#TAC mobile

[pier-carlo-universe]

Alessandria: chiusura temporanea di Via Santa Caterina per posizionamento TAC mobile

Una nuova TAC mobile per garantire l’attività diagnostica durante i lavori

Una nuova TAC mobile per garantire l’attività diagnostica durante i lavori Grazie ai fondi del PNRR (Piano Nazionale di Ripresa e Resilienza), l’Azienda Ospedaliero-Universitaria di Alessandria (AOU AL) sta provvedendo alla sostituzione della TAC con una nuova apparecchiatura all’avanguardia. Per evitare interruzioni nell’attività diagnostica, è stato disposto il noleggio di una TAC mobile che…

[tac-bat]

Blood/violence mention Man, my interpretation of the twins bond is tragic.

They fell into the kingdom as children, the youngest. They were always together, and helped one another; they were each other's eye and each other's arm. But because they were children, they were more impressionable, and instead of being ready to be elders like the others, the twins were raised to be elders; they knew nothing else.

So the other elders taught them how to be one, and Sah (spike hair) always seems to be behind Mekh (flat hair), no matter how hard Sah tries. So Sah tries anything to be better, and Mekh does the same. Yet this turned them against one another.

Mekh now wants to be perfect in everything, because they think that’s how they’re supposed to be. They would be ridden with anxiety if something went wrong, horrified to disappoint, even though not being perfect is completely fine. And Sah feels horrible when they’re overshadowed, thinking they’re not good enough.

And as the years stretch on, that sibling jealousy turns into real jealousy, and the bickering that comes with having a sibling turns into physical fighting. That joking familial hate that’s never real, becomes real.

Because they genuinely hated each other at one point.

Yet they’re both too wrapped up in their own issues to address them; they’re too proud to acknowledge how they treated one another. They barely ever spoke in their teen years, and when they did, it was usually a fight.

Hell, they haven’t seen each other's faces in so long; they have their own faces to remind them of what they look like, but their twins face always had something that separated them, something that was now fuzzy to them.

And they would’ve continued that cycle until Sah got hurt. Until that one day where they sparred again, when Sah stepped out of line and their words stabbed Mekh exactly where it hurt. But the thing I think hurts more is that the twins blamed themselves for the accident, not each other.

Sah blames themselves for pushing Mekh, and Mekh blames themselves for not controlling their body to slash Sah’s face.

Mekh can hear Sah’s screams; Sah still remembers what it felt like to burn.

And Mekh tried to apologize, but Sah pushed them away.

The thing is, they never really talked about that moment, even when pen ink reminded Mekh of Sah’s blood, how theyre scared off blood in general now. And how Sah felt themselves tense when Mekh had their paddle out for years after the accident Mekh never understands why Sah wear's their mask, even when it was a little small on them, the one they fixed, the one they broke. Sah doesn't understand Mekh cries silently out of nowhere sometimes. So they just sort of buried it, like everything else.

They were elders now; they had a realm to oversee, and now they talk to each other as if their past was a good one.

[ribbononline]

assortment if random small oras doodles i dont think i ever shared

[thixpro-technologies1]

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[ariathelamia]

Hellhound HRT Month 9.5, (4 month Wolf, 5.5 month Hellhound)

Warning: This story gets a bit dark at the end.

Tic Tacs and New Clothes… 

Well… This little segment is gonna be hard to remember…. but remember I must… … since I myself… actually am unable to write or record anything right now but… ngh… better recount the steps on what got me into this predicament… 

So there I was, strolling down the shopping street of Hyper City, slurping some cold soda I got from the restaurant since I really needed something to keep me cool today. Since I pretty much burned through all my favorite shirts and tops except for this one, trying to get a hang on that flaming core of mine. Speaking of! Something I noticed about the fur on my chest is that some of it started to get REALLY solid… From the looks of it, the texture it’s taking on really reminds me of what Nyarlathotep and Mars have on their heads… I believe I remember Mars calling it a “crest”, another sign that I myself am not just becoming any kinda hellhound… but an Eldritch one. Don’t think I ever heard of something like that existing, which means there’s no one I can really ask about what to expect but to be fair… when was this ever the case in my transition, ever since I did that ritual. I shrug to myself, thinking that hey, just gotta be the first one so I can teach others that might choose this down the line~ sorta like Felic- i mean Felix that helped me figure out how to work my tail. Thinking about that just made me kinda excited, and I just had to give that pill bottle in my pocket a little tab… why was I so goddamn stupid to bring it with me… 

I decided to go get some tic tacs at a kiosk, was craving sweets that day like crazy! 

Putting those in my left pocket I strolled down the street, without a care when I accidentally bumped into someone…. A woman, not much taller than I was in a blue dress, I got worried that I might have hurt her… maybe she bumped into my chest? I didn't know so I sprung up and helped her. Looks like i wasn’t the first person she bumped into today, and she decided to be kind enough to suddenly and unexpectedly pat the dirt off my pants and shirt. I was trying my best to keep her hand that was patting my shirt from accidentally touching my crest so she didn’t cut or burn herself. After she was satisfied she stood straight, dusted herself off as well and then looked me in the eyes… something about them was odd… they were kinda… glassy, oh god was she about to cry?... no it seemed different... (Of course it felt different-... that's when it must have happened-... god i was such an idiot.. AM such an idiot-... urgh… focus FOCUS!!) 

We… said our goodbyes and she left down the road smiling… I sighed, put my hand into my right pocket and pulled out the little tic tac bottle… popped two into my mouth and-... god they tasted weird…  still sweet but something about them was off… they melted quickly and i decided to just shrug it off to my taste being different now, and headed to my destination.

A friend of mine told me how, when she transitioned into a Lamia, she definitely needed some fitting clothes that also kept her warm and mobile, and found this pretty awesome place that apparently other people she knew frequented and keeps all kinds of pretty cool clothes for pretty much any kinda therian out there.  So yeah i hoped they also had something fireproof that doesn’t melt or burn away, but also got more style than that stupid blue and gray hospital shirt they gave me in bulk…

So yeah I ended up finding that place pretty quickly, the “Heart Mender Boutique”. Looked pretty neat from the outside… but something made my hair stand up for a second when I decided to enter…  By now I could already tell, something bigger hid in this place. But I just shrugged it off, popped a few more tic tacs from my dispenser I grabbed out of my right pocket.. must have been like… 10 or 12 at once… after all the first two pretty much disappeared right away. That same shiver ran through my body again and I had to stop myself from gagging… even though the taste didn't seem so bad?? damn my body was getting weird (... getting weird my ass…) …. Anyway I looked around for a second by myself, checking some of the strange designs they had, some of these shirts were HUUUUGE, others really freaking tiny… some had extra sleeves for wings or extra arms… some were a bit more loose which probably could fit some nice amount of furr in, without pressing it all against your body… pant’s with tail holes… clothes that were waterproof… there were even some labeled to be “Shapeshift resistant”... still wonder how THAT works… but i couldn’t really find the fireproof ones… if they even had any… so I had decided to look around for some customer service… Didn’t take me long to find some that seemed to know what they were doing. There was a older woman, dressed in a lavender dress and a purple overcoat, neat dark purple hairstyle and a certain skin complexion that i just couldn’t remember the name of, even if i tried, who did later introduce herself as Willow, talking to another, younger employee with messy long hair and a clothing style that was quite more my kinda thing, which i would find out is called Samara. I approached the two since I weirdly felt even the slightest bit of a connection to them in my gut, waving to the two and interrupting their talk.

