Very New Here And Still Trying To Figure This Out But Wrote A Mini Bad Batch Story To Try And Fill The

Very new here and still trying to figure this out but wrote a mini Bad Batch story to try and fill the gaps in my head. Some mentions of grief and loss. Takes place after Season 2 finale. Hope you enjoy.

Hope

Hunter sat in the pilot seat of the Marauder, staring at the hypnotizing blue swirls of hyperspace as his brother, Wrecker, snored loudly from the back of the ship. The hum of the engine, the random clinks and bangs that were ever present background noise a few weeks ago were now so pronounced Hunter would occasionally flinch.

Even so, it was too quiet. Echo had stayed with them for a week or two, but suggested that Rex and his network would be the best shot at Intel that could lead them to Omega. Hunter understood his reasoning but Omega’s words rang in his ears whenever he thought about it.

“…but he’s not here. We’re meant to be a squad”.

They weren’t much of a squad anymore. With Crosshair lost to imperial custody, Omega kidnapped (again), Echo off with Rex and Tech…

Hunter ran his hands through his hair and over his face, stubbornly wiping at the tears that had formed at the thought of his lost brother. He looked to the copilots’ seat to see Tech’s goggles, lifelessly staring back at him.

They hadn’t known what to do with them at first. Wrecker had spent the first two days gingerly cradling them as he moved about the ship. When he finally put them down, in the pilots chair the three of them paused in silent tribute. They had since been moved to the copilot’s seat, always on watch. They couldn’t stay there forever; they all knew that. But it was as good a place as any for now.

Hunter let out a sigh and heard Wrecker grunt and roll over on the bunk. He was unprepared for what was next. Had been all along really. There were no leads, he had no strategy, they were flying but he didn’t really know why or where. Echo’s comms were infrequent at best. Whatever he and Rex were up to, it was time consuming, and he couldn’t help feeling like Omega should be the priority. She had to be.

Hunter had this buzzing in his brain that got louder whenever he thought of Omega, especially the last few days. This was the longest they had been apart since they took her off Kamino. The Marauder seemed so lifeless without her, like every sun in the galaxy had shut off at once. He missed her giggle, and how she hovered too close as he practiced twirling his knife and the way her legs dangled from the gunner mount as she snuggled with Lula. He looked back through the ship to the tooka doll slumped under Omega’s chair.

They had stopped to gather supplies and every time desperately asked around as if by some miracle she had passed through.

“Have you seen a young girl, blonde hair, wide, bright, amber eyes”. They were always asked who she was to them, and Hunter always struggled to answer. She was the youngest member of their squad, their sister technically, but what she really was to him got caught in his throat. It was a word that clones didn’t use, had no use for really… Daughter. That’s what he wanted to say. “She is my daughter, our daughter” but how do you explain that? Besides, he knew it was useless. Omega was lost to Hemlock’s secret base. There would be no trace on some random planet. He knew that but it didn’t stop him asking, every time.

 A button on the far side on the console trilled and Hunter leaned over and flicked it off more aggressively than was necessary. Echo should still be here. He thought glumly. If Echo were missing, Omega would stop at nothing to get him back. How could he leave her? Leave them?

Hunter stood up and kicked the console to his right. Sharp pain radiated from his foot and up his leg like electricity. Yeah, that’ll fix everything, he thought bitterly, a broken toe. He wanted to brake things. He wanted to rage. Where was a battle droid in need of dismembering when you wanted one? He closed his eyes and took a breath. He had to focus. He had to plan. There was no margin for error, or doubt, or pain. He had to push it all down and push all the fear away. Because that’s what it was. Fear.

He had lost Tech. That was on him. His plan, his squad, his loss. He was responsible. He had left Crosshair. That was on him too. What if he was dead now too? What if he never got a chance to make things right? Omega was taken from him, from them. She was a child. She was his responsibility, and he had failed her too.

There was nothing about war that scared him, had every scared him really. It’s what they were made for. He feared for his brothers’ safety from time to time but as the war went on and they pulled off one daring, insane mission after the next, even that didn’t cross his mind. Wrecker using his head as a battering ram, okay. Tech hacking a separatist ship when they were outnumbered thousands to one, sure. Crosshair taking out a Tactical droid for 12 clicks, easy. But since Kamino, since the Republic fell fear was gnawing at his chest and now. After everything that had happened, that feeling seemed like it would consume him completely. The crushing weight of the last few weeks, few years, came crashing down on to him.

His hands shook. His breath rattled deafeningly in his ears. Fat tears fell onto his bandaged arm and refused to stop. He didn’t know how long he stood there, hunched over the console, arm outstretched as though to catch him if he fell, as if he had any strength left.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to catch his breath, just when he thought he would die from his despair and utter hopelessness, he felt a shovel sized hand grab his shoulder and pull him into a suffocating bearhug.

 Even with enhanced hearing, Hunter hadn’t known Wrecker was there until he was on top of him. He was too consumed in his overwhelming grief to notice. His body was shutting down. He was giving up. Wrecker’s mountainous form engulfed him so completely he had to tap on his shoulder to get him to loosen his grip. Hunter wasn’t much of a hugger, but he didn’t try to pull back.

