#halt and catch fire season 1

[fandom-mix-16]

"Are you gonna get bored of me?"

She looked for answers in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said.

He didn't reassure her. Instead, he told her the truth.

Maybe that's enough.

[vertigoartgore]

Halt and Catch Fire's pilot episode ("I/O") aired 10 years ago today. Feel old yet ?

Even though...

"Before the official series premiere, this episode was made available on AMC's Tumblr page on May 19th, 2014. It was the very first TV series to do this."

[leepace71]

Joe Macmillan (Lee Pace) Halt & Catch Fire, Season 1

[potato-gay]

Watching Halt And Catch Fire with my Dad and suddenly he gasps and goes "Joe's doing the right thing for once?!"

[lady-pug]

Anything For You

Summary: 5 times Crosshair protects you and 1 time you do the same for him.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, one dude being kinda creepy at 79's

Notes: Hello hello everyone! It's been a hot minute since this series has seen an update, but after season 3 I had some inspiration (I know it has been a while since season 3 actually come out, but some things had happened that needed my sole attention, I didn’t have the time nor the energy and motivation to write for quite a while). But now I’m back!

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided. Also, when describing the formal attire in topic 3 I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum so you can imagine what the reader is wearing in this scene (I’m a sucker for women in suits, but it’s up to you to imagine)

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1.

The Batch’s mission on Taanab had gone south very quickly. The Separatists had aimed to cut the commercial lines the planet held with Coruscant, which would pose a major problem as it could possibly throw the entire Republic into starvation. So Clone Force 99 had been sent to scout the planet and possibly find Separatists spies stationed there. What they didn’t count on was being ambushed by Norulac pirates almost as soon as they tried to leave the planet.

Tech and Hunter had gone inside a facility suspected of housing the spies they were looking for, while Wrecker kept watch by the entrance, and you and Crosshair covered their shebs from a hill a few klicks away. What you didn’t expect was for Tech to take a major hit as soon as they walked out the door with the spy. In order not to compromise the mission, Wrecker pushed the cuffed nautolan back inside the compound and closed the doors behind them. 

As soon as the first blaster bolt was fired, you leaped to your feet, much to Crosshair’s protests, and started running towards Tech, medkit clutched tightly under your arm. Crosshair, ever the marksman, kept shooting his Firepunch, trying to get rid of as many pirates while you pushed forward. As you approached the place where Tech had gone down you skidded to a halt, keeping your head down as to avoid the blaster fire. Slipping your hand under his armpits you dragged him across the pebbled ground (and mentally apologized for any scratches he might find on his backplate later on), taking cover behind a short wall and starting to patch him up.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the pirate approaching from behind you and Tech while you assessed his injuries, who must have either slipped unnoticed by Wrecker and Hunter or come up all the way from behind the facility. You only seemed to notice him once Tech, coming back to his senses after a stim shot, pointed over your shoulder and told you to look out. By then it was already too late, as the pirate had his vibroblade raised and ready to strike.

As you fumbled with your blaster to at least try and protect the two of you a long blaster bolt came scorching through the air, hitting the man right on his temple and sending him tumbling sideways, dead. You glanced back towards the hill you had just climbed down from, sending a nod in Crosshair’s general direction, knowing he could see you with his scope.

“Thanks for having my back, Cross.” you spoke into your commlink before resuming your work on Tech’s wound, barely catching Crosshair’s reply.

“Anything for you, Copikla.” he mumbled, going back to firing his rifle in order to help his brothers take out the remaining pirates.

2.

The woman was definitely moving too fast for someone who allegedly had nothing to hide. And Clone Force 99 was hellsbent (more like ordered to) figure out why.

Your current mission, issued by Commander Fox of all people, albeit a stealth mission of sorts, wasn’t like anything you had ever done before. A Gran representative of Malastare, acting as a temporary substitute for Senator Ainlee Teem while the senator went back to his home planet to help calm the nerves and appease the public opinion of the citizens of Malastare about the rampage caused by the Zillo Beast, was suspected to be working for the Separatists. Afraid that an investigation lead directly by the Coruscant Guard would be too on the nose and she might try to cover her tracks, Commander Fox had surprisingly, as him and the Batch often didn't see eye to eye, requested that the Bad Batch be the ones to follow her around and figure out her intentions.

So here you and Crosshair were, following the woman a few paces behind her all throughout Coruscant busy streets. The plan of action had been to split up, Hunter and Wrecker taking the two parallel streets to the one where the woman was currently speed-walking while you and Crosshair followed behind her. Tech had stayed behind at the Guard’s headquarters, tracking the woman’s movements using the surveillance system. 

As the teams were being separated Crosshair had demanded that you go with him (although ‘demand’ might be too strong of a word, as he knew Hunter, as his commanding officer, could very well tell him to shut up and take a step back, which he thankfully didn’t), internally reasoning with himself that you could very well get lost and compromise the mission, even though the knowing smirk the Sergeant had sent his way after agreeing with his suggestion told him he might have other reasons. And now he was glad he insisted on that.

As dusk fell over the city and rush hour approached, more and more people filled the streets eager to head home. This didn’t pose a problem for Crosshair as his height, greater than that of the regs (and quite greater than Hunter’s, as he often liked to tease his vod about) paired with his extraordinary eyesight allowed him to keep his eyes on the Gran woman at all times. You on the other hand weren’t so lucky, as people bumped into you and tried to squeeze their way past the both of you. Concerned you’d slip away, dragged by the sea of people, he snaked his arm around your waist, his hand lazily draped over your hip, keeping you close to his side and not letting you venture away from him.

You looked up at him, a tiny grin gracing your features.

“Thanks Cross.”

The only response you got was his grip on your hip. tightening almost imperceptibly.

3. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Hunter sighed for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

“I already told you, these are our orders.” he turned towards his brother, who scowled in return.

“Why can’t one of us go in?”

“As a matter of fact, that option has been brought up to Commander Cody,” Tech chimed in, not once taking his eyes off his holopad “but he has reminded us of a crucial fact: no matter how much our phenotype might differ from that of the regs, we’re still clones. If a single slightly more enlightened individual in that ballroom catches sight of our resemblance to our mandalorian progenitor, the mission would be compromised.”

Crosshair huffed, still not convinced.

“But why does it have to be her?” he argued “Why couldn’t they have brought another natborn specialist? Or, kriff, even a senator? Senators are good at these sorts of events.”

“Senators are public figures, they would be recognized in an instant.” Hunter promptly answered “And all other female natborns were unavailable.”

“And the Seppie likes pretty women!” Wrecker laughed “I mean who doesn’t? I’m sure none of us would be able to seduce him!”

“I still don’t like it.” unsatisfied, Crosshair picked up his Firepuncher to check the scope, even though he knew for a fact it was pristine as always. 

A beneficent gala was being held by the InterGalactic Banking Clan to members of the Confederacy of Independent Systems council in Cantonica. One Separatist senator, a sleazy old quacta of a man, was rumored to have information on the next course of action regarding a siege against Republic forces in Ansion. So, given the sensitivity of the mission ahead, Clone Force 99 was called in. However, none of them could go in without the risk of being recognized as members of the GAR, so they had to send in-

“How do I look?” he was buried so deep in his own thoughts he didn’t even hear the door to the fresher opening and you stepping out into the hull of the ship. As he looked up to glance at you, he thanked the maker he was already sitting down, otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have been sent tumbling down.

You looked gorgeous. 

Your hair was styled in a completely different style than you normally wore it, a few delicate pins adorning it. Some light makeup covered your face, accentuating your natural beauty. And your outfit… Crosshair had only seen you in your uniform and armor in the battlefield, or in your GAR-issued blacks around the ship. He had never seen you wearing anything like this, so formal and fitting for your exact frame.

He couldn’t even speak. He just kept staring at you, his eyes moving up and down your frame.

“You look beautiful, baar’ur’ika!” Wrecker’s booming voice brought him out of his stupor, as he shook his head.

“You really think so?” you asked, feeling a little shy “I never usually wear something so nice, this is a bit out of my comfort zone.”

“You look amazing Doc.” Hunter chimed in, nudging his brother with his elbow, his lips pulled in a knowing smirk “Doesn’t she, Crosshair?”

He was still collecting his thoughts when you turned to face him, eyes gleaming with… hope? 

“Yeah,” he dared answer “yes, she does.”

You beamed at him, smiling so brightly he felt his heart skip a beat for being the reason for your happiness. He wasn’t even bothered when he heard Hunter chuckling under his breath, no doubt catching on his vod’s reaction to your presence. 

As your squad started diskimbarking to start the mission, Crosshair reached out to hold you in place, his fingers gently encircling your wrist, leaving just the two of you still on the ship.

“If-” he swallowed thickly, not knowing how to say what he was thinking. 

“What is it, Cross?” you turned towards him, giving him your full attention.

“I’ll be keeping watch on the roof the entire time.” he breathed out “If anything happens, if at any moment you feel like you might be in danger, comm me. I’ll find a way to get you out, Copikla.”

You smiled softly at him, turning your palm up and intertwining your fingers.

“I’ll be fine, Cross. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.” Impossible, he thought, and as if reading his mind you squeezed his hand gently “But thank you for keeping an eye out for me.”

He squeezed your hand back, lips turning up in the tiniest of smiles.

And if at a certain point during the gala, a glass of wine carefully balanced on a tray on a waiters hand spontaneously exploded, startling the waiter and making him drop the entire contents of the tray over the separatist senator as he started getting handsy with you, Hunter’s scolding for nearly compromising the mission was definitely worth it as you giggled at his antics behind the sergeants back.

4.

79’s was certainly more packed than usual for a standard Taungsday. It seemed like most battalions were on leave at once, hence the more chaotic atmosphere and the crowd forming around the bar. 

It had been forever since Clone Force 99 had shore leave scheduled on Coruscant instead of being called back to Kamino, so you intended to make the most of it. Wrecker was already a few drinks in, arm wrestling some of the boys of the 212th; Echo was catching up with some of the boys in blue, having spend so much time away from his old battalion; Tech had already gone back to the barracks to read some articles on his holopad, the weird neon green cocktail he had order right at the beginning of the night only half empty and long forgotten; and Hunter had already scurried off with a gorgeous orange Twi’lek. 

Only you and Crosshair remained at the table, chatting idly, your thigh pressed against the side of his and his arm slung over the back of the seat behind you. Your heads were tilted close together in order to hear each other over the beat of the music in the club. For a moment Crosshair thought it felt weirdly… intimate, even though you weren’t actually doing anything. He’d never been this close to anyone, where he felt he could just let himself be. It was nice.

“I’m going to get another drink.” you whispered-yelled at him at one point, gesturing at his own cup “Want anything?”

He pondered for a moment, before declining with a shake of his head.

“Someone has to keep a clear head in order to babysit the lot of you.” he motioned to where Wrecker, clearly a little more than tipsy, was celebrating another victory over a shiny.

You snorted, before quickly turning around and walking towards the bar. He couldn’t help but silently watch over you, always keeping you in his line of sight.

It had become second nature to him, watching you. At first he tried to argue that it was only to ensure you didn’t do anything stupid and risk one of his brothers, but it slowly ended up becoming something he just did naturally. He wanted, no, needed, to ensure you were safe at all times, and not just on the battlefield.

As he watched you lean over the bar and signal the bartender, your back turned to him, he noticed a devarionian man quickly glance over at you from a few seats away. For a few moments nothing happened, he kept his eyes trained on you, occasionally catching sight of the devarionian from the corner of his eye. 

And then the guy was moving.

He slid up next to you, standing way too close for your (and Crosshair’s comfort). The mirror above the shelfs in the bar let him see your face,  and you did not seem too happy with your new company. At first you tried ignoring the man, he noticed, giving him very clipped answers and only nodding along. The guy, it seemed, couldn’t seem to take a hint, as he kept rambling on and on about something the sniper couldn’t bother reading his lips for. And the moment his hand brushed against your arm, startling you and prompting you to take a step away from the man with ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘creeped out’ written all over your face, Crosshair was out of his seat and crossing the dancefloor towards you in quick strides.

Once he approached the pair of you, you noticed him over the man’s shoulder, your face relaxing slightly at the sight of him.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, to which the devarionian turned to him seemingly undisturbed. 

“Yeah, me and the lady over here were having a wonderful chat.” the devarionian dismissed him “ Now if you’ll excuse us.” 

Crosshair knew he was tall. He, along with Tech, was the second tallest amongst all clones, shorter only than Wrecker. It wasn’t something he usually cared for, unless when he got to tease Hunter about his own height, which was shorter than the regs, but he knew for a fact he was taller than most people. So he decided to use this to his advantage. As his face contorted into the deepest scowl he could muster, he crossed his arms over his chest, squaring his shoulders. This meant he was absolutely towering over the man. He didn’t even have to say anything and the devarionian was already cowering.

“A-actually, I think my buddy over there is calling me over.” and he rushed off without even looking at you again.

You looked at Crosshair as he relaxed, a mixture of gratitude and a sense of residual unease written in your face.

“Thanks Cross,” you started “but I could’ve handled him. You know I can take care of myself.” 

“Trust me, Copikla, I know.” he shrugged “But you shouldn’t have to.” 

Your face softened at his words, and you leaned your head against his arm. 

“Thank you anyway.” 

His response came in the form of a wordless hum, but which carried a whole lot of meaning to it.

‘Always’.

5.

Crosshair absolutely hated keeping watch. He would take Wrecker’s snoring and Tech’s endless tinkering over this any day. They were in hyperspace, for maker’s sake! What threat could be so dire that one of them had to stay awake and alert for hours, freezing cold as Tech refused to fix the cockpit’s heating system?

But Hunter insisted. And as their sergeant, Hunter was in charge and whatever he said goes. And so here Crosshair was, watching nothing go by bored out of his mind.

All of a sudden he heard the soft pattern of bare feet against the cold floor of the Marauder, approaching the cockpit. It couldn’t possibly be Wrecker, he could still hear his snoring from all the away from the bunks. It wasn’t Echo either, as the clanking of his mechanical legs against the durasteel floor would have given him away. It probably wasn’t Hunter, as the man was an incredibly deep sleeper, his slumber being one of the only one moments his heightened senses gave him a break. And Tech wasn’t supposed to come relieve him from watch duty for at least three more hours or so. So that left only you.

Because of this line of thought he was unsurprised when you joined him in the cockpit, dropping onto the co-pilot seat next to him.

For a moment neither of you uttered a word. He stayed silent as he took you in, noticing the way your shoulders trembled slightly and the soft sniffles you were trying to contain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked at last.

You startled, as if only now noticing his presence next to you. Once you calmed down you simply shrugged in response.

“Nightmare, ‘s all.” your voice wavered a tiny bit, but it was enough for him to notice.

Silence permeated the room once more as he thought about the situation. You clearly seemed shaken by whatever was plaguing your mind when sleeping, yet he didn’t really know how to help. He wasn’t the best with words, Hunter and even Wrecker were way better than him when it came to comforting people.

