#*angry 9904 noises*

[momojedi]

Crosshair being legitimately the baby brother of the Batch always makes me giggle, my man is just peak youngest sibling behaviour.

[jessiebanethedragon]

Commander?

Summary: Reader ('Mech') Is a member of CT-9904's unit and is sent to Ryloth instead of fighting with the insurgents. If only either of them could figure out why he made that call...

basically empire Crosshair is falling in love with the reader and is fighting with the chip's influence, the reader is falling as well. This is what happens when she see's the aftermath of the engine injuries.

Warnings: the reader gets choked, but not like in that way, reader is mean to crosshair, crosshair is mean to reader (ie neither of them know how feelings work)

Ryloth is grossly humid, you hate the way it feels with your plastoid armor on. The dark colour of it and your blacks underneath certainly don’t help either. And the fact that you’re still seething over your delegation has your teeth so clenched it hurts. Senator Taa is driving you insane as well, the fact that you’re playing the part that any trooper could be is driving you insane.

You didn’t get the nickname Mech for nothing. The modified electrostaff that hangs on your hip is evidence of that. The pop of your knuckles out of boredom has Syndulla and his clone looking at you.

“Something to say? Admiral Rampart asks with a glare. The kind that makes you stand straighter and fall in formation. When an answer doesn’t come from behind your helmet he sighs before adding. “You’re dismissed.”

Back in your sorry excuse for barracks, your armor is thrown against the wall. Starting with the stuffy helmet, the sound it makes when it hits the stone isn’t enough to satisfy your anger. So as you strip off each piece of the remaining plastoid it too, meets the interior of the Ryloth cave.

Screw him. Screw your commander. Screw the nerf herding Clone that sent you here. You hate him, you hate the way he speaks to you. Like he’s always looking for a weakness. You hate being here playing guard dog while they chase down the insurgents. And what you hate the most is the insecurity that lingers in your mind.

Why didn’t he think I was good enough?

You were the only one left behind, the only one sent to Ryloth ahead of time. Perhaps for one too many snarky comments. Perhaps because he doubted your abilities.

You’re so angry you go as far as striping out of the empire regulated blacks and into your civilian clothes. Which largely consists of your old baggy tactical pants that are so worn down the hues of your favorite colour are faded. But you still stuff the pants into your combat boots anyways. The top is less top-like and more like a piece of fabric that is long enough to turn into some kind of thing resembling clothing. It’s not exactly high Naboo fashion, but it’s a hell of a lot less warm than your kriffing armor.

You take to fixing the scope of his sniper rifle. You’re tempted to leave it broken, Maker knows how it happened in the first place. But you’re desperate for a distraction, a challenge, anything to take away the sting of being left behind. It gets fixed all too quickly, and you have to resort to tinkering with the calibrations in order to pass the time.

The door opens with a whoosh and the Commander and the rest of your team find you lounging with your feet up, scope in hand looking positively annoyed. Everyone tenses when you lazily get up, and walk over to them without saluting.

“That doesn't look like your uniform to me.” He says, the anger crackling through the helmet. And while everyone else has taken their helmets off, you can see them hesitate.

“Well considering the planet's demilitarizing, it didn’t look like it needed a commando to me.” You snap, the week of annoyance coming to fruition all at once.

“What did you just say to me?” He asks, stepping closer and bunching his fists. Your hand goes to your electrostaff, and his to his blaster. Weighing your options, you decide not to sign your death warrant today. Instead you reach into your pocket and grab the newly fixed scope. Not passing up the change to shove it into his chest.

The second your hand collides with the pastoid he moves like lightning. The scope clatters to the ground adding to the noises of surprise that your comrades make. Some of them move to help you, but think better of it. By the time your brain catches up your back has already hit the wall, a durasteel hand around your neck.

“Apologise.” He grits out. The green visor burning out your retina, and your hands scratching at his vambrace. You splutter around the hand, and he lets up a little. Just a little. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say the two simple words.

“I take it you failed to catch them then?” You say instead. And the hand tightens again, making you slap his forearms, he doesn't let up and somewhere your brain registers someone gasping:

“He’s going to kill Mech!” And with that, you collide with the floor. One hand bracing yourself and keeping you off the actual ground, and the other cradling the tender skin.

