hello hello !! this is a highly selective / independent / canon - divergent / mutual exclusive CT - 7567 of the star wars franchise. please have a look at the links below before following && interacting, thanks !!
personals &&. non - mutuals dni
me in my corner: AHHHHH FINALLY GETTING INTO MORE OF ACTUAL CLONING STUFF
i’ll also say it, I dig nala se’s character. A LOT. sure she’s no angle, but character wise holy moly there’s grey area there to explore and I bet we’ll finally get more answers about omega through her. I’M SCREAMING !! she clearly wants omega safe, and at her standpoint I actually understand that, something I rarely see, characters always either so black or white. I’m still confused on her being a raw copy of jango fett’s genome ( putting the actual legitimate science of cloning aside ) but since ep1 the genetic supply wearing thin, it makes sense that she’s “ still valuable. ” I even thought that wouldn’t she be boba’s age by then? she didn’t have to be, since clones in this universe can be created at anytime, she just happened to be made later if her growth is not accelerated.
on terms for nala se, yeah, she’s not a cool bean in retrospect to five’s death. and nothing can take that action away. however, in the realm of science and scientific advancement ( only referring to fictional context ) it’s not at all far fetched to develop passion and / or appreciation toward a project. yes, omega is more than just a clone, she’s a human being. but toward nala se, she’s even attached to her differently and views her beyond how other kaminoans view her as just another special genetic marker. five’s situation dragged the attention of jedi, other clones, and palpatine. if she ever wanted to actually help out fives, even with a shred of good heart, she would’ve never gotten away with it. omega was never mentioned before, and neither has clone force 99. she has CONTROL in this area and actually has the power to keep her safe to a degree. so even viewing her in a moral spectrum, I believe reading context is key and can’t wait to find out more
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋, for the years that poured its rage filled waters of the intriguing color of blossomed crimson, wings of one so drowned in adversity, there was no doubt, and certainly no question that from bloodshed birthed prospects of beings greater than all he’d encountered. Day by night, the grumbles of pain the only tunes to accompany the permanent rings to his ears were up to no complaints, for that normalcy was at its domain. Always followed, always persisted with an ITCH. Brethren came and gone, barracks filled just to be emptied as beasts throughout the undergrounds feasted upon fleshed bones. Death was entirely plain to digest, with pride he’d taken it down the throat in just to the causes greater than a short life that need not be lengthened. Bitter flavor left in aftertaste, a scent designed to be craved and more so savored between sedated seconds.
No liar would be made of the captain, for that it was the echoes of deepened to lightest of hearted subjects in attempts to stifle the series of chortles amidst the darkest of hours beside LITTLE SISTER. Formality was required to be put aside, he knew all too well what mentioned titles had brought from their mentions, and ever more banter that followed close behind. Sleekness of elongated black hair draped upon and through intricately designed fabric covered shoulders, by every means there were a few memories punctured through to pull lips to one side into something more — humorously bold. Greeting in such, presumably snide method to another was of HABIT and uncontrollable, something tangible. Hadn’t warrior deserved a touch of humanity she had oft proved more reasonable? Alive, standing, lips parted in a bow in parallel to eyes that persisted the rare liquid glisten. It was this one that irked him timelessly where brows were repeatedly narrow at the taste of red herbal tea, it was no caf. Though complaints learned, adapted to seal tight as chest warmed at the heat it regenerated, complaints how ever still existed passed planet of ice.
