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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 8 months ago

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"Hold Still" / "Yeah, kid, we're fine"

@summer-of-bad-batch prompts week 9 & week 11 Plus bonus prompt from the original voting form (mods have confirmed that this one sadly didn't make the cut but I loved it and have been desperate to use it anyway) "I'm drinking a smoothie on this pristine beach. Unless someone is dying, leave me alone."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Mayday, Hexx, Veetch, Echo, Mox, Stak, Deke, Jax, Eva, Sami Set after season 3 when everyone is living happily on Pabu and clearly the Outpost boys didn't die and were just held captive on Tantiss and rescued along with the rest of the clone prisoners there Word Count: ~2945 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Mayday is relaxing on a pristine beach with a smoothie, and doesn't want to be bothered. But the beach is never free of drama.

Content Warning: near-drowning, CPR, vomiting

Author's Note: Threw the rulebook out the window with this one. No main POV character, it keeps switching, just a sweet happy story of the Outpost boys relaxing on the beach because they deserve some fun after, y'know, what I put them through in Welcome to the Outpost. @royallykt Veetch playing in the waves as promised :) <3

Veetch stood at the edge of the surf, foaming ocean waves tickling between his toes as he sank marginally into the wet sand. He shielded his eyes against the glare of sunlight on water – so alike and so different from the glare of sun on snow – and watched the swell of an incoming wave build and rise as it approached.

“You ready?” he grinned, tilting his head casually to the younger clone cadet stood by his side.

“I was made ready,” was Mox’s reply, the playful scorn in his voice belied by his wide smile. His damp hair, growing shaggy with the long, easy days on Pabu, was held back by a bandana. Veetch’s own curls were close-cropped, and ran rivulets of water down his spine.

A silent signal passed between them and the two clones broke towards the swelling wave in a run, splashing ungainly through the shallows.

Veetch reached it first, throwing himself headlong into a somersault to dive over the breaking wave and into the deeper water beyond. Mox wasn’t far behind, his own flip sending up a plume of spray as he hit the surf.

They staggered back to the beach, laughing, Veetch with one hand on Mox’s shoulder whilst the younger clone dashed water from his eyes.

“No kriffing way you jumped higher than me, no way!” Veetch was howling, tears of laughter joining the saltwater glaze on his skin.

He yelped in dismay as a stinging missile of wet sand slapped him in the chest.

“Language,” Deke warned with a grin from where he crouched just beyond the reach of the waves, shaking clinging damp sand from his hand. “There’s children present.”

Veetch made a show of rolling his eyes, but glanced apologetically at the cluster of Pabu children who had been watching the clones compete at somersaulting into the water. His sheepish but exaggerated facial expressions drew a laugh from them, and Mox merely clapped him on the back and grinned, knowing it would make his rival even more incorrigible.

From his position reclining on a lounger higher up the beach, Hexx raised his sunglasses to peer at the commotion down at the water’s edge.

“Think you ought to go down there and remind him not to go too hard on those lads?” he asked casually, leaning across towards Mayday.

On the neighbouring sun-lounger, the Commander’s expression was unreadable behind oversized sun-shades, a large straw hat pulled down low over his brow whilst he basked in the sun. His left arm hung lazily over the edge of the bed, a large glass filled with tropical juice in hand, the brightly coloured umbrella in the drink gaily winking in the sun.

“I’m drinking a smoothie on this pristine beach,” he said slowly, enunciating each word clearly from beneath the shade of his hat. “Unless someone is dying, leave me alone.”

Hexx chuckled and levered himself up from the sun lounger, grimacing a little at the ache in his bones that no amount of rest seemed to dispel. He set his bare feet in the sand, wriggling his toes, then pushed up and sauntered down the beach towards where the young clones played in the waves.

“Veetch,” he called as the younger surfaced from the water again, shaking droplets from his skin as he tried to clear one ear of water. “Why not switch to a game they can all enjoy?”

He nodded clearly towards the smaller children, some of them forbidden by parents from charging into the waves with such abandon. The muscular clone teenagers and Veetch might have the strength to withstand the tides, but the smaller ones didn’t.

With an affable grin Veetch waded from the water, wringing out his shorts, and immediately moved to the cluster of small children. A couple of gasps of excitement met his approach – they were all used to seeing clones around the island by now, with so many recuperating there after being liberated from Tantiss, but few of them had much to say to the children and even fewer would consider playing with them.

“Alright!” he said, crouching down to bounce on his heels, spreading his arms wide in a gesture that encompassed the small crowd of waiting youngsters. “What are we playing then?”

Smiling as the clone cadets quickly joined Veetch with the smaller kids, Hexx made his way back up the beach to slump on his own lounger at Mayday’s side, poking his best friend in the ribs.

“You should watch this. Veetch is a natural leader. Look at him organising those kids for a game.”

Mayday swatted his hand away, then brought his drink up to his lips and sipped slowly.

Hexx continued with a wide grin. “Wonder where he learned that.”

Humming a non-committal noise, Mayday deigned to shuffle up the lounger and nudge the brim of his sunhat up, surveying the scene on the sand. “What’re they playing now?”

“Looks like Team Tag,” said Hexx approvingly. “Makes it fair, by tethering the older boys and Veetch to the little ones.”

Indeed, further along the beach, on the dry sand now, Veetch was holding hands ever so carefully with a youngster who barely stood as high as his hip. The other clone boys, Mox, Stak and Deke, had been living on Pabu for longer know, and knew all the children by name.

They seemed relaxed and at ease as the game started up, one pair nominated as ‘it’ and in charge of racing after and catching the others. When they were ‘tagged’ the new pair would tear after the others – although ‘tearing’ was subjective, speed limited by the leg length of the shorter.

When Veetch got tagged he simply swept his small team-mate up into his arms, charging along the beach at full tilt with the youngster laughing raucously in his grasp. Cries of delight and dismay echoed from the others, the clone boys complaining the loudest.

“That’s cheating!”

“No fair, Veetch!”

The game of tag quickly devolved into a brawl on the sand, the clones and the younger children dogpiling Veetch and pinning him down. The clone thrashed in the sand, every movement exaggerated, howling with laughter as the teenaged cadets held him in place whilst the Pabu kids began to bury his legs.

From his position watching from the sun lounger, Hexx snorted a laugh. “So much for that game.”

Mayday only smiled behind his beard, and took another sip of his smoothie.

A shadow fell over their encampment, and both clones looked up to see a pale-skinned clone with cybernetic enhancements opening a beach umbrella so that it shaded their position. He looked down with a smile, honey-gold eyes sparkling above prominent cheekbones.

“Commander… Sargeant. Hope you don’t mind me robbing you of a bit of your sun. All the lotion in the world doesn’t stop me burning in this heat.”

Both clones nodded their acquiescence, and Mayday added, “It’s just Mayday and Hexx, now.” He twisted in his seat, taking the sunglasses off and perching them on the brim of his hat. “You must be the ARC Trooper.”

Hexx rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder. “’The ARC Trooper’… That’s Echo, the Hero of Anaxes that you’re talking to!” He stood and offered a hand, which Echo clasped firmly. “I had batchmates who made it out of that conflict alive because of you. It’s an honour.”

Echo’s smile twisted with an ache of grief, but he gave Hexx’s hand a brief squeeze before releasing it. Hexx sat sideways, and Echo perched on the end of the sun lounger.

“About that. We’ve got many more brothers who we’re hoping to get alive out of the Empire’s testing facilities. I hear you might be up for the fight?”

Mayday nodded slowly, rubbing one hand through his beard. “Crosshair talked to you?”

“Yeah. Said you’d be a great asset.”

Flicking his gaze to Hexx, Mayday grunted a laugh. “Didn’t realise we’d made such an impression on the lad.”

“Well, you did,” said Echo matter of factly, then added, “and it takes a lot to impress Crosshair. Especially as a reg.” He chuckled at some private thought, and gestured with his scomp. “I’m not asking you to come with me right this minute. Was just going to give you my com code, so when you’re recovered enough, you can get in touch.”

Hexx pulled out his com, handing it to Echo, who programmed in the details.

“Crosshair said there were three of you?” the cyborg clone asked, glancing up to seek the third.

With a snort of laughter, Hexx gestured along the beach. “You can take Veetch now. Might burn off some of his energy.” He gave an exaggerated, wistful sigh. “Oh, to be that young again.”

Veetch had freed himself from his sandy entombment and was back at the water’s edge, washing the prickly stuff off his skin.

All of a sudden a cry of alarm went up from further along the beach – a child’s voice, high and panicked. Immediately all three clones were on alert, Mayday almost dropping his smoothie in his haste to stand.

“Jax! Jax fell in the water!”

Mayday squinted to see where a pair of small children were climbing on the rocks. It seemed to be two girls, one rosy-skinned, one blue. They were gazing at the water, urgently clinging to each other.

Without needing to speak, the clones burst into action, sunbeds and parasols forgotten as they raced towards the rocks.

Veetch was closer, and had heard the same cry, responding in the same way. He reached them first, immediately splashing into the water and beginning to swim out with strong, sure strokes.

When they reached the two girls Echo reached out to them, carefully helping them down from the slippery rocks. “What happened?” he asked, crouching down to their height. He seemed familiar with them, and Mayday and Hexx hung back a little to watch. “Eva? Sami? Can you tell me?”

“A big wave came,” said the blue-skinned Pantoran girl, her voice small and frightened. “It pulled Jax off the rocks.”

By now the clone cadets had caught up, along with the other Pabu children, and both girls shrank back, clinging to each other. Echo glanced at Mayday and gestured for them to give them some space, so he turned with his arms spread and waved the others back.

“Okay, back up a bit,” Mayday said, glancing around the Pabu kids. “Who knows where these kids’ parents are?”

“They don’t have any,” said a boy in a small voice. “They came from Tantiss, like you.”

Mayday paused, startled. He glanced back at Echo with the girls, then out to sea just in time to see Veetch take a deep breath and dive under the water.

Kicking down beneath the waves, feeling the strong current snatch at him this far out, Veetch just barely spotted the green-skinned boy as he sank, dragged down by the weight of waterlogged clothes. He surfaced, took another breath, then dived again strongly, kicking hard to reach the boy. Locking his arms tightly round his waist, he reversed his kicks and fought to bring them back to the surface.

Breaching the surface of the waves, clone trooper and Mirialan boy both gasped in a lungful of air. The boy was coughing and spluttering, but still found the energy to fight his rescuer, flailing wildly against Veetch’s grasp.

“Hey, kid! Hold still!” warned Veetch, then yelped as a bony elbow cracked against his face. Pain lanced through his senses as his nose gushed blood, and for a moment his grip slackened in shock and the boy slid under the water again.

Mox had reached him now, treading water as he helped Veetch pull the youngster up again. Another submersion, and another lungful of swallowed water, had sent the fight out of the boy and now he lolled listlessly in Veetch’s grasp.

Veetch gestured that he was fine, even as blood streamed down his chin and neck, and rolled onto to his back to fight against the current and haul the boy back to shore.

As soon as they reached the shallows and Mox’s feet touched the sandy floor, he grabbed Jax from the older clone and ran up the sand, clear of the waves. Mayday met him and helped guide the unconscious Mirialan down to the sand, assessing the situation in a moment before dropping to his knees and tilting the boy’s head back, breathing life into his water-filled lungs.

“C’mon, lad, wake up for me,” he murmured as his hands pressed on the small chest, pumping a regular rhythm. Hexx was knelt on the other side, ready to take over.

With a start the boy convulsed and choked up a gout of water, gasping against his suddenly clear airway. With a hand on his shoulder Mayday helped him roll to his side, letting him vomit up the swallowed seawater onto the sand.

A sigh of relief and a ragged cheer rippled through the anxiously watching crowd. Veetch was out of the water now, coming up to join his squad-mates with fingers pinched to the bridge of his broken nose.

Rolling to his hands and knees, Jax shakily staggered to his feet. When Mayday held out a hand to steady him, he dashed it away.

“Stay away from me, clone!”

The former commander recoiled in surprise, glancing at the others. Jax stumbled back from him nervously, into the waiting arms of the girls he had been with on the rocks.

He didn’t seem to mind Echo’s presence.

“Woah, you’re okay,” soothed Echo, catching hold of the boy’s shoulder and kneeling at his level. “Eva, Sami, do you know where Emerie is?”

“She took Baryn for a nap,” said Eva, the Iktotchi girl, pointing back up towards the houses of Lower Pabu.

Echo looked at Stak and Deke. “Can you find her for me?”

With a nod, both cadets took off running.

Leaving Echo to wait with the green-skinned boy, Mayday turned uneasily towards Veetch and guided him back along the beach to check over his broken nose.

“Quick reactions, lad,” he praised as he examined him, nodding when he was satisfied. “You too,” he added, giving Mox an approving nod.

“Trust you to pick up an injury when you’re not even on active duty,” teased Hexx affectionately, clapping Veetch on the shoulder. Then, in a lower voice, “Well done. You did good.”

Veetch merely nodded, still catching his breath from the water and the shock of the elbow to the face.

“Um… sir?”

Mayday turned and glanced down in surprise, finding the pink-skinned Iktotchi girl standing there cringing up at them.

“Yes?” he asked, slightly bemused. Nat-borns were one thing, but nat-born children were a whole other confusion.

“Are you okay?”

At her meek but concerned question, Mayday broke out in a grin, crouching down to her level as he had seen Echo do.

“Yeah, kid. We’re fine.” He gestured up the beach. “Your friend okay?”

She nodded. “Jax won’t say thank you. He’s scared of clone troopers. But… you’re good ones. I can tell.” A shy smile spread on her face as she glanced at Veetch, and her hand curled in a tiny wave.

Veetch waved back, smiling behind his bloodied nose, and Mox crouched next to Mayday, extending a hand to Eva.

“You were very brave,” he told her, giving her a reassuring smile as she took his hand. He stood, glancing at Mayday with a nod that told him ‘I’ve got this’, before starting to lead Eva back to her friends. “Well done for raising the alarm.”

“Your brother is really good at swimming.” She hesitated on the word brother, like she was still learning to understand what linked all the clones.

“We have to be,” Mox told her with a smile. “Kamino, where we grew up, is all ocean. We had to know what do to if someone fell in.”

“Think you’ve got a new fan,” Hexx joked gently, giving Veetch’s wet hair a fond ruffle. “Alright, hero of the hour, let’s get you off the beach and mopped up.”

“I didn’t mean for him to be frightened of me,” said Veetch, a little subdued, but Mayday clasped a reassuring hand to his shoulder.