Wrecker pulled away when Hunter’s breathing started to return to normal and gave his brother two sharp claps on the shoulder blade.

 “we’ll get ‘er back Hunta. We’ll get Cross back too.” he said earnestly. “it’s been days since you’ve slept. Why don’t you get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on things up here?”

Hunter steadied himself. His breath, his body, his mind. He gave his brother a curt nod, wiped his face on his uninjured arm and straightened his bandana over his forehead.

He wasn’t the type to lose control. There was always a way, there was always a plan, there was always…hope. 

This is so perfect!

@techwrecker I don't know what exactly you wanted, but I did this. When you said about Milo and Tech, that's just the first image that popped into my mind.

I need a show about their early days more than anything else in pop culture right now!

This is so real!

"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.

I’m so obsessed with this!!

Cadets.

A short fic for @summer-of-bad-batch and @the501starchives !!

Prompt: Cadets/ Injured

Summary: Young Crosshair struggles with being “different”.

Note: This was inspired by a short comic I saw!! Credit goes to Shyranno for the idea !

“Hey, defect!” A snobby little reg called from across the corridor. Crosshair ignored the brat and kept walking down the shiny white hallway. He wanted to be strong, stoic, like Hunter always was. But those stupid little perfect-faced regs kept attacking him, and over time it had begun to take its toll.

“What’s your problem?” One of them called, their voice laced with mock sympathy. “Get you face squashed in a door?” 

Crosshair bent his head down, anger spreading over his face. Ignore them, he thought. Like Tech said. They can’t keep burning if you don’t give them fuel.

Although he had quickened his pace to escape them, he got the opposite results. The group of regs started following him. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, adiik?” One of them chided, now matching his pace with Crosshair’s. These regs couldn’t be more than an average year older than him, they shouldn’t be calling him a kid.

Crosshair stopped in his tracks, whipping his head up to scowl at the “leader” of this idiotic little squad. The reg just smirked at him.

“Shut you mouth,” Crosshair hissed. So much for not giving them fuel. The reg took a step back holding his hands up. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Another one stepped up next to him, crossing his arms. “What’cha gonna do, defect?” They had officially crossed the line.

Before Crosshair even thought about it, he sucker-punched the leader kid square in the face. The reg stumbled back a bit, feeling at his nose. A thin stream of scarlet blood dripped down over his lips. The shock on his face was quickly replaced by fury, and Crosshair regretted throwing that punch.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one,” he said through gritted teeth, shaking the blood off his fingers.

Crosshair knew he would.

Several of the regs leapt on him, grabbing his arms and holding them tight behind his back. Panic swept over him and he squirmed, trying to kick behind him at the regs holding him. But then they grabbed his legs too.

“Too bad you’re already as ugly as you’ll get,” the leader said. He then punched Crosshair in the nose. A snap of pain blossomed from his nose, and he felt something warm trickle down his face. Apparently that hadn’t been enough for the bully, and he punched him again. And again.

Soon the other kids joined him, kicking him in the gut or in the shins. Crosshair had quickly given up fighting. He was outnumbered and overpowered. He would just have to wait until someone came along and…

“Hey!” A gruff voice called. All of the regs froze, turning to look up at whoever had found them. Crosshair’s right eye was swollen to the point where it was almost shut, but he could still see who had come to his rescue.

“What are you doin’?” Ninety-nine cried. “What are you beating ‘im up for?” His lopsided face was creased with hurt. 

“Mind your own business, defect,” the leader spat. Ninety-nine didn’t. He pushed through the little crowd of regs and stopped at the one who was holding Crosshairs arms. 

“Come on kid,” Ninety-nine said softly. “Let ‘im go.” The reg did so quickly, apparently much more afraid of him than his sassy leader.

Ninety-nine grabbed Crosshair by the shoulders and started leading him away from the bullies, who had silently resigned. 

After the two had turned a corner, Ninety-nine tried to convince Crosshair to go see a medic, but he refused. He was strong enough by himself. He didn’t want help. So, bruised and bloody, he stumbled into the room he called home and collapsed on his bunk.

Why does it have to be this way? He thought. Why couldn’t he be like all the other clones? And why couldn’t he be strong? How did Hunter do it?

He then realized why it was so easy for Hunter to be brave. He was like all the others. Beside his heightened senses, he was a reg. He could fit in. Crosshair couldn’t. 

Crosshair didn’t know how long it was before someone entered the room. But he could tell by the way they crept across the room ever so quietly that it was Hunter. Of course it was him. And now Crosshair would get lectured by someone who had it easy. 

“Vod?” Hunter said, settling himself on the edge of the bed next to Crosshair. “Go away,” Crosshair said into his pillow. Hunter sighed, almost inaudibly. “I know-“ he began, but Crosshair didn’t let him finish.

“No, Hunter,” he said, sitting up to face his brother. “You don’t know. You never will, because you’re like them. You don’t get bullied.” 