But then he paused. Thinking about Hunter reminded him of something his older brother would do whenever one of them had nightmares as cadets.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

As a kid Crosshair never took Hunter up on his offer to listen, but he would still sit with him in silence and let him wind down after the dream. Wrecker on the other hand often rambled about what had scared him and Hunter always found a solution for him. Tech often kept to himself, never mentioning when he had nightmares of his own, but he knew Hunter had his back should he ever wish to talk.

You chuckled, though it was humorless and heavy.

“You know I have worked with other clones, right?” he nodded, remembering the medical base you used to work at before joining Clone Force 99 as their field medic “I had a lot of patients there. Most we were able to treat, but… we lost a lot of them as well.” 

He could only imagine the kind of toll that took on someone.

“And it’s like they weren’t even people!” you whispered, frustrated tears collecting in your eyes “There wasn’t any family we could contact to deliver the bad news, at best one of his batchmates or another brother from the same battalion. But in the end it was just… crossing numbers out of a spreadsheet.” 

You took a deep breath in order to collect your thoughts.

“I see them when I fall asleep sometimes.” you smiled, but it was a sad smile, one that Crosshair didn’t think suited you at all “The ones I could save.” 

Crosshair didn’t know what to say to that. How much death had you witnessed before you met the Bad Batch? Before you met him? You had your own demons haunting you, and it served to show him that them, the soldiers fighting this war, weren’t the only ones affected by it.

“Come here.” he extended a hand to you.

“What?” you looked at him, confused.

He repeated himself, and when you stood up and stopped in front of him he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto his lap, maneuvering you so your head was resting against his shoulder, your ear right above his heart.

“It’s not your fault.” he spoke into your hair “You cannot save everyone. All you can do is try.”

“What happens if I’m not able to save one of you?” he heard the terror in your voice and he couldn’t stand it.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Cross…”

“I won’t.” he affirmed firmly “I watch over you so you can watch over us. Always.”

He could feel the tension in your body vanishing, as a comforting silence enveloped the both of you. Slowly, as your breathing slowed down and you fell back asleep, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you close to him. And you slept soundly and peacefully through the night, with Crosshair keeping guard of your dreams. 

+1 

Another mission, another success. Clone Force 99 was ordered to infiltrate a Separatist base on Agamar and retrieve some sensitive information regarding the former Separatist rule over Onderon. The mission was easy (at least by the Bad Batch’s standards) and Wrecker was overjoyed over getting to blow a droid tank up. But it was time to head back to Kamino, resupply and wait for new orders.

Wrecker practically barged out of the ship as soon as the Havoc Marauder touched the hangar on Tipoca City, claiming to be starving even though he had eaten not even an hour before. Tech, Echo and you followed him to the mess hall, and Hunter headed to the commander’s office to submit the several missions’ reports he was due, promising to join the four of you later. Similarly, Crosshair mentioned stopping by the armory to grab some more reflective disks as he was running out, shooting a wink your way as you promised to save him a seat next to you on the squad’s usual table.

On the way back to their quarters following his visit to the armory Crosshair bumped into Hunter and after a few words both decided to stop by their quarters in order to leave their equipment before heading to the mess hall to meet the others. As they wandered the sterile halls of the kaminoan facility, however, an incoming transmission from Hunter’s comm made them stop short.

“Hunter, where are you?” Tech’s usually calm and collected voice came through sounding a bit… panicky. Strange, Crosshair’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at his brother; Tech didn’t panic.

“Crosshair and I are on our way to our quarters, why?”

“You might want to make a detour to the medbay.” Echo’s voice came in as well. “A fight broke out in the mess hall.”

Hunter pinched his nose as Crosshair sighed in annoyance. Typical. They’ve been back on Kamino for less than a standard hour and they were already in trouble.

“What did Wrecker get up to this time?” Crosshair spoke into his brother’s comm.

Echo and Tech paused, the silence on their end stretching for a moment.

“It wasn’t Wrecker.” Tech answered.

“This time.” Echo chimed in.

A distant ‘Hey!’ was heard as Hunter and Crosshair exchanged a confused yet concerned glance before rushing through the halls. Tech and Echo were waiting for them before the closed doors that lead to the medbay.

“What happened?” Hunter asked, his tone laced with tiredness, clearly fed up with his brothers’ antics. 

But before either of them could respond a pair of troopers, regs by the looks of it, walked out the doors. And they couldn’t look worse for wear; one of them had a busted lip and the other was sporting a broken nose, two large bruises already starting to climb up towards his eyes.

“Oh, look, the rest of the anomalies are here.” the one with the cut lip snickered, grimacing as the action pulled against the wound.

“How about you control your little shabuir next time, eh?” the other scoffed as they walked away “Crazy shebs medic and the genetic freaks, it’s like they were made for each other.”

As soon as the word ‘medic’ crossed the reg’s lips Crosshair was moving, busting through the doors of the medbay. What he saw made his heart clench with worry; you were sitting on a cot, holding Wrecker’s hand rather tightly as a medical droid worked on your face. Crosshair could see some caked blood on your hair as the droid cleaned the side of your forehead where it had dripped down. As the droid went over where the cut must have been you winced, to which Wrecker rubbed up and down your back.

“There, baar’ur’ika. It’s all better now.” Wrecker whispered, or at least tried to.

“Thanks, Wreck.” you smiled up at him “I’m just not used to being on the receiving end of medical care, that’s all. I’m always the one cleaning up your cuts, not the other way around.”

Crosshair was so engrossed in watching the exchange he barely heard his brothers follow him into the medbay.

“Some regs started provoking us as we were walking to our table in the mess hall.” Tech explained “She started getting agitated but we told her to just ignore it. But then… a pair of regs said something under their breaths only she could hear, and she…”

“She went ballistic.” Echo completed for Tech, who looked unsettled for once “It looked like she was out for their heads. So much so that Wrecker had to step in.”

Crosshair heard Hunter sigh behind him.

“Command is not gonna be happy with him for getting into a fight. Again.”

“Oh no,” Tech corrected “Wrecker intervened in order to pry her away from the regs. The two troopers who just walked out? That was all her doing.”

A strange sense of pride bloomed inside Crosshair’s chest and started crawling up his throat, his lips threatening to curl into a small smile. Not only were you always looking out for them on the battlefield, but also outside of it? The trust he had been building over time seemed to solidify at that very moment.

As the droid finished wrapping your injury and walked away, Wrecker finally seemed to notice them. 

“Look! Crosshair and Hunter are here!”

As your eyes finally found his, you seemed to light up entirely, akin to a little kid on Life Day.

“Come on, Wrecker, let’s get you some food.” Hunter called, a barely contained sigh escaping from his lips “From what I hear you didn’t get a chance to eat yet. And I have to go back to Command and report this incident.”

Your smile turned sheepish and Crosshair couldn’t tell if you were embarrassed over the slight reprimanding tone in the sergeant’s voice or because your shenanigans had caused everyone to miss dinner so far.

As the other’s left, he sat down on the foot of your cot next to your legs, his long fingers wrapping around your ankle.

“So” he drawled out, a small smirk pulling at his lips “I hear you got yourself in trouble?”

You chuckled, to which he squeezed your ankle playfully in return.

��Yeah, I guess your affinity for trouble is rubbing off on me.”

“I mean, you were assigned to us after all, you obviously aren’t the little angel Commander Cody made you out to be.” he joked, before letting his curiosity get the better of him “What did they say anyway to make you snap like that?”

He noticed the very moment your face fell, your smile slipping off your face and your eyes turning slightly dull.

“Oh, Cross.” there was something so sad in the way you said his name that he never wanted to hear again, even if it meant he never got to hear his name fall from your lips for the rest of his life “They were so vile. First they started talking about Tech, Wrecker and Echo and they just told me to ignore it, but then…” a very soft, almost unnoticeable sheen of tears brimmed in your eyes “They started talking about you, Cross.”

The grip he had on your leg grew even tighter as he physically recoiled, taken aback.

“They started saying these awful things about you and you weren’t even there.” you stammered “They were being cruel and mean to you behind your back and I couldn’t let that slide. I just remembered what you once told me, about how the regs treated you as cadets and I just… saw red. I didn’t even think, I just acted.”

Crosshair felt his heart skip a beat. You, their sweet medic, got into a physical altercation… because of him? Because you felt the need to protect not only him, but his vode as well? You, who baked cookies and was nice to him even when he pushed you away and insulted you, broke a soldier’s nose… for him?

“I-I’m sorry.” you sighed “I know I shouldn’t have, but-”

“Would you do it again?”

Now was your turn to be taken aback.

“What?”

“If a bunch of regs ever insulted me or my brothers again,” he said slowly, the words feeling heavy on his tongue “would you defend us again, even if it meant getting hurt?”

Your lips curled up in a gentle smile, one he came to realize was reserved for him and him alone.

“I’d do anything for you, Crosshair.”

In a moment he was by your side, not even realizing he was moving. He sat on the bed by your side as you scooted over, making space for him, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His lips pressed softly on the hair on the crown of your head as he spoke.

“I won’t let you get hurt, Copikla.” he whispered, the most vulnerable he had ever been “Not on my watch, you’re never getting hurt again.”

He sighed contently as you relaxed by his side, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I promise.”

[warningsine]

If any of the followers wants to help, it'd be appreciated.

So. What's an adult TV series that has

complex/compelling female leads (don't have to be queer, but it's a bonus if there are some) or an ensemble cast with a lot of women,

an engaging story,

has a somewhat active/enthusiastic fandom on here (doesn't have to be HOTD or "Yellowjackets" levels of enthusiastic).

I dropped "Good Girls" again after finishing the first two episodes of season 4, because as much as I love the ladies, the arcs are repetitive af at this point.

I wanted to watch "The Good Fight" and "Black Sails," but I'm afraid they'll have to wait. "The L Word" and "Orphan Black" too.

Some of the series I enjoyed at some point:

"The Handmaid's Tale," OITNB, "I May Destroy You," "Unbelievable," "Veep," "Dead Ringers," "The Good Wife," "My Brilliant Friend," "The Returned," "Bad Sisters," "Chewing Gum," "Black Earth Rising," "Mrs. America," "GLOW," "Kevin Can Fuck Himself," "Big Little Lies," "Night Country," "Top of the Lake," "Godless," "Frontera Verde," "Ethos," "One Night," "The Power," "Girls5eva," "UnREAL," "Damages," "Insecure," "Unorthodox," "P-Valley," "Russian Doll," "Hacks," "Grace and Frankie," "Shining Girls," "Killing Eve," "Fleabag," "Why Women Kill," "Poker Face," "The Queen's Gambit," "Borgen," "Mare of Easttown," "Irma Vep," "Alias Grace," "Miss Sherlock," "Last Tango in Halifax," "The Fall," "The Bletchey Circle," "Servant," "We Are Lady Parts," "Made for Love," "Claws," "The Girlfriend Experience," "Dear White People," "Little Fires Everywhere," "Sharp Objects," "Lovecraft Country," “The Underground Railroad," "Under the Bridge," "Derry Girls" (<-a teen series, but I made an exception because everyone here told me it was worth it), “Station Eleven," "The Great," "Beef," "She's Gotta Have It," "Twenties," "Olive Kitteridge," "Enlightened," "Babylon Berlin," "Deadloch," "Vida," "Feel Good," "Gentleman Jack," "La Casa de las Flores" (<-never let it be said I don't enjoy millennial telenovelas).

Female fronted series I haven't finished:

HTGAWM, "Wentworth" (<-couldn't get into it).

Series I was/am kinda meh about:

"The Wilds" (<-"Yellowjackets" all the way), "Dead to Me," "Roar," "The Fosters," "Lost Girl," "Westworld" (<-post season 1), "The Haunting of Bly Manor" (not big on Flanagan's works), “Bridgerton," "Ratched," "Dickinson."

Series I haven't tried yet:

"The Diplomat," "Harlots," "Gilded Age," "The Bold Type" (<-surprisingly, it doesn't seem like my thing), "Workin' Moms," "Girlfriends Guide to Divorce," "Happy Valley," "Halt and Catch Fire," "West Wing," "Broadchurch," "The Split," "A Small Light," "Scandal," "For All Mankind," "Mindhunter," "Sense8," "1899," "Utopia," "Transparent," "The Morning Show," "Rain Dogs," The Mindy Project," "Vigil," "High Fidelity," "Only Murders in the Building," "Julia," "Pen15," "Weeds," "Girls."

[wickedhawtwexler]

HALT AND CATCH FIRE: 1984 (Season 1 Episode 10)

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Six Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6407 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

Spencer stared at the blank screen, mortification petrifying him in place. He was unable to tear his eyes away from where'd he'd last seen your face just before Walter Khan's boot crushed their feed.

Him, Hotch and Kate had arrived back at the station by the time you'd been placed in the car. The further you were driven, the more glitchy the feed became. Some words didn't come through, images flickered every now and again. The camera wasn't able to catch all of what went down during the meeting, but you'd made sure to get a good look at the big seller, knowing your team would use his image to find out who he was and find out where he would be hiding out.

Spencer had to hold back vomit whenever Khan went close to you, no doubt putting his disgusting, murderous hands all over you. Even more so when you'd been taken to the Warehouse and saw the girls, saw the torture display in the middle of the room. How many girls had dangled in the middle of that room and suffered his torture? How young had they been?

When you began walking to the meeting room, Spencer had thought you'd made it out of there. That you were finally coming home.

But you had turned around, ran back for those innocent girls. You had been caught, your pained cries whenever Walter punched you still ringing in Spencer's ears.

The worst part, though, was Khan had known the whole time.

'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

That's when the line went dead, squashed under Khan's boot. But not before he caught a glimpse of your face. Blood gushing from your nose down your chin, hand clutching at your ribs where you'd been punched. However, a fire of defiance burned bright in your E/C eyes, visible even from the low angle.

But that did nothing to quell the rising wave of anger and fear in Spencer, raging like a tsunami higher and higher with each passing second the screen remained dead.

Where you had disappeared from in the blink of an eye; and there was nothing Spencer could do about it.

'Get it back up,' Spencer found himself demanding. To who, he really didn't know. When no one answered, the wave rose higher. 'Get it back up!'

'I-I'm trying!" Penelope cried over the speaker phone. 'Wherever they took her, they did well to make sure no cell towers were near it. Or they have really good cell blocks that pretty much render them invisible. That's what made the feed so glitchy, they're like in the middle of nowhere.'

'What about the camera? Can you track it?'

'Yes, but again, the cell blocks blocked that signal too. I can't tell you where they went outside of lower Manhattan.'

The urge to scream was almost unbearable. Instead, Spencer drove his fingers through his unruly hair, pulling at longer strands harshly to get his mind to focus on something else momentarily. This couldn't be happening. You were safe, you were home free. Damnit, why did you have to go back?

'Alert train stations south bound that drivers and passengers should keep their eyes out for those girls along any tracks,' Hotch commanded to Holt. 'Send as many officers out along those tracks from the nearest stations. Those girls are the key to finding L/N, but they're being hunted so we need to find them first.'

