[The feed flickers on, which shows nothing at first. Oddly enough, it’s the inside of the altar room ov Vector Prime. Maybe someone had left their--

But there’s a flash of orange eyes. They only flicker in the feed for a fleeting moment. In another flicker, there’s something peering down into the device, a nose prodding it. It looks to be a a dog of a robotic nature.]

A communication device… [The dog’s eyes brighten and fade with every word and he lifts a red paw up to reposition the object.]

Calling Brave Police, this is Shadowmaru. [He lifts his head, ears alert as he hears something off in the distance. Thankfully it was one of the acolytes. The BP Unit relaxes.]

I am low on fuel. I’m not quite sure if this place even has fuel, but. I’ll try my best for the time being.

If anyone else can hear this, I will try my best to send my coordinates. I read other signatures here, but I’m not familiar with any of them. [His head perks up again, orange optics wary.]

Again, this is Shadowmaru, calling for the Brave Police. If anyone could give me their location, it would be appreciated.

[He then races off screen, the device jostling before shutting off.]

[ So lately, Shepard's been cleaning house. Cleaning up where she's living, cleaning up an area for her established plan of 'recreational area for smaller scaled citizens (i.e. a place to hit things) as well as trying to clear her mind. Cardboard lfoors lined the area she deemed her new sparring room, not AS soft as plush matting, but it would do. Her guns? Shiny and clean, even the tar buildup in the mouth of her heavy pistol has been scraped and polished clean.

But when her armory is cleaner than a first year cadet's, and the area is as prepped as you can get it without equipment, Shepard has nothing left but her mind. And a mind is a horrible place to be stuck in. She's anxious, restless, and the thought of having some of her crew here was endearing, comforting, at first. But now, it began to grate on her nerves; the fact that her own were stuck here with her, and the mission wasn't done.

Being planetside has finally, really taken it's toll on her. ]

There's only so much ammo I can waste before I really run out.

[ She's popped up on the feed, her hair now long enough to keep in a side ponytail. Per usual, she looks exasperated. The only thing close to keeping her looking similar to a pile of varren crap is the new necklace she seems to be sporting, above her dog tags; an illuminated crystal, with a cord wrapped around it to keep it secure. ]

Cardboard floors laid down where the recreational area might stay. Still have to talk to some friends in other places about a shooting range. If anyone would like to shoot some ideas at me for this thing, that'd be great. I'm drawing a blank.

...If anyone has any ideas on how to keep a planetside space marine from tearing her hair out? Those would be great too.

[Locked to SG Ratchet]

Give it back.

[Locked to medics/doctors--except Pharma]

Now that I'm a little more... stabilized... I don't want to go into details over the link. In person would be better. I just want to issue a warning: stay away from Pharma. He's not done anything wrong in this world--at least, not enough to warrant an arrest or murder charges--and I realize I can't exactly keep him out of the clinics, but... When you're around him, be on guard. He's dangerous, and utterly psychotic, more than I--than most of us imagined. And I wouldn't be surprised if he randomly snapped and attacked any of you. Watch him closely around patients, and just... [He's very, very infuriated at being helpless here.] Please. Just take my word on this.

I have been scarce, but... I'll be at Solus's medbay soon.

[Locked to McCrane and Blurr]

May I ask the status of Tarn and Kaon?