#squad shebs

[matchademi]

Alone, Failure, Ghost, and Midnight for Naga

Alone:He HATES being alone. He is a triplet he spent his training years with his batchmates. But during the first two years of the war, he was alone doing trips back and forth between the blockaids to deliver messages between the Marines and the rest of the GAR until he got injured and was forced to stay on Coruscant. But even long before that, he lost contact with his batch. He doesn't even see Fox, whom he actively tries to seek out. So he spends most days with his jedi and his ad'ika

Failure:he feels like he failed Fox, his Vod'ika he feels like if he tried a little harder, he could have helped Fox and the guard. He also feels like he failed his batchmates. If he was around more, he could have helped save Ponds, and he could have kept his batch from falling out of contact he is also TERRIFIED of losing his Cyar and his ad'ika

Ghost:"You are no longer my brother." Those words will haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life, his biggest fear coming to life. He never gets over it he will always hate himself for giving Fox reasons to utter the words

Midnight:his most common reason for staying awake is pain. His injury almost paralyzed him, but he still suffers from nerve damage. He also wakes up screaming from nightmares he usually gets up to check on his Cyar and ad'ika and after his relationship with his brothers gets better he calls his batchmates (its never feels right without Ponds) and in REALLY bad situations he calls Seventeen

@t3mpest98 THIS HELL SITE IS ANNOYING TIS DONE NOW

[kalevalakryze]

chess, literally dangling upside down, ankle wrapped in a wire, casually swinging above an entire battalion of battle droids: we’ve been trying to contact you about your starships extended warranty.

Buzz, just managing to yank her back onto the roof before the droids start firing: you are personally taking so many years off my life right now

[thatonefanficwriternooneknows]

Corrie Week Day 4: Accidental Child Acquisition

Wrote this in the last hour of work because I am a horrible horrible procrastinator :D

Please enjoy!

Group Chat: “Shebs Squad Lives (despite trying hard not to)”: Woof, Coat, Fly, Socks, Bonds, and Wrecks are active.

Socks: @Coat help me

Bonds: first time we’ve heard from Fox since deployment and it’s a cry for help

                This is normal

Wrecks: are you sure about that?

Bonds: that Fox needs help? Or that that’s the only way he’d voluntarily comm us after refusing to respond for months?

Woof: someone is bitter

Socks: @Coat! It’s Important!

                and urgent!

Fly: wow

                Exclamation marks

                That’s serious business

Coat: I’m kriffing BUSY @Socks!

Socks: trying to get in your Jedi’s Obi in not busy

                now how the kriff did you handle Rex as a cadet?

Wrecks: why are we talking about me?

Socks: it’s not ABOUT YOU!

                It’s about how KOTE HANDLED YOU

Bonds: oh

                my

                Force

                @Socks

                Did you obtain a CHILD??

Socks: kriff off Ponds

Woof: omf he totally did

                kriff

                how did Fox become a buir first?

                I had money on it being Ponds :/

Fly: you owe me so many drinks, vod

Woof: hate that for me

Coat: First of all

                I AM NOT

                Second of all

                I just winged it

                he turned out fine

Wrecks: to this day I am traumatized

Coat: you are the only Captain in the GAR with Commander responsibilities

                you turned out fine

                now

                I AM BUSY!

*Coat is now marked as AWAY.*

Socks: that did not help me

Bonds: I practically raised you lot

                I have some good advice

Woof: don’t lie to yourself, vod

                17 raised us

Bonds: lies and slander

Fly: no Wolffe is right

                17 raised us

                you just gave him the least amount of gray hair

Socks: whatever

                what do I do with this tiny fragile child?

Bonds: how tiny is tiny?

Socks: *has sent 3 holopics*

Fly: Fox

                vod

                why the kriff do you have a natborn tubie?

Socks: I DON’T KNOW!

                Someone left them at the front door to Corrie command!

Woof: seems like theyre better off with you than with someone who would leve them outside on CORUSCANT

Socks: I have never in my life wanted to be a buir

                this could have happened to literally ANY OTHER vod and they’d be ecstatic

                instead it goes to the one who ABSOLUTELY DIDN’T WANT THE RESPONSIBILITY OF ANOTHER LIFE

Wrecks: you are literally responsible for every Guard there is

Socks: those are fully grown soldiers who can take care of their damn selves

                this is a being that can literally do NOTHING on their own

                I don’t have time for this osik

                I’m busy doing actually important things and not trying to get into my Jedi’s pants

                *cough* @Coat

Bonds: the shade is real

                also

                I have no clue what to do with a tubie outside of their growth vat

                sorry vod

Fly: doesn’t Coruscant have foster? Adoption agencies? Something like that?

                you could literally just go hand them over

Socks: …

                you want me to leave my tubie WHERE?

Wrecks: ah

                there’s the shebs squad’s attachment problem

                genuinely thought that skipped Fox

Socks: I can’t just leave my tubie any which where BLY

                those services are dangerous and very corrupt

                what if they ended up in a worse place?!

Bonds: worse than the stoop of Corrie Guard Barracks?

                didn’t think that existed tbh

Socks: stku Ponds

                you don’t get to kark over my troopers just because yours can’t kriffing behave on leave

Bonds: BEHAVE???

                YOUR CORRIES ARREST THE GAR FOR THE STUPIDEST REASONS!

Woof: oop

                got Ponds big mad

Wrecks: been a while since that happened

Socks: the reasons are in the Welcome to Shore Leave datapad EVERY TROOPER HAS ACCESS TO

                not my Guards’ fault you GAR type can’t kriffing read

Bonds: GAR TYPE???

                VODE KRIFFING AN YOU SHEBS’PALON!

Socks: since kriffing when???

                as far as GAR troops are concerned, the Guard stopped being Vode as soon as they were deployed to Coruscant

                you can take your sanctimonious kark and shove it in your shebs

                I’ll get someone who actually kriffing likes me to help

*Socks has left Group Chat: “Shebs Squad Lives (despite trying hard not to)”*

Woof: well kriff

                that didn’t go well

Fly: good job Pondsie

                he finally got on and you made him leave

Wrecks: truly one for the books

Bonds: kriff you guys

                like you wouldn’t have done the same

Woof: actually I was more excited to see Fox reaching out that being big mad about my troops ending up in the slammer

                they know exactly what they did to get arrested

                I made them all read the Shore Leave datapad

                they just do it anyway

Wrecks: my trouble makers would make it a to do list so I confiscated all the copies

                but I did read it

                it’s very thorough

Fly: Aayla read it then gave me a tl;dr

Bonds: kriff

--

Fox holed himself up in his office as soon as he found the tubie. Away from the noise and nosiness of the rest of the Guard. (They can’t help it, they all live on top of each other, you can’t hide osik from anyone in Corrie HQ. Not that Fox was hiding the tubie.)

“Should we give them a name?” Thorn was kneeling on the floor and looking at the tubie in Fox’s laps with eyes bright enough to put a sun to shame. It’s been awhile since Fox has seen that look.

“I think we should just call them tubie until they can pick their own. That’s what all vode do. They shouldn’t be any different.” Thire added his two credits, smiling as the tubie gargled in his direction, a bubble of snot popping from their nose.

Adorable.

“Yeah, but they don’t have a number to call them by in the meantime. We can’t just call them tubie, that’s a general word.” Stone murmured, carefully leaning over Fox’s shoulder to get a closer look at the so very small tubie.

“Maybe we should give them a Use Name? There’s a lot of cultures that have them and then pick their own when they reach majority age, so thirteen in natborn years probably.” Hound kept Grizzer close by even as the massiff wagged their entire body in excitement.

“What could be use as a Use Name though? That feels a little too like Naming them and I don’t like that.” Thorn frowned, lightly trailing his fingers down the tubies little pudgy arm, smiling helplessly when they grabbed his hand and giggled.

“Obviously it should be a variation of Fox, he did find them.” Thire looked up to Fox with a smirk and if he wasn’t holding a tubie Fox would have actually punched them.

“There are no variations of Fox, unless you want to call them Faux with the properly pronunciation, but I don’t like that.”

“What about Sox? Senth, osk, xesh? That’s a spelling play on socks. I think it fits.” Stone carefully avoided Fox’s eyes, being the only one in the room that knew his batch chat user name. Not that it mattered anymore.

“Did Cody have any advice?”

“No. He was busy.”

“Oh…well you were typing a while…were the others helpful?” Oh Thire. Ever the optimist.

“No. They were mostly concerned that I ended up a buir first, or blaming me for their troopers getting arrested for breaking the rules on Coruscant.”

The entire room echoed the patented Corrie Stank Face™ because Fox had his entire command staff whipped into the proper shape of vod that he got along with.

Competent shebs’palon’e that they are.

“Well, at least we still have Vos.” Thorn sighed, still held captive by the little tubie.

“I don’t know if Vos should count as reliable information about the care of a natborn tubie, but he’s all we have at this point.” Fox looked down into warm brown eyes and smiled helplessly at how adorable his tubie was.

“Ooooh! His Use Name should be Plots! Because that’s what Fox is the best at!”

The room filled with laughter for the first time since Fox arrived to this horrid posting, he almost forgot what it sounded like. All thanks to his little Plots.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad, Plots.”

[wanderinginksplot-writes]

Clone Trooper Rambles

Part journaling exercise, part character study, part playing imaginary friends with clone troopers.

Warnings: Arguments, Fives giving off irritating little brother vibes, threats.

---

Commando

“Ahh, finally some representation!” Fi crowed, beaming at me.

Sev glanced over, frowning when he saw the shirt I was wearing. “What are you talking about, di’kut? That’s a white commando helmet. You and the rest of Omega wear that ridiculous black armor.”

“That armor has saved our shebs more times than we can count,” Niner told him.

“Yeah?” Scorch asked, eyes dancing. “How did it work out for you on that snow planet?”

“That isn’t the point,” Fi brushed off. “Point is, it’s clearly stylized. It’s supposed to be a negative image. Black armor on a white background.”

“Just like you on that snow planet,” Boss said casually. 

“So you agree the picture on her shirt is of us.” Darman hadn’t even been in the room last time I checked, but he was suddenly there and sounding victorious. 

I shook my head at the argument and kept working my way through the dirty dishes in the sink. And yet, my shoulders felt suddenly tight with tension when Fives walked in and made a disgusted noise in my direction. 

“Ugh, a commando helmet?” he asked, not bothering to disguise his disdain. “Why? Got bored representing the better half of the GAR?” 

“Better?” various commandos demanded. 

“Half?” I repeated. That seemed like a severe overstatement from what I knew about the GAR. 

“No offense,” Fives told everyone, giving his most offensive look around the room. “It’s just… well, you know. Commandos are bred that way. ARC troopers are the ones who distinguished themselves in battle. We earn our specialties.” 

“You wouldn’t last a day as a commando,” Sev snapped. 

Fives shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve heard you can die of boredom.” 

Sev snarled and Boss didn’t look particularly motivated to hold him back from the now-smirking Fives. 

Fixer stepped slightly in front of his squad-mate. It seemed like the only concession anyone was willing to offer. “Commandos get more training than any ARC. It’s different from the ground up. ARCs are standard troopers who happened to think fast enough not to be killed. Commandos are trained to think differently all of the time.” 

“We’re Kamino’s most advanced group of troopers,” Atin expanded for Fives. “You’re basically a standard trooper with a skirt and a chip on your shoulder.”

“Skirt?” Fives demanded, finally sounding less than thrilled. 

“Hey, a commando shirt,” Wrecker commented, coming inside from his most recent guard shift. He looked utterly bewildered by the way everyone turned on him, snarling. I gestured frantically for him to stop talking or just leave, but Wrecker was busy staring around the room and trying to figure out what had happened. 

“You got something to add about commandos?” Scorch asked, his smile a bit too sharp for my comfort.

Interestingly, Wrecker and the rest of the Bad Batch were kind of commandos, I mused. They had certainly gotten less intense training than the earlier squads like Delta and Omega, but technically…

“Nope, nothin’ at all,” Wrecker demurred, holding his hands up as he walked out of the room. 

Smart man. 

“I’m just saying,” Fives started, “this argument is pretty even with just me representing the ARCs. That’s a pretty clear sign in my favor.” 

“The only sign is that the ARC training program takes troopers who are a few screws short of a gunship,” Atin muttered loudly. 

Stomping footsteps from the front door sounded their slow, ponderous way into the kitchen. I glanced over in time to watch Alpha-17 round the corner. He seemed to pick up on the tension in the air, staring around the room with displeasure written across his scarred face. “Whatever osik you’re all going on about, keep it to yourselves. I don’t have enough patience to pretend to care.” 