'Of course,' Holt managed to get out, his face pale with terror. Good, Spencer thought. Holt at least had half a mind to look guilty, considering he was the one that put you there.

'I'll go with you, we'll need as many people on the ground as we can,' Derek offered, to which Hotch nodded his approval and Derek jogged after Holt as he ran back into the office.

Spencer's feet moved before his mouth did, halfway to the door before he said, 'I'm going, too.'

'No,' Hotch said. 'I need you to stay here and work with Garcia on a geographical profile on Walter Khan. Find out everything about him, more importantly whether he has any major properties south of Manhattan he could be operating out of.'

Spencer opened his mouth to argue. How could Hotch expect him to sit idly by a map while you were with the unsub being beaten or worse...

A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to look down at a concerned-looking JJ. 'Don't worry, Spence,' she said softly. 'Kate and I will go help as well. You and Pen are the only ones who can figure this out, so the sooner you do that, the quicker we can bring Y/N home, okay?'

Usually, the logical answer presented itself in Spencer's mind first. What JJ said was the most logical explanation, he knew. Even so, his heart yearned to find Walter Khan and wring his neck for all he was worth. It was an overwhelming urge, similar to the one he had when on his dilaudid addiction many years ago.

The memories of what that addiction did to him - how it almost destroyed his life - was what brought him back to his logical conclusion.

He nodded at JJ and stepped aside so her and Kate could follow Derek. Kate gave him a sympathetic smile and a gentle squeeze of his upper arm, then her and JJ were gone. That left himself, Rossi, Penelope on the phone, and Hotch.

'Dave,' Hotch said, 'You and I are going down to the Chateau and questioning Madame Lacroix. She's got to be back there by now. And she's going to tell us everything she knows about the operation this time.'

'Whether she likes it or not,' Rossi added, nodding at Hotch in agreement as he made to pick up his coat from the chair he'd previously been sitting on.

'Waitwaitwaitwait!' The high pitch urgency of Penelope's voice halted Hotch and Rossi's movements as her face appeared on the huge screen, scrunched with worry.

'What is it, Garcia?' Hotch asked.

'I've been trying to track Y/N's camera location since she got to wherever they're holding her,' she explained, her voice a little high-pitched in desperation. She continued typing furiously on her keyboard as she did.

'You found her?' Spencer asked, his voice desperate, hopeful.

'I wish I could say yes, boy wonder,' she apologised. 'However, while tracking, an unknown window popped up. Check this out...'

Another few clicks on her end and a window - the one she found - popped up beside Penelope's face. The image in that window, however, had Spencer's stomach plummeting through the ground.

You hung with your hands above your head by a chain in the middle of a room, your now bare feet just scraping along the hay that lay all around the floor. You were back in the Warehouse, in the place where you'd shown Spencer and the team where the girls were held and-

'Oh my God,' Penelope breathed out, voice trembling with horror at your beaten state. The camera appeared to be setup on a tripod, keeping your entire body in frame. They'd all seen you fight, but only now could they see the damage you'd taken.

Blood dripped from your nose, down your chin and had already stained the front of your dress a deeper scarlet. Your breaths were laboured, as if you were concentrating on keeping yourself from passing out. You were too far away to make out any other injuries, but Spencer had no doubt the bruises hadn't come out just yet.

'Garcia,' Hotch began, but even in her shocked state, Penelope answered.

'Already on it, sir,' she said, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks to type into her keyboard. 'Triangulating where the feed is coming from.'

It was like the world was slowing down for Spencer the longer he looked at you hanging there. The team had always joked that his IQ always slashed in half whenever he was around you. But that was usually because he couldn't find the words to talk to you properly, how to articulate in the right words just exactly how you made him feel.

In a way, the same thing was happening to him right now, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think because of terror. Because of Walter Khan, who finally strolled into frame, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His rings glinted under the fluorescent lights as he waved at the camera, a smug grin on his face.

'Hi there, FBI,' he said in a sing-song voice. He looked over his shoulder, shuffled so the camera could see you again. 'Say hi to your friends, Y/N. I'm sure they're just... so happy to see you.'

You didn't respond, keeping your gaze just south of the camera, barely blinking. 'She's disassociating,' Rossi stated, recognising like Spencer, that far away look in your eyes. 'She's preparing for torture.'

Spencer gulped as Khan walked over to you slowly, prowling around you like a predator admiring his catch for the night. He remained silent as he did, and Spencer wondered for a moment if that was all he was going to do.

With the speed of a striking snake, however, he gripped your chin with one hand, the chain holding you rattling as you tried and failed to pull away. Grunts of effort escaped you as he forced you to look at the camera.

'Now, now, Y/N,' he cooed, brushing your loose hair away from your face with his free hand. 'There's no need to be shy. Say something.'

Before you could even react, he slammed his fist into your stomach, ripping a pained groan from you. But not a scream. You bit your lip hard. You probably didn't want to give Khan the satisfaction of hearing your pain. A small, hopeful part inside Spencer warmed with pride at your resilience.

Khan let go of your face and took a step back, eyes raking you up and down with a sick, sadistic admiration. 'So you think you're tough, huh?' he challenged, walking to stand behind you and place both hands on your right shoulder. 'Come on, don't hold back those beautiful sounds, baby.'

In one sharp motion, he pressed either side of your shoulder in opposite directions, causing a loud pop to echo through the room. A sharp squeak escaped your lips, but you bit down on your lip again, allowing nothing else out. The light glinted off the tears that brimmed your E/C eyes, but they did not fall. You would not let them, Spencer realised.

Khan's lips split into a sadistic grin, one that clearly revelled in the pain he brought to you. Fire stirred in the pit of Spencer's stomach, which then spread through his limbs, to the tips of his fingers, toes and head.

Never in his life had he had the greater urge to physically harm someone than Walter Khan in that moment.

'So beautiful,' Khan continued, his gentle strokes across your bloodied chin a stark contrast to his previous harsh movement. 'I knew you'd be my favourite the moment you walked through the door. You're not like other girls...'

Bile rose in Spencer's throat when Khan leaned in close to you and tried to kiss you on the lips. You still had enough strength in you to turn away so he brushed your cheek instead. When Khan tried to tilt your head to kiss you properly, you lashed out with your teeth, catching his upper lip and yanking on it. Hard.

Khan pulled back at the sudden attack with an agonised cry, clasping both hands on his lip. Blood seeped through his hands, and when he pulled away, Spencer saw that Khan's teeth and chin were covered in blood.

'Bitch,' he swore, slamming a fist a little higher than your stomach this time, no doubt breaking some ribs. You sucked in air loudly, your gasp masking the cry that Spencer could tell wanted to come out. God, she must be in so much pain. It sickened Spencer knowing what was happening to you and not being able to do anything about it.

'Garcia, anything?' Hotch asked, his usually steady voice cracking with worry as he continued to look at the screen.

'I'm trying, sir. I'm trying!' she cried.

As if sensing their urgency, Khan looked back to the camera and walked back over until only he was in the frame. Drops of blood stained his white shirt, but he didn't seem to notice as he grinned maniacally into the camera. Although Spencer knew he couldn't see them, he felt like Khan was looking directly at him, taunting him, challenging him.

'By the time you find her,' he began, 'she'll be dead. And I'll be long gone. Until next time, FBI.'

Walter Khan's smile was the last thing Spencer saw before the screen went black and the window closed and now it was only him, Penelope, Hotch and Rossi again.

'I-I'm sorry, sir,' Penelope managed out, her voice barely higher than a whisper. 'I-I-I couldn't f-find her. The signal was being rerouted all across the world.'

'We've got to move fast,' Hotch said, and him and Rossi were gone.

Spencer didn't say a word to begin with, unable to get the image of you hanging in that torture chamber out of his head.

By the time you find her, she'll be dead.

He never thought anyone of his team mates would go out being killed in action. Plenty have come and gone from the team, but not been killed. In some naive way, he figured you all were invincible - that nothing would tear you apart.

But after discovering Gideon dead only a few weeks ago, that fantasy of the team staying together forever was cracked. With your life now on the line, too, the cracks were starting to get bigger, with some pieces falling away entirely.

'Spencer,' Penelope's gentle voice brought him out of his own bubble of despair. 'I'm so sorry.'

The overwhelming urge to scream welled up in him - he didn't quite know for who or for what he wanted to scream at, just that it sounded like a better action to take than punching someone. But he didn't scream.

Instead, he gathered himself and turned to look at Penelope, face steeled by sheer will because he had to keep it together if he wanted to bring you home. 'It's Khan who should be sorry,' he replied, voice steady with threat. 'Let's get to work.'

~~~

Pain. It's all you felt. Even three hours later after Khan's beating, you still felt the ghost of his fist pounding into your stomach, into your ribcage. A sharp, piercing pain ricocheted through them whenever you inhaled too quickly. Definitely two or three broken, you concluded.

You laid on the hay on the floor. Khan had lowered your chain which alleviated some pain and pressure from your dislocated shoulder and bruising wrists. But he hadn't done it to help you. 'Don't want you breaking too soon, Y/N,' he had whispered to you when he'd laid you gently to rest. And from his accompanying smile, you knew it was just all a game to him.

He'd been gone for three hours - counting the time helped you forget the pain and terror wracking your body. Despite that, you hadn't allowed yourself to sleep. Daylight seeped through the top windows, bathing you in a warm glow that made you shiver with momentary bliss. You didn't realise how cold you were until the rays hit you.

The metallic taste of blood still haunted your lips even now that your nose had stopped running with it. It still throbbed though, but it was a dull ache in comparison to your shoulder. You could only imagine how rough you looked, and not in a good way.

The thought made you smile, if only for a moment.

The soft patter of footsteps made you sit upright despite your pain, made you pull your hands close to your chest and look at the door as it opened. You kept your face neutral as you watched Walter Khan walk in alone. He wore a new suit today: navy blue with a lilac undershirt and a navy tie with lighter blue and purple flowers embroidered onto it randomly. God, he was pretentious in every manner of the word.

He didn't walk to you straight away as you expected. Instead, he walked over to the table of torture devices to a remote hanging from the ceiling just above it. He pressed the upper button and suddenly you were jerked upwards as the chain retracted higher. You couldn't contain the yelp of pain that escaped you as your arms were pulled harshly over your head once more, placing intense pressure on your throbbing shoulder once more. He let go of the button just before your feet left the ground entirely.

Satisfied, he grabbed a clean towel and a bucket that sat underneath the table. He picked them both up and walked over to you, placed them both on the ground as he continued to look you over. He did that for a minute in silence before you couldn't take it anymore.

'What?' you asked in mock confusion. 'Have I got something on my face?'

You hated how that brought a smile to his ugly face. 'You really should lay off on the moxie, sweetheart,' he said, crouching to wet the towel in the bucket before standing back up to continue talking. 'I really do like that in a girl.'

'Girl, huh? That your preferred age?'

He shrugged, bringing the towel up to your face. Before you could lean away, he used his free hand to grip your chin, keeping you with a firm hold in place as he dabbed the wet towel across your chin, around your nose, and across your lips.

He was cleaning you up.

You were more confused than disgusted. Perhaps a little relieved to be rid of the taste of blood finally, but you would never admit that. If his goal was to kill you, why bother cleaning you up?

His dabs at your face were uncharacteristically soft. 'You've done this before,' you said, only now realising how hoarse your throat was from dehydration and the cold air.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from his task. 'I prefer my girls to be... cleaner than other ones.' He meant other prostitutes, other establishments, you realised. It was a compulsion, even knowing you weren't one of his "girls".

'Would you have to clean Roxy and the others up, too?' you asked despite knowing the answer. 'You get off on seeing others bleed, don't you Khan. It wasn't enough that you would use them, strip them of their dignity, as if they were just toys.'

One second you were breathing air, the next you were choking underneath the crushing pressure that was Khan's grip. His hold was so strong it had you seeing stars in seconds.

'I would stop talking if I were you, bitch,' he hissed, venom dripping from every word. His calm demeanour remained intact, but even with your blurred vision you saw an animalistic rage burning in his eyes.

A caged animal just waiting to be unleashed.

'You don't know anything about me,' he continued. 'And you don't know the half of what I am capable of.'

His grip on you eased a little but not completely. However, it was enough for you to find your voice again. 'I know,' you started, voice slightly wheezy from the lack of air, 'you must have suffered under the hands of someone, probably a woman in the prostitution business, when you were younger. Otherwise... why would you hate women so much?'

He gave you a strange look, one that was sceptical, angry, and intrigued at the same time. Good, if he was off guard, he might slip up and give you something of value.

'Was it your mother?' you asked. 'A sister, aunt?' When he didn't answer you continued. 'Whoever it was must be the reason why you feel as if you've been let down your entire life. That's why you built this empire, isn't it? But even now, successful and thriving off others' pain... that person made you feel you are not enough, and so nothing ever will be. But that person is gone, and you can't show them how successful you've been. That's why you hurt others, right? Because, not only can't you hurt her, you refuse to hurt the one person you hate the most... yourself.'

He stepped back from you completely, and, for the first time, his calm facade breaks to show slivers of horror and shock at your observation. Looks like I hit the nail on the head.

He looked at you for a moment longer, that haunted expression on his face making him look more sick as he shadows of birds flew over his face. You became concerned when he suddenly ran out of the room, leaving you hanging with a clean face and more questions than answers.

You had gotten under his skin; he'd shown you a weak point in his life that you could use against him. He'd looked rattled, which made you more scared than when he was calm. Walter Khan didn't strike you as the kind of man that didn't always make sure he had the upper hand in every situation he walked into. But when he didn't, when he was backed into a corner...

Caged animal waiting to be unleashed.

'What have I done?' you asked into the empty room, but you were still surprised when no one answered back.

~~~

When his vision began splitting in two, Spencer rubbed at his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the map the police station had provided for over five hours now. Him and Penelope had found nothing - no properties in his name, no previous history in the areas, nothing.

But Spencer had kept looking though, refusing to believe that Walter Khan's trail went cold here. Not when he was doing who knew what to you. It was the only thought that kept him motivated, kept his tired eyes from closing entirely on him despite their great protest.

The rising sun wasn't helping with his vision either. After being awake all night, the introduction to natural light and blue skies was a shock to the system he was still adjusting to.

'Any updates from Morgan, JJ or Kate?' he asked, his voice rumbling with exhaustion.

Penelope had remained on the video feed since the others had left, refusing to leave Spencer alone. Maybe she thought he would do something reckless without supervision. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame her for thinking that, not when the murderous urge to strangle Khan with all Spencer's might tingled the tips of his fingers.

Or maybe that was the twelve cups of coffee he'd had in the past five hours finally kicking in.

'Not yet, sorry.' Penelope said wistfully, blinking several times as she continued looking at a screen off to the side of the camera. Even in her tired state, she refused to rub at her face like Spencer in order to preserve her glorious makeup. Spencer had to admit it was impressive. She had a lot more self control than she gave herself credit for.

Just the thought alone had him rubbing his eyes again. 'Are you sure there isn't anything we've missed? What about Q25, Garcia? What's there?'