“You three. Out.” He snaps, and the sounds of footsteps rush out the door. Looking up at the Commander, you see the helmet watch your comrades hustle out, before he moves further into the barracks. Collecting a jug of water and a singular cup. Clutching both in one hand, he uses his other to haul you up. Still gasping you try to struggle.

“Calm down.” He says plainly. “I’m not going to hurt you”

“I think you understand why I'm not inclined to believe that.” You wheeze out, as he leads you to one of the beds and makes you sit on it. Before pouring water into the cup, and hesitantly handing it to you.

“Drink.” he barely gets the word out before you’re snatching the substance from him and gulping it down. You cover yourself in it but you don't really care. Pausing to catch your breath again, the fog begins to clear.

“No toothpick?” You mean to tease, but when you ask he walks away from you. That's when you catch it. There’s a piece of his armor that's discoloured from the rest. Not so much that it needed replacing, but enough for you to notice. “Commander?” You ask, and watch him shake his head ever so slightly. Only turning back when he hears you get up and stagger towards him.

“Sit back down. You’re injured.” He winces slightly at the sentence. Almost like there's a part of him that hates himself for hurting you. Funnily enough it's the same part that convinced him not to let you on that mission.

“I think you are too.” You admit softly. “Let me see.” You push. And he grumbles and mumbles before taking his helmet off.

His hair has been shaved off - even shorter than it was before. But that's not what catches your eye. What you stare at is the gaping injury on the back left side of his head. And the way he scrunches his nose and turns away shows you something you’ve never seen from him before.

Fragility, fear, embarrassment and maybe a multitude of other emotions fly across his face. When he opens his mouth to say something your brain kicks into gear.

“Sit down. Let me tend to it.” You demand. He tries to protest.

“That's not-” “Just let me see it.”

“I’m fine-” “You need bacta.” You’re still trying to lead him into sitting down, and he tries to argue more before finally giving in.

“I was cleared from the medbay you know.” He grumbles, and part of your soul does cartwheels when he listens to you and does actually sit down. And you almost like to think you’re the only person who he does listen to.

There aren't nearly enough bacta strips to double wrap the area like you wanted, but it’ll do until you can restock at a proper Imperial medbay.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been this close to each other, and it isn’t even the first time you’ve touched the commander's face. The first and only other time was in the depths of space. Everyone else was passed out in exhaustion after mission after mission. But you two, neither of you could sleep. And you could see the scrunch in his brow of anxiety and pent up adrenalin. And somehow, some miracle happened and after much convincing, you sat on the floor of some hallway, and he let you rub calming circles into his temple. You can still feel the way his hands held onto your forearms gently, like he was afraid you’d hurt him, or maybe he was afraid you wouldn't hurt him. Or maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to hold you.

“I should’ve been there.” You whisper while dressing the wound. It probably looks worse than it is but guilt is still eating you alive.

“You were where you needed to be.” He states. Taking his gloves off while you move from behind, to beside him as you finish with the bacta. Still analysing the wound and the rest of his face. He almost wants to smile, they didn’t call you Mech for nothing.

“Why did you send me away?” You ask. Closing your eyes when you feel a hand come up and caress your face. It's so gentle it’s almost like it's not there at all. Your heart feels like it's exploding with each beat. Why did this always happen between the two of you, why were you like magnets for each other.

And why did he always have to push you away after?

“I’m sorry,” He tells you when he grazes over your neck. “For that,” another swipe of a gentle hand. “But not for sending you here. Evidently I made the right call.” Fingers rest under your chin, tilting it up. When your eyes open, his are finding the part of you that you worked so hard to bury.

“You should be. It kriffing hurts.” You try to joke, to hide your feelings. But it comes out dry and cracked, a reminder of his anger moments ago.

“You learned your lesson then.” He snaps. And yet, the hand that goes to your hair is still gentle.

“Don’t leave me behind again commander. Or it’ll be the last time you see me.” It’s not a threat, but his eyes darken as if it is one.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” He hisses.

