#6 crosshairs

[nightmarearian]

my bullets will find you.

(rage).

"He cast aside his physical form in order to etch the memories of rage and sadness deeper into his being." -Black Swan

"He really wanted to just fall asleep like this and never wake up. Until he heard those crude songs and those gentle words, and memories of yore surfaced once again. The unforgettable hatred turned into a weak light in the darkness and he followed it to walk toward the end of it all, exerting every ounce of his strength to rise once again to the surface." (Boothill's Character Story: Part III)

My Life Stood as a Loaded Gun

(really just this analysis, really).

hhhhhhh

his themes of being a dead man walking and absolute rage (being what's keeping him going) are my fuckin roman empire I love him so much Give him the world I beg ���

as far as I can tell, the "my bullets will find you" were for Acheron, but it fits verrry well for any target of Boothill's, really, soooooo

this... uhh. Moodboard-esque doodle page of mine being the original reference. That one shot at the bottom left :)

[nahoney22]

Poisonous Thoughts***

The Bad Batch PROMPT EVENT

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

prompts:

Person A: go fuck yourself

Person B: fuck me yourself, you coward.

With your relationship already on the rocks, Crosshair’s jealousy about your friendship with Howzer only adds fuel to the fire.

warnings: NSFW, 18+. sexual themes and explicit language. Jealous Crosshair, name calling, angsty, slight spoilers for episodes 6&7, implied blowjobs, mutual pining, first kiss, enemies to friends to friends to enemies to enemies to lovers. This was pretty bad and messy and all over the place. Order 66 mention.

authors note: part of the TBB PROMPT EVENT by @arctrooper69, @dumfanting & @freesia-writes. Thanks for the tag 🤍 and seeing as most people wanted me to write for Crosshair in my last poll it seems only fitting to do this!

Your relationship with Crosshair was chaotic, to say the least.

From initial animosity to a begrudging tolerance, and finally to friendship within a span of a few months, you found yourself developing a deep emotional connection with the Marksman. A very deep one. He was the kind of person who you would search for in a crowded room, wanting him to get you away from it all.

Your feelings for him left you in a state of confusion for quite some time, thoughts almost poisoned and fueled by a hope that perhaps he felt the same. There were signs—his genuine smiles reserved only for you, his seeking of your advice in moments of need, and the subtle shifts in his demeanor around you.

Then came Order 66.

When it began, you lost him. The moment it was issued, you felt his absence keenly not physically but mentally. He suddenly turned cold. And then he was gone.

And despite the anger that filled your heart for months, you almost found solace in considering his actions to be his inhibitor chip. There was a glimmer of hope but when Kamino fell, his unwavering loyalty to the new Empire blinded him.

The memory of that night alone in your bunk, crying until your throat burned, never faded. You even entertained the desperate idea of pleading with Hunter to turn back and bring him onboard, but deep down, you knew it was futile. Your love for him was over before it truly began.

Months later, as things spiraled from bad to worse, you found yourselves reunited. In that moment, your mind was a blank slate. You didn't know how to react or what to feel. Your emotions oscillated between love and hatred, a cycle that seemed endless. But there was a bitterness in you.

Each day brought another round of tiptoeing around Crosshair. While the others seemed to have moved past his past transgressions, eager to bury the hatchet, for you, it felt like starting over from square one.

He exuded the same coldness and distance that characterized your initial encounters, his silence speaking volumes. That is until Howzer spoke to you.

As you engaged in small talk with Howzer, Crosshair couldn't resist interjecting with his unwelcome remarks. You understood Howzer's animosity towards Crosshair, but what puzzled you was Crosshair's hostility towards him. You shot him bitter glares whenever he spoke out of turn, only for him to leave before any response could be made.

What was his problem?

This scenario repeated itself several times. From the corner of the room, you could feel the weight of that familiar glare from times past, and as your eyes met, Crosshair's stare remained unyielding.

One evening, yourself and Crosshair found yourselves aboard the Remora with Echo. "You and Howzer seem... close," his drawling voice came from behind you, causing you to momentarily freeze, shooting Echo an annoyed glance as he awaited your response.

"I speak to him the same amount as I speak to everyone else," you retorted, rolling your eyes after mustering your voice, refusing to turn around to face Crosshair.

"Funny," he began, "I don't recall you speaking to me that much."

Gazing out of the window, a slow realisation dawned upon you. He was jealous. The absurdity of it all almost made you smirk. Despite the flutter in your stomach wondering why he could be jealous, you relished in the opportunity to make him squirm first. "Perhaps he has more riveting conversational qualities."

Echo audibly inhaled a deep breath, seemingly perpetually caught in the crossfire of arguments involving Crosshair and someone else. Meeting Crosshair's gaze this time, a small scowl etched onto his face, you continued, "I have my doubts."

"No need to," you added, meeting his gaze squarely. "I don't see him wanting to talk to you anyway. And the same goes for me."

"Thought you grew up from being a brat?" His words ignited a fiery rage within you, prompting you to rise to your feet. "And I thought you had some more respect for yourself. But you're just a jealous little man," you shot back, your words laced with venom.

Echo swiftly intervened, positioning himself between the two of you. "Can you guys do this elsewhere? All this bickering is giving me a headache."

Crosshair's gaze shifted away from yours, his demeanor faltering. "Gladly," he muttered before stalking off, leaving you to follow in his wake.

Once out of earshot, you wasted no time in confronting him. "Got nothing else to say, huh?" you challenged. "Are you going to try and deny that you're jealous?"

"I have nothing to be jealous about," he snarled, plucking the toothpick from his lips and slamming it to the ground. "You're not mine."

You couldn't help but laugh, a bitter edge to your tone. "You're right about that. You had your chance, and you blew it."

For a moment, you watched as he froze, his expression betraying a hint of confusion. "What do you mean I 'blew it'?" he demanded, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Suddenly, the weight of your words hit you, and you found yourself looking down, shaking your head. "Nothing. I didn't mean to say that," you murmured, hoping to retract your statement.

"I don't believe you," he countered, stepping closer, his presence enveloping you entirely. "You never liked me."

A sudden pang of realisation struck your heart. With your stomach tied in knots, you met his intense gaze. "Is that what you always thought?"

He continued to stare you down, searching for any hint of deception, but to his surprise, he found none. Yet, his stubbornness refused to accept it. "You're lying," he insisted, his voice firm.

"No," you muttered, your voice trembling with emotion, "but I wish I was."

He scoffed dismissively, turning his back on you with a bitter twist to his expression. "I don't get you. If you had these feelings, why did you never tell me?" His voice cracked with frustration, his shoulders tense with unresolved tension.

"I could say the same," you shot back, your bravery tinged with desperation, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. But as his gaze met yours, a storm of conflicting emotions raged within you.

His frustrated glare softened briefly, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability before he turned away again, his back a wall of defense.

Memories flooded your mind—quiet moments shared between you, moments where unspoken words hung heavy in the air, suffocating in their silence. You remembered the times when he seemed on the verge of opening up, only to retreat into himself.

In that moment, a surge of resentment bubbled within him, fueled by months of unanswered questions and unspoken truths. "Go fuck yourself," he spat, his words dripping with anger and self-loathing. Yet beneath the anger and hurt, there lingered a flicker of longing, a desperate yearning for connection buried deep within both of you, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Go fuck me yourself, you coward.” The words tumbled from your lips before you could even process them, but in that heated moment, consequences be damned.

He whirled around, his gaze piercing into yours as he strode towards you with purpose, until you were backed up against the wall, his breath hot against your face. "Say. That. Again," he demanded, his voice laced with urgency, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sincerity.

It wasn't a threat; it was a plea, a desperate plea for honesty amidst the chaos of emotions swirling between the both of you. Did you mean it? Of course. Of course you fucking did.

Your breath hitched in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Crosshair, I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words to express the tumult of feelings coursing through you.

"I know," he murmured softly, his gaze softening as he understood, as if everything that needed to be said had already been said.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips against yours in a swift yet tender kiss, his hands cradling your face gently, overwhelming you with a rush of warmth and longing that eclipsed both of your poisonous thoughts.

“Come with me,” he rasps against your lips, a gentle tug on your hand that had you willingly coming with him and far, far away from Echo’s ears.

