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Forums > Senate Hall archive > SH Archive/HK-47 and Revan Dialog


Sorry. Here is more. Karohalva 21:37, 20 February 2007 (UTC)


HK-47 Statement: I cannot be of assistance on that, master.

Statement: I have little knowledge of that to impart, master.

Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve, master.

As you desire, master. Signing off.

Statement: Certainly, master. Allow me to input the proper sequences into the ship computer. I caution you that the simulation will appear quite real.

Are you ready to begin the training sequence, master?

Statement: Simulation initiating.

Affirmative: If you believe your skills are up to the task, master, then I can certainly guide you through the process.

Request: I only ask that you be oh so very careful, master. I am too valuable and well-crafted to perish at the hands of ineptitude.

As you desire, master. I cannot help but claim a small amount of relief. Signing off.

[Repair] Statement: As you wish, master. You are already familiar with accessing my central control cluster, correct? Now you will need to...

[Repair] Statement: As you wish, master. The first stage is the simple one, and that is accessing my central control cluster. This may take awhile. First you will need to open three panels...

[Failure] ...now close the last panel. Hmmm... I am afraid the operation did not succeed, master, though it was a valiant attempt for a meatbag.

Supplication: Perhaps it would be best if you desisted your efforts for the moment, meatb-- I mean master. This seems to be going nowhere.

[Failure] ...but I *need* those circuits, master. Please, master... do not destroy my chips out of frustration. Calm yourself, I implore you.

[Failure] ...aahhhh! What are you doing?! Remove the arc wrench, remove the arc wrench! Medic!

[Failure] ...no, no, no. This is no good, master. You have nearly detonated my thermal core three times in a matter of minutes.

[Failure] ...no, that is not it, master. No... that is not it, either. *sigh* That is a hinge, master.

[Failure] ...err, you've shorted out something, master, but it has nothing to do with my memory. Ow! I am poking my own eye sockets! Ow! Stop!

[Failure] ...no, no! What are you doing, master! That is my motor core! Stop! Ahhhh!

[Success] ...and now re-wire the last three relays... yes, good. Well done, master. I believe your operation was a success. Accessing new memory...

Access complete: I have recovered the last of my deleted memory, master. Unfortunately, my history is still not complete.

Answer: As I did inform you, master, the majority of my memory is still locked within my core. That can only be accessed by the appropriate stimuli.

And I have no idea what that stimuli might be, unfortunately. Sadly, it seems my true origins will always be a mystery.

Correction: That would actually be my first owner, master. The first I can remember.

I had completed an assassination in Mandalorian space... though I have no knowledge of what my target was or who sent me.

Regardless, my motor function had been damaged and I could not return to wherever I had been sent from. A Mandalorian soldier claimed me as 'booty', I believe.

He repaired me... poorly, I might add... and proceeded to use my assassination protocol to raise his rank.

Observation: *You* found me, master. Perhaps you are simply fortunate that my assassination protocol no longer functions?

At any rate, it seems that my Mandalorian owner finally decided to send me against Mandalore, himself. My poorest performance, sadly.

Answer: I was captured by this Mandalore during the attempt. He was able to reverse my programming and send me after my own master.

It was quite distressing. There was little I could do. Needless to say, I dispatched the Mandalorian soldier efficiently.

Once I deactivated, I believe I eventually ended up on the black market and was sold to the Hutt on Sleheyron. *sigh* My darkest day.

Statement: With all due respect, master, he *is* the leader of the Mandalorians. Perhaps my old master was foolish to send me after him.

Objection: That is so unfair, master! Have I not brought you a great deal of satisfaction?

Statement: You are a very harsh master, master. I like you.

Statement: So I did. I am not very proud of that, master. The soldier seemed very startled, I must say.

Answer: There are a few Mandalorian implants that I can activate, now. They will improve my performance.

Beyond that, master, there is nothing more I can relate to you. With luck, we will discover the stimulus to unlock my core very soon.

Answer: Such knowledge is locked within my core, master, as I said. There is no way to withdraw it otherwise.

Query: Do you not have enemies that you would desire eliminated, master? If my protocol still worked, would you not use it?

Statement: See? I provide a function that is useful to others. They merely must learn to use it properly, I believe.

Statement: If you say so, master.