The commandos dispersed, throwing dark looks and muttered complaints in Fives’ direction. For his part, Fives stood beaming at Alpha as he settled into a chair across the counter from where I was washing dishes. 

“Fives, what are you staring at?” Alpha demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Kark off. I’m tired of looking at you.” 

“Yes, sir, Captain,” Fives agreed immediately, rushing off. 

Alpha and I sat in silence for a long moment before I lifted a brow at him. “It’s like you could smell the trouble.” 

Alpha snorted, lifting his arm to show you the comlink attached to his vambrace. “Echo told me what was going on. Figured I’d put a stop to it before they got too wrapped up in themselves.” 

“Ah.” I thought about that as I set a dish on the drying rack. “You may have been a few minutes too late for that.” 

“Did anyone throw a punch?” he asked. When I shook my head, Alpha said, “Then I was on time. If it happens again, kick ‘em out of the house. I know you can do that. May as well use it now and then.” 

“At least it was a good distraction from the dishes,” I said mournfully, looking at the stack I still had yet to clean. 

Alpha gave me an exasperated look. “You have access to years of music and podcasts on that phone. That has to be more entertaining than trooper drama.” 

“Depends on the drama,” I countered, grinning as Alpha rolled his eyes.

---

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Author's Note - This was just a silly one as I worked on characterization for the different commando groups and how they would interact with the ARCs. But it makes me smile when I read it, so here you go!

[arcsimper5]

Star Wars Headcanons

Delta Squad:

*Sev and Scorch constantly get into physical squabbles, but that's all it is, a squabble. They spent enough time being pitched against each other in training by Walon Vau that they have no desire to physically harm each other. Instead, they end up having slap fights, hitting each others hands until one of them gets bored and simply pushes the other over, declaring victory.

*Fixer has the largest and most diverse porn collection anyone in the galaxy has ever seen. It's categorised to perfection, and hidden behind fifteen layers of encryption. He doesn't even watch it much, he just likes being able to give the exact title of whatever saucy film Scorch is talking about and watch the look of utter disbelief on his brother's face.

*Boss 100% wears cologne. He'll deny it until he's blue in the face, no-one knows where he got it or what it's called, but every time he takes his helmet off, a warm, spicy, woody scent manifests. Boss pleads ignorance.

Scorch is ridiculously good at dejarik. No-one knows how, but every time he's at a table, he kicks the shebs of anyone he's pitted against. The Deltas have used this to their advantage to get credits in tight spots before. If asked where he learnt to play, Scorch simply shrugs and says he 'picked it up'.

Sev suffers from chronic pain in his leg. It was caused in a training accident where he broke his leg and Vau pulled him out of bacta early to carry on training. It never fully healed, and it plays up in cold weather. The others know, and sometimes Boss will slow down their pace so Sev isn't pushed too hard, though none of them will ever admit it.

Scorch is the youngest of the group and they are super protective of him, though they'll never admit it. After his accident during training where he got his name, he almost didn't make it and was left with a lot of scarring.

They took turns applying bacta and redressing his wound, with Boss even telling Vau to leave them be while he recovered, which took a lot of guts.

Dividers by the amazing @stars-n-spice

[electrikworm]

Human Shield: Part 2

Hunter wasn't ready to lose a brother, not like this. But they're soldiers, so they have to finish the mission, with or without Wrecker.

Part 2 of my "how Wrecker got his scar" fic :)

--

Content warning: Temporary Character Death, Blood and Injury, a lot of talk about death

This took me so long! I kept getting distracted. Oops… Hope the angst makes up for the wait!

Inspired by this post by @squad-724

Part 1

Enjoy :)

Read on Ao3

Hunter's heart drops at Wrecker's answer.

He's always hated plan 99. Hunter's not a tubie, he knows that sacrifices are a big part of their lives as soldiers. Even they've heard plenty of stories of clones laying down their lives for the greater good. Clones are expendable, that's just how it is.

Hunter still didn't like giving the act of dying for the mission a name, doesn't like the way doing so has put the thought of self-sacrifice into his brothers heads so prominently.

“What?” Crosshair says. Hunter can hear the way his heart rate skyrockets.

“What do you mean 'plan 99'?” This can't be happening. It can't. Clones die every day, but Hunter's brother's don't. Wrecker can't seriously mean that.

“Self-sacrifice, remember?” Wrecker responds. Hunter knows he means it. Wrecker wouldn't call a plan unless he intended to execute it, wouldn't call plan 99 if he didn't deem it absolutely necessary.

“We know that Wrecker.” Tech says. Hunter glances at him. His eyes are wide behind his goggles.

“You're not dying today, vod.” Hunter says. Wrecker can't die today. “Get your shebs over here, and that's an order.”

Internally, Hunter begs his little brother to listen, to call off what he's planed, to suddenly see a better solution to the problem he's faced with. Instead, Wrecker laughs. The same genuine heartfelt laugh he's always had.

“Can't do that, sarge. Door won't close, and if it doesn't, the fire'll just funnel though the corridor and kill us all.” Wrecker's voice is strained but calm.

Hunter wants to tell Wrecker that he doesn't have to do this, that none of them have to die, that they'll find another way. But Hunter doesn't know that, does he?

“Wrecker.” Hunter says warningly, not sure exactly why. Hunter trusts his vode, trusts Wrecker, but this can't possibly be the only way.

“I can hold them closed.” Wrecker says with a sigh. Hunter shakes his head despite being aware that Wrecker can't see him. “It's what I'm made for.”

“Wrecker, don't!” Hunter shouts, finally regaining enough control of his body to try and run in Wrecker's direction.

Hunter doesn't get far before the whole building shakes. Even with the helmet, the noise is unbearably loud, almost bringing Hunter to his knees. Further down the corridor, the ceiling collapses.

Hunter feels sick, and not because of the way his head hurts. Wrecker's gone. His kih'vod is buried under that rubble, and Hunter could do nothing to stop it from happening. Hunter's vision blurs.

“Hunter we've got company.” Tech's voice wavers ever so slightly as he speaks. Now that Hunter's paying attention, he can hear the steady approach of droids. He can't think about Wrecker now, if he does, he risks wasting Wrecker's sacrifice.

Hunter readjusts the grip he has on his blaster, trying to push down the suffocating emptiness threatening to rise in his chest. Crosshair's still staring at the rubble down the hall. Hunter can see the way his shoulders shake.

“We have to keep moving Cross.” Hunter says, putting a hand on his youngest brother's arm. There's no denying how close the sniper is, was, with Wrecker, even if Crosshair likes to act like they aren't.

“We can't just leave.” He sounds despaired. Hunter wished he knew how to comfort his brother, but that's always been Wrecker's thing. They barely have the time to stand here now, Hunter hasn't got the time to figure out the right thing to say or do.

“We're behind enemy lines. We'll be overrun by droids if we don't.”

Crosshair's head snaps round to look at Hunter. He can feel how intense his gaze is, even through the visor. “We don't leave vode behind.”

“He's gone, Crosshair!” Hunter snaps. He shouldn't let his emotions run free on the battlefield, but he can't stop it this time. “And for nothing if we die here too.”

He grabs Crosshair's arm and starts dragging him. After a few steps, the youngest member of Clone Force 99 start walking on his own again.

As they engage in combat against the approaching droids, it's painfully apparent that they're missing a member. They hardly always fought in a group, but Hunter had planned for Wrecker to be here. His brain seems not to have caught up to the fact that he isn't, and won't ever be again. Hunter keeps trying to spot him, keeps listening out for his heartbeat and heavy breathing as he ploughs through their enemies.

The absence of those rests heavily on Hunter, like it intends to crush his chest. Every time he picks up on it, he's reminded of where his little brother really is.

But they can't stop, don't stop until they're out of enemy territory and back on the Marauder. Hunter has to fight to not let the gravity of the situation consume him as soon as there's a quiet moment.

He and Tech contact the general that gave them the mission, some Chagrian jedi Hunter had never seen before. Hunter can't help but feel some resentment towards the general, despite her not being involved in their brother's death.

As Tech informs the jedi of the data he retrieved, Hunter's barely able to focus. Crosshair didn't even get on the Marauder, still lingering outside.

“The agreed meeting point still stands.” The jedi says. “Can I expect you to arrive on time?”

“Affirmative.” Tech answers, not sounding entirely certain. Hunter wanders off to find Crosshair before Tech's hung up on the jedi.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asks as he comes to a standstill next to his kih'vod.

“We can't leave him Hunter.” Now that Crosshair's helmet is off, Hunter can see he's close to tears. The only thing keeping them from falling is likely the years of harsh training and preparation for a moment like this he's endured. The statement feels a lot like denial.

“Cross, you know he's-”

“I know he's dead, Hunter! You can stop repeating yourself.” Crosshair snaps, face pinched in anger before he turns to look away. “That doesn't mean we have to leave him there, where the seppies can get their filthy hands all over his body. Doesn't mean we need to leave him to rot under rubble in an enemy base.” Crosshair's voice falters more and more as he speaks.

“We'd have to fight our way back in.” Hunter doesn't want to leave Wrecker's body where it is any more than Crosshair, but it's a risk to go back for him.

“I don't give a motla'shebs! We took most of them out, there's just stragglers left.” Crosshair's visibly shaking again. “If you won't come with me, I'll do it alone.”

“If we go back to him, we will be late to the meeting.” Tech says as he descends from the Marauder.

Crosshair's eyes snap to stare at Tech. “Why the kriff would that matter now?”

“Oh no, I agree with you Crosshair. I was merely stating fact.”

With both his brothers advocating to go back, Hunter couldn't bring himself to do the reasonable thing. Not when he so badly wanted to see his little brother at least once more, and to lay him to rest with the respect he deserves. Though Hunter had to admit that he knew little in the ways of burial rites. Tech surely has some information tucked away somewhere, otherwise they'd improvise.

Hunter tries not to think about it too hard as they make their way back to where they firs entered the base. Hopefully there'd be less rubble on that side of the explosion.

There really isn't many droids left. Hunter feels awful for almost deciding against going back for Wrecker's body, just because it's what the rules dictate. They're experimental clone force 99, rules have always been little more than suggestions to them. Hunter doesn't know why he thought now would be the time to starts following them.

The devastation leading up to what used to be the generator room is substantial. The smell of fire and fuel is almost overwhelming. Hunter hopes death came quick and painlessly for their vod.

Hunter can smell the blood long before they get to where Wrecker's body must lie. The silence around the three brothers becomes heavy. Hunter knows they all dread what they'll find. There's no saying how much of their brother will still be recognizable.

Among the bits of twisted metal, Hunter is able to distinguish the remains of the door, dented and warped by the explosion. His eyes watch the glint of something reflective. Nausea twists Hunter's stomach as he recognizes it as a pool of blood, Wrecker's blood. But, that's when he hears it.

A heartbeat so weak, Hunter barely recognized it as such, and wheezed breathing. Hunter's own heart almost stops the second time that day.

“He's alive!” Hunter yells as he tries to find a way to get closer to their brother. First, he just sees an arm poking out from under the door, then Wrecker's head. What's left of the door is laying on top of the rest of their brother. Hunter starts trying to get the weight off of Wrecker.

Blood soaks into his gloves as Hunter drops to the floor next to his little brother. Wrecker may be alive, but barely. If they don't get him out now, it won't stay that way long.

Tech and Crosshair don't need to be told what to do, finding their place next to Hunter with practised efficiency. It isn't lost on Hunter that Wrecker could lift the debris with ease. Wrecker groans when the door is shifted off his chest, but remains unconscious.

“What do we do?” Crosshair's voice cracks. He sounds so lost.

“Stop the bleeding, no matter what.” Tech says, dropping to his knees next to their fallen brother. “We can worry about infection once he's no longer going into hypovolemic shock.”

Now that he's uncovered, Hunter can see the extent of the damage to Wrecker's body. Most of his left side is a torn and bloody mess. Hunter tries not to think about it too hard as helps his brothers pack Wrecker's injuries with bandages. His armor, even his helmet, is badly damaged. Wrecker's face is a particularly dire sight.

They do the best they can under the less than ideal circumstances. Hunter worries it might not be enough. Wrecker's dangerously pale and shivering as they drag him out of the base. With their effort combined, they can move him at a decent speed.

If they'd went after him faster, Wrecker wouldn't be this close to death. Hunter thought Wrecker was dead, so he made a decision based on that fact. But he'd made a mistake, left his kih'vod to bleed out under rubble.