“It sounds like those kids have been through a lot. As much as we have, most likely. Don’t take it personally.” Pausing to retrieve his smoothie, they turned to start heading back towards the docks buildings which had been converted into refugee housing for the clones. “Anyway, after that display of heroics, I’m sure Echo will be even keener for you to join their Resistance.”

Veetch’s eyes lit up. “We’re going?” he said hopefully, immediately brighter.

Mayday gave a grim smile and nodded.

“Haven’t got it in me to turn my back on a brother in need,” he said, glancing at Hexx who nodded his support. “And we can’t let you go without us.”

Veetch grinned, throwing one arm round each of their shoulders. The three of them walked together, the younger clone supported by his two older brothers, heading slowly back along the sand.

“It’s like I said,” murmured Mayday softly, tilting his face up to the sky. “Brothers stick together. I told you I was requesting you for my squad, wherever we end up.” Something wistful crossed his face, before he squeezed Veetch’s shoulders hard. “Can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, than with you boys.”

Hexx grinned. “Sun’s gone to your head. You’re getting soppy.”

Veetch laughed at their banter, pulling them both close.

“It’s us three. Forever.” “Forever,” echoed Hexx and Mayday, as the three of them walked into their future.

#summerofbadbatch2024 #week9 #hold still #week11 #yeah kid we're fine #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb mayday #commander mayday #clone trooper veetch #clone trooper hexx #mox stak and deke #eva sami and jax #pabu #beach days on pabu

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fwitolei · 1 year ago

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Cold - Bad Batch Oneshot

Summary: Mayday and his men find it difficult to withstand the harsh conditions of Barton 4.

Word Count: 812

Original Character: Canvas, Checkmate, Flame

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Mayday gritted his teeth as another gust of freezing wind tore through his armor. It was another freezing night on Barton 4, just like the night he and his squad first landed on this planet. The Empire had ordered that they protect a shipment of precious cargo, for the contents of the crates were imperative for the Empire’s growth. Mayday didn’t know whether to fully believe that, considering he didn’t know exactly what he was protecting.

There were many variables to this operation, from the subzero temperatures and hostile creatures to malfunctioning equipment that insurgents used to their advantage to get the upper hand. It seemed like every week rebels were sneaking into the outpost, stealing cargo, and killing clones to the point where Mayday had to set up a schedule determining who would stay at the outpost’s edge on watch and for how long. Shifts were getting longer as he lost more men, and he didn’t know how long before they were all killed off.

“Commander,” Veetch’s voice blared through Mayday’s helmet. “Commander, come in!”

“What is it?” Mayday answered, jamming his finger into the loose comm button at his ear. His voice cracked with lack of use, his mouth dry. He made a mental note to check the water filter back at base.

“It’s Canvas. I think… I think he’s dying.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Mayday’s chest tightened as he sighed, the cold air freezing his lungs. “I’m headed in now.”

Mayday trudged through the snow, the icy ground swallowing his legs with every step. He switched to a public channel and said, “Back to base, men. Something’s up with Canvas.”

A flurry of acknowledgments filled Mayday’s helmet. He looked up to see three other clones tramping toward base, some shaking the snow from their armor. One trooper bounded toward Mayday, asking, “What’s with Canvas? Is he okay?”

Checkmate. Mayday placed a hand on the clone’s shoulder and said “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just sick again. He’ll push though, he always does.”

Mayday didn’t have to see Checkmate’s face to know the trooper wasn’t so sure. Flame and Hexx caught up to them, and the four clones entered the base together. The stronghold was dark inside, with stacks upon stacks of crates almost reaching the ceilings. A protocol droid walked by, carrying cargo here and there. The four clones found Veetch standing beside Canvas, who was bundled up in a multitude of ponchos and stray cloth.

“I did the best I could, Commander,” Veetch said, his voice strained. “But I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

Murmurs drifted through the room as Mayday’s men whispered amongst themselves. Checkmate balled his hands into fists, turning to the nearest protocol droid. “You! Come here, he needs a medic!”

The protocol droid froze in his tracks and stared at Checkmate. “I am not a medical droid. It is not part of my programming.”

“Then find someone—!” Mayday cut Checkmate off with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Check,” Mayday said, locking his gaze on his brother. Checkmate stared at Mayday, then at the protocol droid.

“But—”

“There’s nothing we can do except send him off. We’d be doing more harm keeping him alive.”

Checkmate shuddered from something other than the cold. Mayday gently led him back to the others, who were surrounding the dying clone. “Commander?” Canvas shuttered. He raised his hand an inch from the blanketed mound he lay on, only for it to fall limp at his side. Mayday took Canvas’s arm, squeezing his hand.

“You’re gonna be alright, brother,” Mayday said. “It’s just a cold.”

A weak chuckle escaped Canvas’s lips. “No kidding, Commander. Is… Is backup here?”

“They’re coming,” Mayday answered. He saw Checkmate step forward in his peripheral, moving to grab Canvas’s other hand, but Flame held him back. Hexx placed a hand on Checkmate’s shoulder as the tears streamed down Checkmate’s face. Checkmate had been assigned to Mayday’s squad along with Canvas, and they spent every waking moment looking out for each other. It was always hard for Checkmate when a brother left him, but this one might hit hardest.

“Commander…” Canvas started again, attempting to sit up. His elbow slipped out from beneath him, and he fell back with a grunt. “Commander, I—”

“Easy, soldier,” Mayday said. Checkmate sobbed behind him. He’s so weak. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“My drawings…” Canvas strained. He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as a small smile played on his lips. “My drawings… give them to Checkmate, yeah?”

“Sure thing, shiny,” Mayday answered, tears welling up in his eyes. Canvas’s chest fell slowly as Mayday pressed his fingers to Canvas’s wrist. No pulse.

Mayday placed Canvas’s hand on the shiny’s chest before standing. The other five clones watched as he lifted a hand to his face and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Sure thing.”

Canvas, Checkmate, and Flame are original clone characters I came up with for the sake of the story since we only saw Hexx and Veetch in 2x12 “The Outpost". Feel free to use them in your own stories/art/whatnot, but make sure you credit me :P

#the bad batch oneshots #tbb oneshots #the bad batch #tbb #tbb oc #tbb oc checkmate #tbb oc flame #tbb oc canvas #tbb mayday #tbb veetch #tbb hexx #star wars #fanfic #fandom #writing community #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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griffedeloup · 5 months ago

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Oh my, this is the first fanfic I see that is including Vetch and Hexx, usually, I see more about Mayday (and fanfics about him are a bit rare too) so I'm very happy to read about them, thank you for writting it 💚

Veetch x reader with the prompt "You're safe now"?? Maybe something where Mayday and his men (including crosshair cuz he will forever deserve a happy ending) are finally rescued from Barton IV. Whether they're saved by Imperials or rebels is up to you.

Safe And Sound

Summary: As a member of the Rebellion, you’re often sent to random places without much notice. Still, you never expected to spend your Name Day on an ice ball in the middle of nowhere. And then the galaxy gives you the greatest Name Day present.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Veetch x F!Reader

Word Count: 2742

Warnings: Some angst, but there's a happy ending

A/N: This made me weepy in some places, just as a warning

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Once upon a time, you had the greatest boyfriend.

Veetch was slow to anger and quick with a laugh. Was always there with a willing ear to listen to your troubles, and a strong shoulder when you needed to cry. He used to cup your face between his hands and tell you that it was amazing that he could hold the galaxy in the palms of his hands.

He had always been so gentle with you, careful fingers tracing your lips, the bridge of your nose, your eyelids. It was like he needed to prove to himself that he was capable of being gentle.

And he loved you. Oh, how he loved you. It was in every touch of his hand against your body, every press of his lips against yours, every whisper of your name in the dead of night.

Your Veetch had been so strong and so steady, that you believed that nothing could hurt him. How could it? Veetch was like a mountain, unyielding in the face of everything thrown at him.

Yet even the strongest mountains don’t last forever.

When the Purge happened, you had been visiting family. You watched the news while your little brother clung to you. You listened to report after report of how the Clones saved the Republic by putting an end to the treacherous Jedi, and you doubted.

And yet, even then, you still believed in Veetch. He would be fine. He had to be fine.

He’s Veetch.

And yet, as days turned to weeks and then months, and Veetch never contacted you that hope you carried in your heart began to wither like a rose in the winter.

Part of you hopes that he died in the Purge. It’s a horrible thought, but the idea of your Veetch, your gentle and loving Veetch, becoming an Imperial Solider, or worse a Purge Trooper, makes your heart clench painfully.

“Hey! Ace!” You’re jerked out of your increasingly depressed thoughts about Veetch, to look at the man standing in the doorway, “You got orders,”

“I was told that I have today off,” You counter. It’s your Name Day, after all. You had planned to spend the day mourning lost friends, and remembering what Veetch had done for your last Name Day.

“Yeah, I know.” He smirks at you, “They originally gave me the mission, but I’m sick.”

“You’re full of shit is what you are,”

His smirk widens, “If you wanted me to be nice, you should have agreed to date me.”

“Not even if you were the last man alive,” You snap, before you dismiss him outright, knowing that it will only make him angrier. Whatever, it’s not your job to manage his delicate ego.

You stand and your shoulder roughly bumps his as you walk through the door, “You know, Ace, you might be a good pilot, but you have a shit personality.”

“Good thing I don’t have to pilot my ship with my personality then,” You counter irritably.

“You’re gonna regret not being nicer to the people around you.” He adds, desperate to have the final word.

“I highly doubt that,” You say as you step onto the lift and press the button that will bring you to Ops. The door to the lift shuts before he can say anything to you, and you’re glad for it.

If he had insisted on continuing the argument, you might have become mean. Like, for real mean, and not the indifferent mean that you are normally.

The door slides open several moments later, and you step into Ops.

Ops is a large room, brightly lit, and filled with various monitors and monitoring stations. There are well over a dozen men and women working in Ops, managing different missions across the Republic. This place, right here, is the heart of the Rebellion.

You move to the side, to keep from being run over by a rust-colored Wookie who has their face pressed against a datapad, and then you slide between a Nautolan and a Mon Cala who seem to be having a deep argument in the middle of the walking path.

You finally make it to the leader of Ops, a Weequay woman who, rumor has it, was once a Jedi. She might very well have been, she’s definitely calm enough for it.

“I’m here boss,”

The woman glances at you out of the corner of her eye, and favors you with a tiny smile, “I know I promised you the day—”

“It’s fine,” You shrug, “What’s the job?”

She watches you for a moment longer, and then nods, “Pick-up, over on Barton IV.”

“That ice ball?” You make a face, “This isn’t another Hoth scenario, is it?”

“No. We didn’t lose a transport this time,” She reassures, “There’s an Imperial Outpost, I want you to grab anything you can from there.”

You quirk a single brow, “Infiltration isn’t really my thing, Boss.”

“I know, we’ve been keeping an eye on it, and I doubt there’s anyone there. The base hasn’t received shipments in about a year. If there are any survivors, rescue them and bring them to one of the neutral space stations.”

This time both of your brows raise, “You sure?”

She nods once, decisively, “Very sure. I won’t leave people to die if I can help it.”

“Well, you’re the boss, Boss. I’ll take a ship registered to Corellia then.”

She nods, “May the Force be with you.”

You sigh, “Boss if you don’t want people to peg you as a Jedi, maybe don’t say shit like that.”

Your Boss just grins, “Who says I don’t want people to know?”

You release a second, heavier, sigh. Then you wave and turn to head toward the lift that will bring you to the hanger. If you’re lucky the Corellia Class freighter will be available.

Barton IV is, quite possibly, the worst planet Veetch has ever been on. And, after a year of living here, he’s quite sure that he’s allowed to have an opinion on living here.

It’s cold, there’s never enough food, and he’s fairly certain this place is haunted by the spirits of fallen vod’e.

Though, that might be the hunger talking.

They have managed to turn one of the bunks into a relatively warm place for them to sleep. There are only four of them now, so it’s pretty easy to keep this room warm enough for them to bunk together.

He wonders if it makes him a bad person that he’s glad that most of his brothers marched ahead already. He wouldn’t want any of them to suffer like he is right now.

Slowly Veetch presses his arm over his eyes. His brothers are already asleep, but he just can’t seem to rest.

Of course, he knows why he can’t sleep.

It’s the day.

Today is her Name Day.

Veetch squeezes his eyes shut under his arms, and her face swims into view. A bright smile on her face, her hands clasped under her chin. Veetch! You didn’t have to do all of this for me!

He misses her.

He misses her warmth. Her smile. The way her eyes crinkled at the corner when she was truly happy. The way she tapped her foot when she was annoyed.

He even missed the way that she would apply her make-up in the morning, and the way that she would drag him to go window shopping on her days off.

But, what he missed more than anything, was how she would light up the moment she saw him. Even if he was tired, sweaty, and in a bad mood. Even if he still had blood on his armor. Even if he felt like a monster.

She would light up, call his name, and everything bad would vanish like smoke on a windy day.

If he was with her today…he would have made her favorite breakfast. Waffles with bacon and a cup of caf. They would cuddle together on the couch while eating breakfast and would watch a bad movie just to make fun of the bad acting. And then, while she got ready for the day, he would clean the kitchen.

Then he would have taken her to the library or to the aquarium, depending on the weather, and she would thread her fingers with his as she tugged him from one thing to the next.

And he would pepper kisses all across her face until she’s flustered and giggling, and her fingers are curled around the material of his shirt.

A muscle in Veetch’s jaw clenches.

Force, he misses her so much. He should have called her. Why didn’t he call her?

It’s a stupid question. He knows why he didn’t call her.

At first, it was because of orders, and then, as time went on, it was because he didn’t— doesn’t— want her to see him like this. He’s not dumb…or blind for that matter. He knows that she damn near hero-worshipped him.

She’d be disappointed if she saw him now. A scruffy five o’clock shadow, curls longer than they’ve ever been in his life and sticking up in random directions, and bruises covering the majority of his body.

He doesn’t look anything like the steady soldier she knew.

Veetch freezes when the base proximity alarm blares, and he sits up immediately. He’s not the only one.

Across the room, Mayday rolls off his bunk and lands on his feet, his gaze serious, “Veetch, get the monitors on,”

“Copy that, Commander.”

He rolls off the bed as well and crouches near the wall of monitors, activating each one manually. Each monitor is connected to a camera, not the most high-tech, but it’s the best they can do with what’s available to them.

“Here, Commander. The hanger bay,”

The four men watch as the hanger bay opens wide enough to let the person on the other side slide under the door. They then stand and pull a flashlight out of their flight suit.

The first thing Veetch notices is that the intruder is a woman. Even the winter flight suit she’s wearing doesn’t do much to hide her curves.