He guides you through the ship until you both come to the refresher, both of you tumbling inside as your kisses become fervent, desperate and needy.

He pulls back for a moment, gazing down at you as if to see you were real and not a figment of his imagination before his lips latch onto your neck, sucking and bruising your skin. You whine in pleasure, keeling into his body as your hands move down to his crotch.

Softly, you palm against his erection, gasping as you feel the outline of his hardening cock. “I want you Cross,” you gasp as his teeth graze along your flesh.

He growls low and guttural, but understands, “I know kitten,” his hands travel up the underside of your shirt, fingers stroking against your breasts as his hips involuntarily jerk into the touch of your hand, “as soon as we get back to Pabu… fuck, I can’t even begin to tell you what I’m going to do to you.”

You grin, a sultry laugh parting your lips. “Perhaps you should show me.”

“Refresher isn’t big enough.” He grunts, “but I could give you a taster?”

His tone is suggestive and your core pangs with arousal at the possibilities. “How so?”

He gazes down at you, one hand now cupping your jaw with his thumb dancing over your lower lip. There’s a longing, a love in his eyes but unmistakably there’s one of pure lust too. “Get on your knees and find out.”

More Crosshair Works

Masterlist

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[leavingkamino]

Crosshair & Omega in STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH 3.08 "Bad Territory"

[kaijusplotch]

Hunter: ok, we have another brother to get loose.

Echo: the box definitely looks banged up. I hope they're ok.

Wrecker: I got the knife on this side Sarge!

*BANG!*

Crosshair: fucking hell!!

Cody: wrecker! Take it easy!

Wrecker: it wasn't me Cody! It popped open on its own!

Jesse: fuck! Nearly gave me a heart attack!

Hunter: never mind that then, let's get him out!

Echo: haul away Wrecker!

Wrecker: you got it!

Crosshair: don't hurt yourself you idiot.

Cody: Rex!

Crosshair: hey captain. Good to see you.

Jesse: Captain!!

Hunter: you're a sight for sore eyes Rex!

Rex: kriff, felt like I was in there forever!

Rex: Cody!

Cody: Rex'ika...shit I missed you, little brother.

Echo: we missed you too, Sir.

Wrecker: REX!!

Rex: *groans* shit! Good...to see you too Wrecker.

Cody: don't break him. *Chuckling*

Hunter: *laughs* he won't. His armor might need to be banged back into shape though

Rex: I didn't come alone...but I need you to promise me not to go off without hearing what he has to say, Echo.

Echo: what do you mean? Who is it?

Wrecker: I can't make any promises like that. If Echo doesn't like him I'm gun a break heads.

Crosshair: I agree with Wrecker.

Rex: *sighs* all right...Fox...come on up.

Cody: Fox? You're alive?

Echo: WHAT...?

Fox: ... This...may not be a good idea.

Echo: HOW COULD YOU BRING HIM HERE?!?

Rex: Echo, please I know how it looks

Fox: he's right, Rex. I don't deserve to be here. But please listen.

Crosshair: just say the word, and I'll snap his neck.

Echo: why the FUCK should I listen to you?! You killed Fives! You killed my twin!

Jesse: Captain, I don't know why you brought him here. I'm with Echo, he needs to pay for what he did! He's a murderer.

Fox: please! Just...give me a chance. Let me say what I need to say

Cody: Echo, Jesse, Crosshair, that's enough! Fox, go ahead.

Fox: *sighs* he's not dead.

Echo: what?

Fox: Fives. Your brother. He's alive. I'm sorry for the lies and the hurt, it was a plan gone awry. But he's safe and will be here soon.

Jesse: what...? Fives is...

Echo: alive?

First | previous

[kybercrystals94]

Barrier

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 6 - Prompt: Not Realizing They're Injured / "It's not my blood."

Rated: T | Words: 729

CW: Blood (in case the prompt didn't give it away)...nothing too graphic, but just wanted to mention it!

Hunter is thrown when another explosion detonates, hitting a wall with enough force it drives the breath from his lungs, leaving him gasping through his respirator. Debris clatters like hail against his plastoid armor. He isn’t surprised everything hurts, head ringing from the impact, but he pushes himself up even before the reverberation of the blast settles, the ground trembling under his boots as he stumbles forward to the first citizen he sees. 

The woman is leaning forward, gripping her ankle with both hands, voice sobbing in a language Hunter doesn’t understand. He kneels down in front of her. “We’ll get you out of here,” he tells her. 

The woman’s wild eyed gaze traverses Hunter’s dirty armor, and she shakes her head, continuing to speak frantically in her native tongue. He doesn’t have time for arguing, the transport will be back soon for survivors, and she is only one of many. He scoops her up in his arms in a bridal cary, careful to avoid jostling her injured ankle. She pushes against his breastplate, continuing to speak the same words over and over again. 

“I don’t understand,” Hunter tells her. His head is still ringing, dull pounding pain throbbing throughout his skull. Distantly, he wonders if he has a concussion. 

The woman points to her own abdomen, and Hunter looks down. Blood blooms across her torn blouse. How did he not see that before? He nods at her, trying to communicate that he understands that she is injured. The rendezvous isn’t far, and Hunter moves as fast as he dares. Tech is there, tending the wounded as they arrive. He will know what to do. 

Tech meets him when he arrives. “What are her injuries?” he asks, motioning for Hunter to lay the woman down by a tree where several other civilians are already situated. 

“Abdomen wound, seems like it’s bleeding heavily,” Hunter tells him. “But she was holding her ankle when I found her. I don’t think she can walk on her own.” 

Tech nods, already reaching for a fresh roll of gauze from his med pack. 

Hunter draws back from the woman, moving to stand again when she catches his arm in both hands. She speaks frantically, this time looking at Tech. 

Tech looks at Hunter, his eyes wide behind his goggles. 

“What is she saying?” Hunter asks.

“She says that it isn’t her blood,” Tech says, tone too even to be truly calm. “It is yours.” 

“I’m not…” Hunter begins, but Tech points to Hunter’s own midsection. Hunter looks down and sees it. Shrapnel, dark and ominous, protrudes from his armor. He didn’t even notice, felt nothing but the pain in his head, the ache in his muscles. But now, his skin feels like fire and the warmth of blood pooling under his armor, soaking into his blacks. His head goes light, vision spotting with dark splotches under his visor. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his vision, but when he opens them again, he is on the Marauder, the sound of Wrecker snoring in the bunk above him, the dim lighting of night cycle glowing around him. 

“Thanks for your help with the evacuation,” Crosshair says from the crash sheet, “Couldn’t have done it without you. Oh, wait, we did.” 

“Please don’t antagonize the wounded,” Tech chides, and he appears in Hunter’s eyeline, hovering over him. “How do you feel?” 

Hunter groans. “Not great.” 

“To be expected,” Tech agrees. “Alami said that she tried to warn you before you picked her up.” 

“A language barrier is no excuse,” Crosshair admonishes. 

“It is actually a quite reasonable excuse,” Tech tells him guilelessly. A pause. “You were being sardonic.”  

Crosshair chuckles. 

Hunter suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. He knows it will only aggravate his lingering headache. 

“The mission was a success?” he asks.

Tech hums, checking the bandages wrapped around Hunter’s midsection. “Of course it was. It turned out Alami is the village’s doctor. She was able to take over my duties, and I was able to assist with yours. If you had to rescue one last individual before becoming incapacitated, you chose the right one.” 

Hunter sighs, exhaustion tugging at his consciousness enticingly. He wants to ask more, to hear everything that happened…but he knows his brothers will tell him everything he wants to know when he wakes again. 

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt

[jesus-holding-your-fave]

Crosshair from the bad batch 😭

use a photo of him looking super cranky

Today, Jesus is holding:

Crosshair from The Bad Batch

[robotsandramblings]

i'm 99% sure that adult Omega is taller than Hunter hgfdfghjklkjhg this is everything i wanted!!

bc i've been wondering if, as an 'unaltered' clone, she would reach the standard clone height of 6 feet. and Hunter is still officially listed at 5'11'' . maybe he's stooping a bit idk but i think she's legitimately got than inch on him!! idk i just think it's super cute ☺️

p.s. another reason we needed to see old men Crosshair and Wrecker -- to see how much closer in height she is to them now!!

