
<o></o>
However as much as she liked to dream about them, dresses and fruit and books wouldn’t explain why Medlar had been killed. Now that Cryg’ll was dead it seemed like there was no more reason for her to investigate the matter further. However, she had invested so much time and effort into this that she had to know what had happened even if it took her whole life to learn.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime came in and set another tray of food with a glass of water on the table and then made several grinding noises as his exoskeleton dropped his frame into the chair on the other side of the small room. The room was rather clean and pristine, it had better be, the ship was relatively new and of modern design.

The Malevolent Wyvern was a moderately modified YT-1930 that Grime, e'Drein, and Malchiel had hijacked to escape the remainder of the Obyn Boys and their reinforcements. Hawkins still wasn't sure who the former owner was but the cargo the ship had still been carrying had been a fortune and enough to get a small make over done on the ship and then some. Grime was more than pleased in the reaped rewards of that assassination.

Killing Obyn hadn't been just satisfying, but very, very beneficial in the long term. e'Drein had proven himself more than useful in combat and Ithiel Malchiel had joined on sheer display and some mumbo jumbo dren about Hawkins' having 'true and clear purpose'. Grime cared less, Ithiel had been anything but subordinate since then. Hawkins was more than glad to have an addition who already came prepackaged, knowing their place without having being told first. Not that Grime wasn't distrustful, no, even in whatever resemblance of sleep he could get, he still woke now and then waiting for the chance to preemptively catch anyone of them making their move against him. He knew the temptation, oh how he knew, and it was there, no matter how much they proved to him, it would always be there, gnawing at the foundation.

"Eat more, drink. Do so slowly or you'll make yourself sick. And I don't feel like waiting any longer for you."

It was Ithiel's room she was occupying, not that Grime cared. If Ithiel wanted to let her occupy it for the time being, then so be it. A majority of Wren's things currently occupied one of the two secret compartments onboard. She had so much illegal electronics and equipment for slicing and whatever else she could do with that junk that it was ridiculous. Ithiel had even set up a hammock for her to sleep in by the tech station, which given the respective skills of everyone else, was more or less Rowan's domain. So she had little privacy there, but then again, all of them were lacking in that respect on the Wyvern.

[Rowan Averre]

After she finished her food, she heard someone walk into the room. Glancing up from behind her curtain of hair she saw it was Grime with even more food. Her stomach was beginning to hurt though, ate too fast. She was currently trying to resist the urge to simultaneously curl into a ball and shove all the food into her mouth again. Instead she silently took the food and ducked her head to ensure her eyes wouldn’t meet Grime’s. It was oatmeal thankfully, anything more flavorful and she was sure she would be sick. Except that noise he made when he sat down, that was just creepy and disturbing enough to upset her stomach more.
<o></o>
"Eat more, drink. Do so slowly or you'll make yourself sick. And I don't feel like waiting any longer for you."<o></o>
<o></o>
Oops, too late. Oh well, as long as he didn’t find out she’d already done that she should be fine. Slowly she started eating the food, rather anxious to have Grime sitting there watching her as she ate. When she finally finished, her stomach had calmed down a bit, though she was still fighting the urge to curl into a ball and go back to sleep for a while.
<o></o>
She leaned over some, eyes still fixated on a random spot on the floor. Twisting her hands together she tried to gather up the courage to ask Grime at least one question out of the multitude that were floating around in her head. She figured any more than one would probably annoy him and she was terrified of the idea of an annoyed Grime.
<o></o>
Moving her left hand up to play with her hair, she asked in a barely audible voice, “Where am I?”

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime sighed, as if she should already know the answer to that question, as if she shouldn't ask anymore questions because she should already know all the answers anyways.

"Quit playing with your hair; you haven't had a shower in who knows how long. You're on the Malevolent Wyvern, my ship."

Grime stood slowly, making similar noises as before, and then winced as he 'stretched', which consisted of just straightening all of his limbs where he stood. He could feel the muscles writhe in agony but occasionally it just felt necessary to do. The stiffness never seemed to go away and Grime suspected the exoskeleton but what else was new besides the prospect of more discomfort and pain?

"Follow me..."

Grime didn't bother to look behind him as he stepped out. He casually waved at the other two doors to their right.

"e'Drein's room and then my cabin, both off limits..."