As it turned out I hit the jackpot since Willow was apparently one of the owners of the store, who was quite happy to help me out. Not that the other one wasn’t giving me a few looks up and down, already checking me out to probably see what kinda clothes could fit… though now that i think back on it… she did seem a bit tense after i approached… just like willow… but i just wrote it off to having been suddenly pulled out of their conversation by a hellhound with a smoking hot top… literally. Anyway after I put out the smolder on my shirt, I got led to a section of the store I must have missed before. She showed me how some of these clothes here were worn by all kinds of species with a bit more heat to go around… elementals, dragons… and apparently we also found something that seemed to be quite a fit for me. Some neat shirts with logos of bands and places I never heard of… but seemed to be popular where Willow came from. Turns out these were apparently styles from, what i knew as the “Sonic and Shadow” franchise, which i formerly thought were simply video games… leave it to Hyper City’s connection to basically every kinda dimension to make you realize that… reality is a lot more wobbly than you thought, (and that comes from someone who’s been pulled through eldritch dimensions).  While I was picking out some clothes, with the help of Willow and Samara, having a nice chat with them about our… quite similar experiences when it came to interactions with other citizens, we were approached by a third person… A man that looked about the age of Willow, his hair was slightly graying, styled in dreadlocks with a few golden ornaments, glasses just like Willow… a large loose overcoat with simple beige pants and a black shirt. Now with all three around me I couldn't help but notice that… the feeling I had when I stepped into this building was largely coming from the presence these three gave off… I meant to mention it in our talk but… well lets just say the man who introduced himself as Dominic, apparently the husband of Willow, seemed to be quiet… intrigued by me… as in… he started to hide his real intend of “interviewing” me, with casual smalltalk and a lot of questions. He was very formal.. like.. uncomfortably so, but that's probably just a me thing since formality to me is just uninteresting behavior… I usually keep stuff close to the chest and speak my mind as thought. Anyway he asked me a bunch of stuff about my transition, how it’s going, what kinda other changes could be expected so that we could look for clothing that has those in mind… I didn't know it was just odd to me so I kept the fact I clocked them as other eldritch beings to myself for now. They were very good at hiding that fact but… I have been around mars and that stupid tentacle bitch enough to be able to kinda.. feel that connection and recognize it, even if it is as well hidden as theirs is.

Why did I hide it? … Well my record with eldritch has been 50/50 right now, and i don’t know if these are like mars who transitioned… or like Nyarlarthotep who were born this way and i didn’t wanna get more eyes like THAT on me… 

I tried to keep my answers as short and truthful as I can, while still just trying to pick out some clothes for myself. They were nice overall but that could be just a charade… maybe… urgh i hate how paranoid i have become… if only i had talked to them more openly… maybe what happened later could have been prevented… maybe they could have helped out now… 

I did end up buying a bunch of clothes to replace those i lost, taking a quick look at the “looking for part timers” poster behind the counter and putting that at the back of my head, and popped a few more tic tacs since damn, all that talking and questioning and finding out made the sugar craving pop up again. I did get a quite confused look from Samara who was packing the clothes when I did that… Asking me if that’s normal… I did raise an eyebrow myself, holding out the now almost empty pack of tic tacs to her and asking if she wanted one… she declined quite profusely and just finished packing the bag and handed it to me… maybe she’s allergic?... Are eldritch allergic to tic tacs? WILL I BE ALLERGIC TO THEM? IS THAT WHY THEY TASTED SO FUNNY?!... It’s kinda embarrassing what mental gymnastics i did there…

I grabbed one of those store cards with me and waved them goodbye, vowing to return for some more clothes once I get more money…. I hope I can still keep that vow…. 

Everything seemed perfect… I got a bunch of new clothes… met some quite nice people… had no ill run in with a pedestrian calling me slurs or a danger… and i even finished my pack of tic tacs… I had put my new clothes into my home, actually put one on ‘cause the one I was wearing had a couple burn holes by now… weird how that happened even though i had made sure to keep myself calm and happy at best… anyway i decided to do one last stroll through hyper city to end the day… best decision I made cause otherwise I’d probably be homeless after this. 

While strolling through the streets I ended up noticing that… my legs felt really bad.. like.. they hurt quite a bit so i decided to find a place to sit down… ended up walking into an old skate park i knew was around the corner.. plenty of benches and space here. I was texting my Therapist about the day, her name is Amber, it’s the one Mars frequently goes to and recommended to me. For someone who works with Erian she’s actually quite nice and really helpful! Though while texting my phone suddenly seemed to overheat… luckily i managed to send her a last message about where i’m headed for the night, just to finish off my report of the task she gave me to get those clothes and get some sense of normalcy. 

That's when things got bad… Not only did my phone overheat.. it started to melt in my hand! that's a baaaaaaad sign of overheating for me.. I quickly dropped it to keep the damage minimal and to the casing alone, can’t afford to burn through another-.. and did a check on my core. It was BLINDINGLY bright after i removed the shirt… how did i not notice that?! How did I not notice how hot I was actually getting!? I looked behind me and noticed the smoking smoldering footprints I left behind me and panicked… I NEVER got THAT hot before. I looked down, noticing not only that I pretty much burned off my pants and boots, which were  sadly not AS fire resistant as my top, but also that… I was literally melting the concrete ground beneath me. This is bad… really bad. I did here the clattering of my tic tac pac which must have just fallen through the remains of my pocket, when I noticed something that shook me to the core. In front of my very eyes, that tic tac bottle seemed to shift- INTO THE BOTTLE THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HOLD MY HRT MEDS!

How was this- why !? Empty!? when- the tic tacs- oh no… no no no no no NO NO NO!!!!

With that realization… came the pain… like my body was finally allowed to register things again. At a very bad time. The heat was disastrously painful… I felt like I passed out and got jolted up by it alone multiple times before I even hit the floor… hit the floor? When was I even falling… Why couldn’t I feel my feet anymore?!

That question got answered the second I looked down… My feet had literally broken off by the ankles, as I was looking at the crumbling bits of paw formed ashes that used to be MY paws. I clutched my chest as I heard the park's sprinkler system spring to life, though the water even didn’t make it halfway to my body to give me that sweet release of cold I so desperately craved by this point. The park quickly filled up with a thick fog of smoke and steam… and I could feel myself slowly sinking into the ever melting ground beneath me.

By then I also started to lose the feeling in my hands that were clutching my chest… I looked at the slowly graying claws and fingers that broke off of my body, like the ashes of a cigarette that could no longer hold on to the rest of it. I started vomiting up thick globs of red and gold glowing liquids, whose consistency reminded me of magma… were those my organs that melted?!  Probably…

I couldn’t help but be reminded of that time I met Nyarlathotep… she warned me… how I would end up burning up into a pile of ashes… I thought she was just trying to scare me… I never thought she was actually right… 

Tears of the same kinda hot liquid started streaming down my face.. by now the only thing i could feel was heat… and pain… and fear. I didn’t want to die… I DON’T want to die… 

In my head I kept crying out for help… the only thing that kept me from crying out in my voice was that my lower jaw had already turned to ashes itself. Only pathetic noises and yelps of pain came out of that fiery half maw of mine. As my body seemed to be covered by darkness.. and brimstone. 

Something I hadn't noticed and only started to realize later, was that the smoke and steam covered up the strange material that formed out of the molten concrete and whatever my body was leaking at the time… until it formed a hard shell that must look like a black and red glowing blister on the ground.  Despite not having a heart anymore… at least none that i could feel… I could still hear a beat…  The shell itself seems to beat LIKE a heart… with every single one the glow intensifies for a second.. before dying down… The beating of this shell… this Chrysalis… ended up calming me down enough to realize that… the pain was… gone?... I… was gone… but yet I was still here… molten and broken down into what I believe to be a shining sphere of heat… is this what it thought to be my flame organ?.. 

Whatever it is.. it seemed to contain everything of me… my entire being was now condensed to this single, white and gold glowing orb… 

I don’t know what is going on… and I am beginning to more and more lose my grip on reality itself… I keep rerunning these memories in my… i wanna say head but… urgh i don't know!!

I can hear the noise of sirens outside… some people shouting orders… but they are too muffled to make out what they are saying..  I feel myself slipping away again… when will I wake up again?... Will I be able to recount what happened today?... Is it even still today?...

Will “I” even be the one waking up again? … Why can’t I help but imagine this damn grin of Nyarlathotep… telling me in her obnoxious voice how she was right…?

Why is it that I somehow WANT to see her again…? 

Damn… here comes the darkness again-... so… calming… so…

...

----------------------------------------

Edit: FORGOT TO MENTION!! Samara, Willow and Dominic, as well as the Heart Mender Boutique were created by the wonderful @home-sweet-hive and star in his ??? HRT series!! Go check it out!!

Also the Nyarlathotep mentioned in this story appears in @dawning-mars Eldritch HRT! Definitely check it out, it's amazing!! It even has me in it now X3 - Nia

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[orangez3st]

Broken Pillar of Justice

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.12.25: Conflict | Event Masterpost

↤ Prev | Part 3 of 5 | Next ↦

Summary: The Corrie Butcher has finally been brought to custody. The next step is consulting with the prosecutor, but the system fails the clones that died before the entire case had even begun, fracturing Lesiil's faith in justice itself. Tags & Warnings: comprehensive criminal investigation process (house raid and negotiation, suspect interrogation, presenting the case to prosecutor) that may be inaccurate but hey that's what fiction means just telling ya, author likes to watch true crime (for reference), clone rights, slight angst, argument Pairing: Fox × Det. Lesiil Thrace (OFC Crime Investigator) Word Count: 7.3k A/N: A lot of research with this one and I had fun writing this! Clone rights element is just default for me I'm (not) sorry. It's the perfect means for angst delivery. Thanks for being here and for enjoying the previous ones 💓 (next one is really soft I promise)

𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆

— Until It Doesn't Hurt - Mother Mother [X]

Marshal Commander Fox is seething with rage.