[ivyssaigasdoodles]

It's been a blast guys x

This is one of the few shows i've really been a fan of the whole way thru, and its been wonderful not only drawing fanart for it but also just engaging with the story and so much of everyone else's fanwork and theories as a whole.

No matter how the next ep ends, im so glad and grateful this show happened =)

Happy Bad Batch Eve!! It's been an honour

[letshareapapou]

Crossroads

Complete

I've always chosen....to follow you.

[acryliccassetteart]

finished my farewell piece two hours before the finale, based on a picture of me and my friends

i’m going to miss this show so much, and i honestly can’t say how long i’ll be in the fandom afterwards, but it will always hold a special place in my heart <3

background is a screenshot of upper pabu, i did not draw that and am not claiming to

masterlist

[lifblogs]

Only Another Mission

@ailesswhumptober Day 6 Multiple Whumpees, Self Sacrifice, "I'm the only one who can do this."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 5827 Summary: The Bad Batch were tasked with stealing important data from Admiral Trench to get back to Coruscant. Unfortunately, they are captured by Separatist droids who are searching for the stolen data. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

Hunter growled as the commando droids started stripping him of his armor. He tried to fight back, but in seconds, their rough handling had him bared down to his skintight fatigues. A blue light came from a small device on their arms, scanning over his discarded pile of armor.

“Negative,” the commando droid said to the others in the dark, hot room they were in. “Search the next one.”

“Hey,” Hunter cried as he was shoved forward, a hard blaster ramming into his spine. He almost lost his balance, the binders on his wrists not doing anything to help with that.

“Watch who you’re shoving,” Tech said, clearly sticking up for Hunter, back still straight despite being shoved himself. He didn’t care what was done to him, it seemed.

Hunter had turned enough to see Tech get his helmet ripped off, and a blaster whipped across his face.

Hunter yelled, trying to get to him, but was held back by commando droids, one punching him in his diaphragm. They got him to his knees, blasters against the back of his head, as he tried to catch his breath.

The others—Echo, Crosshair, and Wrecker—were held back.

Tech got to his feet, and despite the red mark across his cheek and the cracked transparisteel of his left lens, he just set his jaw, lips turning down somewhat.

Hunter glanced towards the back of the room, the dim red glow allowing him to see where their weapons had been discarded. Could he make a break for it?

No, probably not. They each had three commando droids keeping them in check. Well, Wrecker had six.

Once they were all stripped, surely covered in bruises, they were thrown into a ray-shielded cell.

Crosshair landed the hardest, losing his footing and falling onto his shoulder. He hissed at the pain. Hunter tried to help him up, but he shoved him off.

The walls were durasteel, the colors copper and brass. There wasn’t much light to see by, but given this seemed to be some sort of dungeon to hold prisoners of war, Hunter wasn’t surprised.

The entrance was directly across from their cell. He had the route they’d been forced in on memorized, could tell it by the way the electromagnetic frequencies felt through the walls, the floor, the ray shield.

Someone’s scent shifted, and Hunter looked to the corner, where Echo—whose head brace had been taken so he couldn’t use his scomp that well—was huddled up, eyes wide, breathing harsh.

“What’s wrong with him?” Crosshair asked.

Hunter glared, and shoved him aside.

Wrecker reached out his hands to lay them on Echo’s shoulder, but thought better of it, drawing back.

“Give him some space,” Hunter commanded.

He got to one knee before him.

“Echo, it’s gonna be okay.”

“The Separatists, they have me again.” He swallowed roughly, but his mouth seemed dry, voice cracking as he asked, “What if they know who—who I am? Send me back to—to…”

“The Techno Union,” Tech finished, Echo visibly flinching.

Hunter shot him a look.

Tech raised his shoulders, whereas when uncuffed he would usually raise his hands in moments like this.

“What?”

“Echo, it’s—”

Hunter couldn’t say more soothing words, because he heard more droids coming. Commandos, B2s, and a tactical droid.

His gaze went to the table in the center of the room. It had restraints, and odd machines all around it. Surely meant for torture.

Hunter stood, blocking any possible view of Echo, and he hoped he wouldn’t be recognized, that he wouldn’t be picked for whatever torture they had ahead of them.

The tactical droid stopped before them.

“If you give us the data you stole from Admiral Trench you will be free to go.”

Wrecker laughed. “Yeah, as if we’d believe that.”

Tech responded, “Obviously you will kill us.”

“All right,” the tactical droid responded. “We will kill you quickly, as opposed to taking the information the hard way.”

Hunter’s gut turned over, and he shifted his legs to make sure they continued to hold his weight in the face of the fear gripping him, wrapping tight around his spine.

The truth was, Tech had memorized the data, and as soon as they had gotten wind that they were being followed and would be shot down, they’d thrown the stolen datastick out the airlock.

Hunter didn’t like seeing anyone as less important in his squad, but Tech and Echo were his priorities here.

Crosshair sighed, drawing the tactical droid’s attention. He had probably realized the same thing Hunter had. “This’ll be fun,” he commented.

However, Separatist droids weren’t usually ones to be baited. They didn’t have many feelings at all, and didn’t anger, and weren’t prone to wanting revenge. So, so different from life-forms, or even Gonky.

The tactical droid tilted on its legs. Hunter wanted to shift to block Echo even more, but that movement would give away that he wanted them to not pay attention to Echo.

“Lower the ray shield,” the tactical droid ordered.

A B2 did as requested.

The tactical droid pointed, past Hunter, past Tech.

“That one,” it said.

Hunter rushed at the opening, crying out. Tech tried to do the same, but Hunter shoved him aside with his shoulder.

He wished he could spread his arms out, protect his entire squad.

He didn’t really have a plan as he rushed the droids, completely uncaring of their blasters and tough metal bodies in the face of his urge to protect Echo.

He got a few hits in on two B2s, arms sore. As he tried shoving them back, succeeding somewhat, he was rammed in the gut again, pain flaring so intensely he wondered if they’d cracked a rib.

Hunter couldn’t wonder for long because a stun blast hit him at point blank range. Instead of affecting his entire body, it numbed his legs, his hips, his lower abdomen.

He collapsed, hardly able to catch himself to protect his face and head. His jaw and cheek cracked against the corrugated durasteel flooring, the sound digging right into his left ear, as he fell. Hunter groaned, and was hit by a stun blast again.

He tried to scream, tried to do something to save Echo, but he was forced into a violent and sudden unconsciousness.

Wrecker dragged Hunter’s unconscious form out of the way as gently as possible so the droids wouldn’t step on him. Tech and Crosshair joined up shoulder to shoulder now, protecting Echo, grappling with the droids trying to get in.

Wrecker looked to Echo, who was muttering 501st strategies of all things, words frantic, eyes rolling like he didn’t know where he was, and couldn’t take in any of the signals his eyes were sending to his brain.

After checking that Hunter was still breathing, he fit himself in between Echo, and Tech and Crosshair. He knew this gave away how much they cared about him, but what else were they supposed to do—just let the droids grab him and have their way with what was left of his body?

“Take me,” Wrecker spoke up.

“The clone in the back will be sufficient,” the tactical droid grated out.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Wrecker said. “Listen to him. You think he knows anything?”

The tactical droid called a halt.

“And what do you know?”

“I know where we stashed the data.”

“Wrecker,” Tech warned.

Wrecker almost rolled his eyes. Sometimes his brothers so did not trust him to handle delicate situations like this.

Besides, as he stood behind them, his hands were hidden, and he had been tugging at his binders.

He figured if he got enough space, and rammed them against an upraised knee, wrists drawing outwards, he could break them.

And then he’d crush this stupid tactical droid’s head!

His nostrils flared at the thought.

He shoved Tech and Crosshair aside.

“Take me,” he demanded.

“Wrecker, you’re being an idiot,” Crosshair said.

“No, no. Let him be an idiot.” Tech.

Tech was another he’d have to protect. He actually had the data memorized.

The tactical droid looked Wrecker over.

“Put up the ray shield,” it commanded.

Wrecker was forced back quickly as the red shield came up between him and the droids.

“What are you—”

A sweet smell began to fill the cell.

“Oh no,” Wrecker murmured, words and thoughts already slowed.

“What—” Tech began to ask before he collapsed.