Had Wrecker been conscious as first? Was he lying there in a pool of his own blood, in pain, just waiting for death, waiting for it to be over?

If they lose Wrecker now, it'll be Hunter's fault. He'll never be able to forgive himself.

Wrecker's still out when they put him down on the Marauder's floor, though he's writhing and struggling against them holding him still. Crosshair kneels on the floor, supporting Wrecker's upper body in his lap. Hunter helps his youngest body fix any slipped bandages and add more from the ships medkit as Tech gets the Marauder on the fastest route back to Kamino. Hunter can't help but notice that Tech's flying more careful than he usually does.

Seeing Crosshair hold Wrecker close, the large clone's head limply resting against the sniper's chest, Hunter's reminded of how the two of them had bickered that morning. Hunter hadn't caught all of the disagreement, but it boiled down to Crosshair saying he finds Wrecker's habit of hugging them childish and refusing to do so before the mission. Not a new argument by any means. Crosshair loves to act like he hates any affection coming from his vode.

Hunter wonder's if Crosshair's thinking about the disagreement now too. If Wrecker doesn't make it, that would been the last chance Crosshair had to hug him. Crosshair looks miserable as he keeps readjusting his arms around their dying brother.

“He'll be fine Cross.” Hunter says, barely believing the words himself. Knowing what to say has never been Hunter strong suite.

“You can't know that!” Crosshair hisses. “Look at him Hunter!”

Hunter doesn't say anything again. He takes Wrecker's hand in his. Even through his blacks, Wrecker feels ice cold, especially compared to how he usually runs hot.

“He needs blood.” Hunter can hear how slow Wrecker's heart is beating. The sound isn't comforting in the slightest.

“We've done direct blood transfusion before, what are we waiting for?” Crosshair says, stripping the armor off his arm. Hunter calls for Tech, not trusting himself with this. He knows the theory, but this isn't the moment to test if he's up to the task.

Crosshair makes sure to remind them all of Wrecker's dislike of needles, snapping at Tech to be careful more than once. Hunter can thankfully keep the two of them from starting an argument, reminding them in turn that there's little to no chance of Wrecker waking at the moment. Tech still takes care to firmly tape the the needle to Wrecker's arm once it's in.

None of them speak as they watch Crosshair's blood trickle through the tube connecting him to Wrecker. They almost have to fight Crosshair when Tech tells him he's given enough blood, the di'kut being willing to put his own health at risk to give Wrecker a better chance at survival.

It's not much blood, especially considering the difference in mass between the youngest of the squad, but Wrecker's heart sounds a little better, and his breathing is less erratic. Still, Wrecker's hardly out of the meteor field yet, blood loss being far from his only problem.

“What state is he in, Tech?” Hunter asks.

“Oh he's clearly doing great, can't you tell?” Crosshair snarks before Tech can even open his mouth. Hunter glares at Crosshair, but doesn't react verbally.

“It's hard to say.” Tech adjusts his goggles. There's so much blood smeared on his chest plate, though Hunter can smell that it's on all of them. Tech's white armor just allows it to be more visible. “He has numerous broken bones and his left eye and ear are beyond saving. The med scanner doesn't indicate bleeding in the brain or signs of organ failure, however, it is well documented that portable med scanners aren't always as precise as they should be.”

Frustration crosses Crosshair's face. “So what, that's it? He could be dying and we won't know until it happens?”

“Well, Hunter will be able to tell if Wrecker's heart stills, or he stops breathing. Other than that, yes.” Tech's answer doesn't make the situation feel any less tense. “Preventing further loss of body heat would be ideal. As would keeping him comfortable in general. Though that is less in favour of increasing his chance of survival, and rather to make the situation as peaceful as possible, if he does pass before we make it to Typoca City.” Tech's voice almost gives out towards the end of his statement.

Hunter's chest aches as he squeezes his little brother's hand. Wrecker has to make it. They can't lose him, not like this, not because Hunter made a stupid decision.

They hardly talk the rest of the time, focusing on keeping Wrecker warm and calm. Hunter barely dares to breath too loud, scared he'll miss a change in Wrecker's condition.

It's chaos when they land on Kamino. Crosshair and Tech yell for a medic as Hunter still doesn't dare to do anything more than listen to Wrecker's heart and wheezed breath.

As they watch Wrecker's limp form being transported off on a stretcher, none of the three brother's dare to say a thing. Hunter wouldn't be surprised if his kih'vode are wondering if this is the last they'll see of Wrecker too. They likely won't get an answer to that for hours.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Hunter trudges his way to their barrack. There, all three of them collapse next to each other, incapable of doing anything but cling to one another as the await news of their brother's fate.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello!!! Saw your post about a prompt? Hehe, I came across this one:

"I hate to say I told you so..."

"Like hell you do; it's your favorite phrase."

Sounds like a Crosshair one to me.

i love this prompt, thank you!! this fic did get a little out of hand, but honestly i love it 😂

words: 1,239

summary: On a night out, you challenge crosshair to some friendly sparring. things don't always stay friendly between you, and you're not complaining one bit.

clone troopers masterlist

A Test of Strength

“I bet I could beat you in hand-to-hand combat,” your voice sounded a little bolder than it usually did, and maybe that was because of the glass of Corellian wine you were almost finished with. The booth at 79’s was empty except for you and Crosshair, and so far, you’d been enjoying an evening of drinking, laughter, and watching Tech attempt to dance without hitting someone in the face. 

He raised his eyebrows at you in response as he took another sip of his drink. “Is that a challenge, dear mechanic?” 

“Maybe it is, trooper.” 

Decidedly, you were a little bit out of your depth here. Although you had undergone some training when you entered the GAR, it was nowhere near the level to which Crosshair had been trained. The one thing you did have to your advantage was the fact that you were the slightest bit force-sensitive, something you’ve spoken to General Kenobi and Master Yoda about but hadn’t yet broached with your squad. You weren’t sure if you would be able to stay with Clone Force 99, and you rather liked being their mechanic (and no, it had nothing to do with the fact that you had a crush on the grumpy sniper sitting in front of you). 

“Why do you think you could beat me?” he asked, his tone playful. This was the version of Crosshair that you liked the most, not the stoic man who went on missions with the rest of the squad. 

“I don’t think you’ve had as much experience fighting as the others” you said thoughtfully. “Even Tech gets more up close and personal with droids during missions. I think we might be more evenly matched than you think.”

“I think those are bold words,” he said lowly. His face was so close to you that he might as well have been whispering in your ear at this point. “But I’d be willing to test your hypothesis. That is, if you’re up for a challenge.” 

Sober you probably would have retracted your statement by now, but that didn’t happen this time. “Fine,” you said, downing the rest of your drink and getting out a few credits to pay the droid the next time it passed by. “You know of a good place to spar?” 

Crosshair laughed. “I do, don’t worry about that.” And without telling the rest of the batch where you were headed, the two of you left the bar. 

The GAR barracks were simple and understated, but the Coruscant base that the clones used when they were on leave had a top-of-the-line training facility and gym. The padded walls and floors of the sparring room were something of a comfort to you, because if you did get knocked on your shebs, maybe it wouldn’t hurt that badly. 

You had been wearing comfortable clothes, and once you put your bag down, Crosshair was ready to go. He lunged at you, but you artfully dodged his jab, grabbing his arm and pulling to the side, the momentum sending him in a different direction. “You’re stronger than you look, doll.” 

“I think you just underestimated me.” You liked this version of yourself, she was cool and maybe you’d have to figure out how to keep her around after the alcohol wore off. 

“Really?” You weren’t quick enough this time, and he almost tripped you. Stumbling, you tried to keep your composure. 

But maybe you should have kept your mouth shut, because you weren’t able to dodge his latest jab, and suddenly your back was up against his chest. His arms trapping you against his body, the fact that Crosshair’s face was inches away from your neck was something you were trying very hard to ignore. Maker, did you want to turn around and kiss him right now. 

“You know, I hate to say I told you so…” he drawled softly, and you could hear the playful smile on his face. 

“Like hells you do, it’s your favorite phrase,” you responded, the joking edge to your voice apparent. You had an idea, but you needed to keep him talking for a few more moments in order for it to work. “You know, we never decided what the winner gets out of this whole thing.” 

“So you admit that I won?” 

“Of course.” That sentence couldn’t have been more of a lie, but you needed to keep his eyes on you so he didn’t notice the way you were moving your leg back towards his. 

A smirk crossed his face right as you struck, twisting around and pushing as you tripped him, and you somehow managed to get him off his balance. A few quick maneuvers and you would have him pinned just like he had you, but Crosshair clearly wasn’t going to go down without a fight. 

For a few moments, the two of you were perfect equals. Every hit you landed, he got one right back. Every time you dodged, he did too. There was something exhilarating about the way that you seemed to be dancing with each other. 

Until he managed to pin you against the wall. 

You were slightly out of breath at this point, and you could see his chest heaving up and down as he breathed. “Do you admit defeat?” he asked. 

You decided to challenge him a bit, desperately attempting to ignore the way his lips moved when he spoke (and how close they were to you). “I don’t think I’ve won yet.”

“Really? So the fact that I have you pinned against the wall means nothing?” 

“Maybe that’s exactly what I wanted to happen.” 

But instead of firing back with more snark, something must have finally snapped in Crosshair’s brain, because he leaned in and kissed you. His hands found their way to your waist as you kissed back, your lips exploring his as you hoped with everything you had that this was actually happening and not just an amazing dream. 

You pulled away first, but he didn’t want to accept it. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do that for?” he asked breathlessly before recapturing your lips with his own. 

“I could say the same thing,” you responded between his hungry kisses. 

His grip on your waist was somehow both soft and demanding, and your mind was floating in a galaxy far away from this one. For a few fleeting moments, nothing could have possibly ruined the moment between you. 

Until the door to the training room swung open, and the rest of the Bad Batch stepped inside. 

“Go away,” Crosshair’s voice was practically a growl as he detached himself from your lips. “We’re busy.” 

“Yeah,” Echo said, eyebrows raised as he stared at the two of you. “We can see that.” 

“We realized you were missing from 79’s and tracked your comms here,” Tech said, butting in before Crosshair could fire back at Echo. 

“That’s nice,” Crosshair said, and you had to stifle a laugh at the way he so desperately wanted all of them to leave.

Thankfully, Hunter seemed to catch on, and for once didn’t offer any teasing remarks (you suspected that you’d be victims to those later). He herded the rest of the squad out of the room and gave you two a knowing look before closing the door, and finally, you were alone again. 

“Now,” you said, leaning in to place your lips on his once more. “Where were we?” 

- the end -

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Season 3: Episode 9 Spoiler

.

.

There are a lot of amazing things about this episode. First off, VENTRESS showing up, and also helping Omega!

I felt bad about the squad getting their shebs kicked by her...but it was also kind of cool!!!

And sorry, but Crosshair holding out his hand to help Omega and then Ventress onto the Marauder has ruined me 😭😭😭

I luv him

[myoongiverse16]

Crosshair x Jedi Reader One-shot

Summary: Crosshair keeps mentioning how clones are expendable. You snap and the rest of the batch urges Crosshair to finally confess how he feels about you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Warnings: Kissing, Crosshair being a shebs' oglon😂, and a smidge of suggestiveness at the end, if you squint.

Key for Mando’a words: Di'kut: idiot, shebs' oglon: a**hole, dank farrik: dang it, meg te haran: what the hell.

With Crosshair back in the squad, things have been……peculiar between the two of you. He was quite the brute and rude sniper when he first met you, and after everything he’s been through, you didn’t know how he currently felt about you.

I mean, sure, you had feelings for the snarky sniper man. But those feelings had to be pushed away when he left, to focus more on protecting the rest of the crew. Not that you forgot about him for a second. With him back, you didn’t know how you felt. 

Normally, he was usually a decent human-being towards you. Sure, you weren’t the closest, but you had a few exchanges, and you swear you caught him staring at you curiously a few times before all this Empire stuff happened. 

But, these past few days were filled with overly snarky comments, even for him. They dealt with pretty touchy subjects in your life that you had never mentioned to the batch previously because they were about painful experiences. 

For example, the other day Crosshair mentioned how the Jedi never cared about clone troopers and that they were just expendable to them. 

This got on your nerves because you believed in the exact opposite. The clones were your dearest friends and you had tried your best to treat them all as individuals. But, Crosshair didn’t know that, so you kept your mouth shut and ignored him.

This went on for some time. Crosshair would say something and you tried your best to ignore him, so far it had worked out.