Donned in all his white and crimson glory, Lesiil can only spot it by his fists tightly clenched by his sides, shoulders and back so straight and rigid in his stance, breath inhalations so sharp it carries out through his helmet's vocoder.

But how his amber brown eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring, lips thinned, and jaw tightened, Lesiil can only imagine, for the Marshal keeps his helmet on, solely to harbor emotions and prohibit everyone else to read his person.

Marshal Commander Fox is reining himself in.

To not shout at everyone to hassle. To not urge the tac team to make their entry now. To not strangle the police captain and grab their comm to scream direct orders to move in. To not burst out of the mobile command post. To not throw himself into the fray and force entry and start blasting. To not challenge the Corrie Butcher. To not give in to vengeance and execute the person behind the killings of his fallen brothers.

The air in the mobile command post shuttle is thick with tension and full with coordinating chatter.

The captain is making contact with the sergeant of the entry team that's been standing by and attempting to make contact for the past hour. Suspect is barricading himself. One sentient negotiator is attempting to make contact alongside the tac team. Heat signature reading signals the presence of a weapon. There could be a possible lethal altercation.

All this, CSF jurisdiction.

Marshal Commander Fox can do nothing.

“The mental health condition of the suspect is quite unwell, frankly,” Lesiil had said not too long ago, “PTSD and dissociation together combined with, say, substance abuse as we speak to reinvigorate himself, makes him prone to be all the more aggressive.”

Even with this amount of force, Lesiil is confident there may be blaster fire involved.

“Start wager, Detective,” the police captain turns to her, “Chances on this guy to start blasting?”

“High,” Lesiil replies without hesitation.

“Negotiations failed,” the police captain states, “I want you to go down there and give it a try. This is a populated neighborhood, and I can't risk heavy fire even though it's just one man.”

Lesiil nods curtly. “Understood, sir.”

With BD-6 quietly perching on her back, she turns to leave for the hangar.

“Commander, you're staying here.”

Lesiil pauses and turns, meeting the cold gaze of his helmet's grey visor. Fox is following her like a lost puppy.

“I’m her commanding officer, Captain,” the Marshal grits his teeth.

“Respectfully, we can't risk collateral damage, Commander,” the captain insists.

Lesiil steps in. “The Marshal is the head of the Coruscant Guard. If anything, he alone is more capable than a few men combined,” she defends, drawing the clone’s attention onto her. “And he’s correct. As of now, I’m still assigned to the Coruscant Guard. Marshal Commander Fox is my CO. He has direct responsibilities to oversee my actions.”

Eventually, the captain sees no good in prolonging the debate so they're both let go with little reluctance.

“You didn't need to defend me, Detective,” Fox mumbles, inching a little closer to make the conversation.

“But I did, and now you are here,” Lesiil counters, “When I'm in your HQ, you make sure everything is in order. And now we are in the midst of a CSF operation, which is my jurisdiction exactly. Allow me to return the favor, Marshal.”

Even BD-6 beeps out his agreement.

They descend onto the platform with a police interceptor. The entry team sergeant and negotiator brief and counsel Lesiil on the essentials before they hand over the communicator, telling her they're ready when she is, too.

Positioned behind the ray shields, Lesiil looks over her shoulder to see the Marshal; one of his dual blasters drawn, on one knee just slightly behind her, his vambrace rubbing against her shin to huddle as close as possible, and to protect her from outside harm.

A single white and crimson among blue and black.

Fox looks up. He gives her a go-ahead nod.

“My name is Lesiil,” her voice blasts through the speaker, “To whoever may be inside, please pound on the door to tell us that you are well. We only want to know that you are unharmed.”

Silence.

“We don't wish to harm you. Please come up to the door and tell us you are well by pounding on the door. We mean no harm. Please tell us you're alright.”

When met with another moment of silence, Lesiil changes her tactics.

“I wish to know how you're faring, Mr Brando. We are all here to make sure you are well.” She takes a deep breath. “I know your history, Jai. I know what it means to lose a loved one. I know how it feels to cope after losing them. I have been there myself.”

“You don't know shit about losing someone!”

A flurry of chatter resound in the comms.

“DT makes contact.”

“Nice work, Les.”

“Suspect finally spoke.”

Fox pats her shin twice. Keep going.

“I know how it feels, Jai,” Lesiil presses on, fighting to at least keep her tone from going numb. “I went to that deep dark place myself. I lost my twin brother to a tragic accident. They never recovered his body. I mourn to an empty grave and utter my prayers to the wind.”

Another moment of silence, except for the faint sounds of Coruscanti traffic in the distance.

Lesiil clears her throat before pressing the comm button again. “So I know exactly how you feel, Jai. That guilt. Maybe you weren't careful enough, maybe you weren't stern enough to keep Kayl from going to that riot, making her stay at home… But she only wanted to fight for what was right.”

She pauses deliberately.

“Kayl held her values dear and close to her heart. She fought for her rights and her values until she passed away tragically. She wanted you to be proud of her, Jai. Your daughter loved you very much, and trusted you. And I know you love her too.”

Without realizing, she's wiping away a fallen tear.

“Kayl wouldn't want you to put down the lives of innocent men who only wanted to do their duty – the very same men who fought for their values in life as well. Like Kayl. Kayl loved life. She fought hard for the better. And most importantly, Jai.”

Lesiil pauses yet again, clearing her throat when her voice breaks.

“Kayl wouldn't want her father to become a murderer.”

A gentle touch to her shoulder. Lesiil turns to see the entry team sergeant, a sympathizing look in their face. “Now try to persuade him to come out.”

Lesiil nods weakly and takes a deep breath.

She meets Fox's gaze. He nods again for her to continue her efforts. She's not finished yet.

How she wants to see his bare countenance in this moment.

Until then, Lesiil still has work to do.

“So come out, Jai,” she tries not to rasp, “I know you are tired. You are hurt. We’re here not to harm you. We only want to make sure you’ve been doing well. Kayl probably would like to see how her father has been doing, too. I am here to offer you my support. Come out, and we can talk more about this if you're comfortable.”

When the door to the dwelling opens, Fox's instinct kicks in along with the entire entry team.

He shoves Lesiil behind him, blaster raised steadily at the door while the entry team moves in to detain Jai Brando. The hole from whence the man comes out reeks of death it hurts his nostrils even through the filtration system of his helmet. The man himself is no different. His bloodshot eyes and sickly face are stripped bare of hope and joy of life.

Lesiil pushes past him, meeting his gaze momentarily before they look down – Fox's hand remains around her wrist. Not harshly, but gently, protectively. A gesture he surely knows that she knows, because she passes him a reassuring smile, and the stormy grey in her eyes glimmers under the Coruscanti sun in appreciation.

Only after they put Brando in wrist cuffs, Fox holsters his DC-17, and goes to watch Lesiil read the Corrie Butcher his rights from a distance. Passing him, the squad urges Brando to get a move on into the transport shuttle. And only then Fox gets to meet the other man's gaze. The one who killed his many brothers.

Strangely, he no longer feels that hot simmering rage in his throat and stomach and everywhere on his body. His vengeance ceases, leaving only absolute conviction that Jai Brando will be dealt accordingly for his ruthless actions.

“I will have to stay here, Marshal,” Lesiil approaches him not long after the prisoner transport drifts away, sirens blaring. “I need to inspect the scene and collect evidence. My role here, after all, is the lead investigator. Would you like to leave for HQ now that Brando is detained? Break the news to the others?”

That can wait, Fox thinks. Besides, the holonews would break it out for them. He wants to see with his own eyes Brando admitting his guilt and remorse while breaking down as the breakdown would probably bring more satisfaction.

“When will the interrogation take place?”

“After we collect witness statements from his neighbors, clear the scene of any damning evidence, and make initial contact with the prosecutor,” Lesiil answers promptly in a beat, “I'd say about another two hours minimum.”

BD-6 lets out a reminding trill.

“Yes,” Lesiil smiles a little, turning her head slightly to her loyal companion, “Yes that's with Beedee’s help already. Two hours.”

He can go back to HQ and return to his senatorial tasks he should be taking every morning like a prescribed drug. Unfortunately, that is his life as the head of the Coruscant Guard. He can go back, finish his duties as what he's always designated to do, and make his way to CSF after she contacts him.

But the intensity of this case and the remaining proximity until it finally and wholly uncovers, if not partially, only drives him to be more irresponsible to his awaiting supposed duties.