“That’s not an insurgent,” Crosshair notes, “They don’t wear orange.”

“They’re also not women,” Hexx adds, before he looks at Mayday, “What do you think?”

Mayday is quiet for a moment, and then he slowly nods, “I think we should go say hello.”

The four men pull their armor on and slowly make their way through frigid, poorly lit, halls until they reach the hanger. And the intruder's voice reaches Veetch’s ears.

Her voice is familiar.

Achingly familiar.

“—Come on, boss. I know what the information said,” The woman sounds annoyed as she opens crates, peers into them, and then shuts them again, “But I’m telling you, there’s nothing here.”

There’s silence for a moment, she’s likely listening to someone on the other end, and the four men step into the hanger properly.

Veetch’s heart aches when he sees her. He’d know her anywhere, wearing anything.

She sighs, “Don’t you Ace me, you irritating little cabbage,” She snaps, “I’m well aware that everyone wants to think that the Empire is made of incompetent dunderheads, but obviously they’re not because there’s nothing here.”

She’s silent again.

“What?! No! I’m not defining dunderhead for you, you have a computer, look it up!”

She straightens, and her posture changes.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be real professional when I get back to base and shove my boot so far up your ass that you’ll be tasting them. I’m closing the comm now. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

Veetch watches as she irritably presses a button and shoves her comm in a pocket, and the tiniest smile crosses his face. Her temper has gotten worse since the last time he saw her, she’s adorable.

Hexx swears as he accidentally kicks a metal bar, and she whips around, the beam of her flashlight immediately finding them. There’s silence for a moment, and then she sets her fist on her hip, “And who are you supposed to be, knock-off mummies?”

The silence continues for a moment, and then Veetch releases a snort of laughter. He has to quickly mute his vocoder, but he’s not the only one. Hexx is also shaking with laughter, and Mayday is shaking his head.

If he wasn’t wearing his helmet, Veetch would put credits on there being an amused smile on his brother’s face.

“I remember you being nicer, princess,” The Commander says.

She’s silent for a moment, and then the beam of light drops to Mayday’s chest, and a wide range of emotions cross what little of her face can be seen. Though her expression finally settles on sheepish embarrassment as she pushes her goggles up, “Mayday,” The light moves across Crosshair, and then over to Hexx, “Hexx, and—” The beam of light finally lands on him, “—Veetch.”

He knows he didn’t imagine the pause before his name. And, as he pulls his helmet off, her pretty eyes linger on his face for a moment, “Hey there, sunshine.”

Her lips curl up in a pleased smile, “Hey yourself.” Her gaze lingers for a moment longer, and then moves back to Mayday, “Nice place you have here. Digging the abandoned Haunted House ambiance.”

Mayday smiles at her, “What brings you to this part of the galaxy?”

Her gaze slides across the four men for a moment, and then she glances around at the worn-down hanger, “Well, I’ve come to bring you to safety if you want.”

“You…what?” Crosshair sounds stunned, “NatBorns don’t care about clones.”

“You’d be surprised at how untrue that is.” She shrugs, and slides her flashlight back in her pocket, “My ship is just outside. Are you coming or aren’t you?”

Veetch is moving before he thinks about it.

He’d follow her anywhere, honestly, but he’d also sell his arm to get off of this planet.

The Space Station you bring the four survivors to is technically a Neutral Space Station, but it’s also a known hub for members of the Rebellion. You should have brought them to a different space station.

Your boss is going to have your head when she finds out.

But…well…it’s Veetch. It’s Veetch and Hexx and Mayday and they’re family. How could you go anywhere else?

You pace in front of Veetch’s room, trying to work up the nerve to go and see him. You’ve already visited Mayday and Hexx, you’ve even visited Crosshair to introduce yourself and make sure he didn’t need anything.

But now that you’re standing in front of Veetch’s room, you find yourself anxious.

What if things have changed? They haven’t for you. You love him as much today as you did a year ago. But what if he doesn’t feel the same anymore?

You take a deep breath to steel your nerves, and you knock, lightly, on the door. You don’t wait for a response as you push the door open and step into the room.

He’s thinner than you remember, but he’s still Veetch. And you kind of like the wild curls, you wonder if you can convince him to keep them.

Though, the stubble has to go.

“Veetch,” His name is a sigh on your lips, and his dark eyes find you immediately. Something softens in his gaze, and it’s like nothing has changed. You cross the room to him and lightly sit on the side of the bed, your fingers carding through his curls.

“You look beautiful,” Veetch murmurs, “More beautiful than I remember.”

“I’m the same as I ever was,” You reply, “I like your curls.”

“Maybe I’ll keep them,” He reaches up to cup your face, and you notice that his hands are trembling.

You press your hand over his, “How are you feeling?”

“I keep thinking that this is a dream,” He admits, “That I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.”

Slowly you lean in and press your forehead against his, “Oh, Veetch.” You murmur, “Please don’t fret. You’re safe now.”

His hands press firmer against your face, “Cyar’ika, do you still love me?”

“Silly man, I never stopped.”

“Good,” He leans in and catches your lips with his own. “I love you too.”

And, as you lose yourself in his lips and his gentle touch, it’s like the last year never happened. You know that there’s a lot that needs to be done, but for now, you’re content with just being with your Veetch.

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#tbb #the bad batch #clone trooper Veetch

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hugmekenobi · 2 years ago

Text

S2: The Bad Batch (12)

Chapter Twelve: The Outpost

Gif by @dreamswithghosts

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: Crosshair's mission for the Empire finalises what he'd feared would happen to him. Meanwhile, you and the Batch take on a tame job yet you find yourself filled with anticipatory dread but you have no sense of why.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

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

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, Lieutenant Nolan, character death, my interpretation of Crosshair's thought process, Force-related anxiety, descriptions of exhaustion, poor attempt at kidnapping, light injury descriptions, reader isn't quite on top of things, briefest instances of innuendo (it's tiny and you might not even notice it but including just in case), me making up some of Hunter's past, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.9K

Author's notes: Told you I hadn't forgotten about Crosshair lol, the poor boy goes through it. Also added my own thing to go with it and thank you to @fuckoffthanos and @arctrooper69 for helping me out with deciding how this should go! Also, @arctrooper69, loved your idea and had to incorporate it somehow but just the way other things panned out, it's a bit on the tamer side but thank you again! Hope you everyone enjoys!

He waited by the shuttle and watched. He watched the group of newly redundant clones walk past. It was the same spiel from the Imperial officer every time- “The Empire thanks you for your years of service and wishes you well on your retirement.” Like that would really make a difference.

“CT-9904?”

Yes, that was who he was to them now. Just a designation, but at least he still had a purpose here, not like the countless others he’d seen be forced out. He turned to face the lieutenant who addressed him.

“You’re out of uniform.”

Right, yes. Can’t be seen to look too different. He put his helmet on and awaited his instructions.

“I’m Lieutenant Nolan, your commanding officer for this mission. We’re heading to the Imperial Depot on Barton-4. High-value cargo stored there has been targeted by local insurgents. We’re to secure it until it’s transferred at week’s end.” Nolan paused as he heard the faint voices of the clones already in the shuttle. He let out an irritated sigh. “Fantastic. More clones.”

“Problem, sir?”

“Yes. I don’t like used equipment.” He boarded the shuttle. “Let’s go.”

Right. ‘Used equipment.’ He couldn’t afford to give that more thought. There was a mission to complete. He grabbed his sniper rifle and stepped onto the ship.

Barton-4 was an ice planet. And a hostile one at that. The cold wind howled and worked its way through to his armour and seeped into his bones, and the gusts of snow made it hard to see ahead. It was understandable how things had been going so wrong. Getting caught off guard by native insurgents in a place like this would mean the squadron here would have no chance of defending themselves successfully.

The group made their way into the main cargo haul and Nolan addressed the droids moving the shipments. “Where is your supervisor?”

“You must be our reinforcements.”

They all turned in the direction of the voice who emerged from behind one of the containers.

“We expected you 36 rotations ago. Did you get lost?” The clone asked coolly.

“We work on the Empire’s schedule, trooper, not yours.” Nolan replied.

“It’s Commander, Lieutenant.”

“Well, Commander, your orders were to guard and protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded.” He followed the clone round the corner. “Where are the rest of your men?”

“Dead.” He replied bluntly before he introduced the clones cowering round a heat lamp. “Hexx, Veetch, and I, we’re all that’s left.”

Their names. He was using their names. Not designations.

“Your failings will be dealt with later.” Nolan scolded. “For now, I am in charge here until the cargo is transported.”

“I feel safer already.” The commander drawled.

“Look here, clone, you speak to me with respect.” Nolan snapped.

“In my experience, respect is something to be earned.”

The Lieutenant sneered. “Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, were you let the majority of your squad get killed.”

The commander didn’t rise to it. “Tell me, Lieutenant, how many missions have you commanded?”

Meanwhile, he watched the interaction between these two men with hidden interest. He liked that this clone wasn’t backing down so easily.

“That’s what I thought.” The commander said as his question was greeted by silence. He addressed his group behind him. “Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” As soon as they all left, he focused his attention on the soldier in black armour that had followed the lieutenant in. “You, uh, know the lieutenant well?”

“For about two hours.” He responded.

The commander scoffed. “Two hours too long, I bet.”

He hummed in agreement and was both surprised and grateful to see his fellow clone bring over the heat lamp.

“So, what’d you do to get stuck with this mission?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” He said distantly.

The commander’s laugh turned into a sigh. “The name’s Mayday.” He looked at the clone expectantly.

He debated for a moment. It had been so long since anyone had wanted to know his name and cared enough to ask about it. “Crosshair.” It almost sounded foreign; it had been a long time since he’d had a reason to use it.

“Welcome to The Outpost.” Mayday with faux celebration. He grabbed his helmet and blaster. “I’ll give you the lay of the land.”

Nothing was out of the ordinary, the ship flew peacefully through hyperspace, with you all deciding that you were going to heed Cid’s instructions- after all she had said you shouldn’t return if you didn’t scavenge anything from the crash site so you were doing as you were told and the added benefit of not being in her employment worked things out quite nicely.

So, why as you sat on the edge of your bunk, was it that with nothing being out of the norm, you had a deep sense of dread lingering in your heart? This was the worst it had been; you had sensed it creeping in the days since the failed mission from Cid and your sleep had been very limited but you had put the cause down as being the mission and assumed it would go away. It hadn’t. And last night had been the worst. It overwhelmed you and had prevented you from sleeping entirely and the exhaustion you were feeling wasn’t helping matters. A light tapping on your leg forced you out of your head.

You glanced down to see Hunter kneeling in front of you, hand on your knee. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“What’s going on?”

“Didn’t sleep well.” You said briskly, not wanting to create a fuss.

“Something on your mind?” Hunter asked kindly. He could tell you were putting a brave face on but even that couldn’t hide the dark shadows under your eyes and the way you could barely keep your head up.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to bother him with something you couldn’t even put a cause or label on. “Is something happening?” You jutted your head in the direction of the cockpit where the others were gathered.

Hunter let your deflection pass for now. He knew you well enough to know that he couldn’t push you to talk. You would come to him when you needed it.

“Phee got in touch. She’s got a mission for us, but she needs us to get some credits from a contact first.”

“And the catch?” You asked, stifling a yawn.

“Her contact seems to have five possible addresses to keep people guessing his location.”

You nodded slowly. “Honestly was expecting worse.”

Hunter gave you a small smile. “I’d figure I’d keep Omega with me and the rest of you split to check out each of the other addresses?”

“Sounds good, Seargeant.” You said as you stood up to go to the refresher. You splashed some water on your face, and you caught a glimpse of your reflection. You did look pretty rough. Your eyes were puffy and dark circles graced the skin underneath them. Maybe a distraction from this feeling would be a good idea. There wasn’t much you could do about the tiredness expect for push through but even doing a small job might help with forgetting for a little bit.

Not only had it sounded like Mayday and his team had been hung out to dry with degraded equipment and poor support all the while protecting cargo the Empire hadn’t deemed necessary to inform them of what exactly it was, but it also hadn’t taken long for the first attack on the depot to occur since he and the rest of them had arrived.

The raiders had made it in and out fast and had caused the deaths of the rest of Mayday’s team and had stolen more cargo. The only saving grace had been that Crosshair had been able to hit one of them as they retreated, and the blood trail led to a system of ice tunnels that had allowed them to slip through undetected for months.

Upon Nolan’s request, he and Mayday had gone in search of the crates, and they started with the ice tunnel.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Hunter asked you gently as the others stepped off the ship.

You knew he was coming from a good place, but your sleep-deprived state took it as more of an insult. “Yes.” You said tetchily.

Hunter raised his hands in appeasement. “I’m just checking in.”

You exhaled wearily and ran a hand across your face. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s probably best to just leave me be for the moment.” You lifted your hood and mask up.

Hunter debated pushing the matter further, but he decided to wait until this task was over. “Okay.” He put his helmet on and let you leave the ship first.

It turned out that Wrecker had the current address and after he confirmed everything went smoothly, Hunter had said you were all to head back to the ship. You cut down an alley way that was a shortcut but also a means to avoid a public scene since you’d been followed once you’d rounded the corner from one of the contact’s alternative residences. “Please, I’m in no mood to do this today.” You said tiredly as the figure dashed in front of you, halting you in your tracks. You stared the Weequay. “What do you want?”

“How’d you know about the money? I’ve been watching that house, and I heard your comm. Where’d you find him?”

“I don’t have it.” You ignored the crux of his question.

“No, but someone you know does. And you’re going to help us get it.”

You really couldn’t be bothered with a simple kidnapping. If you were going to be threatened today, you’d rather it be a bit more interesting than this. “You know you’re not actually going to get anywhere with that plan, right?”

The Weequay simply sniggered and drew a blaster.

You sighed heavily and reached for your holster. Your entire body was slow. You’d never felt so sluggish.

And that was probably why you didn’t pick up on the ‘us’ or register the person that came from behind and smacked the butt of their blaster across the back of your head.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Wrecker said cheerily as he stepped on board and put the case down. He took his helmet off.

Hunter glanced past him. “(Y/N)’s not with you?”

Wrecker shook his head. “Was she supposed to be?”

“She’s not come back yet, and we haven’t heard from her.” Omega informed him, her own troubled face matching Hunter’s.

Hunter reached for his comm and tried for you, but he got no reply. “She wouldn’t go radio silent without being told to.”

“You guys aren’t in a fight, are you?” Wrecker asked.

Hunter shot his brother an irritated look. “No. And even if we were, she knows better than to ignore any of us if we’re checking in.”

“(Y/N), come in.” Omega tried but again was met with no response.