Crosshair was next.

Wrecker’s limbs seemed to disappear, all sensation lost. And then he was falling, not even able to feel his body hit the floor.

Echo’s eyes still looked glassy and faraway as everything went black.

Tech woke to screams.

He groaned, shaking his head as he pushed himself up.

Mind blurry, he did a count of everyone in the cell.

An empty corner met him as he turned his head to count Echo.

Echo.

Where…?

The screams sounded again, deep, rough sounds like an animal in agony.

Echo!

Tech must have yelled his name because the others started to get up. Tech was the first, standing on weak limbs, brain not entirely sure which way was up. He stumbled against the ray shield only to find out it had been electrified.

His body jerked, burning stabbing pain racing through him. He fell back, landing hard, but not feeling the full impact.

He crawled—an awkward feat with his wrists bound.

Through blurry vision—some sort of drug clouding his senses, he realized—Tech looked at the table. Echo’s prosthetic legs had been removed, and his torso was pinned down. Some type of machine seemed to be pulling at his scomp, cutting in, threatening to shorten his already-amputated arm.

“Echo!” Hunter tried to cry. The word was garbled by horrible swelling along his jaw and cheek. It was as if he’d been stung by something he was allergic to, save that this swelling was blue and purple under his tattoo.

Crosshair awoke, shaking his head, and Wrecker was trying to clamber to his feet.

Tech reached out while on his knees.

“Be careful of the ray—” he tried to warn, right as Wrecker collapsed into it.

Tech had been trained how to deal with stressful situations, had been in combat surely hundreds of times by now. But Wrecker in pain, body flailing; Echo being tortured, screaming; he and the rest of the squad struggling to overcome the drug they’d been gassed with—it was too much.

Tech had been through mental simulations that had told his brain his body was being harmed through various means, a secret part of their training on Kamino, yet he wanted to give up the information. The training seemed worth nothing in the face of the suffering for those he cared for.

At the moment, brain still fuzzy, he couldn’t remember the data he’d previously had memorized, which frightened him so much that he sat there, staring at the floor.

He’d failed his mission. All of them had failed because of him. And now Echo was being tortured.

The droids seemed to reach a part they couldn’t just amputate without damaging his brain, so they moved onto different methods.

Echo wished he could look at what was left of his arm, wished he could see the damage done. Yet he knew if he looked he’d surely be sick.

They stopped their pulling and cutting.

A drill whirred.

Echo began chanting Rex’s strategies, not in any specific order, but it was all his brain could think to do.

He squeezed his eyes shut, ready to feel the burning cold consume him, ready for pain to become his entire world if he didn’t give up the information fast enough. They could get it directly from his brain, plugged right in, but sometimes he was aware, sometimes he fought back, sometimes he was too slow to speak.

The drill—more ports were needed?—reached his head.

He screamed, he begged, and a horrible smell like burning metal smoked in the air as the drill destroyed the covering on one of his ports that the GAR had put in place to protect his brain.

The vibrations rattled his skull, his eyes, and he soon grew dizzy, and nauseous.

Echo, with no way to turn over, or sit up, worried he’d asphyxiate if this kept up.

He swallowed roughly, jaw now clenched tight against his nausea that seemed to fill his whole torso, climbing up his throat…

Echo groaned.

Red light soon shone against his eyelids in a thin beam.

As that laser worked at his port, a tactical droid asked, “Where is the data you stole?”

Data? What data?

“I know where it is,” a voice hissed, rough and low.

Where—where am I?

Fives.

Rex.

The ship blowing up.

Echo attempted to sit up, but was restrained so well all he could do was give a slight jerk.

“Stop what you’re doing,” the voice said, even stronger now. “I’ll talk.”

“Crosshair, no,” a low voice, rough and smooth like smoke got out, words garbled. The speaker of those words grunted.

The laser turned off.

“Stow it, Hunter. Why would I listen to you anyway? You led us into this mess!”

“Technically I did,” a sharp voice said, “when I tripped the proximity sensors of—”

“No one cares how stupid you are,” Crosshair sneered.

“Enough of this,” the tactical droid said, sweeping out an arm that ended up in Echo’s vision. “Take them to level Two-B. All prisoners will be interrogated.”

Crosshair, recovered enough from the drug, was pacing as the droids pieced Echo back together. They hadn’t been moved yet, the droids seeming to want to keep them as a unit, probably to play off of each other, to hurt one or more of them when a torture method proved useless.

Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose, corners of his lips turned down.

“I’m not—”

“I know you’re not stupid,” Crosshair interrupted. “I was doing Plan Thirteen.”

“That nitrous oxide must have been really strong,” Wrecker commented.

Crosshair wanted to curse him for saying the gas’ name aloud because they were smelling the sweet smell again, and Crosshair was swaying.

He knew it really wasn’t Wrecker’s fault, but seriously?

“Not… again,” Tech said.

“Kriffing hell,” Hunter groaned out.

“I’m… scared,” Wrecker admitted.

Crosshair collapsed. He thought maybe Hunter’s hair was brushing against his face before all went black.

Hunter was desperately trying to think of a way out. But here he was, strapped to a table, every member of his squad in the exact same condition. Well, Echo was bleeding, and he let out agonized groans without any droid or machine working on him for now. Hunter wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, wanted to block out the world, wanted to pretend Echo hadn’t just been tortured.

Though Hunter was feeling nauseous, and sensors he realized he was hooked up to—his tunic ripped open—were beeping a tad frantically. The others seemed to be doing the same. Everyone started groaning as they came to.

A droid hovered over, jabbing Hunter in the arm, and he winced. But in seconds, his nausea began to subside. His head was still fuzzy, however.

“What if… what if we did Plan Fifty-Five?” Crosshair suggested.

“I agree with Wrecker. They gassed you too hard,” Tech said.

“We all had the same level of—of, nitrous— whatever it’s called,” Crosshair growled out.

“Plan Fifty-Five isn’t relevant to this situation,” Hunter clarified.

Really, of all the times for Tech to start joking around.

The tactical droid entered. Hunter could tell by the electromagnetic frequency that felt like a frisson through the very air.

“You will tell us where you have the data. We have triple-checked your vessel, but no scans indicate the data is onboard.”

Hunter began to wonder if that data was truly worth his squad’s pain. His pain meant nothing, though he would love to put a chill pac on his face, but it was his squad that was important, each and every member.

He knew what the data was. It held detailed locations of tens of droid factories on Separatist worlds, and the easiest routes to get there. And it held information about a new experiment the Separatist leaders were beginning to try, involving clones (that part he’d made sure Echo hadn’t seen).

No, it had to be worth it. This could turn the tide of the war, this could save soldiers, good men despite the way they treated his squad, men who were ready to die for what they believed in.

Hunter believed he was ready to do the same.

When he and his squad began to be shocked repeatedly, Hunter knew exactly what he had to do.

He tried to talk, to get it to stop, to make the pain and screaming stop.

They wouldn’t listen to him, hadn’t deemed any of them had been tortured enough yet.

A blade was slicing open his arm, and he was begging, broken jaw grinding, crinkling, and crackling inside him. His words were all mangled. No one’s cries were heeded.

Maybe every one of his men would try to be the hero here, but the droids wouldn’t listen.

There was a lull in the torture—if that’s what it could be called—as their wounds were stapled together so they wouldn’t bleed out, and the ones with larger surface area, like on their chests, were cauterized.

Hunter hardly wanted to speak the plan forming in his head, worried the medical droids would report anything that was said.

“I will tell them,” Tech said, voice rough, broken. A sudden high-pitched cry left him, probably as another staple was inserted.

“No!” Wrecker cried.

He groaned. “I’m… I’m the only one who can do this.”

“No,” Hunter forced out. “Don’t say a thing to them. I have a plan.”

“And that plan is…?” Crosshair asked through gritted teeth.

“Just don’t say anything to any droid. This’ll be over soon. I promise.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not sure I have many other places to hurt,” Echo said.

“They could always break your bones,” Tech added.

“Not helpful, Tech,” Hunter said.

The tactical droid returned, checked their wounds were “sufficiently” closed.

And the knives came out again.

Hunter wished he could spare his team these seconds of being sliced into, but he couldn’t do anything yet. Not until the knife went down, down, lower, lower, just a bit more…!