'Nothing but trees once more, boy wonder.' She heaved a sad, frustrated sigh. 'We've been looking at the same area for hours now and still nothing! What am I doing wrong?'

'It's not you, Garcia,' Spencer offered politely. Truthfully, he simultaneously felt no one was doing enough to find you, and yet they were exhausting everything they could to do so. But he was the one who promised to bring you home, who said it would all be over soon.

It was his fault you were still not found. There was something he wasn't seeing, and every second his supposedly big brain spent trying to figure it out was another second you could be being tortured.

He didn't let the thought that maybe you were already dead linger too long. Not when Hotch and Rossi stormed into the room, exhaustion and anger lining their weary faces. Spencer glanced behind them to see Madame Lacroix and two other men - one older with grey hair, the other much younger - being escorted into holding cells down the corridor.

'Madame Lacroix was a dead end,' Hotch explained before anyone could ask. 'But we managed to expose them for their involvement in Khan's business, and also the other illegal trades they've all been dealing with on the side. L/N's reports and photographs should be enough evidence to charge them on at least that.'

'But we can't bust them just yet on Khan,' Rossi added, his tone defeated. 'Any luck on the geo-profile?'

Spencer shook his head regrettably. 'There are no properties or anything that may indicate he has ties in the direction we think he's operating out of.'

'It's either just woodland or innocent estate living,' Penelope added. 'All names check out, they're not aliases.'

'Morgan, JJ, and Kate better find those girls soon then,' Rossi said. 'They seem to be our only guide to where Khan is hiding out.'

'The thing that is odd to me though,' Hotch started, 'is why he is hanging around. Why not kill L/N knowing she's an agent? Why not skip town or relocate as soon as possible?'

'Because it's a compulsion now,' Spencer found himself saying. He wasn't sure if it was from lack of sleep that he sounded delusional, but he kept talking. He needed to talk, anything to keep his mind off the alternatives. 'Y/N engrained herself so much into his operation that he may have deluded himself into thinking he can make her one of his girls for real.'

'So he'll keep her and use her just like the others,' Rossi said grimly. 'And when she eventually lets him down - as they all have - he'll kill her.'

'We'll find her before it gets to that point,' Hotch said so assuredly that Spencer almost believed it. But the odds were against them, and time was running out.

As if the universe was listening in, Penelope's gasp sent tremors of terror through Spencer as they all turned to her on the screen. 'Guys! The feed is back online!'

'Pull it up and start tracking it,' Hotch ordered, and Penelope didn't need telling twice as she did just that.

You were hanging again, but the blood that covered the lower half of your face was now gone. Your dress was ruffled and dirty in some places, and straws of hay were tangled in your messy hair. He must've lowered you for the remainder of the night, but from the dark circles under your weary eyes, Spencer guessed you hadn't slept.

'He cleaned her up,' Rossi noticed too.

'That's a good thing right?' Penelope said, pausing her tracking for a second.

'No,' Spencer replied. 'It means he's got more in store for her.'

'You were right, Reid. It's a compulsion,' Rossi added.

'Keep tracking, Garcia,' Hotch said.

And there he was.

Walter Khan entered the frame, but instead of taunting them through the camera like last time, he walked straight over to you as if the camera wasn't even on. He grasped your chin, causing you to jerk backwards with a gasp.

'How did you know that?' he asked, voice tight and restrained. When you didn't answer, he pulled you closer with a harsh tug that caused the chains to rattle. 'How did you know?!'

'Lucky... Lucky guess, I suppose,' you replied, eyes flicking from Khan to the camera and back. Something had happened between the last feed and now, Spencer concluded. Some interaction that has brought out the frantic Khan.

'No!' He slapped you, sending you spinning around on the chain. When you swung back towards the camera, the sun highlighted the blood on your lip, how it trembled as you did. 'You knew about my life! No one does! So how would an undercover agent of all people know?'

'Maybe you're just... not as slick as you think you are,' you said in between haggard breaths. Spencer could only imagine how much pain you were in. He was both extremely proud of and extremely terrified for you.

Khan let out a growl that rattled the conference room it was that loud. He lashed out with a hard punch to your gut, then a slanted punch on your knee, receiving a loud crunch and crack in return.

For the first time since being caught, you screamed. It was the most horrible sound Spencer had ever heard in his life - even worse than the gunshot that killed Maeve. It echoed through the Warehouse, a guttural, pained sound that would haunt not only Spencer's dreams but Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope's too.

You gathered yourself quickly and bit down on your lip, silencing your cries. Sunlight showed the tears that gathered at your eyes, still refusing to fall. But Spencer could tell it was taking all you had to keep it together. You knew they were watching. You probably were holding it together for them.

The pride and terror he felt for you was overwhelming to a point his knees almost buckled. But if you could keep it together while being tortured, he could do it too.

Once you'd calmed your breathing, you looked back at Khan, hate in your beautiful E/C eyes. 'Beating me... will get you nowhere... I refuse... to break to you.'

Everyone held their breaths as you held your stare with Khan, and Spencer realised it then.

It hit him in consistent waves that made it hard to catch his breath or even fully realise what was happening. It was how you stared down the crook man, unrelenting, unwavering, unbreakable. It was how, even at you most vulnerable, you made sure to put on a brave face for the team, for him. He hadn't dared think it before - not after Maeve. But the heavy thuds of his heart couldn't be mistaken.

Khan contemplated you for a moment, and then pulled out a pocket knife from his pants. He was calm again which Spencer didn't like one bit. 'Very well, then. You want to act tough?' He didn't wait for a reply as he sliced the top button of your dress off expertly. Then another and another, until almost the entirety of your bra showed. 'Let's see how tough you really are.'

Your eyes blew wide in terror finally realising what his intentions were. Spencer realised a second after, and his blood boiled painfully.

'Garcia,' Spencer managed out, unable to take his eyes off you as Khan sliced off another button and another. By the time he got to the last one, exposing your underwear too, Spencer was on the verge of a panic attack. 'Garcia!'

'I'm honing in on it now!' she called back, but it wasn't enough to quell his fear.

Khan slipped off the dress with a few more slices of the knife, then proceeded to pocket it and press himself against your back. You tried pulling away, but Khan's arms were around you already, feeling you everywhere, violating you.

That's when the tears finally fell. A broken sob escaped your bloodied, trembling lips as Khan's hands dragged all over you, brushing away the hair on your neck to press a sickeningly gentle kiss there.

But instead of completely crumbling, you looked directly into the camera and said, 'I would've said yes.'

For a moment it was just him and you. You words were so soft he almost didn't believe you said them. Spencer saw out of the corner of his eyes Hotch and Rossi didn't understand, but this wasn't about them. You were speaking directly to Spencer, probably with full faith that he was watching and that he was on his way to save you already.

Khan paused his ministrations at the odd statement, giving you a confused look. 'What?'

'I would've said yes,' you repeated, but this time there was a resignation to your words. As if you accepted that those would be the last words anyone would hear you speak. Spencer quickly realised that, as much as you believed he was coming, you didn't believe you would be alive when he finally did.

Khan followed your gaze to the camera, his expression changing as he realised you weren't talking to him.

'I would've said yes,' you said again, not once looking away from the camera.

Khan's hands retracted from you.

'I would've said yes.'

He walked over to the camera.

'I would've said yes.'

'You disappeared behind his huge frame.

'I would've said yes.'

He reached out to switch it off.

'I would've said-'

The feed went dark. The room fell silent, but only for a second. As Spencer stormed out of the room, slamming the door open as he did. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had to get out of that room.

I would've said yes.

The way you'd said it was like you were trying to make sure he heard you - that, as your last words to him, you wanted to let him know of what could've been.

He stormed into the break room where thankfully nobody resided in. He slammed his fist on one of the tables, and kicked at the chair residing at it. Anger coursed through every fibre in him, at Khan, at Holt, at himself.

I would've said yes.

'Reid.'

Spencer turned to find Rossi standing in the doorway, concern wrinkling his weathered features more. 'You okay?' he asked, slowly walking into the room fully then closing the door behind him. 'What was that about?'

'She would've said yes,' was all Spencer could manage out in his wild state of mind, finding it hard to breathe he was so wound up. 'She would've...'

'I heard that,' Rossi said gently. 'I don't know what that means. But you clearly do. So spill, boy genius. What did she mean by that?'

Spencer tugged at his hair in frustration. 'Before she left I asked her out,' he explained, voice rising as his worry did. 'She was never able to give me an answer because she was sworn to secrecy, and I thought that all this time she never liked me liked that because we've been friends for so long, but she would've said yes. You heard her! She would've said yes! And now she-'

'Okay, okay, okay,' Rossi interrupted, gently grabbing Spencer by his arms and guiding him to the chair he'd kicked just before. Spencer didn't have the strength to fight the older man, allowing himself to be guided into a seat.

Rossi crouched in front of Spencer, holding Spencer's shaking hands in his steady ones. 'Just breathe, Reid. Just breathe.'

Spencer followed Rossi' instructions as best as he could, but panic and despair had already crept in. 'Do you know,' he started, lips trembling, voice quaking with emotions he couldn't quite understand, 'that friendships that last longer than seven years... that they are meant to last for life? Y/N and I... we've been friends for a decade.'

'I know,' Rossi answered gently. 'You, JJ, Penelope and Y/N are quite close.'

'Yes, but,' Spencer continued through the sniffles, 'Y/N's always been there. Not just for me, but with me. I never realised how integral to my life she was until she left. I never realised that my love for her was something more until it was too late.'

'You love her?'

Only when Rossi pointed it out did Spencer realise what he'd admitted. But it wasn't a casual slip of the tongue - it was intentional, it was true, it was the only thing he wanted to say because he hated how long it took him to realise it for himself.

He nodded slowly, tears running down his cheeks. 'I didn't know it at first, but it didn't just happen overnight. Truth is... I think I've loved her from the day I met her. Platonically at first, but it's grown as we have, and she is so precious to me Rossi. I can't lose her. I can't.'

Sobs wracked his boney body as he broke down. Rossi pulled him into an awkward but comforting hug, and Spencer couldn't express how grateful he was for such comfort. Rossi had grown into the father figure he'd made Gideon out to be; and while Spencer had learnt to stand on his own two feet, it was reassuring knowing he had someone older and wiser to rely upon.

'It's like Maeve all over again,' Spencer found himself saying, still clinging onto Rossi like his life depended on it. 'Just when I glimpse happiness, it's snatched away. And there is nothing I can do about it.'

'No, no,' Rossi said, pulling back to look Spencer directly in his amber eyes. 'You listen to me, boy wonder. We are going to find her, and we're going to bring her home. And you are going to tell her how you feel and finally take her on a date. Is that understood?' When Spencer didn't answer, Rossi continued.

'Remember how when Maeve died, you holed yourself up in your apartment for weeks, and didn't talk to anyone?' Spencer nodded, but only because he didn't quite understand why Rossi was bringing it up. 'And remember how we all came by to visit, but mostly Y/N? That was because she believed you were strong enough to get through it. She never doubted you, never gave up on you, Spence. Are you really going to return the favour by giving up on her?'

Spencer stared at Rossi for a moment, perplexed that he even would suggest such a thing. He quickly wiped his tears away, though. 'No,' he answered, voice stern and hopeful.

'Good,' Rossi replied, standing back up. 'Now use that big brain of yours. There's got to be something that we missed.'

Before Spencer could answer, the door to the break room swung open to reveal a flustered Derek Morgan. 'We found them,' he said between heavy breaths. 'We found the girls.'

[scullysflannel]

Do I have to watch all of season 1 to be able to watch the rest of Halt and Catch Fire? Cause I just watched the pilot and did not really find any part of it compelling lol, was about to fall asleep a couple of times

Thank you for coming to me with this. I'm gonna be honest with you: You have to watch season 1 to get the full effect of the rest of it. You don't have to like it (I don't! Sorry to its defenders, but I find most of season 1 so painful, until the last couple episodes, when it starts to get it together). But I think you have to watch it, not really for the plot but for the emotional experience. I've never seen any other show capture the feeling of really deep, lived-in love like Halt and Catch Fire does by the end. It's the way it feels to know someone for so long that you have to love them, and you have to know the characters when they're young (the story starts in 1983 and ends in 1994) to really feel the change. And it's not like they made season 1 itself bad on purpose as some kind of three-dimensional chess game, but it adds to the journey in a funny way. You're going from not necessarily liking the characters to loving them, they're going from not necessarily liking each other to loving each other, you're going from not liking the show to loving it. It just hits so much harder if you've gritted your teeth through season 1. I wish it started stronger, but it's worth it! I dragged my feet through most of season 1, paused for two years, picked it up again with the season 1 finale, and then finished the whole rest of the show in one week. And now I'll go to bat for it as one of the best shows ever made.

[ashes-2-ashes57cba]

The Bad Batch: Specter

Episode 1: Aftermath

Here begins the first season of the Bad Batch with my OC Specter! Hope you stick around! Edited by @ryleeeeeenn *osi'kyr: strong exclamation of surprise or dismay *kark: strong expletive (Star Wars version of fuck, I guess) *adla’vod: roughly translates to “twin”, directly translates to “same brother/sister” *di'kut: idiot warnings: canonical Star Wars violence

The conflict had left the Republic’s forces on Kaller severely depleted. The troopers desperately attempted to hold their position, awaiting the arrival of promised reinforcements. Right now, it looked like they’d never arrive, and if they did, there might just be nothing to reinforce.

“Not to be a pessimist, but if the commander isn’t back soon with those reinforcements…” Captain Grey trailed off.

“My Padawan will be here,” Jedi General Depa Billaba insisted before Grey could finish his thought. She continued to dodge the barrage of blaster fire as she searched for her apprentice.

“Master! Here,” he shouted, appearing as if just on cue, sliding down the snowy hill. “I’m here!” 

“Caleb, where are the reinforcements?” The boy seemed too distracted to answer his Master, watching the battlefield in what could only be described as anticipation.  

“Don’t worry. They’re right behind me,” the boy insisted. The captain and general glanced at each other, confused, then back in the direction Caleb had come from. 

“Uh, where are they?” Captain Grey asked.

“Caleb,” Billaba pressed. 

“Trust me,” he affirmed.

“Well, how many are there?” said the clone.

“Six of them.”

“Six?” he repeated incredulously. “We’re done,” he shook his head. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but you gotta see these clones. They’re… different,” the boy said just as a rumbling from the overlooking mountain caught the attention of the droids. The army came to a halt. A giant boulder rolled out and smashed a large number of battle droids in its path. Tech, Echo, Specter, Hunter, and Wrecker charged out of the woods, blasting at the droids in their path. Crosshair sat high above, using his vantage point to snipe away. Wrecker practically barrelled through the droids while Hunter skillfully used his blaster and knife to destroy them. Tech wove through the platoon and planted EMPs, activating them once he was out of harm’s way; Echo used his blaster, and Crosshair provided Specter with cover fire while she took a knee and blasted droids with her shotgun. A few droids got close, so she simply used her blaster to swing and dismantle them before reconfiguring her weapon into its rifle form.