Both Wrecker and Tech also attempted to get in touch with you, but nothing came through.

Hunter started pacing. You wouldn’t ignore all of them. You just wouldn’t, no matter what was happening. The panic was starting to set in now. It was something he rarely did and when he did do it, he didn’t like it, but now he was thinking he should’ve pulled his rank with you and at least made you stay on the ship. He’d known you were in not shape to go out there, even if it was a simple mission, whatever you were going through and the exhaustion you were experiencing would have an effect on anyone.

“Hunter, it’s her.” Tech called over from the cockpit as the ship’s main communication control lit up. Only it wasn’t your voice that came through.

“If you want to see her again, meet us with that lovely case of credits you picked up in 30 minutes.”

“How do we know she’s with you?” Hunter asked, doing his best to keep his voice level.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Her top has half a white skull on it.”

Dammit. Hunter paid no attention to the looks the others gave him. He needed to know more. He needed to know if you were okay. “I want to hear her. For all I know, you just saw her and that was the first thing you noticed.”

The voice chuckled unkindly. “She’s currently… unavailable for speaking. If you want that to be a more permanent state, then by all means, don’t do as we say. But, if you want her back, you better be here.”

“If you’ve hurt her-”

“It’s 20 minutes now. By all means, keep talking and pissing me off if you want her to suffer but I’d suggest you start walking.”

“Wait, but where are-” Omega started to say but the transmission cut out. “How are we supposed to find her?” She addressed the others.

“They used her own comm. I can trace it easily enough.” Tech said calmly as he got to work.

“The rest of us will go over her steps.” Hunter directed before he led the way off the ship.

If it wasn’t for the throbbing radiating throughout your skull, you might’ve been grateful for being knocked out. It was the closest thing you’d had to a rest. But the resulting headache and embarrassment at being so easily caught took precedence over any relief at being able to not think about what signals the Force was trying to send you. Now that you were awake, the feeling was back.

“Ah good, you’re up.”

You ignored the voice and took in your surroundings instead. The room was dark, the only light came from the faint glow of a lantern, and you were sitting with your back to a damp wall. Your hands were tied loosely in front of you with a piece of frayed rope. It was the worst attempt at kidnapping you’d ever experienced.

“Don’t worry. We’ve been in touch with your friends. Once we have the money, we’ll let you go.”

Your eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and it was then that you saw the two Weequay men standing by the doorway. You snorted. “Yeah, I’m not all that worried.”

“Oh yeah?” The one that had originally cornered you in the alley said.

“You two really don’t do this a lot, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” The one you didn’t recognise asked.

“Kidnapping people. You two are clearly new to the game.”

“Meaning what?” The first Weequay asked suspiciously.

You released an aggravated huff. You were too tired to do this, but it was your way out of here. “Meaning if you were regulars at this, you wouldn’t have used my comm to send your demands to my team- I’m assuming that’s what you did, right?” Their anxious glance to one another gave you your answer. You continued, “Ideally, you also would tie my hands behind my back, or, at the very least, you would double check the strength of the knot.”

“Check it.” The one you had seen first ordered his companion.

Perfect. As he kneeled down in front of you, you punched him on the underside of his jaw, and he crumbled to the floor. Acting quickly, you broke your hands out of their restraints, and you fired a stun blast from his blaster to the second one, who had been too taken aback by your actions to get his blaster out in time.

You grabbed your stuff and headed for the door, but it was then you heard the faint sound of someone grunting. You were still pretty out of it so as you moved to dodge the blade, your reaction wasn’t quite fast enough. You inhaled sharply as the knife sliced the part of your forearm that wasn’t protected by your armour. It wasn’t much more than a graze, but you could feel blood slowly secreting from the wound and it stung like hell. You whipped around and fired a stun bolt to the half-collapsed figure, and he fell unconscious.

You opened the door to be greeted by three familiar faces. “Oh. Hey, what brings you all here?”

“We were coming to rescue you.” Omega said as she peered around you to see the two knocked out Weequays.

“I appreciate it, kid. I’ll save you something to do next time.” You dug deep for the smile that graced your face as you touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming after me, guys.” You said to the group.

“Did they hurt you?” Hunter asked urgently as he scanned your body for any obvious injures.

You shook your head. “Nothing major. It was my fault anyway. I completely switched off.”

“Yeah, what even happened?” Wrecker asked you.

“Don’t really wanna relive the humiliation at the moment, Wrecker.” You took a breath. “We good to go?” You asked Hunter who nodded and the four of you walked back to the Marauder.

“Tech, would you mind bringing the medkit down here?” You asked as you boarded the ship and sat down on your bunk. “Also, thanks for helping find me.”

“No thanks are necessary. Although, it was a relatively simple mission; I do not understand how this incident occurred in the first place or how you managed to injure yourself.” Tech said frankly as he pulled the medkit down and started to make his way over to you.

He was right but you were embarrassed enough to be so caught off guard like you were and you didn’t need more reminders. “Tech, what about my general demeanour right now makes you think I’m unaware of that fact?” You said through gritted teeth as you tossed your vambrace with a little too much zest judging by the way it smacked off the wall by your bed. You were doing your best to keep it together. You were determined to not let your mood affect the relationships around you.

“I only meant-”

“Tech.” Hunter warned him off calmly as he took to medpack from him. “Just get the ship in the air, okay?”

“Very well.” Tech said with a nod before he turned back for the cockpit.

Omega and Wrecker followed him.

“Do you want-” Hunter started to offer.

“I can do it myself, it’s a really small cut.” You said touchily as you held your hand out for the case.

Hunter didn’t fight you on it and he was prepared to give you space, so he handed it to you. “I’ll be in the cockpit with the others if you need me.” He risked a step forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You did feel instantly more tranquil after he did that. “I’m sorry.” You uttered quietly as he stepped away.

Hunter tenderly rubbed a thumb across your cheekbone. “Get some rest.”

Crosshair and Mayday rounded the corner of the tunnel, and the blood trail came to an end. Both their lights found the dead body of the raider hunkered against the wall.

“He didn’t get far.” Crosshair said wryly.

Mayday kneeled down to examine the body. “Not sure what bothers me more. That he’s wearing armour stolen off my men or that his cohorts just left him here.”

“No point in carrying deadweight.”

Mayday glanced back at Crosshair. “Remind me not to die on your watch.”

Crosshair didn’t pay the comment much mind. He just carried on walking past, but he didn’t get very far as he suddenly came to a complete standstill as he heard the activation click of something hidden in the snowy ground. His best chance was to not move a muscle.

“Pressure mine.” Mayday stated.

“Mm-hmm.” Crosshair nodded.

Mayday brought his light down to examine it. “What were you saying about deadweight?”

“Do you know how to disarm it?”

“I’m not an explosives expert, but since I don’t feel like carrying your body back to the outpost, I guess I’ll give it a shot.” Mayday took off his helmet and put his blaster on the ground as well as his torch- but he kept the light trained on the pressure mine- as he crouched down. He blew away the flakes of snow still covering it. “Hmm. This mine’s a little different than ones I’ve seen before, but I’m pretty sure they’re all the same. Guess we’ll find out soon enough, huh?”

It wasn’t the most comforting of statements for Crosshair to hear, but he’d take any help he could get at this point.

Mayday pulled out his tools and carefully got to work. “I wish I had the proper equipment for this, but the Empire’s ignored all my requests. I’ve learned to improvise though. I guess all clones have had to since the war. Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending…” he sighed, “… until it did.”

As Crosshair stood still on the mine and waited for Mayday to get him out of it, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander and start thinking about his old squad and how different this mission would be going. Tech would have the suitable equipment. Hunter would’ve known where to step to avoid a situation just like this and he’d have made finding these raiders look easy despite the conditions. And, even if one of them still found themselves in this position, Wrecker would’ve disarmed it with a degree of ease and sophistication people wouldn’t necessarily expect from him. While he would never admit it out loud, he was finding that he missed them. Mayday’s question to him pulled him out of his thoughts.

“What unit were you with?”

That was a question he did not want to answer. “It doesn’t matter.” He just about manged to grind out.

“Humour me. I could use the distraction.”

Well, if he wanted them both to make it out of this, he had to do what Mayday was asking of him. “Clone Force 99.”

“What happened to them?”

“They’re gone.” He replied subduedly. It wasn’t a lie. They were gone and he didn’t know where they had wound up or even if they were all still together and alive. It had been a long time now since that day on the platform on Kamino.

“And here we are, the survivors.” Mayday peered up at Crosshair. “Hmm. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments.”

If he let his mind start to drift down that path any more than he already had on occasion, then he’d lose all sense of purpose. He’d lose that purpose he was so sure this Empire would provide. “Mission’s a mission.”

Mayday chuckled sarcastically. “Yeah, I used to say the same thing.” He inspected his work and grabbed his gear before he stood up. “There. That should do it.” As he saw Crosshair start to move, spoke up swiftly. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t pick up your foot yet. Wait until I tell you, then lift it, but real slow like.” He started to walk past him. “I’ll wait around the bend. If I don’t hear a boom, then I’ll know it worked.”

“Glad your confident in your work.”

Mayday put his helmet back on as he continued to walk away. “Oh, I’m confident. I’m just not stupid. Remember, nice and slow. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

Crosshair lifted his foot and sighed in relief when there was no explosion.

The two of them made their way out the tunnel into the storm. It was then they saw the light radiating from the raider’s base and they put their plan of attack into action.

It had been going well. The enemy bas was destroyed, and they were able to reclaim the cargo. They went down to the area where the cargo had spilled. But it was then when it had started to go wrong as they both discovered what it was they were risking their lives for and what it was Mayday and his men had men had devoted their lives to defending. And… and it wasn’t worth the fight they had put in.

“Gear?” Mayday said aloud as he examined the boxes. “We’ve been risking our lives to recover equipment we could have been wearing this whole time?”

Crosshair nudged a helmet with his foot to expose the design. “It’s not clone trooper gear.” Because why would it be? They were disposable after all.

Mayday picked up a breastplate. “New toys for their shiny new military, and we get the scraps. After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed… We’re good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?”

Crosshair didn’t have an answer for him. He thought he’d been a good solider but how was that being rewarded? He couldn’t see it. If he had any lingering doubts about where his place in this Empire was, this mission was doing a good job of eradicating them. He, Mayday, and all his fellow clones weren’t valued. They weren’t worth anything to this Empire.

Suddenly, a growing rumbling echoed around them.

“Go!” Mayday ordered as he saw avalanche hurtling towards them from the mountain behind them.

They ran as fast as they could through the deep snow, but they couldn’t outrun it, the best they could do was make it past the rock ahead.

Crosshair didn’t know what happened. One minute both of them were running side by side, and the next Mayday was knocking him past the rock and letting himself get swept up by the snow first which meant he smashed into the rockface.

Crosshair’s helmet was knocked away and the best he could do was take a deep breath as the snow smothered him.

Crosshair punched a hand through the top of the snow before his head followed and he breathed in the cold air. His entire body was numb and shivering but he couldn’t dwell on that for too long since he’d caught sight of Mayday’s helmet a few metres ahead. He heaved his way through the waist deep snow towards it and started to desperately dig through to find his companion.

It was after a few moments that Mayday’s face came into view, but his eyes were shut, and his body was limp as Crosshair propped him against the rock behind him. “Mayday? Mayday, wake up!” The faint groan from Mayday’s mouth was enough of an indicator that he was alive… that there was hope for him. “Come on. We have to move.”

Mayday’s eyes flickered open. “Go.” He gasped. “I won’t make it.”

Crosshair didn’t know what possessed him to grab Mayday’s helmet and put it back on his head. All he knew now as he supported Mayday’s body was that it was something he had to do. He had to make sure they both made it back and Mayday would survive. He was going to get them both through the storm.

Hunter came back from the cockpit to see everyone else asleep but you. You were perched on the edge of your bunk looking utterly shattered and anything but relaxed. You still had all your gear on, minus the one vambrace you’d taken off to tend to your cut earlier. “Sweetheart, you need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t.” You mumbled, utterly defeated, as you brought your head down to lean against his shoulder.

Hunter rested his head on top of yours. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I can’t because I don’t know.” You sighed deeply and pushed your face into the crook of his neck. “I’m just so tired.”

“What can I do?” Hunter asked softly.

“Knock me out until we rendezvous with Phee.” You suggested, only half kidding.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, but we can keep it as an option.” Hunter said lightly. “Come on.” He gently nudged you up, ignoring your slight groan of protest. He went to the ground in front of you.

“Okay, but I’m pretty tired, can’t promise I’ll be super enthusiastic.” You attempted levity but your tone was too flat.

“Hush you.” Hunter said with a slight grin. He got to work on taking your boots off before he came to sit next you. He started to delicately take your remaining armour off before he reached for the ends of your first layer. “Arms up.” He prompted tenderly.

Your arms felt heavy, but you did as he asked and he brought it up and over your head, taking care to not let you get caught in the material. “Now what?” You asked drearily.

“Now you lie down and close your eyes.”

“You know, I have tried doing that.” You said drily.

Hunter gave you an imploring look. “Just trust me, okay?”

You did and so you found yourself lying back down.

Hunter enveloped you. He rubbed, light, soothing patterns across your arms and back. He could feel how tense you were. He kept his voice quiet and low to create as restful an environment as he could for you. “I want you to focus on me. Nothing else. Nothing else matters. It’s just you and me here right now. Switch off. Focus on my voice. Focus on my heartbeat. Breathe with me.” He stared taking slow, deep breaths whilst continuing his peaceful touches. “It’s just us. I’m right with you. You don’t have to think about anything else. I love you. I’ll always be right here.”

You did as he asked. His hands were warm- if a little rough- against your arms but years of wielding a blaster would have that effect and you welcomed that feeling. It reminded you of all that he had survived, of what you all had survived and that he was there with you. Deep breaths. He’s here. He’s okay. Everyone’s okay. Shut it off. You thought to yourself. You mirrored his breathing and continued to listen to his words.

As the minutes grew longer and you continued to listen to him, you felt yourself start to relax into him. Your eyes grew heavy, and it was easier to keep them shut this time. How’d you know how to do this so well?

“Growing up with enhanced senses had its difficulties. I had to learn how to manage it.” He felt you nuzzle closer to him, and a deep sigh left your body. “There you go” He murmured as he kept caressing your body. “Keep breathing with me.”

Things felt easier now as you focused on him, on his scent, on the feeling of his hands on your body, on his breathing. And the last thing you remembered was you telling him you loved him and the kiss to the top of your head from him before you drifted off.

Crosshair staggered onto the main platform of the outpost and fell to his knees. He tried to be as gentle as he could when it came to putting Mayday down.

