#Week3

[archivewriter1ont]

"The World in My Arms"

Read here on Ao3!

Summary:

“Brown Eyes!” Tech jumped in his chair, Phee’s excited call ripping his attention from his book and making him knock over the mug that had been resting on his thigh. At least he had finished all the caf already. He hastily shoved the cup onto the side table and sprang to his feet, starting toward the kitchen at almost a sprint. Even with the limp that he had been left with from his fall on Eriadu – that he would have forever – he could still move rather quickly when the occasion arose. Being loudly summoned by his pregnant wife was just such an occasion.

For the @summer-of-bad-batch prompts: "Give me your hand" and "Can you hear me?"

[foxwithadarkside]

Summer of Bad Batch 2025

@summer-of-bad-batch

Week #3

Main Prompt: “Give me your hand.”

Alternate Prompt: Brothers

Bonus Prompt #3: Pabu Culture

@lonewolflupe @eclec-tech @eobe @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf

[blackseafoam]

“Give me your hand.”

@summer-of-bad-batch

[king-of-docks]

@summer-of-bad-batch

Week 3: Give me your hand

[catnipster69]

@spn20fest Week Three: The Family Business. An AU where Sam and Dean are turned into Pusheen and Pip. Since they're cats, "Saving People" isn't their highest priority, but if that happens, that's cool.

Thanks to @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis for a preliminary sketch to get me going.

[imperialsprig]

Alternate Prompt: Brothers

08/39

@summer-of-bad-batch

[kybercrystals94]

The Scare House

Read here on Ao3!

@summer-of-bad-batch | Week 3: "Give me your hand." / Brothers | Week 4: "Can you hear me?"

Rated: G | Words: 1141

Summary:

“Well,” Hunter says, steeling himself. “No way out but forward, right, boys?” “Awwww,” Wrecker keens. “Will you hold my hand, Tech?” “Absolutely not,” Tech declares. 

The boys visit a scare house. It does not go as planned.

Crosshair moves to walk through the entrance first, but Hunter catches him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Oh no you don’t. Back of the line.” 

The sniper rolls his eyes, but relents, stepping aside with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. “Fine. Ladies first.” 

“Crosshair should be in the middle,” Tech argues. “He can attempt to scare us just as easily from the back.”

Crosshair grins wickedly. “You know me so well.”

Wrecker is wringing his hands together. “Do we gotta do this?” 

“We already bought our tickets,” Echo says. “No refunds.” 

Hunter massages the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “We’re holding up the line.” 

“It should go Hunter, myself, Crosshair, Wrecker, then Echo,” Tech decides. 

Echo gapes. “Why do I have to be in the back?” 

Tech shrugs. “Because we trust you?” he offers. 

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not holding Wrecker’s hand when he gets too scared.” 

“That’s rude!” Wrecker protests. 

“This was your idea in the first place!” 

“I didn’t know how scary it was gonna be,” Wrecker whines. “Look at this place!” 

“It’s a fairground attraction. It’s not actually haunted,” Crosshair huffs. 

Tech adds, “Not to mention that we’ve seen literal children going inside looking perfectly content and unperturbed.” 

Wrecker balks, a pout on his lips as he glares up warily at the garishly decorated front of the scare house. 

“Your bunk on Kamino is scarier than this,” Crosshair continues, grabbing Wrecker’s arm. “Let’s go.” 

The members of Clone Force 99 move, stepping through the doorway in Tech’s prescribed order, Crosshair practically dragging a reluctant Wrecker behind him. The door slams shut firmly behind Echo, eliciting a startled yelp from Wrecker and a snicker from Crosshair. While the Batch have never personally gone through a scare house before, they’d heard plenty of tales from Echo. Their curiosity had been adequately piqued, particularly Crosshair. However, Echo’s detailed reports had not properly prepared them for the musty scent that assaulted their nostrils, the eerie dim lighting, or the unexplained noises rustling and tapping and knocking. Disembodied footsteps, sinister laughter, and faint, distorted music.

The pattering sound of little feet darting across their path makes Hunter stop abruptly, Tech bumping into him, Crosshair into Tech, and Wrecker nearly tripping over the three of them.

“What was that?” Wrecker squeaks. 

Echo chortles from his lurking presence in the back. “You’re holding up the line, Hunter!” he calls. 