Hunter wrenched his wrist, grabbed the blade that had been slicing down along his ribs, and cut the binding on his right wrist in one swift motion. He stabbed the droid that had been torturing him right by its neck, sparks flying.

He cried out as he did so; feeling sharp aches, and burning, and sore throbbing, in too many places to count.

Before the droid could fall, he grabbed the arm with the laser, activated it with the knife by guessing the location of the wires, and a red beam cut across the room.

The droids had stopped torturing his squad, descending on him.

The beam accidentally almost got Wrecker’s foot, and he yelled, “Hey!”

Hunter corrected his aim of the beam, and sliced through the tactical droid, orange and white sparks bursting into the air.

“What… what are you doing?”

Its eyes dimmed, and its head fell off.

None of the droids seemed to know what to do without the tactical droid in charge. Many began discussing who was in charge now, whether their orders still stood.

Hunter dropped the arm with the beam, and cut himself out of the rest of his restraints.

His legs wobbled when he stood, and his head was pounding, face throbbing. Everything hurt, and he wanted nothing more but to lie down.

Despite medicine he’d been given repeatedly, Hunter almost threw up.

Tech actually did when Hunter helped free him, and so did Crosshair.

Wrecker was next, and then he knelt by Echo, asking, “Is it okay if I carry you?”

Echo gave a weak nod, and was gently placed across Wrecker’s shoulders.

Freed, they were able to disable most of the droids, but they worried more would be on the way.

Hunter led them back to where they’d last seen their armor and weapons.

“All right. Gear up. Wrecker, help Echo with his armor, and his legs.”

“I can do it,” Echo argued, right as he failed to raise his one good arm as he reached for his head brace.

“I’ll do it,” Crosshair said, kneeling by him to help out.

Hunter didn’t ask if everyone was okay. He knew they weren’t, knew that after being drugged repeatedly, manhandled, electrocuted, sliced up, wounds uncaringly stapled together and cauterized, that none of them were okay. Echo was worse off, eyes still going distant, still murmuring strategies here and there.

“I know,” Crosshair told him as he did so for now, detailing quite a clever plan to completely surround an enemy military force without them knowing. “I’ve got it.”

Hunter was surprised Crosshair was being so gentle, but he was odd like that. Sometimes Crosshair was harsh, mean to anyone he spoke to, his attitude a whole language of its own that sometimes Hunter needn’t actually take offense from, and other times he would show gentle support with each of them, even banter. (Though the bantering turned into bickering more often than not, and Hunter knew that was the kind of thing Crosshair lived for.)

Hunter couldn’t help wincing with each piece of armor he put on. He’d had to strip away some of his fatigues to bind his side, and the others were doing the same.

He took off his unfortunately-sweaty bandana, and offered it to Echo.

“For your arm,” he said, as he knelt down, gesturing to the injuries his amputated arm had received.

Echo nodded, mouthing something, his voice not coming out, eyes unseeing.

“Is he… going to be okay?” Tech asked.

“He will be,” Hunter promised.

He has to be.

Though he was very unsure as to if that was true or not.

Tech raised a finger as if he wanted to argue the point.

“Come on, we’re rolling out.”

Hunter put on his helmet, trying to ignore the way it squeezed his swollen face.

Tech put his helmet on too, groaning, probably due to the swollen bruise along his cheekbone.

Suddenly, Hunter straightened, even as his possibly-fractured rib, and his wounded chest and side, screamed in protest.

Droids. Closing in.

“We got company,” Hunter said.

“How many?” Wrecker asked, taking Echo again now that Crosshair had finished helping him.

“Too many. Tech, any other ways out?”

Tech was on his datapad already, though his fingers were shaky as he held it and tapped away.

“The cooling vents,” he suggested. “There’s a route leading outside. Though, it won’t be easy.”

Hunter raced over to check it out on the screen.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said, then looked up, the first vent two stories up.

“If you prefer, we can die fighting instead. And the Republic will never get their intel.”

“Wrecker, get that vent open.”

Even with Echo already over his shoulders and grunting in pain, Wrecker threw a small explosive at the vent. In a matter of seconds it detonated, leaving a big enough hole for them all to get through.

The acrid smoke drifted to Hunter’s nose, courtesy of his enhanced senses. The advanced filters in his helmet seemed to do little to help.  After all the gas, it made him nauseous again.

He furrowed his brows, and had to lean over, hands on his knees.

“Sarge?” Wrecker called.

“You… you all right enough to throw us up there, big guy?”

“Sure, hold on.”

Sweat dripped from Hunter’s brow.

Wrecker placed Echo down, then grabbed Crosshair without much warning.

Though Crosshair didn’t seem to mind getting thrown right into a vent.

“Tech, you’re up,” Wrecker said, beckoning with his hands.

Tech clipped his datapad on his belt, and then Wrecker grabbed him and threw him.

“Sarge.”

Hunter groaned, but shambled over.

“Careful, my stomach—”

He didn’t get to finish what he was saying because Wrecker, panting from pain, grabbed him around the middle, and tossed him.

When Hunter landed in the vent, the others already crawling, he had to remain still as he swallowed back his nausea.

Wrecker didn’t come up.

Hunter turned, and crawled back to the opening.

The droids were getting closer.

“Wrecker, come on!”

“I… I can’t make the jump, especially not with Echo.”

“Just throw me,” Echo groaned.

Hunter backed up for Wrecker to do so, but still nothing.

Blast, the droids!

Hunter drew his blaster, and right as the droids were about to open the door, Hunter blasted the lock.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

Then he saw it, dripping into a puddle beneath Wrecker.

“I… I tore my staples, Sarge. I can’t get us up.”

“Hold on, we’ll get you out.”

Hunter called back to the others. “Plan Sixty-Eight!”

Without much discussion, they started locking themselves together, Crosshair in the back using a rappelling cable to secure himself.

Hunter did not want to do this, not as his head swirled, and his aching, burning limbs shook, but he had no choice.

Trusting his squad would give this their all, even after being gassed with nitrous oxide twice, their arms ripped open and stapled together, Hunter started lowering himself headfirst out of the vent.

Then as he was fully out, Tech held on, following him.

Crosshair groaned from where he held on, thuds sounding as he braced himself.

“Hand over Echo,” Hunter said.

Wrecker groaned as he did so, more blood pouring out from his arm.

“Climb,” Hunter said. “We’ll help you.”

He did his best with shifting his weight, and curling his body at the appropriate times to do so.

“Got him!” Crosshair soon called, Echo now safely in the ventilation shaft.

“Wrecker, your turn. We’ll haul you in.”

“My arm…” He glanced at the doors, at the melting metal as the droids broke through. “Maybe… Maybe I can fight, give you time to get out.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Hunter told him.

“What’s stupid is making us hold this position so long,” Crosshair cried.

“Agreed,” Tech responded.

“Wrecker!” Hunter called.

“Oh man, I don’t want to do this.”

He backed up a few paces, then started toward them in a clumsy run. He jumped and Hunter groaned as he grabbed his hands. His entire body felt like it was being stretched, all his muscles being used to haul up Wrecker.

“Pull us in.”

“This isn’t… easy!” Crosshair got out.

Thuds sounding in the ventilation shaft let Hunter know he was using his entire body to bring them up.

Tech was getting pulled in, then started pulling Hunter in.

The door burst open, and droids came in blasting.

Wrecker cried out, swinging to avoid their red blaster bolts, making Hunter scream through gritted teeth as the cauterized wounds on his chest were pulled, along with the wound that hadn’t been closed. It didn’t help that Wrecker’s right hand was slippery and slick with blood.

It fell from Hunter’s grasp, Wrecker crying out.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you!” Hunter yelled. He twisted his head around to look up. “Come on!” he cried.

Wrecker used his right hand to grab his blaster, and began firing at the droids, crying out about how much he hated heights as Hunter was dragged in, and finally, finally they got Wrecker over the lip of the vent, and then inside.

Everyone was panting hard, and blood slicked the cold metal.

“Keep moving,” Hunter told them.

“You know…” Wrecker gasped out as they painstakingly crawled, following Tech’s instructions, “Tech’s really the only valuable one here. You… you didn’t have to save me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Crosshair called from up ahead.