One day, you just snapped.

Hunter decided a break was greatly needed. The Batch had been on mission after mission with no rest in between. Though you wanted to continue with missions, your body simply couldn’t comply. You agreed with Hunter, and a few hours later Tech landed the Marauder on a nearby forest planet. 

Wrecker was playing with Omega and Gonky. Echo was taking a well deserved nap. Tech was on his data pad, as usual. And Hunter was sharpening his knife while watching Omega and Wrecker with a smile.

All seemed well.

Well, not really, because Crosshair decided he wanted to die today. He brought up how clones were expendable, again.

“We’re just a bunch of numbers to everyone!” Crosshair shouted, you scrunched your nose in frustration.

“No, you’re not! You were to the Empire, but not to the Jedi!” Crosshair scoffed.

“Oh, so you speak for the whole Jedi order, then? Huh?” You gulped.

“Well, no. But I never saw you that way!” Crosshair folded his arms.

“Why? What’s so special about you that made you feel so bad for us? Do you pity us?” Your eyes widened.

“Of course not! I-I” You sighed. “I just relate to you I guess..” You said quieter. 

“Relate to us? You don’t know us-“ 

“I get it, I don't know you! Okay! I get it! You don’t have to keep saying that!” You fumed then stalked out of the ship. You ran past a curious Tech, a groggy Echo who was obviously annoyed, a concerned Hunter and a confused Omega and Wrecker. 

You ran out to what looked like a grove of trees. You continued to run until you found a small opening that revealed a little stream. You sat down beside it and slumped. 

Stupid Crosshair, what does he know? You sighed. It’s not his fault, you thought. It’s not like I’ve told him anyway.

Back at the Marauder.

Crosshair looked down and frowned. Di'kut, he thought to himself. He ran a hand through his silver hair and sighed. 

Someone cleared their throat. Crosshair turned to see the rest of the batch in the hall. He pursed his lips. Hunter raised a brow. 

“You know you messed up, right?” Hunter commented. 

“Well, by analyzing his heavy sighing, brooding, and self loathing, yes, yes he does know.” Tech stated matter of factly as he pushed his goggles up his nose. Crosshair frowned. 

“What does loathing mean?” Omega asked. Hunter glared at Tech. Echo facepalmed. “And what’s up with Crosshair? Why does he argue with her so much?” Omega tilted her head curiously. Crosshair just rolled his eyes. Hunter huffed and turned to the others silently asking, care to answer? 

Wrecker shrugged, Echo gave a look that said don’t look at me. Tech sighed and pushed his goggles up his nose again. 

“It’s quite obvious. Crosshair likes her.” Crosshair’s eyes widened and he ran a hand down his face.

“Is it really that obvious?” He crossed his arms and raised a brow at the crew. Everyone nodded their heads. Except Omega, she just shrugged her shoulders. Crosshair breathed a laugh. 

“Well, what do you think I should do?” He asked almost teasingly. Wrecker’s hand immediately shot up. The rest of the batch rolled their eyes.

“Ooh! Ooh! Me! Me! Pick me!” He shouted jumping up and down. Crosshair sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, Wrecker?” He pointed to him tiredly. Wrecker beamed.

“You should confess to her!” Wrecker yelled cheerfully. Omega beamed finally understanding.

“Yes! You should Crosshair!” Omega agreed, jumping happily. Wrecker picked her up and spun her around. 

“See, she gets it!” Wrecker shouted happily. Omega giggled. He put her down and ruffled her hair. Hunter chuckled at their exchange then turned to Crosshair. 

“So,” he folded his arms and raised a brow playfully. “You gonna take their advice?” Crosshair looked at him. He sighed and huffed. He rolled his eyes and looked down. Should I? He cleared his throat. 

“Fine,” he stated. Then stood straight and walked past them. Tech looked up from his data pad. 

“Wait, he’s actually going to do it?” Hunter nodded his head surprised as they watched Crosshair leave the ship. 

“Well, it’s about time,” Echo stated. Omega and Wrecker shouted happily as they started to dance around the ship. The rest of the batch laughed.

Crosshair walked out of the ship mumbling to himself. Today of all days, he thought. He wanted to confess to you sometime when he didn’t act like a total shebs' oglon. He continued to walk and found the clearing.

He spotted you just standing there, staring into a stream. Crosshair didn’t move, he mentally sighed. Gosh, what am I doing? 

“You know, I love the clones,” you said all of a sudden. Crap, she knows I’m here. Crosshair then remembered. Oh, I forgot. She’s a Jedi, she can sense people. 

“Even after Order 66, I still do,” You continued. Crosshair listened intently.

“I’ve spent countless, countless nights lying awake during the Clone War. Crying, wishing I could’ve saved so many of them. I mourned for every soldier I fought with.” You laughed sadly. “That actually goes against the Jedi Code. No attachments. But I did it anyway.” Crosshair’s eyes widened.

“I made it a priority to know each member of my battalion individually. I never wanted to know their numbers, I wanted to know what they wanted to be called. I wanted to know their names, so that for once, they could feel like a person. Not a clone, not a soldier, a person.” You finally turned to Crosshair, tears in your eyes.

“I loved them. So, I don’t care how expendable you think you are,” you paused. “Because you were never, never expendable to me.” You pointed to yourself. Crosshair's face turned to sorrow. Gosh, I did this to her. 

“I-“ Crosshair choked on his words. You frowned and turned away.

“You know why I say I relate to the clones?” You turned back to Crosshair. He looked at you and silently nodded his head. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this-“ Crosshair walked up to you and gently grabbed your right hand with his left. 

“Please, I want to know. I want to know everything,” he looked down at your hand and softly rubbed his thumb along the back of it. You swallowed. 

“Okay.” Crosshair looked up at you and gave a small smile. You gave a grateful smile back.

“I never knew where I came from, I was just told I was found in a raided village. I was the only survivor,” You breathed. “The Jedi took me in, raised me….” You looked down with a frown. 

“I can’t help but think, if I wasn’t taken in by the Jedi, would I have still been one? What if a Sith found me, would I have become a Sith? Would I have been a bounty hunter? Or join the Senate? I never really had a choice. I was kind of born into it.” You looked up at Crosshair.

“That’s why I say I relate to you guys. Clones, I mean. You never had a choice, though you’re treated much harsher, I can’t help but connect with you.” Crosshair nodded his head. 

“That makes sense,” he used his right hand to grab your left. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” You looked at him and smiled gratefully.

“You don’t have to be. I just wanted you to know.”

Crosshair nodded his head and smiled a little. 

“I understand,” he swallowed then pulled away from you. He turned around and hugged himself.

“I just saw another Jedi trying to take pity on us clones, and I got angry at you, I lashed out on you and that wasn’t right,” Crosshair sighed then turned back to you, he looked down at the ground. 

“It’s just been hard. You know? Ever since the Empire stuff, I don’t really know who I am. Was it the chip? Was it me? Why did I feel obligated to serve the Empire even though they never gave me a reason to want to?” You nodded your head.

“I get it. But, I don’t think it was your fault. You’re a good man, Crosshair.” You placed a gentle hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. Crosshair blushed. You retracted your hand away awkwardly.

“Errr, sorry.” Crosshair shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” You backed away. 

“I just feel the same. I devoted my whole life to being a Jedi. Now that the Jedi order is gone, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who I should be.” Crosshair took a step forward. 

“Who do you want to be?” You looked at him, then contemplated. You smiled a little. 

“I want to be….good. I want to help people. Helping people gives me a sense of joy. I want to give that same joy to other people.” Crosshair gave a faint smile. You grinned. 

“Who do you want to be?” Crosshair breathed a laugh. 

“I want to be…. a good brother. I want to make up for all the times I treated them like bantha crap.” You giggled. 

“I’m serious,” Crosshair said with a smirk. Here goes my lame attempt at flirting. Now or never. 

“I also want to be better to you too.” You looked down and blushed. What?! 

“You already are a good brother. A great brother even. I see the way you help them. They don’t say it very often but I know for a fact that they love you very much. They never forgot about you when you left. You never left their mind for a second.” Crosshair hummed to himself. 

“Not really Omega though.” You gasped.

“What? Definitely Omega, though she didn’t know you very well, she talked about you constantly and how she believed the real you was in there somewhere.” Crosshair smiled to himself.

“She thinks you’re an amazing brother.” Crosshair smirked. Let’s take it a little further shall we? 

“And what about you?” Crosshair walked forward until he stood right in front of you. “Do you think I’m a good brother?” You gulped and looked down.

“Well….” You tucked a hair behind your ear. Dank Farrik. Crosshair chuckled. “I don’t really see you as a brother..” Crosshair leaned his face closer to yours. 

“Oh really?” Crosshair lifted Y/N’s chin so that she would look at him. This is actually working out better than I thought it would. She’s so cute when she’s flustered. 

“What do you see me as then, hmmm?” You let out a shaky breath.

“I-I” Crosshair leaned even closer, his nose brushing against yours. Oh my gosh! What is he doing?!

“C’mon, say it. What am I to you? A friend?” You looked at Crosshair. Well, meg te haran. 

“No…..” you whispered. “I see you as more than that.” Crosshair smirked. 

“Right answer.” Crosshair leaned in and placed a firm kiss on you lips. You let out a small gasp, then kissed back. Crosshair groaned and leaned back, placing a softer kiss.

Wait, is this actually happening? You thought to yourself as you felt Crosshair’s lips on yours. Am I dreaming? 

You responded with a hum of contentment and slipped your hands over his chest. Crosshair smirked and deepened the kiss as he tilted his head.

Nope, definitely not dreaming. You thought as Crosshair placed his hands on the sides of her face. He held your face then moved his hands down to hold your neck gently. You hummed again and smiled.

Crosshair slowly moved his hands down to your shoulders, down your arms until he held your waist. You smiled as Crosshair continued to kiss you with passion. You moved your arms up to Crosshair’s neck and ran your hands through his short, silver hair.

What is this girl doing to me? He moaned and gripped your waist tighter. 

After a while, Crosshair leaned back to catch his breath. You took deep breaths. He smirked and held your cheek. He rubbed his thumb along it, you looked at him with half lidded eyes. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re going to make me want to do something I’ll regret.” You smirked and leaned forward. You whispered in his ear.

“I know I won’t regret it.” Crosshair chuckled darkly and leaned in again. 

[snorkin-sporks]

Soggy little fic part 2

Axe Woves is tired of being told what to do. [chapter 2]

The incessant noise of his alarm startled Axe awake. Shooting upright, he smashed the top of his head against the bunk above his, waking Ragnar in the process.

“Axe? What's going on?” his tiny voice slurred with the remnants of sleep, making Axe feel even more guilty for waking him.

“Just another mission buddy, you can go back to sleep. I'll comm Koska to keep an eye on you.”  Koska had generously volunteered for Ragnar-watching duty, desperate to beat Bo-Katan in the race to become ‘kaysh nuhur ba’vodu’. Well, according to her.

Ragnar let out a heavy sigh, clearly not pleased with this development. Axe knew that this was the time for bribes.

“Okay Ragnar. What if I told you Djarin and his weird green kid are coming-” Ragnar practically squealed at that.

“-And… Djarin’s aliit will be here too. Fett is helping Grogu and wants to see if any of the new foundlings need training too, and I bet he would let you shoot something. So behave for your ba’vodu I’ll see if you can go.” 

The kid nodded enthusiastically. It was settled. Ragnar would behave, and Axe would take him somewhere more interesting than the training grounds.

After satiating Ragnar, Axe made his way to the kitchen, a cold pot of caff waiting for him. He sat down on the uncomfortable chair, careful not to dump the re-heated goodness residing in his travel mug, and commed Koska.

“-Ori’Vod! Me’vaar ti gar?” oh boy. Koska had a kriff ton of energy this morning. 

“Could you keep an eye on Ragnar for me? I’ve got job duty, reconnaissance in the base ruins.” the Imperial base that Axe had crashed the Nite Owls lead ship into only weeks earlier. Bo-Katan was still pissed about that.

“-didn't Bo’ika ban you from further mission until you were cleared by the baar’ru?” Well kark. Axe was banned, and for good reason. Reasons Koska wasn't exactly privy to…

“No need to be mir’sheb, can you watch him or not?” Axe sighed internally. He loved Koska, he really did (she was his kih’vod after all), but ka’ra was she infuriating sometimes. 

“-if it means beating Bo’s shebs then kriff yeah. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t let Bo catch you leaving Sundari though, she’ll have your hide.”