“Good thing we’re commandos then.” You shoot back. He closes his eyes and sighs, his hand leaving your face. It takes something with it, and you feel at a loss. One of your hands travels the regulated blanket that you’re sitting on, like it’s subconsciously searching for him.

Instead, he stands up and walks away.

“You should be resting.” You grumble at him, also standing up, if only to cross your arms in annoyance.

“I was cleared from the medbay.” He repeats himself, reaching for his helmet, ready to block you out again.

“Those droids clear out anything with a pulse. You need time to heal.” Hesitantly, you pad over to him, your hand stopping his when he goes to put the helmet on again. As if on instinct his other hand goes to your throat. But he stops himself when he sees the marks from before.

“This isn’t allowed.” He whispers, bucket hitting the floor. His hand moves onto your waist like a different person is in control of his motions. “I’m sorry.” He says again, fixated on the markings on your neck.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, moving closer. Sighing into his hold and the cool armor on hot skin. Looking up at your commander with blinking eyes. If someone was to walk in now, you’d most likely be executed, or exiled at the very least. But it doesn't stop his bare hands from moving, one on your hip where skin meets skin outside of imperial rules, regulation and armour. The other goes to your face again. Why does he like it so much? What is it about your face that is addictive? He tries to imagine a different face, a different person having this effect on him.

He can’t.

“No.” He says against your lips when they almost touch. And you tremble in rejection, a blank face covers the part of you that's crying. You’re so close to him, to something real, something other than war efforts or the Galactic Empire. You ignore him, and try to lean forward again, but the hand in your hair moves to place two fingers of your lips and push you back. And you know he feels your lips stutter and breath hitch as you contain a cry. His hands leave you completely as he steps away and puts his helmet back on.

“Shame.” You say bitterly, and you’re not proud of what happens next. Maybe you’re too smart, maybe you shouldn’t have read his file when you hacked into the database to find those chain codes. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him hurt you first.

“I liked seeing your tattoo.” You add, watching the helmet glare at you. “It’s a Crosshair, right?”

[superhusbands4ever]

The Chain - Chapter 2/15

Now to check in with The Bad Batch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Crosshair Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

At any moment the decision you make can change the course of your life forever.

- Tony Robbins

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hunter turned from the navicomputer to look at the young girl beside him.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes, so not much longer,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the computer. “You should go ahead and get your stuff ready for when we land.”

“Okay,” she smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I can’t wait to see Rex. I want to show him how much better I’ve gotten with my bow.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you, too. It’s been awhile.”

She nodded, skipping away to her room to gather her things.

She’d grown so much since the day the Batch met her on Kamino two and a half years ago. Sometimes Hunter wondered if maybe Omega did actually have advanced aging with how quickly she’d shot up in so short a time.

Before where the top of her head had only come up to his chest, now she was tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder when standing together (though the others teased that had more to do with his own height than Omega’s.) Her hair was longer too, down to her shoulders in a frizzy mess of blonde curls. Her face had lost some of the baby fat she’d had nearly three years ago, and she was slowly but surely looking less like the awkward child they’d saved from the Empire, and more like the young teen that she was becoming.

She’d settled into her place in their squad much more comfortably now, too. Going on supply runs and various jobs for Cid would be impossible without her — she factored into all of their plans, worked fearlessly and flawlessly with the others, and had become so proficient with her bow it made Hunter’s chest ache when he watched her.

Her confident shooting and various games on missions with Wrecker reminded him so much of their missing family member it hurt. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Crosshair at all in the two years since they’d left him on Kamino. Since he left us, he tried to remind himself. He made his choice.

Their squad worked their hardest to stay under the Empire’s radar since Tipoca City, picking and choosing jobs that weren’t too risky, that didn’t grant too much exposure. Rex was right that day on Ord Mantell — being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages. Especially when that meant the leftover bounties from the Kaminoans on Omega disappeared. From what Tech could glean from Imperial channels, as far as the Empire was concerned, the sole survivor of the destruction of Tipoca City was Commander CT-9904. The longer it stayed that way the better.

