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leapingbadger · 8 days ago

Text

Confined

Summary: The Batch are grounded on Kamino but are unsure why. Takes place after Echo joins but before they meet Omega. (Read it on AO3)

Word Count: 2729

“Crosshair, if you flick a toothpick at me one more time I’m going to stab you in the eye with it,”

“Nice talk, Reg. I’d like to see you try,” Crosshair spat, as Echo scowled and sank into his hammock.

A sheet of rain slammed against the window of their bunk room. They had been grounded for days and the tension was starting to get too much for them all. Hunter wasn’t sure why they were able to stay civil on the Marauder, in much tighter quarters, but when stuck in the sterile halls of Kamino, friction erupted quickly. Maybe Kamino just brought out the worst in them.

“Easy fellas,” Hunter said in a warning growl.

“How long do we have to be stuck here, anyway?” Wrecker wined from his bunk, tossing his tookah doll, Lula, in the air and catching her.

“If I knew that I would have told you already,” Hunter said grumpily.

“Perhaps you could use the time to clean your bunk. You still haven’t located the origin of the smell,” Tech said, without looking up from his latest project.

“You’re one to talk,” Echo said looking at Tech’s bunk scattered with machinery, wires, bolts and other detritus.

Tech raised an eyebrow to his newest brother, “While my bunk isn’t up to regulation standards it isn’t the biohazard Wrecker’s is,”

“Yeah? Well, at least I clean myself. When was the last time you hit the fresher?” Wrecker asked accusingly.

“I’ll have you know that…”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. They all needed to get out of here before they killed each other.

“Where are you going?” Crosshair asked as Hunter crossed to the door.

“To get our orders,”

“Don’t they usually come to us?” Tech asked.

“Yeah, but I’m tired of waiting. Aren’t you?”

With the whoosh of the door, he disappeared into the bright, clinical hallways of Kamino.

***

Hunter made his way through the winding halls of Kamino. He wished he’d thought to grab his helmet. The bright, white light of the halls almost made him squint, and his helmet was the perfect buffer.

He wasn’t really sure how to go about getting their orders. He could go to the command room, but most of the time the Regs didn’t have anything for them. Their missions came from unknown sources, whichever commander happened to be in the room when someone asked for them. But at least he was doing something, and out of the stifling bunk room with his baying brothers.

He weaved in and out through Kaminoan medical techs, hovering droids and Regs on their way to the mess. Two shinies made their way past him.

“What kind of armor is that?” Hunter heard one asked the other.

“Special ops. I think that’s one of the Kaminoan pets” the other responded with a grin.

“Pets?”

“Yeah, the head scientist has her own group she runs experiments on,”

Hunter had stopped in his tracks, forcing others to walk around him.

“You got a problem, reg?” he asked, moving his way over to their side of the corridor. Both men, stopped, looking startled and flustered. Hunter hated how similar they looked to him, or him to them. They may have had regulation haircuts and been devoid of tattoos, but his own eyes stared back at him, and he despised it. He may not have quite reached their height, but he knew how to intimidate when he wanted to, and he wasn’t even trying this time.

“No, eh, everything’s, fine. Sorry.” One of them spluttered, searching his batch mates face for assistance. None was forthcoming.

“It’s Sergeant, or Sir.” Hunter said, authoritatively.

“Yes, sir,” the Regs said in unison.

“Your heart rate’s up a little,” Hunter said to the trooper on the left, “you might want to get that looked at.”

Hunter watched as they scurried away and smiled to himself. He knew he shouldn’t mess with the Regs as a sergeant, but they had started it. They deserved it. He was glad Crosshair wasn’t with him otherwise they both would have ended up in the med bay, and Hunter would have had a mountain of paperwork to complete.

Hunter rounded the corner and almost collided with a Kaminoan. On second glance he realized it was Nala-se. A medical droid hovered over her shoulder.

“CT-9901, we have been trying to locate you. You and your squad are required for testing.”

Hunter balked; they hadn’t been tested since their early missions in the field. What would be the point of doing so now?

“Why?” Hunter asked suspiciously.

Nala-Se ignored his question and began to walk in the direction he had just come from. “Your squad are already in the medical bay. This way.”

Hunter passed the two shinies on his way back through the corridors, the one on the left looking smug. He scowled but felt his cheeks burn as he was led to the med bay, like a creature on a leash.

The whurr of the droid’s boosters, the light of the hallway and the sterile smell of the medical wing all threatened to overwhelm his senses. He was relieved to be led into a large, dim ward and see his brothers each occupying a bed.

“What’s this about?” Crosshair snarled.

Hunter shrugged his shoulders, “What do you think, Tech? can you find out anything?”

Tech pushed his goggles up on his nose from the bunk at the far side of the room. He was bent over his data pad, feverishly pushing buttons.

“I have been searching since we were brought here. There is nothing in our files that would indicate the need for medical intervention. I doubt we will be informed. Short of asking Nala-Se directly.”

“Yeah, I already tried that,” Hunter grumbled.

His brothers were all stripped down to their blacks and Hunter started disassembling his armor without being asked. They had all been through enough Kaminoan experiments and tests over the years to know the drill by now.

When the door on the far side of the room whooshed open, Nala-Se entered, her large black eyes resting of each of the squad mates in turn.

“CT-1409. We shall start with you,”

Hunter watched Echo stand up obediently and give a reassuring nod to the sergeant. He followed the Kaminoan out of the room without a word.

“So, this was why we were grounded?” Wrecker asked

“Must be. Although why they didn’t schedule the tests remains a mystery. This is a deviation from standard procedure.” Tech responded, stroking his chin.

“Maybe this isn’t republic testing. Maybe it’s the Kammies checking up on us.” He said grimly. The four brothers exchanged looks. It had been a long time since they had been strictly under the jurisdiction of the Kaminoan’s. Once they had won their place in the field, they were Republic soldiers first, even if they were Nala-Se’s ‘pet project’. Hunter bristled as he thought of going back to the old way. The testing, the fear of deactivation. They had proved their worth again and again. He wouldn’t let his squad be turned back into science experiments. They’d leave before he let that happen.

It wasn’t too long before the door slid open again and Echo reentered the room. He gave a shrug as he sat down.

“CT-9901” Nala-Se said slowly from the doorway. The Kaminoa’s were nothing if not predictable. Always numerical order when testing.

Hunter gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile to his brothers and followed her out of the room and across the hall to a smaller exam room. The lights were brighter here. A large scanner sat in the middle of the room and Hunter hopped on without being asked.

Nala-se spoke briefly with another Kaminoan pressing buttons on the control panel before retreating. Hunter knew she would be lingering behind the mirror on the far side wall. She was never too far away from her experiments.

Hunter laid down when prompted. The metal bed beneath him was cold through his blacks. The lights above him left spots on his eyes and he closed them in an attempt to make them go away. The machine around him hummed to life, pulsing every few seconds. The sterile smell of bacta and disinfectant filled his nose, so much so he could taste it.

The humming of the machine grew louder. He felt warmth, then heat from either side of his head and knew that the scan was about to start. He felt the crackle of the electricity next to his ears and with a loud whirr, it began.

He opened his eyes long enough to see white light out of the corner of each eye. The warmth he had felt earlier began to slowly lick his skin, then penetrate his skull. It wasn’t painful. The sensation was one of heat, energy and vibration. It wasn’t pleasant but Hunter had received enough blaster bolts, stab wounds, bruises and other maladies over the years that this was tame by comparison.