Hunter growls a swear under his breath as he continues forward again. 

“Hunter,” Crosshair admonishes gleefully, “there are children present.” 

The Batch continue their trek forward, their line now compressed so that they are practically walking on each other’s heels. Wrecker reaches forward blindly. “Give me your hand, Cross.” 

“Ew, no! Get your sweaty hands away from me.” 

“Echo,” Wrecker implores. 

“You’re fine. Keep moving.” 

Then the first jumpscare happens. A panel in the wall jostles violently as if someone or something is trying to break through. The squawks of surprise are impossible to untangle, but the disturbance is followed by a brief, awkward silence. Then laughter from Crosshair and Echo. The continued silence of the remaining members is telling. 

With a fortifying lungful of artificially staled air, Hunter pushes on, determined to get this ordeal over with as soon as possible. Tech is muttering under his breath about the mechanics must have been triggered, while Wrecker continues to wheedle with Crosshair and Echo to let him hold their arm or something. 

It is only half a minute later that the next scare occurs, this time in the form of Crosshair bolting from his established place in the line. With a terrifying, breathy laugh, he skirts past Tech and Hunter in the narrow hall, evading their grasps when they try to catch him, and disappears around the next corner. 

“Crosshair!” Hunter calls. “Get back here!” 

He doesn’t come back. 

“That is unfortunate,” Tech sighs. “Now we have the attraction and Crosshair to contend with.” 

“Well,” Hunter says, steeling himself. “No way out but forward, right, boys?” 

“Awwww,” Wrecker keens. “Will you hold my hand, Tech?” 

“Absolutely not,” Tech declares. 

The remaining squad creeps forward, taking each twist and turn cautiously. Even Echo has sobered at the unexpected development of a living, breathing monster prowling in the unknown before them. Unfortunately, their excessive wariness amplifies the effectiveness of jumpscares tenfold. Between abruptly rattling doors, sudden bursts of air, startling appearances of inanimate creatures, and a frightening lack of a certain sniper – the Batch are about at their wits end. Echo even relents to Wrecker clinging one paw of a hand around his scomp in compromise. The knowledge that Crosshair could leap out at any moment did not help matters in the slightest. 

“This is ridiculous,” Echo grumbles. “Where the kriff is he?” 

Hunter calls out, “Crosshair! I know you can hear me!” 

The only answer is the generic evil laugh track that has been haunting them since they entered the house. 

“Kriffing menace,” Hunter mutters. “We’ll find him eventually.” 

Tech hums. “More likely he’ll find us.” 

“I hate this,” Wrecker groans. 

“Yeah, we know,” Hunter says. “Let’s keep going.” 

Hunter slides around the next corner and blinks when he sees a well lit sign marking the exit. The hall is straight and narrow, all smooth, dark walls. Not a single place for a rogue clone to hide away and leap out. His brothers crowd in behind him, peering around with the same stupified, slack expressions. 

“This is it?” Echo asks. 

Tech turns and looks back the way they came. “Perhaps he intends to come up behind us?” 

“Then let’s get out of here,” Wrecker decides, and, emboldened by the promise of escape, shoulders to the front of the line to practically run to the door. 

Hunter, Tech and Echo are right behind him. 

The moment they break out of the scare house and into the fresh air and natural light, Echo soundly closes the door behind them – locking in the lanky, toothpick eating monster on their six. 

“About time the four of you showed up,” Crosshair drawls beside them.

If they weren’t in broad daylight, the four in question might have been able to assert they didn’t startle at the sudden voice of their missing brother. However, Crosshair's amused grin leaves no room for petty lies. 

“You’ve been out here the whole time?” Hunter demands. 

Crosshair, leaning against the wall, pushes himself upright and stretches lazily. “Sure have. Why? Did you miss me?” 

“We thought you were around every single corner,” Echo gripes. 

“Mmmm,” Crosshair muses. “That must have been…” he glances up, as if searching for the right word in the innocent white clouds overhead, “...unsettling for you.” When he is pinned with four bleary glares, he smiles. “But extremely enjoyable for me.” “Well,” Echo says, rolling his eyes, “At least one of us had a good time.”