“Yeah, who else is supposed to carry me?” Echo asked.

He paused for a moment, seeming stunned, when everyone volunteered their services.

“I have carried you before,” Tech said. “It is no problem.”

“I saw a way we could save you,” Hunter said back to Wrecker, “so I made sure we did so. If you really want to sacrifice yourself that badly though,” he went on, taking on a teasing tone, even with the way his jaw crunched in his head, “I can kick you out the vent, drop you two stories, and let the droids have you.”

“I could handle the droids, but not…”

“Heights,” everyone filled in.

“Are we almost there?” Echo moaned.

“Yes,” Tech told him. “Just a few more turns.”

Hunter felt like he had been in that shaft for forever, his body trying to give out, to collapse. He knew the others felt the same way. At one point they had to pause to rip up Hunter’s left trouser-leg to wrap Wrecker’s arm. To be safe, Tech fashioned a tourniquet with some spare wires he had.

Wrecker didn’t stop complaining after that.

“Nice job,” Hunter murmured to Tech, knowing that if the tourniquet was the chief complaint then it really was a job well done.

Cold air blew in, the metal freezing, and Hunter’s body was aching, and shivering, and clenching. Everyone else’s was doing the same.

He had almost forgotten about the snowy landscape they’d crashed into.

Almost there, he told himself.

“Uh, Tech,” Crosshair began. “We have a problem.”

“What is it?” Hunter asked.

“We’re four stories up.”

Wrecker froze behind Hunter, then groaned out, “Oh no.”

“Oh, that is not a problem,” Tech said matter of factly. “I was aware of this the entire time.”

“If you were a reg I’d strangle you and throw yout out the shaft,” Crosshair growled.

“Well, then it’s very good that I am not. Move aside, please.”

“You sure you trust me not to push you out?”

“Don’t worry, Crosshair, I never trust my safety around you.”

“Well, at least those two are joking around again,” Echo said back to Hunter and Wrecker.

“Who said I was joking?” Crosshair asked, tone sharper and deadlier than any weapon to be found or forged in the entire galaxy.

Hunter normally would roll his eyes, but he was already light-headed as it was.

“So, Tech, how do we get out?” Hunter asked. The shaft opened up so they could stand, though they all were leaning against the walls, unsteady.

“Simple.” He took a device from one of his pouches, and held it up as they all gathered by the freezing entrance, cold blowing in.

Hunter could sense the Marauder from here.

“I made this device after one of our stays on Coruscant. It’s similar to what people use to call for their speeders. However, we don’t seem to be in range. Crosshair, do you mind holding onto me, and leaning back slightly? I don’t trust my balance.”

Crosshair grumbled about it, but helped Tech while he stood by the edge, arm in the air, the device raised.

“Ah, we’re in range.”

Hunter saw a red light blink on as he pressed a button.

Engines purred, and burst into life.

“I hope the droids didn’t do too much damage,” Tech said.

The engines sputtered.

Oh, kriff.

Soon their ship was emerging out of the snowy air, though it was wobbling, and thick smoke was emanating from the stern.

Blaster fire shot through the space between the building, and the ship.

Crosshair drew Tech back.

“Whoa!”

Hunter raced up, and he, Crosshair, and Tech were able to stand nearly side-by-side, firing at droids that had circled the side of the building to cut them off.

Hunter felt the air shake and twirl, and he cried, “Get on the ship! Go!”

The droids started climbing the walls with magnets.

“That’s new,” Echo commented.

Hunter held off the droids while everyone got on board, Tech steadying their damaged ship as it smoked in the frigid air.

Wrecker didn’t want to make the jump, but he was fine once he did.

“Come on!” Tech called.

Hunter fired off one more blast, jumped, a shot grazed his right leg, his leg gave out from the sudden onset of pain, and Crosshair dragged him inside before he could fall. Though the sharp, sudden burst of adrenaline didn’t seem to realize he wasn’t falling to almost-certain doom.

He and his entire squad were panting, but were relieved to be in their ship, which would soon be warm.

No Separatist ships pursued them, the base they’d been on lonesome and solitary.

It wasn’t till they were in hyperspace that they began to fix themselves up.

“Tech, see if you can get a good signal to Coruscant from here.”

He tried.

“Unfortunately, I cannot.”

“Well, we’ll just have to avoid Separatists till the job’s done.

“Ha-ha,” Echo said, though his voice was low, forlorn.

Curious, Hunter went to him, where he was in the co-pilot’s seat beside Tech.

“Do you know where you are, what year it is?”

Echo turned his seat away somewhat.

“Yeah.”

“Are you—”

“I’m not crazy!” Echo protested.

“I never said you were.”

“Yes, I forgot where I was, what year it was, okay? Why don’t you get blown up, and captured and used as an experiment, and see how you are when you come out of it?”

Hunter didn’t take his words personally, just hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Echo didn’t respond.

In the time it took to get close enough to Coruscant to send the data, they patched themselves up, using up all the med patches, bacta, and pain meds in their first aid kit. Many of their staples had to be redone so they could actually stop bleeding.

Echo let Tech handle his injuries.

“He’ll be okay,” Wrecker said as Hunter helped patch up his right arm.

“How do you know?”

Wrecker shrugged. “It’s just one of those things, you know?”

“I guess I don’t know.”

Finally, a sensor went off, and Tech said, “Ah, we are close enough to Coruscant. Let me put in the code I was given in the comm channel.”

“Who are we delivering this to again?” Hunter asked, taking a seat beside Tech.

“A scientist by the name of Dr. Royce Hemlock.”

Crosshair chuckled. “Royce.”

“The one time I don’t want you to talk,” Tech said, “and you actually do.”

This earned him a toothpick to the head.

“Knock it off,” Hunter told them.

They glared at Hunter, then each other, and Tech sighed.

The call began. Hunter hardly paid attention to the man. This was only another mission.

It had to be.

That’s what he would tell himself to get through, to see his men through.

Though, the breathy voice on the other end was irritating and distracting.

Tech relayed the information to Dr. Hemlock, and Hunter drifted off into an exhausted, drugged, pain-induced sleep.

“Only another mission,” he murmured.

Though he tried to keep his eyes open for a few seconds, looking towards Echo. He seemed to be asleep.

He’ll be okay.

He’ll be… okay.

Will I be?

Only… another… mission.

[dangraccoon]

Not To Think

Day 6 ~ unhealthy coping mechanisms ~

Crosshair

Word Count: 1225 Content: alcohol use/drinking to cope, drug use/using drugs to cope, underground fighting ring, drunk Crosshair

“Where’s Tech? And Echo?” “Echo’s been working with Rex.” “And Tech?” … “Hunter, where’s Tech?” “Cross, I-I’m sorry, but–”

Crosshair bit down on his mouthguard harder as he narrowly dodged a swing from his opponent. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t drop the front yet; they were only a few minutes into the first round.

“Ya gotta make it look good,” his manager instructed him. He couldn’t believe he had a “manager”. “Ya can’t jus’ take ‘em down out the gate all the time. Ain’t no money in that.”

So he let his opponents rough him up a little. He didn’t really care about the pain– it wasn’t any worse than he’d gotten before. With every hit, something in the back of his mind thought this is good. Take the hits, make them look like they hit harder than they did, then take them down.

It was easy money and he had to pay for the apartment he shared with Echo somehow, and with his roommate off-world fighting at Rex’s side more often than not, most of the bills–and monotony–fell to Crosshair.

A hard hit to the stomach brought him back to the present, the pain coiling deep within him. The feeling wasn’t… unpleasant. Good, that distant voice purred.

He stumbled, only half-faking, and fell onto one knee. His opponent, a zabrak he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of, stepped towards him, but Crosshair was fast. He swept his legs out from under him, earning a loud wave of cheers from the gathered crowd. Crosshair crawled over him, delivering a swift hit to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

The zabrak’s manager dragged him out of the ring, and Crosshair met his own at the edge closest to him. 

“Ya did good, kid,” the rotund lasat grinned as he counted the credits a disgruntled weequay handed him. 

Crosshair just grunted in response.

“That’s it for the night. Go home, fix ya-self up,” his manager said, handing him a half empty bottle of liquor. “See ya on Zhellday.”

Crosshair grunted again. He took the bottle, drained it, and dropped it to the floor. 