“About time you two returned.” Nolan said harshly as he approached the two men.

“He-” Crosshair broke off with an exhausted pant before he removed Mayday’s helmet. “He needs a medic.”

Nolan ignored him. “I see you didn’t retrieve the crates, which means you’ve failed your mission.”

How could that be all he was concerned about? “Did you hear what I said? Help him!” Crosshair begged as he could feel the pain and weariness creeping into his own body, but Mayday needed the help first. He had to be saved.

“Certainly not. That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

“He’ll- He’ll die.” Did they truly not care? And it was then he heard one last pained cough from Mayday before his eyes shut and he fell silent. Crosshair searched for a pulse but found none. No. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire.” Nolan said unsympathetically.

Crosshair could feel white hot anger start to rise within him. “You- You could have saved him!”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. He is expendable, as are you.”

And there it was. Confirmation of the doubt he had been trying so hard to deny. Hunter had been right. They were only ever numbers.

“And if you speak to me again with such disrespect, I’ll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.” Nolan continued disdainfully.

Crosshair caught the sight of the shadow of one of the ice vultures. He knew they were coming for Mayday. But it shouldn’t be here for him.

“Now, leave him and get back to work… while you’re still useful.” Nolan started to walk back to the shuttle.

Crosshair looked up to the sky and started at the circling bird. He’d thought he’d found a way to survive on his own too but that had changed. He was supposed to have this incredible ability to see things others couldn’t. How had he been so blind for so long? Well, no more. He’d had enough. He wasn’t concerned about the consequences he would face with what he was about to do. All he knew was that he wouldn’t give this Empire anything more.

He got unsteadily got to his feet and trained his blaster on the retreating back on Lieutenant Nolan. “Lieutenant.” He didn’t hesitate and the shot went straight through Nolan’s chest as soon as he turned around. It was after that final act that he finally let the exhaustion and agony take him and his sight went dark.

You awoke with a start and sat up. Things had been going well but that was a new development. You rested a hand on your chest as you felt your heart pounding. You shivered. You were cold, both outwardly and inwardly. There was a deep chill in your veins that left you feeling frozen and unsettled. You took a few deep breaths to settle yourself.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter rasped; his voice still thick with sleep as he sat up alongside you and laid his hand on your back.

“I don’t know.” You murmured uneasily as you fiddled with the bandage on your arm. “Something woke me up. There was this cold shadow and all I could feel was fear and pain, but I couldn’t see what from or who.”

“It was just a bad dream.” Hunter comforted. He kissed the back of your shoulder. “Come on, you should try to get back to sleep.”

“Right… a bad dream.” You whispered distantly as you let him lay you back down. Whatever it was that had woken you up, it felt real, it wasn’t just a bad dream, you were experiencing what someone else was going through but you didn’t have a face to put to the feeling and you didn’t know what it could be. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of Hunter’s arm draped over you, holding you close, but you couldn't shake the feeling like there was something more to what just happened and so sleep didn’t easily come this time around.

Crosshair woozily came around to the sound of equipment beeping. He didn’t recognise where he was, and it was then he heard the muffled sound of someone addressing him.

“Hello, CT-9904. Or do you prefer, Crosshair?”

His name. She was using his name. The woman that was speaking to him seemed to be some kind of doctor. “Where am I?” He asked wearily.

“I’m holding you for observation. Once you’ve healed, the doctor will come for you.”

She was holding a needle to his neck, yet she wasn’t the primary medic? “Who- Who are you?”

“Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive.” That was all he registered before the needle pierced his skin and he fell into darkness once more.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @starwarsnerd111,

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch s2 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter xreader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #angst #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort

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inkybyl · 2 months ago

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It’s 4AM and I’ve just had a bloody idea regarding Crosshair in the Modern Batch AU (Ramble)

(Not the most original but omdhakabajdj I have to write it down and ramble before I fall asleep and forget, yknow what I mean?)

Tagging @sp4wnofch40s & @clonethirstingisreal because y’all have a talent for literally deciphering anything I say whenever I post anything about this 🤣 (that, and I can’t help but tag you both bc it’s so much fun talking about this with you 👉👈🫶)

I might make a dedicated navigation list for this AU, I’m having waaaayy too much fun with this and wanna keep up with what I’m waffling about

In the Modern AU of the bad batch (⚠️this will contain names and roles of characters that may Spoil The Bad Batch!!⚠️) I’ve come up with a few wholesome things and general dynamics that have an easy translation between Star Wars canon, and this alternate universe idea.

However I just thought of another, but before that, quick context I’ve mentioned in other posts:

All the clone boys are raised in a group home run by Shaak Ti & Plo Koon after they wanted to be the sole guardians of all the clones. Keeping in line with CF99’s canon relationship with the Regs, their relationship with the other clone boys led to constant fights - so Hunter took them out of that and left school to start working so they could have a place for themselves. Older brothers like Rex & Cody, etc keep an eye on them and help them in anyway they can.

(In this AU, I kinda want the boys to be different ages, if they do have different ages it would look like this: When Omega arrives, she’s 5. Crosshair & Tech are 13. Wrecker is 17, and Hunter is 19. These are also the ages when Wrecker gets hurt, a few months before Omega arrives. Important to note, after the events of the idea spoken about below 👇 about 5 years would’ve gone past, as that will line up slightly with Omega & Crosshair’s interactions like in the canon. She will be 10 & Crosshair will be 18 or 19)

The new addition of context ideas:

But the agreement with the council/ government states that once a clone leaves the home or turns 18 they lose any and all legal authority over them. So if one of the clone boys got into trouble after they’ve grown up/injured as an adult - Shaak Ti and Plo Koon can’t do anything about it. (Another subtle system put in place to wash out the clone boys as they grow up, essentially casting them to the streets and stuff)

The actual idea I just had but needed to make sure I could connect the dots with the early ideas I already had:

Any clones that are disobedient get sent to military school, funded by Tarkin and run by Hemlock.

Crosshair hasn’t adapted to Omega being dropped on them very well, despite it being 5 years since she’s been a part of their family, and he’s started acting out a lot more, causing more fights, threatening more people while battling a raging superiority and/or inferiority complex.

(This next bit is very much under construction because I’m not sure how I’d like this to work out: Crosshair meets mayday around this time period and they’re the same age, if not then Mayday is probably a year or two older, and he starts spending a lot of time with him instead of at home - Mayday isn’t a trouble maker and he’s quite similar to Hunter where he took his squad and made a house a home for them all - he’s acting as a symbolism of what CF99 might’ve looked like if they weren’t defective - Hunter would’ve stayed in school like mayday, and would’ve been able to help his brothers out with a lot more things if that makes sense? Crosshair hangs out with Mayday, but mayday isn’t a troublemaker.

One day while Crosshair is chilling out with Mayday, Hexx & Veetch, (Lieutenant) Nolan starts harassing and laughing at them with his rich boy posse. ((This next bit is very much in the works)) But because Mayday is employed by Nolan’s father (a government official) and even though he’s in a higher position than the wee shite, he doesn’t say much and just shrugs it off.

Eventually the harassment gets significantly worse and Mayday is jumped by Nolan’s gang and is sent to the hospital. Crosshair then bugs out and beats the whole gang up, including Nolan. He’s caught by police and due to Nolan’s status as an official’s son, Cross is then taken to the military school to get him back in line. )) <— End the ‘under construction idea’

Military School idea

After Crosshair was causing too much chaos with fights + beating up Nolan, Governor Tarkin ordered for him & some other clone boys that had went ‘rogue’, and since they weren’t underage/ under Shaak Ti/Plo Koon’s supervision anymore - there’s nothing they could do to get them back.

(In the eyes of the government, it would just be seen as two strangers trying to claim back an adult if that makes sense?)

At the military school he’s then treated horrendously, like the other clones that are brought there, under the guise of “discipline”, hence the links with the canon trauma. (As this is a modern AU and even though I love me some corrupted experimentation storylines, I think it’s probably better to stick with adults in positions of authority abusing that power. AKA, Hemlock)

Anyways, after some more brainstorming I’ll need to figure out a way to get Omega and Crosshair to meet again cos she’s the one who manages to break his shell like in the show and takes care of him, like she does in the show.

But yeah!

Sorry if this is so scattered, I’ve literally been struggling to sleep and this popped to mind, so I had to write the ideas out as soon as they came! Everything’s still a rough idea, and all an’ all, a very fun concept to play with!!

Hopefully it’s legible 🤣🤣 I’m having so much fun playing with all of these concepts and ideas, I haven’t proofread this so sorry if anything is a bit confusing!! Gonna try n fall asleep listening to some Daz Black now

🫶✨🩵

#ramble #the bad batch #the bad batch modern au #modern au #star wars #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #star wars tbb #tbb hemlock #tbb #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #my art #tbb omega

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arcsimper5 · 1 year ago

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The Return Missing Scene - I'm Sorry

A quick angsty drabble concerning Crosshair's reaction to event in The Return.

Spoilers for Bad Batch Season 3, Episode 5 (and prior).

No warnings except huge amounts of angst (and very little comfort).

“Crosshair?”

The sniper let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes, fighting against the emotions swelling inside him.

Kneeling in front of the crate which now displayed Mayday’s battered helmet, along with those of Hex, Veetch and the other troopers the Commander had served with, he felt Batcher’s wet nose as she nuzzled his hand where it rested on his thigh, nudging him in a comforting manner.

“Omega,” he responded eventually. His voice was wavering, too quiet, tone too tight.

The young girl silently stepped towards him, dropping to her knees next to him, mirroring his position as he looked back up at the helmets, focusing on Mayday’s.

He’d wanted to tell them, he really had. Even seeing the outpost again had the words clawing up his throat, desperate to be heard. He wanted to tell them about Mayday, about how he’d saved his life, about how hard he’d fought, about how the Empire had betrayed them both.

But Hunter already thought he was dangerous. And dangerous was better than weak.

Would he even believe that he, Crosshair, had befriended a reg? That he’d fought for hours in the bitter cold, through snow and hail and biting winds to bring them back, to try and save his life?

Of course he wouldn’t. He still saw him as nothing more than a murderer. A traitor. The reason Tech was dead.

He didn’t say it, but the glare that narrowed his gaze, the way it flicked pointedly to Crosshair whenever their fallen brother was mentioned, was evidence enough.

“Who were they?”

Omega’s soft question broke him out of his downward spiral, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, fighting the lump forming there.

“The solders who manned this outpost,” he forced out quickly, fighting the tears welling in his eyes with every fibre of his being, “they were killed.”

“Oh.”

Omega’s response surprised him a little. He’d expected more questions, pointed ones. Ones like ‘did you kill them?’ Instead, she remained silent, turning her gaze to the helmets, taking in the details of them.

Guilt and grief scrabbled inside his chest as he waited for another question, another accusation, anything, getting nothing in return. Instead, Omega simply bowed her head, closing her eyes as she adopted the same pose he had been in when she found him, a simple gesture of respects being paid.

The sight broke Crosshair, a single tear slipping down his cheek as he swallowed again, his hands tightening into fists.

“Mayday,” he croaked, drawing Omega from her reverie, “the one at the front. His name, it was Mayday.”

She simply nodded to indicate she’d heard him, waiting for him to continue.

“We were sent to retrieve supplies,” he murmured, unsure where this urge to tell her was coming from. Unable to stop, he simply let it all flow, the hurt becoming more and more raw as he spoke, “under a Lieutenant called Nolan. The locals attacked, and his other men were killed. We were sent on a suicide mission to get some stolen crates back.”

Memories flitted through his head, as vivid as the day they were made. He could still feel the cold through his armour, hear the ‘click’ of the mine he’d stepped on in the cavernous tunnels below the mountain, smell the old leather of the extra layers Mayday wore.

“We tracked them, got the supplies, but… there was an avalanche. We were caught in it. He… saved my life.”

Admitting it was like dunking his head under ice cold water, more tears following the track made by the first, welling under his chin and splashing onto his gloved hand below.

He remembered the roar of the wall of snow, the pressure, Mayday’s shouted warning and the shove of his shoulder, moving him out of the path of the mass.

“He wanted me to leave him, but I… couldn’t. We walked for two rotations, through the snow. Finally made it… back here. He was almost dead. Nolan refused to help him. So I shot him.”

It was all he could bear to tell her. Nothing could possibly soothe the memories of having Mayday huddled against him for warmth, of the way Nolan sneered down at him as he was dying, the way he spoke of them like they were nothing more than droids. It made his stomach twist awfully, nausea overwhelming him.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take another moment in that room, surrounded by the memories of the last true friend he ever made, he felt arms wrap around his shoulders, his breath hitching.

“I’m so sorry, Crosshair.”

The dam inside him broke, a choked sob escaping him as Omega pulled him into her lap, cradling his head and stroking his shoulder.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

Mayday’s words rang in his head over and over.

“We were good soldiers. We followed orders, and for what?”

For what, indeed. Crosshair knew, outside this room, there were three of his brothers who didn’t trust him because of what he’d done for the Empire, another lost forever because of his belated realisation that Hunter had been right all along.

“All you’ll ever be to them is just another number.”

Omega held him tighter as he gasped for breath, every regret he’d ever had spilling onto the floor of the cold storage room, beneath the gaze of Mayday’s helmet.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, to no-one in particular. He knew Mayday was long gone, there was no way he would hear it, but he felt it in his gut, that he could have done more, than he should have realised sooner, “I’m sorry.”

Omega shushed him and continued to rock him gently, glancing up when she saw a flash of movement by the door. Shaking her head, she returned her attention to Crosshair as Hunter slipped from the doorway, his own expression twisted with regret.

“It’s going to be okay, Crosshair,” she reassured him as Batcher shuffled towards them, wrapping her large, warm body around Crosshair’s trembling form, whimpering in concern, “I promise you. We’ll avenge him. We’ll avenge all of them.”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb s3 #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers #bad batch fanfic #missing scene fic #tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #omega bad batch

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eclec-tech · 1 year ago

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This hits hard.

5화

#the bad batch #commander mayday #clone trooper hex #clone trooper veetch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb spoilers #bad batch season 3

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eriexplosion · 1 year ago

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MOVING FROM SOME EASY EPISODES TO THE HARDEST. OUTPOST.

Do y'all remember the hype for this episode like we knew it was THE Crosshair episode and everyone was absolutely thirsting for it.

"A new friend is made on a harsh and unforgiving outpost planet" WHO WROTE THIS SUMMARY?

Like yes technically accurate as it doesn't specify that the new friend survives the friendship.

Crosshair clearly paying much more attention to the regs these days, at this point I do think he's pretty much had all his bullshit beaten out of him when it comes to thinking he's better than anyone else. Just in time for Crosshair's Worse Time Parade to start.