The audio cut out as Axe ended the call, Koska was right, if his Ori’Vod heard he was on a mission she’d put him on house arrest or something, Axe would never hear the end of it.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Axe and the other Mando’ade were deep in the remnants of the base, they trudged on, Ruusaan (a Child of The Watch) was leading, but that didn't stop the other Nite Owls from looking to Axe for commands. 

Sweeping through the crumbling hallways, Axe stumbled, losing his balance almost completely. Catching himself on the wall, Axe took a moment to breathe, trying to ease the relentlessly pounding dizziness. 

“Duraani, burc’ya?” one mando’ad - a covert dweller - said sharply, Axe realised that he’d been staring. He looked away, shaking his head. He could barely see over the grey fogging his vision.

  “Nah, Sorry mate.” his voice shook. Axe took one more second to cling desperately to the wall before walking on, his vison was static around the edges and his ears still rung but he kept going. He had to push through, no good ever came from being weak. 

Axe struggled as the squad continued through the ruined base. He knew Bo-katan wanted him on light duty, and he’d tried to comply, but kark had he missed this. 

Axe knew it was a horrible idea to jump straight into scouting the rough areas of the base, he knew Bo had good reason to keep him away, he knew he’d pay for it later. But that was exactly that, later. Might as well have some fun while he wasn't wearing an ankle monitor and surrounded by a medic team for the rest of his life.

[questforgalas]

The 501st and their love languages

Captain Rex

Acts of service

his life is dedicated to keeping his men and his Jedi alive through selflessness and sacrifice

that selflessness bleeds into his every day life

friends, family, or lovers, he's always looking to see what he can do to make lives easier

sometimes he'll take on extra reports so Anakin can get to Padme sooner

he's always ready to let Ahsoka use him as a training partner, helping her perfect her form or blaster aim

the number of times he's covered for his brothers is infinite

(Fives and Hardcase have their own piles in the "times Rex saved his brothers' shebs" records)

(remember when he was literally willing to be COURT MARTIALED for Fives and Jesse????)

in a relationship, he'll notice what's stressing you and will identify what will reduce that stress

whether it's helping with the task(s) itself or doing side things for you so you don't have to think about them, it's an automatic instinct for him

Fives

Receiving/giving gifts

it's very important to Fives to be recognized as a citizen, not just a soldier

and since the clones aren't paid, he finds ways to gather credits when he can

you'd think he'd spend them on gambling or at 79's for a good time

but he's actually spending it in the ports on planets during down time or in the markets on Coruscant when he's on leave

nearly every member of the 501st, shiny or not, has a token from Fives

it's important to him to show his gratitude and love through an act that all citizens get to do

he'd appreciate the gesture back ten fold

it doesn't have to be anything fancy

and anything he can wear under his armor like a trinket he'll adore the most

Hardcase

Physical touch

he's hyperactive and can barely sit still for more than 10 minutes

like he told Fives, there was a leak in his growth acceleration chamber

part of his constant energy is gently touching those he trusts

he doesn't even realize he's doing it

but soft taps on his brothers shoulders, gentle pats on their backs as he approaches, a quick fist bump with Ahsoka after a mission

and ooooooooo does he melt when it's reciprocated

congratulatory pats on his back, a brotherly arm slung around his shoulders at 79's, or even when Echo gets him in a headlock knuckling his head

he's all for it

with you, it's guaranteed he'll have a hand on you at all times

if you're enjoying down time, be prepared to be locked in his arms, cuddled on his lap for the entirety of the activity

Kix

Quality time

Since Kix is a medic, he doesn't get the rest time after a mission like most of his brothers

he has to be in the healing tents, tending to his brothers, making sure those that can live will

so he's used to busy time

but he uses it as time to be with his brothers

sure, would he rather them not be shot to get there? of course. but the time spent with them while they heal is something Kix relishes in

he never gets one-on-one time with them otherwise

he also appreciates the small signs of healing as his brothers gain their sense of humor back or engage in more conversation with him

to him, this time with them means they're alive

this translates when in a relationship as well

even if its sitting in the common areas, quietly filling out reports together, he relishes in having time with you

the soft tap of your finger or your gentle hums in thought are his favorite soundtrack

Jesse

Words of affirmation

'the only time clones heard any form of praise on Kamino was when it came from their brothers

the Kaminoans were distant, and the bounty hunters weren't doling out compliments

Jesse made it a point to acknowledge his brothers' accomplishments no matter how small

he'd compliment every squad member walking off the training simulator as they walked by him and his squad waiting their turn

if he saw a brother improve on their melee skills he knew they were working on, he's the first one to acknowledge their hard work

After Umbara this is DOUBLED

it seems like he doesn't let a brother go a day without them knowing how much he appreciates them

is you want to see Jesse melt, tell him you're proud of him

Rex has seen this a plethora of time being a Captain who makes sure his troops' hard work is recognized

want to see his knees buckle? look him in the eye and tell him you love him

man is down before you even know it

[headphones-ct-09978]

Simulation (Gregor X OC) one shot

Gregor X OC One shot

Warnings: Some cussing

Summery: Zi (or Zaria) finally passed her trials and basic training with the rest of the clone commandos. But the higher ups want to see her skills in action, to see if she can handle the pressure like the rest of her comrades. She was created for one thing yet put to use and trained for another, surely that would mean a bad fall out, right?

Note: I know, my Mando'a suuuucks 😭 I'm still learning it for my writing's sake. But one tiny detail, I based my character's use of language on the fact that I speak Spanglish in my home. So if some words in Mando'a are mashed up with basic or she switches from either language mid sentence, that's intentional. 😅 (I'll bolden the Mando'a)

"Son of a mud scuffer!!" I cursed as I tried to fix the scope on my rifle. The whole morning things had been going wrong. First off, the caf in the mess hall was absolute garbage at breakfast. If that didn't put me in a foul mood, the sleepless night contributed greatly to it. Aran Ta, the Kaminoan genetic specialist who had a key part in my creation, had come to the barracks that evening to tell me about the training simulation I was to attend. If I was completely honest, I only thought I was being trained just as an experiment to see I'm good enough to be a soldier, or at the very least, keep me busy. But as it turns out, the Mandalorians who were training us had noticed my progress. They call it progress, I called it "learning to not get my shebs whooped by everyone else".

But according to Aran Ta, I was to participate in the simulation test the following morning. The news hit me like a tidal wave filled with anxiety and panic. An osik ton of panic. "You have nothing to worry about, I'm sure you'll perform well." the Kaminoan had said as he placed his cold hand on my shoulder. I just nodded, trying my damnedest to keep my emotions in check.

The morning finally arrived and I awoke to heavy rain pelting the window on the east side of the barracks. Thunder, lighting, large waves, a perfect, physical manifestation of my inner turmoil. As I sat on my bunk, messing with my scope, Gregor walked in, holding his helmet, a smile on his face. I swore to the stars, nothing can dampen this guy's spirit. He saw and made his way over to where I was. "Ey! What'cha got there, Zi?" he said as he sat himself next to me, our armor clanking together as he scooched me over so he could sit down. I held up the scope in my fist and shook it in frustration. "The damn thing won't stay on! I keep attaching it and it keeps. Falling. OFF!!" I was about to chuck the damn scope at the blindingly white wall in front of me when Gregor caught my wrist, his reflexes somehow faster than my impulses. "Hey, hey, hey, whoa. Udessi, Zaria." He carefully took the scope from my hand, or rather, pried it out. When he did, he immediately noticed my shaking hands. "Well that's not caffeine induced, is it?" He took my hand in his, holding it firmly. "You're nervous about the simulation, aren't you."

I blinked, surprised he knew. "How-"

"I'm the captain! Of course I know these things!" he laughed. "I sort of have to so I know who I'm looking out for." he said as he ruffled my short black hair. For the first time that morning, I chuckled. "Okay," he took my rifle and placed it on his lap as he held the scope. "I see what the issue is." I watched as he expertly fixed something on the attachment and just like that, he put the scope back on without issue. And it stayed put! Gregor handed me my rifle as the intercom in the barracks crackled to life and Gregor's squad and I were called to the training arena. We exchanged looks and I guess my face gave away my gut wrenching anxiety, because he cupped my face in his hands. "You'll be fine. Just follow my orders like you do in all the other drills, and you'll surprise everyone. We both know what you're capable of." I nodded, feeling my heart rate calm down. "Vor'e, Alor'ad."

Gregor smiled and patted my shoulder. "Ready to go show em how bad ass you are?" he said as he put on his helmet. I slipped mine on and nodded. "More than ready!"

"Oh...Kriff...." I groaned, starting to feel overwhelmed. Standing with the squad, my small stature was painfully apparent, my black armor standing out against their white and yellow armor. A hiccup escaped me as I looked at the course we had to run. One of my comrades gave me a little nudge. "You good, short stuff? You look like you've seen a ghost." he remarked, his voice teasing. I gulped. "I did. I saw mine leave my body 3 seconds ago." A few of the others chuckled at my comment. Suddenly, the arena lights dimmed and simulation started. "Dank Fari-"

I ducked as blaster fire whizzed over my head. "Fuck!!" I cursed as I dove for cover behind one of the barriers, landing beside Darek, who was firing at the battle droid heading our way. "Glad to see you made it, butterfly!!" he shouted over the commotion as I got into position and aimed my rifle at the second droid that was closing in on our left. I peered through the scope Gregor had been gracious enough to fix, keeping the crosshair steadily aimed at my target. 'Patience......patiiiiiiience...' I reminded myself as I aimed before pulling the trigger. When I did, my shot took out two targets and I punched the air in triumph. "Let's fucking go!!!!!" I laughed in victory before hearing Gregor on my comm give me another position to fire from. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and ran for the position, dodging blaster fire and hopping over obstacles, and firing back when I had to. I could hear the squad cheering for me as I made it to the position and started taking out more droids. If it's one thing I did have, it was speed and accuracy (at least that's what Gregor told me).

As the trial went on, I began to feel more at ease in the chaos, somehow feeling a bit at home among the din of blaster fire. Sort of. After a while, the blaster fire and commands morphed into a painful ringing in my ears and I fell to my knees. I threw off my helmet and clutched my ears, gritting my teeth as the ringing intensified. But my reaction went unnoticed as the simulation drew to a close as Feral took the main target successfully, earning triumphant cheers and whoops from the squad. I was startled out of my state of discomfort when a hand clapped me on the shoulder. I jumped to my feet, in turn startling the person who was trying to get my attention. Gadget stepped back with a chuckle. "Easy there, spitfire. I was just coming over to let you know that you've been called over. You weren't responding to your comm, so I came over." he looked down at my helmet, crouched down and picked it up for me. "Got your helmet knocked off, ey?" he brushed it off and handed it to me. "There ya go."

"Thanks," I said as the ringing in my ears finally quieted. 'That better not be a constant issue.' I prayed.

As I rejoined the others, our drill Sargent was giving the squad a speech, which I caught the last bit of.

"...and you, men, are to be sent on your first mission to fight for the Republic. Show the enemy that you are a force to be reckoned with!"

When I walked over, the Mandalorian man turned to me and snapped his fingers and beckoned to me. "You, small one, come over here for a minute."

I slipped off my helmet and tucked it under my arm, my grip on my rifle tightening with nerves. When I was close enough, I stoop at attention, puffing out my chest a little. But he waved his hand. "At ease, soldier." There was a pause as he leaned against the dark gray arena wall, his dark, scuffed maroon armor standing out against the dark behind him. He crossed his arms across his chest, eyeing me from behind his helmet. "So you're the one the Kaminoans speak highly of."

I didn't respond, remaining quiet. He noticed and I heard him snort. "Are you mute, girl? You may speak freely."

"Thank you, sir." I managed to reply even though I felt my throat tighten. With that, he continued to speak. "I know Aran Ta told me about you, how you were created to see if sterilization was a possible solution for cloning soldiers. I also know that the experimentation on that matter came to an abrupt close after you were created, since that concept had some unsavory fall out."

"Your point, sir?" I asked, trying to bite my tongue as I prayed this wasn't going where I thought it was going. The man snorted. "Patience is not in your nature, is it?" "Perhaps not, sir."

There was a pause as he stood up, clasping his hands behind his back, and started to walk around me. "Being a commando was not your design, nor is it built into your existence at this point." he stopped right in front of me, leaning down a little to look me in the eyes. "And you don't share the same DNA as these troopers, so everything about you is a mystery and could very well be a liability. That and you're a female, something these lads may find a distraction." My jaw tightened so hard I thought I'd chip a few teeth. "Sir, what are you getting at, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

He straightened up. "You will not be part of Captain Gregor's squad."