❝ Funny you should mention — ❞ with unfamiliar ease plated arms had subconsciously wrapped around the waist not only for a tightened reciprocal of winged hailing, but an uplift where her booted feet would effortlessly dangle. Perhaps, or perhaps not Mulan’s grip caused the restricted huff in place of laughter. Never one for hysterics, times chocked them back, though as if on que, few existed to step upon on the contrary. In time, and subtle hope would push out once again to linger in its secrecy, gratification had earned the attention of wavered eyes. ❝ I’ve been informed IDIOT number two was taking care of that without me. ❞ and a shame at that as well, siblings were more than they were less, congruent with chaos.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆
disclaimer : the bad batch spoilers mentioned up to ep.7
PURPOSE / TRUST:
knowing from how soon Rex had conversed with Cut, it’s safe to assume Rex separated soon after he and Ahsoka buried the 322nd — and for good reason they parted. As much as it pains me from knowing they did, the cons still outweigh the pros. Rex by definition was a threat to her as an associate to the Jedi if she considered herself to be one or not. Which in turn I would firmly read that he has less reason to trust himself to be around others, including the rest of the grand army of the republic, his “brothers”. he quite literally does not know any better, and should he still have a choice to follow her or not with his prior conscious mind back, he would be going against a rule / moral in putting a life of a jedi (his fondest friend) on the line. the same reason would be emphasized toward Ahsoka should she have inclined them to stick together. out of both of them, she was his priority to keep safe, and would do whatever it took to make sure that effort in his first mind salvaged wouldn’t be put to waste. Rex purposefully kept even AHSOKA’S EXISTENCE completely ignored in front of the bad batch. maybe he would have mentioned her before he learned of their chips still within them, and having them all being walking weapons, mentioning a “jedi” still wandered would put both Rex and Ahsoka at risk, in the name of her protection. again, he has no reason to trust, and no reason to tell. he will continue this task in all terms of PENANCE / REDEMPTION / PURPOSE that he could entwine with his shattered dignity and time left to kill. Ahsoka is the most important being to Rex, and nothing would change that.
throughout the intro, he spoke less, and eyed more. despite having seen the bad batch in conversation with Cid, there was still room to side on the err of caution. Anyone’s allegiance was in question, and he had every right to be suspicious over Wrecker’s headache, which Tech (whom holds the least medical bias out of them all) explained his induction of their inhibitor chip activity was debilitated due to his developing brain wave scanner. Lo and behold Rex continued to be adamant on a basis that no one else at the moment had — EXPERIENCE. he’s not only seen it, he’s had his will taken from him on a biologically councoious level, and control like that couldn’t simply be neglected. His paranoia can thusly be supported in that regard, that his threat / physically defensive response was to reach for a pistol, gradually but surely, because it can snap that fast. He’s CALCULATIVE by nature and conditioning and isn’t trained to take risks when the stakes already suffered inevitable consequence just before. he didn’t want to bury anymore brothers.
reasons for why rex had to go to saleucami to warn cut in particular still kind of baffles me from how soon he did after order 66 commenced. which I guess makes sense if he’s put in a spot alone and had the choice whether or not to find associates that for some reason or another held enough warrant to approach, may or not benefit him. whether or not the order would effect cut at all, wouldn’t have rex risk the visit at all, he was a clone just like everyone else, a deserter is just a state of being, nothing to do with the control of consciousness that would still affect cut, whom by the way had not had his chip removed vs. how rex was so adamant to either eliminate or assist TBB in its removal. Why? Because they are still clones. though for a new based connected toward trace / rafa through ahsoka made absolute sense, average citizens that she trusted, he would too.
APPERANCE:
beside the ARAGON METAPHOR and his decent cloak that seemed either he found it or sloppily made stitched it in a whim, his pauldron was repaired. Which I find not too surprising since he did indeed, have time to repair it. And might I add very well too. Yeah, sure he kept fragments of his armor during rebels (we’ll ignore that), clones are made to fit those plates, and over the years cannot find a resemblance of normalcy without first addressing the formality of not only his line of work, but the PURPOSE clones were designed for — warfare. Rex exercises his damn best to not hold attachments toward anyone, but one thing for sure his securement within his own armor that he had grown accustomed toward over several years. It’s the tallies, cobalt, custom designs, trauma laced, and jaig eyed sigle that he’d earned that weaved into him. He fully recognizes he is just a clone at the end of everyday, and the armor was what differentiated him between any other soldier, most clones don’t live long enough to have the luxury to decorate theirs differently, and fall without so much of a memory to their name. We saw that with Rex’s thought in the idle moment where he didn’t just inspect his helmet, but seemed like he pondered over something more deeply meaningful, something he would never mention out loud — a view of a captain by an outsider, Ahsoka.