Query: Wouldn't you be, master? Here I am, surrounded by all these meatbags and all I desire is true perfection.

Surely there are more droids like me out there, or is that too much to hope?

Objection: Oh, fine. Laugh at me, master. Humiliate your pet droid, go ahead.

Observation: If it was, master, your restorations will certainly have ensured that the proper stimulus restores my core's functions.

Sadly, that could have already happened and we missed it, and my core was too damaged to activate. Oh, woe is me.

Access complete: I have accessed information on my owner prior to the senator, master. Most... unexpected.

Answer: It appears that previous to my ownership by the senator, I was the property of one Bochaba the Hutt on the planet Sleheyron.

Answer: It does not appear so. Or, at least, Bochaba was not my first owner. He purchased me from somewhere else.

Hmm. My memories tell me that, for a time, Bochaba was one of the most feared gangsters on Sleheyron. I helped him with this reputation greatly.

Over a span of one year, I terminated a grand total of 322 sentient meatbags. These contracts made Bochoba very wealthy.

Statement: Should I, master? I had no reason to terminate those targets, it was not my decision. I am the weapon, not the wielder.

Answer: That is correct, master. I do enjoy my work, though my past owners have enjoyed utilizing my functions far more.

Strictly speaking, one meatbag is the same as another. Anything I do is in support of my master.

It was unfortunate but inevitable that eventually Bochaba would overstep his bounds. I had just cleared two Hutt households when the Exchange retaliated.

Statement: I was not even present when my old master was assassinated. I did appreciate the artistry behind his demise upon my return, however.

Observation: Indeed. Perhaps it is better that my assassination function is inoperable, master, yes?

I am like a veritable fable, warning against the karma caused by murdering others. A morality tale, if you will. What utter irony.

At any rate, I quickly shut down upon my master's death. The rival Hutt claimed me along with my master's other possessions.

Observation: If that Hutt had only known my true function, he surely would not have sold me to a senator he bribed regularly.

Supplication: Please, master, have I not pleased you? I cannot control the acts I have performed... perhaps that is why memory is erased?

At any rate, I act only as you instruct me... even if that means being... *gulp* ...non-violent.

Affirmation: HK-47 exists only to serve, master.

Observation: No doubt, master. It would have been a glorious battle to end my existence with. I would prefer that to rusting on a junk heap.

Observation: It would have suited my character, master. I have enjoyed my existence since, more or less, so I do not miss it.

Answer: Negative, master. There is still more memory that can be restored, however, if you wish to try.

As well, I believe I can restore several programs the Hutt installed to improve my performance. Yesss... they are now active.

Contemplative: I wonder how many more dead masters I might have out there. A droid can live for a long time, you know.

Observation: According to your own meatbag values, was my master not a heartless gangster and murderer? I will mourn you when you perish, master.

Amendment: *If* you perish. So far I am three out of three, remember, through little fault of my own.

Answer: Allow me to say that I have little doubt that residents of that sector were fishing pieces of Bochaba out of their soup for weeks afterward.

Statement: So it appears, master. A rather suitable occupation, would you not agree?

Objection: That is unfair, master. While Bochaba may have died gruesomely, I most certainly had nothing to do with it. Well... very little.

Access complete: I have recovered information on my owner previous to the commercial officer, master. Intriguing.

Statement: It appears that my previous owner was a human senator on the planet Coruscant. A man of importance who obviously appreciated quality craftsmanship.

Observation: It does seem that way, does it not? I can still remember all the glittering lights of Coruscant. Very pretty. Can we go back there, master?

I do remember that I was very pleased to be the property of a senator. One of his assistants discovered my assassination functions later through questioning.

The assistant was quite alarmed and told the senator I should be scrapped quickly to avoid a scandal. Naturally the senator had me eliminate the fool.

Answer: Unfortunately so, master. While he lived, however, I maintained a most useful existence.

I was most proud to have partaken in the political system of the galaxy. During the time my owner possessed me, he gained significant rank.

Given time, I believe he could have become Chancellor. I even eliminated a few key opponents that he did not ask for... freebies, if you will.

Answer: There are a *lot* of politicians on Coruscant, master. I could spend decades slaughtering them and still not make a dent.

And it is not as if I walked into the Senate chambers with a carbonite explosive. I was very discrete. My best work to date... that I can remember.