My heart dropped to the steel floor. I had trained with them my whole life. I should have seen such a decision coming a good mile away, but having it finally decided and hearing it made it feel so much worse.

"However," he continued. "You have shown immense skill and your training has indeed paid off. You passed your tests and training with little to no mess ups. Your skills are unique as is your way of improvising successfully. Because no one will assume you to be one of us, you have been assigned as an undercover operative as well as a specialist of sorts. You will be sent to meet up with the 501st legion. I believe Captain Rex has need of someone with your skill and know-how."

"Will that be all, sir?"

He nodded. "You will depart for Coruscant in the morning. I suggest you pack your things."

When I returned to the barracks, I heard the squad celebrating, excited to finally be out there on the field. When I walked in, Gregor saw me and ran to me, picking me up and spinning me around. "You did it, tar'ika!! Thanks to you, we finally get to-" he stopped when he saw that I wasn't celebrating, but rather, trying to hide the tears trailing down my cheeks. He put me down and excused himself from the group, ushering me into the refresher to talk. The door closed behind us. His deep brown eyes were filled with concern and his usual smile was not present. "Zi? What's wrong? I don't think I've ever seen you...cry before. What happened?" I wiped the tears furiously away, feeling ashamed that I was actually crying for the first time in, well, ever. "I...I'm not going to be a part of the squad."

Gregor blinked, shocked. "What?! But you trained all those years with us! You're practically one of us!!" "That's just it, I'm not. You lot were created to be commandos, perfected genetically and designed for your purpose! I was...I am...an experiment that somehow wound up here. My sole purpose was to be a test, not a soldier." More tears escaped me against my will. "I was trained because Aran Ta didn't have the time to look after me when I was younger. He thought by placing me with you guys I'd probably be..."

Gregor knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Zaria...what happened." I took a deep breath. "I've been assigned as an intelligence operative for the 501st, serving under Captain Rex. I..."

Gregor took a minute. "Well, it's not all bad then. You get to serve as you were trained, so it's not a total loss." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. "Kriff, ey, I didn't mean for that to come out like that." He continued to hold my hands. "That's not the issue, is it?"

I shook my head. "I may be foolish for saying this....but...."

"Yes?"

"What if I never see you again? I don't...I don't know if I..."

Gregor chuckled softly and ruffled my hair, making my black locks stand on end. "You'll definitely be seeing me, don't worry. And I'll make sure you hear from me too, if I can help it. Alright?"

I nodded and, to my surprise, he stood up and hugged me. Just held me. "You have a big heart. I pray that this war doesn't change that too harshly."

I was about to reply when there was a crash from the other side of the door followed by a "Goddamn it, Gadget!!" from Feral.

Gregor rolled his eyes. "Never a private moment with this lot." I snorted.

After another moment, I hugged Gregor again. "You keep them safe, Captain. They're the only family I got, besides you."

Gregor patted my back. "Don't worry, Zi. I'll make sure you see them again too."

-End-

Mando'a Translations (to the best of my knowledge. Feel free to correct me 😅)

.Shebs: Ass/Rear

.Osik: Crap

.Udesii: Calm down

. Vor'e, Alor'ad: Thanks, Captain.

.Tar'ika: Little Star

(I have no idea if I used this correctly. I just noticed "Star" was Tar in Mandoa and 'ika seemed to be used at the end of something to be turned into something affectionate. This could be crafted wrong so let me know if it is.)

Tags: @xanni-the-lepi

[trylynarie]

Fruit Sniper (Crosshair)

-imagine tbb as cadets for this one :) -

Crosshair was on the brink of insanity. These regs can't shoot basic targets yet they had the balls to claim he was the defective one. Okay granted not many ten year olds could shoot like a trained hitman and he was practically mute most of the time but it was the principle of it!

"Heya, Crosshair!" Wrecker on the other hand was beaming.

"Have you got to bring that stupid toy to the mess?" He sighed.

"Hey!" The big clone pouted, "Lula is apart of this team to! Where we go, she goes! And I know it was you who made her for me."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Anyway, doesn't it drive you insane?" Crosshair said through gritted teeth, he had indirectly started a staring contest with a reg and he was not losing.

"What insane? What ya lookin at?"

"These stupid regs."

"Reg are just regs," he shrugged, "not worth worrying about them."

The reg in particular was rapidly losing this contest. From the other side of the mess, Crosshair could see that his eyes were beginning to go red and water. Red like... oh... what a wonderful idea. Petty, yes. But petty enough to turn the insanity tables.

"Wrecker... how many watermelons can you carry?"

"Haha! More than you! .... Umm.... Why?"

"Break into the kitchen and steal as much fruit as you possibly can."

"Well what's in it for me?"

He gave a satisfactory smirk as the reg couldn't take anymore and lost the game, "you get to watch me put these Shebs in their place."

About an hour later, Wrecker and Crosshair were hiding in the kaminoans viewing platform of the mess, curtains only slightly ajar so Crosshair could see what he was doing. Was this severely breaking the rules? Yes. Did they care? No of course they didn't, it's only a crime if you get caught after all ;). The door was locked and at this point anyone in the bad batch knew the ventilation layout like the back of their hand.

"So what exactly is it you're gonna do with a sniper and fruit?" Wrecker questioned.

"Prove that regs are stupid?" Crosshair focused on the point he needed, if he short this right...

This didn't exactly provide Wrecker with much clarity.

"So what do you want me to do then?"

"Go to the vent in the mess ceiling and drop the melons of course."

"Of course." Wrecker imitated, rolling his eyes and climbed back into the vent.

As expected, Wrecker was having a growth spurt earlier than his fellow defective counterparts and the vent seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. Tech predicted that in a couple months he wouldn't be able to fit anymore. Sure he took pride in being the strong one but it suddenly made him more different than his friends; more different than he was comfortable with. But it made the vent cover easier to take off so it was a 50/50 situation.

The first water melon was casually rolled out the ceiling. Now was was crosshair going to-

A singular shot was fired, hitting the melon and making it burst with a loud bang and spraying the floor dwelling regs in a red watery mess. The cadets would have mistaken it for blood if one of them didn't get it in their mouth. The confused wails were a melody to Crosshairs ears. Nobody shall dis his squad!

Besides the one cheering Hardcase he could hear in the background.

"WOO SOMETHING INTERESTING!"

"Hardcase shut up!"

"HOW ABOUT NO?!"

"There's watermelon all over my revision notes I have a heart exam in less than an hour."

"THEY GOT HELMETS ON THEIR HEADS! BUT I GOT A WATER MELON INSTEAD! B-)"

Wrecker had a Birds Eye view on the whole scene and could see Crosshair had covered a significant amount of surface area. This was too good, their faces looked so confused! Now what if he threw down another?

It would have helped if his grey haired companion was actually looking out of the window rather than giggling into the sniper. It was only by chance he saw a large amount of green move rapidly across his peripheral vision.

"Sheb!" He cussed as he quickly leapt up to the window, barely getting the shot in time.

BANG

The pieces came at the regs this time with much more velocity, one of them being physically blown back from melon to the face. This was pure gold. He knew he was going to get in some form of trouble for this but it was totally worth it

—————————

"There's another one." Tech cocked his head towards Hunter.

"Yeah, are we being attacked or something?"

The pair of them were in the barracks, in a mutual stale mate of 'this noise is really overwhelming me but I'm not going to tell you that'.

As much as he didn't want to, Hunter concentrated on the noise's whereabouts.

"I... I think... it's coming from the mess hall."

"Didn't Crosshair and Wrecker go there?"

"Oh no?" Hunter went pale, not expecting it to be their creativity causing the ruckus, "we gotta go."

He made his way for the door but was pulled back by a concerned Tech.

"If it really is an attack we shouldn't go through the corridors!"

"Yeah," Hunter agreed, "take the vent."

There were multiple vents into the mess hall. Having more common sense than the other two, they went for the one that was closest to the floor.

"What do you see?" Tech asked.

"There seems to be no droids," Hunter surveyed the scene, "but they're all panicking about something or other. And they're... covered in fruit?"

"Pardon?"

"I'm not joking."

They clambered out of the vent, only to get hounded by the newly painted red regs.

"You!" One pointed at them accusingly, "I bet you freaks had something to do with this!"

Hunter raised his hands, "hey calm down, soldier. We just came to investigate. What's going on up here?"

"Guys!" Another reg bounced over to them, assumably Hardcase.

Despite Hunters heightened senses, he still couldn't tell him apart from the others. He felt bad about it but the guy was so hyper he could tell off personality. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"There's watermelons exploding everywhere, it's hilarious!"

Tech raised an eyebrow, "water melons?"

"Yes!" The angry reg butted back in, "and you can't tell me otherwise that it's you!"

"We may be more skilled than you but defying the law of gravity may be difficult even for us." He shot back in a deadpan tone.

"Well then where's q-tip and smooth brain?"

Hardcase glared at him, "they have names you know?"

"You're just as bad as them you little traitor."

"OH YEAH?!"

While Hunter tried his best to stop Hardcase going ham, Tech went about figuring out what on Kamino was going on. Melons from the ceiling? Well there was a vent... oh- OH! The vent was open with a clear face poking out the shadows and conveniently half a face behind observation deck curtains. The face in the ceiling also gave a little wave to him. Impressive. As funny as he thought this was, there was a high chance it would damage their reputation more than it was already.

"Hunter, can you do me a favour?"

"I'm a little busy right now!"

"Just go check on a ceiling vent, will you?"

Hardcases medic batch mate had now joined the fray. They had an arm each on Hardcase with the medic silently begging Hunter to not let go.

"You go!" Hunter shouted back.

Tech let out a sigh as he crawled back into the unsanitary vent. Why was it him always doing everything? It wasn't easy to scale up a vertical vent but the skill might come in handy one day. The vent was pitch black so he had to make some very well educated guesses on where he was but he was a Tech so this was fine.

Fine until he heard a "Wait Tech no-"

He had crawled straight into the melons causing one to dislodge.

"No no no oh no..." all Wrecker could do was hope that-

"I had to dip," Crosshair was coming up behind him, "The Kaminoans were breaking down the door-" he froze as he heard a loud thump.

"I don't wanna look..."

"Wrecker just look down."

He looked, "well... I don't think Hunter is going to remember any of this again."

And he was right. All Hunter remembered after the incident was a large amount of green then darkness. The melon had knocked him out cold.

———————

"Yeah and that's how the glorious Sargent was defeated by a watermelon." Crosshair smirked, Omega looked spellbound.

"Wow."

"CROSSHAIR STOP TELLING OMEGA-"

[arcsimper5]

Actions and Consequences - Chapter 1 Resolute

Delta Squad are forced to seek help from within the fleet for their injured Jedi, Jerra. Mixing with the GAR general is... an issue.

Pairing: OC!Jedi Jerra x Delta Squad Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, some blood, language. Rating: M (Explicit content in later chapters, minors DNI)

Kix huffed as the hangar medical alert rang out into the med bay, the low buzz of it echoing through his skull.

It had been a long day already, the Resolute in orbit above Pravada 9, a large group assault on droid production bases having been ordered by the GAR while data was gathered by a specialist assault team.

Looking at the chrono, he frowned in confusion; the last of the teams from the 501st and 212th had returned hours ago, with no reports of lost ships or units. Everyone deployed from the ship had been accounted for.

So why, then, was the medical alert sounding if all troops had returned?

Grumbling in annoyance at the inevitable extension of his shift, he grabbed his medkit and made the short journey to the hangar, looking around for his new patients.

There were a few groups of troopers milling around, but none that seemed to need attention. One lot of four were playing sabacc on some nearby crates while another small gathering of softshells were working on a gunship which had taken quite a bit of damage in the incursion.

None of them seemed to need his attention, his annoyance growing further.

“Anyone call for a medic?” he asked loudly, several heads snapping in his direction.

A murmuring response of ‘no’ and ‘not me’ came from the troopers, Kix letting out a growl of annoyance.

“Then who the kark is wasting my time by calling me down here?” he snapped, some of the sabacc troopers exchanging concerned looks.

He was about to head back to medbay and file a false alarm report when a gravelly voice called across the hangar, a large, imposing clone in distinctive armour appearing from the end of a gunship, a large sniper rifle in his hands.

“I am,” the trooper called, the entire hangar silent now, watching the interaction.