“I'll wait,” Fox decides finally.

Her eyebrows furrow. “Are you certain? Waiting out here can be awfully boring.”

“I said I'll wait, Detective,” Fox asserts, “You do your work. I'l still be here when you're done.”

A hesitant, amused grin blossoms on her face – a glowing bronze tone a shade darker than his.

“If you'd like then, Marshal.”

Within the CSF, an Inspector leads a team of detectives in investigative work. Lesiil's Inspector is allowing her a break after all that process while the rest of the team takes over, Eisen being her substitute temporarily. She's beloved at the HQ. Though not even close to being given leniency, she's grateful that Inspector holds her efforts in high regard, especially since she catches the killer after not sleeping while non-stop thinking.

She had to ask Beedee for a little stim shot to keep her awake, but the biped droid insisted her to power nap instead.

Fox appears in her office’s doorway, the door swishing open upon his entry. BD-6 trills loudly, protesting how stubborn his owner is, that Lesiil has to shush it down even though the Marshal hasn't a single idea about droidspeak.

Taking off his bucket, he watches, amusement dancing in his glance. “Water or caf?” he asks her.

Lesiil eyes the flimsi cups he has in each hand. “Water, please.” He makes his way in, the door sliding close behind him. “If I took the caf, what would you drink?”

“Water,” he says flatly, “I drink water too, DT.”

A short laugh escapes her, accepting his gift. “Pardon me then, Commander Caf.”

He looks at her amusedly as he takes a seat across her. “Didn’t know you do nicknames.”

“I do have excellent humor in case you forgot, sir.”

Fox's scarred eyebrow lifts skeptically while he sips his caf. Looking into the dark liquid, he clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“Would you believe me if I say the caf in CGHQ mess is much better than that?” she teases.

Fox gives her a look. “Yeah, and I'm the Duchess of Mandalore.”

BD-6 hops on the desk, trilling the same complaining noises and scurrying over in Fox's direct eyesight.

“Alright,” he snorts, glancing at Lesiil, “What's it saying?”

BD-6 glares at her threateningly.

Lesiil lets out a long sigh. “I asked for a stim shot,” she says, the words coming out of her timidly, “Beedee insisted on a nap instead.”

Fox hums before he brings his caf to his lips. “You should take that.”

“Says the most sleepless gentleman in the entire Grand Army of the Republic.”

The reply fails to leave his tongue just as he catches BD-6 shifting, moving to the edge of the desk and dangles one of his feet experimentally in the direction of his armored thigh. He looks up at Fox in permission.

Fox says nothing. He gulps.

When the biped robotic feet and his entire weight land on his leg, Fox is already too stunned to say anything.

The droid whines sadly at him.

“Beedee says you need sleep too,” Lesiil smirks victoriously.

Despite the light flush covering his cheeks, Fox glares at the droid. “What are you, circadian rhythm police?”

Instead of answering with cheeky beeps and trills, BD-6 skips all the courtesy and hops up his arm, feet grasping onto the ridges of his armor, before settling just behind his shoulder with a quiet, barely-there trill that reminds Fox of a tooka purr.

Lesiil takes in the sight fondly with a sigh of her own. “It won't leave until you agree you'd take a nap,” she translates for Fox when the droid boops, “And Beedee knows how unwanted it is on your back.”

“Just feeling peculiar about the weight,” Fox reasons, meeting her questioning gaze while subtly rolling his shoulders, “Don't usually have attachments to my backplate.”

“Beedee likes the gaps and ridges in your armor. Those are perfect places to cling onto,” Lesiil clarifies for him. The droid makes his point by clicking his leg against Fox's backplate. “I had to customize my work outerwears with additional thick straps so Beedee can climb on.”

Acknowledgingly, Fox lets out a humming noise that sounds like amusement. Mirth dances in his amber brown eyes, the bags under them puffy. Before he can say more though, Eisen abruptly steps in, only to recoil when the purple Nautolan sees the Marshal Commander casually sitting at his partner's desk.

“Oh, uh, sorry Commander.” The surprise gets wiped off his face as soon as he catches Lesiil's attention. “You done with your break? It's time.”

Leaving her office altogether and stepping into one of many hallways in the CSF headquarters, Lesiil watches Fox, who marches by her side sans BD-6, puts his helmet back on and places his hands behind his back – a confident stride.

“Murder weapons confirmed,” Eisen tells her, passing her a datapad of the report, “The knives he used. Lab confirmed remnants of clone DNA along the blade. I think that's enough evidence to convince the prosecutor.”

“Abundant evidence,” Lesiil corrects him.

Eisen nods empathetically. “His clothes are still being tested as we speak.” They turn around a corner. “Brando’s been waiting for,” he looks at his wrist chrono, “two hours and forty minutes.”

Lesiil nods. “Is everything set?”

“We can start right away. Although, I get the feeling this'll be the shortest questioning we'll ever have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first thing being he's already expressing his remorse for murdering the Corries. Multiple times. Every time people come in or ask if he knows why he's here, he always says he killed them.”

Lesiil always likes working with Eisen. A good man, that Nautolan.

“You know your said prospect is fairly unrealistic, Eisen. We still have to dig out his motive just to be sure. We need to hear him say it,” she states.

“Questionings are always brief with you, Les,” Eisen grins widely at her – the classic toothy Nautolan smile. He tilts slightly towards the Marshal. “Her current time record is 18 minutes in.”

Lesiil rolls her eyes, trying not to blush when Fox lets out an impressed noise. “You are exaggerating, Eisen.”

“Hey, I'm not! It's the truth. And I am your ever supportive partner. Why would I exaggerate that to the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard?” He nods curtly to the man. “I respect you, sir. Thanks for keeping us safe.”

Lesiil lightly shoves the Nautolan’s arm. “Alright, I hope you are finished pestering the gentleman because we have an interrogation to do.”

These kinds of rooms are made to be as bland as possible. Monochromatic walls to limit distractions, table to the corner and chairs set up so that when the suspect is seated they don't face the door as the only way out of the room, cameras pointed towards them to observe body language. Lesiil herself has been in this room hundreds of times, and has yet to find herself on the other side of the table as a law-abiding individual herself.

Jai Brando perks up from his tearful brooding. Even from the door Lesiil can feel his exhaustion, and his anxiety. But most importantly, his remorse.

She pulls up a small smile as she approached one of the chairs. “How do you do, Jai?” she asks.

The man sniffles, looking anywhere but onto the detectives. “Good,” he mumbles, “I think.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Lesiil says gently, while beginning to sort out necessary datapads, “Apologies to keep you waiting. We need to review some more things before we begin.”

“It's…okay.”

“Very well,” she says, “I'm Lesiil, and this is my partner Eisen. Before we start, Eisen will have to read you your rights. We will have to confirm that you understand and of sound mind why this session is taking place, understood?”

“Understood, ma'am,” Brando sighs heavily, “Just wanna get this over with. I just wanna rest.”

Lesiil symphatizes. “I understand. We will have to ask you to fully cooperate so we may end this quickly and all of us can then rest.”

Brando nods firmly. “I'll tell you everything.”

Eisen then reads his rights, acquiring the murderer’s signature, and leaves momentarily to get some water for all of them.

Lesiil draws a deep breath before starting, “Do you know why you are here, Jai?”

“I killed clones,” the man answers grimly, “Hell lot of ‘em. The Corries. Shock troopers. I killed them.”

“When did you start killing these clones?” she presses on, “Do you remember?”

“Three months ago.”

“And what made you do that, Jai?”

“I…” he sighs, carding a hand through his askew pale blond hair, “I lost Kayl to that riot. They shot tear gas into the crowd, my daughter was in it. She died there, and I–” he draws a shaky breath “–I was angry…”

Lesiil waits for another moment to see if he continues. He doesn't, so she does, “So you were angry and you blamed the shock troopers?”

Tearfully, Brando shakes his head, “I love her so much…” his voice trembles.

“I know, I know just how much you love her,” Lesiil channels empathy into her tone, thinking about just how much and how far the man in front of her conveyed his love. “How many did you kill?”

“173,” Brando quietly replies after a brooding moment of silence, “I kept count. There were tally marks on the wall at my house.”

Lesiil saw those. It was on the second wall of his bedroom, a grim reminder when he woke up and before he slept after his murderous actions every night. And she did count, it was exactly the number. “Why?”

“I wanted to see how many I could kill,” he answered numbly, dark eyes looking dead straight into her. Lesiil doesn't waver. “To satisfy myself. To avenge Kayl.”

