#Bugg tcw

[dangraccoon]

I Won't Leave You

Crosshair & Hunter

Warnings: intense training, discussion of decommissioning, loss of squad members (OCs that I made to explain why Tech seems to carry multiple roles), resignation to a supposed death

Note: this fic is not clone shipping. Nothing I write is clone shipping.

Mando'a Guide Osik'uram - rude person (literally "shit mouth") Di'kut - idiot

Crosshair’s arms were getting sore from holding up the too large rifle. The weight of it was familiar, but it had been hours of holding it up; his arms were getting weaker. 

“CT-9904,” the surly bounty hunter—who was now his instructor—growled. “How can you possibly expect to be a sniper if you can’t hold still?”

Crosshair knew it was a rhetorical question; he’d been punished for “speaking out of turn” when he’d answered before. He wouldn’t answer him this time, despite the resentment boiling in his gut. Instead he just rolled his eyes under the cover of his helmet. 

“Run it again,” the instructor warned. “Do better this time.”

That all too familiar knot formed in Crosshair’s throat, but he swallowed it down. Soldiers didn’t get nervous, right?

The simulation began and he fell into a rapid rhythm, taking down training droids one by one. 

Simulated sounds of war blared over the speakers; explosions all around him, screams of people being injured, never ending blasterfire. Then the rain started. Crosshair felt the temperature in the room drop. He hated the cold. His hands tightened on his rifle, but did not stop his rhythmic firing. 

The rain grew colder and heavier until it would be nearly impossible for anyone to see clearly through it, but Crosshair wasn’t just anyone. His eyes adjusted rapidly, easily seeing through the sheets of freezing rain. 

He’d been counting, of course. He only had 14 more targets and the simulation would be over. Maybe I can leave after this round, he thought, knowing that this was only the eighth time they’d been through this simulation today. Idly, he wondered how his brothers were fairing in their training today. 

A noise behind him nearly startled him, breaking his concentration and his rhythm. He spun around just in time to see the blue circle of stun bolt about to hit him. 

He woke up in a medical bay, head aching and eyes burning from the bright lights overhead. 

A medical droid hovered next to him. “CT-9904, you are awake,” it told him. “I will alert the medic.”

Crosshair watched the droid go, irritated by its happy tone, then closed his aching eyes. 

“Hey, Cross,” someone said. That voice was far too familiar. 

“Hunter,” he replied simply. 

“You okay?”

Crosshair didn’t answer, his brow furrowing into the deep scowl. 

“Right, stupid question,” Hunter admitted. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t think so,” Crosshair shrugged. “Head hurts. Lights are too bright.”

Hunter wasn’t sure what to say, but as the newly minted leader of their squad, he figured it ought to be something positive. “Don’t worry, Cross, you’ll get it next time.”

Crosshair sighed. “There won’t be a next time, Hunter.”

Hunter scowled at his slightly younger brother, even though the other couldn’t see him. “Don’t talk like that.”

“We should just accept it,” Crosshair shrugged. “I got lucky during the initial testing; I only outshot Tech by six points.”

“Crosshair, you were made to-”

“I hate that he’ll have to take my job when he’s already got Fixer and Bugg’s on top of his own.”

“Cross-”

“Maybe you could take on piloting, too,” he suggested, ignoring his brother and squad leader’s attempts at redirecting the conversation. “I know you scored higher than me and Wrecker.”

“Would you just-”

“Oh! And make sure you don’t tell Wrecker that 99 and I made Lula for him; I’ve got an image to maintain even after I’m dead.”

“You’re not gonna-”

“You gotta make sure Tech sleeps. I know he’ll be busy with four roles instead of three, but he’ll work himself to death before choosing to sleep. But if you wrap him up in a blanket like a tubie, he knocks right out.”

“Crosshair, please. Please stop.”

He did, unable to continue after hearing the desperation in Hunter’s words. 

“You’re not getting decommissioned,” Hunter affirmed.

“Hunter-”

“No. I was too late to save Bugg and Fixer, but I’ll die before I let the long-necks take away another one of my brothers.”

The regret and guilt that permeated his voice stung. He knew Hunter blamed himself for not helping the others enough, but hearing him now, he realized that his older brother blamed himself entirely for the loss of their brothers. 

“I-” Hunter whispered, not daring to look at his brother. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t,” Crosshair promised, reaching out to touch Hunter’s wrist. He looked up to see his brother’s signature smirk. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, ya know.” (I won’t leave you.)

Hunter chuckled as he wiped a stray tear onto his sleeve. A sense of normalcy crashed over him like a wave. “Yeah, well, first time you go off on your own during a training sim, I’m throwing you in the water.” (I won’t let you.)

Crosshair scoffed. “Osik’uram.” (I love you, brother.)

“Di’kut.” (I know, and I love you, too.)