Kix raised an eyebrow, looking the trooper up and down. He could tell by his bucket, which was still firmly in place, that he was a Commando. His bulk on its own was intimidating, but the paint job on his armour completed the picture, the white plastoid flashed with red on his legs, arms and midsection, what appeared to be a bloody handprint covering the area around his visor, giving the impression of it being fresh and dripping.

“You’re not 501st or 212nd,” Kix huffed, the sniper letting out an amused huff.

“What gave it away? You a medic or not?”

Kix stared at the Commando for a moment, caught between actions.

“You’re not on my treatment compliment,” he stated firmly, the sniper staring back. Even under his visor, Kix could practically feel the coldness of the look.

“But you are a medic,” he growled in return, “and we need you.”

“For what?” Kix questioned automatically, the larger clone almost certainly rolling his eyes.

“A fifth for sabacc. What do you think, di’kut?”

Kix was about to offer a sharp retort when another Commando appeared behind the sniper, his posture communicating his impatience.

“Sev! What the kriff is taking so long?”

It only took the other man a moment to register Kix’s presence, his size matching this so-called ‘Sev’, though his bucket was off, exposing a frustrated expression.

Even though he looked like a clone and his hair was slightly longer than regulation, the Commando armour he wore, mostly green with a white flashed chestpiece, he gave off the air of someone much more superior.

“You, medic! We’ve been waiting on you! Get your shebs back to the ship!”

Kix frowned, his frustration growing.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he huffed, “but I’m assigned to the 501st. You can’t just turn up on a republic fleet ship, call a medic and demand medical attention without registering first.”

“Oh, look, the little shiny doctor doesn’t know who we are,” Sev chuckled lowly, the other Commando rolling his eyes and glaring at him.

“Can it, Sev. This is about Jerra, not you.”

“Look,” Kix sighed, shaking his head, “let me call the on-call medic. I’m sure they can…”

“No time!” the unidentified Commando cut him off, shaking his head, “Our Jedi is injured. Now are you gonna do your job or not?”

As Sev chuckled, Kix felt the urge to decline simply on principle, but hearing there was an injured Jedi piqued his interest, not to mention his innate need to help was kicking in. Whether it was in his genes or in his heart, he couldn’t fight it, relenting with a long suffering sigh as he trudged towards the commandos.

“Ugh, fine! Just… register after, okay? I need to record all treatment.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” the Commando nodded, waving behind him in a gesture for Kix to follow.

“What Battalion are you even from?” Kix asked as they weaved through the gunships, most in various states of battle damaged, towards the rear of the hangar.

“Battalion?” Sev rumbled, his tone amused, “That’s cute.”

“We’re Delta Squad,” the other clone responded tightly. “I’m Fixer, this is Sev. Boss and Scorch are still on the shuttle with Jerra, our Commander.”

“Delta Squad?” 

Kix froze in place for a second, Sev almost walking into him, barely dodging his stock still form. 

“The Delta Squad? The ones who ran the demo job on Geonosis during the first battle of the Clone Wars?”

“History lesson later,” Fixer urged him, reaching back and grabbing his arm, the medic stumbling a little as he was pulled along, “first, medic stuff.”

“But… You guys are… You’re a myth! You’re not… You’re not supposed to exist!”

“And yet, here we are,” Sev chuckled, a hiss sounding as he reached up with one hand, unclipping his bucket and pulling it off.

Kix took in his features, surprised. Again, although he looked the same as the rest of his brothers, Sev had a certain… severity to him, as obvious as it would seem.

Two large scars ran across his face, one down from the top of his hairline to just below his cheekbone over his right eye, the other across the same eye, from the bridge of his nose to the curve of his face. It looked oddly like a crosshair.

His hair was thick, tight curls cut short, shoots of grey showing through. Light amber eyes stared back at Kix, a wicked smirk tilting at chapped lips.

“Got an issue?” he grinned, Kix immediately shaking his head.

“N-No… Kriff… Rex is not gonna believe this…”

Turning to Sev, he hesitated for a moment. “Is it true the four of you took back an entire republic cruiser from trandoshan pirates on your own?” 

Sev smirked, raising an eyebrow at the medic. 

“Is that what they tell you?” he teased, the low tone of his voice sending an uncomfortable shiver down Kix's spine. 

“Like I said,” the other commando huffed from in front of them, “history lesson later. And to be fair, it was mostly Boss.” 

Within moments, they were free of the field of battleworn gunships, the path to a beat up looking attack shuttle appearing. Another Commando was waiting outside, this one with a white chest piece, grey and gold covering his arms and legs.

“Took ya long enough!” he yelled as they approached, his voice somehow softer than the average clone’s, “What were ya doing? Teaching him how to practice medicine?”

“Can it, Scorch,” Fixer snapped, releasing Kix’s arm as they approached the ramp, Scorch’s face scrunched in an unimpressed expression.

His hair was much longer than the others, thick curls pulled back into a loose braid at the back, a few ringlets falling around his face. He leant against the ship with his arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning Kix suspiciously.

“How’s she doing?” Sev quizzed Scorch, the expression on the slightly smaller clone’s face faltering a little.

“In pain,” he replied quickly, looking pointedly to Kix, “Boss is with her. He’s been pushing bacta, but you know how she is with supplies.”

“You,” Sev grunted at Kix before nodding to the door, sharp eyes locked on him, “inside.”

“Going, going!” Kix assured him, drawing in an attempt at a steadying breath as he pushed through the doorway of the ship, the insides dimly lit.

It was a modest set up in the shuttle, a bunk room off to one side, labelled as such on the door. A small refresher was marked at the back, top and rear gunner mount positions visible from the main gangway.

Looking down towards the rear, Kix soon found his target, watching curiously as he crept closer.

The Jedi, Jerra, was sat on one of the navigation seats, her left hand supporting a limp right arm, face twisted with pain as she let out a hiss.

She was human, at least she appeared to be, warm skin over tight features. Her eyes seemed to dance with a green light in the darkness, focused on the Commando in front of her, the clone kneeling as he looked over her knees, one of which was exposed and covered with a bacta patch.

Her long dark hair was pulled back into multiple braids that trailed down her back, pulled together with a gold band. The clone in front of her was helmetless, hair short and mussed, curls spilling onto his skin haphazardly as he rested on one knee, hands gentle as he rubbed bacta in a nasty looking cut on her leg.

Visibly, it seemed to be her only other urgent injury, save the small cuts that littered her face. They looked like shrapnel wounds, ones that Kix was, unfortunately, all too familiar with.

“Not long now, mesh’la,” he grumbled lowly, his accent thick and low, a warmth to it that made Kix raise an eyebrow, “we’ll get some meds into you.”

“I can wait,” Jerra replied with a forced smile, adoration clear on her face as she looked the commando over, letting out a huff of laughter, “you shouldn’t be wasting bacta on me, Boss, I told you…”

“Hush,” Boss ordered, his voice stern, though his smile betrayed his tone, “bacta can be replaced. You can’t.”

A moment stretched between them, intimate and deep, simply sharing a connection, and for a second, Kix felt like he was intruding on something private.

“Uh… Sorry to interrupt,” he managed, his voice cracking a little as Jerra’s intense gaze turned to meet him, Boss’s smile fading entirely as he stood back up to full height, “I’m Kix, the medic from the 501st.”

“About time you got here,” Boss grunted, stepping back to allow Kix access to Jerra, “does ‘rapid medical response’ mean something different in the fleet?”

“Boss,” Jerra chastised the Commando gently, Kix trying his best to keep his expression set as he approached, the large clone’s white and red armour adding to his intimidating presence, “leave him be. It’s not like we were announced.”

“Still,” Boss huffed, his eyes softening a little as Kix placed his back at Jerra’s feet, offering a weak smile.

“Sorry about them,” Jerra grinned softly, “they can be a little demanding. I hope they weren’t rude to you.”

“No more than any of my other vode,” Kix smiled back, earning a huff from Boss. “Now… the others mentioned you being in pain?”

His eyes travelled over her, noting the bacta patch on her leg and the way she still held her arm.

“Do you mind telling me what happened?”

“Big ass explosion!” a shout came from the doorway, Scorch leaning around it, watching intently, “Got caught in the shockwave. Uh… sorry, again, about that.”

“Out!” Boss yelled, stamping towards the ramp, his face set. Jerra simply rolled her eyes and let out a breath of laughter, focusing back on Kix.

“We were infiltrating one of the maintenance facilities while the battle distracted the main forces,” she explained as Kix reached up, flattening his palm for her to lower her arm onto it, “our objective was to take it out and get intel on the newer battle droids they’re pushing out. Things got a bit heated, more security than intel thought there’d be, and I got pushed off a walkway by one of the breach blasts. Boss caught me before I fell all the way down, but it jarred my arm some.”

Kix hummed as he listened, eyes now intently fixed on her arm as he rolled the fabric covering it up as gently as he could. Her robes were a dark brown, the tunic underneath faded greens and greys, all tattered and smelling distinctly of explosive residue.

“Lucky escape,” Kix smiled, Jerra wincing as he tried to straighten her arm, hissing in pain. In his peripheral, he saw Boss turn sharply at the noise, trying his best to focus. 

The skin around the joint was purple and black, bruised badly. The swelling was quite severe, but there seemed to be no obvious deformation.

“I can’t tell from just looking, but there’s some bruising and irritation around the joint. Did you hear a pop or crack when you were caught?”

Jerra hesitated for a moment, looking towards Boss, her expression caught.

“I need you to be honest,” Kix explained softly, “or we might miss something that could cause complications in the future. We can heal whatever it is, I promise.”

With a long exhale, Jerra closed her eyes and nodded, something close to shame echoing across her features.

“It dislocated when Boss caught me,” she murmured, gaze averted to her feet, “and I popped it back in. Hurt like a jawa-kriffer, but it let me keep going.”

“Mesh’la…”

Boss’s call cut through the silence, the pain in his tone apparent.

“You should have told me… I’m…”

“Don’t,” Jerra frowned back at him, watching cautiously as he approached, “you did what you had to. I’m alive, we’re all here, that’s what matters. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry.”

“Damn right I’d worry,” Boss glared back at her, “It’s my job to look out for you all!”

“And you did!”

“But you got hurt…”

“Instead of falling to my death!”

Boss considered her words for a moment, hovering over her as Kix looked between them, the tension growing.

“Well, uh, there might be some small fractures in the elbow joint,” he explained quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation, “but I’d need to do a scan to be sure. It might also be good to look at the rest of your joints too, mainly your shoulder. A force like that can dislodge things or pull other muscles. It’s nothing that a bacta wrap won’t fix overnight, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“No,” Boss growled, Kix’s gaze darting to Jerra as she rolled her eyes, letting out a huff, “we have orders to be back en-route by oh-four-hundred. We’re only here for medical attention, resupply and refuel.”

“And you’re getting medical attention,” Kix replied sternly, releasing Jerra’s arm back to her as gently as he could, gathering his pack and standing, “and I’m telling you she needs more treatment.”

“We’re not leaving without her.”

“Then you’re not leaving at all,” Kix frowned, gesturing at Jerra. “If you want to deny her treatment and possibly aggravate what is currently a minor injury, be my guest. But if it is broken, bone fragments could shift and damage both muscle and tissue, not to mention the pain will only build. She needs rest and recuperation, and as a medic, I am able to pull individuals from active service for that.”

“Need a hand, Boss?”

Sev’s deep voice echoed through the ship, two other faces also peering in, their expressions stern.

It was clear that they were willing to step in if there was an argument, Jerra huffing in frustration as Kix stood his ground, shouldering his bag.

The Commando and the Medic stared each other down for a long moment, Boss’s eyes searching Kix’s face.

After what felt like an eternity, Boss let out a frustrated huff and stepped back, allowing Kix to pass.

“One rotation. No longer,” he growled, looking back to Jerra, “and one of us is always with her.”

“Boss,” she protested, quickly cutting off her own reply as he glared back at her.

“That’s an order.”

“I outrank you,” she shot back, hissing again as she stood up, following Kix as he made his way through the ship, though she made no further argument.

Boss looked her up and down, putting out a hand against the durasteel wall on the other side of the galley, blocking her path while the medic disembarked, his intense gaze finding hers once more.

“Boss,” she breathed again, swallowing hard when his free hand moved to her face, tracing his knuckles down the side of her face, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should have told me,” he grumbled after a moment, the guilt in his eyes making her chest constrict. “I hurt you.”

“You saved my life,” she reminded him, stepping into his space, tucking her head under his chin.

Taking another deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tenderly, taking the upmost care not to put pressure on her arm. “Better broken than a pile of goop on the floor of a maintenance facility.”