He didn’t have a sense of how long it took but It ended as abruptly as it had started with no direction from the Kaminoan still in the room. Hunter focused on the glass and closed his eyes to see if he could hear anything. Nala-Se was keenly aware of his enhancements and usually refrained from speaking when he was around.

“…Due to the unusual cranial activity, it is difficult to determine whether it is functioning as intended. I hypothesize that until the order is given, we will not know more. Unless removal and analysis is required before hand.” Nala-Se spoke in her slow, sing-song voice.

“No. They are Kaminoan assets. Test the rest for our files and release them. We will keep a closer eye on them until it happens.”

Hunter couldn’t be sure, but the second voice sounded like the Kaminoan Prime minister, although why he would be involved in routine testing he didn’t know. He sat up on the bench and waited to be dismissed.

Nala-Se reentered the room, her pale, ghostly face indeterminable. She led him back across the hall where he could reclaim his place amongst his brothers.

Hunter watched as each brother in turn followed the scientist across the hall and back. Each one relaying the same experience he had had. Each none the wiser for why they were being tested and what for.

Crosshair was the last to follow Nala-Se. But after the standard time (fifteen minutes according to Tech) he didn’t return. Hunter stood up from his bed and started pacing the length of the room as Tech rattled off the reasons for the delay.

“Perhaps the machinery malfunctioned after repeated use. Or Crosshair could have assaulted one of the medical droids, it wouldn’t be the first time…”

“I don’t like it,” Echo said, “want me to scomp in and see what I can find?” he said, glaring at the astromech interface in the wall under the door panel.

“If you did, they would know,” Tech said with the air of someone stating the obvious. “I’m sure Crosshair can handle anything the Kaminoa’s can throw at him,”

As the time ticked on, and Crosshair failed to return the rest of the batch became as restless as Hunter. Tech’s leg had started to jiggle nervously, Echo’s scomp would whir absentmindedly and Wrecker followed behind Hunter, pacing the same path with heavy footfalls.

It was another forty-five minutes before their brother walked through the door. His shoulders were slumped, sweat beaded in his hairline and he cradled his head in his left hand as though nursing a particularly severe headache.

Nala-Se stood in the doorway, her lanky silhouette blocking out most of the glaring light of the hallway. “You are dismissed,” she stated formerly. “You will return to your barracks. Your new orders will follow shortly.”

“You okay, Cross?” Hunter asked as soon as the door had slid shut behind the Kaminoan.

Crosshair grunted a response. Tech picked up a med scanner from a nearby console and waived it over his brother.

“You seem in perfect health but perhaps we should return to our room to rest. We do not know what the new orders will be.”

Hunter nodded in agreement, “Wrecker, give Cross a hand.” The bruiser nodded and swung his arm under his slender brother, taking most of his weight.

Hunter lingered behind as the others followed them out. He did a double check of the room and his armor and doubled his stride to catch up. He’d told the others of the conversation he overheard but no one had an idea of what had just transpired, even Tech.

***

The atmosphere in their room was entirely different when Hunter walked through the door after their time in the med bay. His squad had scattered to their respective bunks. Wrecker had convinced Crosshair to lay down. The lights had been dimmed, a soft glow emitting from the fairy lights wrecker had made when they were cadets. The smell that had been so noxious to Hunter earlier had faded, or perhaps, he was just getting used to it.

Echo leaned over the side of his hammock as Tech showed him something amusing on his datapad. They both chuckled and leaned closer as Tech’s fingers danced over the keys.

Hunter sighed as he sank into his bunk and started slowly removing his armor again. The rain that had been hammering on the window earlier was lighter now, a restful patter that threatened to lull him to sleep.

He looked over at Crosshair, curled in the fetal position under the blanket Wrecker had lovingly pulled up to his shoulders. Hunter listened intently to his slow heartbeat and was satisfied that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Why had they kept Crosshair so much longer than the rest? He had been hoping to ask him but that seemed unlikely now.

They spoke to each other in quiet voices as Crosshair’s chest rose and fell slowly. There was a sense of relief that whatever the Kaminoan’s were testing for, they had all seemed to pass.

Tech had already hacked into their updated files but found no information about what the long necks were looking for. “I will check again in a few days. If something is there, I will find it.”

Interference by the Kaminoan’s always set Hunter off kilter. He had been lulled into a false sense of security, but today’s events reinstated the notion that their lives were not their own, and not the republics either.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Crosshair was back to his old self after a few hours sleep although couldn’t tell them much about his experience. He didn’t seem to remember the testing.

The squad spent their remaining hours on Kamino spread around the large table in the center of the room. Tech’s projects had been pushed to the far end, much to his chagrin and Sabaac cards sat in front of each squad member.

“Who’s going first,” Wrecker asked, Lula tucked under his arm for luck.

“No using your enhancements,” Echo said, eyes narrowed at his new brothers but a smile on his lips.

“I can’t turn my ears off, Echo,” Hunter said with a laugh, “it’s not my fault your heart rattles in your chest like bantha in heat,”

“I was actually taking to The Brain,” Echo said, shooting a suspicious look at Tech.

“I am no more able to shut off my brain than Hunter his senses,” He replied matter-of-factly and he held his cards up to his goggles.

“Can we just get on with it?” Crosshair hissed. His eyes were still dark from his experience in the med bay, but otherwise he seemed back to his usually charming self.

“Don’t even think about flicking that at me,” Echo said, eyes narrowed at the toothpick in Crosshair’s hand.

“What are you gunna do about it, Reg?” Crosshair said, affectionately.

Hunter signed, a smile crossing his lips. He knew once their new orders came down, they would swing into action. He felt a twinge of worry at the events of the day but tried to push it to the back of his mind for now. He wanted to relax and enjoy the rare, peaceful time with his brothers. Whatever the future brought, he knew they would be able to handle it, together.

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yandere-wishes · 1 year ago

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𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see.

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded.

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back.

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown.

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual.

You stare frozen.

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies?

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat?

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers.

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple."

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll.

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today.

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked.

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment.

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine.

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you.

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here.

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll.

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring.

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered.

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm.

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn.

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts.

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her."

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?"

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to.

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin.

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage.

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself.

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?"

he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space."

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

"I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing.

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin.

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles.

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre.

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices.

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

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mae-lou-ron · 3 months ago

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A Friend Indeed

Summary: Two years into settling on Pabu, Crosshair reluctantly finds solace in some familiar places.

Rating: T (might be G but set as T because I'm just a baby and I don't know how ratings work. Feel free to yell at me if I should change it) Warnings under the cut.

Tags/TWs: hurt/comfort, cute brotherly fluff, descriptions of PTSD, descriptions of sleep paralysis symptoms, recurring nightmares involving medical trauma (nothing described), heightened anxiety around dates, grief processing, mental health probs, just wrecker and crosshair being adorable brothers with their emotional support animals.

WC: ~1,800

A/N: this is the first work I've ever posted. It started as a completely self indulgent drabble of Crosshair bonding with a scrungly stray island cat (still in progress), but I loved writing this brotherly exchange between Crosshair and Wrecker so much it kinda turned into something else entirely by the end? This story falls in line with my HCs that Wrecker is the mediator middle child, Tech is still alive and on Pabu with his family, and that he's an awful snorer. Proofread by me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"And how is this supposed to help?" Crosshair seethed, looking down at the plush tooka doll his brother just shoved into his hand. "I don't need this, Wrecker."