Much like Hemlock, Lieutenant Nolan is established as absolute garbage the instant he sees Crosshair taking like two seconds to breathe out of his helmet and tells him he's out of uniform. If The Bad Batch can do one thing it's write a man that sucks.

AND THEN HE MAKES IT WORSE WITH "I DON'T LIKE USED EQUIPMENT"

Literally would kill this man myself and he's been on screen for 30 seconds

THE ICE VULTURE <3 OUR BOY'S NEW MOTIF <3

MAYDAY. MAYYYYYDAYYYYYY.

HE IS HERE!

God Mayday was complicated because like I loved him from the moment I saw him but also like, coming into this episode just logistically we knew anyone that showed Crosshair a hint of kindness was almost certainly going to get killed, so Mayday is loved for the exact thing that put him on the path to narrative doom. Reinforcements or no reinforcements, it doesn't matter, Mayday was never leaving Barton IV alive.

They waited 36 rotations. 4 days longer than Crosshair was left to nearly starve on a platform. If I remember correctly (I'm not there yet) Crosshair says the trip took 2 hours. None of their lives were worth two hours.

THE WAY MAYDAY HAS TWO, TWO MEN LEFT UNDER HIS COMMAND. ONLY TWO. HE HAD TO WATCH THE REST ALL DIE UNDER HIS WATCH. I AM SO FUCKING UNWELL ABOUT HIM.

I really love the name Hexx btw

"Respect is something to be earned." And immediately Nolan goes nuclear to insult him because he wasn't instantly given unconditional deference.

YEP IT WAS TWO HOURS. TWO HOURS OUT OF THE WAY.

I am going to scream from the layers of unfair this is.

The way Mayday's voice softens a touch when left alone with Crosshair though, always gentler with another clone.

I'm still not over the LONG pause after Mayday introduces himself, like Crosshair is trying to dig past the shields he put up between himself and his situation to remember his own name. He probably hasn't heard it at all since Cody.

Mayday looked at Crosshair and apparently felt the desperation for company rolling off him in smothering waves because he instantly is just like 'you're under my wing now'

That he's been out here over a year meaning that the Empire has been established for over a year is a lot to take in like god Crosshair has been away from home for so long.

"You'll freeze to death in that armor" He is like 10 seconds from wrapping Crosshair in a blanket I swear to god I'm only slightly projecting.

"Vicious creatures, but you have to admire 'em. They find a way to survive." GOD I LOVE THAT LINE. ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC.

Using the explosion through heat vision to completely screw Crosshair's up for the shot was such a good excuse to have him just wound the guy instead of kill him, lol.

Still was surprised to see a blood trail in this cartoon, but sure they can't show us any sign of Tech's body right (YES I AM STILL ON THIS AND WILL BE UNTIL THEY SHOW US THE BOY)

Goddddd him putting Hexx and Veetch's helmets next to all of the others. His very last brothers, the men he was responsible for, god I am in tatters about it. Every second of this episode is just. Grief and Pain.

"Remind me not to die on your watch" Don't worry you're the only person that's been nice to him in months he will literally drag you through hell to save your life. Crosshair just has what we call "Something is wrong with him" disease and all of his words pass through the cortex that makes him rude before getting to you.

My thoughts on this mine disarming scene are Many but let it just be said that I still cannot believe they put this on my screen, it was made explicitly for me to be feral to.

Mayday has learned fast how to talk to Crosshair though, gotta give him some snark back.

"They're... gone." "And here we are. The survivors."

GOD I AM UNHINGED ABOUT THIS.

"If I don't hear a boom then I'll know it worked." "Glad you're confident in your work." "Oh I'm confident, I'm just not stupid."

I just love this back and forth dynamic that they hit perfectly and immediately.

Hey Crosshair actually wins a hand to hand fight all he has to do is sneak up on them and not give them the opportunity to actually hit him back.

Shout out to the guy whose first instinct was to try and RUN MAYDAY OVER WITH A CAR like it didn't work but impressive ingenuity.

Clones dying to guard the gear intended for their replacements god it makes me ILL.

"We're good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?"

The entire thing is designed to drive a wedge into Crosshair's brain and break through the thick shield he's built around himself where he is so sure if he just follows orders Well Enough maybe he can make everything he's done and lost worth it in the end but he can't because he never had a future in the Empire and no amount of sunk cost fallacy will change that.

AND JUST IN TIME FOR HIS EPIPHANY WE GET THE AVALANCHE.

Literally would be so fascinating to see exactly what was running through Mayday's head when he chose to push Crosshair out of the way of the rock instead of jumping to safety himself. He just met this guy, he's not technically responsible for him, but Mayday has lost every single soldier he was in command of, sole survivor of his unit, and he finally, finally had the opportunity to save someone. If he only saves one person, maybe he's done something worthwhile.

And honestly, Crosshair is trying to do the same back to him. Just Mayday dies knowing he succeeded and Crosshair lives knowing he failed.

I am fucking destroyed by this episode by the way like it is so unbearably good and also tragic as hell.

Mayday trying to get Crosshair to leave him behind and the music when Crosshair decides absolutely the fuck not. That they have one helmet between them and Crosshair put it on Mayday's head and not his own.

THE MUSIC AS CROSSHAIR IS SO DETERMINED TO DRAG HIM BACK AND THE ICE VULTURE OVERHEAD MY GOD.

The moment of them huddling together in a tiny little hideaway in the rock ends me too, like, images that stick in my head forever.

And despite everything Crosshair made it he got Mayday back to the outpost alive, he did everything to accomplish the impossible and it should have been enough, but it wasn't all because Nolan doesn't value either of their lives enough to even lift a single finger for Mayday.

Like Crosshair accomplishing the impossible through sheer stubbornness only to have it pulled away at the last second I am in AGONY.

HE GAVE MAYDAY HIS SNIPER RIFLE TO USE AS A CRUTCH FOR GODS SAKE

Crosshair taking Mayday's helmet off and at least giving him one last moment of human connection before it's over

The voice acting in this moment is absolutely unbelievable but especially on 'Help him' like give DBB all the money in the world because I was shattered.

THE FACT THAT THEY MADE US LISTEN TO MAYDAY GURGLE COUGH OUT HIS LAST BREATH AND SEE THE INSTANT HIS EYES ROLL BACK AND CLOSE

"He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire" OWN WORDS THROWN BACK INTO HIS FACE LIKE A FUCKING PUNCH

The way Crosshair's words drop back down into a growl as he says "You could have saved him." is so good too.

The music as it all reaches its boiling point, as he sees the vulture's shadow, then Mayday's body, then the vulture itself just. Oh god. This episode is a masterpiece and I'm still not over it. I don't think I'll ever be over it.

Like I still cannot BELIEVE we got this shot? The rock wings? I'm? Inconsolable?

Crosshair really probably thought he was going to die right there next to Mayday and honestly I think he was okay with it, in the worst way possible. Also him unconscious here is literally THE most relaxed I think we've ever seen his face.

But because this is only the start of Crosshair's Life Getting Much Much Worse he gets to live and wake up in a horrible science lab!

The sedative injection is much worse given the way that they torture him later.

"Cooperate and you might survive."

Literally one of the best episodes of anything I've ever seen I still cannot believe that we got it, truly. This episode is like 95% of the reason I have faith in the writers pulling through on the Tech Issue because I don't think anyone that gave Crosshair this episode arc would actually kill Tech off in such a stupid way on a completely pointless side quest.

I'm still on the rock wings and will be until further notice.

#the bad batch rewatch

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ashes-2-ashes57cba · 5 months ago

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The Bad Batch: Valkyrie

Episode 11: The Outpost

*adla-vod: same brother/sister (roughly translates to twin), Mando'a warnings: things kind of skip around, but other than that... I am so sorry

Crosshair followed Nolan and the assigned squad out into the cold. The entire base looked desolate as harsh, snowy winds swept through. The only other living being was a vulture circling high above them. The only relief, from the winds at the very least, was when they entered the main command post; it was dim and dark compared to the blinding white snow outside. Only a few load-lifting droids were active. Nolan cleared his throat—half expecting a more proper greeting—and made his way over to one.

“Where is your supervisor?” the lieutenant asked.

“You must be our reinforcements,” a voice answered, appearing from behind the giant stack of crates. He was a clone wearing scraps of patchwork armor and sporting a scowl behind his unkempt beard. “We expected you 36 rotations ago. Did you get lost?” he questioned. Crosshair felt the corners of his mouth raise a little.

“We work on the Empire’s schedule, trooper, not yours,” Nolan excused, taking half a step forward.

“It’s Commander, Lieutenant,” the clone said.

“Well, Commander,” Nolan started with a sass Crosshair found irritating, “your orders were to guard and protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded. Where are the rest of your men?” The two had followed the Commander behind the crate stack toward the warm glow of a small heater, where only two other scrappy clones were huddled.

“Dead,” the bearded clone answered his question. “Hexx, Veetch, and I, we’re all that’s left,” he gestured toward the huddled clones, leaning back and crossing his arms. Crosshair could only feel a little pity.

“Your failings will be dealt with later,” Nolan was indifferent. “For now, I am in charge here until the cargo is transported.”

“I feel safer already,” the commander said with obvious sarcasm. Crosshair felt the remnants of a smirk again and flushed it down.

“Look here, clone, you speak to me with respect,” the lieutenant seethed.

“In my experience, respect is something to be earned.” The commander reminded him of Captain Rex—he seemed so far away now. He waited for Nolan’s response.

“Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, where you let the majority of your squad get killed.” It was a low blow. The unwavering clone raised a brow and glanced at his remaining men.

“Tell me, Lieutenant, how many missions have you commanded?” he asked. Crosshair looked to Nolan for his response. He only lowered his chin and looked awkwardly to the side; he had a feeling the lieutenant lacked any real experience. “That’s what I thought. Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” he nodded before leaning over to Hexx and Veetch. The pair almost reluctantly stood up and brushed past Nolan, who gave the clone a final glare before following the others. Crosshair watched him go with amusement.

“You, uh, know the lieutenant well?” the bearded clone asked Crosshair, his tone lowered once more.

“For about two hours,” Crosshair replied, turning his attention. The clone scoffed, bringing the small heater closer between them.

“Two hours too long, I bet,” he replied. Crosshair only hummed in response. “So, what’d you do to get stuck with this mission?”

He turned against his team.

He had to leave his twin sister behind.

He hunted them down and they hurt him.

Even when they gave him a chance to come with them, he turned away from them—from her.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he answered; his recurring thoughts of Specter were beginning to be a problem. The clone chuckled and sighed.

“The name’s Mayday,” he introduced, looking at the sniper to reciprocate. He hadn’t said his name in a long time.

“Crosshair.”

“Welcome to The Outpost,” Mayday welcomed, going over to grab his damaged helmet and blaster. “I’ll give you a lay of the land.”

The land was laying in a desolate grave, ready to die. But Crosshair thought Mayday wasn’t that bad; he was a reg for sure, but had grown jaded, and Crosshair could see why; though at this point, the line between his own mutated kin and the regs had been long since disregarded.

It was a poorly defended outpost—not just from the lack of guards—with the raiders able to simply sneak in during the heavy storm. Mayday went west while Crosshair took to an eastern vantage point, hoping to cut off the intruders. Hexx was already down by the time he made it up to the watchtower.

“Three raiders are heading towards the shuttle at zero-one-five,” someone down the line announced. Crosshair peered down the scope of his rifle, opting to lower his antennae to get more accurate thermal readings; he tracked a figure running towards the shuttle with another soldier hot on his trail. Just as the raider turned the corner, using the shuttle for cover, it exploded in a fiery blast.

Crosshair hissed in pain as the brightness stung his eyes and his ears rang from the overloaded sensors in his helmet. He threw it off to the side and rubbed his eyes.

“You don’t need the helmet,” a voice whispered. He didn’t have time to argue with the phantom voice and raised his rifle once more, only using his own eyes and skills to take aim, tracking his target through the smoke. “Now.”

He fired the shot, hitting his mark but not killing them. He blinked away the strain from his eyes and looked around, not finding anyone or anything that could have spoken to him. He was equally disappointed as he was relieved: it had sounded like Specter. She was the only one to tell him to train without the assistance his helmet gave him. She was the only one who knew when and how to fire a long distance shot without one. But she wasn’t here. He didn’t want her here in the frozen hell.

Crosshair shoved his helmet on and went down to investigate the damage.

The burning shuttle gave him enough warmth and enough light to see the splatter of blood where he had struck the raider. The sniper followed the trail past the edge of the outpost and into the snow, down a small ledge and into a crevice leading to a dark cave. He turned on his flashlight, shining the light into the cave where the blood trailed further down. Snow shuffled above him—he turned and took aim. It was only Mayday.

“A snow skiff took off down the western ridge,” he informed. “The rest must’ve fled on foot into the mountain pass.”

“Wrong,” refuted Crosshair. Mayday joined him in the crevice and saw the blood in the snow.

“So that’s how they snuck past our defenses,” he said, glumly.

Mayday placed Veetch’s helmet next to Hexx’s in the main storage complex, where other helmets of the rest of Mayday’s squad were lined up. Crosshair couldn’t mourn those losses, but he understood Mayday’s; he too was the last of his team. A sour taste filled his mouth when Nolan appeared, aggravated.

“What are you doing just standing around?” he hissed. “Those raiders stole two crates of cargo during that attack. Send your troops to retrieve it,” he ordered. Crosshair wanted to laugh at the lieutenant’s incompetence, curious as to how he thought they’d be able to accomplish that task.

“Hexx and Veetch were killed in the ambush,” Mayday growled, slowly turning to face the officer, “we don’t have the manpower or gear for a mission beyond the perimeter. Especially just to recover a few crates.”

“It’s not up to you to determine what is of value to the Empire,” Nolan spat.

“What a posterboy,” a voiceless thought echoed in the sniper’s head. It wasn’t his own, but he knew Specter would have mumbled the same thing.

“Then I need all your men for this mission,” Mayday offered.

“And leave this outpost vulnerable to another attack?” the lieutenant asked, incredulously, “I think not. This task falls to you two, and you two alone. Recover the cargo. Is that clear?” Mayday eyed him, staring him down and reluctantly answering—

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

The pair carefully followed the trail of blood from earlier deep into the cave until they came across the cold, dead, body of one of the raiders.

“He didn’t get far,” Crosshair commented.

“Not sure what bothers me more. That he’s wearing armor stolen off my men, or that his cohorts just left him here,” said Mayday, having examined the body.

“No point in carrying deadweight,” Crosshair shrugged. Mayday glanced over his shoulder at him.