END

Author's note:

This story is entirely based on actual events 😈 Have I pulled this exact prank on my own siblings? Yes, yes I have. Do I torment family members when we go to scare houses to this day? Absolutely I do. Have my sister and brother-in-law clung to my hands to keep me from running off during a haunted maze? Yes. Did I manage to escape their grasp? Also yes.

Do family members continue to put themselves at risk by attending these attractions with me after all these years? Of course...tis tradition! *And I think they secretly love it! 😇*

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @skellymom

[summer-of-bad-batch]

Week #3

Main Prompt: “Give me your hand.”

Alternate Prompt: Brothers

Tags: #summerofbadbatch2025 #week3 #give me your hand #brothers

@lifblogs @leapingbadger @pandorademos @snitchcrimsonwrites @boredzum-671 @arlothia @locitapurplepink @dizzy-9906 @jordosprout @eternalqueenofnaboo @mae-lou-ron @dangraccoon @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig @99aceace @indigofyrebird @anechoinhere23 @bonaxie @sacredsonatas @toutorii @callme-naomi @artdoc-draws @royallykt

[paperback-rascal]

Artwork done for @summer-of-bad-batch's week 3 prompt - "It's just a scratch".

===

STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

[pandorademos]

"What are you two doing?"

"Oh. Forget I asked"

Echo has somehow managed to sleep through becoming a mermaid. He thought he was safe to get some sun finally. Evidently, he was not.

4th prompt of @summer-of-bad-batch 😎

[neyswxrld]

one big step

Crosshair x gn!reader

summary: Plagued from horrible nightmares, you make your way over to Crosshair's bedroom, looking for some comfort.

warnings: reader has nightmares in the beginning, in which crosshair dies or gets hurt in various ways, pre-relationship, some hugs and snuggles, sharing a bed

words: ~1380

a/n: hello! it's been some time since i wrote a crosshair x reader fic. even though it's a rough start, it's mainly fluff and soft!crosshair. this is also a fic for @summer-of-bad-batch, with the prompts "forget i asked.", hugs and nightmares. i hope you enjoy!

Crosshair gets shot.

Crosshair jumps off a cliff, trying to land on a smaller one below. He misses.

Crosshair gets stabbed.

Crosshair is crushed by falling containers.

Crosshair stands too close to an explosion. He blows up.

Crosshair is surprised in his gunner's nest. He doesn't make it.

Crosshair's other hand gets cut off.

Crosshair lying on the floor, lifeless.

Crosshair gets tortured, his wailing a sound you'll never forget.

Crosshair, smeared with blood. His own blood.

Crosshair, slumped in a corner, unmoving.

Crosshair, dead.

Dead. He's dead. He's dead and he won't come back again. Not ever.

You'll be alone with all those horrors in your memories. You'll never be happy and careless again without him.

You're the one who is tortured. Who falls off the cliff. Stabbed. On fire. Dead.

Dread fills you, pain everywhere. In every fiber of your body. It hurts- it hurts so much- and you're alone. All alone.

You wake up, screaming.

It's dark, the air too hot. You're sweating and shaking at the same time. Your lungs scream for air, you're breathless.

Where are- Where are you? It's dark. Too dark, you can't see a thing.

Outside there's some noise, it sounds like a broke radio: all you hear is an unsettling kshhh that comes in waves, but it's not as aggressive as you remember it.

It's hot. So hot, that your hair stick to your face and your bed feels disgustingly wet.

Suddenly, there's a scream.

No, not a scream - a bird. A bird that twitters this weird melody. You know that melody from... from... home.

It's your neighbor's bird. At this unholy hour.

You swallow, start to reach around.

Wood, something soft, and then metal. You tap the metal, and it gets brighter in your room.

Your room. With the yellow walls, the wooden furniture and the many photos and paintings on the wall.

You're at home.

At home.

You take another shaking breath.

It was just - just a nightmare.

But you're still unsettled.

Crosshair- he was dead, killed in too many different situations.

You swallow, your throat feels dry, and you reach for your glass of water on the nightstand.

You empty the glass.

It calms you down a bit.

But you're still shaking, so badly.

You know it was just some stupid nightmare, but - but you just couldn't calm down completely.

Is he fine?

Yeah, of course he is. He's just two rooms over, probably sleeping like a baby. Without any nightmares.

But, what if not?