"Oh come on, Crosshair, don't pretend like you didn't borrow Lula when we were younger...like that time you had nightmares after falling off the--"

"Stow it," Crosshair growled, throwing the doll back at his brother, but Wrecker, being used to his brother's temperament, dodged it easily. It tumbled to the floor and Batcher, who had been eyeing the tooka during their entire exchange, didn't hesitate to scoop it up and wiggle her hind quarters, hoping one of them would start a game of chase.

"Listen, I still get them too..." Wrecker said quietly as he took a step towards Crosshair, his hand resting on the sniper's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Want to tell me about it?" He was no stranger to navigating Crosshair's anger. Especially now, after two years of them living on Pabu, two years into recovering mentally and physically from their experiences with the Republic and the Empire, two years of healing the bonds between one another. Wrecker knew that it was always a cover for something more nuanced. So, he was quiet and let Crosshair percolate with his thoughts before he spoke about what was bothering him. After a few moments, Crosshair grumbled, resisting the urge to shrug his shoulder free, but the wall he put up cracked just enough.

"It's just..." Crosshair’s hand clenched into a fist at his side. Batcher flopped down on her bed dramatically at being ignored, still holding the tooka gently in her mouth. "It's not just the nightmares..." he mumbled. Wrecker took a half step back, eyes soft and trained on his brother's deep furrowed brow and scowl at opening up like this. But Wrecker was patient.

When Crosshair continued, his voice was barely a whisper, "Sometimes when I wake up I'm still stuck there and...I can't...I can't move..." he trailed off, his mind flitting back to that morning.

He'd woken from the dream, or so he thought. Tantiss' medical droids were still swirling in his periphery, the smell of disinfectant still sharp in his nose. His nervous system immediately reacted, seeking to lash out, to escape, but his body didn't respond- for a horrible moment he thought he might be strapped down again but no, nothing was biting into his skin, he simply couldn't move. He tried to speak, but the words remained on his tongue.

No. He thought bitterly. They're not here. I'm not there.

He kept repeating this in his head, almost like a mantra as the panic coursed through his body. The droid never came close enough to touch him, but still close enough to be a threat. It felt like an eternity until his tunneled vision brightened slightly, the bits and pieces started to fade, and his bedroom in his Pabu home came into the forefront. He could finally feel his limbs thawing, the weight of the blanket on his feet, the rising sun casting speckles on the wall, the sound of seabirds calling in the distance. These things helped ground him enough to remember his training, he slowed his breathing in an attempt to quiet his pounding heart. It worked, but it didn't quiet completely, not until he could feel his toes wiggle.

Wrecker's warm hand gave his shoulder another squeeze, gently bringing Crosshair back to the present moment. Crosshair glanced up at his brother's scarred face, into his concerned, mismatched eyes for a fleeting moment before shaking his head and casting his eyes back downward. Wrecker was always a good listener despite his boisterous demeanor. He never tried to talk Crosshair out of how he was feeling, or suggest solutions unless asked. He was content to be an ear to bend and a shoulder to lean on.

And Crosshair would rather be slowly digested by that massive tentacled sea creature in the bay than have all of his family members concern be directed towards him. Hunter watched and hovered too much and it only frustrated Crosshair more. Tech would listen and be sure to provide the most annoyingly practical solution. Echo was his first choice to go to about this specific issue, but he was away again and difficult to get a hold of these days. Omega, his heart softened a little thinking of her. She would drag him to the cliffs and insist they meditate, look at him with those kind, concerned eyes. His eyes.

No. Absolutely not. Wrecker was his best option at not driving Crosshair back into himself. And he was so tired, so the wall came down a bit further. He looked up quickly again to make sure Wrecker was still listening. He always was.

"And they're...often," The sniper's lips pressed into a thin line. "Almost every morning this past week," Crosshair continued. "And sometimes in the middle of the night, which are the worst," he spat out so quickly it took Wrecker a second to process what he said.

"This happened last year around this time too," Wrecker thought out loud. Crosshair cringed at the realization he'd already known, but grunted in affirmation. He had learned that sometimes this is how it goes, especially around dates with any significance, and they returned from Tantiss for the last time on this day two years ago.

Wrecker looked thoughtful for a moment before his face brightened at a sudden idea. He strode around the room and started gathering the cushions and pillows, tossing them into a pile in front of the couch.

"What are you doing?" Crosshair drawled wearily, his eyes following Wreckers movements. He was already regretting his decision to speak more freely about this.

"I'm getting comfy," Wrecker said plainly as he settled down amidst the pile of pillows, leaning back against the couch. Batcher took this as an invitation to dig out her own spot at Wrecker's side, Lula in tow, settling down with it under her chin. "See?" he said, his tone light. "Let's camp out here!" He said spreading his arms wide before returning his hands to the back of his head. "You know like back on Kamino in the training storage room whenever Tech would snore too loud?" He grinned at the memory. "Hunter would always find us and act all annoyed but he just always wanted to know where we were...and get away from Tech's snoring,"

"Still does," Crosshair snorted, one corner of his mouth curling up slightly. Admiration for his brothers pulled him out of his resolute melancholy a little more. He settled down on the other side of Batcher, resting his arm over her back like he'd done a thousand times before. The hound grumbled at him when he lifted her chin gently to retrieve Lula.

"No." Crosshair said firmly. Batcher's eyes still followed the doll but she settled back down. He held Lula before him, taking in the tattered fabric, the stains, the patches added to mend rips and burns. One of her ears was almost completely gone.

"This thing is...disgusting," Crosshair scoffed quietly, it was almost a chuckle.

"Yeah, it is," Wrecker laughed heartily. "But she's been with us the whole time. Look..." he said pointing at the burn across the doll's back. "That's from when those clanker disrupters I made for your fire puncher went off in the barracks, remember?" He smiled widely remembering how angry Tech was at them for setting his bed on fire, while he was still in it. And Wrecker's, but that was nothing new back then. He continued regaling Crosshair with anecdotes about how the blemishes were made over the years.

Wrecker suddenly yawned, stretching and settling further into the nest, "Alright if I sleep here tonight," he said drowsily, more a statement than a question, his eyes still bright. Stars, he was a terrible liar, but Crosshair appreciated his attempts to not wound his pride. To give Crosshair the choice for his company without having to ask for it.

He was working on it.

"I suppose," he drawled. It was already late when his brother came by to check on him— and it's not like Wrecker would be easily moved at this point anyway.

Crosshair, resigned but thankful for the company, studied the tooka for a while longer. The knot in his chest loosened slightly at the reminder of the joyful and chaotic moments they've shared. Bright moments poking through the darkness like the stars studding the night sky. Instead of tucking the doll under his arm or clutching it to his chest, he stuffed it behind his head before settling back onto its familiar softness.

Crosshair folded his arms over his chest, closing his eyes and tuning in on the sounds of the insects chirping softly outside, the distant waves were harder to hear now that the tide had retreated, but still added to the calmness that now descended upon the island. Batcher grumbled in contentment, and soon Crosshair's breathing matched Wrecker's, lulling him into a more peaceful sleep than he'd had all week.

The next morning when Crosshair opened his eyes, the frightening things he may have dreamt about didn't follow him. They stayed where they belonged, far out of his periphery. The bright orange morning creeping over the horizon chased away some of the shadows from his mind. Not all of course, but, some. Wrecker and Batcher were still right beside him, both very real and sleeping soundly. He wiggled his toes experimentally. Pleased when the joints flexed on his command. He could move and get up if he wanted, but it was still far too early to rise and start the day. Instead, Crosshair did something he hasn't done in weeks- he went back to sleep.

Maybe he was still right, he thought as he drifted off again, Lula still tucked under his head. Maybe he didn't need this, but he had to admit, it helped.

#tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb batcher #the bad batch #that pabu life #tbb fluff #the bad batch fluff #star wars fan fiction #the bad batch fan fiction #tbb Crosshair fan fiction #tbb wrecker fan fiction #tw ptsd #tw sleep paralysis #mae lou ron writes

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hugmekenobi · 5 months ago

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S3: The Bad Batch (13)

Chapter Thirteen: Into the Breach

Gif by @trapezequeen

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Omega gets to work on an escape plan of her own. Meanwhile. the Batch aren't about to let a chance to get to Tantiss slip away

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, me making up science and medical stuff, Rampart, Hemlock being a manipulative creep, heavy angst, mentions of injections and drugging for interrogation purposes, injury descriptions (blood, bruising, cuts), depictions of physical and emotional torture, lotta internal conflicts, referenced character 'death', me giving more conflict to Emerie's internal struggles

Word Count: 7.6K

Author's notes: It's a tough one this week and that will be the remaining theme as we enter these last few chapters but there's light at the end of the tunnel, I promise!!

It was another new day and Omega, now back in the plain grey uniform, had come to terms with her predicament now and was growing more accustomed with the daily routine of the vault. She woke up as the artificial light encompassed the room and her cell door opened.

She had given it a while, but she’d decided that now was the time to plan not only her escape, but the escape of all the kids here. And she would find you in the process. But, to do that, she needed the kids to know that they could trust her.

Omega walked out into the room and approached the young female Iktotchi with her old straw Lula doll. “Hello. I’m Omega.” She said warmly.

“I’m Eva.” Eva replied, a tad shyly.

“What’s that?” Omega asked about the hologram in front of Eva.

“A game. They want us to play them.”

Omega glanced to under the tabletop to see a drawer. She opened it and brought out a case filled with coloured puzzle pieces, each of a different shape. “I like your doll.” She said as she fiddled with the pieces, hoping the comment would help Eva feel more at ease around her.

Eva clutched the doll tightly. “Dr. Karr gave it to me.” Eva turned off her game as she said, “She’s the only nice one.”

That gave Omega a flicker of hope that perhaps her words had had more of an impact on Emerie than she’d thought but she followed Eva’s concerned look to the glass windows above to see the hordes of scientists lurking and staring down at them, “Are they always watching?”

“Yeah. The droids too.”

“That’s Jax.” Eva pointed to the green Mirialan that had answered Omega’s question before she introduced the others. “Sami, and Baryn. This is Omega.” She said to the three of them.

Omega nodded to the Pantoran girl holding the Tarlafar baby. “How long have you all been here?”

“They don’t like it when we talk to each other so much.” Sammi said nervously.

“And if you cause problems, things only get worse.” Jax added mournfully. “Come on, Sammi.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” Sammi said dully as she followed Jax to another table.

Getting used to it was not in her plan, but she’d bide her time. Omega carried on arranging the shapes in front her, but her mind drifted to you- if they were all to play games, she had to anxiously wonder about what kind of games Hemlock had in mind for you.

“Good morning, Emerie. What’s on the schedule today?” You croaked with forced enthusiasm as the door opened. You already knew the answer, but it was the same question you’d asked every time since Hemlock’s plan for you had been enacted that first morning after you’d arrived.

Emerie swallowed tightly as she walked in with the troopers. You look particularly bad today- your cheekbone was purple, and the swelling hadn’t quite gone down yet and the cut on your lip was still open and oozing and she was sure your ribs weren’t doing much better after the beating you took yesterday. “Dr. Hemlock wants you back in the training room.” She said, hoping she didn’t let her discomfort slip through.

The reprieve from the uncomfortable position and biting metallic cuffs was always short-lived because it was instantly replaced by the cruel, pinching grip on your upper arms.

You were pulled to your feet, and you bit back the groan that threatened to spill from your lips as your sore and tired body protested the action. You watched Emerie walk over to you and take your blood sample. “And then I’m assuming we have our regularly scheduled session with the good doctor afterwards?” This was the only part of the routine that varied. If you weren’t taken to that room, you remained in the cell and had more rounds with the interrogation droid and honestly, you welcomed the training room days because that was a pain you could cope with more.

“I… believe that is his plan, yes.” Emerie said, shifting her eyes from you as you were marched past her.

“Don’t look so sad. After all, you’re part of a great scientific adventure.” You remarked over your shoulder as you were led away.

Right… somehow that didn’t feel so good anymore. You had attempted to sound satirical, but you were too weak to convey it effectively so the genuine dullness and pain in your voice was the only thing Emerie had heard. She shook the counter-productive sympathies away and headed to process your sample before she went back to the vault.

You stayed still as you let the trooper tie the blindfold over your eyes- you were used to this by now too. It was only after that was done that you were shoved into what you assumed was the training room that was always being referenced.

The blindfold was Hemlock’s way of keeping the secrecy element of this room intact. Plus, he claimed it was a way to see how your Midichlorians reacted when channelling the Force in a threatening situation because without your sight, you had to use the Force to guide you more.

“You know, for someone who claims to be sophisticated, you sure do like seeing me get beaten up.” You called out, knowing he was somewhere observing this whole thing. The response, however, came in the form of an injection in your neck and your entire body seized up- this was an unwelcomed change. “What-” The internal effects were instantaneous and all too recognisable. Dread and fear started to squeeze around your chest.

“An alteration to my methods. I wish to study how you handle both the physical and mental strain when meeting them together, rather than tackling them separately.” Hemlock explained as he nodded to Scorch to leave the room after the injection had been successful. He then gestured to the four operatives to come into view. “Begin.”

You stood unsteadily on your feet as that familiar haziness and fogginess set in, but you found strength in the Force and pushed it away to focus on the other threat that was about to happen.

You sensed the bodies around you.

There were four of them.

Each one of them were poised and ready to fight.

You parried away the first series of but a strong kick from someone else landed against your still injured and bruised ribs. Winded, you tumbled back a few paces.

“I want you to remember Deveron.” Hemlock began.

You couldn’t help it; the memory of that first meeting was as clear as day in your brain and the warmth the nostalgia brought you felt as though you were right back there. No, snap out of it, don’t let him twist these memories for his own gain. Knuckles grazed the side of your head as you managed to duck just in time but the pain that shoving away the memory was all too real.

“I want you to remember the Reek stampede.”

Your back stiffened as the emotions of that day and what it had meant overwhelmed you but clearing your head quickly, you anticipated the punch to your jaw and took a half step back to avoid it, but you weren’t fluid in your steps and setting yourself again left your stomach open for another onslaught of blows.

Hemlock quashed his own irritations at the lack of progress and kept pushing, though the language he had to use now left a foul taste in his mouth but it was for a greater purpose so he could make do for now, “I want you to remember every bonding moment with Clone Force 99.”

“I want you to remember the first time you met Omega.”

“I want you to remember Kamino and afterwards when you and Hunter told each other your… affections for one another.”

You choked as the oxygen was snatched from your lungs as pushing away those beautiful memories brought with it a different but just as crushing kind of pain. You didn’t manage to stop the series of punches that landed on your nose and mouth this time. The harsh taste of iron flooded behind your teeth as blood dripped down the back of your throat and from your nostrils. You hastily spat it out but there was a steady distracting deluge of blood leaving your nose now.

“You can feel that happy again. I’m allowing that for you. I have them here and you can be back with them all again. Omega is safe too.”

