Lockshot
(#78316915)
[he doesn't necessarily look angry. just... empty.]
Caliber
Scroll Stealer
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Shadow.
Male Imperial
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
23.86 m
Wingspan
24.45 m
Weight
6676.62 kg
Genetics
Garnet
Metallic
Metallic
Garnet
Constellation
Constellation
Sanguine
Spines
Spines
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Imperial
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Biography
> PERSONNEL FILExxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxRECEIPTS
...setting...eventually...
The Kaldu'arii senator was clearly eyeing his helmet, which was painted Coruscant guard red, and included the addition of a red crosshair plastered on his forehead.
Well, more specifically, she was likely wondering about the jagged scar that tore over the entirety of his face. She'd seen it when they were doing security checks amongst those entering, and he'd seen her eyes widen.
She shuffled herself slightly before opening her mouth, but clearly faltered, as nothing came out.
Caliber and Trace hadn't budged from their positions near him and the senator, but Lockshot could tell that they were apprehensive under their helmets.
"I got a bottle dragged over my face." Lockshot grunted, readjusting his DC-15s, which rested lightly on his chest. Better to just get it over with; it was always risky to talk to senators, but he especially didn't want a possibly temperamental one ******** to a superior that a clone had "disrespected" her or some idiotic thing like that for not giving up information.
Realistically, Lockshot could be dinged for even speaking; the guard isn't a talking job. The Corries weren't supposed to even interact with the senators unless they were saving their lives.
That was made clear after the Caliber incident. ...Caliber got his face slammed into the floor for trying to hand an extremely temperamental senators forgotten lapel to them. Lockshot had to help him clean his bloodied face and fix his broken nose since Caliber didn't want to bother an already overworked Skirmish.
There was no injury report. Nothing would have come from it anyway.
She just nodded, looking uncomfortable, and started to stare the floor down. Some of her people were supposed to pick her up from the hall in the capitol, but so far they hadn't. Lockshot hopes they can hurry themselves; its boring and stuffy in this place, and he has reports to help register.
The guard is supposed to, well, guard -- silently. They were not chosen out of all their batchmates and brothers to speak or make smalltalk. They are sentinels, protectors, bodyguards of sorts. Chosen specifically.
Lockshot hates it; being chosen to be stationed on Coruscant. All of his batchmates got to go into the field, serve under Jedi, do what they were bred for. They died out there, in the field. A thousand, million miles away. All horribly. It was a war, after all; and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have nightmares of how Pocks head was split open or how Sprints body was half gone when he was found by Tick, who would also die soon after.
But Lockshot was just wasting away here; suffering amongst stuck up senators who were trying to either defund his brothers and their cause or progress this godawful war.
The senator had resigned herself to picking at some gold thread braids that were tied around her head tails and horns. She moved to sit on a bench, and the three of them trailed her, then rested on either side of the bench.
At least most of the guard was... respectful? Quiet, rarely speaking in the barracks, but mostly not aggressive. Aside Splice, Fist, an a few others scattered about, who... frankly needed to calm down before their belligerence got them decommissioned. But it's not like Lockshot couldn't understand their short tempers; the amount of **** they had to do, deal with, and bear was insane.
So he always gave Fist some extra room, and Splice an extra caf when it was available. He knew where they were coming from; Lockshot just went... barren, instead of angry.
And Coruscant was obviously a tense place to be stationed; Lockshot isnt exactly flowers and sunshine either. Getting stabbed once every few months because a criminal had a bad day and getting heckled for doing your job wasn't exactly good for the psyche, plus... serving directly under Palpatines boot was not exactly beneficial for anything.
They were good brothers, though -- the guard. Despite a lot of frostiness and paranoia, there were friendly slaps and jokes, and they had good times at 79s as long as they didnt go whenever another batalion was on leave.
Some troopers were not... understanding, of what happened on Coruscant. Thought it a cushy job, being military police, where if someone isn't throwing **** at you or heckling you they're running or cowering. Its not like its a good job, they're just more likely to get stuck with dirty needles and rusted knives than a droids blaster bolt.
But still, Lockshot could understand the resentment. So he stayed away. His batchmates were already dead, anyways, and he didn't exactly have any good friends outside the guard.
Trace, Caliber, sometimes Skirmish, Volt, Harbor, and on a rare night Fist and Splice when they were calm, were some of the few who went out on their scheduled day. There wasn't a lot of time off, so they had to "ration" days they had free or break on, and everyone got one or two nights detailed to them and agroup of other brothers.