Before you think twice about it, you're up and sneaking through the dark halls and only stop in front of his room.

Quietly, you knock and after getting a sleepy "what", you open the door quietly.

It creaks, and makes you jump.

"Sorry- I- I just- are you okay?" you ask him.

His room isn't as dark as yours - his curtains are open and a silver ray of moonshine lights up the small room.

He looks at you from his bed, buried beneath his blanket.

"Yeah, of course I'm okay. It's in the middle of the night, what did you expect?" he asks, not amused by you waking him up. You know how much he appreciates his sleep and at the same time he's just right - of course he's okay. It's in the middle of the night.

"Oh- I- s-sorry," you stammer and try to walk out backwards again, your eyes on his.

He looks at you contemplating, sitting up after a second.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks after a few seconds. Your hands were still shaking, and you are still just about to cry.

"Yeah- yeah I just- I had a nightmare, and you died and- I was alone and- Just wanted to make sure you're still here and okay," you stumble over your words, and you see how Crosshairs face softens.

"Yeah I'm fine. I- are you?" he says, and you could hear worry in his tone.

You swallow and try to say yes, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You're still scared shitless, and agitated. Nothing was fine.

Crosshair seems to notice as much.

"Do you want to talk? Come here, you can... Do you want to sleep here?" He then proposes and your breath hitches.

You know you like him a lot. Like a lot a lot. And sometimes you feel like he likes you too. In the same way, you like him. But then again - none of you never took it a step further. You are just friends that could be with each other a lot. It felt like the two of you were too shy to do anything about it. But this time, it feels like he just made such a big step at once. And you are ready to take him by the hand and walk that step with him.

Of course, he still could just mean it in a friendly way - but he didn't need to ask you if you wanted to stay the night.

He could just have asked you to talk to him and then send you off again.

But sleeping in his bed feels... intimate. It is special. And it definitely isn't something you'd do with just a friend. Not in Crosshair's world, at least. And not in yours, either.

You know that. And he knows it, too.

With a head full of thoughts, you almost forget to answer. Only when Crosshair's voice sounds across the room again, you remember that he indeed asked you to talk with him, and to be with him tonight.

But Crosshair's words are not what you expect: "Forget I asked," he says after a few minutes of just silence.

You swallow. "No- I- you'd want that? I- of course I want to," you whisper and take a step closer.

Crosshair just looks at you.

"If your offer still stands..." you add.

Crosshair takes a few moments, in which you fear he already changed his mind and instead of getting a step forward, you just took three steps back, but then he nods a single time.

You come closer and carefully sit next to him.

He lifts his blanket and lets you slip under, close to him.

You feel his warmth, his body. His chest raises with every breath he takes, and suddenly you're just so close.

"You just... died. So many times," you whisper and start to tell him about your disturbing nightmare. You feel how tears well up in your eyes again, but you pull yourself together and stop yourself from crying. He's fine.

Crosshair listens, and nods. When you finish, he's quiet for a few seconds.

"I- don't know what-" he begins to say, hesitating. Then he sighs quietly.

"I'm not the best at comforting others," he admits quietly. "But... Wrecker really appreciates hugs," he then says. You see some insecurity in his eyes, and you soon realize it's because he doesn't want to hurt you or say the wrong things. So instead, he just asks: "Do you want a hug, too?"

A small smile appears on your lips.

"If you're okay with that, I'd love to," you whisper back. You're not sure if you see it right, since it's dark and his face is just lit by the moonlight, but for a second you think his face becomes a little peachy.

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't," he says and carefully lays an arm around you.

You sigh quietly, embracing him and his warmth, and put an arm across his stomach, too.

Together, you slide down and you nestle your head on his shoulder, drawing small circles around his stomach.

Even though the night started in such a horrible way, it's easy to find an upside about it all. You and Crosshair were far away from talking about your feelings for each other, and you sure as hell have a long road in front of you. But you were pretty sure you just took a big step on this road, and you are ready to gear up and take some more.

You fall asleep just moments later.

This time, you don't have any nightmares or other disturbances, and for the first time in a long, long time you feel well rested when you wake up. Still in Crosshair's arms.