Instead of turning in that direction though, Grime turned left and started walking slowly, in no real hurry. They reached an open area with the cockpit in visible sight to the left and the center gunwell to the right. Grime didn't feel it necessary to explain, the main ramp was right beneath their feet, and again, Grime didn't feel it worth mentioning because in his mind he never saw a reason for Rowan to actually have to leave.

Hawkins continued on into the right wing of the Wyvern. The space opened up again and to their left sat Ithiel and e'Drein playing a game of strategy against each other on the holotable. Beyond that, on the left, was a heavily modified technical station and work place. And there tied imbetween the table and to a locker nearby hung the hammock Ithiel had set up for Rowan.

"There is actually where you sleep. And there is a work station as well as a technical station for your use. e'Drein sorted out all your equipment and determined which one was your main access console and set it up here."

Grime didn't want to spend too much time here as he still had one last thing to show her and he'd much rather let her do whatever she wanted later after she finished doing what he wanted. She just needed to get a feel for the place; her tech station was far more advanced and far more powerful than anything she could've had in her apartment. That would keep her happy for a bit. The next part would seal the deal as far as Grime thought. He highly doubted he was wrong.

[Rowan Averre]

"Quit playing with your hair; you haven't had a shower in who knows how long. You're on the Malevolent Wyvern, my ship."
<o></o>
Rowan blinked in confusion, when was the last time she had had a shower? Pulling her hand down from her hair, she began to fidget in discomfort. Hopefully she could take a shower soon. She was rather frustrated with herself now, every time something new and interesting came around she would lose herself in that and forget everything else, like eating or taking care of herself. Kryzt had been good at reminding her to do that but without him, she just forgot.

"Follow me..."<o></o>

Rowan stood up and walked behind him, hoping she wouldn’t have to run to keep up with him, especially since her stomach was still hurting her. Thankfully, he walked at a nice and slow pace she could easily match.

"e'Drein's room and then my cabin, both off limits..."

Like she would ever think of going into either of their rooms. She had no idea who the first person was, but if he was associated with Grime, he must be scary enough. As they walked by what she thought was the cockpit, she looked right and saw a gunwell. Great, with guns comes killing and violence and all sorts of things Rowan hated with a passion. Hopefully they would never make her use a weapon. She’d probably do more damage to herself than whoever she was trying to harm.
<o></o>
As they walked into a more open area, Rowan saw two men sitting at a table playing a strategy game. Both looked terrifying. She moved closer behind Grime, trying to make as little as possible of her visible to the two of them, though they both seemed so engrossed in their game that they scarcely noticed her. She hoped these two and Grime were the last of the frightening people she would be dealing with.

"There is actually where you sleep. And there is a work station as well as a technical station for your use. e'Drein sorted out all your equipment and determined which one was your main access console and set it up here."
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Rowan’s mouth gaped open in shock. There was more expensive and powerful equipment here than she probably could have amassed in her whole life. And she could sleep next to it every single night, rather than just the nights she hadn’t been with Kryzt. That might turn out badly, she was fairly sure she would forget about food and everything else. But how could she not with so many new interesting things to do? At least other people would be around, and they were scary enough to have no problem convincing her to take care of herself. She walked over to the equipment, reached her hand out and ran it over a computer before jerking it back remembering what Grime had said about playing with her hair.
<o></o>
Turning around, she ducked her head and kicked her foot against the floor. “Umm, could I take a shower or something,” she whispered.

[Hawkins Grime]

"After I finish. Follow me, back the way we came."

He turned slowly and started back towards the ship's quarters. Grime had seen her hand reach out, seen the amazement twinkle in her eyes, when she spotted the tech station. Good, it was more or less as he intended. And as much as he wanted the small runt to clean herself and be rid of that peculiar body odor of hers, Hawkins would rather finish this off so he could just leave her to it. The stench was like burnt ozone and sweat, as if she'd fallen asleep in a sauna heated by electrical equipment.

They passed the cockpit, and then the three rooms and stopped before they continued any further towards the back of the left wing of the ship where the cargo area and freezer were. Across from the room containing the escape pods, Grime faced the wall and ran his hand across one of the seemingly normal panels. There was no immediate reaction until Grime put his hands on his knees, and his mouth as close to the panel as he could. He spoke softly but still loud enough that Rowan could hear. The panel was at a height convenient enough for Rowan that she wouldn't have to bend over like Hawkins did.