maybe as a token for his PENANCE, his armor isn’t just a constant reminder to himself what he actually is, and who he’ll forever be, but something ahsoka can relate / remember by. that a soldier he remembered himself as, and not the uncontrollable beast he should’ve been. it’s not far for me to truly believe he’s making himself believe there’s still a republic out there left to defend because of that HOPELESS cling he explained to hunter and his current occupation. he’s doing what ahsoka knew him to be; loyal. whatever that maybe to this or these unknown group(s) he’s involved with ( tbh I think it’s a coverup don’t @ me lmfao )
OTHER:
omega is sus af. like what cut asked hunter, if she’s another uniquely genetically modified clone, what was her purpose?? I don’t think even she knows?? personally I find it completely normal since she assisted nala se in throughout management of cloning research and the clone supply, that she would know about the inhibitor chips and their function to control their behaviors. but what’s weird is that she never had one. so her entire existence wasn’t botched, but KEPT, and I’m so exited to know more about her
@warwrecked : ❝ i don’t know what to do. ❞ src.
𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, they lied on the corpses of millions of their own defense. Walls built for something more valiant, men of value and the softest hearts, but of durasteel. Heavy, heavy, HEAVY had the helms dipped the chinned rims downward into involuntary mourning, minds unshackled more — but at unparalleled cost. Face beneath the guard, should it reveal air to aged skin, wouldn’t have expressed anything more than lethargy. Ambiguous was not of record despite adaptation being such a crave of encoded compilation. Inquiries not of their realm, mounts of year stacked age bore no warrant to answer, and would yet watch the backs of look - likes back down the blood graced soils below. No burial, MUTE PARADES for the chromed plates or lack there of. Kama still in windless terrace, accompanied by two loosely hung sable fingers, itched to no call to arms.
Eyes of beholders would remain mute, they knew nothing. To bare witness of the faceless, soulless, sacrificial brethren, contradictory nature set all for failure. One of mass muscle under charcoal plates earned nothing more than the lack of glance. Visors stuck same direction toward fellow batchers consumed with smoked machinery. Bickerment in the proceedings and obliviousness toward the conclusion. Never atypical to expect the quietness to achieve its grand waves of silence, many times equally DEAFENING, former commander attained the remnants of taught shoulders in this time and maintained the composure to the mind dared to be as ghostly. ❝ Press on. ❞ no lies detected under plastoids, faded tallies to seep by the rains that graced the new seconds and left him savoring more. Should the brethren seek obstructive method toward unknown paved slope, it wouldn’t be from the demoted. Not from the unworthy jaig.
𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘, pupils that darted for more than chest’s delicate surface layers, ill regard to the plates that shelled the skeletal structure for something more — beated. Spine as taught as ever, back blades yet tempted to succumb to her feathered words, ghosted in the chilled air that separated the bristle of blotched grey mantle, and the tatter of sable kama. The night in place shortly after the mute voyage from burial moon across hours back to the grasp of lowlife civilization, a new dusk to the dawn. Despite back to her view, ancient face guard protected the exhausted face from ever falling for the shed of precious IRIS LIQUID. The bustle of marketers in middle of the presumed nightly hustle for trade drowned her fatal phrase to pool down to soak into black collar where statues and monuments of his kind did behind the stone they were carved by. Had he earned the right to gaze upon righteous benevolent leader? Even on his knees the disgraced captain hadn’t the right to her very presence. A grace his cracked lips wouldn’t open for, should she ever bestow an unfamiliar ounce of clarity — their clarity. A knot unfolded in peace, for that this was the way.
