Deathwalker 2.3

             A high-pitched buzz cut into my head, and sickly neon lights assaulted my eyes in an obnoxiously repeating rhythm. The shrill sound got closer as a fleet of shining white droids appeared from the opening behind the jabbering man and surrounded me. Belatedly, I realized that some of that dramatic hand-waving had been to signal the security system. Pounding feet joined the shrieking blasts as men and women raced in with expressions ranging from astonishment to alarm.
            Now my mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Did he really just call the guards because I did my job?
            “Arrest this mountebank!” he huffed and squawked to the growing mob. “I want him brought under charges! I want his repulsive crime divulged to the farthest reaches of the galaxies until his foul name can never escape its miasmic stench!”
            The faces around me were shifting to shock and disgust with a heavy dash of curiosity. The only astonished one remaining was mine. A rumble of voices rang out as the curious crowd fought to find out what the hell I’d done that was so dreadful.
            The droids, unfortunately, were not held by curiosity and moved forward as soon as he said to arrest me. The metal implements that appeared from their smooth white casings were as intimidating as Tomas’ tomb. The slow, patient way they moved toward me made it even worse. What were they programmed like? Cats?
            “What the hell!” I yelled, forgetting propriety as I tried futilely to back away. They were everywhere. “All I did was the job you gave me!”
            Some of the humans heard me. I doubt they believed me, but a new clamor rang out. Since my protest didn’t make the droids so much as hesitate, I was too busy trying to watch all of them to pay attention to what lie the old fusspot was telling. There had to be something, some way to at least make them stop long enough to explain. To find one sane person who would listen. Panic had my thoughts skittering in circles as I darted my head from side to side – to stay out of reach. Like this morning’s meeting, I had a sinking feeling that this was a test I hadn’t studied for.
            No! I had!
            “I am Deathwalker Sephtis,” I shouted desperately, “license number 020-59274-411-13. I have been falsely accused of a crime without evidence and request representation by Order…” Shit! What was it? “214 Subsection B.19.” 
            Please, be the right one!

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