Answer: Certainly. Why not? I am an intelligent droid, you know. I see an opportunity and I take it... and my master was most pleased with my work.

Observation: I think he would have done far better had he not allowed his use of me to become personal. He set me on his wife.

Answer: I am unsure. The human was most agitated and angry. I believe his wife had done something that had displeased him greatly.

I was to go to their summer estate and terminate his wife... along with whatever male companion I discovered there.

I journeyed to the southern continent, but it appeared my master was not far behind me. Apparently he regretted his activation of the protocol.

When I found the wife and her companion, I proceeded to launch my attack... but my master interposed his own body and was destroyed.

It was rather a strange meatbag thing to do, do you not agree? Naturally I shut myself down, my master being terminated.

Observation: I find that unlikely. Perhaps he was more concerned that the death of his wife would be more likely traced back to him.

Statement: I believe the senator's wife was unsure what I was or what to do with me. It was she who sold me to the corporate officer, an acquaintance.

Observation: Only so far, master. There are still more memories not recovered, remember?

Answer: As previously, I have found a few more programs which will enhance my performance. A most gratifying discovery, in fact.

There is still nothing from previous memories uncovered. You will have to operate again if you desire to find them.

With luck, I will discover the stimulus to unlock my core and all this will be unnecessary. I do thank you for the attempt, however, master.

Observation: I *am* a droid, master, with programming. Even if I did not enjoy killing, I would have no choice. Thankfully I enjoy it very much.

Statement: I have no idea, master. Cheating seems to be a relevant term only when one is caught in the act. Otherwise it is viewed as intelligence, no?

Observation: I rather liked the human, myself. For a meatbag, his priorities were in the right place. I felt most useful.

Observation: Senators are not nice, master. They are either on top of the game or yesterday's news. My master told me that frequently, you see.

Answer: It does not seem so, master, no. He required a protocol droid only and wanted one as cheaply as possible. I do not know who sold me to him.

Answer: I am unsure, master. Any knowledge of my owner prior to him is still deleted. The senator did assume I was a protocol droid, however.

Access complete: I have restored a great deal of information about my previous owner, master. Would you like to hear it?

Recitation: The earliest memory of my last owner specifies that he was human, a low-ranking commercial officer for Systech Corporation.

I am unaware of his designation. He puchased me from an acquaintance I cannot identify, for the purposes of protocol and bodyguard duties.

Explanation: Affirmative, master. I had assumed that my previous owner was the corporation, itself. This is not the case. The human purchased me privately.

Observation: Not that I could perceive, master. The human believed that accompaniment by a bodyguard droid would increase his importance in the perception of others.

Explanation: That previous owner is part of memories that are still deleted, master. It is customary for a droid's memory to be wiped when it is sold.

Answer: Negative, master. The human was terminated by this HK-47 unit prior to system shut-down.

Explanation: My former master had owned me for a duration of two standard months before discovering my assassination protocol. He was pleased by the discovery.

The human informed me that a competitor corporation was preparing to market a product that would ruin him personally. He was most agitated.

He activated my assassination protocol and instructed me to kill all those responsible for the competing product. I proceeded to carry out my order.

My former master was unaware of this, but the competitor was in fact an arm of Systech Corporation, my master's own employer.

It did not take long for my master to realize his mistake. By then, I had already terminated 104 corporate officers.

Statement: It was nothing, really, master. The majority of them were not even expecting it, and I move very quickly.

I do not know why my master was so upset, really. He was an officer of Systech and a potential target, but I cannot terminate my own master.

I would assume that being the sole officer remaining, he would surely be promoted. Instead, however, the human chose to go insane with rage and attack me.

Objection: Naturally not, master! As I said, I am incapable of purposefully terminating my owner. That would not be allowed.

My master was not a smart man, however. While he was screaming and stabbing me with a writing utensil, he managed to pierce one of my actuators.

The resulting shock terminated him and, sadly, destroyed my assassination protocol. Pure luck on his part, I suspect.

Statement: I was only doing as I was told, master. I would have told the human the proper codes to deactivate my protocol, had he asked.

I shut down immediately whenever my master dies. I can only assume that while I was shut down Systech was dismantled and I was auctioned off as former corporate property.

Observation: No doubt my sale price was quite cheap, leading to Yuka Laka's purchase. How very demeaning.