You deflected the kick to your thigh but fumbled avoiding the kick to your back as you felt yourself growing more passive under his words. He sounded so genuine, they really could be- no, it was all fake. He didn’t mean it. It was a false reality.

“You can feel that all again. They’re right outside and they’re waiting for you.”

No, no one was waiting for you. You avoided the strike that was intended for the back of your knee and questioned in a breathless panic, “Where are you getting all this from?”

“Tech has been most informative, and I’ve learned all sorts about you. He wants to see you again.”

That broke the illusion, and it was where he slipped up. You already knew Tech was dead, you were so certain of that and so his lies to that matter had no effect. You weren’t sure how he knew all these references but at least you felt your focus coming back more as you smoothly avoided and parried away a series of jabs and kicks from your attackers.

Hemlock noticed you gained more clarity after he said that, evidently there’d be no way to convince you of that fact without giving everything away, so he went back to the original tactic. “Don’t you want to be with them again? They’re your family, are they not?”

The impact of the statement sent you tripping backwards of your own accord. Your recovery was slow, and you barely managed to avoid the punch to your cheek and your chin took the follow up blow.

“You hear them calling for you.” Hemlock taunted as he watched you go between fighting with yourself and the attackers surrounding you. Your strength was something to be admired but he needed it to work for his purposes and for that, you needed to break.

You could, you could hear their voices, they were calling your name, but they sounded distorted, something wasn’t quite right with them. It couldn’t be them; Hemlock would never allow for such a peaceful thing.

You blocked the oncoming punch but a shove to your chest sent you stumbling backwards.

“Don’t you wish to go to them?” Hemlock maintained the scenario as he observed you.

Yes- no, it wasn’t true! You fought with your own brain before another strong punch to your jaw distracted you from the internal battle and you sensed the follow-up kick coming for your stomach which you dodged.

“You only need to join me, and I’ll promise you’ll be reunited.”

No, no you couldn’t do that. They weren’t here, he was lying. They- This time, you felt the tip of a blade slice through your clothing and across your skin. You yelped in pain but before you could react, a kick to that wounded area sent you sprawling to the ground, and you contorted in agony as a combination of fists and feet stamped on your side and the fresh cut there.

“Enough.”

Upon Hemlock’s command, you immediately felt the bodies above you stop but all you could hear in your mind were the warped and falsified voices of your family and you hated it. You longed to be around them again, you longed to talk to them again, and you knew it wasn’t possible. “Make it stop, make it stop.” You whispered frantically as you clutched your head.

Hemlock gave you that relief. He needed you as clear-headed as possible for the next session in order for his tests to be the most effective and for the results to be an untainted as possible. “You can no longer hear them. You know that you’re back in the training room.” He told you.

His words sank in, and your breathing evened out.

The mental effects of the dosage began to fade but only enough to make the physical pain you were feeling more apparent.

Hemlock crouched down next to your beaten body. “Such unnecessary suffering. It can end, you need only accept my proposition.” Hemlock offered as he wiped away the blood secreting from the various wounds on your face.

The offer always got the same response from you, “Go to hell.” You wheezed as you slapped his hand away and braced yourself against the ground. You gingerly sat on your knees and pressed your hands to your side in an attempt to stop the steady flow of blood leaving the cut.

Hemlock only chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, I believe you’re already there. And we’re not done yet.”

Your throat tightened with fear as you heard the threatening promise in his words.

The images and sounds you’d been subjected to still remained faintly in your head as you were harshly tugged to your feet. Your feeble struggles against the hold the troopers took of you had no impact as you were pulled from the training room, but you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself up properly, so your feet dragged behind you.

Hemlock avoided the spatters of blood dripping from your body as he walked just behind.

Rampart paced irritably across the filthy and decrepit landing platform, “Where in the blasted galaxy did that pirate abandon us? And why are you keeping me here?” He directed his question towards Hunter.

Hunter didn’t so much as glance up from the datapad as he replied, “You’d prefer we take you back to that Imperial labour camp instead?”

Rampart sighed, “We had a deal. I already told you what I know about Tantiss.”

Hunter angled himself to face Rampart this time. “You’ll get your freedom when we get the exct coordinates to that base.”

Before Rampart could argue further, the sound of an approaching ship interrupted him.

Hunter made sure to push past Rampart’s shoulder as he went to go meet Echo.

Echo came down off the ramp and clasped Hunter’s hand in greeting.

“Nice work.” Hunter complimented as he took in the new ship Echo had acquired.

“A stolen shuttle is the best I could do on short notice.” Echo said. “The supplies we need are aboard.” His face hardened as he saw Rampart. “You really think we can trust that hydrosnake?”

“I can hear you.” Rampart scoffed pointedly.

Hunter half-turned back to Rampart. “No, but he’s our best chance at finding them.”

His brother may have been putting on a convincing front, but it still wasn’t his usual ‘put together’ nature- something just felt off. Echo hesitantly started to ask, “And… how are y-”

“Fine.” Hunter replied roughly.

Echo figured now was not the time to push the matter further, so he simply nodded and turned back for the ship.

Hunter followed Echo on-board.

Crosshair hit Rampart’s back with his rifle to get him to move. Was it necessary? Probably not but he found the displeased look on Rampart’s face at the action rather amusing.

Wrecker shoved Rampart down into one of the seats. “Now, start talking.”

Rampart groaned in exasperation. “Oh, how many times do I have to explain it? Hemlock put safeguards in place to keep his base’s location a secret.”

“But you’ve been there before?” Hunter said, his frustration at Rampart’s persistent evasiveness making his tone more aggressive than

“Any ship going there must first dock at Imperial Station 003 in orbit over Coruscant where the coordinates are transmitted directly to the navicomputer.” Rampart explained.

Echo pulled up the hologram of the station. “Well, his intel about the orbital station checks out.” He agreed reluctantly. “But I can’t confirm the rest of his story.”

“Do you think I’m lying?” Rampart said with an offended scoff.

“Yes.” Crosshair and Wrecker said at the same time.

Hunter analysed the map, “Once we reach the station, we can find a ship departing for Tantiss and pull the coordinates.”

“We’re going to need Imperial clearance codes.” Crosshair said.

“Got that covered.” Echo confirmed.

Rampart interrupted the proceeding with a chuckle. They made is sound so simple, yet their naivety was astounding. “Unlikely. Those codes change every rotation.”

“Which why we’re not waiting around.” Hunter responded impatiently.

“Even with a stolen shuttle and clearance codes, you can’t expect to walk onto an Imperial station completely unnoticed.” Rampart pointed out.

“But you can.” Crosshair countered.

“And we’ll be your security detail.” Hunter added on.

“You just walk us right onto the station.” Echo rounded off the brief by chucking Rampart an Imperial uniform.

This was never in the arrangement. “You cannot be serious.” Rampart argued.

“You were an Imperial before. Impersonating one should be easy enough.” Hunter said unsympathetic to Rampart’s unease.

Rampart supposed he better get on board with this quickly or he’d be landing himself right back on Erebus but there was still one small issue that had to be rectified at once. “I can’t wear this. It’s a captain’s uniform.” He pointed to the rank markings on the top but all he received in response was a series of blank, uncaring faces. “I was a vice admiral.” Surely, they had to understand how improper this was?

“Well, you’ve been demoted.” Echo replied bluntly.

“I hate clones.” Rampart muttered to himself.

Omega sat in the cot in her cell as Emerie kneeled in front of her.

Emerie reached for her hand. “It’s time for your sample, Omega.”

“The other kids. Where did they come from?” Omega asked as her blood was being drawn.

“I don’t know. But they are well looked after here.”