They couldn’t figure out why Crosshair would protect them, would lie and tell the Empire that they had perished in the bombardment. They thought maybe it was only a matter of time before they were caught out, before Crosshair’s anger at them got the better of him and he let it slip that they were still out there somewhere in the galaxy. But as a month turned into six, six months turned to a year, and a year turned to two with no Imperial bounties on their heads, they began to accept that maybe this was Crosshair’s last gift to them. A chance to survive the Empire, at least by him not giving them away.

Hunter would be lying if he said that knowledge hadn’t given him hope. That maybe his little brother, who’d slept in his bunk during bad storms as a cadet and gave him Lula to hold when the sensory overload got too bad, was still in there somewhere. That the cold, angry, and jaded man they’d seen on Kamino wasn’t all that was left of their kih’vod.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. As far as they knew, Crosshair was still with the Empire. And with each day as the Empire’s list of crimes and atrocities grew, Hunter’s hope for his little brother realizing his mistake and coming home to them dwindled. Maybe Tech was right. Crosshair was severe and unyielding and nothing could change that. Crosshair had made his choice.

This… is who I am.

Maybe this was who Crosshair had been all along, much as it pained him to consider.

The navicomputer beeped and pulled him from his ruminations just as the ship shuttered, dropping out of hyperspace in the Yavin system.

He stood and walked toward the cockpit, watching as the forest moon in front of them grew larger as they grew closer.

“Entering atmo shortly,” Tech announced, pressing buttons on the dash. “We should be landing at the base momentarily.”

“It’ll be good to see Rex again,” Echo said, stretching his arms above his head. “I wonder if he’s found any more clones since we were here last.”

“He seemed optimistic last time we talked,” Hunter agreed. “There were more clones than I expected there already a few months ago.”

“Rex is a proficient and effective leader,” Tech added as he brought the ship down through the clouds, “it is not surprising that he would have decent success on his mission.”

“I just wish we could help him more than doing the occasional supply drop,” Echo said. “It feels wrong to not be helping with the vode. To not be joining the fight.”

“Keeping off of the Empire's radar is more important right now,” Hunter reminded his brother for what felt like the hundredth time, “which we can’t do if we’re running rebel missions to help clones defect from the Empire.”

“I know, I know,” Echo grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. He sighed. “I just…”

Hunter laid his hand on Echo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I know.”

“Beginning landing sequence now,” Tech called as he flipped the landing gear.

As the ship touched down on the landing pad hidden away from the base in the trees, a loud crash came from the back racks, followed by twin groans.

Hunter squinted back at the pair. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Omega and Wrecker both shouted back.

Omega stepped out of the hold, bow strapped to her back, fiddling with the strap of her pauldron. She saw Hunter looking at her and smiled brightly and innocently at him, moving to stand in front of Wrecker as he rushed to clean up the knocked over crates. Hunter rolled his eyes.

Soon after the five of them were offloaded and walking through the trees toward the base. It didn’t take long to reach - as they drew closer Hunter felt worry stirring in his chest at the sounds of raised voices, scraping crates, and the general sounds of chaos that, in his experience, indicated something bad was happening.

He sped up a bit, the others following behind him, and he heard them all make their own noises of concern as they drew close enough to the base for the others to hear.

A couple of Regs standing at the entrance of the hangar bay moved forward as if to stop them, but waved them through once Hunter pulled off his helmet.

“Captain’s inside,” he said, nodding to the chaotic scene behind him.

They all walked inside slowly, Omega jumping out of the way of a frantic looking nat-born woman, the upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist, waving a datapad threateningly and shouting at someone on top of the freighter in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on here?” Wrecker grumbled as they watched clone and nat-born alike clamber around, gathering supplies and loading them into the freighter.

Hunter’s brow quirked as he watched two men load a crate of explosives while another loaded a crate of ammunition onto the ship.

“It would appear they are prepping for an urgent mission,” Tech said, adjusting his giggles as they watched the chaos.

“We just commed Rex an hour ago and he said everything was fine,” Echo looked toward the group, concerned.

“Hello boys!”

They all turned at the sound of a familiar voice and watched Gregor walk toward them, fully armored, with a wave and a grin on his face.

“And lady,” he added once he was next to them, smiling down at Omega and offering her a high five which she accepted.

“What’s the hustle for, Gregor?”