“Remind me not to die on your watch,” he said, his tone uneasy. Crosshair ignored his discomfort and ventured on, peering through the dark with Mayday eventually following close behind. The ground above them rumbled, dislodging loose dirt and shaking the ground. “Maybe it’s just the ice,” Mayday suggested. Crosshair swallowed his anxiety and walked on until he felt something shift under his feet; a mechanical click sounded and he froze, knowing what it was but not daring to even move his mouth.

“Pressure mine,” Mayday explained, coming around. Just as he thought—he hummed in response. “What were you saying about deadweight?” Mayday teased as he knelt down.

“Do you know how to disarm it?” Crosshair asked, ignoring his question.

“I’m no explosives expert,” he took off his helmet, “but since I don’t feel like carrying your body back to the outpost, I guess I’ll give it a shot.” Mayday blew away the surrounding snow, revealing the rest of the mine, humming with concern as he analyzed it. “This mine’s a little different than ones I’ve seen before, but I’m pretty sure they’re all the same. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Crosshair let him talk and pull out some tools. “I wish I had the proper equipment for this, but the Empire’s ignored all my requests. I’ve learned to improvise though. I guess all clones have had to since the war.” He gently pounded L-shaped rods near the pressure mine, attempting to keep it in activated stasis. Crosshair knew this trick; Wrecker had once attempted to do the same in practice, but his lack of patience resulted in the mock explosive going off and covering him with a powdered dye that wouldn’t wash out for days. Specter had laughed about it for weeks.

“Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending,” Mayday sighed, “until it did.” Crosshair shared the same thought once. “What unit were you with?” The question caught him off guard.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Humor me. I could use the distraction.”

“...Clone Force 99.” Mayday paused.

“I’ve heard of you guys. You were the ones with the girl?” he wondered. Crosshair dared to nod.

“My twin sister.” Mayday looked up at him, surprised, before continuing.

“What was she like?” he asked.

What was she like?

She was spirited and clever. Her talents were unique, and her skills couldn’t be matched. She mirrored Crosshair, and at the same time, was his opposite.

Truly twins.

Last he knew, his silence had broken her already fragile heart, and undoubtedly snapped whatever of their bond was left.

Last he knew he imagined she wanted him dead.

He didn’t blame her.

“Crosshair?” Mayday snapped him out of his thoughts. Crosshair thought of an actual answer to give him.

“Specter was special.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s… gone. Along with the rest of them,” he said.

“And here we are, the survivors.” Mayday sat up again, having finished pounding the rods into place. “Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments.”

“Mission’s a mission,” Crosshair repeated the mantra. Mayday actually chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to say the same thing.” Crosshair wondered how long it would be before he ended up like him. “There. That should do it,” Mayday affirmed, standing up and grabbing his helmet. Crosshair went to step off the pressure mine until he was stopped.

“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t pick up your foot yet. Wait until I tell you, then lift it, but real slow like,” Mayday instructed, walking past Crosshair. “I’ll wait around the bend. If I don’t hear a boom, then I’ll know it worked.” He likened the commander to Wrecker.

“Glad you’re confident in your work,” he mumbled after huffing out a laugh.

“Oh, I’m confident. I’m just not stupid.” Crosshair could hear Mayday’s voice change as he turned the corner. “Remember, nice and slow. On the count of three.” Crosshair took a breath. He didn’t expect to die here, he trusted Mayday’s work enough.

“One.” But the thought did occur that if he died, no one would know or care. He could make peace with that.

“Two.” But Specter was still out there. She had to be.

“Three.” He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly lifted his foot, holding his breath. There was no explosion. He breathed a sigh of relief before making sure to step around the mine, continuing forward with Mayday trailing behind.

Crosshair wanted to lie in the snow for a while; he was tired from the mission and the blaster fight. He admitted to himself that shooting those explosives to bury the raiders, while effective, was not exactly the smartest decision. Rocks and snow had tumbled down, stopping the fight, but Mayday and Crosshair still had to get up.

“Let’s load the cargo and get out of here,” Mayday said, grunting as they got up and assessed the crates that had fallen. The pair carefully went down the slope, investigating the contents that had fallen, taking off their helmets. Crosshair stopped with chills running down his spine… and it wasn’t from the snow.

“Gear?” Mayday questioned. “We’ve been risking our lives to recover equipment we could have been wearing this whole time?” Crosshair used his foot to turn a newly minted helmet up from the powder.

“It’s not clone trooper gear,” he added. Mayday knelt down, lifting a cuirass and turning it in his hand.

“Right. New toys for their shiny new military, and we get the scraps.” Crosshair turned to the commander, watching his arm slowly drop the cuirass. “After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed… we’re good soldiers. We followed orders. And for what?” The sniper let the question resonate. ‘Good soldiers follow orders’ was always his mantra, but he had never considered that there was anything beyond the phrase.

A deep rumbling disrupted them, they turned their attention to the source; the mountain peak had disappeared behind a cloud of fast approaching snow. An avalanche.

“Go!” Mayday shouted. Crosshair didn’t think twice, he shoved on his helmet and ran as fast as he could. He didn’t dare look back, only towards a small rock outcropping that would be their only chance of protection, if they could even make it that far. The snowline was advancing too fast, however, Crosshair could see the beginnings of powder race past his feet.

“Look out!” Mayday warned, shoving the sniper out of the way of the rock outcropping before he was slammed against it by the force of the avalanche. Crosshair tumbled out of the way, his helmet lost in the process, ending up on his back and gasping as the snow came upon him. He quickly used his hands to make a pocket of air around his mouth and face before it all went dark.

A hand broke through the packed snow. Another followed. Crosshair gasped as he clawed his way free, shivering. He looked around at the landscape—somehow more desolate than before—finding the rock outcropping barely sticking out in the snow. The sniper shivered again and rubbed his hands together before trudging through the snow to find his comrade.

He made it to the rock soon enough, but upon seeing no sign of the commander, he began to dig. His fingers—everything—were cold, but he couldn’t stop.

She wouldn’t forgive him.

He dug harder, eventually finding Mayday, who had also lost his helmet—though he found it only a few feet away.

“Mayday,” he said, trying to get his attention and digging him out some more. “Mayday, wake up,” he pleaded. Crosshair hoisted him up out of the snow, the commander groaned. “Come on. We have to move,” he placed him against the rock. Mayday groaned again.

“Go,” he said, panting, “I won’t make it.” Crosshair looked around, peering through the storm, shuddering at the cold.

She wouldn’t forgive him.

He reached over and put Mayday’s helmet on him before hoisting his arm over his shoulder. Together they slowly but surely marched—or rather dragged themselves— through the snow, creating distance between themselves and the peak of the mountain. Mayday slipped from his grasp, groaning as he hit the snow. Crosshair hoisted him up again and kept going. The sniper used his beloved rifle as a walking stick, pulling both of them along against the wind until a rocky ledge came into view. It would have to do, it blocked only some of the harsh winds. Crosshair set Mayday down against the rock, collapsing next to him and trying to huddle for warmth.

He was cold. His teeth chattered. Mayday weakly curled into his side, Crosshair reciprocated. He considered this could be purgatory…he considered not trying to redeem himself… but she wouldn’t forgive him.

Crosshair could feel the storm stop at the first sign of light, feel the sun behind his tightly closed eyes. He couldn’t bear to open them, he felt they were frozen shut. Mayday still clung to his side, slowly breathing.

“Cross…” a voice called out in the distance. He wanted to ignore it. “Crosshair!” it called again, insistent. He pried his eyes open, squinting from the morning light reflecting off the snow, adjusting to a figure in the distant horizon. Brown hair and a cream colored dress billowed in the easy wind.

Specter.

He blinked again. She was wearing her armor, sans her helmet, jogging closer; her hair was in its familiar braided halo.

“C’mon we’re almost there,” she encouraged with a breezy smile. He looked up at her as she approached, dazed. “Don’t you quit on me now, adla-vod.” The snow crunched under her boots before she stopped, catching her breath and putting her hands on her hips. Specter looked down the path, considering it.

“Specter,” he breathed out her name.

“Yeah, I think we can make it,” she nodded, not hearing him. Crosshair watched as she knelt down, meeting his eyes with her own sparkling brown-green. “Let’s go, Cross, we can get there together.” He could only shiver in response. Specter reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.

He could feel it. She was real; she was here and smiling gently at him like she always did. “I’m not going without you.”

Crosshair blinked hard again as a breeze blew across his face. She had changed. The white cream dress with a slit exposing her leg and a sweetheart neckline; silver, lace-like armor covered her collar, extending past her shoulders, as well as covering her hips. She donned silver boots, a belt, and arm braces. Metallic, rose-gold was sprayed in a band across her eyes like a mask. Her loose hair fell past her shoulders, framing her resolute expression.

“Specter?” he tried again. His voice was hoarse. He tried reaching out to her.

“Get up, Crosshair.”

He blinked. She was gone. Mayday grumbled next to him, stirring awake, but barely so. Crosshair gathered his strength, he knew who to thank for it; he got up, just as she told him to.

Mayday used the rifle as a crutch while slung over Crosshair’s shoulder. He had a taste of hope, and it was enough to lead the march back to the outpost. He was sure he had only dreamt of his sister appearing to him, in that white dress of hers, but as they walked, Crosshair thought he glimpsed her walking ahead of them several times: he blamed his eyes, still strained from the explosion.

Yet a piece of him still felt it was all real.

What was certainly real were the small cargo shuttles flying overhead and cresting over the ridge. The outpost was not too far. But Mayday’s pace had slowed significantly.

He had to keep going.

They finally made it back; he could see troopers loading the crates onto the shuttles, Nolan cataloging each one. Mayday’s pace slowed again.

“We’re almost there,” Crosshair promised him. Just like she had.

They were spotted by a few of the troopers, they stopped their work and gathered around to watch them approach… but none of them stepped over the line to help them. Nolan pushed his way through, ordering them to go back to work by the time Crosshair and Mayday met them in the middle. The latter collapsed, slipping off the crutch-rifle and from Crosshair’s grasp, groaning as he hit the ground. Crosshair joined him on his knees, catching his breath.

“About time you two returned,” the lieutenant scolded, ignoring their condition.

“He,” Crosshair panted and pried Mayday’s helmet off, “he needs a medic.”

“I see you didn’t retrieve the crates, which means you’ve failed your mission,” Nolan said dismissively.

“Did you hear what I said? Help him!” Crosshair practically begged.

“Certainly not. That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources,” the lieutenant sneered, shaking his head.

“He’ll… he’ll die,” Crosshair said—not just for Nolan to hear. Behind him, Mayday coughed, groaned, and held his stomach; Crosshair turned around in time to see him become limp. His cold fingers went to his cold neck.

A minute too late.

“He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire.” Lieutenant Nolan’s monologue offered no comfort. All of Crosshair’s remaining energy turned into rage: he knew who to thank for it.

“You could have saved him,” he refuted, trembling.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Nolan towered over him. “He is expendable, as are you. And if you speak to me again with such disrespect, I’ll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.” Crosshair lowered his head, clenching his teeth, not from the cold. The shadow of the circling vulture passed by, he looked at Mayday, now lifeless.

Their fates were intertwined and sealed.

“Now, leave him and get back to work… while you’re still useful,” Nolan commanded before making his leave. Crosshair looked up at the vulture now, remembering what Mayday had said about its resilience. A gentle hand on the side of his face turned his attention.

Specter.

He gazed at his twin with the rose-gold mask, in her pale dress and silver armor. She knew he was tired, she knew he was upset, she knew he was hopeless.

She knew what needed to be done.

He had the resolve to do it.

They mirrored each other, standing up in unison. Their hands met and she guided his arm up. In sync they faced forward.

“Lieutenant,” they called. Nolan stopped and slowly turned in curiosity. He only just realized a weapon was pointed at him before the blaster fired, hitting him square in the chest, killing him instantly. Crosshair staggered, falling to his knees. Specter was gone and Mayday’s body remained. He was done.

“Hey, drop it!” a distant trooper called. Crosshair could barely comply, he drifted forward and collapsed, exhausted.

Specter was there on the other side of the darkness, waiting for him. He went to take her outstretched hand, expecting her to lead him to whatever hell he deserved.

“You’re not done yet,” she said instead.

He woke up somewhere. His head spun and his vision was blurred, everything echoed in his ears.

“Hello, CT-9904,” a voice introduced. Not Specter, another woman. “Or do you prefer Crosshair?” she asked. He didn’t answer. Pain was everywhere.

“Where am I?” he wondered, panting from the energy used to stay awake.

“I’m holding you for observation. Once you’ve healed, the doctor will come for you,” the woman answered simply.

“Who-” there was a flicker of someone behind her “-who are you?”

“Remain calm,” the woman replied, loading a syringe and sticking it in the base of his neck. “Cooperate and you might survive,” she advised.

He ignored her and looked at his twin, who stood just over her shoulder.

She nodded.

He let the darkness overtake him.

#f!oc #star wars #star wars oc #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x oc #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb oc #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb mayday

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 1 year ago

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Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.1 - Last Chance

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday, Clone Trooper Hexx, Clone Trooper Veetch, Lieutenant Nolan, Assorted Imperial Troopers Word Count: ~3045 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: The Imperial relief ship finally arrives, marking the end of the squad’s long posting on Barton IV. Mayday is surprised to see a CT-99 listed on the crew roster.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place

“COMMANDER!”

Veetch’s yell was enough to summon Mayday at a run. He weaved through the stacks of crates to where his squad member was bent over the computer console, tapping excitedly.

Veetch turned with a wild-eyed grin. “Transport is incoming.”

The young clone stepped aside, letting Mayday see the screen for himself. Disbelieving, Mayday scrolled through the transmission, reading and re-reading until he was sure it wasn't a joke.

“Go get Hexx,” he ordered, voice shaky with something between excitement and dread. “This is it, lad. We’re getting out of here.”

Veetch was off like a shot, the lethargy of their long posting dissipated as ready as snow in the sun. Before long the three clones were clustered round the screen, avidly reviewing the transmission.

It’s concise – what Mayday has come to expect from the Empire.

[Cargo retrieval ship scheduled to arrive 1600 Galactic Standard. Ensure all stored goods are ready for transport.]

What it doesn’t say is the bit that Mayday reads between the lines. That he and his boys are finally leaving Barton IV and all its bad memories behind them.

Hexx was reviewing the ship’s manifest with a frown.

“Says they’re bringing a contingent to secure the depot whilst the cargo is transferred,” he said with a dour tone, “but there’s no clone troopers listed here.”

Veetch leaned in to peer over his shoulder. “There’s one,” he pointed. “CT-9904.”