“I’d like to believe you.”

Emerie withdrew the vial and placed it in the small storage slots that came from a hidden compartment in the walls.

Whilst she was distracted with that, Omega sneakily stole a sharp implement from the testing kit and slipped it up her sleeve.

“And… is she being well looked after?” Omega noted the way Emerie made sure to avoid her eyes as she tidied up the equipment.

“I’ll be checking on her soon.” Emerie replied, using her words carefully and she left before Omega could ask any more questions and headed upstairs to join the other scientist on the observation level.

Omega watched her go and she let her mind drift to worrying about you before she focused on the task at hand. She’d make sure to see you soon.

“Letting Omega intermingle with the specimens in unwise.” Dr. Scalder advised as she saw the girl join one of the tables.

Emerie paid little attention to the objection. “They’re engaging in the activities I’ve provided to keep their minds active. Besides, they are under our watchful eye.”

“That didn’t stop her from causing problems in the past.”

“I’m the chief scientist. I will run the vault as I see fit.” Emerie said definitively. With that, she left the room to go join Hemlock next.

“How often do the droids take our vitals?” Omega asked covertly as she pretended to play with the puzzle game.

“Twice a day. After meals.” Eva informed her boredly.

“What about the troopers? Do they ever come in here?”

“Only when we cause trouble.” Jax informed her.

“Jax tried to escape once, but he didn’t get very far.” Eva revealed.

“There’s no way outta here. We’re never going home.” Jax said with a sad sigh.

Well, that wasn’t how she was going to go about this. “Want to know a secret? I escaped from this mountain before.”

All of them perked up at that.

“Really?” Eva gasped.

“How?” Jax asked as a follow up.

“I had training. And I wasn’t alone. Know what else? I’m doing it again, and I’m taking you all with me.” Omega said confidently before she moved the box aside to show them what she’d been working on. “Look.”

All the kids gathered round to see what she’d created.

“It’s a layout of the vault.” Omega explained before she labelled each section of the improvised diagram. “This is where we’re sitting right now. These are the walls. These are the tubes in the walls the droids use to transport our samples. I need to get inside and see where they go.”

“Only the droids can access those hatches.” Jax said.

Omega messed up the puzzle piece layout to avoid attracting attention and subtly revealed the tool she’d snagged earlier. “I can get them open. I just need them not to see me.” She glanced up to the observation deck.

“Won’t take them long to notice you’re missing.” Jax pointed out.

Omega simply gave an unphased smile, “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

The blindfold was whipped off you as you were brought back to your cell, but you had no time to adjust since you were hastily tied up again.

Hemlock waited until the cuffs were back on and you were chained to the wall again. “Bring in the droid.”

Emerie entered with the droid that had the serum ready to go but came to a sudden halt as she took you in.

There was no ignoring your freshly bloody and beaten appearance but that was the norm now.

What wasn’t the norm, however, and it was the element that caught her off guard, was the still distant and glazed look in your eyes that tended to follow as an aftereffect of the interrogations.

“Dr. Karr?” Hemlock queried as he saw the sudden and unusual reaction.

Emerie fumbled over her words slightly, “Am- am I late, Dr. Hemlock? I… thought you had business in the training room first?”

“No, you are right on time. I merely… adjusted our technique.”

“Sir?”

“Come, Dr. Karr, you know that the pursuit of knowledge and getting results sometimes requires that we alter how we go about our research and that includes our interactions with specimens.”

What he’d done clicked with her then and suddenly the idea of putting you through, yet another round so soon felt like a very bad idea. “Should we not wait longer? If her body needs to recover more, this session could-”

“No, our methods need to get more aggressive. This is the new approach. Do you have a problem with that, Dr. Karr?” A firm challenge behind the softness of his tone.

Emerie snapped out of it, “Of course not, Doctor.” She handed Hemlock the datapad with the questions and scenarios that seemed to get to you the most. She put the monitor on you and connected it to her own datapad. She hated watching this part the most, but Hemlock had charged her with taking your samples and monitoring your vitals during this, so she had to stay.

The electronic warbling from the approaching droid always sent a cold rush of fear through your heart. You knew it was pointless to resist but the way your body instinctively tried to get away from the needle couldn’t be helped.

You inhaled sharply as it pricked your neck and that groggy, yet detached bodily sensation swiftly overcame you once more.

Hemlock released a content and easy sigh, “Now, today I think we’ll go with your dear Sergeant Hunter.”

“No.” You groaned as you already started to pull against the chains. “Not him.” You pleaded as your resistance crumbled away. You closed your eyes as you were helpless to what was to come.

Hemlock ignored you, “Do you feel that heat, that burning pain in your body?”

You had to conserve what fight and strength you had left so you allowed yourself to let those words take hold but what you couldn’t do was allow him to use Hunter to get to you in this way.

You felt the fire course through your veins and your body seized up with the intense pain it brought. You tugged against the chain, but it brought you no relief.

Satisfied that he had a hold on you again, Hemlock kept the torture going, “That agony, that burning pain that you’re feeling that feels like every nerve is on fire? Like your very being is being burned from the inside out? He’s feeling that too. As it gets worse for you, it gets worse for him.”

Hunter’s senses, he wouldn’t- no, he was safe. He wasn’t in pain. You told yourself as the burning in your own body intensified under Hemlock’s words.

“You can hear his cries…”

And you could. You heard Hunter screaming out your name. Screaming, pleading, begging for your help. They raged in your head, and you needed them to stop.

You yanked against the chains and your breathing came in the form of short, sharp pants and your body heaved with the effort of fighting against the serum’s effects and Hemlock’s voice.

“He’s calling for you. He wants you to make it end. Don’t you want to help him?”

Yes, you’d do anything to help him. You could join Hemlock, you’d do that for- no, stop. You told yourself.

“He’s in pain, he’s begging you to help him.”

“Hunter…” You rasped with a broken cry.

“He wants you but he’s hurting. And it’s because of you.”

Tears escaped your shut eyes and slid down your cheeks.

“I can end his suffering, just surrender to me.”

Yes, surrender and save Hunter- no, you’d never hurt him, and Hemlock wasn’t either. It was a lie. You thought internally as you continued to strain against your confinement so that the words wouldn’t take root.

“I’ll make it stop. I’ll let him hold you.”

Yes, that’s what you- No. Hunter wasn’t here, he couldn’t possibly be here. You reminded yourself as you tossed your head from side to side to rid yourself of the security that idea brought you… that made you all the more susceptible to Hemlock’s voice and his suggestions.

You had to push it away. You inhaled sharply and groaned, and you knew you’d succeeded when the pain came raging back again instead.

“Sir…” Emerie interjected timidly. She didn’t like the way your vitals were looking right now.

Hemlock raised his hand to quiet her and kept his attentions fixated on you. He’d seen a subtle change in you, a willingness to cooperate that hadn’t been present before. He needed to get back and now he knew the way to do so, “Don’t you want to feel his comfort once more?”

You thrashed against the chain and violently shook your head as if you could physically get rid of the images being created in your head, “No, it’s not real, it’s not real!” You cried as your entire body convulsed in both mental and physical agony.

“Oh, but it is…”

“It’s not.” You whimpered, but your conviction faltered for a moment as Hunter’s image entered your head and the comfort it brought you felt so real.

“And you can see him…”

No, remember it was a trick. “Stop!”

“Dr. Hemlock-” Emerie attempted to interject again as she kept an eye on your rapidly deteriorating vitals but again, he gestured to her to stay silent.