“Bit of an emergency came up in the last hour or so,” Gregor said with a sigh, face falling into a serious expression as he looked around. “One of Rex’s main operatives sent out a distress signal. Looks like he’s been busted and needs extraction.”

“I didn’t know Rex ran stealth ops,” Hunter said, surprised.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But this one is a bit of a special case,” Gregor explained. “He’s had a man playing double agent in the Empire for about a year now. He’s the guy who’s been helping us save all these clones.”

Glancing around, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew Rex had made it his mission to fight the Empire and save all the regs he could, but Hunter hadn’t realized just how many Rex had managed to accumulate even since they were last on base four months ago. There had to be dozens of clones just in the hangar bay. Who knew how many were in the rest of the base.

“One man helped smuggle all these clones out?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“Them and more,” Gregor nodded. “Even helped some get their chips out first.”

“And now the Empire’s figured him out.”

“Aye, vod,” Gregor sighed. “Rex wants to try and extract him as soon as we can. He’s done so much for us… we don’t leave men behind.”

Hunter nodded, very carefully ignoring the way Echo shifted at his back.

“Trooper! Make sure you load a couple emergency field kits and a med scanner into the cargo. I don’t know what sort of condition he’ll be in when we get to him.”

The group turned to watch as Rex rounded the freighter, fully kitted up in his customary 501st blue armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Captain Howzer followed close behind him, similarly decked out in full armor. Rex stood and directed a few of the troopers around before turning to the group huddled to the side of the chaos.

“Evening, Bad Batch,” he greeted as he walked closer, chuckling when Omega ran forward to wrap her arms around the man’s waist.

“Hey there, ‘Meg.”

Howzer nodded respectfully to Hunter and the others.

“What’s going on here, Rex?” Echo said as he stepped around Hunter.

“Emergency extraction,” Rex said simply, accepting the gentle kov’nyn from Echo when the man reached forward. “Bit of a sketchy situation. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Heard about your man,” Echo said, “how deep was he?”

“Very deep,” Rex sighed, expression pinched. “Hopefully we can get to him before, well….”

Hunter nodded as Rex trailed off. By this point, they were all familiar with the Empire’s idea of justice against those they felt had wronged them.

“We should head out,” Rex said, nodding at Howzer and Gregor. The two saluted and Gregor slid his helmet on. “It’s a couple hours to Daro and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Hunter started. “Wait, Daro--?”

“Rex, wait!”

The group turned to watch as a rather gaunt looking clone with a handlebar moustache ran up to the three captains.

“I’d like to request permission to go on this mission, sir,” he said, snapping breathlessly to attention and saluting.

Rex looked at the other clone with concern clear on his face.

‘I don’t know, Boil. You’ve only been here a couple of days, you should be taking time to recover--”

“I understand,” the clone - Boil - said, relaxing. “But I owe it to the Commander to help him. It’s my fault he got caught in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rex argued, reaching out and clapping Boil on the shoulder. “He knew the risks and it was his decision. Besides, you have no way of knowing--”

“That signal went out within days of getting me out,” Boil said quietly. “I know how high of a risk I was, but he did it anyway. I owe this to him.”

Rex held the other man’s gaze for a long moment before sighing and turning to Howzer.

“I hate to ask,” Rex began apologetically, “I know the two of you are close, but--”

“I’ll stay here,” Howzer agreed, reaching up to pull his helmet off. “Man the fort, as it were.”

He glanced over Rex’s shoulder at Hunter and the others before turning back to the other man.

“Just…” Howzer sighed, face pinched, “bring him back safe, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” Rex assured him as the two braced arms.

He unclipped his bucket from his belt and slid it over his head.

“Sorry to dash on you like this, boys,” Rex said, turning back to Hunter and the rest of their squad. “We’ll have to catch up another time.”

“I understand,” Hunter said, reaching forward to clasp the other clone’s hand. “Good luck on your--”

“We can go too!”

Everyone in the cluster turned to look at Omega, who pushed her way forward between Hunter and Boil to stand next to Rex.

“You can?”

“We can?”

Hunter and Rex glanced at each other before Hunter turned back to Omega.