Lesiil nods to herself, mentally checking her list of necessary confessions. “What weapon did you use when you went out to kill?” she inquires again.

“A vibroblade.” He puts his hands together and leaves space between them about a foot long. “About this long.”

“Why vibroblade?” Eisen cuts in, “Why not a blaster?”

“I wanted to see the life blinked out of their eyes,” the man’s rugged voice rasps, “I wanted them to feel how Kayl must've felt moments before she perished. Begging for help. Must've been hard to breathe…”

Lesiil nearly shudders in dread.

“But not bleeding to death,” the Nautolan presses on. Lesiil sits back watching. “Why stab them? Why not choke them?”

“Waste of time.”

Lesiil ignores the matter-of-fact inflection in his tone. “Is that why you removed their helmet as well? To see them die yourself?”

Wordlessly, Brando gives a slow nod.

“On their body you delivered your message,” Lesiil moves on, glancing into the datapad in her hand. An autopsy still of a clone victim. “You wrote ‘why?’ across their forehead with your knife. You mutilated their bodies, Jai. Is there any reason for it?”

“I was in anguish,” Brando tearfully grits out, “Kayl is dead because of them. I was only asking the question to the cruel world.”

Lesiil shifts uncomfortably at the dramatic remark. It may mean little to most, but the dramatization of it is almost sickening. In her book, it typically signals symptoms of psychopathy.

“When you executed these killings…” Eisen picks up where it's left off, “How did you feel?”

“Like I wasn't in my own body,” Brando mutters, looking down into his hands. “It's like everything's gone numb. I don't really remember, but only sometimes. But sometimes I remembered I felt… rage. Like the need to kill those clones. To avenge Kayl.”

Dissociative episodes.

That'll be a sure challenge to take that to trial. Because he forgot. Even though physical evidence checks out, with the clone blood on the murder weapon. But then again, it will depend on the upcoming prosecution, like the dilemma it always is.

And the questioning goes for hours and Lesiil is on her fourth cup of caf that day since the detaining.

At some point when she walked out to catch a little break from obtaining every single confession and timeline about a quarter of one hundred and seventy three murders, Thorn graced her with his unanticipated presence. He even brought along Commanders Thire and Stone, for good measure. How the CGHQ fares with the most prominent command figures being here, Lesiil wouldn't bother to find out.

“What, you think we've never been here before?” Thorn had laughed at her baffled expression.

It's sort of strange to see them in headquarters. Like they don't belong. CSF is for sentients and police droids, save for that small division of shock troopers still under Fox's command. But the way they sit in the waiting room, walking out only to poke at other detectives’ tables, judging their caf quality, breathing in the more open atmosphere with transparisteel windows instead of concrete and durasteel walls, they are easily misplaced and stick out like a sore thumb.

And like the little bastards they are, since Fox is absent in his office and his schedule cleared out for the rest of the day, they bring the work to him. The kind of work that's remote, like spreadsheets. The very thing the Marshal hates with every fiber of his being.

He'd retreated to Lesiil's office to work on that, stating he doesn't find comfort in an empty office room far away from the interrogation wing.

Feeling out of place, the others, in solidarity, automatically followed, meaning there'll be at least a little mayhem or evidence of clone shenanigans in her office.

She would've told them off for violating her privacy, but Fox had been in her apartment 12 hours ago. She supposes with Fox being there is as good as hiring a guard from said mishaps.

After today’s questioning was complete, Lesiil managed to catch a short shuteye on Eisen’s table. The Nautolan woke her up to get a bite, a portion of a heatable meal, some grain and protein, presented in front of her.

“Not gonna lie, I'm feeling like dropping and snoozing,” Eisen says next to her while enjoying his meal as well.

“It does sound like a good idea. But we still have a job to do. Then, I shall be sleeping into the next Life Day,” Lesiil jokes. “How is it about the prosecutor?”

Eisen sends a brief look, his tendrils flicking momentarily. “She's on her way,” he says before swooping in for another bite. “We get Qrrish on this.”

“Again? Oh, thank Maker. Lovely lady, Qrrish.”

“Oh yeah, agreed. Glad we got her in this one.”

“Yes. But you do the talking, Eisen.”

“Me? Fat chance. I'll just be hovering over your shoulder, thank you. You're the lead investigator, after all.”

“That was a jest. I don't understand why people fear her. She is merely how she is, a prosecutor, and I respect her.”

“Yeah, but then again, you do see things from a different angle.”

Lesiil manages to send Fox a quick comm message about the questioning being done for the day and now they move on to present the case to the appointed prosecutor. Amidst her fatigue and fifth cup of caf that day, confidence sits right and has already buckled up.

This is it.

This is the moment.

“I’ll be honest, Detective Thrace,” Prosecutor Qrrish says solemnly in one of the CSF meeting rooms, “I have never been appointed to handle 173 cases at once.”

The female Togorian is one of the most widely respected prosecutors in the legal community. In CSF she's most trusted to prosecute most high-profile cases, and naturally, Lesiil has crossed paths with the articulated figure multiple times.

And Eisen too, being partnered with her as a duo. It's hilarious seeing the Nautolan trying so hard not to cower under the trademarked feline Togorian sharp gaze. After all, he's of an aquatic species, and Togorians are notorious predators, save for the air of serene regality about them.

The woman is practically harmless, Lesiil had practically to calm him down once, and she's a prosecutor who you'd be meeting every now and then.

Like now.

“Seeing this is very much a clone-related case, I would really hope to see similar outcomes in each and every case,” Lesiil says with a courteous smile, “And you are perfectly competent, the most proficient the attorneys office could send. This serial case is sent your way because your reputation for fairness precedes you, Prosecutor Qrrish.”

Maker, if only her Alderaniaan noble family could see how many candies her mouth just let out at that moment.

“You flatter me, Detective,” Qrrish’s lips pull into a feline-like grin. Lesiil notices Eisen shudder for a split second. “But I believe we should start right away.”

Lesiil nods, pushing a datapad forward on the table. “As I've said, the ace card we possess up our sleeve is the nature of the case itself – a clone-centric case, with nearly two hundreds of them as victims and a single natborn perpetrator.” She deliberately props her hands on the table, the Lorrdian within displaying utter confidence. “DNA evidence found on his vibroblade is 100% clone DNA from the much more recent altercations. Since every clone shares the very same DNA, this might be a single deadly clean sweep in court.”

“Physical evidence as such is solid,” Qrrish agrees, “But the fact Mr Brando has committed the crime under no surveillance is what's concerning to me.”

Lesiil cues Eisen to take over.

The Nautolan nervously clears his throat, placing another datapad to the table, the one that displays an array of holovid files.

“Salvageable HUD footage from every victim has been extracted.”

At the catch, Qrrish’s lion-like facial features twitch. “How many aren't there?”

“About 39 clone helmets were damaged and the live feed during the action was unable to upload in the last moments.”

“According to a friend of mine in the Coruscant Guard,” Lesiil cuts in, “These feeds are supposed to upload automatically to GAR server, but I guess Brando was faster before it could upload.”

Qrrish nods along. “Then that leaves 134 cases,” she mumbles thoughtfully. A flash of grim flickers in her green eyes. “Mr Brando's defense attorney would deny the other 39.”

“But the autopsied bodies of the clones–”

“They would argue it wasn't Mr Brando,” Qrrish interrupts Lesiil, “They would push that someone else had done it instead.”

“But his method of operation was consistent across all cases,” Lesiil presses on, her brows pulled in focus and determination, “Brando wrote the word ‘why?’ on the bodies to voice his anguish over losing his daughter. Every 173 victims had this word written on their forehead. Brando mutilated their bodies. I'd say that's a fair charge of tampering with evidence, times 173.”

Qrrish shakes her head, russet-colored mane swaying lightly. “It would not change the fact that the 39 cases lack documentary evidence, and the straightforward nature of the jury would only bring them to doubt. We need to put a face to the scene of the crime as it happened,” she states firmly.

“As we know, Brando used a facial mask and hood to obscure his identity,” Eisen asserts intently, bringing up another datapad, “But our really thorough tech department managed to scan for pattern recognition of his retina. Every single HUD footage was sweeped for a clear sight of his uncovered eyes within a certain timeframe.” He scrolls down to the results. “All matched, across all cases. Minus the damaged helmets, obviously.”

Lesiil passes an appreciative nod to her Nautolan partner. She faces the Togorian, whose fingers intertwine under her chin in thought. “I’d say all of those are solid 134 murder cases, Prosecutor Qrrish,” she says, pride simmering inside her chest.

The prosecutor’s feline face suddenly twists into a deep drown. “Murder?”