“The only one,” Hexx muttered.

“A CT-99?” said Mayday mildly, eyebrows raising towards his hairline. “I didn’t realise there were any left in service.”

Veetch glanced at him in confusion. “What’s different about a CT-99?” he asked.

“Defective clones,” supplied Hexx. “But still combat-worthy.”

“He must be one of the last ones,” said Mayday. “Well, a brother’s a brother. I’ll see if I can pin him down when they get here, find out what his view of this new Empire is.”

Hexx snorted. “If he’ll talk to you,” he said. “I’ve heard the 99’s are notoriously difficult to work with. Only interested in others like them.”

“You’ll keep those thoughts to yourself,” said Mayday flatly, his commander’s tone brooking no argument. “If the rumours are true, and the Empire are phasing out clone troopers, those of us that are left need to stick together.”

“What do we need to do to get ready for the ship’s arrival?” asked Veetch, the plaintive note of hope in his voice almost painful to hear.

Mayday straightened with a humourless smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Better get out there and sweep the snow from the landing zone. First impressions count, boys. Let’s make sure this place is looking spick and span before the transport arrives.”

The wry sarcasm in his voice made the other two grin.

“You don’t mean that, Commander,” said Veetch, pulling on his helmet and tightening the fabric coverings.

Mayday huffed a laugh. “Sure I do. If the ship skids on ice when it lands and crashes into the depot, none of us are getting out of here.” He clapped a hand to Hexx’s shoulder, then copied Veetch in gathering his helmet.

“Come on. We’ll do this together.”

Mayday’s expectations hadn’t been low enough.

The narrow-faced Lieutenant who disembarked the transport had immediately started making demands which betrayed that he hadn’t bothered to read the briefing about the Barton IV depot.

“Your orders were to protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Dead,” answered Mayday shortly. The man would have known that, if he’d read the brief. He glanced at his two remaining troopers, nodding in their direction. “Hexx, Veetch and I,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and calm, “we’re all that’s left.”

To his mind, it was impossible to miss the sombre line of empty, damaged clone helmets lined up on the crates behind them. The lieutenant’s pale blue eyes slid past them, glazing past the evidence of their loss to settle in a scowl directed at Mayday once more.

“Your failings will be dealt with later,” he said haughtily. “For now, I am in charge until the cargo is transported.”

Mayday bristled at the man’s tone, bit back the reaction. Instead he settled for a sardonic smile, glancing at Hexx and Veetch with a barely-concealed eye roll. “I feel safer already,” he drawled, confident that his two troopers shared his thoughts. He couldn’t wait for this so-called Lieutenant to discover the realities of the outpost.

Sarcasm was the wrong approach. The small man’s pinched face narrowed further, mouth puckering in evident anger. “Look here, clone, you will speak to me with respect.”

The change was immediate. Hexx and Veetch, leaned back against the crates, straightened. Mayday dropped a hand to his side from his crossed arms, a flick of his fingers telling them to stand down.

“In my experience,” he said, drawing himself deliberately to his full height, “respect is something to be earned.”

Fourteen months of hardship had only weathered confidence into Mayday’s tone.

But he wasn’t prepared for what the Lieutenant threw at him next.

“Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, where you let the majority of your squad get killed.”

Mayday stiffened, a dark glower spreading to his face. He knew his own failings; knew the decisions he had made during the Clone Wars and since that had sent good soldiers to their deaths. The guilt of ordering patrols during the blizzard six months into the Barton IV posting haunted him.

Everything had gone wrong after that; but the rest of it could have been avoided. The rest of his squad died because the Empire ignored his requests for support time and again.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” he said when he had control of his voice once more, “how many missions have you commanded?”

The smaller man’s shoulders rose towards his ears with a defensive, embarrassed glower.

“That’s what I thought,” said Mayday softly.

Inside his chest his heart raced, adrenaline demanding his aching body take action. Instead he dragged his gaze away from the lieutenant, trying to make it seem like the man was beneath his attention.

“Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” he said, an order rather than a suggestion.

Wordlessly, Hexx and Veetch slipped past him. Hexx turned briefly, a questioning hand sign thrown his commander, but Mayday signalled for him to leave. He cast a pointed glance towards the dark armoured figure who had shadowed the lieutenant silently throughout the confrontation, rifle stowed at his back but seemingly tense and ready to fight.

Hexx merely nodded and turned to follow Veetch, less than gently escorting the Imperial lieutenant away from the sheltered space behind the stacked storage crates.

Once they had the space to themselves Mayday turned his attention to the silent sniper, assessing. The man was taller than Mayday or any of the brothers he had ever served with, yet he wore clone armour, albeit a dark-painted variant. It was enough to confirm this must be the defective clone from the ship’s crew manifest.

Mayday straightened, wondering how best to begin his overtures towards the newcomer. He’d never met a CT-99 before, which would have given him pause enough, and that was without knowing how deeply the man’s loyalty to the new Empire ran.

He decided that was the first thing he wanted to know. Forcing himself to relax back against the crates again, he stared into the impassive green visor and asked, “You, uh, know the lieutenant well?”

For a heartbeat he wondered if it was the right question. Then the sniper spoke, voice laden with acid.

“For about two hours,” he said, the derision in his tone clear.

Mayday huffed a relieved laugh. “Two hours too long, I bet,” he said, having decided he’d had enough of the man after only two minutes.

The only reply was a noncommittal ‘hmm’. Deciding this was better than meeting a severe response that berated him for disparaging the Imperial officer, he pressed on.

“So, what did you do to get stuck with this mission?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

The bite of sarcasm drew a genuine if bitter laugh from Mayday.

Lifting the portable heater, Mayday shuffled it forwards a few steps and dropped it in front of the other clone. The glow of the device did nothing to dispel the shadows that seemed to cling to the black-painted armour and shroud the sniper in darkness.

The 99 barely looked at him. Or perhaps sharp eyes were following him from inside the helmet – there was no way to tell. The man didn’t move; hadn’t moved, even to relax a little when the lieutenant departed.

“The name’s Mayday,” he offered after a pause.

The silence that followed was so long that Mayday was sure the other must be ignoring him, wishing for the conversation to end.

Then, so softly it was almost lost; “Crosshair.”

The commander raised his eyebrows, then let them fall back into a frown. The clone had been so slow to give his name, said it so uncertainly, that Mayday found himself wondering if it was the first time he had spoken it aloud since The Order reduced them to mere numbers in the eyes of the Empire.

“Crosshair,” Mayday repeated, and he gave weight to the name, added conviction. Desperately hoped that this small act of connection would bind the CT-99 to him in something approaching brotherhood.

He summoned a dry smile, and gestured around him with a flourish. “Well, Crosshair… welcome to The Outpost.”

“Why aren’t they loading the kriffing cargo already?” snarled Veetch in disappointment.

Hexx shared his younger companion’s frustration. The three remaining squad members from Barton IV were more than ready to leave, but the newly-arrived Lieutenant Nolan had other ideas. The Imperial Troopers who were with him with were filing from the ship and making their way into the depot. It seemed clear that a quick turnaround was less important than meticulously checking each crate for signs of tampering – as if the clones had any motive or desire to do such a thing.

They were stood in the shadow of the damaged storage building, fairly certain that it would keep them out of the way of the industry now overtaking the base, but they were hailed anyway.

“Hie, clones,” called a voice, neither friendly nor welcoming. Hexx glanced at Veetch and gave a weary shrug before stepping out from the sheltering wall, setting his body against the driving wind as they crossed to the Imperial Trooper.

“Yes?” he asked, scraping the thin reserves of his patience for some measure of politeness.

“Show my men where they’re bunking whilst we’re here.”

Hexx barely contained his derisive snort. “What?”

“The barracks area. Show my men the way through that maze of damned crates you created in the main building.”

“They’re not your barracks,” said Veetch uncertainly, hovering beside Hexx’s shoulder.

The Imperial Trooper stepped closer, looming into Veetch’s personal space. “Seeing as most of your squad is dead, I’m guessing there’s plenty of spare bunks. Go and show the others where to stow their kit.”

Veetch surged forwards in anger, but Hexx caught his arm before he could do anything.

“Yes sir,” he bit, making his voice as much like Mayday’s derisive drawl as he could manage. His commander had set the tone for this encounter in the words exchanged with Nolan; Hexx would follow suit.

He hauled the younger clone away with him, tightening his grip when he felt Veetch fight against him.

“What are you doing?” hissed Veetch, a shaky, outraged whisper. “You’re not doing what he said? After that?”

Hexx shook him hard, fingers pressing bruises between the seams of his upper arm armour.

“Listen here,” he spat, leaning in close to the younger trooper even though his voice would be perfectly clear on the com. “This might be our last chance off this forsaken rock. I’m not going to spoil it by losing my temper with these prissy Imperials. So suck it up, Veetch, and we can finally get out this kriffing hell-hole.”

“But the others… Dene and Recon and Helix and Axis-”

“-Are gone.” Hexx’s voice was flat. “But we’re still here.” He sighed, loosening his grip on Veetch’s arm, transferring his hand to his shoulder instead to grip with supportive pressure. “If you were older you’d have learned this during the war. There’s always another mission. Another posting. Some of your brothers get left behind. But they’d want you to go on, so you fight another day, you keep living for them. You hear me?”

Veetch wasn’t listening. His focus was over Hexx’s shoulder, gaze fixed on something distant. Then his hand flew to his com.

“Commander! Raiders spotted inside the perimeter.”

Instantly Hexx’s hands went to his blaster, spinning to follow Veetch’s gaze, dropping into a battle-ready stance.

“Over there,” Veetch told him, gesturing, and Hexx nodded.

“I see. Come on, kid. Let’s not let the Commander down now we’ve got an audience.”

The two clones sprinted for the perimeter breach, weaving between Imperial Troopers who stood around, slower to react. Veetch’s blaster fire lit up the hard-standing, arcing towards the raiders who broke from cover as they realised they had been made.

“I’ve got the west,” came Mayday’s voice over the com. “The sniper’s taking the east tower.”

They closed on the raiders, the cluster of enemy combatants quickly splitting up to try and escape. One of them crouched to the ground, steadying their rifle before taking a shot.

Veetch stumbled, veering out the way to take cover behind one of the base’s low barricades. The shelter was a brief respite, chance to catch his breath and look to Hexx for their next move.

Only Hexx was no longer at his side.

He was sprawled on the ground, throat torn out by blaster-fire.

The world narrowed. Inside his helmet, Veetch struggled to draw breath. By rote he raised his hand, activating his com.

“Hexx is down.” He was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded. His throat constricted around a thick lump of sorrow, but somehow it hadn’t stayed his words.

His fingers trembled beside the com button, feeling like he should say something else, not knowing what.

Confused shouts and blaster fire sounded as the Imperial Troops joined the combat. Veetch poked his head up from behind cover, quickly surveying the battlefield. The Imperials weren’t used to fighting in the dark and low visibility of Barton IV snowstorms. He was.

“Thee raiders heading towards the shuttle at zero-one-five,” he reported, and then he was on the move again. Two of the raiders peeled off in one direction but he was closer to the third – he stuck on them as they skirted round the lowered ramp to the far side of the shuttle.

He slowed to a jog as he neared the shuttle. The raider hadn’t noticed him; Veetch found himself softening his footfalls in the hope of ambushing his target.

An explosion. The light craft was consumed in intense nexus of fire which blossomed outwards with the strength of an inferno.

Veetch felt the wave of heat hit him first. Then lethal shrapnel pinwheeled from the wreckage to pierce his body, and he didn’t feel anything at all.

Crosshair left the chaos of the base and its burning debris field behind him and followed the spattered path of blood behind the buildings, the dark red stains stark against the snow even in the early twilight of the bad weather.

He blinked and squinted inside his helmet, trying to banish the bright dots dancing in front of his sensitive eyes. Even through the heat sensor, the after-image of the exploding shuttle had been seared into his retinas.

Normally, if there was an explosion on the battlefield, he knew the cause. Wrecker would give him a heads-up.

The attack on the outpost had been an ambush, and he'd had no time to avert his gaze from the sun-bright nova which engulfed the destroyed craft.

Now he slithered down a snow-slope, traitorous memory supplying unwanted thoughts of the last time he had fought on terrain like this. His head had hurt then, too, an intense pinpoint pressure at his temple. He had wondered if it was a migraine, the kind Hunter was prone to.

There was nothing there now but pitted scar tissue, shiny and stretched from the ion burn. At least this time the headache was due to the bright light, nothing more.

His descent brought him to a lip of ice and he dropped lithely into the channel below, landing on his feet. Blessed, cool darkness enveloped him, soothing to his overstrained eyes, but still the blinking afterglows remained and prevented his low-light vision from kicking in.

Crosshair drew the torch from his belt and flashed the beam ahead. The crevasse opened into a tunnel which bored into the mountain-side, winding round a corner and out of sight.

"A snow skiff took off down the western ridge," called a voice from behind him. He turned and looked up to see the reg commander following his route down the snow-slope, crouching at the top of the drop. “The rest must’ve fled on foot into the mountain pass.”

"Wrong," was all Crosshair said, casting his torch back towards the tunnel.

The commander dropped next to him and followed his gaze to a slick of red on the rocky floor.

"So that's how snuck past our defences," he breathed, his voice grim.

"We should go after them," said Crosshair, starting down the tunnel.

"Hang on," said Mayday quickly. He caught Crosshair’s arm, stalling his advance. "You'll freeze to death if you head out there. You think it's cold now? You've got no idea how it gets after true nightfall.” He didn’t fight Crosshair as the sniper shook himself free, instead folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, I've got brothers to bury."

The hitch in his voice was worse than sorrow. It was resignation.

Crosshair hesitated. He’d watched the clone trooper run alongside the shuttle, and barely given a thought to whether he had survived.

“Fine,” he said, his voice a thin, displeased whisper. He shifted his stance, resting the rifle on his shoulder. “But Nolan isn’t going to like this.”

Read Part 2.2 - Broken

Officially on Part 2 - now canon-compliant instead of pre-canon!

RIP Hexx and Veetch :(

Here's a reminder of the Angstpril prompts that @kybercrystals94, @the-little-moment and I are sharing; mine are the ones in red! :)

Here's @the-little-moment's stories:- Day 1 - Homesick Day 4 - Longing Day 7 - Bad Dreams Day 10 - Phantom Pain Day 13 - Learning The Truth Day 16 - Emotionally Distant

And @kybercrystals94's stories:- Day 3 - Broken Hearted Day 6 - This Isn't Going To Work Day 9 - Trust Issues Day 12 - A Little Too Late Day 15 - Confrontation

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