Lockshots as tired as they are, if not more; he's an older clone. Sometimes he wonders how long this war will last. Wonders what'll happen to him when he gets too old. If he gets too old; thinking he'd survive long enough to age out is a bit ridiculous.
Lockshots eyes are drawn quickly to the entrance, where the doors are openeing. He can feel himself quickly gearing up, but luckily its just the massiff patrols and a rather heavily protected Kaldu'arii. The male Kaldu'arii has five guards on him, which likely means he's fairly important.
The female Kaldu'arii senator they're protecting is approached by the male Kaldu'arii, and Lockshot stiffly backs up as Caliber and Trace do.
/Confirmed/ he signs minutely, a question, not a statement, to the men surrounding the male Kaldu'arii. He is responded to immediately by Volt -- one of the clones who is with the male Kaldu'arii -- with /Affirmative/.
If they'd allowed an unconfirmed person anywhere near the building, much less this close to another senator, they'd probably be-- not treated well. So it was kind of obvious that he was confirmed here to pick the female Kaldu'arii up, but it was always good to double check; a reassurance, really, and it's not like Volt was ever annoyed by Lockshots questioning of protocol they'd made habit of years ago.
They stay at attention, and keep their heads slightly angled to the ceiling as the man collects the girl.
"Thank you," she says with a small smile as she leaves. Casts a gentle, senatorial wave their way. "I hope your days only get easier."
The clones who are tailing them -- security -- don't respond -- they're on duty, have to be alert -- but Trace, Caliber, and Lockshot salute quickly.
As soon as the heavy doors close, the young innocence she had brought to the room evaporated, and Lockshot and maybe the others, too, can feel the darkness of Coruscant pulling them under again.
Sometimes he can feel black tendrils in his head.
Something dark and creeping entering his veins.
Yellow eyes. A hood. Crooked, spindly fingers.
They make him do things he doesn't want to.
Coerce. Persuade. Force.
-would hate for something to happen to your squad, CT-2347-
-do you really think that's wise-
Something is terribly wrong on Coruscant. But none of them... can grasp what.
| xxx |
 DESIGNATION CALLSIGN
“Lockshot”
Locker CURRENT ASSGN. JEDI [NON APPLICABLE] BATCH NUMBER CT-2370 HOMEWORLD Kamino BORN 32 BBY RANK Sergeant, Shock Trooper SPECIES Human SEX/PRONOUNS Male, he/him AFFILIATIONS Galactic Republic, N/A Legion, Hawk-bat Squad |
[medical history, battles fought, fights/skirmishes, instances of "disobedience" etc] |
absolutely unfinished, unedited wrote:
...setting...eventually...
The Kaldu'arii senator was clearly eyeing his helmet, which was painted Coruscant guard red, and included the addition of a red crosshair plastered on his forehead.
Well, more specifically, she was likely wondering about the jagged scar that tore over the entirety of his face. She'd seen it when they were doing security checks amongst those entering, and he'd seen her eyes widen.
She shuffled herself slightly before opening her mouth, but clearly faltered, as nothing came out.
Caliber and Trace hadn't budged from their positions near him and the senator, but Lockshot could tell that they were apprehensive under their helmets.
"I got a bottle dragged over my face." Lockshot grunted, readjusting his DC-15s, which rested lightly on his chest. Better to just get it over with; it was always risky to talk to senators, but he especially didn't want a possibly temperamental one ******** to a superior that a clone had "disrespected" her or some idiotic thing like that for not giving up information.
Realistically, Lockshot could be dinged for even speaking; the guard isn't a talking job. The Corries weren't supposed to even interact with the senators unless they were saving their lives.
That was made clear after the Caliber incident. ...Caliber got his face slammed into the floor for trying to hand an extremely temperamental senators forgotten lapel to them. Lockshot had to help him clean his bloodied face and fix his broken nose since Caliber didn't want to bother an already overworked Skirmish.
There was no injury report. Nothing would have come from it anyway.
She just nodded, looking uncomfortable, and started to stare the floor down. Some of her people were supposed to pick her up from the hall in the capitol, but so far they hadn't. Lockshot hopes they can hurry themselves; its boring and stuffy in this place, and he has reports to help register.
The guard is supposed to, well, guard -- silently. They were not chosen out of all their batchmates and brothers to speak or make smalltalk. They are sentinels, protectors, bodyguards of sorts. Chosen specifically.