Assessment: I do not believe so, master. It would require complete dismantlement of my chassis... a most involved procedure.

Observation: So am I, master, though I apologize for not having an assassination mode to offer you.

Statement: That hurts, master. This is my life you are talking about.

Statement: How could they? The vast majority of the officers had already been terminated. They likely assumed I was mere... chattel.

I have recovered knowledge of some other actuators which will enhance my performance, master. I will activate them now.

But as for my own history... negative. It will require further effort on your part to restore them, if you wish... though certain stimuli could always restore my core, still, as I explained.

For now, please excuse me, master. I wish to meditate upon the face of my former meatbag master as he was electrocuted. I find it most soothing.

Observation: Effectively, yes. This is a most pleasing memory, master. Thank you for recovering it.

Query: Do you know what the chances are of puncturing that sole actuator? I would have congratulated my master were he not sizzling and incoherent at the time.

Answer: I was not present to be deactivated, master. Part of my protocol is not to return to my master until my function is complete. I still had 15 officers to go.

Observation: While it may have been unintentional, my master's wording of his orders left little room for me. Systech was responsible for the product, after all.

Information: This HK-47 unit is complete with a protocol that, when invoked, will set me to independently carry out a termination.

I will go to whatever lengths, travel whatever distances are required, to complete the termination. This is the reason for my combat skills.

Advisement: Unfortunately, the assassination protocol is currently non-functional. You will not be able to activate it.

Answer: several of my actuators were damaged by my former owner. They cannot be repaired, master, sad though that is.

Affirmative, master, though I had not been programmed to do so. The human's termination was accidental.

Negatory: Err... no, master. You are not a droid, however, and therefore your skills *are* limited by the physical capabilities of your meatbag extremities. Or somesuch.

Appeasement: Yes, master. Of course, master. Could we begin?

Negatory: I believe that there are no further deleted memories which can be safely retrieved, master. All earlier memories reside in my core.

Those are protected by my safeguards and would be far too dangerous to access.

The only way those memories could be obtained is through the proper stimulus... whatever that might be. I am sorry, master.

Commentary: That is unnecessary now, master. I have been returned to you and my memory core is now fully functional.

Statement: Yes, master. You created me shortly after you and your apprentice began your war to conquer the galaxy.

I was sent on an assassination mission into Mandalorian space, but I was damaged and unable to return to you.

Exclamation: I find this most distressing. I could certainly have protected you from the Jedi and your pupil's betrayal had I returned.

Statement: Of course, master. You are the one who created me, meatbag or no... and while you may not be all you once were, I am grateful for my existence.

Answer: It was you who programmed me thus, master.

Your pupil once asked what I thought of him and I informed him of his meatbag status. He was unimpressed, but you found the reference humorous.

You changed my programming so that I would continue to use the term. It drove your pupil to extreme lengths of frustration.

Observation: Of course you do, master. You did then, as well.

Commentary: Your former pupil is efficient and brutal, even for an organic. I rather liked him when you first introduced me to him.

If I had known what he would do to you, master, I would have gladly removed his entrails right then!

Answer: No, master. You never did make me privy to any of the Star Forge's secrets.

Observation: You are different in many fundamental ways, master. You have a concern for life that is unsettling.

This cannot solely be caused by memory loss. I do not know how to explain it. Regardless, you do seem to be improved, overall, from the human I once knew.

Observation: In many ways you are, master, yes. You have much of the beloved cruelty of the master I knew.

You seem to have forgotten much, but in some ways you seem improved from the human I once knew. It is... difficult to explain, master.

Objection: But I would have tried, master! I could have killed the Jedi, Bastila, I am sure of it. That would have been most fun.

Observation: Now that is the master I remember.

Retraction: I apologize, master. It is a force of habit.

Observation: You may be right, master. This way we are reunited, and neither of us has suffered permanent termination.

Query: Don't I? I was under the assumption that organic meatbags such as yourself enjoyed such forms of address.

Qualification: You *are* my master, master. Did you not purchase me legitimately? Am I stolen goods? Shall I report myself to the authorities?

Explanation: If I was to be stolen somehow, I would be forced to turn myself into sector authorities. This programming was added to my system months ago.

Explanation: Then you qualify as my master and I must refer to you as such. The legal requirements for models of my type are very specific, master.

