<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/236x/25/c2/79/25c2795fe8e2ae1ab68c24c0a7d3dc71.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Zebrin (http://sheet url)<br/><br/><strong>Species:</strong>Zabrak<br/><br/><strong>Profession:</strong>Mechanic Savant<br/><br/><strong>Location|Date:</strong>Claxon Club<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Club Manager, Z-Bot<br/><br/>The server droid followed the same routine each time. It moved to a table when called, mixed and served drinks from it's refreshment canisters, accepted the slotting of a credstick, deducted the credits, and went on its way. Hundreds of times a night the droid did this. Accepting payment from people of many races and every gender. So common. So mundane. No one gives the little droid a second look or a second thought.<br/><br/>(http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20071012121706/starwars/images/8/8b/WA-7-2_negtd.jpg)<br/><br/>It's amazing what a bunch of rowdy patrons can't see, or will ignore in a strip club. Zebrin wasn't dealing with distractions on the floor. He knows every warm and cold blooded species in the main room is oogling the dancers and tipping quite well. All the while his reprogrammed WA-7 server droid was doing her thing. Skimming a credit on each purchase and allowing him to survive another day.<br/><br/>Of course his penniless nature is something the Toydarian owner Crayshar would take advantage of at every turn. Pressing the young Zabrak's need to survive to his own ends. Zebrin knows full well he is being cheated by the cheapest and most duplicidous club owner in the galaxy, but there was little he could do about it. Confronting him would get Zebrin kicked out of the club. Maybe even buy him a beating from that foursome of Gommorean thugs on his payroll.<br/><br/>Skimming was the one recourse he had to keep himself alive.<br/><br/>Tonight it was the same old story. The security system in the girls dressing room was out again. Crayshar was certain it was being tampered with by one of the dancers and would hear no other explanation. The truth is the main systems hard drive was very old and in such a state that it is beyond full repair. Zebrin felt pity for the item. It tries every few days to falter and die, and Zebrin is called in each time to do some shoestring repairs and bring it back to life. He knew it was odd to have such emotions for an item, but he couldn't help it. Every time he touched it he sensed that it was ready to go. To end it's service and be scrapped or recycled into something else.  Yet here he is, on a ladder, and trying to saulder connections to get it running again.<br/><br/>(https://nothingbutcomics.files.wordpress.com/2015/12/watto.jpg)<br/><br/>"You see!" spits the toydarian in his home tongue. "These bitches keep turning off the cameras in here! I know they are sneaking into the back...stealing food and liquor! They think I don't know! But Crayshar knows!"<br/><br/>Or was it because the little toydarian got off a couple times a shift watching the dancers change from their regular clothes to those skimpy outfits? Of course it's the later. Zebrin knows this because he has had a backdoor into the security system. He has seen the toydarian flogging away while his favorite girls are in various states of undress.<br/><br/>The Zabrak pauses a moment before breaking his silence, and does so without looking down from his work.<br/><br/>"Ths drive is going to burn out." He says matter of factly. "You need a new one."<br/><br/>"You tell me this three times already...yet each time you make it work yes?!"<br/><br/>"It's going to burn out beyond repair soon and there will be nothing I can do about it." He replies. "You just need to pony up a grand for a new one or about 500 for a used one."<br/><br/>"You don't tell your boss how to spend his money..." The toydarian says as he flies around to get in Zebrin's face and point his crooked finger. "You do what you're paid to do! If a droid breaks...you fix it. If a security camera goes down...you fix it! I don't need your advice on how to run my business!"<br/><br/>"It's not advice. You have a part that no longer works. It is going to continue breaking down until it can no longer be fixed." He says in a tone that can only be described as submissive. The combat droid is about to step in but a stop gesture freezes it in place. The Toydarian flaps his little wings and moves a few feet back. Temperature in the room feels a bit more chilly as the owner considers his next move.<br/><br/>"Just fix it Zabrak." He spits angrily before flitting towards his office drawing a sigh of relief from the mechanic.<br/><br/>(https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5a/be/f7/5abef7f0c5af23cf0dc626d11c9c8e8a.jpg)<br/><br/>Z-Bot breaks the silence with his robotic voice. The vocabulator has been changed so the tone has a somewhat female qaulity to it. It made the spindly metal being seem almost like a real person to some. To Zebrin the droid was as close to a friend as he has ever known, and more than human. They are connected in a way that few could ever understand in that Z-Bot has it's own programming and processing, but Zebrin can seize control of him. Making him far more fearsome than anyone would imagine.<br/><br/>"He is a very onerous Toydarian."<br/><br/>"Well stepping up on him isn't going to win us any good favor."<br/><br/>"Good favor? Master the last time you worked on his security system he paid you 20 credits and a free lapdance from the dancer of your choice." The droid contemplates that a moment. "Come to think of it, you never even got the lapdance."<br/><br/>"It's complicated..."<br/><br/>"Less than you might think."<br/><br/>"I programmed you for combat with a secondary in protocol. I don't remember EVER adding psychoanalysis in the mix."<br/><br/>"A bonus package master." Z-Bot says in a sing song voice. "This manner of work is beneath you. The pirates were beneath you. You need a job where your skills will be appreciated."<br/><br/>"Maybe I'll apply as a dancer..."<br/><br/>"Does starvation suit you?"<br/><br/>"Now comedy?"<br/><br/>"My talents know no bounds sir."<br/><br/>The mechanic does as he's told and rededicates himself to his work. He wires the hard drive back together. It's a good patch and he gives it three to five days before the connections burn out again, and maybe one or two more patches before the insides of the drive melt like butter.<br/><br/>"I know I sound like a bore sir, but 47.4 percent of the people on this outpost are female on average. It would seem logical that sometime...at least once in the past few months one of their number might need some manner of routine maintenance. Releasing valve pressure, replenishing fluids, that sort of thing. Instead we hide out in the maintenance room and watch bad holycron videos."<br/><br/>"Can we have this conversation later?"<br/><br/>"Affirmative." The droid says flatly. "We will talk at great length about it later. I am simply happy you have confirmed that you are performing well below your standards."<br/><br/>With the work completed he puts the drive back in it's protective case and refastens it to the hanging brackets. After replacing the tile he climbs down and folds the ladder, quickly averting his gaze from a pair of dancers who have just walked in.  He motions towards the door. "We can wait at the bar for our money I guess."<br/><br/>He strides out of the service entrance backstage with Z-Bot in tow and takes a seat at the bar. Z-Bot follows suit drawing a few looks of disdain. Most bars don't allow droids of any type unless they are servants. This establishment has no such rule, but that certainly doesn't mean the patrons have to like it.<br/><br/>His gaze turns to the WA-7 droid and a barely perceptable smile crosses his lips. One way or another..this Zabrak will get what he is owed.<br/><br/><br/>