“Crosshair, let’s get these tanks moving,” Hunter ordered. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Crosshair hissed before shooting canisters containing grappling lines to connect the tanks. Once they were connected, Wrecker went to the farthest one and started pushing it off the cliff; Tech went up to the tank in the middle and called out to the command droid.

“Hey, clanker! Catch,” he said before tossing it an EMP. The droids inside the tank sparked out, losing control of the vehicle and falling over the cliff with the rest of the tanks. With the odds evened out, they were able to easily pick off the rest of the droids. 

“Hey, Cross, what’s your count?” Specter asked the sniper as he joined the group, heading towards the Jedi General and Commander.

“More than you, adla’vod,” he sneered, elbowing her side. She shoved him back before straightening up before the regs. Hunter sheathed his knife and took off his helmet

“If you’re done hiding down there, I suggest you launch a counterattack. Another droid battalion’s approaching,” he said.

“The General is the one who gives the orders around here,” the clone captain spoke up. Depa Billaba gestured with a gentle, calming hand.

“He’s right, Captain. This is our chance. Launch the counterattack,” she ordered.

“Yes, General,” he saluted. “All right, men. Let’s go!” Captain Grey and his men ran out of the trench and went to advance. 

“There you are, little Jedi,” Wrecker said with a smile, “you missed all the fun.” Caleb smiled and stepped forward.

“Watching your team in action was the fun.”

“Care to introduce your new friends, Caleb?” Billaba asked. 

“Yes, Master. This is Wrecker, Hunter, Specter, Echo, Tech, and Crosshair.” Billaba smiled and nodded at each of them.

“While I’m not sure ‘fun’ is the sentiment I would express, I agree with my Padawan. Your exploits were quite impressive.”

“Exploits?” Wrecker muttered, confused.

“Don’t overthink it, Wrecker,” Crosshair said, passing by and sticking a toothpick in between his teeth. 

“Thank you, General,” Echo said, circling back to the point. 

“Now, would one of you please explain where my actual reinforcements are?” the General said. 

“Rerouted to the capital. We’re all you’re getting,” Hunter reported. 

“Ha! We’re all you need,” Wrecker exclaimed, hoisting up his blaster. 

“Actually, if my intel is correct, the general will not need any of us. The Clone War may soon be over,” Tech chimed in. 

“You hear that, clankers?” Specter shouted over her shoulder to the distant droids, “the war is almost over!” Crosshair snickered.

“I am referring to the encrypted comm chatter,” Tech said, unamused. “Clone intelligence is reporting Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau.”

“If he captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure will collapse; and most likely the droid armies along with them,” Echo theorized.

“A fascinating theory, yet unfortunately not something we can control from here. I suggest we focus on the task at hand,” the Jedi Master continued. 

“Any orders? Or shall we do what we do?” Hunter asked with a smirk before replacing his helmet; the rest of the group followed suit.

“Let’s blow something up! Yeah!” Wrecker cheered. The General looked at the Commander.

“Well, Caleb, shall we let them do what they do?” she asked, coyly.

“Only if I can go with them.”

“Very well,” she nodded.

“You ready for this?” Hunter asked. 

“We move fast,” Specter chimed in. 

“Good. That’s the only way I know,” the kid said with a mischievous smile before dashing off past the Batch.

“I like him,” Wrecker said with a laugh, chasing after him. 

The group hardly noticed the sudden increase in blaster fire until Caleb slowed to a stop and turned to watch his master deflecting blasts from the same clones she’d commanded only moments ago. 

“Master!” he shouted, running back to his master with his lightsaber ignited. The Bad Batch stopped and turned at the commotion. The regs had surrounded General Billaba and opened fire on her, she did her best to redirect the shots while shouting for her Padawan to run. 

One lucky shot brought her down, the ones that followed only sealed her fate.

What the hell? Specter thought to herself as they retraced their steps to meet the Padawan as he ran away from the danger of the other clones. Hunter held up his pistol, signaling the group to halt. “Stay away from me!” Caleb shouted, holding up his saber in a defensive position against them. Specter watched in confusion as he ran off toward the woods, a bitter taste filled her mouth.

“Kid, wait!” Hunter shouted after him. Caleb had already disappeared when she caught up with the team. “What… what just happened?” 

“The comm channel is repeating one directive, ‘Execute Order 66’,” Tech reported.

“Yeah, I heard that too. What’s Order 66?” Wrecker asked. 

“I am not certain,” Tech admitted. Specter was surprised; her heart was racing for reasons she couldn’t explain, but something in the air had changed. Hunter began to give commands.

“Echo. Tech. Talk to the reg Captain. Find out what you can.” The two nodded and went off to find Captain Grey. “Crosshair, you and I will track down the kid and make sure nothing happens to him. Wrecker, Specter, stall anyone who tries to follow us.” Wrecker nodded but Specter went to grab Hunter’s wrist.

“Wait, Sergeant. I should come with you,” she said, “I can catch up with him if need be.”

“No, I need you to stay with Wrecker,” he denied her request. 

“We’ll be fine. Quit fussing,” Crosshair sneered, already marching off after the Jedi.

When he was out of earshot, Hunter leaned in and murmured “something is very wrong here, and I’d rather none of us be singled out.” Specter huffed but stepped back, allowing him to catch up with Crosshair. 

“You okay?” Wrecker carefully asked.

“Yeah, just a little uneasy,” she replied simply. Though she could have verily easily dumped all her inner thoughts and troubles out onto him, she refrained, knowing it would do little good for either of them.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he said, rolling his shoulders, though he didn’t sound so convinced.

Time seemed to drag on as the pair kept watch in tense silence. Mere moments had passed when a group of regs, shiny ones at that, crested over the hill towards them. 

“Where’s the Padawan?” the leader asked.

“Being taken care of. We have a team working on it,” Specter answered, instinctively deepening her voice and adding distortion to her modulator.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Hunter’s handling it,” Wrecker chimed in.

“We have orders from the Supreme Chancellor himself,” the reg pushed, almost robotically. 

“That’s great, but like I said, Hunter’s handling it,” Wrecker insisted.

“Step aside, Trooper,” the reg ordered, getting in Wrecker’s face before running off with his group.

“Sure thing, boss,” Wrecker mocked them. Specter sighed.

“Hunter, you’ve got regs inbound,” she reported.

“Copy that,” Hunter replied.

“We have a situation,” Tech chimed in on the comm. Specter and Wrecker looked and nodded at each other, confirming they could hear him. “It appears the regs have been ordered to execute the Jedi.”

“What? Which Jedi?” Hunter asked incredulously. 

“All of them.” A chill made its way down Specter’s spine. “They’re saying the Jedi have committed treason.”

“Against who? The Chancellor?” she asked. She wracked her brain to formulate some sort of logical explanation. Even if the Jedi had committed treason, their mass execution without a fair trial made no sense. At the very least, General Billaba made no direct offense to the Chancellor. 

“I’m not sure. I suggest you all get back here.” Wrecker and Specter shrugged at each other before starting the trek back toward the Marauder.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reuniting with her team did little to ease her anxious spirit. Whatever had happened between Hunter and Crosshair had them in a tense and peculiar mood. Neither of them spoke, and they seemed to be avoiding each other for the entire journey. Specter stood behind Wrecker in his seat, watching as their home planet slowly grew closer.

“We’re coming up on Kamino,” Tech reported.

“It’s good to be home. How long has it been?” Wrecker said.

“One hundred and eighty rotations in a standard cycle, but galactic zone changes but the adjusted figure at around two hundred and five,” Tech, of course answered. A moment of silence passed, Specter tried to hide her smile, knowing that Wrecker was still trying to calculate.

“What?” he finally asked. Echo sighed and shook his head.

“A long time.”

“You got that right!” Wrecker laughed. Hunter came up behind them as they flew through the stormy clouds. Out of the corner of her eye, Specter watched her twin turn away from the Sergeant, helmet still on, shoulders stiff. Curious. 

[What’s wrong?] she signed.

[Nothing.] 

[Don’t give me that. I’m your twin and I can tell something else is bothering you.] He didn’t reply, crossing his arms and hiding his hands. She sighed in annoyance and turned back to the viewport.

“Unidentified transport, transmit your clearance code,” a voice over the intercom said. Specter looked up in confusion.

“Clearance code? Did they suddenly forget who we are?” she scoffed.

“Must be a protocol drill,” Tech said, shaking his head. “Transmitting clearance code.”

“Authorization confirmed. Proceed to landing bay one-tac-one.” Tech directed the ship towards Tipoca City, guiding it to land. It was then Specter pulled Hunter and Crosshair aside; the two knew they were in trouble or least in for a scolding.

“Look,” she said, “whatever happened between you two on Kaller, whatever that animosity is, I want it to stop.” The boys looked at each other, scowling. “See? That! Leave whatever that is on the ship because I do not want to have to deal with that on top of whatever else we’re going to have to deal with once we step off this ship. Got it?” she pointed at both of them.

“Yes, ma’am,” they both grumbled. She nodded and exited the ship, cautiously looking around the hangar and waiting to follow Hunter. Troopers with red painted armor walked by, Specter bit her tongue to keep her expression neutral.

“Shock troopers? What’s the Coruscant guard doing here?” Hunter questioned. 

“As cool as it is to see them, I’m not liking the circumstances,” Specter commented.

“Level five lockdown remains in effect. Security teams, rapport to the command center,” the voice of the PA announced. 

“This isn’t a drill,” Tech said, surprised.

“Oh, man! What did we miss now?” Wrecker cried.

“The end of the war,” a passing shock trooper answered. Hunter turned toward him.

“Say again, Trooper?”

“General Grievous was defeated on Utapau. The Separatist leadership has collapsed. The war is over.”

“Just like I said,” Tech mumbled. 

“It is just like you said,” Wrecker gasped, nudging him. Heading their way, a few troopers were carrying a body, covered by a sheet; a lightsaber fell out from under it, but the shock trooper picked it up casually. Specter felt the chill in her spine again. 

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No problem,” Hunter slowly answered. “We’ll just head to our barracks then.” He nodded for the Batch to start following him to their room.

“Best hurry. There’s a mandatory general assembly at 1500,” the clone called after them. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Specter’s unease only increased as the group walked through the corridors, passing units of clones marching in mechanical formation. Everything down to the air they were breathing seemed different, and Specter was itching to know why. Clone Force 99 rarely went unnoticed in the halls, though it was hardly ever positive chatter. Specter certainly didn’t miss the stares and comments from other troops, but the silence made the knot in her stomach twist tighter. 

“It’s not just the clones on Kaller. All the regs are acting strange,” Hunter noted aloud. 

“Yeah… something’s really wrong, I don't like this” Specter mused. 

“Let’s test that theory,” Tech said, stepping out of line towards an oncoming soldier. “Excuse me, Trooper. What division are you from?” 

“Step aside,” the reg elbowed him out of the way.

“Oh. Well they seem the same to me.” Tech shrugged and walked with the rest of the group.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they finally made it to their room, Wrecker stood a few feet from the doorway and stretched.

“Ah! Good to be back,” he said.

“The smell’s getting worse,” Echo commented as he entered the room, wrinkling his nose. 

“You’re still new. You’ll get used to it,” Hunter patted his shoulder as he passed by into the room. Specter was right behind him, already undoing her hair while Crosshair held her helmet.

“Yeah, because if you don’t, you will die,” she jeered. 

“Speak for yourself,” Crosshair mumbled, pushing them out of the way. Specter rolled her eyes, finally letting her hair down and massaging her scalp, combing through any tangles with her fingers. She flopped onto Hunter’s bunk rather than her own.

“Eleven more successful missions,” Wrecker cheered, adding eleven more tallies to their board. “Like there was any doubt.”

“Kaller wasn’t a win,” Echo shook his head. 

“Says who? We completed our objective,” Wrecker argued, grabbing his stuffed Tooka when he finished. 

“Not every objective,” Crosshair hissed. They all turned to look at him. Specter felt her stomach drop, sensing where her twin was going with this, “Hunter let that Jedi kid escape. Or do you want to keep lying to us?” 

Hunter abruptly got up from the table and went to the window; Specter huffed, knowing her request from earlier was going to be ignored. 

“I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective,” he replied, gruffly. 

“An order is an order,” Crosshair insisted, taking a few steps.

“Crosshair, when have we ever–”

“Since when?” Hunter narrowed his eyes, interrupting Specter as the sniper shifted his toothpick.

“None of this makes sense!” Echo interjected. “Those clones served alongside General Billaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?” he asked incredulously. 

“Even if the Jedi did commit treason it still doesn’t make sense!” Specter added to his point. 

“Easy, its because of the regs programming,” Tech answered nonchalantly. 

“What programming?” Hunter growled.

“It’s been well documented that the Kaminoans inhibited the cognitive functions of clones to engineer them to follow orders without question.”

“Ha! We sure don’t.” Wrecker came around and punched the back of Crosshair’s shoulder before bringing him close, Lula still in hand. 

“Obviously, we are different,” Tech tilted his head in self agreement. “They manipulated preexisting aberrations in our DNA, resulting in your brute strength, Crosshair’s sharp shooting skills,” the sniper pushed Wrecker off of him, but not before he caught a few hits from the brute’s stuffed tooka, “Hunter’s enhanced senses, my exceptional mind, and Specter.”

“Wow, really feeling the love, Tech,” Specter deadpanned.

“Fine then, I’ll rephrase. My exceptional mind and your accelerated mental and physical capabilities,” Tech rolled his eyes as Specter smiled smugly to herself. “My guess is we are immune to the effects of the programming. Though I can’t be 100% certain of it.” “What about Echo? He was a reg before he joined us,” Hunter brought up. 

“Yeah, if all regs were programmed, why didn’t I react like the others?” Echo asked.

“The damage you sustained on Skako Minor most likely wiped out all of your preset behavioral modifications. You are more machine than man… percentage wise at least,” Tech explained.

“Either that or you’ve hung around us for too long,” Specter chuckled, bringing a leg up to her chest and resting her head on her knee. 

“Lucky me,” Echo sighed. A voice over the PA system spoke again. 

“All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic.”

“This is one meeting I don’t want to miss,” Hunter said, heading for the door.

“First time for everything,” Tech shrugged. Specter threw her head back and groaned.

“I just undid my hair,” she complained, already gathering it once again into a tight ponytail as she followed her squad. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Specter knew that what the Supreme Chancellor— Emperor— had said was important, but it all just made her tired and unfocussed, and the discontentment in her team did not help.

“Galactic Empire?” Echo questioned once more, “We’re soldiers of the Republic.”

“Republic, Empire… what’s the difference?” Crosshair drawled. Specter noticed Hunter tilt his head and slow his pace: he was sensing something.

“The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me,” Tech said. Hunter suddenly held up his hand, stopping the group.

“Lads, we’ve got company.” They turned around and found a young, blond-haired girl behind them, smiling and waving.

“Hello,” she said sweetly. Wrecker peered at her.

“What’s that?” he asked aloud. Specter flicked the back of his head.