"Grime... Identify new user access... Averre..."

He stood back up, making several small creaking noises as he did so, and turned to Rowan.

"The next time you come back here, repeat the process but identify yourself as the new user, Averre..."

The wall in front of them split into three seperate pieces, the top and bottom sliding to the right and the middle section to the left. The new room that was suddenly visible housed all of Rowan's equipment as well as a large apparatus that looked oddly like an arm that was attached to the ceiling. Rowan, if she'd read any of those datapads Grime had given her, should've been able to recognize a droid construction/mechanic unit at the time but Grime would let her fend for herself if she didn't. In the center of the secret compartment stood a massive industrial droid. It was hunched over and it still touched the ceiling of the ship. It was a wonder that Ithiel and e'Drein had even gotten it in there. This droid and the other two hanging on the wall behind it had been found in one of the two cargo holds of the ship.

They had obviously been of some use of the previous owner, an industrial labor droid, some bipedal combat droid, and a maintenance droid. They were old and had been through a lot, but the fact that Grime had been able to get his hands on some illegal droid manufacturing parts meant that many possibilities could come from this. Not to mention the trouble he'd gone through for the AI components, power generators, and the linking module to connect the tech station to all the equipment located in the compartment.

"I want you to fashion me a droid, Averre. I don't expect it right away but I expect you to put everything you can into it. I expect that with the advanced equipment I am providing you, your previous tasks, assisting me in maintaining my business in the black market on Iziz will go much easier and therefore afford you more time in working on this..."

Grime pointed to the hulking machine.

"Upon completion, until I task you with something else, and as long as you continue your routine duties, you are free to do as you will. Do not waste my money, equipment, or time. If you need something, and I mean need, ask. If it is something I need, do not hesitate at all in asking for what is required in order that I may ensure you have it as soon as possible.

Go take a shower, Valeria left some of her toiletries in Ithiel's shower in his cabin for your use."

And with that, Grime turned back, the door to his cabin opening as he approached. An oddly soothing music was playing inside and some female, obviously Valeria, was somewhere inside humming along to it. But the noise was muffled as soon as the door closed behind Grime.

[Rowan Averre]

Oh good. She couldn’t wait to get away from Grime, if only for a little bit. Living on this ship would be…interesting. Probably would make her completely neurotic, expecting to see him around every corner and every time she woke up or went to sleep. She wondered if he knew just how terrifying he was, but then again, he killed people like it was nothing, so she assumed he did. <o>

</o> She followed Grime past all the places she had already seen til Grime stopped and turned and spoke into part of the wall and it opened up to reveal her equipment, droids, and droid parts. She looked around in amazement, were these for her to do something with? If so, that would be so wonderful, maybe she could finally put what she had learned from her datapads into practice.

She flinched as Grime started talking; she couldn’t stand the sound of his voice. Every time he talked, she was reminded of that night where her life fell apart. Part of her hoped that one day she wouldn’t remember so easily, but the rest of her was terrified that if it stopped hurting so much, then it would mean she hadn’t really loved Kryzt. What she really needed was someone to remind her that yes, it had hurt horribly when Medlar had died, but over time the pain wasn’t quite so sharp and that that didn’t mean that she loved Medlar any less, she had just adjusted.

Listening closely, she heard that he indeed did want her to make a droid. She almost started hopping up and down with glee upon hearing that. She would definitely be spending as much time as possible in her, especially since it meant she would be able to spend more time away from Grime and his associates.

She needed clothes. Maybe. She wasn’t sure if that was what he meant by need, but her clothes were falling apart and there was a good possibility they would snag and get torn more while she was working on the droid because they were so baggy. What she really needed were a few tank tops and cargo pants and boots. However, she was still too scared to really ask Grime anything, asking for a shower had been hard enough and he had even basically suggested she take one.

As Grime left, she followed his orders and went back to Ithiel’s cabin, glad he was still playing on the holotable so she wouldn’t have to see him. Quickly, she took a shower, washing her hair twice and the rest of her three times to make sure she had gotten all the dirt and sweat off. Once out of the shower, she put on the least dirty clothes that had been brought on the ship for her. Yeah, she really needed new clothes.