Lesiil blinks in bafflement. “Why, yes,” she replies hesitantly, then with a stronger tone of voice she adds, “This has been a case of brutal and merciless serial murder.”

“Detective.” The Togorian stares deeply into her, feline green eyes piercing like blades. “This is a series of property damage.”

“I-” she stutters in disbelief, “Pardon me?”

“I understand you are confused,” Qrrish says calmly, “But clones, you see, are not listed as sentients, they simply don't have sentient rights. Which means–”

“They have no right to criminal defense.”

At the detective's numb response, Qrrish nods emphatically. “Precisely.”

Lesiil remains frozen. Fists clench onto her trousers, tightening and gritting against the unexplainable burden dragging down her shoulders and her very being to the floor. Her chest feels hollow, just as her stomach feels it's going to melt into the earth. A sense of dread and tremendous disappointment washes over her. The entire revelation is despicably unfair, trampling all her tireless investigative efforts flat and tossing it into the execution courtyard.

How could I not realize this?

All she's been doing. All her efforts. Every drop of essence and every fiber of her being strained as she worked for all it was worth, every sweat and thoughts and determination thrusted into a serial murder case.

Serial murder case– no. Property damage. Changed names in a split second. Just like that.

Property damage. The phrase becomes sour as she voicelessly mutters it over and over again that it disgusts her to the bone. The phrase is bitter, a bile in her throat, a waste in her stomach. A despicable truth, a sickening reality.

“But…” Eisen's confused tone drags her back to the plane of living existence. “Property damage?”

“They are property of the Galactic Republic,” Qrrish says matter-of-factly. “I see this is your first time handling felony crime between clone and natborn?”

Eisen swallows. “Yes, Prosecutor. We've only dealt with misdemeanors before. This is our first felony offens–”

“Apologies.” Lesiil stands abruptly, the chair screeching behind her upon the motion. “You will have to excuse me.”

Her feet carry her to an uncompetitive race between despicable reality and the unbelievable amount of wasted time– no. Efforts. All she's dedicated and sacrificed for a serial murder case – annulled. Every single one of them. Every word she traded with Brando. Every single meaning behind it all.

Property damage.

Her eyes sting with oncoming tears. Her chest burns, her head hurts, and her feet ache from putting too much pressure on her speedwalk back into her personal space.

173 cases of Republic property damage.

The ridiculous amount of victims. The ridiculous actions of the perpetrator. The ridiculous reasoning behind it all. The ridiculous amount of time and effort and piece of her mind that was poured and set on fire and extinguished before it could even burn high up into the sky for the glory of the unknown gods that represents absolute justice.

Justice.

The word feels sickening to utter now.

And as soon as the door swishes open, Lesiil throws the last remnants of her sanity out of the airlock, slamming her arms down onto her cluttered desk and sweeping everything off it clean with a broken cry. 

Unacceptability burns white hot in her stomach now that it makes her sick. Hands come up to swipe her coils of hair away from her face. Exchanging deep breaths for calmness and recentering, she starts to pace, only to realize when she turns she's not completely alone.

Marshal Commander Fox, lounging on a couch so casually with a cup of caf in his hand and a datapad in the other and BD-6 perching on his knee, is watching her with the most unimpressed look on his face.

“You finished?”

So much for personal space.

Burning with embarrassment for the uncalled outburst, Lesiil sighs harshly that it comes out like a sob. “I wish to be alone right now,” her trembling voice says, “I must ask you to leave. Please.”

He stares at her long, before, “No.” He gets up and walks to the door, turning around with his arms crossed on his chest, his back to the door blocking her way out. “You're gonna tell me what's going on.”

Lesiil averts his gaze.

“Detective,” he tries again, but this time strangely softer, as if asking her with every ounce of patience.

“No murder charges,” she rasps, the horrible voice coming out from a dark abyss inside her body. “Property damage.” A bitter scoff escapes her. “Can you believe them? Property. Damage.”

Fox looks at her ridiculously, in disbelief. His head drops into his hand. “That's what you're complaining and making an absolute shit of a mess on your floor about?” he drawls gruffly.

His nonchalant and blasé, sarcastic excuse of a statement makes her head spin around in alert. Unlike her, Fox is indifferent. Both armored shoulders are absent of any tense, his loose posture holds firmly, and the dark bags under his eyes only get to darken in utter exhaustion at each passing moment. The signs alert her as oppositional and disagreement, and seeing it's Fox who radiates all that, it shatters her already fractured heart into pieces.

“You knew,” she hisses.

“What?”

“You knew Brando wouldn't be charged for those murders.” her feet carry her onward to confrontation. “You knew the entire case wasn't a serial murder!”

“Because legally speaking it wasn't even a serial murder in the first place!” he snaps.

“Then what, property damage?!”

“YES!”

Lesiil recoils in shock, the painful bile in her throat ever rising and threatening to eventually make her double over and let everything out.

Then why use the word ‘murder’ all this time?

“Property damage charges,” Fox's jaw tenses, “are the best we could ever get.”

“The best you could ever get?” Her voice trembles, eyes sting with tears as she looks at him in disbelief. “Did you hear yourself?”

He merely gives her an undermining look. “I heard myself very clearly, Detective.”

Frustration boils over to the brim of her patience. A broken sound leaves her throat. “Don’t you want justice to be served?” she rasps.

“Justice is served by putting Brando in jail,” Fox asserts somewhat calmly, “Under those charges, he'll be punished accordingly by law all the same.”

All the same?!

“All the same?” Lesiil echoes, her teeth gritting, venom dripping off her tongue. “I was assigned to investigate a serial murder case and serve justice for murdered victims,” she growls, “I wasn't investigating causes of property damage, I was investigating the causes of death–”

“Les–”

“–the causes of the killer's actions! I was investigating the death of your men! I investigated a serial homicide of hundreds of your men, Fox!”

The Marshal Commander swats her jabbed finger away, “It won't change the fact that we aren't sentients!” he snaps angrily, “We don't have sentient rights! We're clones! We are things! We are property!” Fox's bloodshot eyes blare in exasperation, every word hissed with dull cruelty. “Property damage charges to us are as good as murder charges to sentients!”

Lesiil tries. Tries to rein herself in, but a single sob fails her, making her doubt herself if she had always been able to hold her emotions at bay at all.

“Don’t say that,” she croaks out, her periphery blurring with tears, “All you're saying is labeling my tireless work as worthless. Are all my work worthless to you?”

Fox breathes sharply, his voice softening at the despaired sight. “I'm only telling you the truth.”

“All you are saying is making me feel like the absolute worst!” she shouts.

“Oh yeah, right, what am I supposed to do? Baby you? Feed you lies? Feed you nice little white lies to make you feel better?” he seethes, his voice rising.

“I am already living in a world of lies, Marshal.” A humorless laugh escapes her. Angrily, she scrubbed her tears away with her sleeve. “Just now, it is being unfair.”

“It's never fair.”

At that, Lesiil only sees red. Breath inhaled sharply through her teeth, oozing, unbridled rage wavering the foundations of her sanity as she steps forward.

“Do you ever think,” she begins raggedly, jabbing a finger into his armored chest, “when you, thinking and breathing and thinking, are considered as things that don't breathe and think?”

“We have duties!” Fox shouts, swatting her hand yet again, “We have honor! That's the only thing that matters to us clones! We're bred with purpose, and that purpose is to serve! Not whining to claim our rights as sentients, because we never are!”

A pathetic noise falls out of her lips as she shoves his chest away, his words unfurling like hate incarnate, betraying her beliefs and stabbing her flesh and inflicting white hot searing pain just like the suffering murder victims.

“I fought for you,” she growls hoarsely, “I fought to serve justice for your dead brothers, I fought for your sake! And when I get slammed back down with property damage gets thrown into my face instead, this is how you treat me?” She looks at him in betrayal, pain spreading across her chest. “Are you always this heartless?”

“Are you always this incessant?” he shoots back seething, “Whatever you did, or whatever you're going to do, it won't change the fact that us clones are property of the Republic!”

“THE CLONES THAT DIED WITH MY BROTHER AREN'T PROPERTY!”

She wants to cry. She wants to run. She wants to jump off this building and she wants to scream again. She wants to kick and deck someone across the face and bloody her knuckles and shatter her bones until the gods above grant her satisfaction when Fox understands her point of view.

That's what she wants. That's all she wants.

Her clenched fists tremble by her sides in anguish, throat dry and hoarse and not even capable of producing another pathetic sob to relieve the pressuring burden on her chest and shoulders.

“You are all men,” she rasps desperately, “You are all born and bred as men. You do your duty as men. You have mind, you have sense. You are men. Not property – not things – men.”