Lockshot hates it; being chosen to be stationed on Coruscant. All of his batchmates got to go into the field, serve under Jedi, do what they were bred for. They died out there, in the field. A thousand, million miles away. All horribly. It was a war, after all; and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have nightmares of how Pocks head was split open or how Sprints body was half gone when he was found by Tick, who would also die soon after.
But Lockshot was just wasting away here; suffering amongst stuck up senators who were trying to either defund his brothers and their cause or progress this godawful war.
The senator had resigned herself to picking at some gold thread braids that were tied around her head tails and horns. She moved to sit on a bench, and the three of them trailed her, then rested on either side of the bench.
At least most of the guard was... respectful? Quiet, rarely speaking in the barracks, but mostly not aggressive. Aside Splice, Fist, an a few others scattered about, who... frankly needed to calm down before their belligerence got them decommissioned. But it's not like Lockshot couldn't understand their short tempers; the amount of **** they had to do, deal with, and bear was insane.
So he always gave Fist some extra room, and Splice an extra caf when it was available. He knew where they were coming from; Lockshot just went... barren, instead of angry.
And Coruscant was obviously a tense place to be stationed; Lockshot isnt exactly flowers and sunshine either. Getting stabbed once every few months because a criminal had a bad day and getting heckled for doing your job wasn't exactly good for the psyche, plus... serving directly under Palpatines boot was not exactly beneficial for anything.
They were good brothers, though -- the guard. Despite a lot of frostiness and paranoia, there were friendly slaps and jokes, and they had good times at 79s as long as they didnt go whenever another batalion was on leave.
Some troopers were not... understanding, of what happened on Coruscant. Thought it a cushy job, being military police, where if someone isn't throwing **** at you or heckling you they're running or cowering. Its not like its a good job, they're just more likely to get stuck with dirty needles and rusted knives than a droids blaster bolt.
But still, Lockshot could understand the resentment. So he stayed away. His batchmates were already dead, anyways, and he didn't exactly have any good friends outside the guard.
Trace, Caliber, sometimes Skirmish, Volt, Harbor, and on a rare night Fist and Splice when they were calm, were some of the few who went out on their scheduled day. There wasn't a lot of time off, so they had to "ration" days they had free or break on, and everyone got one or two nights detailed to them and agroup of other brothers.
Lockshots as tired as they are, if not more; he's an older clone. Sometimes he wonders how long this war will last. Wonders what'll happen to him when he gets too old. If he gets too old; thinking he'd survive long enough to age out is a bit ridiculous.
Lockshots eyes are drawn quickly to the entrance, where the doors are openeing. He can feel himself quickly gearing up, but luckily its just the massiff patrols and a rather heavily protected Kaldu'arii. The male Kaldu'arii has five guards on him, which likely means he's fairly important.
The female Kaldu'arii senator they're protecting is approached by the male Kaldu'arii, and Lockshot stiffly backs up as Caliber and Trace do.
/Confirmed/ he signs minutely, a question, not a statement, to the men surrounding the male Kaldu'arii. He is responded to immediately by Volt -- one of the clones who is with the male Kaldu'arii -- with /Affirmative/.
If they'd allowed an unconfirmed person anywhere near the building, much less this close to another senator, they'd probably be-- not treated well. So it was kind of obvious that he was confirmed here to pick the female Kaldu'arii up, but it was always good to double check; a reassurance, really, and it's not like Volt was ever annoyed by Lockshots questioning of protocol they'd made habit of years ago.
They stay at attention, and keep their heads slightly angled to the ceiling as the man collects the girl.
"Thank you," she says with a small smile as she leaves. Casts a gentle, senatorial wave their way. "I hope your days only get easier."
The clones who are tailing them -- security -- don't respond -- they're on duty, have to be alert -- but Trace, Caliber, and Lockshot salute quickly.
As soon as the heavy doors close, the young innocence she had brought to the room evaporated, and Lockshot and maybe the others, too, can feel the darkness of Coruscant pulling them under again.
Something dark and creeping entering his veins.
Yellow eyes. A hood. Crooked, spindly fingers.
They make him do things he doesn't want to.
Coerce. Persuade. Force.
-would hate for something to happen to your squad, CT-2347-
-do you really think that's wise-
Something is terribly wrong on Coruscant. But none of them... can grasp what.
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