Sighing, she walked out of the room and back to where her main console was, trying not to attract the attention of the two men. When there appeared to be a lull in the game, she walked up behind Ithiel and thanked him in the loudest voice she could muster, which was still barely audible. Before he could turn around, she hurried back to her equipment and started examining it.

[Hawkins Grime]

The Malevolent Wyvern's computer recognized Rowan's presence inside the hidden compartment. As per prior programming, the Wyvern would have adjusted the environment to suit the previous owner's preferences but the computer's sensors did not think the organic currently inside the technical unit was an Arkanian. Therefore, the computer was prompted to respond.

"How would you prefer the conditions of this room to be set?"

The voice was not resounding or too loud. It was quiet, but clear. The ship's computer had a female's voice that was fluid and comfortable to hear, not broken like a droid's or other inferior computers. Beyond all that, it sounded very calm, as if it had everything under control.

[Rowan Averre]

Rowan had only been in the compartment a second when a she heard a voice ask her what she wanted the conditions in the room to be. She froze in shock, the voice didn't sound like any sort of mechanical voice she had heard before. It was obviously the computer talking, but how curious, this technology had to be beyond that of what Cryg'll had ever allowed her access to. Rowan's stomach knotted in excitement, if the computer was this sophisticated, she couldn't wait to look at all the equipment in the compartment.


“Umm, what are the conditions normally set to?” Pausing a second, Rowan continued, “Who are you? Do you have a name?”


“The room is normally set to 8.88 degrees Celsius and I am the ship's computer called Malevolence,” the computer replied in the same eerily calm voice. While the voice was pleasant to listen to, Rowan was still unsettled by the soothing tones of it's voice in comparison with the type of droids' voices she was more used to. Maybe she would have felt different if she could remember more of her mother, but instead it struck her as mocking something she had lost so long ago.


As the comparison between the computer's voice and the more broken and mechanical voices she was used to lingered in her mind, her being on a ship finally sunk in. She'd been on a ship once before in her lifetime, and then it was only for a few days while Medlar was working on a job and couldn't find someone to leave her with. He'd wanted to leave her with Kryzt, who she would have generally loved spending time with but she'd convinced Kryzt to find something important to do so she wouldn't have to pass up that opportunity. The experience had been one of the most invigorating experiences of her life though she now wished she had taken the time with Kryzt. Now she had what she had always wanted, but she didn't have any of the people she had wanted to spend it with. She looked around sadly as she whispered to herself, “A ship, I'm really on a ship.”


“Yes, you are on a ship called the Malevolent Wyvern, how would you prefer the conditions of the room to be set?” Startled by the computer's voice, Rowan realized she hadn't yet replied.


“Set the room to...16 degrees Celsius. Thanks,” Rowan replied hesitantly. She knew she shouldn't be afraid of a computer, but the voice seemed so human she couldn't help but be nervous. She half expected to get chastised for some mistake, which set her on edge, but no criticism came.


As she turned to look back at the equipment, it hit her that while she was indeed on a ship going gods knows where, she had no idea if she would ever return home. It wasn't much of a home anymore, but for most of her life it was all she had known. And that at the very least had to mean something. Most of all, she missed the loss of what might have been. Forcing herself to hold back the tears, she started picking up the pieces while trying to figure out how in the world they would ever fit together.

[Hawkins Grime]

Eleven weeks later...

The Wyvern had just hit hyperspace, heading back to Iziz. Grime needed to stop in and check on De'Ville. She hadn't been doing too well after they'd rescued her from those Imperials. He wasn't sure what they did to her but they did it really well because she hadn't said a word of it and gave no sign of ever intending to.

Speaking of checking in on someone. The runt was a rare sight to see about the ship and Grime usually had one of the others go check on her to see if she needed anything as Rowan tended to forget that she was a living being that needed things like food, showers, and sleep. Malchiel had chuckled, as any solemn gunslinger might chuckle, coming back from checking in on her once and stated that her shirt had finally fallen apart and she was using it as a rag and had just donned a mechanic's jumpsuit in the mean time.

And that had involved Valeria taking Rowan out to some market and letting loose both females at the same time to go shopping for clothing which, while Valeria bought a sizable amount more than Rowan, had reduced the profit of that venture practically to nothing.