“Yeah!” Omega insisted, looking imploringly at Hunter. “We’ve been to Daro and broke out Gregor before, you know the facility. You guys are trained in special ops, and if this guy is as important as Gregor says he is then they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Rex glanced back at Gregor who shrugged.

“Omega,” Hunter sighed, “we can’t-- they’re going into a major Imperial base. If something happens and we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble. The Empire thinks we’re dead and we need to keep it that way. Besides, Gregor knows the inside of that base better than any of us.”

“But we can help!” Omega argued, frustration clear on her face. “Whoever The Commander is has saved so many people, if our help gives Rex a better chance at saving him, I think we should do it!”

“Omega, we can’t risk--”

“We can’t run from the Empire forever, Hunter,” Omega said softly, grabbing Hunter’s hand.

“Besides, I--” she glanced over to Rex who had yet to speak, before turning and leaning closer to Hunter.

“I have a feeling about this mission,” Omega said quietly, eyes bright as she looked at her brother. “This feels right. I think this is where we’re supposed to be. I can’t explain it, but I… I think we need to do this.”

Hunter sighed, staring down at Omega’s hand on his.

He knew logically that their safety from the Empire wasn’t meant to last. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide Omega and his squad from them forever. The Empire certainly wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so running into them again was ultimately inevitable. It was hard enough keeping his squad away already, Echo arguing with him about helping Rex and the rebellion more and more as the Empire grew. Wrecker and Omega were starting to back Echo up whenever he and Hunter argued, so he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just thought they’d have more time than this. Two years was admittedly a long time to continue on without Imperial detection, but Hunter had been hopeful their peace could last a little bit longer. Omega may have been growing up quickly but she was still a kid. Kids shouldn’t need to worry about rebellions and Empires and bounties and missions and death.

Besides, this seemed like an unnecessary risk to Hunter. Whatever feeling Omega had about this mission, Hunter wasn’t getting it. It felt like a waste to risk their tentative peace and safety from the Empire on a rescue mission for some man they didn’t even know. No matter how impressive his work against the Empire was.

But as much as Omega was a bleeding heart about helping those in need, she was also stubborn as hell. A trait she shared with all the clones, really, but it had gotten worse in her time as a member of the Bad Batch.

Hunter looked back into Omega’s wide eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He sighed, glancing back to the rest of the squad. Tech and Wrecker looked impassive as they stared back at Hunter, likely waiting for him to make a decision and follow whatever option he chose. Echo was looking back at him with the same amount of hope, the same determined resolve that Omega had in her eyes and Hunter knew he was losing the battle here.

He sighed tiredly, turning back to Rex.

“Got room in that ship for five more, Captain?”

Rex was frozen in place as he stared back at Hunter. His body language gave no indication as to what he thought of this development, though the incredulous tone he’d used to question Omega indicated that this was not a turn of events he was planning, or even hoping, for. With his helmet on and staring blankly at him, Hunter had a hard time getting a read as to what the other man was thinking.

Rex’s head tilted just slightly to glance briefly at Howzer, who was standing to the side watching the exchange with a strangely intense look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if--”

“Please, Rex?” Omega said, stepping up to the older clone.

Rex shuffled under Omega’s intense gaze, a feeling Hunter was very familiar with. Finally he sighed, dropping his chin to his chest before turning back to Hunter.

“I don’t have time to argue about this— fine,” he said, ignoring Omega’s happy whoop. “But you have to do exactly as I say, okay? No matter what happens.”

If Hunter didn’t know any better he’d say the Captain sounded tense, almost nervous. Hunter nodded and heard the others agree as well.

Rex kept his gaze on Hunter for another moment before shaking his head and turning toward the freighter.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, commanding tone back as he barked orders at the men around them. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Hunter turned back and nodded at the rest of his squad, who all nodded and slipped their helmets back on their heads as they checked their gear.

“Good luck,” Hunter heard Howzer mutter to Rex, who just shook his head. Something told him they weren’t talking about the mission.

Together they followed Rex, Boil, and Gregor up the ramp of the freighter, Rex and Tech headed for the cockpit. As everyone else got strapped in and the engines on the ship started, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice.

Omega may have had a good feeling about this mission, but Hunter had a feeling this mission was going to change everything for them, and he wasn’t sure it was for the better.