Answer: Simply that the distinction between 'killer' and 'killee' be a clear one. I cannot kill of my own volition, naturally.

Answer: Certainly not, master! You may not value your own existence, but I certainly do! They melt down droids that belong to criminals, you know.

Answer: Why you are, master. I thought that was obvious.

Commentary: A blaster is such a primitive comparison... but essentially you have it correct, yes.

Expletive: Damn it, master, I am an assassination droid... not a dictionary!

Evasion: Oh... the illegal kind of model, master... you know...

Answer: More than there are for legal models, apparently. That is meatbag logic for you.

Query: Would you rather be caught with contraband that is *very* illegal or just a little illegal?

Answer: About 20 years, master.

Agreement: This was my thought as well, master. You show excellent logical skills... for a meatbag.

Apology: Sorry, master. My optical sensors simply pick up all the water sloshing about inside your flesh coating. It is... unpleasant.

Commentary: Organic meatbags have such delicate staminas. Perhaps you should consider some cybernetic implants, master.

Apology: I am afraid I cannot comply with your command, master, as much as I would like to.

Commentary: How would you like to be the wholly-owned servant to an organic meatbag. It's demeaning! If, uh, you weren't one yourself, I mean...

Qualification: Err... perhaps I did not mean it *quite* like that, master. I mean... while an artificial life-form is superior...

Commentary: Yes, master. Did I ever tell you how much I enjoy killing for you, master?

Commentary: I mean... nice human, goo-oood human...

Explanation: Someone has hard-coded it into my system that my current master always be addressed as such.

Objection: I would not advise that, master. There are safeguards present that... well, it should suffice to say that my systems have been altered plenty already.

Answer: electrical protection systems, mostly. They are at lethal levels, however, master... only the best for your droid.

Answer: Considerably. Several of my systems do not match their imbedded parameters. I have no memory of such alterations, however, or their purpose.

Conjecture: I do not know... some organic meatbag?

Observation: I can hardly be blamed for my programming, master. Do not worry... I am still well-capable of killing most anything for you.

Commentary: That is a very clever turn of phrase, master. Your brain is very un-meatbag-like.

Answer: No, master. My past memory has been almost completely erased prior to your purchase of me.

Observation: At certain times, power re-routing forces some memory circuits to fire that were previously deleted. I cannot control this process, however.

Answer: Because there has been considerable tampering with my systems, master.

Statement: I will endeavour to do so, master.

Retraction: Did I say that out loud? I apologize, master. While you are a meatbag, I suppose I should not call you such.

Amendment: Then I will endeavour not to refer to you by your meatbag status in the future, master. Does that suffice?

Query: I am confused. 'No' you do wish to be referred to as meatbag or 'no' it does not suffice?

Answer: Deliberation implies some form of intent, master, when I am only stating a fact. Perhaps you would prefer the term liquidious fleshbag?

Objection: But... but that technical term does not accurately portray the vast amount of bulbous slushiness present in your bipedal form!

Resignation: You have no idea, master. No idea at all. Can we please go and shoot something now?

Resignation: *sigh* Very well, master. You are a harsh, harsh taskmaster. I like you more already.

Observation: Well, the only other possibility is to alter your meatbag status. Are you up for an array of cybernetic implants, perhaps?

Statement: Then there is nothing I can do, master. You have my abject apologies for your condition. *sigh*

Objection: But Master! Am I not far too useful to be thrown aside in such a casual manner? Can I be faulted for my perfect artificial construction?

Analysis: Reference: 'lippy'... argumentative, disputatious, contentious, quarrelsome. What?! I must object, master, this is untrue!

Explanation: It's my combative nature, master. I cannot help myself. I'll make it up to you... allow me to kill something in your honor!

Observation: Neither are you, master. For an organic meatbag.

Correction: Err... fluid-filled biped? Watery flesh-sentient? I'll, uh, work on it, master...

Answer: Even a droid has to be allowed a little fun once in a while, master.

Explanation: It's just that... you have all these squishy parts, master. And all that water! How the constant sloshing doesn't drive you mad, I have no idea...

Observation: Organics have no sense of persistence.

Err... ignore that, master. Obeying original command. Signing off.

Objection: Surely not, master. I am programmed to perform all kinds of psychological assistance. Do you require some?