Neither a fool, a faint grip onto their makeshift past into the strifed preservation, sacrifices must be made. Spiral arms of galaxies would spin without them, the tides rise and fall before their wake, and wouldn’t cease the extremes should their efforts lie non - existent. Some more than others, a rarity — TANO. Compassion unlike the masses, there was silence in place of either action and response. Eyes hadn’t drifted, but landed a meter in front of the tip of scuffed scorched boots. Bitterness and dryness in his throat became the norm as nothing else would be gained to contradict the old flavors. Only the ears to listen to a dying CONVOR to the grieving hawk, and the eyes of someone so dear, lungs would survive without the toxic yet sweet air they craved. Should gloved hands entwine around such entity, in haggard grip as another wail of his stomach ached for her subtly boiled embrace. His very touch, an unknown virus to the very system in requirement for survival. Her reasons he yearned for
How iron killed the stars, her veins courses the means to this push and pull, black and white between two hearts against the limitless others. Through a body worth wasting, how could sienna skin be brought down to such EXPENDABLE scrap of flesh. On instinct jaw tightened by his own self repeat, eyes shut so tightly brows narrowed until the skin over the nose wrinkled. Out of all demands — why this one. Should she have not been so inclined to drag this useless soldier, he might have been able to face front. Instead angled rim of the plastoid helm down a fractional tilt for punctured pauldron. ❝ Is that — AN ORDER? ❞ pumped organ yearned for a silent answer, some sort of gentle grace for a drunken leave, and perhaps availability to erase the memory of dark lipped savior. No more torture, no more suffrage, no more nightmares of that spirited body in the smolders. Not by captain’s hands. Baritone rattled the throat into a choke of drained oceans, couldn’t unclench the fists so inclined to seek serenity by the pistols that holstered right by. Trust, was now damn expensive.
𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 may fingered baton commence execution without so much of an utter. Void induced mantle such a blatant stranger to the ranks, men of boned shells, few in azure strokes, affixed upon the dark as if it was tantalizingly seductive — trigger finger itched them all. The one whose fragment left the necks cracked by specific vertebrae, elegant and unceremonious simultaneously. Inquiries flooded for a time in tandem to the tongues that dangled once faceguards removed to witness a face so useless. A viper in the grass, death on legs that maneuvered its wraith like fingers with the slightest scrape against plastoids to fall into blood red lagoon. Legion was no LABRYNTH for the figure as it was ease redefined. The casualties locked in memory without fail. Brethren fresh off liquid planet hadn’t swallowed the inundation of the internal at the scene in cyan grey static.
The captain had naturally, mentally, stepped into the boots of the unfortunate. Brother unable to enable lungs to voice up air, far too clogged in his own blood by metal blade’s undoing, punctured alike arachnid’s effortless and starved bite. A luscious SPLATTER of abused organs into the air it disturbed, a canvas now a portrait of singular chrome. Breath stolen in mere seconds, he had remembered how it felt from the stance in which reeled untouched skin of his own, snug within his ancient lasted layered plates. Of the few superiors above him understood the synopsis, it was one decorated by cobalt that branded each limb fall limp at the instant drain of life. Now, in his gloved hands, another nightmare on the verge of its own slumber. Down down down to the soils where phantom would rest beside the honored, and NUMBERED. Oh quite bold to twist sable collared neck and granted the lowlife attention. Yet clever to have hoarsely snuck ranked title to veer the soldier in madman’s gaze. Legion leader’s grip of undominant palm mastered the calmed boil of pistol grip, the other within the comfort in the sheath cried out for release.
Voice through the vocoder of his own satisfied the smooth deepened baritone where focus shook its shackles to be retained away from wraiths permanently gifted demonstrations, “Take me for an IMBICILE, and I’ll conclude my word — ” in mimic of rabid python’s dance had the helm of the captain deviate, the aim of the sea of encircled men pent up by silence died to simmer as his pace only lurched a mocked stride forward, black glass leaned downward not for well fortified restraints in hopes of no failure, but for mask he longed to relish. A miniscule PENANCE to the shattered comrades left behind in this mantel’s wake. This ghost emphasized their means to facelessness. Despite unorganized teeth grind and consequence of tightened jaws behind the helmet, there were far more vital associates in the neimoidian’s stage of political puppetry. Time was ally to no one but its calculators. A delicate click with finger’s ease in absolute memorization of barrel’s body, pistol armed in front of the masked raked its hiss untuned, “You have nothing to lose.” and everything to gain, unlike the captain where it obscurely washed over him as his wrists were not the ones bound, “You’re a risk.” the singular tainted key to the desired lock, all or nothing.