Hunter couldn’t find the words to respond, so, silently, after Crosshair retreated to his pillow, he left. His response wasn’t with words, because actions always speak louder. From then on, Hunter let his hair grow long, and he kept it that way. For Crosshair’s sake, he wanted to be different.

Love this adorable story. Just in time for Bad Batch Day! (yesterday)

Happy Bad Batch Day!

Have some fluff with a side of angst!

Omega rode on Wrecker’s shoulders, hands on his head, and peering forward excitedly at what he carried. With the lid of the box closed she couldn’t see or smell what they’d picked up from that strange place that smelled of sugar, and a million other sweet things she didn’t know of. The building had been out of the way, on the outskirts of the city, and looked much nicer than the majority of the buildings on Ord Mantell. She and Wrecker had been allowed a peak in the box to see if it suited their desires, and then it was all theirs.

“So what is that again?” Omega asked.

“Cake!” Wrecker answered, booming voice filled with enthusiasm. “Oh man, I can’t wait to eat it. I haven’t had cake in a whole year.”

“I haven’t had cake… ever.”

“Well that’s about to change.”

When they entered Cid’s place, Omega climbed off of Wrecker and onto the bar before kneeling on a stool.

Everyone in their squad gathered ‘round.

“You got it?” Hunter asked.

“It looks beautiful,” Wrecker told him.

Hunter opened the lid on the box to see for himself. From her vantage point Omega got another look at the white frosting, and the red 99 in icing on top. The large, round cake had red swirls all along the sides, and the red swirls circled the top of the cake.

“Wrecker, how much did this cost?”

Tech peered in, and adjusted his goggles. “Oh dear. We’ll be paying off Cid for life at this rate.”

Echo came over and put his arm around Tech. “Eh, it’ll be fine.”

“You don’t even like cake,” Tech argued.

“No, I hate whatever it was that you made last year.”

“Cake.”

“Not according to my taste buds.”

Wrecker laughed. “Who cares, we have a better one this year.”

“So what are we celebrating?” Omega asked as everyone set up, and Hunter was cleaning his vibroblade, perhaps to slice off pieces.

“Well, we don’t have birthdays,” Wrecker said.

Omega wrinkled her nose at the idea of birth. Gross.

“So we celebrate our decanting.”

“Hey, I was there for that!” Omega cried. “I… I really wanted to stay with you. All of you, till—till you’d know who I was.”

A tear slid down her face, surprising her, and she was shocked by the sudden, empty loneliness in her chest.

Wrecker put a giant hand on her shoulder, and wiped her tear away.

“It’s okay, kid. You’re with us now.”

Omega sat down. “And what about Crosshair?”

“Yes, it does feel odd doing this without him,” Tech said. “It’s… the first one he’ll miss.”

“Do you think that he’s okay?” Omega asked.

Hunter had a grim look on his face, and he responded honestly, “I don’t know. For now, there isn’t much we can do. We have to look at our losses, but celebrate what we do have. Yes, we lost one of our own.” His dark look turned into a smile, a loving warmth in his eyes as he beheld Omega. “But we gained something just as special.” He took her hand. “Do you want the first piece, Omega?”

She nodded, Hunter’s words drawing her from her melancholy. They were a soldier’s words, a leader’s words. And they were wise, and true.

Hunter gave a half-grin, and then said, “Actually, would you like to do the honors?”

He handed over his vibroblade.

Omega practically vibrated with excitement, and she was beaming at the blade, and Hunter, and the cake, and her family surrounding her.

“Would I ever?”

She took the proffered blade, and dug into the cake. She tried to make her slice proportionate, but she’d never done this before, so she ended up with an awkward triangle, the tapered point thin in comparison to the thick base. It wobbled onto the plate Echo held out, and flopped onto its side. Oops! Well, at least it was her piece she’d messed up.

Omega saw white frosting and some of the red icing on the knife, and started moving it towards her mouth.

“I’ll take that,” Hunter said quickly, grabbing it from her.

“What?” she asked, arms crossed in complaint until Echo handed her her plate and a fork.

“No licking knives.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. She was dying to try her slice, looking at the soft, dark color of the cake itself. It was probably moist, and sweet, and just perfect. The red icing complemented the red and near-black nicely. Yet she waited, making sure everyone had a slice.

They sat down at a table together, glancing at each other, seeing who would take the first bite.

Omega made sure it was her. She thought she was going to die from the perfection of her first bite. Contented sounds left all of them around the table.

“This… is so. Good,” Omega moaned.

Various nods, and mm-hmms met her.

“You got that right!” Wrecker said.

“I’m not saying this just because of the cake,” Omega started.

“Or are you?” Echo teased.

She flicked red icing at him, and they all laughed.

“What I’m trying to say,” Omega went on, “before I was rudely interrupted, is that… well, I’m glad you all exist. I… I’ve never had a family before, and that’s what you all are to me: a family. You helped me, gave me a home, and you’re super fun. I’m lucky to have you all.”

“And we’re lucky to have you,” Hunter said. “Now eat up. Come on, are we going to let this cake just sit here while we all talk?”

They laughed together, and dug into their cake once more, and Omega promised that someday, Crosshair would be celebrating with them.