“That was some fight,” a nearly naked twi’lek purred, wrapping herself around his side.

He shrugged.

“Where are you staying tonight?” she tried again.

“Not here.”

She giggled. “I think you meant to say my bed.”

Crosshair eyed her. “Can’t pay you.”

She hummed, brushing a lek over her shoulder. “Maybe I just like sleeping with winners.”

Fuck it, he thought, the alcohol finally hitting his system. 

He followed the twi’lek to a cab that took them to a motel. She shared another bottle of some nondescript alcohol and a few spice sticks with him, and he left her well satisfied, still fixing his clothes as he stumbled out the door.

He caught a taxi out of the red-light district to the outskirts of Pantoran City, and stumbled his way up the stairs and into his apartment.

The lights were on, making his eyes sting.

“–sshair? Hey, Cross–”

Shit, he thought.

“Yeah, ‘shit’,” Echo grumbled. “Some way to greet your brother.”

Crosshair groaned. He was surely in for a lecture. He staggered a little, but Echo caught him.

“Maker, you reek,” Echo complained. He sniffed. “Kriff, did you do spice, Cross?

“Y’ur unn ta talk ‘bout reekin’,” Crosshair slurred, poorly attempting to wriggle out of his brother’s grasp.

“Nope, no, you’re getting a fucking shower.”

Echo felt more like he was wrangling a feral tooka into the bathroom rather than his lanky brother.

He shoved him through the bathroom door standing in between Crosshair and the exit. “Come on, Cross. You know you’re gonna feel better if you get cleaned up,” Echo tried to reason.

“You dunno shit,” Crosshair growled.

Echo sighed. “Right, right. So we’re doing this then?”

Crosshair started to protest, but Echo was faster. He wrestled him into a headlock, dragging Crosshair with him into the wet room. He turned the water on, the chilly spray hitting both of them.

When Echo finally released him, he fell against the wall, catching himself with one hand and his face, directly in the stream.

“Strip,” Echo ordered.

Crosshair started to protest, but stopped himself when he saw his tormentor’s sour expression. Slowly, and with more difficulty than he should’ve faced, he wrestled his jacket off, and dragged his soaked shirt up over his head.

“Cross,” Echo gasped. “What the hell happened to you?”

Crosshair’s torso, arms, and hands were on full display, along with the deep purple bruises he’d accumulated over the last week’s worth of fights. His knuckles had bruises overlapping one another. His arms were covered in scratches, more bruises, and– was that a bite mark?

Crosshair saw him staring and looked down at the imprint of teeth on the skin of his arm. “Tha’ one was consenshul,” he slurred, making himself chuckle.

“Par te cyarir be an kebise urman’la,” Echo grumbled as he climbed out of the wet room to get their well-stocked and well-used med kit. [For the love of all things sacred.]

Crosshair laughed sardonically as Echo rolled his eyes and started laying out the various items he’d need. “Finish up in there so I can patch you up,” Echo said.

Crosshair stumbled out of the wet room a moment later, naked as the day he was decanted. 

Echo sighed, grabbing a towel to hand to Crosshair, who swatted his hand away. “Maker, Cross, just let me help you!”

Crosshair stopped fighting him after that, resignedly accepting it as Echo smeared bacta over his bruises and wrapped them with a gentle, practiced hand.

“What happened, Cross?” Echo asked quietly. “Bar fight?”

“Nah,” his brother answered. “Nuh-uh.”

Echo frowned, his hand resting on Crosshair’s forearm. “Please talk to me, Crosshair.”

Crosshair’s bloodshot and glassy eyes finally met Echo’s. They were tired. And sad.

“I fight,” he muttered. “‘N th’ red-light ‘nd all tha’.”

Echo scowled. “Are you saying you’re part of an underground fighting ring? The ones Riyo is constantly working to dismantle?”

Crosshair nodded gently, and Echo looked like he had about a hundred things he wanted to say, but instead he just took a deep breath. 

“When is your next fight?”

Crosshair blinked a few times. “Uh… Zzz…zhell?”

“Zhellday? Alright, you’ve got three days to sober up then,” Echo said. “Let’s get some meds in you and some damn water.”

Crosshair felt very small, the wall of numbness he’d built up was starting to crumble. If Echo keeps being nice to me, he thought, in a brief moment of lucidity. I might just lose it.

He thought he thought it, but he must have said it aloud because Echo scoffed as he returned with the meds and water. “Yeah, I’m a ray of fuckin’ sunshine.”

Crosshair took the meds and drank the water, though the latter was under protest as he repeatedly told Echo it tasted like shit.

Eventually, Echo got him into his bed, sighing as he finally seemed to fall asleep.

As he stood up, a hand reached out to him. “Echo?” Crosshair whispered.

“Yeah, vod?”

“‘m sorry.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Tryin’ not to think ‘bout ‘im so much.”

Echo sighed. “I know, Cross. Me, too.”

“‘m sorry, Echo,” Crosshair whimpered. Echo could feel his heartstrings tugging. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Crosshair sniffled. “‘kay.”

« Previous Day Next Day »

Thanks for reading! - River

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[phantom-of-the-501st]

And today on things that make me go

"Now that Echo's gone that means Crosshair can come back!"

😐

Crosshair not coming back had nothing to do with Echo being in the Batch. Echo didn't replace Crosshair.

Sure, Echo wasn't there from the start, but that doesn't make him any less of Batcher. They're both a part of that family.

It's a family of 6 people and I think some of us need to realise that this isn't a fight over who gets to be there. They all deserve a space in the squad and hopefully one day we'll see all 6 of them reunited.

Echo leaving didn't create "room" for Crosshair to come back. Crosshair just chose not to join.

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch Week 6

Alt Prompt: "Get out of my room!"

Word count: 700+

Tags: family dynamics, minor angst, teenage angst, poorly written

Omega had a hard day. Her and her brothers had been settled on Pabu for some rotations now, but part of them having a normal meant Hunter made Omega go to the school that was run in upper Pabu, and at first she was really excited. Getting to be like any other civilian. No longer a lab experiment soldier but a real kid. And she was so grateful. But some days were harder than others, the pressure of trying to fit in and having to keep up with all this knew knowledge that the rest of the kids her age had already been taught. It was difficult, she always felt like she was being left behind and only ever just catching up. It was a new kind of difficulty she couldn’t adjust to.

One day she stalked home more irritated than usual, Hunter asked her to make sure she always came home first after school. He was a hover parent. And sometimes it was just too much.

When she got back to the house she went straight to her room, not saying hello and not waiting for anyone to greet her, she wasn’t in the mood to socialise. She was angry, her head hurt from all the concentrating, and her mind was so full from all the new information.

She was overwhelmed and she just needed space. But like usual Hunter came looking for her.

“Kid?” he knocked on her door before stepping inside

“Is everything ok?” he continues

Omega was lying face down on her bed, her bag sitting in a heap on the floor of her bed. She groaned in answer to Hunter, she didn’t feel like talking. Her head was too loud and she didn’t need Hunter poking around, bothering her for answers or conversation.

“Kid?”

“I don’t feel like talking” she said, her voice muffled by her pillow

“What happened? Did something go on at school?” Hunter pressed

“I said I didn’t want to talk. Hunter, could you just give me some space?” she asked nicely but she was beginning to feel hot, her anger leaking out slowly

“Omega I-“ he tried again

“Hunter please. Just get out of my room!” she was overwhelmed and she snapped, her anger coming out in a yell as she pushed her self up suddenly from her pillow and turned to face Hunter. She didn’t want to yell at him but he didn’t listen. He pushed until someone broke or snapped. And she just snapped, her temperament was usually more calm but she just didn’t have it in her to keep her cool.

When Hunter didn’t move she yelled again “Get out of my room!” and finally he did, he was shocked but he hid it well. She only saw it for a moment before he fixed his features and turned to walk out of her room. Closing the door behind him

Omega groaned and smushed her face back into her pillow, sighing tiredly.

As Hunter clicked her door shut behind her he moved to the living room, he had never seen Omega act like this before. He didn’t know what had gotten into her. He was soon joined by Crosshair in the living room. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair.

“What’s with you?” Crosshair said taking the toothpick from his mouth and pointing it at Hunter.