Hemlock continued his torment, “You can go to him…”

“No, I can’t! He’s not here, he’s not here!” Saying the words aloud was the only way you could fight against both your physical captor and the one in your mind. You were uncaring of the way the cuffs dug in and rubbed the skin of your wrists raw as you writhed in pain.

Hemlock noted your distressed reactions, but it didn’t matter to him, he could see this was the way to break you and he was almost there. “Just give into me and he’ll be yours again.”

“Stop!” You begged through hoarse and strained breaths.

“Dr. Hemlock!” Emerie urged more strongly this time as she saw the way your body was collapsing due to the strain of resisting the serum’s effects. If he went on for much longer, you wouldn’t make it.

Hemlock glanced at Emerie’s datapad and saw the minor cause of her rather ill-timed and inconvenient anxiety. He ground out a sigh and relented. Her interruptions would only hinder things. He stopped and allowed Emerie to take the droid away and monitor off.

Hemlock waited a few minutes for you to stabilise and come back to the present moment again. You were a formidable adversary which is why he knew he had to have you in his ranks and that meant altering his methodology further. “Increase her injection level. We go for longer next time. No interruptions, Dr. Karr.”

Emerie clutched her datapad tight to her chest and, without clearly thinking it through, started to protest the order, “Dr. Hemlock, her body can’t handle-”

“I know what she can handle, Dr. Karr.” Hemlock said sharply before he crouched down to your level and brushed his hands through your hair before he tucked his fingers under your chin. “Unless you wish it to stop. Why suffer more? All you have to do is join me.”

Your body heaved with each distressed pant as you made yourself meet his eyeline. “Go to hell.” You spat with as much venomous spite as you could muster. You managed a tired, half smirk of your own as you saw the flash of frustration behind his eyes.

Hemlock inhaled and exhaled a deep sigh to calm himself. “See it done for the next round today. Be sure to take her blood. We’ll still need records of how her M-Count reacts to each technique.” He directed Emerie as he past her and left the room.

“Yes, sir.” Emerie said quietly before she approached your side with the sampling equipment and injected the needle into your hand. She gulped as she saw the new dark red bloodstain on your clothing and the fresh blood leaking through your clothes that was now forming a small puddle on the floor. She feared what would become of you if that wound went unchecked. “If you just joined him, it would stop. You-”

“I can’t, Emerie.” You said through gritted teeth as you pressed yourself against the wall and closed your eyes. You ignored the stinging and dripping wound on your side and allowed yourself to drift off into nothingness because that was the only time you found peace now.

“We’re approaching Coruscant.” Hunter informed Echo as he came to see how he was getting on burning the paint off his helmet like he’d been doing for himself and the rest of their armour pieces.

Echo lifted his helmet as he heard the words. “All the armour’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in.” He tossed Hunter’s now all black helmet to him. “You really think Rampart can pull this off?”

Hunter caught it but didn’t put it on right away. He stared at it and his mind drifted back to a very different time.

He remembered back to his squad’s first official missions during the war, back when they’d all wanted to blend in.

But it had soon become clear that that wasn’t an option any of them wanted to follow. Establishing their own stand-out colours had been a significant moment, it hadn’t felt like it then, but it was.

Then they’d only grown more into the squad that they were today. The squad that owned who they were and the differences that came with that.

A tradition that had carried on when Echo joined.

And when you’d joined.

And when Omega joined too.

He recalled the days of Ord Mantell and when Lyra had changed their traditional red and black colours to the hues of blue, red, yellow and orange. It had marked the end of an era but also the beginning of a new one.

He’d remembered the pride and affection that had swelled in his chest that day when he’d seen that his colours had mirrored yours.

But now all those meaningful colours were gone. And the memory of that would be something he’d hold on to.

Rampart’s indignant cough at Echo’s words as he emerged from the refresher pulled Hunter out his thoughts. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t just make it to vice admiral on looks alone.” He had to admit it, it felt good to have his hair and beard no longer be a tangled mess and he relished being back in proper uniform again, even with an inferior rank.

Hunter said nothing, he only turned and went to the pilot’s seat and put through the transmission coming from the station.

“Rho-class shuttle, we have you on approach. Please identify.”

Echo activated the ship’s comm channel as he replied, “This is transport shuttle Alpha-44. Transmitting landing codes.”

There was a series of beeps as they all awaited confirmation.

“You’re clear to land at docking bay 5-tac-02.” The technician permitted.

“We can’t stay docked for long.” Echo cautioned. “This shuttle’s bound to be reported missing soon.”

“Assuming we’re not captured or killed during this little mission, what assurances do I have that you’ll let me go?” Rampart interjected.

Crosshair stared at him. “You’re going to have to trust us. Just like we have to trust you.”

“So don’t mess this up.” Wrecker added sternly.

Rampart turned to the big clone, “Hmm. Mess this up? I know how to carry myself.” He said self-righteously. “You’re the ones that are gonna stand out like overheated Gamorreans.”

This ship docked successfully, and it had been decided that Hunter, Crosshair and Echo would form Rampart’s security detail whilst Wrecker staying behind to watch the shuttle.

Before the four of them disembarked, Hunter caught Rampart’s shoulder and angled Rampart’s body towards him. He ignored to disgusted look on Rampart’s face at the action and began his warning, “The Empire betrayed and imprisoned you. We broke you out. Remember that before you try and betray us.”

Rampart obnoxiously wiped the spot on his shoulder where the clone’s hand had been. “I’m here, aren’t I? Let’s get this over with.” Rampart grumbled as he led the way off the shuttle.

Crosshair and Hunter donned their helmets like Echo had done earlier and stepped off to greet the Imperial that had just walked through the hangar doors.

“Who is responsible for this vessel? It is not on my docking manifest for today.”

Hunter took point and stood in front of the officer whilst the others remained behind by Rampart’s side. He remained still and silent as the Imperial examined him, but it was taking more willpower than he’d expected to wait this inspection out. He didn’t have time to humour Imperial questions.

“What division are you with? These uniforms are not regulation. I asked you a question, trooper.”

Rampart decided it was his moment to step in now. He shoved past Hunter and addressed the officer, “My division. And my orders are classified. If you have an issue with that, Lieutenant, then contact Governor Tarkin.” Rampart felt rather smug as saw the name have the desired effect. That flash of panic followed by an immediate desire to comply from subordinates was a part of the job he had missed dearly. “Now carry on.”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The Lieutenant automatically straightened up and went back through the doors he had come from.

Rampart turned back to the clones and waved a hand towards the doors, “Shall we?”

Rampart led the way to the desired destination. “The control room is up ahead. We can access the station manifest from there.”

“Just do your thing and get us inside. We’ll handle the rest.” Echo said frankly.

The insolence he constantly received from these clones was getting to be a little much. “That’s ‘Do your thing, sir’.”

“I don’t think so.” Echo replied in a low, disapproving growl.

Rampart paused as they reached the guarded door and spoke to the two officers, “Troopers, you are relieved.”

“Captain?”

“Report to the barracks. You’ll receive further instructions.”

“But, sir, we just started our shift.”

“Perhaps you’d like to spend a few rotations in the brig for violating Article 15 of the Imperial standing order 10?” Rampart threatened.

The two troopers glanced at each other. “No, sir.” With that, they moved out.

The group of them made it into the control room but the technician was willing to be as accommodating or passive as others had been.

Hunter barely let him get his protests out, he stunned the Imperial but caught his body and laid him gently on the ground rather than letting him fall harshly.

Crosshair shut the door whilst Echo plugged into the system.

“This is taking far too long. Can you crack the encryption or not?” Rampart asked anxiously.