“Di'kut, you don’t just call someone a ‘that’,” she scolded.

“Adolescent human female,” Tech analyzed. Specter put a hand to her face. “Origins… uncertain.”

“My name’s Omega,” the girl introduced. “I was wondering when you guys would come back.”

“You know who we are?” Hunter asked, stepping forward. She looked at each of them.

“Hunter, Specter, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair. You’re Clone Force 99,” she said with a smile.

“What are you doing on Kamino, hun?” Specter gently asked, bending down a little.

“Her job, of course,” a voice answered before the girl could do so herself. Specter stood back up in the presence of Nala Se, the primary clone engineer. “She is my medical assistant, one with a curious mind that causes her to wander,” the Kaminoan chided. She gave a curious glance at Specter—who squirmed under the uncanny gaze—before putting her long hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Come, Omega. There is work to do.” The girl slowly followed her away, giving one last wave to the Bad Batch before she disappeared.

“This day keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Hunter muttered, shaking his head.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Specter quietly ate her food, listening to the chatter around her and to the conversation at the Batch’s lonely table. She sat across from Crosshair, her feet under her on the bench as she mindlessly balanced a spoon on her finger. Wrecker once again brought up Tech’s programming theory. 

“Clones being programmed. Nothing controls me,” he insisted, standing up from his seat with his hands on the table, jutting a thumb at himself. 

“Wrecker, it is a logical conclusion that your affinity for destruction stems from your conditioning,” Tech argued.

“You take that back,” Wrecker growled, pointing.

“I am merely stating a scientific hypothesis based on factual data.”

“Well, I got a fact for you. I like to blow things up because I like to blow things up!” Wrecker yelled, slamming his fists on the table and silencing the room for a moment. Specter shot him a glare as the spoon fell off her finger. “Got it?”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Crosshair teased as the chatter continued. Specter snickered. Hunter sat down with his food tray next to Tech. 

“An Imperial’s been sent to evaluate the clones. Everybody’s talking about it,” he reported.

“What kind of evaluation?” Echo asked.

“Hopefully not mental. Clearly we’d never pass that,” Tech commented. Specter gave him a glare as well, until a familiar face, for some reason, appeared next to Hunter with their food tray.

“Hello again,” she waved; the girl was met with silent, curious looks. “Omega. From earlier?” They all glanced at each other, Specter’s mouth pressed into a line. “In the corridor?” Omega tried again.

“Uh, yeah, kid. We remember. Don’t you have someplace to be?” Hunter asked.

“No. I’ll stay.” She had already started picking at the food on her tray.

“You want to sit with us?” Tech asked. Omega nodded. “That’s never happened before.”

“Wow,” Wrecker gasped. Specter was just as surprised as he was.

“I like you. You don’t fit in around here either,” Omega said. 

“We don’t fit in? Cross, why didn’t you tell me?” Specter teased, feigning surprise and poking at Crosshair who couldn’t hide a smirk. 

“What are you really doing here on Kamino, kid?” Hunter questioned, “Don’t you have a family somewhere? Parents?” 

“Parents?” the girl repeated.

“Check it out,” a passing reg said from his group, “the defect squad’s got themselves a new recruit.” He chuckled with his friends.

“Another member added to the Sad Batch,” another teased. Specter ignored the comment; any encounter with regs led to more trouble than it was worth. 

The regs’ laughter was immediately stopped when a piece of their rations hit the closest one in the back of the head. Specter swiveled her head to see which of her squad had been foolish enough to instigate the fight.

“What the… who threw that?” he shouted.

“I did.” Omega was standing on the table, tossing another piece in her hand. Specter smiled, admiring her adorable tenacity. “Now apologize to my friends,” she insisted, pointing to the others at the table.

“I like this kid!” Wrecker cheered, elbowing Echo next to him. 

“What did you say to me?” The clone angrily approached Omega, but Hunter stopped him. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Back off. I suggest you keep moving,” he warned. Wrecker stood up behind Omega, ready for a fight. The clone scoffed.

“Know your place, lab scrapper,” he said before walking away. Specter and Crosshair shared a look, knowing a fight was coming, especially when Wrecker threw a whole tray at the reg.

“Oops,” he said with a grin and more trays in hand.

“That’s it!” the reg shouted.

“Oh, yeah!” Wrecker cheered, throwing the other trays. Chaos erupted as Hunter punched a nearby reg and dodged another.

“Oh, not again,” Echo groaned, a hand running down his face. Crosshair and Specter tried to ignore them all and continue eating. Wrecker landed atop a group, Echo kicked, Omega threw, Echo punched but got kicked back onto the table, knocking over Crosshair’s tray; the sniper angrily joined the fight too, throwing his tray and hitting multiple regs. A few made their way over to Specter, looking for a fight.

“Really, boys?” she glared at them, daring one of them to make the first move. Instead they scurried off like a tooka with its tail between its legs. She smirked to herself. 

“Echo, watch out!” she heard Tech call out. Specter turned just in time to see Echo get knocked out. 

“Told you he’s alive!” Wrecker cheered as they entered the room, where Echo was indeed sitting up.

“No, I told you he was alive because I really doubt that you can kill someone with a lunch tray,” Specter recalled as they came around to his bed. 

“You owe me two credits,” Wrecker pointed at Crosshair, who only shook his head. 

“CT-1409’s condition is stable,” the little medical droid reported. “But I have some distressing news for the rest of you. According to your test results, you all appear to be genetically defective clones,” it whispered, as though it were some secret. Specter merely raised her eyebrow. “I will leave you to process the shock of this revelation.” The little droid hovered out of the room.

“We’ve got a problem,” Echo said once the droid left.

“We all have problems; take Cross for example,” Specter teased, jutting into the sniper with her elbow, who nudged her back.

“Not that,” Echo said, “a different problem.”

“We’re more deviant than we are defective,” Tech chimed in.

“Admiral Tarkin’s here,” Echo cut to the point. “He’s the one evaluating the clones.”

“The same Tarkin from the Citadel rescue when you, uh,” Tech searched for the right words, “how shall I put this?”

“Blew up?” Wrecker finished for him.

“And turned into that?” Crosshair added with a smile. 

“See, now there was an appropriate setting of calling someone a ‘that’,” Specter said. Echo rolled his eyes.

“Yes. And he’s not a big supporter of clones.”

“We’ll soon find out,” Hunter said. “We’ve been summoned by the prime minister.”

“Guess he didn’t find that mess hall fight amusing. But I sure did,” Wrecker laughed. 

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Hunter nodded his head toward the door. Echo hopped off the bed and followed the rest of his grip towards the exit. However, Omega ran out in front to stop them.

“Wait. The fight was my fault. I’m going too,” she insisted.

“Not happening,” Hunter said, brushing past her.

“We’ll handle this,” Specter assured, walking by as well.

“But I…” Omega tried, but Hunter turned around to face her. 

“Listen, kid. Our squad’s nothing but trouble. For your sake, keep your distance,” the Sergeant warned. “Got it?” He left the room with the rest of his group before she could even answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It turned out to be that the Bad Batch was not about to be reprimanded, but rather tested on their skills. Admiral Tarkin was apparently impressed with their “performance” in the mess hall and wanted to see more of the squad in action.

The team rose up for the floor into the training room, fully geared up and ready to go; Specter had resorted to keeping her ponytail under her helmet. Tarkin and Prime Minister Lama Su were in the observation deck.

“The value of all clone troopers is being challenged by the Empire. To demonstrate your effectiveness, a combat-proficiency test is in order. Take your positions,” the Admiral announced. 

“We’ve done these a thousand times, boys,” Hunter said to his team. “You know what to do.”

“A battle simulation? Give us a real challenge,” Wrecker said, banging his fists together before moving to take cover with the team. The training droids and towers activated and began to fire. 

“Crosshair, take the towers,” Hunter ordered. The sniper nodded and snuck around the side, climbing up to the tower and disabling all of them. “Move in,” he said next. Wrecker and Tech advanced first.

“I’ll cover you,” Echo assured Hunter. 

“And I’ll cover you,” Specter replied. They each made their way towards cover, trying to shoot down more droids as they went. 

“This is taking way too long,” Wrecker groaned.

“Hey, if you’re gonna go barrelling out there, at least give me a boost,” Specter called out. Wrecker laughed and nodded before they both leapt out from their cover; she ran at him, stepping into his intertwined hands and letting him launch her across the training area, shooting at the droids as she flew over them. When Specter landed, she disabled the rest of the droids in her proximity while Wrecker fired relentlessly at the ones near him, finishing the battle. 

“What else ya got? Give me more!” he yelled excitedly, shaking his fist up at Tarkin and the Prime Minister. Specter shook her head at his antics and went back to regroup, crouching by Tech. However, Wrecker got his wish when two large droids were brought into the facility. “New toys. Now we’re talking,” he cheered, running and firing at them; yet when he attempted to punch one of them, the droid didn’t budge. Instead, it pushed him off and shot at him, and Wrecker fell to the floor.

“Live rounds,” Specter shouted into the arena to Crosshair, firing at the droids even though her stun bolts would be ineffective. 

“Get Wrecker,” Hunter said to Tech, “we’ll cover you.” He and Echo joined Specter in shooting the droids while Tech made his way over to where Wrecker had crawled out of the way. 

“I’m starting to think Tarkin just wanted to give us a glorious death,” Specter said, taking cover next to Hunter. She glanced over at Crosshair, who had made a shot at the droids but was now climbing down from the tower to avoid their fire, as well as dodging the other droids that appeared. He took cover with her, Hunter, and Echo.

“This is going well,” he drawled.

“Shut up, will you?” Specter hissed, firing again.

“These training blasters are useless on them,” Echo complained.

“Then we improvise,” Hunter said, “If Tarkin wants to test us, let’s not disappoint him.” He lifted his helmet and whistled, getting Tech and Wrecker’s attention, before signaling with his hands. Wrecker eventually gave a thumbs up before moving to execute the plan. Specter, Hunter, and Crosshair acted as a diversion and provided cover for Echo as he ran to support Tech and Wrecker. The brute wrestled down one of the droids while Echo used his scomp to disable another, allowing for Tech to reprogram and control the downed droid. Up on its shoulders, Tech used the droid to fire at the others, distracting them enough for the batch to deliver finishing blows. 

“Spec, heads up!” Hunter shouted; his knife cut through the arms of a droid, flying by her head and landing on the ground near her. She attached it to the end of her rifle and used it to stab and swing.

“I cannot sustain the connection,” Tech announced before the droid threw him off. He lay on the ground, groaning and unmoving. 

“Tech!” Specter shouted after him before throwing the knife at the wayward droid. The blade stuck into its arm, but was ineffective. “Kark,” she hissed, ducking for cover as the droid turned to fire at her. 

“Crosshair, we need more coverfire,” Hunter shouted. 

“Tech, hang in there, buddy!” Wrecker called out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he grunted in reply. Crosshair continued to assess the situation, looking for a solution, until he caught sight of Wrecker in the droid’s firing line. 

“Wrecker, knife!” he shouted. Wrecker threw his knife at the sniper, who shot it mid-air, sending it into the droid’s head and shutting it down. Specter couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Nice work, adla’vod,” she said as they all emerged from their cover, clapping her hand tightly with his. Wrecker and Echo went to check on Tech and helped him to his feet. Specter sighed, the test had been simple enough, but she was more than glad it was over. She only hoped the Admiral had seen what he needed to. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tarkin peered at the embryo floating in the tube, still mulling over what he had seen in the training room.

“Extraordinary, aren’t they?” Nala Se’s soothing, yet monotone, voice spoke a few steps behind the governor. 

“That remains to be seen,” he replied curtly. “Tell me about Clone Force 99.”

“They are medically defective clones whose cellular mutations enhanced traits desirable in a soldier,” the Kaminoan answered. Tarkin gazed at the young girl by her side, analyzing her.

“How many of these clones do you possess?”

“Six are all that remain.”

“This includes the female, yes?” Tarkin inquired. Nala Se hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. “Tell me about her.”

“CT-9905, as she has been redesignated, is the only clone that was produced from Project Valkyrie before it was terminated due to a corruption of the DNA sample,” Lama Su answered this time. “She possesses increased reactivity in both her physical and mental attributes, and charts higher in endurance and speed tests than the average specimen.”

“It’s unfortunate the project was scrapped. She would have been a lucrative asset to the Empire,” Tarkin mused.

“And she still can be, with Clone Force 99,” Lama Su said. 

“Yet reports indicate they exhibit a concerning level of disobedience and disregard for orders,” added Tarkin. 

“A side effect of their mutation. Yet one that has never hindered the completion of their missions,” Nala Se gently reminded.

“Then they executed Order 66?”

“Since both the Jedi General and Padawan on Kaller were eliminated, one would assume,” Lama Su argued.

“Assume nothing,” Tarkin snapped, “Only the general’s death is confirmed. A counter-report, filed by one of their own, says the Padawan escaped.” The Kaminoans glanced at each other, surprised. “Let us see where the loyalty of these clones truly lies.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Live rounds? They used live rounds on us?” Wrecker said, incredulously, throwing his helmet off as they entered their room. 

“We were there, Wrecker. We know,” Tech replied.

“I tried to warn you about Tarkin,” Echo reminded. 

“Who’s that Imperial snake think he is?” Wrecker pounded his fist on the table. 

“Stow it, already. You got shot. It happens all the time,” Crosshair hissed.

“There’s a fundamental difference between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice,” Tech added. 

“Exactly! We’re not dummy droids,” Wrecker said. 

Specter walked in after them all, holding herself and looking deflated and disappointed. Hunter wordlessly pulled her aside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, quietly. 

“If I’d just thrown that knife straight, I would’ve hit that droid. I’m better than that,” she said, not meeting his eyes and tightening her arms, “Someone could’ve gotten hurt. Well… even more so.” 

“Hey, you did fine. We did what we could given the circumstances. I’m sure we can work on your knife skills some more,” he assured, putting his hand on her shoulder. A shadow eclipsed the light in the doorway. It was Tarkin, with two guards standing behind him. The man stood, observing each of them. Specter shifted under his scrutinous gaze but stood at attention next to Crosshair.

“That was quite an impressive display,” he said, walking into the group. 

“Didn’t have much choice,” Hunter replied. 

“Our new empire may have methods which seem a bit unorthodox, but so does this squadron. Both certainly have their merits.” The Governor eyed Wrecker, who towered over him. “Nala Se speaks quite highly of her six enhanced clones. She claims you’re more capable than an army.”

“You have a mission for us, sir?” Hunter asked, side-eyeing him but quickly sharing a look with Specter. 

“Indeed,” he affirmed, turning back toward the Sergeant. “We have tracked a group of insurgents to the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with.”

“What sort of insurgents?” Echo went to clarify.

“Separatist forces intent on keeping the galaxy at war. If you neutralize this grave threat, you will be looked upon most favorably as I assess the needs of the Imperial Army,” Tarkin explained before leaving the room. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ll say this for the Empire,” Wrecker announced to Tech as he, Crosshair, and Specter returned from the armory, “they know their firepower. You should see the new armory!” Specter sat on the crate of weapons Wrecker pushed toward the ship, her hair once again weaved back into a braided coronet. 