Statement: Now do you understand the travails of my existence, master? Surely it does not compare to your existence, but still...

Commentary: As do I. It is our lot in life, I suppose, master. Shall we find something to kill to cheer ourselves up?

Commentary: Of course I do, master. You are Revan... you are my master, the one who created me. I exist to serve.

Statement: I know some elements of my functionality, master, but not all.

Answer: I believe I have been damaged several times in the past, master. I have always been repaired... but perhaps full functionality has not been restored.

Answer: Some of my motor functions can be safely repaired, master... but anything in relation to my memory core is extremely sensitive.

I have safeguards installed to protect that core that I cannot de-activate. It is not impossible that other, lesser, memory functions could be restored, however.

Answer: You may attempt to restore portions of my deleted memory, master, but some skill at repair is required.

The deeper functions of my core memory, however, would still be unadvisable to tamper with.

Conjecture: It is possible that some external stimulus might result in the memory core being reactivated... but I am unaware of any program existence to do so.

Answer: Simply tell me that you wish to make the attempt, master, and I will attempt to walk you through it. Please do be careful.

Conjecture: There may be hidden programming that awaits certain conditions to reactivate my memory core, master... but there is no way to know.

It is quite possible that tampering has simply erased my core permanently. If that is so, a meatbag will surely pay!

Observation: I am sure that you are aware of the majority of my skills, master. I can handle various sorts of heavy weaponry with ease.

My physical abilities are well-above those of your average meatbag, as are my sensor functions... an assassin if you would.

Answer: I have internal replication systems that can produce a small quantity of explosive material... enough for a small grenade, if you wish.

It would take time for me to replicate enough material for each grenade, but you have only to ask, master.

Caution: Shhhh, master! Such a function in a droid is highly illegal.

Commentary: Good, for I would truly hate to be turned into spare scrap, master. That would be a waste of my genius engineering.

Answer: My assassination functions are currently non-functional, having been de-activated by the meatbag Yuka Laka on Tatooine.

Were they functional, you as my master would be able to specify a target and I would operate independently to the best of my ability to terminate it.

Observation: If you say so, master. I imagine it was truly a work of art to see me in action, however.

Answer: I have no way of knowing that, master. My memory has been deleted, remember?

Answer: Not that I know of, master. I still possess all my normal combat and stealth abilities, however.

Answer: There have been numerous repairs and tampering made to my system, master. Several systems are not operating as they should be.

The fact that my memory is incomplete may be due to meatbag incompetence... or something else I am unaware of.

Qualification: I suspected that it might, master. But without memory, I had no way of knowing whether or not I knew that was true.

Qualification: Err... not so much, master. I spoke out of ignorance. I assumed the Ithorian was responsible for my memory loss.

That does not mean I am not a fully loyal droid willing to serve its master. Right... master?

Statement: My functionality has now been fully restored, master. I exist to serve Revan as your personal battle droid.

In time, my assassination protocol can be restored... and at that point I will once again endeavour to eliminate any meatbag opposition you may have.

As you desire, master.

As you desire, master.

REVAN That will be all, HK-47.

I want to begin a fighter simulation.

No, forget it.

Go ahead.

I would like to try restoring some of your memory.

I'll try later.

Let's get started.

Very well. We'll do this later.

I want to try again.

What? Why not?

So tell me about this last owner, then.

Does nobody decent ever find you?

Oh? Why is that?

So you couldn't kill Mandalore, hey?

You are just a traveling piece of bad luck, aren't you?

You don't want to hear the answer to that.

So you killed *that* master directly.

So can you remember anything else?

So there is no way to find out who sent you there originally?

It appears no-one could resist using your protocol.

I suppose I would, at that.

That's different.

No, of course not.

You are eager to find your origins, are you?

Well...

Are you sure your core isn't just damaged?

What now?

That makes sense. Did the Hutts build you?

Don't you care about all those lives lost?

But you *have* killed on your own accord before.

You sound proud of that carnage.

And so what happened to stop that?

So another master gone because of you.

No doubt.

I should dismantle you!

How very self-sacrificing of you.

You would have been found out eventually.

You would have preferred to stay on Sleheyron?

Do you remember anything else?

That's terrible. You don't even mourn your master?

When I perish?

Why? How was he killed?

So you were a gangster's assassin droid?

And what gruesome fate awaited him?

