Author's Note: I'm back today with AU Archery (a story of at least 100 words set in an alternate universe with your character, family, friendship, or couple), and while this entire collection takes place in an AU, I think this piece really highlights the alternate nature of this reality. We're a bit removed from the Skywalker/Solo family in this one, but I couldn't resist the urge to visit these characters in this setting…
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The Droid
72 years post-RotS (53 ABY)
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There was nothing particularly remarkable about the shop. It was one in a long, dreary line of synstone store fronts, its only truly distinguishing feature being the collection of wind chimes dangling from an awning over the doorway, each of them seemingly crafted from rusted metal scraps and recycled droid parts. The man standing under the awning observed these chimes silently before stepping through the doorway.
He was human and young, with dark hair and a keen gaze. His worn black traveler's cloak and the unassuming gray attire beneath it indicated he was likely a tradesman, or perhaps one of the laborers that came in on the big freighters; either way, it was clear he possessed little in the way of worldly wealth. No one was present to greet him as he entered the store, and he ambled past a few rows of old but neatly arranged droids before coming to another doorway, separated from the front of the store by a partition of wooden beads that hung nearly to the floor. A small sign to the left of the door read:
As-Is Merchandise
No Refunds
The young man swept aside the beads and stepped into the back room; the droids and parts in here were arranged in a more haphazard manner, with metal limbs dangling from wire shelves, and ancient, rusted droid models standing hunched over, as if bent with age. He approached one such model, a tall, bipedal droid with a solidly-built chassis and a face that resembled a somewhat rounded, inverted trapezoid. As he leaned in to get a closer look, the droid's optical sensors flickered with amber light, and it straightened itself to full height and swiveled its head toward his.
"Greeting: Hello, prospective purchaser! Welcome to Gizmo's Droid Emporium, your one-stop shop for any and all fine droids, droid parts, and droid repairs!" The voice was male and excessively exuberant, with a hint of a Coruscanti accent. "If you are in need of a droid, might I offer my services?"
The young man gave an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, I'm not actually looking to buy a droid."
"Statement: Oh, but I could be of great use to a young meatbag such as yourself! I am versed in all manner of languages and customs, far more than your typical protocol droid."
The man paused, taking mental note of the droid's weirdly subservient-yet-condescending tone. He raised one eyebrow and met the droid's amber stare. "Meatbag?"
The droid raised swept both arms wide in a conciliatory gesture. "Clarification: Please do not take offense, kind sir. 'Meatbag' is merely a categorical term. Should you purchase me, my programming dictates that I refer to you as 'Master,' as you would most certainly deserve to be addressed."
He couldn't help smiling at the droid's backhanded compliment. He wondered if—
"Dorian! Come on, let's go."
The young man looked over his shoulder to see his twin brother holding back the beaded partition. "Yeah, be right there."
Veeran ducked under the doorframe and let the strands of beads fall behind him. "What are you looking at?"
"I was just talking to… what did you say your name was?"
"Answer: I would love nothing more than to provide you with an answer to your query, most esteemed customer, but I am afraid I cannot divulge my designation prior to purchase."
Veeran stared at the droid for a very long moment. "Well that doesn't sound shady at all." He waved toward the front of the shop. "Come on, Dorian, Master Halcyon is waiting—"
"Exclamation: Ah! Another prospective purchaser! Perhaps the taller meatbag is in need of a protocol droid? I am programmed with practical knowledge of a wide array of customs, and I could be of particular use to one whose manners lack… refinement."
Veeran stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at the droid, eyes narrowed. "Did that droid just insult me?"
Dorian bit back a grin. "Kinda seems like it."
"Listen, you piece of scrap—"
"Statement: I do enjoy being treated so dismissively, prospective purchaser. If this is indicative of your usual pattern of behavior, I think we will get along quite well."
That brought his brother up short. Veeran looked between Dorian and the droid, startled. "What?"
Dorian was starting to think there was more to this droid than met the eye. "You sure you're a protocol droid?" he asked.
Veeran cast a scathing glance his way. "Of course he's not a protocol droid, look at him. Probably some kind of combat model—"
"Or an assassin droid."
The brothers stopped and stared at each other, then at the droid, who was looking back and forth between the both of them.
"Query," the droid said, after the silence had extended an almost ridiculous length of time. "If I were to possess directives including, but not limited to, the efficient eradication of specific and assigned sentient targets, would that make you more or less likely to purchase me?"
"What the hell?" Veeran said, taking a small step back.
"Whoa," Dorian said, following suit. The droid reached out its arms as if to embrace them both.
"Supplication: Please save me from this garbage heap, fragile meatbags, I implore you—"
And just as quickly as the droid had flickered to life, so it deactivated, its servos whirring quietly as the amber glow of its sensors vanished.
"Sorry!" a gruff, friendly voice called out from behind them. Dorian and his brother turned swiftly to see a portly older man with a bushy brown beard enter the back room. He was holding a small black device in his hand. "Sorry, that droid's always been a little… eccentric. Restraining bolt was acting up, but he'll be nice and quiet now. You boys need anything?"
The twins exchanged another silent, significant look. Veeran shook his head. "Uhh, nope."
"No, we're good, thanks."
As they quickly left the shop, Dorian couldn't help thinking of the droid's mournful final plea…
"Don't you even think about it," Veeran growled, cutting off that thought. "We are not bringing an assassin droid back to the temple."
"Yeah," Dorian conceded, "that probably wouldn't end well." He glanced over his shoulder at the synstone building one last time. "It's too bad; I never did get his name."
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