The Marshal stands still, shoulders heaving with a flurry of pent up emotions. Lesiil doesn't even bother to read his face, true declaration sizzling on her tongue and begging to be spat out.

“If you ever think that I was willing to be assigned to your unit for glory and fame, you are mistaken,” she snarls, “I fought so hard to get you the justice you deserve because I care. I care about clones. I care about every single man in the Grand Army of the Republic. I care about your brothers. I care about you. My brother died with clones and now I fight for clones, and you, Marshal Commander Fox, are going to watch me go against every single system that gets in the wa–”

Fox's gloved hand suddenly had grasped her jaws, his parched lips colliding against hers with unbridled force.

A breathy whimper escapes her in shock, and he withdraws as he loosens his grip on her face.

“Shut up,” his voice wavers, “Just… stop talking.”

And only then, Lesiil recognizes his amber eyes glistening, the faraway look tells her of his own struggle with rope-burned hands, every fiber of his being fighting to keep hold of his entire sanity together.

Yet in there, there’s longing. There’s want. Desperate for comfort, hands stretching out in the dark looking for signs of hope. Golden fractals within the amber orbs sparking nothing but misery and the desire to be loved, to spare him of anguished and painful truths he's never prepared for.

Lesiil graciously allows her thoughts trail off there, letting her hands wander on their own as they crawl up his chestplate, his neck, and bury themselves in his dark curls before selfishly pulling him in for more.

Both of Fox's hands drift down to her waist, pressing her body close as he savors her warm lips against his chapped ones. Between breaks, she wets her lips, and when they meet again she brushes them gently against his with purpose, every nurturing movement almost putting him to his knees, his shell of a man overwhelmed with so many emotions he'd never encountered before in his short life.

For a moment, there’s hunger between them. Not carnal desire to lunge themselves to be bodily intimate, but the hunger to simply care and to be cared for, to see such unspoken yet steadfast promises in each other's eyes.

When they pull away from each other, Lesiil's breath already tastes like caf, and Fox's tastes like hers.

“S’too much for me to hear,” he mutters pleadingly – such softness she's never expected to come from a rugged man.

And that's where the dam finally breaks.

Her sobs come in hitches as she weeps for her failure to put more numbers in the Corrie Butcher's imprisonment sentence. Her failure to deliver justice for the dead clones. Her success for overlooking and even blind to existing laws. Her failure to accept the despicable reality that these clones, even the human they are, are cruelly disregarded as such.

Fox unhesitatingly wraps his arms around her, muffling her cries into his armor and gently cradling the back of her head. He feels her fingers clutching desperately at nothing on his rigid backplate, the motion crushing his insides to pieces and sends a single tear streaming down his cheek and into her hair.

“I'm tired,” breathes Lesiil between sobs.

He shushes her, rubbing her back in sheer hope to offer her more, if not the least of, comfort. He regulates his breathing, voicelessly urging her to follow his motion, inhaling and exhaling into her hair and smelling her presence, acknowledging her as his now safe place. To be vulnerable. Together.

“I know,” he whispers into her hair, as a hopeless, broken man that's hindered by faraway dreams he is, and always is. “Me too.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose @filamentlights @heidnspeak

[rainyrambles-overcod]

day 5 of drawing one of the cod characters (/others) until I’m comfortable with trying to find my style

Briefly borrowed @gomzdrawfr ‘s oc Raven for today— I have zero internet access (currently on a limited access mobile signal to post this) so I have ZERO ability to look up references to anybody at the moment. And uh. Yeah. I remembered more on the appearance of Raven than any of the guys’ tac gear 😭

I sincerely apologise if any details are off—couldn’t look up the actual ref and had to go off of memory 😭😭😭 Also didn’t know what colours to use, SORRY 😭

[usafphantom2]

Composite Air Strike Force (CASF) was developed by Tactical Air Command (TAC) in 1955.

A small, mobile, nuclear-armed force, capable of responding to any prospective trouble spot in the world, able to operate unsupported operations for as long as thirty day. Air Refueling was performed by KB-29s, later KB-50s, utilizing the Probe and Drogue method of refueling.

First usage of this concept was July 1958 responding to the Lebanon Crisis, where the Lebanese goverment, under threat of a possible coup, requested United States military assistance.

Within sixty hours of the initial alert, four F-100s were operational at Incerlik, Turkey with a 1,000 man fighting team.

@ron_eisele via X

[gamergirl-niffler]

Dating game that surprised me... A lot!

Recently I started to play a mobile game called "Love & deep space" and I need to admit it - This game really surprised me.

When my ex-friend showed me this game, all I saw was: dating, pretty 3D, Korean looking men. I told her it's pretty and didn't think much of it because it wasn't out yet.

Few days ago while trying to get up from bed in the morning I suddenly remembered about this game and I decided to check if it's out. It was, so I downloaded it and started playing.

At the very beginning, the game was just a pretty looking game. I need to say that wasn't ready for the kinda limited but nice character creator (no possibility to change chair color & length - only available in photo booth option) and a voice modification option.

Main character looks pretty!

I just played through the story and my jaw honestly dropped when my game suddenly flipped to the side for a fighting section of the game

I was not ready, BUT I quite enjoyed it. Fighting reminds me about Genshin on mobile, dodge, tap, tap, tap, be careful of your health, etc.

Fighting parts aren't THAT hard, but at the same time you need to upgrade your cards and add things to them to make them stronger. Pretty basic stuff.

There are lots of fight related activities that give really nice rewards and drop materials needed to making your team stronger.

NOW THE BEST PART! - THE MEN!

Game has three love interests

Xavier - The sleepy boy

Zayne - The doctor

Rafayel - The artist

Each of them have his place in the story, and each is so much more than he looks like at the very beginning.

I honestly love Rafayel, maybe because he is an artist... he is also a little annoying, but it's also kinda sweet. I have the most memories with him and the highest lvl.

Furthermore, I love how going through the main story isn't the only way to interact with them. The game provides lots of options to spend time with them and learn new stuff about them.

You can go hunt for plushies in a claw machine or play a game that is like tic-tac-toe but with cats and cards, or you can take a photo with them. One of my many favourite things, I mean LOOK:

(in order, I mentioned them before)

I love it because in this mode you can actually REALLY change your MC's look, which is wonderful! You can change your hair length, color, change make up, outfit and add accessories. Also, you pick poses and background. You also can do pics of your MC, just him or couple pics or mix of everything!

Of course, the main story isn't the only thing, there are also plenty of 'side mini stories' that are unlocked by getting specific memories.

THE LAST THING, I TRULY FALL IN LOVE WITH!

I am a sucker for ASMRs, especially the ones with my favorite characters. I can spend HOURS listening to those.

This game has something similar! You unlock specific audios by obtaining the right memories.

There are two versions - the first version is more of a story thing so you can listen, but it has "subtitles" that describe what MC says and what is happening. You don't have to, but yeah, it's a bit hard to imagine what's exactly happening sometimes.

But the other version... ooooh the other version. It's made to be JUST listen to! No subtitles or anything, just... listen and enjoy what you hear

In summary:

I really fall in love with this game. It's so much more than I expected it to be. It offers a lot of rewards and makes it easy to obtain decent cards without throwing your real money away. Sure, it's gacha game, but it's not as annoying as it could be. Sure, you still can spend money for it if you want extra features, but if you look for a game that isn't just about spending your money, it's a good pick.

Animations look nice, cards are pretty, voice acting is good, story is ok I'd say.

As for me, it's a good game! I am recommending it! A lot!

[babaloga]

Guys™ in there (the browser window)

Everyone's* favorite Clumsy-Tic-Tacs-With-Names simulator is now available to play in browser at https://babaloga.itch.io/guys!

Now from the comfort of your own browser you can meet forgettable characters akin to (but not exactly matching) :

Landon the Worse

Felix, Professor of Intelligenceology

Andy, holder of the Picture

Gavin the Disaster

Princess the Gluteal

Also it works on mobile and has touch controls.

"What if you could keep airbags as pets in a fish tank?"

"What do the residents of the foam packing pellet dimension do all day?"

"What if Journey had been about bacteria in a petri dish? And also it had been called 'Staying in pretty much the same place' instead?"

All of these questions and more answered in Guys™!

[pier-carlo-universe]

Provvedimenti viabili ad Alessandria: Modifiche per allestimento TAC mobile, gara di calcio e vendita di dolciumi

Misure straordinarie di viabilità dal 13 ottobre 2024 al 3 gennaio 2025 per garantire la sicurezza e l'efficienza della circolazione in occasione di eventi sportivi, festività e allestimenti sanitari.