“I’m working on it.” Echo snapped, unplugging and pushing past Rampart to try another terminal.

“Hunter, I had to sideline an Imperial. Someone might come looking for him.” Wrecker said over the comm channel.

“Copy that. Have the shuttle ready to go.” Hunter glanced over at Echo as he heard a series of more positive sounding beeps.

“I’m in.” Echo confirmed as he read the information now on the screen. “A science vessel docked in Bay 8 is set to depart for Tantiss, and soon.”

“Let’s get to that navicomputer and pull the coordinates.” Hunter ordered swiftly.

“We can’t. The vessel is tagged for uplink after it launches.”

“Which means there’s no way to get the coordinates.” Crosshair deduced. “Did that slip your mind?” He directed the question to Rampart.

“You expect me to know technical details like that?” Rampart disputed.

Hunter wasn’t prepared to let this chance slip away. They- he- needed those coordinates no matter what. “Then there’s only one option left. We can’t extract those coordinates. But that vessel is heading to Tantiss. That’s our way in.”

“What?” Rampart questioned in disbelief. Surely they realised this was venture was now dead in the water.

“It’s the only chance we have of finding them and freeing those prisoners.”

Rampart sighed, there was that naivety again. “Science vessels have heightened security protocols. There’s no way you can all sneak aboard undetected.”

“But I can.” Echo volunteered.

“You can’t go alone.” Crosshair argued.

“He’s not.” Hunter said. “Once you’re aboard, find a way to disable the proximity sensors. We’ll follow behind, then attach our shuttle to the hull and hitch a ride directly to Tantiss.”

“Now, wait just a minute. This is not the plan I agreed to.” Rampart objected strongly.

“Plans change.” Crosshair sneered.

Hunter caught Echo’s shoulder as he passed, “They’ll monitor comms. So, we’ll have to go radio silent. Watch your back.”

The four of them left the room and split off.

Omega watched as the droid left and when it looked like the scientists above were not looking, she slipped into her room and used her tool to jimmy away at the wall panels.

She was successful in taking a few of them apart which allowed her to stick her head through the gap and take in the shaft of space behind the panels and was pleased to see there was room for her to manoeuvre around and explore what lay beyond the walls of the vault. However, as she her shoulder and more tumbled down, making more noise than she was comfortable with.

Omega knew she didn’t have a lot of time, Dr. Scalder kept a very keen eye and had probably noticed her absence and so was most likely already on her way down. She hurriedly tidied them back up and sat innocently on her cell’s makeshift bed as Dr. Scalder entered. “Hello, Dr. Scalder.” She said casually.

Dr. Scalder said nothing and cast her eyes around the room for signs that anhthing was amiss.

“Is something wrong?” Omega inquired.

Dr. Scalder only gave a mild hum in response before she walked out and left the vault to go back to her post.

Omega released a relieved sigh and rejoined the rest of the kids.

“Well?” Jax asked.

“Did it work?” Eva followed up.

“Uh huh.” Omega replied.

“What did you find?” Sammi asked quietly as Baryn played on her lap.

“Our way out.” Omega said confidently.

Hunter and the others ran onto the ship just as Wrecker was ridding the shuttle of the unconscious Imperial.

“’Bout time.” Wrecker grunted before he gently sat the Imperial down on some crates and placed his cap back on his head and joined the others again.

“Hunter, I’m inside the ship. It’s launching right now.” Echo commed in.

“Get those sensors disabled.” Hunter hastily powered up the ship and set it off for the pilot’s seat to get the ship in the air and in the direction of the shuttle Echo was on.

Using the droid transport chute had meant that Echo had successfully snuck aboard the shuttle leaving for Tantiss but where he’d run into trouble was in the form of the unnecessary delay caused by the trooper sent down to investigate his activities down below.

“What are you waiting for?” Wrecker asked as Hunter slowed the ship down.

“The proximity sensors haven’t been deactivated yet.”

Rampart- in his nervous state- had already strapped himself into one of the seats in the main hold. “This isn’t going to work. Their proximity sensors will detect us and shoot us down.”

“Relax. Echo’s on it.” Crosshair said to him.

With the trooper and his cover taken care of again, Echo was able to get back to work on disabling the sensors.

Hunter glanced down at his console as the beeping grew more incessant as it was indicating the ship ahead was getting ready to enter hyperspace.

“They’re about to jump.” Crosshair said, a hint of his own anxieties coming through now.

Hunter’s own resolve stayed steady. This wasn’t going to fail, he was getting to Tantiss, and Echo wouldn’t let them down. “Echo will come through. He just needs more time.”

“Which we don’t have.” Rampart stood up now and pushed past the other two clones who stood in the hallway just behind the pilot’s chair. “He’s probably been captured. Abort the mission.” He urged.

Wrecker and Crosshair only waited. This wasn’t their call to make or have a say on this time.

That wasn’t an option and no one, certainly not Rampart, was going to convince him that it was. Hunter kept his eyes fixed on the shuttle ahead and his voice was cold and unyielding as he said, “Negative.” He powered up the engines again and made for the bottom of the shuttle. He turned the ship upside down right as the console indicated that the sensors were down. He attached to the Tantiss shuttle just as it entered hyperspace.

They were getting those clones out of there.

They were getting Omega out of there.

They were getting you out of there.

“Oh, come on, Emerie. You’re killing me here, aren’t you a little early?” You moaned as you forced yourself up, wincing as the cut on your side felt like it ripped itself open more. It seemed like you’d only just finished the latest round with torture droid equipped with the new parameters Hemlock had set out and yet here Emerie was again.

Emerie found that she really didn’t like that that’s all you associated her with. She wanted to pursue knowledge and be known for her science, not hurting people. “I’m not- I’m not here for that.”

You just about managed to open your eyes but did a doubletake because you weren’t certain that what you were seeing wasn’t due to the blood loss and there was the possibility it was another one of Hemlock’s tricks. Getting to tell reality from hallucination was proving to be more challenging with each injection he put you through and this was one of those occasions where you weren’t sure what to believe because in your cell was Emerie.

Alone.

Holding a medkit and a flask of what you hoped was water.

“You’ve not been injected with anything.” Emerie could tell that’s where your thought process was heading as she knelt down next to you and pushed up the top of your uniform to examine the angry knife-wound on your side. Before she attended to it, she held the flask to your lips and let you drink from it.

The water cooled your sore throat, and the small act of unexpected kindness allowed the spark that Hemlock was doing his best to snuff out to grow more again.

You felt a few drips spill down your chin as she took it away, but you were too fixated on the way she was now attending to your injury to care, plus she’d seen you in far worse states.

“Why are you doing this? Why bother helping me?” You hissed in pain as she cleaned the wound and placed the bandage over it. You guessed the reason she hadn’t stitched it up or used any bacta was so that Hemlock remained unaware of the outside assistance, but you’d take any help you could get.

Emerie hesitated; she didn’t fully have the answer herself yet. “I don’t quite know but I do know Omega would want you to get through this.”

At Omega’s name, you felt a new surge of strength flow through you. “How is she?” You whispered.

“She’s fine. I’m doing what I can to watch out for her.” Emerie replied before she unscrewed the cap of the canteen again.

You huffed out a relieved breath. “Good.” You welcomed the final swig of water she offered you. “How long do I have?” You asked as she removed it and got the stuff together in order to leave it as though she’d never been here.

“About 40 minutes.” Emerie admitted, her voice solemn.

“Bring it on.” You said with a tight, pained smile.

Next Chapter>

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