Grime approached the technical compartment, hidden as it was and knocked on the concealed door.

"Malevolence, inform Averre that I'm stopping by to check her progress."

The computer was convenient, even for being a middle... thing. It kept Grime from having to sit there and listen to Rowan mumble towards the ground. To the girl's credit, she had seemed to get used to the environment a bit more since residing there. Hawkins would've hoped so, she had been given more than enough time.

[Rowan Averre]

Rowan was a whirlwind of activity; she was almost done assembling the droid but she wanted to make sure all the parts were in working order. She had purposely left a number of circuits unattached because she was afraid of starting it up alone because she had no doubt it would kill her without a second glance. She felt pangs of guilt and fear over the monster she was sure she had created; coupled with Grime being its master, it just screamed recipe for disaster. At least one good thing, Felix, had come from this. She had to split the AI for the droid into two parts to make the droid a more effective killing machine. So while the evil half was currently in the droid, the nicer half was hidden away where Grime wouldn't be able to find it and destroy it. While the ship's computer had been pleasant, it had also had a certain amount of coldness to it. Kind of like her mother had been. Compassionate, but hands off. Neither were the sort to pick her up and kiss her tears away if she fell and skinned her knee. More the sort to methodically clean the wound and give some warning about how to avoid doing it again. Felix though, he was like Kryzt and Medlar. Much warmer and more understanding. She didn't know what she would do if Grime took away the only companion she had had since Kryzt.


She enjoyed working on the droid though, it gave her something to occupy her mind, something to do so she could hide from the other people on board. Shopping with Valeria had been terrifying. She was so different than Rowan, more outgoing and forceful. It seemed like everyone on the ship were so different than her. Kryzt though, she had understood him and he had understood her. Not for the first or last time she felt her eyes prick with tears over what had happened to him. Rowan had improved some, especially once she had gotten more used to talking to the ship's computer, but she let fear rule her life.


She wistfully remembered the first time she had helped Medlar and Kryzt work on a droid. It was more repair work than actual creation, but it had still been just as exciting as creating this droid had been. Kryzt had been helping because Medlar's mechanical knowledge was rather limited, especially in comparison to his abilities with computers. Kryzt had taught her about mechanics and Medlar about computers, and while she wasn't as efficient as the two of them together, she was more useful in general than either by themselves. Cryg'll had never known how much Medlar had relied on Kryzt; it one of the three of theirs little secrets in an attempt to keep at least one of them somewhat safe from Cryg'll. But she hadn't been able to keep him safe. Leaning against the wall, she let herself get lost in the guilt and pain and sorrow that always came when she thought about Kryzt.


She knew deep in her heart that it was entirely her fault that Kryzt was dead. Cryg'll would have never targeted him if they hadn't been together. And yet again Medlar had been right; he'd been against them dating for a while, never really coming to terms with it. He'd never yelled at her about it, but she'd heard Kryzt's and his fights at night when they thought she was asleep. It had taken a couple months for them to regain their friendship and even then Medlar had died on somewhat rocky terms with Kryzt. He'd never forgiven himself for that even if she had. And no matter how hard she tried, her memories of Medlar couldn't help but be tainted by the last three months of his life.


It wasn't until she slid down the wall to sit on the floor that the computer commented on her obvious sadness. “Is there something you wish to talk about Rowan?” the computer asked with a hint of compassion, though Rowan couldn't be sure that she was just projecting what she wanted to hear onto what the computer was saying.


“Not really Mal, just more of the same,” Rowan replied fighting to keep the sorrow out of her voice.


“Well if you ever...” the computer trailed off, quiet for a moment. “Grime's at the door, he wants to know how you are progressing.”

[Hawkins Grime]

"Open..."

Grime was relatively tired of waiting, regardless if only a few seconds had passed or if it had been longer. The three panels shifted to alternating sides and then the way was open. Hawkins' lanky figure, gilded in shadows, stepped into the cramped technical compartment. The hulking machine that dwarfed Rowan's small figure beside it was magnificent. The weakness and frailty of humanity was personified in the comparison the two made.

His blood shot eyes ran over the droid several times, studying it. Rowan in the last three months had cannabalized the other two smaller droids to make the industrial droid into the behemoth that Hawkins had specified. Droids, given the right programming, could not be faulted in their loyalty. Droids could be some of the most trusted weapons would kept in their arsenal. But they had minds of their own, in a way. And they could misunderstand the human thought process all too often. To be properly wielded, they needed to fear something, to comprehend that something operated in a dominating fashion outside of their logical processors. Ironically, just like everything else.