“He actually cried,” Crosshair remarked.

“Hey, we both did,” Wrecker reminded. “And Specter is still crying.” 

“Tech… I’m in love,” Specter sighed dreamily as she hopped off the crate, seemingly dazed in a weapon-fueled fantasy. 

“There’s no room on board for that,” Tech warned. 

“For love or the crate?”

“Both.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll make room.” Wrecker grunted as he lifted up the crate and headed towards the ship. “A new mission and unlimited explosives. Things are back to normal.”

“That is not going near my rack. I refuse to sleep by a projectile again,” Tech rambled, following the brute inside. Specter went to follow Crosshair up the stairs, but he suddenly stopped in front of her, causing her to bump into him and slip on the step.

“Hey! What-”

“It’s the kid again,” Crosshair interrupted, nodding toward Hunter kneeling by Omega. Specter couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the little girl looked very concerned as she talked to their leader.

“How is it looking?” she asked, knowing her brother’s sight would benefit.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, shifting his toothpick. Specter thought back to the food fight. Sure, Omega looked innocent and sweet, and of course she was a child. But in times like this, even a child could be untrustworthy. Working so close to Nala Se, Specter couldn’t help but wonder what types of secrets the girl had to hide. She shook her head—the anxiety would do no good for this new mission.

“Well, I’d rather get this mission over with. Hunt! Let’s go!” she shouted. The Sergeant turned to acknowledge her, standing up to leave. Crosshair shoved past Specter to the bottom of the steps, waiting for their leader to come return. 

“Problem?” Crosshair asked as he came close, putting a hand on his hip.

“Uh, something about her I can’t figure out,” Hunter explained.

“Well, I guess kids aren’t your area of expertise,” Crosshair said, patting his shoulder.

“Or maybe it’s just that girls aren’t,” Specter teased, already stepping into the Marauder.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She held her blaster tightly as the group exited the ship to the dark night of Onderon.  Ambience of the forest filled her ears, she flinched at the sound of a roar in the distance.

“What was that?” Echo wondered apprehensively.

“You don’t want to know,” Tech answered.

“Well, at least it’s not a swamp,” Wrecker replied. 

“Close enough,” Crosshair said.

“I think I would have preferred mud in my boots than critters in my face,” Specter shivered at the thought.

“The Separatist encampment’s two klicks south. We’ll continue on foot and do a full perimeter scan,” Hunter said, kneeling towards a path before stopping an eager Wrecker, “covertly.”

“Oh, come on! It’s been days since I’ve blown something up,” he whined while the team passed by him.

“Easy, Wrecker. Your programming’s kicking in,” Tech teased. Specter couldn’t help but laugh aloud as they made their way into the jungle. 

While Tech led the group with his scanner, Specter kept an eye on the rear, walking backward and letting Crosshair guide her.

“How many droids are we talking about, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“I can’t tell from this distance. Something’s blocking my scan,” Tech reported, smacking his device a few times and stopping the group. “Anything back there?” he shouted towards Specter. She flipped down the antennae on her helmet, switching to a thermal readout and finding-

“Nothing.”

“Clankers always travel in packs. Let’s get a closer look at what we’re walking into,” Hunter advised leading them forward. They kept walking until they made it to a rocky outcropping that overlooked the dimly lit encampment. Crosshair and Tech lay on their stomachs while Echo and Specter kneeled beside them; Crosshair and Specter peered through their rifle sights while Tech and Echo looked through their binocs. “Tell me what you see, Tech,” Hunter said. 

“I’m clocking heat signatures ahead but zero droids,” he replied.

“Tarkin said insurgents, not droids,” Crosshair recalled.

“I’m not sure they’re either,” Echo said. Specter swept through the area again, just to make sure she was seeing clearly.

“Sarge, there are children down there,” she reported, quickly and urgently. 

“Children? Out here?” he wondered, taking Echo’s binocs. 

“Children. Elderly. Medical supplies, personal items… they look more like refugees.”

“Something’s not right,” the Sergeant mumbled.

“What are you waiting for? Give the order,” Crosshair said, keeping his weapon ready, and although she was apprehensive, so did Specter. 

“Negative. Stand down” Hunter ordered instead. 

“What?” Crosshair and Specter cried at the same time, pulling away from their scopes.

“You mean, we’re not blasting any droids?” asked Wrecker disappointedly.

“There aren’t any droids, Wrecker,” Tech reminded him.

“Well, so what do we do?”

“We finish the mission,” Crosshair answered Wrecker’s question. “Make the call, Hunter.”

“Cross,” Specter said slowly in warning, having already lowered her rifle.  

“We’re not alone. Now stand down,” Hunter ordered again. A rustling was heard seconds before the “insurgents” appeared, surrounding them with their blasters ready. The Batch reflexively raised their weapons too.

“You heard him. Stand down,” one of them said. Hunter slowly stood up and put a hand on Wrecker’s gun.

“Let’s hear them out,” he advised, putting his hands up in surrender, “trust me.” One by one the squad holstered their weapons and did the same, including Crosshair who groaned in frustration. 

Echo observed as the soldiers led them down to the camp.

“These aren’t Separatists. They’re Republic fighters,” he said.

“Why would Tarkin send us to attack our own forces?” Tech wondered. Specter caught the gaze of a few of the children. She tried to give them a reassuring smile but they only hid themselves away. 

“Because we refuse to fight for an Empire,” a voice answered. A man stepped forward, Specter recognized him.

“You’re Saw Gerrera. Trained by Captain Rex and General Skywalker to fight for the Republic,” Tech said, also recognizing him. 

“I based some of my combat tactics off of you,” Specter rambled excitedly. The man only scoffed, looking over the group.

“So, the newly declared empire sent you to wipe us out?” he accused, taking one of Hunter’s pistols and examining it. 

“Well, we’re here to neutralize a group of insurgents,” Hunter explained. Gerrera chuckled grimly.

“Well… here we are.” He held his arms out, indicating the group of people around him. “What are you gonna do? Strike us down like you did the Jedi?”

“Is that a request?” Crosshair hissed. 

“Quit it,” Specter scolded, kicking his leg a little. 

“We expected to find battle droids, not…” Hunter tried to find the words.

“Civilians?” Gerrera finished for him. “Times change, targets change. Why don’t you take a look at the insurgents you were sent to destroy. Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about.” The Batch looked guiltily at the gathered group of refugees. “Let’s mobilize. Pack up the camp,” he ordered, walking toward the children to check on them while the other fighters prepared to move out. Hunter and Echo stepped forward.

“What’s going on here? Who are these people?” Hunter asked, almost desperately.

“Villagers, croppers, former Republic fighters, all now displaced refugees since Palpatine unjustly appointed himself Emperor.”

“According to reports, the Jedi made an attempt on the Supreme Chancellor’s life. His actions were a defensive measure,” Tech spoke up. Gerrera scoffed again, smiling woefully. 

“And I figured you for the smart one.” Tech flinched at the remark. “With the Jedi decimated and the clone army under his command, Palpatine will have control over the entire galaxy. Unless we stop him,” he said, determined.

“The war is over,” Crosshair said. Specter didn’t stop him this time. 

“If we give up now, everything we fought for… everyone we lost, will have been for nothing. I won’t let that happen. The Clone War may have ended, but a civil war is about to begin.”

“With a handful of fighters and limited firepower? You may have lost a lot but there’s still so much to lose. You don’t stand a chance,” Specter spoke up against their tenacity.

“Not alone we don’t,” argued Gerrera. 

“We should leave if we’re gonna make the rendezvous,” one of the fighters came up to him. “What do we do with them?” he nodded towards the clones. Saw Gerrera thought for a moment, eyeing them.

“The clones once helped us free Onderon, so we’ll give them a choice. The old ways are done. You can either adapt and survive, or die with the past. The choice is yours.” He handed Hunter his pistol back and powered down the camp’s light source, following the refugees and fighters into the forest, leaving the Bad Batch among themselves. Wrecker handed everyone’s helmets back before they went to leave. Hunter went to follow but turned back once again, scanning their surroundings. 

“At least with the Republic we knew where we stood,” Tech mentioned. The hike back to the Marauder was tense enough. “Tarkin and this Empire are a whole different story.” Crosshair suddenly shove Tech.

“Why are we debating this? We need to complete the mission,” he argued.

“Wake up, Crosshair,” Echo intervened, “they sent us to eliminate innocent civilians.”

“Who said they’re innocent?” Crosshair sneered. Hunter responded before Specter could.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? I’m following orders,” the sniper defended.

“Exactly!”

“Those insurgents are plotting against the Emperor. If you don’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done, then you’re not fit to lead this squad.” The silence rang loud as their eyes bore into each other’s. A branch snapped and in a split second, Hunter’s gaze shifted to a probe droid over Crosshair’s shoulder. He shot it down easily. 

“We’re being followed,” was all Hunter said. Specter shot the sniper a glare before following the Sergeant to investigate.

“It’s a probe droid,” Tech identified, surprised.

“Tarkin’s spying on us now?” Wrecker asked. “The Jedi never did that.”

“Not that you know of,” Crosshair mumbled, walking up to the group. They all glared at him, Hunter seemed to be thinking as he looked over the droid once more. 

“Omega,” he suddenly remembered, turning back towards the ship.

“What about her?” Specter wondered. 

“She warned me about the mission. And Tarkin. She said not to return to Kamino, that it’s not safe for us anymore,” he explained.

“Maybe she’s right,” Wrecker grunted.

“We’re taking the word of a child now?” Crosshair grumbled.

“We take your words, don’t we?” Specter teased, passing him by and stepping up into the ship’s entryway next to Tech.

“I would not discount Omega’s insight,” Tech interjected, “a state of heightened awareness is not unusual for an enhanced clone such as herself.” Wrecker laughed and pointed.

“Good one, Tech. You almost had me.” He sat himself down on the steps of the ship.

“When Nala Se spoke of six clones, Tarkin assumed that meant us, but Echo’s a reg. The sixth is Omega. I confirmed my suspicions after analyzing her DNA while we were in the infirmary,” he explained, casually adjusting his goggles. 

“I like how you just decided to analyze her DNA without prompt,” Specter couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the tension. 

“You waited until now to mention it?” chided Echo.

“Well, I thought it was obvious,” Tech shrugged.

“How is it obvious?” yelled Wrecker, standing up and turning around. 

“We’re going back for her,” Hunter decided. Crosshair scowled and stood in front of him, blocking him from stepping into the ship. 

“Disobeying orders again over a kid? Bad play, Hunter,” he warned, poking the Sergeant’s chest. Hunter shoved his hand away. 

“She’s one of us.” He started to walk up the ramp before turning around to face the sniper again. “We’re not leaving her there.” They boarded the ship; Specter gave one last pained look at Crosshair before she boarded, and as much as she loved her brother, she couldn’t force herself to be on his side this time. He reluctantly followed behind her. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m getting no response from com-scan. This is unusual,” Tech cautiously reported as they flew through the clouds of Kamino. 

“Bring us in. We’ll find out what’s going on,” Hunter assured. Specter still hadn’t released the tension she held from Onderon; she was aware it would do her teeth no good to keep her jaw so tight, but she couldn’t help but feel that everything was wrong… and that things were about to get worse. She was itching to ask Crosshair what he truly thought, what he felt, what he had planned. She’d finally caved and approached her brother just as Tech touched down on the landing dock. The squad exited the ship and led themselves through the empty dock to the closed bay doors. 

“Stick to the plan. Split up, find Omega, meet back here at the ship,” Hunter said before allowing Tech to open the door. They cautiously walked through the dark hangar, only making it several meters before Hunter sensed something and held up his hand, stopping them. A second later, the Coruscant Guard appeared and had them surrounded, blasters raised. Specter crouched in a defensive position but didn’t bother reaching for her gun.

“As expected,” Crosshair hissed. Governor Tarkin came forward.

“The Empire does not tolerate failure, Sergeant.”

“There were complications,” tried Hunter, completely sheathing his blade.

“Yes, the probe droid’s report was quite detailed. Conspiring with Saw Gerrera.” The Bad Batch stood up straight, shocked at the accusation. “I assume you know the punishment for treason,” the Governor drawled, almost gloating.

“Treason?” Hunter scoffed, shocked. 

“Throw them in the brig,” Tarkin ordered. The Batch complied, not wanting to worsen their situation. They were shoved towards the brig with the ends of blasters and unsympathetic clones surrounding them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stripped of their armor down to their blacks, the squad was roughly shoved into the cell. Specter grunted and stumbled inside, nearly falling before her twin helped her to right herself. 

“Smells weird,” Wrecker commented, snoozing the air.

“Because it’s clean,” Echo said. 

“Well, the plan wasn’t a total failure,” Tech observed, finding Omega sitting in the corner of the cell, waving sheepishly.

“Convenient,” Specter deadpanned.

“Goody,” Crosshair rolled his eyes, earning a light smack from Specter. Hunter made his way through, kneeling in front of the girl.

“I warned you not to come back,” scolded Omega.

“Had to. We were looking for you,” Hunter explained with a smile.

“Me?” she asked, almost in disbelief.

“What do you say, kid? You wanna come with us, or did we get captured for nothing?”

“You came back for me?” she asked again, even more excited.

“That’s right,” Hunter nodded. Specter stepped forward to chime in.

“Or you can stay on Kamino if-”

“No, it’s like I said before. I want to go with you,” Omega stood up, interrupting Specter’s sarcastic remark.

“How touching,” Crosshair sneered from the other side of the cell. Hunter clenched his jaw, but Wrecker cleared his throat, stopping anything else from happening. 

“Uh Hunter, how are we breaking outta here?” he asked.

“I’m working on it,” Hunter practically growled, maintaining eye contact with Crosshair. 

“You know what you should work on? Explaining when you went soft,” Crosshair accused, pointing at Hunter. 

“Here we go,” Specter grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Stow it, Crosshair,” Echo held back the sniper.

“Don’t you see we’re locked up in here because of him? He had us disobey orders,” he argued. 

“Since when has disobeying orders become such a problem for you? We do it all the time, Cross! “ Specter fought back, getting into his face. 

“Good soldiers follow orders. Every choice he’s made since Kaller has been wrong. First the Padawan, then Gerrera. He’s becoming a liability.” The eyes burned into each other as he pointed at Hunter over her shoulder.

“Since when have you ever cared about being a ‘good soldier’?” Specter scoffed, “You know what they call ‘good soldiers’? Regs. You’ve never been worried about going off the book before! But, oh no, sparing children and innocent civilians is where we draw the line? C’mon, adla’vod.”  The rest of the Batch watched as Specter went off on her brother. “What if that Jedi was General Skywalker? What if it was Cody or Rex, instead of Gerrera? What happened to your humanity?” she pushed. Crosshair’s nostrils flared and teeth bared.

“Don’t you dare question me.”

“What, like how you question Hunter? I’ll dare if I want to!”