Boss let out a soft chuckle, his expression softening once more. Pulling away slightly, he looked down at Jerra, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll make it up to you, cabur,” he promised, voice little more than a whisper, “we all will.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she teased gently, shivering at the sensation of his breath ghosting over her cheeks, “it’s been too long, Boss.”

“I know, cyare,” he smiled, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, drawing a whimper from deep in her throat, “but what was it you taught us about patience?”

“Gar chayaikir,” she moaned softly, growling as he pulled away, “you’re going to pay for this.”

“Hey, riddurok’la, your medic is getting twitchy!” Scorch shouted from the doorway, leaning in with a sly grin on his face, looking over the scene with amusement. “Gar me'dinuir, vod?”

“Mir’sheb,” Boss growled in response, moving towards the door, Jerra following with a blush on her cheeks. “Come on then, my lady,” he teased bowing as he reached the door, “your medic awaits.”

*-*-* Translations: Di’kut - idiot Shebs - Ass/Butt Mesh’la - Beautiful Cabur - Protector/Guardian Cyare - Beloved/One who is beloved Gar chayaikir - You tease Gar me'dinuir, vod? - You share, brother? Riddurok’la - Married Couple (rough translation) Mir’sheb - Smartass

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 1: Sick

Summary: He couldn't be sure what this was. If he had just become sick with something planet-side, or if this was an intentional drugging or even poisoning. This enemy, the soldiers of Umbara, they were not at all like the droids he was trained to fight. It wouldn't be wrong to assume they might be hiding something. The only thing Tup knew for sure was that something was wrong and that he was alarmingly ok with it...

Warning: Allusions to Mind Manipulation and Blood Drinking

Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

After the first couple of days of being planet-side, the recon squads had returned to the 501st's and 212th's temporary joint base camp with what could almost pass for horror stories. Terrifying tales of things that gnashed their teeth at you in the constant darkness. Unsettling accounts of eyes that followed you from up above the trees, and slippery forms that darted quickly past before you could even aim your blaster at them.

More worrying yet, they had whispered about the enemy in protective hazmat gear incorporated into their armour. Of pale-faced and agitated looking soldiers, who seemed so clearly afraid to breathe in their own planet's air for reasons completely unknown to them. Shadowy men who looked around their environment as if expecting to be attacked by something other than the Republic's forces. Something much worse.

Both Generals Skywalker and Kenobi had listened with peaked interest. The GAR had acquired slightly limited intel of the Umbarans' methods and gear, and being sent in blind was not something the Jedi had taken lightly (well, general Kenobi at the very least seemed more apprehensive than general Skywalker). But, in the end, that detail had mattered very little. The air was clearly breathable, and the scans had not detected any known airborne diseases or strange agents. The medics had given them all permission to take their buckets off outside of battle.

The air had ultimately been deemed safe, so the most plausible explanation for the specialized helmets had been to administer a stimulant of some kind. Probably adrenaline. Whatever it was, was of little important. What mattered was that the Jedi and the vode didn't need to be paranoid about any potential chemical warfare.

Which didn't help to explain why Tup felt... Strange...

Then again, after their first proper engagement with the enemy, he hardly had the time to pull any of the medical team aside. Not Kix, not Coric, not even their respective Shinies (although he didn't think the term applied to Sponge or Pitch anymore, just their newest medic Twitch). The fights had just kept coming, and it became easier and easier to shove the feelings of wrongness aside.

Now he just couldn't bring himself to care about it in the same way he had when he'd first started feeling a little off. The way Dogma still did whenever their watch ended, and he insisted on taking a look at the rash that had not gone away since the little incident with one of those big plant monster things...

When exactly the strange detached feeling started, he couldn't tell for sure. The rash was the first thing that came to mind since it had become a constant pain in the shebs to endure, but everything else? It was all a blur. One massive confusing blur that made no real sense to him. Leaving him with several hours unaccounted for, and disjointed thoughts that felt alien to him in every sense of the word.

That alone should have scared him more than anything else. That he was missing time and that his thought process was so clearly altered. But it didn't. Tup felt nothing but a sense of contradictory calmness. And that's where the strangeness of it all really hit hard.

That he knew something was going on with him, but that his reactions were incredibly subdued whenever he thought to reach out for help.

Even now, as he raked his fingernails over the persistent rash on the back of his neck, he felt no real desire to tell anyone medically qualified about it. Dogma's insistent pleas that he at least ask for something to treat the irritated skin were also easily pushed aside. Which really wasn't fair to do to his little brother. Not when he always did his best to look after Tup... Especially now that they had both lost Acronym...

Dogma... Ever the loyal brother and soldier. Always trying to do what was best for the vode, even when his efforts went unnoticed or unappreciated. Life certainly wasn't fair to his twin whatsoever. His poor vod'ika who was always such a terrible anxious mess in the face of uncertainty or potential failure...

And, even though he knew this was a rather alarming thing to think about, Tup couldn't help but to entertain the thought that this calmness he had been feeling for a while now, would do his vod'ika better than it was doing him. Would benefit Dogma in a way he couldn't quite explain... It just felt right to make such a conclusion...

Clicking his jaw left and then right, Tup hummed quietly to himself as he tried to decide what he should do next. He couldn't be sure what this was. If he had just become sick with something planet-side, or if this was an intentional drugging or even poisoning. This enemy, the soldiers of Umbara, they were not at all like the droids he was trained to fight. It wouldn't be wrong to assume they might be hiding something.

The only thing Tup knew for sure was that something was wrong and that he was alarmingly ok with it... And that he was also starting to feel ok with the idea that maybe, if this was in any way infectious, that he wouldn't mind sharing the experience with Dogma. And, as Tup's eyes landed on the sleeping form of his batcher, he couldn't think of a better brother to be at his very beck and call. A strange slithering sensation creeping up his throat as this same thought rang in his mind like a siren call.

There was no one as loyal, quick and efficient, and so very eager to please like Dogma. No one as gullible and easy to manipulate. He was the perfect drone for a growing hive. The ideal specimen.

Mind going foggy as the now familiar feeling of calmness washed away the fear and disgust he felt of such an idea, Tup felt compelled to lean over his twin and relax his jaw. His sleeping twin leaning against his touch, unaware of the danger he was in. The new alien appendage that had been growing in the back of Tup's throat for the last couple of days slithering out without a fuss, and plunging into the back of the sleeping clone's exposed neck to begin the feeding process that preceded the drone implantation.

As the parasite pumped him full of mind numbing doses of dopamine to reward him for his heinous actions, Tup's last coherent thought before the world went black was that he hoped Dogma would forgive him for doing this to him...

[rinwritesfics]

How (Not) to Heal - Chapter 5

Plot: After being rescued from Mount Tantiss, Crosshair has to figure out how to work with the Batch again - and their new medic. It would be fine if he didn’t start to fall in love with her.

Warnings: Cross is mean in this one

Word Count: 1211

Author’s Note: This chapter was originally longer, but I had to break it into multiple parts, thanks Tumblr.

Previously

Chapter 5 It’s easy to describe how simple a mission sounds. You go in, erase a computer, steal some data while you’re at it, then blow the place to smithereens. Four simple steps. But a stealth mission was anything but simple, especially for the Bad Batch. Nothing was ever simple for the squad. Even before with only four people, despite being known for their success rate, they were also known for how messy things could get. Adding Echo brought the team to five, but now the team had a medic and a little sister. Crosshair wasn’t sure just how messy things would get with seven people. “You sure you know how to fire a blaster and hit the target?” Crosshair asked Ka’li. She scowled at him. “Yes, Crosshair, I know how to fire a DC-17. I may be a medic, but I can still shoot.” She turned to the target range and called out she was firing, then made three excellent shots: one in the face, one in the throat, and one in the chest, the holes in the target aligning like stars in a story. He scowled back, trying to hide that he was impressed. Currently, they were all at an underground rebellion base in prep for their mission. The range was quite rudimentary to Crosshair, but it did its job.

She set the blaster down in the safety position, then turned to Crosshair. “Why are you here with me and not with Omega?” “Because I’ve seen her shoot her bow. I had my doubts about both of you joining us in the field, but I had never seen you shoot.” “I honestly prefer healing over killing, but in a war, I know the only choice I have is them or me.” Crosshair crossed his arms and leaned against the barrier in your little firing lane. “It all makes sense, now,” he drawled, then moved the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other. “What does?” “You.” “Oh, do I?” She crossed her arms. He nodded. “You’re a little saint.” He didn’t say it in a kind tone. He said it in the harshest way possible. He couldn’t stand her. He couldn’t stand to be apart from her. He couldn’t stand how he couldn’t stand it all. “Excuse me?” “I called you a little saint, sweetheart. You’re so perfect. Oh, how you just want to save everyone. You make me sick.” “Then why are you still here with me?” “Maker, I wish I knew.” He watched her unload the powerpack from the weapon, lock it, then holster both pieces separately. “You know, Crosshair, every time I think you’re warming up to me, you do something stupid like this.” “Why would I warm up to you?” “Hells if I know! You seem to like dangling friendship over my head, then ripping it away! I’m done with it!” “I don’t dangle friendship over your pretty little head.” “Osik, Crosshair! Now go blow it out your shebs!” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the range. He ran his hands over his face. He’d done it again. What was it about her that got him so damn worked up in the wrong way? He stalked to the meeting room, knowing full well he was a half-hour early and sulked. It started to dawn on him. This was still war. He could still lose everything and everyone. Why take the risk of someone else in his life? The meeting came and went and he had to hold in a sigh of relief at the assignments. He could be alone as much as he wanted until the building was breached. But then Hunter dropped the news. “Crosshair, as soon as you are in the building, you and Ka’li will meet up here -” he pointed on the holomap “- and work to release the prisoners. Echo, Tech, and Omega will get the data. Rex and I will be on another level freeing more clones, and Wrecker -” “Set the explosives!” he cheered. Crosshair rolled his eyes. He would rather have been assigned with Rex than with Ka’li, especially with how he treated her that morning. He looked over at her, but she didn’t look at him. Oh, this was bound to go swimmingly.

* * *

“Remember your assignments,” Hunter said quietly, “And don’t forget about the experimental droids they’ve been building. We’ve seen what Separatist droids could do, and there’s no telling what these ones are capable of.” Crosshair began to climb a ways up to reach his viewpoint and settled in behind a boulder. Despite his armor, he could feel the sparse grass soaking his armor with its morning dew. He scrunched his nose at the feeling, but he still settled into his position. Hunter gave the signal to go and the rest of the team ran across the bridge to the landing pad and in through the hangar door, blasting their way through the chaos that started to pour out. Alarms began to scream into the morning breeze. Crosshair took each shot with ease and cleared a path for them. At the hangar door, Hunter and Rex stayed, allowing Crosshair any needed cover as he made his way across the bridge, too. Once he was inside, they split up and Crosshair made a beeline for the lower level cell block. He almost ran face-first into Ka’li. The look in her eyes was poorly disguised disdain, but she took a breath and didn’t let it come out as more than a slightly sharper tone than usual. “Glad you made it. We’re about to have company.” He narrowed his eyes, but he remembered she couldn’t see it and dropped the scowl. It was going to be exhausting to keep up an appearance, anyway. After all, it wasn’t her fault �� he had done this. He wanted to bite out how he knew they would be stuck in a firefight soon, how he wasn’t stupid, but she was already swiping a stolen keycard through the first door release. Crosshair kept an eye out for the incoming Stormtroopers and Imperial security droid units as he tossed the freed clones some… liberated DC-17’s he had picked up on the way. He turned back to the hallway leading away from the dead end of this cellblock and wished he had at least one targeting mirror. He would just have to make do without it. It was his job to keep a lookout. He was the sniper. He was tasked with everyone’s safety. Knowing they trusted him to do that scraped away at some of the pain inside him. He was more than capable of doing his job without fancy tricks, especially down a straight path. It was just more fun the other way. “Ka’li,” he said into his helmet’s comms. “Here comes company.” She swiped the card through the last door release as Crosshair began to fire at the incoming enemies. She called the attention briefly of the freed men and explained to them they were to follow Crosshair’s lead first and foremost. She then pushed through the men to get to Crosshair’s side. “On your mark, Cross.” Her voice was steady and held no contempt for him in it. A small thrill went through him. “Mark.”

Chapter 6 Tags: @crosshairsbabygurl, @starrylothcat, @thecoffeelorian, @idoubleswearimawriter, @heylosers06, @totesnothere04, @dangraccoon, @the-hexfiles, @jediknightjana