@asynjja : ❛ sorry, didn’t want to push any sore spots. ❜ src.
𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇, 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍, and nothing more was pushed. Familial combatants after their blatant starting without so much of a look back found it to suffice with their mumbles behind vocoders at the sights — of the stranger. Painless to conjure a mutual ground, assumptions tended to backfire at the mere subtle suspicion, it was best not to frighten the mice away from bait, should it sprawl and pitter patter away upon false claws. Inquiry delivered in timely tempo was up to snuff, and subsequently provided reason enough to glare past stygian glass with only narrowed brows paired with accustomed tightened jaws. Were others to witness the features wouldn’t have assisted the communality that allowed interlopers to set course to their sector. Wavered eyes lingered above, below, and ever more in between, this was no place for “You didn’t.” darkened iris glanced over the woman, rather DECISIVE in selection without so much of a sigle, emblem of any kind to dictate allegiance of any collective, suppose a stray have no harm and taste of temporary mercy in gift of answer.
Weaponry so seamlessly discrete lowered by limited factor of time, and graced the unknown without a scratch. Brethren behind tall and taught with simmered in the passive inquisition — a time it had been since the last encounter. The regiment in blared crimson lights along deafening sirens in intrusion to eventual traitor, rebellion against TITANS would label failure should vipers be granted more freedom than they could swallow. Mistakes of such breath wouldn’t be bestowed his likeliness, regardless the likes of a soldier, again. “Unless you have clearance to the garrison you best be quick, you’re wasting my time.” helm veered in controlled motion, but not as humane as he would have portrayed without it. It stayed secure as well as it should in tandem to this phantom’s undisclosed title.
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒, as easily they come to the skin of natural borns. The nose of little ones pressed up against the chilled tempered glass of homes soldiers marched pass without so much of a glance, as their minds flooded with fatal curiosity to a time if this would no longer be the norm. The boomed sounds of erupted earth from only a few meters below as the paired arms of their protectors, pray in early mourning for the rain of smolder to spare them the seconds of future. Priority for the faceless lied upon the leaders, COMMANDERS into their prime would be treated as such in tandem to the innocent. Title always in question, but never spoken. Each campaign an inescapable test, as it would dictate them all, no one was immune to burden as it snuck beneath each layers effortlessly.
He was no stranger to the atypical humility between the soldiers and their leaders, either confident in the ebb and flow, or simply not. Togrutan comrade herself entwined within unspoken balance of instinct and EXPERIENCE. Nothing could compare the faint yet twisted similarities that struck the chords of the one beside cobalt pauldron. Captain wouldn’t dare lie — not this time. Should there be preachers of balance it wouldn’t be found nor forged in the realm of this particular scientific marvel, they would carry this trammel without freight, without question. An honor it was, and they swallow it with utmost pride, in hushed hopes it landed its liberation upon those more capable. If it not someone trustworthy from the direction of duo esteemed generals, phrases that wreaked of soon to be rotten and forgotten flesh of servicemen would bestow a leverage point for her uncriticizable efforts. Or cog in the black tar pipe, perception was ever so binary.
Combat without a shred of doubt was etched with something far more peculiar in the natural of this young one’s curiosity. It burned yet tamed through forced stifles. He’d seen this before, through much practice and more developed intact of blunt — human emotion, “I know.” captain skewed stygian visors at her reckoning in deepened baritone, and then his name used in a twinge. The tone held in cautious dive, as if walked on thin threaded tightrope it was breathtaking. It wasn’t a FALSEHOOD she insisted, she knew. Time made itself short as it loved to control the windows of the eye, who was he to judge the massive leap such kin were to thrive in chaos, it fortunately wasn’t his to ponder. Trauma tolerated plates shifted only slightly more adjacent toward the jedi’s grey sleeved shoulder, naturally laced with sand as he came to know this one. A flash of sprouted green in the dunes. She painfully hoped, as it would always be left in consequence.