Thanks for reading! - River

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[dangraccoon]

I Will Never

Day 25 ~ being monitored ~ "it's for your own good" ~

Hunter

Word Count: 822 Content: clone cadets and clone mistreatment, so therefore child abuse and referenced past child abuse, threats of violence, references to order 66

Mando'a Guide: kih'vod - little brother ke’gyce lo’shebs’ul narit - you can shove your orders up your ass

Hunter’s head was pounding as he crouched at the floor of the simulated forest floor. The holographic dirt shifted between his fingers, wafting back down to the ground. He took a deep breath, stood back up, and followed the trail he could see ahead, the broken branches and displaced dirt shone lighting up in his vision.

He was tired. Hunter was so tired, but he ran anyway. He needed to finish this test and then the trainer said he could go back to the barracks. He could do this.

As he worked through the seemingly endless woods, something caught the corner of his eye, a rustling sound coming from the South. His body froze as he looked towards the distraction.

He just caught the tail-ends of light hair, long, curly, and barely kept orderly. 

There he is, Hunter thought somewhat smugly.

Hunter took off in that direction, unable to keep from noticing the way the transparent plastoid on the face of the training helmet fogged slightly with each heavy breath. He hated this damn thing. 

His trainer growled over the PA system. “CT-9901, if you take your helmet off one more time–”

Tech’s eyes darted over to him. “Hunter, don’t–”

“I can’t breathe or hear anything!” He’d barked back, helmet tossed to the ground. “How am I supposed to use the osik’la abilities you gave me in this thing?”

The simulation stopped, his brothers all looking back toward him in surprise. Hunter didn’t blow up like this.

The trainer walked into the room, storming to Hunter. He scooped up his helmet, taking a deep breath to start berating him but was stopped by Nala Se saying his name over the intercom. 

The ex-bounty hunter scowled as he shoved Hunter’s training helmet back onto his head roughly. “It’s for your own karking good, clone,” he growled. “Take it off again and I’ll make sure your head goes with it.”

His gear felt heavy as he finally began to encroach on his target’s location. 

Just over the ridge were several gunships in a small clearing. Even in the darkness, he could see that this could easily be a trap, but that didn’t bother him.

As he walked towards the gunships, his steps nearly silent and his practice blaster drawn, he could hear his heart rate pick up. Relax, he told himself. Too many beats per minute and it would affect his score. 

He got to the edge of the first gunship, body stilling. He listened.

The light, misty rain hitting the metal roofs threatened to distract him, but he pushed past it. 

His target was too used to him, but he knew a weakness. He glanced down at his belt, finding the knife he’d found himself becoming fond of. Gripping the blade, he reared his hand back and flung the knife through the air, hitting the metal of another opening just right for the doorway to deflect it. The knife fell to the ground, sticking up in the dirt. Hunter’s movements stilled once more as he listened for that inevitable sound.

There, he thought as his senses honed in on one particular sound he’d heard before. A small huff akin to a taunting laugh.

He tread to the second gunship, dirt shifting almost imperceptibly beneath his boots, though he could hear it. 

His gun led him around that last corner, finding Bugg in his sights with a smirk.

Bugg’s eyes rolled back as he held in a curse. He held his hands up in defeat as Hunter attached the elimination puck to his uniform. Hunter chuckled at Bugg’s dramatic sigh.

“Well done, CT-9901,” the voice of his trainer called through the comms in his helmet. Hunter’s eye twitched at the volume. “Now, complete the mission.”

Hunter blinked. “Sir?”

“Are you stupid like that monster you call ‘brother’? Your mission was to track and eliminate the target. What are you waiting for?”

“I already gave him the puck,” Hunter reasoned. “The mission is over.”

His trainer sighed. “There aren’t any stupid little pucks in war, little clone. You have live rounds. Use them.”

Bugg’s eyes went wide as he searched Hunter’s face. “H-Hunter?”

“It’s gonna be okay, kih’vod,” Hunter assured him, his scowl deepening. “I won’t shoot my brother.”

“You don’t have a choice,” the trainer taunted. “Obey the order, soldier, or it’s two weeks intensive solo training, no rations. Good soldiers follow orders.”

Hunter growled as he threw his rifle down. He stared up into the simulated sky, where he knew the room he was being monitored from was situated.

“Guess it’ll be the solo training then,” he spat, throwing his helmet on the ground. “Ke’gyce lo’shebs’ul narit, because I will never hurt my brothers.”

The simulation faded around them as the trainer stormed in, stopping directly in Hunter’s face. “Is that how you talk to a superior, clone?”

“Sorry, sir.” Hunter feigned a retraction of his attitude. “I meant ‘ke’gyce lo’shebs’ul narit, sir’.”

Mando'a Guide: kih'vod - little brother ke’gyce lo’shebs’ul narit - you can shove your orders up your ass

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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 @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

Wow, you made it this far down? Have my OC 99s made in @squad-724's picrew (found here)!

This is Bugg (CT-9905), who is mentioned in this fic

And Fixer (CT-9906)

Well, that's what they would look like if they had survived to adulthood

And our canon boys (with a few creative liberties read: piercings added)