“We can debate this later,” Hunter pushed them apart. “For now, let’s focus on getting out of here.” The two separated and went to opposite sides of the room. Specter crossed her arms and turned away from Crosshair, watching as Tech examined the walls.

“CT-9904, you’re coming with us,” she heard a voice say. The shield was open and one of the guards walked toward Crosshair. Hunter stood in between.

“Oh, no, no, no. We stay together,” he protested. The guard rammed his blaster into Hunter’s stomach; Specter gasped and rushed to his side as he keeled over. Without any other fuss, Crosshair stood up and followed the guard out of the cell while the rest of the Batch watched him go. 

Time passed excruciatingly slowly; the Bad Batch sat, waiting for something to happen or for a plan to formulate. Specter eyed Omega from her corner of the cell until the girl eventually decided to sit beside her. The two sat in silence as the young one rested her head against Specter’s arm. Though unexpected, the comforting gesture was not unwelcome.

“I’ve got it. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Tech startled Specter out of her thoughts. He went to sit more in the center of the group. “This is not a prison.” 

“Yeah, well, I beg to differ,” Echo grumbled.

“This is a Kaminoan facility,” Tech continued. “It was built prior to the Clone Wars. there were no barracks or prisons when it was constructed.”

“Well, how does that help us?” Hunter asked, leaning in.

“Because while these cells were retrofitted to hold normal individuals, they could not possibly account for someone like Wrecker,” he explained. 

“Oh! You mean I could punch our way out?” Wrecker exclaimed, standing up. Hunter and Omega simultaneously shushed him. He winced and whispered instead. “You mean I could punch our way out?”

“If you punch the correct spot,” Tech nodded.

“Right. Show me where,” Wrecker said, cracking his knuckles. 

“If this is gonna work, we’ll need some cover. Form a wall,” Hunter instructed. He, Omega, Echo, and Specter stood up, forming a barrier to hide Tech. 

“Hit this. Here,” Tech whispered to Wrecker, indicating towards a spot in the wall.

“Right. Tell me when,” he said to the others. Hunter waited a moment, watching for when all the guards would be distracted, engrossed in their conversation.

“Now.” Wrecker punched the wall and quickly sat on the bench. They hadn’t been spotted. Wrecker inspected the spot on the wall; it had sustained no damage.

“Nothing happened,” he reported.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Hunter questioned.

“Try it again. A little harder,” Tech said, determined. 

“You’re all clear. Make it count,” Specter said over her shoulder. Wrecker nodded and drew his fist back, striking the wall with more force. Specter flinched at the noise, noticing Wrecker once again take a seat on the bench. They waited until the guards turned their gazes away before glancing at the wall. 

“Oh, it still didn’t work,” Wrecker grumbled. Tech went to look. 

“Oh, yes it did. Look,” he said, pulling away the now damaged sheet of metal to reveal a hole in the wall. 

“I’ll never fit through that,” Wrecker complained. Specter glanced too.

“I could try but the guards would notice my absence.”

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Omega.

“Are you sure, kid?” Hunter asked.

“I’m sure,” she nodded, looking up at him.

“Okay. Get to the console and hit the lever to lower the ray shield,” he instructed. Omega squeezed into the crevice, Wrecker and Tech replaced the sheet of metal behind her.

“Incoming,” Echo announced as the guards made their way over.

“Wait, where’s the girl?” the leader asked.

“Hey, fellas,” Specter said, resting a hand on her hip and winking.

“Not you. The child.”

“You tell us,” Hunter shrugged.

“Harm her and you’re a dead man,” Echo threatened. 

“Operations, we need a status report on prisoner 0219,” one of the guards relayed into his comm. A creak sounded above them. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” Wrecker spoke up, covering for Omega, and leaning up against the wall, “these floors don’t hold me so well on account of them not being designed for abnormal individuals such as myself.” Hunter and Tech shook their heads at the absurdity. 

“What’s behind you?” the guard asked, peering closer, causing the other guards to ready their blasters.

“Nothing,” Wrecker said, bringing up his hands behind his head in defiance.

“Move away from the wall. Now.”

“Why don’t you come here and make me?” the brute challenged. One of the guard’s comm beeped.

“Copy that. The girl’s still registered in lockdown,” he reported before aiming his blaster at Wrecker. “Tell us where she is,” he ordered. 

As if on cue, Omega fell down from the ceiling on top of the ventilation panel.

“Hit the switch, Omega!” Hunter said. She scrambled to pull the switch before one of the guards went to grab her. She struggled in his grasp.

“Get off!” she cried, swinging her legs and arms.

“Hey, Red,” a voice said behind him. He turned, just as Wrecker punched him across the room. Another guard tried to get up, but Tech simply stunned him with his own blaster, grabbing it for himself. 

“Not bad,” Wrecker complimented the girl.

“We need to find out where they took Cross,” Specter said, stepping over the downed troopers. A pang of worry shot through her. With the entirety of Kamino against them, there was a chance they wouldn’t find him, or if they did, they wouldn’t escape unscathed. Hunter tossed her a blaster, bringing her back to herself. 

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the group out of the room. The squad carefully made their way through the facility.

“We’re not going to get very far without our gear,” Tech said once they had moved to a quiet area in the pristine halls.

“They started moving all your things to the hangar. Your gear might be there too,” Omega said. Hunter nodded.

“This way.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had made it to the hangar without being detected; Omega was right, the Marauder and their gear were there. 

“Alright, boys, suit up. Let’s make this quick,” Hunter said. Specter found her things and quickly dressed in her armor before gathering her weapons and other belongings she deemed important: which, given their lifestyle, wasn’t much. She wasn’t as attached to items as some of the others were. She overheard Wrecker rustling through his things, no doubt looking for Lula. 

“Tech, power up the ship. The rest of us will go after Crosshair,” Hunter instructed. Specter readied her interchangeable rifle, uneasy about retrieving Crosshair. So much was going wrong already, and she couldn’t predict if he would come willingly.

“I don’t think we’ll have to go far,” Omega said, however. The bay doors opened and the Batch ducked down, peeking over the crates at the troops that entered, blasters raised. Specter gasped.

“Is that Crosshair?” asked Wrecker. Hunter looked over at Specter, who watched with a broken heart as her brother appeared from the squad, dawning new Imperial armor. Her grip on her rifle faltered and her hands trembled. Hunter took a breath and went to stand in the center of the room, facing him. 

“Best stand down, Sergeant. Make it easy on yourself,” Crosshair said.

“Have you lost your mind?” Hunter asked angrily.

“We should’ve killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders.”

“I did what I thought was right.” 

“You never could see the bigger picture. Now surrender.” Hunter glanced at the others; Wrecker had put his helmet on and Echo took aim with his pistols, although Specter was still in shock. 

“Is that an order?” asked Hunter. Crosshair smirked a little.

“Heh. I guess it is.”

“Well. I guess I’m disobeying that one too.” Thunder clapped and rumbled as the two stared each other down, Crosshair spat out his toothpick. 

His gaze flickered to Specter, who flinched; she was screaming in her head to get a grip and take aim, only to be contradicted by pleas to surrender and stay with her brother. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. Too much was happening and too fast. She watched her brother’s finger itch over the trigger of his rifle, and knew there would be no easy way out. Even if she gave herself up, what was the likelihood Hunter or even Omega would get caught in the crossfire that would certainly follow? Specter steadied her breathing and regained the strength in her hands to grip her blaster. 

The first shot was fired by Crosshair, who let his rifle fall onto his arm as a mount. Hunter ducked in time and took cover next to Omega as the other troops began to fire. The Batch fired back, Specter opting for her sniper-rifle configuration to try and disable the soldiers. One of Crosshair’s soldiers threw a smoke bomb, filling the room and disrupting everyone’s line of fire; Specter switched to thermals, knowing her brother would too. She unleashed rapid fire through her rifle but knew it would have little to no effect.

“Hunt, they outnumber us. Even if we fired blindly into the smoke, it’s no guarantee,” she reported into a private channel, one without Crosshair. She heard him growl and swear under his breath. 

“Tech, we gotta move. Now,” Hunter said into the comm. 

“I’m working on it,” he replied.

“Wrecker, clear the smoke on three,” Hunter ordered. 

“You got it, boss.” Wrecker lowered his blaster and grabbed two crate lids, ready to clear the smoke.

“Omega, stay low,” Hunter instructed the girl before slowly counting down. When he got to three, Wrecker emerged from his cover and slammed the crate lids together, blowing the smoke away; he even threw one of the lids, knocking down most of the troops. He threw the other at Crosshair, who rolled out of the way and shot Wrecker in the shoulder, knocking him out.

“Osi’kyr!” Specter swore, angrily firing.

“Echo, we go for Wrecker,” she heard Hunter instruct. “Spec, Plan 4: Star Shower.” Specter nodded, shoving her helmet on and quietly reconfiguring her blaster to its shotgun form in the silence of the ceasefire.

“Only one way out, Hunter. Your move,” Crosshair drawled. 

“Go!” Hunter shouted. Specter emerged and fired her rounds at the other clones and the ceiling. Miniature explosions peppered them and fell with debris from above, no doubt confusing Crosshair’s thermals. Echo and Hunter struggled to get Wrecker towards the Marauder by the time her cover had dissipated.

“I’m out,” she announced, grabbing for her pistol as Crosshair took aim again. But another shot rang out, knocking the rifle out of his hand. It was Omega, doing her best to hold a blaster that was most likely too heavy for her. A beat of surprised stillness passed before Crosshair made a move for his pistol— this time, Specter was ready. The two fired furiously at each other, some of their shots even collided and ricocheted off each other. Even when Wrecker and Omega had made it on the ship, Specter didn’t stop firing; she was angry—beyond angry— at Crosshair and everything that tore them apart. 

“Specter, recall!” Hunter shouted from the ship’s entryway over the noise. She growled, running to hop on board just as they took off. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ouch!” Wrecker cried as Specter injected the needle into his arm. She had put herself to work on taking care of him, distracting herself.

“Quit whining,” she teased, ruffling through the med-pack until she found the syringe she was looking for. 

“What’s that gonna do?” he cried as she held it up.

“You’ll be okay. Just hold still.”

“Is this what you were looking for?” Omega said, holding up the stuffed Tooka. Wrecker gasped and grabbed it.

“You found my Lula! Ow!” he cried again. Specter had injected him while he was distracted. Omega giggled as Tech came in with his scanner.

“Let’s see here,” he said before kneeling in front of him, “hold still.

“Don’t examine me. I’m not a computer,” Wrecker shied away, holding onto Lula. 

“Would you rather get shot again?” Specter mused. Wrecker whimpered in response.

“This will take just a second.” Tech held the scanner closer to Wrecker's arm, who grunted at the contact. Specter laughed but watched as Hunter slowly followed Omega, who had wandered into the cockpit. 

Specter stepped back from Wrecker, glancing toward the cockpit where Omega stood, awestruck at the view before her. Her mind wandered back to her own first time in space. She’d refused to admit her fear as the old ship took off. Crosshair had known better, and hadn’t let go of her hand the whole ascension. 

She missed her brother now, as reality struck her with a sickening pang. Had he chosen to stay with them, she could imagine his sarcastic hiss teasing Wrecker for being clumsy and her for becoming a ‘nurse.’ Never in a thousand star-systems had she even imagined her brother, her twin, would betray them like this. It hurt far too much to think about.

“Spec, you alright?” asked Echo, bringing her back. She nodded and stepped back as he helped Wrecker into the cockpit, following them. 

“It’ll take more than a blaster shot to take me down,” Wrecker announced as he entered.

“You were down,” Echo argued.

“Yeah, well, not for long,” he cheered, squeezing Echo, but groaning in pain again. Specter squeezed in between them, pushing Wrecker to sit down.

“You are out of commission until further notice, big guy,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder before going to sit in the co-pilot’s seat next to Tech.

“What’s the plan, Hunter?” he asked. 

“I thought we could go off on our own. Lay low. But with Crosshair gunning for us, I’m not so sure,” Hunter explained.

“What about your friends? Could any of them help us?” Omega asked. 

“That would be a short list,” said Tech.

“Yeah, we could count them on one hand,” Specter followed. 

“I can think of one. Plot a course for J-19,” Hunter said. Specter smiled and plotted the course while Tech brought the system online.

“J-19?” Echo questioned.

“We know a guy,” was all Hunter explained.

“Hold tight, hun. You’re not gonna wanna miss this view,” Specter said to Omega. She could see the stars glimmering in the girl’s wide eyes; she looked up at Hunter and smirked, who winked in response. Omega held tightly onto the arm rest but smiled wide as they shot into hyperspace to their new destination, and hopefully, a safe one.

[ofigarofigaro]

Anybody LOVES halt and catch fire? I picked up the third season and I am once again hooked but nobody’s seen this show except for (1) coworker so that’s nice but I get Intense

[leepace71]

Joe Macmillan.

[beesmygod]

what the hell is halt and catch fire's problem. why did it do that to me. why did it get me that bad. season 1 is an entertaining but bog-standard amc drama. s2 and 3 are a soap opera with a goofy overwrought conclusion. ok fine whatever. season 4 was like a sitcom and i was kind of loving the insane direction it had taken. until it wasnt. ep 7 is like getting shot

[okaydyke]

I decided to track some Halt and Catch Fire stats for no reason whatsoever.

Most watched episode: 1.01 I/O 1.19 million viewers IMDb rating: 8/10 A.V. Club rating: B

Least watched episode: 4.03 Miscellaneous 270 thousand viewers IMDb rating: 8.2/10 A.V. Club rating: A-

Season 1 Average IMDb rating: 8.07 Average A.V. Club rating: C+ Average U.S. viewers (millions): 0.764

Season 2 Average IMDb rating: 8.07 Average A.V. Club rating: B+ Average U.S. viewers (millions): 0.522

Season 3 Average IMDb rating: 8.12 Average A.V. Club rating: A- Average U.S. viewers (millions): 0.338

Season 4 Average IMDb rating: 8.42 Average A.V. Club rating: A- Average U.S. viewers (millions): 0.339

[isagrimorie]

I miss shows that run seasons long. I used to follow the “give a show 3-4 episodes” before giving it up rule. But there are so many shows I love and hold dear that sometimes don’t find themselves until their 2nd season.

Most Star Trek shows don’t find their footing until their 3rd or 4th seasons.

I like the ability to go to the season where it hits stride and then I go back to the previous seasons like they’re prequels to the story I’m following.

Alas, it's not something I can do these days.

(Person of Interest comes to mind, season 2 is where it hits stride for me, and watching season 2 actually made me appreciate season 1 a lot more. Halt and Catch Fire is another one. As much as I love 12 Monkeys as much as I love Person of Interest, season 1 of 12 Monkeys is a slow burn and pays off, season 2 is where 12 Monkeys begins to be the show it's meant to be.).

There's too much TV these days (with so short an episode count) and people have less patience with TV shows.

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

Halt and Catch Fire (2014-2017) season 1, episode 9 //

Lessons in Chemistry (2023) episode 2