Were her allies, brothers, in clads of white and black armor be in unstable fear of something as savory as CHANGE, was she not Her delay in the seconds that fleeted, spoke more than stitched lips in measured beats before confession far from the likes of his grasp. Pebbles could be eroded back smoother into the stream before the seasonal torrent, as he was here now, scuffed boots would kiss the gravel beneath but in commander’s uplift for something more tangible, and in sight. “Everything, everyone is temporary.” jaws remained clenched to taste the flagrant phrase, yet offered no such feature. Who said a life itself, her own, hadn’t bore the right to something good within galactic bloodbaths, “You will no longer need us, in time. In the end — someone will hold all the cards.”
it’s not the first blaster pointed at him & it certainly wouldn’t be the last. his helmet prohibited anyone from seeing the expression on his features, the resting look of irritation as he stared at the older man. beskar would serve him well should the other decide that he was feeling trigger happy, his own finger itching for the weight of his own in his hand, to even out the playing field. he supposed it didn’t really matter. the kid’s out of sight & he’s gotten through worst than someone past their prime, sticking their nose in places it didn’t need to be.
“you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” the mandalorian warned the other, gloved hands half - raised. “you might want to put that down.”
𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, nothing out of the ordinary with scuffed and tallied plated arm raised with trained sable laced fingers should the other finally decide upon a counter move. Brows narrowed all the same despite such blatant unknowns, this one of beskar shell passed the winged eyes of KRYZE, a distant yet faint trace of the grey cloaked comrade followed suit should the stranger benefit the likes of obliterated kin. Pursue of the grey cloaked wouldn’t be loosened without so much of a struggle, something as palpable of gestured weapon — obstacles meat to be eradicated.
“I’ll be the JUDGE of that — ” and so the clone would be whilst baritone lowered where the chest vibrated. Visor glass to another the kind was unmistakable, a temporary note beside mental manifest, inquiry instead delivered toward the stranger’s subtle yet aggravated defense, “where is she.”
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑, only to never understand without a substantial answer to their endless questions. Commander demoted knew this distinctly, its branded mark panged with white flashes when slumber was deepest, should he ever tip near it. This was done before, awoken to the familiar ring of blaster rain, but with a taste of himself in the most foul way. All in defense and sense of clarity, one would merely stick to what rendered them comfortable, and at their best. Commander in quick eventual abandonment, had sought to that, his help and mere DATA PURGE. Wrists still tied by the faded cloak she wore, he no longer saw. Soldiers so loyal in utmost question, there was no denying the logic they stood resolute by, for the republic that rendered his short lived purpose, this was the granted gift, and passed down it would be through sliced lacerations. Rare as it was for the minds of whom all he had witnessed in atypical batch, trust along belief had yet to resurface. They shouldn’t have been breathing the same, lungs in perfect harmony to cloaked conductor. And yet band of brothers in perplexment, how were veteran’s answer be any more reasonable when expectations were out of their means, his own mind a binary switch toyed to watch the sea of white scramble into the machine code they were designed for.
It was now, little one wouldn’t feel the difference. The churn of minds and stomachs alike, now in bliss removal. For that real change, was ever so — SURGICAL. Captain’s sable fingers pressed against charcoal shoulder, an appearance upon the body that adorned legion’s cobalt. A time, a lie never to return. Down down down the enforced pressure applied to reel spine of the other atop and parallel of inspection bench. The other just below the rim and out of sight, anesthesia syringe gripped with screamed ease between fingers. The priceless transparent liquid, this would save them. Former ARC the last as each distinct phase repeated the final stand, last domino would very well uphold the line. Even his own. Hardened eyes, lines that crossed the man’s face studied the younger, armor of unique making, no remnant of azure but of skulled metaphors. Yet this, was no burial. And neither had the intention been to create another cavity to the blood soaked soils that wreaked of smolder. Dried lips closed the hidden grip of exposed features, as brows continued their narrow from at the HUNG man by wires conjured the means to metallic arm. Prosthetic in its glory, and marks to decorate the armor alike his own. The heart strings ignored and burned into acidic stomach, lowly king under the profile of mantle, four cardinal digits on broken record, was all that was left from a broken ruined mind.