What's so intriguing?

It seems you've been around, HK.

I hope this man is dead, right?

And nobody figured out what he was up to?

So he just killed all his opponents?

You can do that?

And why would he do that?

And did you?

Well, it appeared he got a conscience at the end.

What happened to you then?

So that's two out of two masters killed.

Have you recovered any other memories?

So you just kill anyone you're told?

So his wife was cheating on him.

Sounds like my kind of guy.

So we're not talking about a nice senator, I see.

Did this senator know about your assassination function?

And how did he get ahold of you?

Yes, let me hear it.

You mentioned this Systech Corporation when I purchased you.

This man needed a bodyguard?

Why can't you identify his acquaintance?

This man... is he still alive?

Why? What happened?

And how did that result in his death?

You killed 104 people?!

And that's when you killed him?

Well, it *was* his own fault.

Are you sure this actuator can't be fixed?

I'm just glad I acquired you myself.

What a horrible story!

Didn't they know what you had done?

Did you recover any other memories?

So you destroyed his life and then killed him, basically.

I don't think he was as lucky as you think.

Why didn't he just deactivate you?

So he set you upon his own company?

Wait... tell me about this assassination protocol.

Why not?

You killed your own master?

Are you implying I am inept?

I happen to be very good at what I do.

So... you belonged to Revan originally?

You find it distressing?

So... why the 'meatbag' references?

So... Malak was the original meatbag? I like that idea.

What can you tell me of Malak?

Do you know anything about the Star Forge?

Am I very much like the Revan you knew?

I doubt you could have done anything.

Hmm... maybe a little.

Don't talk about Bastila like that!

It's probably better it worked out this way.

You don't need to call me master, you know.

But I'm *not* your master.

What difference does that make?

I see. I did purchase you, if you'll remember...

Can that programming be removed?

Who added that to your system?

If I'm your master, you should listen to my orders.

Whoa, slow down there. Yes, I did purchase you...

What legal requirements do you mean?

And I can't ask you to break the law?

So just who is the master here, then?

So... you're a blaster but I'm pulling the trigger?

I don't think 'killee' is a word.

Models of your type? What type is that?

There are legal requirements for illegal models?

But... how can an illegal model be regulated?

What's the difference?

Why all the fuss over you calling me master?

Maybe we'll just keep you a little illegal, then.

Stop saying meatbag, already!

That's an image I did not need.

Well I don't, so stop it.

As much as you would like to? What does that mean?

Demeaning, is it?

Just... stop talking.

You're not making it any better.

You're not my servant!

Why can't you comply with my command?

Why not?

Well, maybe I can fix that.

What sorts of safeguards?

Your systems have been tampered with?

Who did that?

Fine, forget it, then.

I can live with that.

Oh, goody.

You don't know?

Almost completely?

Why not?

Fine, forget it, then.

Well... let me know if you remember anything, then.

'Organic meatbags?'

I would hope not!

Fine, fine. Whatever.

Just... stop calling me master.

No!

Are you deliberately trying to insult me?

How about 'human'?

You'll just have to suffer.

Would you prefer I call you 'junk'?

No it does not suffice!

No, I am *not*.

Do you want to end up in the trash heap?

I just don't appreciate being called a meatbag.

Fine. Just stop calling me master.

Why not? I don't need a lippy droid.

What, 'meatbag' isn't considered lippy these days?

Untrue? You've been lippy since I bought you.

I guess you're not all bad...

Now, listen here...

You're pretty bloodthirsty for a droid, aren't you?

You just called me a meatbag *again*!

Just stop talking. I give up!

What was that?

You're the one who's driving me mad!

Neither do I, come to think of it...

  • sigh* Just stop calling me master, at least.

I survive. Somehow.

I would like to know more about your functionality.

Are you damaged?

Is there any way to repair you?

So I can restore your memory?

Okay, that will be all.

So how do I go about restoring part of your memory?

So you're saying that your memory might just... come back?

Tell me what you can, then.

Can you do anything else?

An assassin?

Err... I won't tell anyone.

I'm glad it's gone, really.

Has that function been... used a lot?

Is there any way to reactive that function?

How can you not know parts of your functionality?

I thought you said that removing your restraining bolt would restore your memory?

So you lied to me.

I want you to rejoin the party.

I want to switch you with another party member.

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