Misure straordinarie di viabilità dal 13 ottobre 2024 al 3 gennaio 2025 per garantire la sicurezza e l’efficienza della circolazione in occasione di eventi sportivi, festività e allestimenti sanitari. Il Comune di Alessandria ha annunciato una serie di provvedimenti viabili che interesseranno la città nelle prossime settimane. Le misure riguardano l’allestimento di una TAC mobile in via Santa…

[headmateelevator]

level three Dr. Ratio from the hit mobile game Honkai: Star rail that has epic gameplay, cool characters to collect, and an amazing storyline to follow! If you download now, you can get 80 free pulls! You can also see extremely queer characters, but the fandom will still argue about sexualities! This man also may or may not be inlove with a very specific gambler blonde and I will not tolerate anyone dissagreeing with my opinion. :3

hold the door!! someone's coming in!

name(s) - Dr. Ratio , Veritas , Alaric , Alistair , Atticus, Caius , Cassius , Elowen , Emery , Evander , Evelina , Isolde , Jules , Leander , Linden , Lysander, Morgan , Rhys , Rowan , Silvan , Soren , Tarian , Thorne , Titus , Valeria , Verity , Vincent , Violet , Violet , Apollo , Dionysis , Augustin , Diandra , Despina

pronouns - He / Xe / Ae / Vae / An / Analyze / Logic / Logics / Logicself / Calc / Calculate / Mu / Muse / Nyx / Eq / Equa / Equation / For / Formula / Formulas / Ma / Matri / Matrix / Vi / Met / Method / Methods / Ne / Num / Sol / Solve / Solves / Tac / Tactic / Tactics / Theo / Theor / Theory / Musi / Musics

gender(s) - Male , Blurimasculine , Catscholaea , Writergender , Libramasculine , Prettyboygenius , Cockygenius , Gnoseogender

orientations - Achillean , Aroaceflux

role(s) - doctor , assidumate , academic , archivist ,

species - human

source(s) - Dr. Ratio , Honkai: Star Rail

emoji(s) - 📖 , 🏺, 🍷 , 🍵, ☕ , 🍇 , 🐈‍⬛

likes - journaling , studying people , astronomy , psychology , reading , teaching others , drinking tea , documentaries , Photography , Organization , Small birds

dislikes - inappropriate jokes , idiots , Bright colors/lights , being disrupted when relaxing , Bigotry

front triggers - watching documentaries , academics , someone being uninformed or just blatantly wrong about something.

personality description - An outspoken member of the Intelligentsia Guild, dedicated to spreading knowledge far and wide, with the goal of eradicating the pervasive affliction of ignorance that afflicts the universe.

typing quirk - usually types with proper punctuation and wording, using a large vocabulary. though sometimes, usually when low energy, he can respond with simple, one to two word responses, even such as "k."

typing example / small message - Another day has passed. Today was particularly tiring, as I had to deal with multiple particularly ignorant individuals. but I remained patient nonetheless, as patience breeds success. though I feel a tad weary. Irritation can easily tire one out. I'm actually quite eager to rest tonight.

source memories - he has romantic memories of Aventurine. Aventurine would often overspend on gifts and outings for the two of them, which got on his nerves at times, but he didn't often complain about it, though he preferred when the two of them could create more meaningful gifts for one another. such as crocheting together. he also has memories of experiencing Chronic back pain, and had memorized several different ways to manage and lessen it.

faceclaims -

( 1 - 2 - 3 )

[corsair-news-alliance]

WAIWTAHWAIT I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER ONE !!

why commodore ? Like the name, whythe name? who gaveu your callsign ?

Lets take another shot shall we.

Kicks just as well as it did on my wedding day.

Now the Tac name comes from my tendency to love to one up people with tales.... Ah those were the days of walking into a room full of Lancers and start comparing stories.

I'm off track here anyways the name comes from the fact that CMC used to be a fleet of ships rather than a mobile station. Said fleet of ships was stolen from a Harrison Armories museum.... Last thing those curators heard from me was "This is your Commodore speaking, thanks for keeping all my ships in top shape!"

A lot of the old crew jokingly called me it and well... the name stuck.

//Commodore\\

[thixpro-technologies1]

Roulette game development company in Noida

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[esoteric-champagne]

happy new year instead of 2024 art summary (pending) have what I was doing instead of working on a zine piece due tomorrow (redesigning characters I haven't drawn since like 2019), detailed thoughts under cut

Achikochuu: she ends up being a support hero, so I gave her a harness for carrying people on her back. the 2 motifs are hearts ("chuu" is the sfx of a kiss) and Y-shapes (her civilian first name is Yuuka). the hearts on the front of the harness are sensors for smoke and chemicals during search-and-rescue; I toyed with the idea of also having an infrared sensor, but that can be added as an accessory. she ties her hair into a bun instead of pigtails when she's older.

Pause: previously "Ms. Pause," she decides to go for a cooler look and a more underground role. so I stripped the colorful chest plate/pants out and replaced them with tac gear, focusing on the visor (sleeker and more functional than previous iterations). the fabric color can be configured for stealth in different terrain. the main motif is the pause symbol.

Polaris: mostly the same. I added more arrow shapes on her sleeves, the backs of her boots, and on her dress. she also has a belt with things she can throw (her Quirk is "redirect," so she can make basically anything into a boomerang) and her agency's communicator badge. the scarf looks the same, but it's detachable so it can tear away if someone grabs it.

Nebula: no changes except in my art style. I love her and she's a fan favorite lol.

Ataeru: previously only her top half was designed, so I finished it up. darker lines on her gloves, and her belt contains first aid stuff and snacks. it also has supplies for tying her braid back if it gets in the way. the laces on the boots are mostly ornamental.

Kiru: also not many changes. I added a belt on her thigh to holster a taser or something. her collar tears off so it can be used as a tourniquet or a headband to keep her hair out of her face. the blue glowing parts can all be turned off in "stealth mode." I simplified the design on her boots because it felt redundant to copy the gloves. she works for Genius Agency, so all of this comes in a denim variant as well...

Beansprout: more practical, but I'm still iffy about the colors. it's a long-sleeve/glove variant of the previous design. the chest plate has a stronger plant theme, and I finally designed some boots. I cut the skirt because her hair is less likely to catch on the shorts. from a Doylian perspective, her theme color is pink instead of yellow (like a beansprout) because pink is cuter. from a Watsonian perspective, it's because she chose the name "Beansprout" for its sound more than its literal meaning.

High Beam: I tried to make her cooler. her concept evolved into more of a supporting role, so I simplified her colors. she has sleeves, a belt, a pouch, and a visor for practical reasons. the coat is asymmetrical, and the tails are split for mobility. so now she kind of looks like a Home Depot bisexual lol...

[ink-wells-and-feathers]

i want to know about ur taylor hcs PLEASE!!!!! I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT HIM SO HARD

GLADLY! I ALSO THINK ABOUT TAYLOR A LOT.

so look wise:

Taylor has an undercut with the top layer off one side about shoulder length. enough to have a top knot

Taylor wears those little plastic hair clips or like butterflies and stuff but his are typically Japanese Cherry Blossoms

Taylor's sword cane is covered in stickers

Taylor wears leggings and stretchy pants most of the time because he can "move faster in them"

other than his go bag Taylor's other option is a crossbody bag with a bunch of convention pins in it.

Taylor wears vans that he painted himself

Taylor has both ears pierced and does his makeup every morning

general headcanons:

Taylor is disabled. in my headcanon he has EDS and his cane is a mobility aid but his mom bought him a sword cane to encourage him to actually use it (if you're going to draw Taylor with his cane please remember that his elbow should be bent a bit. there's a good reference photo in the Taylor tag on how to draw cane users!)

Taylor draws and doodles as much as he can with his joints and this wears finger splints regularly when he is doodling, though despite his claims he's better at drawing flowers than manga

Taylor spend a period of time wanting to design a videogame

Taylor is embarrassed a little bit about his demon features. not because of what they are but because they aren't as pronounced as he wishes they were

Taylor wears exclusively matching pajama sets to bed.

Taylor played soccer for like a week in elementary school and tried various sports because of anime

Taylor's bedding is a light blue with light pink sheets and it's very fluffy and soft.

Taylor owns several lava lamps and has left one plugged in for a bit too long once so now he has to unplug them when he leaves the house

Taylor's room is wall to wall covered in pictures of his friends and posters and anything he wanted to tac up.

Taylor is unable to sleep without his stuffed frog from his dad from when he was really little

Taylor is sick a lot

Taylor was the second to say I love you to his friends. the first was Normal.