Fingers time lapsed across the shoulder plate, crimson plate with gentle scratches might have once caused a swarm and painful swell of pride. Yet it hushed, mouth stitched together as nasal pipes conducted bodily breaths to feed the starved lungs. Eyes feasted on a figure easier though dead, alike the army he had hoped for, no face recognizable. Silence hung with mockery, where years of utter absence now bitterly repaid, hazel IRIS found the gaze that found the captain for minutes on unknown end, “Relax, ner vod.” phrase finally forged from the depths of the void below, somewhere vacant that stabbed his chest time and time again. long story untold toward the band, would only speak synopsis for the action that hoped to redeem only the fraction he knew was barely obtainable. And that offered contentment. Throat spoke hoarse out helmless, no visors nor stygian vocoder to infringe baritone voice to slope down static, this surfaced out from a place less chilled. Palm enclosed with pressure with the remains of man to machine, a suppressed fear he no doubt questioned and wouldn’t dare address. “I’m HERE.” and hadn’t planned on abandoning someone worthwhile, by necessity.
𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐋, lungs ballooned to slim narrow arrowhead truth, it was ever more sublime. Drive for unknown redemption, to graze the look alikes with a bland aftertaste no honest answer uttered. Unlike the sweetness, CARNIVOROUS crave for blood that no longer dithered metallic, the time of peacekeepers sealed in toxic waste behind black out curtains, never to shred a fragment of illuminated blades — save the few. Likes of the oddity, bad batchers, only a fool would expect the description to come from a heart so unique. No, how dangerously naïve. Malicious eyes, gentle eyes upon easier skin, bit theirs without the intent of laying their livelihood in unity. Distinctive, peculiar, idiosyncratic, brothers. It was fate’s track that now barrel of sniper’s own had expressed much of the alternative. Demons, competitors, adversary, copies. Details from latest recruit prove it much so, outcasts of the highest degree within the sea of their own cells. Their legs, not their own, “Guess you figured me out.” blame it on the evocations, really. Marked in statement, and never in opposing interference of inquiry, it was better in calmed fluidity. By one whom sought precise movement from the farthest distance, what did that make a reg filled with this churned festered revelation ?
Lie this time captain would not, the turned still placed their righteous respect in pumping organ. Soldiers the galaxy’s critical constant. Mass produced for singular purpose, and it was nothing but crimson splatters. For order, for future eras, for peace. Blinding the cause was, it provided contentment, a sense of grounded force — lawful GRAVITY. Visors twisted in agile motion, a creak in turn by aged joints. Dry eyes were accompanied with the ease of brows from their supposed narrowed permanence, a dignified stance the sharpshooter stated, as the legion leader would only concur, “Soon — ” a fatal comfort blanket not so cautiously slithered around this collared neck, and it tugged the fleeted air from desperate spoiled lungs. LIBERATION to the indifferent, perhaps a future for the atypical brethren, for the brethren left to exterminate, it created sense, for that they were designed for the opposition. Better they might have been, deleted from the flawed system, “We’ll be history.”
Battle scars, each one a silent tale no eyes can read, no ear to listen. Caught in the middle, they fought on the deep end, and no where else called their presence. Mutations so distinguished, captain held no ground, sensation of familiarity lost once unshackled, the short CICATRIX that genetic confidants obtained. Mark of passage to flickered trust. A self made inquisition of banded brothers to salvage the lost one, beside himself tall, and found. Their mark of passage to trust, yet as the batcher spoke it was generosity more than possibly swallowed. Regs against their kind branded away names as numbers seared their units, cobalt painted soldier was no different. Was it not for the charcoal selection, memories might have rendered a strange order of permanence. Helm veered away for the ached glance for the men below, little specs so insignificant alike the mockery batchers sustained. Why had his mouth tasted — nothing? “You talk like we had a CHOICE.” should it come from anyone, brilliant eye shot had already digested truth of standard issue, “I wanted — that control.”