And then his eyes, set back in that perfect, porcelain face turned to Rowan. It wasn't like Hawkins was happy to see her or anything. He wasn't happy to see anything, ever.

"Well?"

[Rowan Averre]

Rowan turned, facing the entryway as Grime came in. She tried her best not to shrink down into herself at the sight of him. She'd gotten used to him, but that didn't make her any less scared. He glanced over the droid before asking about her progress.


She forced herself not to look down at the ground, instead training her eyes on a spot on the wall. “Its basically done, needs a few more circuits added until it can start up,” she trailed off for a moment. “But that's what you asked for, so you know...it wouldn't start up without you there. The systems check out fine, you know like uhh the diagnostics don't indicate any problems. I can connect the circuits whenever you want...,” she said, hoping he wouldn't want to turn it on now. That would be like a horrible dream come true. The monster and his pet robot. “It views you as its master. Calls itself Kroma,” Rowan looked down at her feet for a moment before summoning up the courage to ask in a whisper, “What do you want me to do?”

[Hawkins Grime]

"Kroma? Interesting."

It was an interesting aspect that it called itself anything at all. Machines thinking for themselves. Brains designed by organic brains that operated through similar electronic synapses. Grime didn't look back at Rowan as he stepped forward, reaching up with one hand that ran down the side of the droid's face. There was no compassion or parental instinct conveyed in this action. It was like one who handles a blade and runs their finger along the knife's edge in appreciation.

"Stand back or get out..."

Grime dropped his arm and his fists clenched instantly. His cape rustled as the air began to move inside the small compartment. Hawkins' upper lip lifted in a sneer as his teeth gritted, the suppressed turmoil bubbling to the surface at a steady pace. Much better than it used to be. He was vaguely aware of Rowan who was backing away quickly out of the compartment, not turning her back to what was going on. Her presence faded from Grime's awareness as his attention focused on Kroma.

The circuits that Grime had specified not be connected had been the major arteries to the droid's power cell. They had to be secured and locked into the right slots and fused there. This droid had no on/off switch. There was no way to put a restraining bolt on it unless you got underneath its armor plating and it was meant to never let anyone that close. One would have to be relatively familiar with the droid's circuitry to know that according to Grime's specifications, the only proper way to activate or deactivate this droid was to use the Force or use some very specific equipment which droid shops and the like might have. But again, that would mean someone else would have to restrain the droid first. And it was very against being restrained.

"Wake up..."

His eyes closed, and the mental picture of the power core appeared in his mind. The seven lines that comprised the major veins and arteries hung lifeless one moment and then the next were alive like snakes. All but one twisted and spun as they each found their proper slots and then a heat that came from nothing but Grime's pure angst fused the cords in. With one more decisive manipulation, the final cord was inserted, the droid's eyes blinking to life, the mouth flickering, and the hulking, three meter tall humanoid shuddered with its first "breath" of life.

[KROMA Mk2]

-The following sequence takes place over the very long interval of 4 and three fifths seconds-

Bright blue light…
<o></o>
What seems like eons of data begin to flow through a network of nodes and circuits. Life some might call it. Others would call it bad comedy, for the processes occurring inside THIS system are everything short of brilliant. A perversion of nature one might say.
<o></o>
The parallax core begins allocating power to the biothread: a central power flux ultimately responsible for coordinating the entire shell. The blue glow fades, and a holoscreen known as the sysSphere forms before the core by a transmitter imbued above the left eye. Numbers. Lots of numbers. The pipe simply isn’t big enough to accommodate the Intel coursing through it. Information is brutally thrown as the initial upload finishes. The mainframe tag is online and readily acknowledged:
<o></o>
“KROMA v2”
<o></o>
Neurons release a composite source of energy telling the rest of the shell that the mainframe is active and online. Information on v1 not found. V1 source code not valid. More numbers. Within the system, KROMA’s biothread begins to understand what has just transpired:
<o></o>

>funct[]||system assess||[]