“It’s Omega-“ he sighed “-she seemed botherd by something but she won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to do”

“Hunter, for all of your abilities you can be quite stupid sometimes”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Omega isn’t a child anymore, she’s a person and she’s growing. She what…16 now? She’s a teenager. You can’t expect her to stay the same forever”

“I know but-“ Hunter begins but Crosshair cuts him off

“We are soldiers, not parents. You aren’t going to be able to solve this like you can a problem in a mission. It takes time, both of you need to learn. We all do”

Hunter sighed without responding, Crosshair put his hand on Hunters should and gave it a firm squeeze “She’ll be ok soon, just give her time”

And with that he walked off and left Hunter to think way to hard about his life as a father figure to Omega

I rushed this one a little bit but couldn't find any real substance to it. So this is all ya get lol. I have 13 prompts to fill in 7 days. Wish me luck!

[questforgalas]

Sibling moments in the Bad Batch that live rent free in my head

S1E11 "Devil's Deal" and S1E12 "Rescue on Ryloth"

The batch are literally in Devil's Deal for 2 minutes so we be doing a joint watch babes. Special recognition to the introduction of the greatest hair in the GAR, Captain Howzer, and a lot of screen time for my favorite babes who I wish would stop committing war crimes for the Empire

Devil's Deal

Nothing says family bonding like black market weapon runs

"Tech won't let me train until I can recite all the ship's specifications from memory" IS THE MOST SIBLING THING TO EVER SIBLING LIKE NO YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH MY TOY UNTIL YOU CAN TELL ME EVERY FACT ABOUT IT GOOD LUCK IT'S GOING TO TAKE YOU YEARS

You can't tell me Omega doesn't know all the things she's showing Hera because she's 10000% sat in the copilot chair while Tech flew and asked "what's this? and what's this? and what's this?" repeatedly for days and it was probably the best days of Tech's life

"Did you know flying's about a feeling?" and Tech's immediately concerned "What feeling?" while giving concerned eyes at Hunter

Rescue on Ryloth angsty siblings 👏 angsty siblings 👏 angsty siblings 👏

Crosshair babe please stop hunting down children

Hunter's immediate appearance as soon as he hears sparks and a mini explosion happening

Gonky is the best side character of TBB

"You gave her our comm channel?" oh no big bro is exasperated

Hunter getting absolutely owned by the optimism and rose colored glasses of a pre-teen girl

His face is so "god dam it I'm really proud of you right now but I also wish you'd take a break for just one second"

Tech and Wrecker glance Tech and Wrecker glance

After Hera says "I don't have anyone else to ask", Echo mirrors Omega's same facial expressions and head movements behind her, the little empathetic babes

The grumbles after Omega points out Crosshair's there 😂😂

Here's why I'm putting that as a sibling moment - we've seen this squad face down entire cities worth of troopers at this point (Raxus was just 2 episodes ago, and we've seen them take on 3 ships worth of clones too) without even batting an eye. But one sighting of Crosshair and they're all grumbling and that's what throws them in the "we can't pull this off mentality" and I interpret that as coming from the continuing theme of the Batch being so proud of each other's skills and enhancements, they're so in awe of each other, and the only thing that could ever give them a challenge is one of them. He may be their enemy right now, but they still believe in Crosshair's skillset so much that just him makes them decide to abandon the mission

Wrecker's smile at Echo when Hunter drops down on the probe droid

Crosshair seeing a from-above POV scan of the Batch and knowing exactly where they would've been staking out

"She's trying to save her family, Hunter. I'd do the same for you" BOOM OMEGA COMING IN WITH THE FAMILY FEELS ARROW RIGHT IN THE CHEST

Oh no, this one really hurts after season 2

"We have a battalion of troopers right outside." immediately countered by Crosshair's "That's not enough!" emphasized so much he's jabbing his finger into Rampart's desk. They may be enemies but god these bros are all up in the proud feels

Shout out to Howzer for standing down immediately when Crosshair started glaring at him. Smart guy knows a battle he won't win

"Because he's my brother." this is such a cute Omega episode

Omega's coaching Hera about coming up with a plan is 100% Hunter teachings

"Wh-that was my plan!" sibling 101: never let them have credit

Wrecker and Echo glance Wrecker and Echo glance

the surprised "Really?"s when Hunter gives the ok on the plan like they can't believe their hairbrained scheme actually worked on big bro

Tech's fun smirk when Omega says "Do some damage Wrecker" and Wrecker starts laughing in the gunner seat

Crosshair figuring out the true plan like god dam it they were all so in synch I need a Bad Batch curing the clone wars show immediately I will literally fund it with the $10 in my bank account

The Hunter and Crosshair cut scene stares

Wrecker's high five with Omega on Ord Mantell 😂 he's so proud of his little war criminal sister

Nothing like sibling bonding via showing how to scramble a ship's signature

Tech and Wrecker's smiles at Omega they're so proud of her for making a friend

[kybercrystals94]

To Fight Another Day

By KyberCrystals94

Read on Ao3 here!

Whumptober 2023|Day 6|Prompt 6: Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Grief / Mourning

Rating: T

Words: 592

Summary: “Surviving can hurt like hell, but it is a privilege to have fought alongside the heroes that have marched on ahead of us.”

When they lost Crosshair, it was different. Hard. Impossible. Heartbreaking.

But different.

In the beginning, they thought he had made a choice. Turned against them. Betrayed them. Then they found out about the inhibitor chips, and Crosshair went from traitor to victim, a prisoner to a power outside his control. They would get him back. Someday. Somehow.

And even if they didn’t, at least he was alive. Breathing. Living.

Then they lost Tech, and it was different. Because he was lost with no hope of being found. And they watched him fall, watched him die.

All through the war, clones either cheated Death or died. The Bad Batch made a habit of not only cheating Death, but flirting with it, taunting it, inviting it to get just close enough to feel the icy coolness of its breath down their necks...and then they’d laugh in its dark, formless face and walk away. Perhaps scathed, but alive.

This time, Tech didn’t walk away. He grabbed Death’s hand, held it back, pleaded with it to leave his brothers and sister be, to take him instead.

Death accepted the offer.

Hunter sits at the nav computer, eyes drifting over information without absorption. He doesn’t notice Wrecker at his shoulder, hesitating to interrupt him from whatever spiral of thoughts he’s allowed himself to fall into.

“It should have been me that fell, not Tech,” Wrecker says. His voice is so quiet, he doesn’t even sound like himself.

Hunter’s eyes snap up to meet his brother’s, horrified. “Don’t say that,” Hunter growls, voice hoarse with checked emotions. “Don’t ever say that again. Don’t even think like that.”

“Why not?” Wrecker asks, unaffected by Hunter's reaction, “If it had been me, I might have survived, right? If anyone could have survived that fall...that’s what I was made for. To take the hits no one else can.” Wrecker sniffs and looks away, but not before Hunter sees the tears forming.

“Maybe,” Hunter says, “Maybe you would have survived that fall, but that doesn’t change that Tech sacrificed himself to save you. To save all of us. He made a choice.”

“And we have to live with it.” Echo’s voice is gentle but firm.

Hunter and Wrecker turn to where Echo has suddenly materialized. The cyborg looks worn, expression haggard, probably mirroring that of his younger brothers.

“How?” Wrecker asks.

Echo sighs. “You live to fight another day. To honor them. To honor their sacrifices.”

Hunter swallows, and he can hear Wrecker’s breath shuddering.

“Domino Squad,” Echo continues, “Our first assignment was an outpost on Rishi Moon. Of the five, only two of us made it off that moon alive. Fives and I.” Echo smiles ruefully. “We honored the sacrifices of our brothers in our own ways, but we both lived to fight another day because of them. And when he thought I had sacrificed my life to save the team at the Citadel, Fives continued to fight in my honor too. And now I fight in his, and Tech’s, and all the brothers I’ve lost before. Surviving can hurt like hell, but it is a privilege to have fought alongside the heroes that have marched on ahead of us.”

Hunter nods, but he doesn’t try to speak, and words strangled in his constricting throat.

Death might have claimed one of his brothers, but Death will have to go through him to get to anyone else in his family. And Hunter is ready to face it, to stand his ground. To follow Tech's example.

If that’s what it takes.

END

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