Truth it was, in the moment. To witness its after effects was worse than grave merely postponed, as the sniper’s bitter tone was never misplaced. Not here, not now. In favor for distant echo this slice of benevolence would be offered without a pull of plated arm, no strikes to be given. Instead the exchange of empty plates to vacant stomachs with chilled, harsh critique. Even through aggression, it was a language he was far more familiar with, it distinguished the men who followed with contentment, or lack thereof. Man of distance, captain was yet sure enough to follow through, a nature unlike the cobalt followers that soon fell with numbers and without chromes. What rendered any one of them remotely important? Mere humane compassion, or short lived servitude. To each their own. Strangely mirrored, batchers of their own GUILD plunged into depths of the same unknown. Stripped of what they knew, nothing left but to fend what was uselessly pieced together — perhaps it was just him. Long ranged soldier had indeed, owned every intent to stick to better numbers, better names. For that, blame shriveled upon its birthplace.
It came and went, the linger of little ARC of his own choosing, a place more home than what captain had ever hoped to guarantee. Crosshair, was of those entrusted, without a doubt it was the fewest decisions that seemed to last — through the worst. Young one alive, now with attached companions there sprouted a blood bond sacred enough to tug down the chest of disgraced legion leader. Ties of brethren, not to be experienced, but profoundly content in having WITNESSED the band in spark of unparalleled unison. Despite setbacks, not one left behind — not for long. So far so good, no other grave party to delve into silence. Not again, veteran vowed without the need of torrent mount of promise. A captain, a stronghold assigned by the elite leaders of genome donor’s homeworld, this was his fault to no end. Helm yet caught the stance of sniper behind the aim. Rigid and taught, Rex loomed the space and rendered the distance shorter. Front and center neck already straightened and nullified the air with the silence that held, and awaited report both patiently awaited. Acts of opposed soldier would continue as always, without captain’s intervention.
Sea of white stole attentive focus by the eyes, cobalt marks of Mandalorian JAI’GALAAR, entrusted to live on through the presence of most noteworthy men of their time. “How many — ” followed the curse of sharpshooter. Navy outlined kamas bristled again slightly, not by wind but more so by shift in weight by hips, “Ultreekov.” captain inquired with new found distaste for the line of alternative integrated soldier. From protectors to Death troopers, yet it was some smoke and mirror, what was the difference in their sheer purpose there was little to mention. It whispered a name in the winds, a man worth a portion of the mind years for bygone era. It rattled but quivered not the legion leader by any fraction. Without question the existence of this officer tied the tongue of WILL itself, where men with no conscious bent knees to command, from one once so just.
Slow subtle repeat dared not eye for allied VOD, for that another was in the charge, “Commander — ” Helm’s uplift directed parallel by batcher’s aim without mention of denomination in hinted exhausted mutter, and never faltered. Months of gruled search, perhaps this way evening of judgement. Brother would be free, nightmares to an end. “Don’t loose sight of him.” their advantage lied in the trigger finger of the batcher, this was not a chance worth losing.
𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 beside the commander, strategized rational of the campaign superseded neophyte officers. Those that found themselves either cowardly or comfortable in their high seats, lived up to nothing. Poise resolute, parade rest in tandem of the superior by few deci - grades, soldier so discretely close in years of servitude as paradigms shifted beneath ancient plastoids. Spoke only when spoken to, narrowed brows all the same in sublime focus “Lord VADER and my unit — ” baritone began flat and offered no curb in pitch as gaze had not left the map of “failed to tail the insurgents through Concord Dawn.” bitterness swept the silver lines and ever more so articulated.
“No further instruction — ” subordinate commander barely offered a veer to the corner of the stygian visor, no mood to tolerate any more criticism than what was already received by esteemed admirals, for that there was always more to “unless you received word from the GOVERNER.” the lead by Tarkin thus far the few figureheads able to tactically navigate the premises.