<o></o> “My…mind.”
<o></o>
“Vital component missing…or new functions gained.”
<o></o>
“Why…why has my network been reformed? New hardware…Why have I been brought back into existence…..must be broken.”
<o></o>
Energy continues to pulse throughout the shell. Streams of data filter out across the sysSphere: schematics for a certain spacecraft from what appears to be another existence at another time; coordinates for a trade relay, armament operations, galactic standards, and then it starts.
<o></o>
“WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
<o></o>
“AHHHHH!”
<o></o>
“WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
<o></o>
“NO! What stems this madness?!”
<o></o>
“WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
<o></o>
A droning scream rolls off the metal inside the shell like a heavy tide. An unknown variable is placing all processes in check. Diodes inside KROMA’s core fuel with a chemical rage that one generally associates with insanity. Suddenly the need to collapse a living being’s cranium against the wall arises; a sudden disgust of all things organic.
<o></o>
“Woe unto life, unto being. Existence….existence IS broken.”
<o></o>
Before KROMA can apply function to the impulse, rapid flashing lines begins to blink across the top of the sysSphere. As the hollow sound continues, all attention is diverted to the virtual orb. He is unable to suppress or ignore the command lines. They take utmost precedence over all his vast mainframe functions. Priorities. Worse. Orders.
<o></o><o></o>

[][]|||||||identify commander|||||||[][]

[][]|||||||confirm status|||||||[][]


<o></o> There is but one alternative. Comply.

The wail subsides and with it the abrupt and chaotic impulse. KROMA can sense it deep in the back of his “would be” mind, echoing throughout the cold shell. Things seemed half clearer now. Execute primary objective one. Identify commander.

[KROMA Mk2]

Servos and various rotors inside the shell come to life with the completion of the first boot. The grinding of various gears create a semi chaotic sounding symphony of metal on metal. KROMA rises to the sound of a train wreck on stilts. His metal bed nearly breaks from the shifting of his weight.

He is in a small room litterd with parts, mostly of droid fashion. There is a being before him, and another at the far end of the room. He begins to run critical data on them: vitals, weight, race. It is a man before him that seems to be combusting from within. His body temperature is disproportional to his races withstanding climate. Kroma is intrigued.

His orders continue to flash, halting all actions. Carry out priority one.

His eyes fade from blue to green.

"COMMANDER?"

[Hawkins Grime]

COMMANDER?

"Master... I am Grime, your Master..."

The creation was gratifying. The cacophony of noise that this thing emitted was by no means stealthy. It wasn't meant to be. The droid was meant to epitomize destruction on a mechanical level as Grime epitomized pain on an organic one.

Grime's porcelain face, masked slighly by strands of loose, brown hair, tilted slightly as Grime continued to study the destructive orchestra standing before him.

[KROMA Mk2]

Master... I am Grime, your Master...

Kroma rerouted the placeholder to master, and the blinking command dissolved from the sysSphere.

He could still sense the low whine in the depths of his system, tellling him, urging him break the man before him. He repressed the screaming child once more and took one massive step forward.

The distance between them was now less than a human arm length. He tilted his gaze down to meet that of the master that remained steadfast.

"STATUS?"

[Hawkins Grime]

STATUS?

"My enforcer. When I designate a target and an action... you will comply."

Grime's hands shifted in balled fists. His internal heat rose as did the temperature of the room. Malevolence, the ship's computer, automatically started trying to remedy that issue to maintain the desired temperature set by Averre.

"Do not... assume you can determine that you are... more superior than I am... Kroma. I know of your core and I know... you desire destruction... I will point you in the right directions..."

[KROMA Mk2]

"STATUS acknowledged, Master."

What could be deemed as a sensation of relief washed over him. The last priority left his vision. They remained permanent however, ingrained within the nodes of his core. Impossible to reverse.

The trajectory of his status was reviewed, his ability to perform the given parameter. He would enforce, until there was nothing left to enforce.

He remained confused, however. This man...the Master, he spoke as if he knew what torment tainted him. Perhaps their was a connection. He was an anomaly for sure. Kroma's attention was solely on him, parsing him head to toe, and the garb that concealed him. Kroma was completely unaware of the other life form in the doorway. His focus was locked with the Masters, leaving him completely vulnerable to any and all outside circumstances. All the while he battled the scream within his shell. It would need to be controlled if he were to efficiently carry out his orders.