[foxwithadarkside]

Ok, there was Bad Batch Would You Rather: Would Hunter rather...let Omega paint his nails hot pink @callsign-denmark

Summer of Bad Batch Week 3

Alternate Prompt: “Forget I asked.” @summer-of-bad-batch

[lifblogs]

We Do This Together

Week 3

Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.”

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2599

Summary: Tantiss is embroiled in battle. Crosshair has been singled out by CX-2. During the fight, CX-2’s helmet comes free, and Crosshair is met with an all-too familiar face.

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

READ ON AO3

Crosshair’s breath caught when the operative’s helmet came off in his grip. Everything seemed to still as they froze in their stances, even the world’s very rotation at the whims of what happened on this pitted and half-destroyed platform.

No. No, no.

This was impossible. How?

Crosshair’s panting from the fight renewed, his heart pumping hard, adrenaline still shooting like cold-hot needles through his system. And his stomach clenched, feeling like it might fall right out of him. The ruined durasteel platform seemed to drop out from beneath him from where he crouched; the muggy, smoky, night air was some other man’s air; the flames and explosions nothing but a background that was fading away like a nearly-forgotten dream. Or perhaps the dream was before him.

Crosshair tried to speak.

His breath caught.

When he did speak he realized it was with a guttural sob, the name wrenched out from his twisted insides, injected with countless days and moments of grief, with head-spinning confusion, and the deepest horror born right in the bowels of this cursed mountain: “Tech.”

The operative—Tech—had had his face set in a grimace, a hatred of some sort. At this name—his name—his features softened. No longer was he looking at Crosshair like he was planning best how to defeat him. His eyes were wide, vulnerable.

Then he frowned, brows scrunching together.

“Why… Why would you say that? What does it mean?”

Shaking, wanting to look for his family amidst the screams and blood and fire coming back to him, but knowing he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man in front of him, Crosshair stayed, he held his ground. Perhaps he couldn’t even move as it was, or look elsewhere. What if he blinked and Tech was gone? His eyes burned without the safety of his helmet on.

“That’s…” He licked his dry lips, but to no avail. “That’s your name,” Crosshair got out.

Horror still clenched his gut. Horror from those months they’d thought him dead, from… from everything. They’d failed him.

They’d failed him.

Crosshair couldn’t fail him now.

Tech was missing his left eye, a cybernetic one in place of his real one, scars ripping furrows across the left side of his face.

Crosshair looked him over, knowing these were surely not the only injuries he’d sustained from his fall.

Staring across from him was suffering in its deepest form, twin to his own, perhaps.

I did this.

“I… I don’t have a name.”

Crosshair somehow managed to shuffle closer. What few pieces were left of his heart broke when Tech moved back, moved away from him. His head was down now, and he was clearly thinking hard.

“Yes, you do. You do. Your name is Tech. I’m… I’m your brother. Crosshair.”

“I—”

Crosshair was on his knees, begging, “Please. Please, just… just listen to me. You’re a clone, a defective clone, made on Kamino, part of Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch. Your number is CT-9902, and your name—your name—is Tech. You chose it because you’re smart—smarter than anyone—you’re good with technology, with everything you put your mind to.”

“No. No, no. I’m CX-2.”

“You love your datapad (we could barely get your head out of it some days), you love languages, you record everything even when it annoys the ever-living shab out of us, you love to talk about the weirdest creatures out there, your favorite color is dark blue because it makes you think of the blue in clear night skies, the blue between the stars, pistols are your favorite type of blaster, you love to pull the craziest stunts while flying, you… you have a family: me, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Omega. And there’s someone waiting for you. Phee? You told her all about my sparkling personality, you—you told her about me even though I was still with the Empire. Somehow I still mattered to you then. And you matter to me… to us.”

Tech was sounding out each of the names Crosshair had spoken, as if trying to see if anything felt familiar, like trying to put stars back in a sky full of holes.

“Please, you have to believe me.”

Tech stilled, and so did Crosshair.

When Tech looked up there was a grim determination, something burning in his right eye, though tears tracked down his cheeks, running in rivulets through his scars.

The hot air was like mud, leaving Crosshair barely able to move. All he could do was watch as Tech moved into the perfect stance to level his blaster at him: kneeling on one leg, torso perfectly straight, sights lined up. Crosshair had faced down the barrels of many blasters, even of tanks, but nothing frightened him more than this one.

“I have to assume this is either some tactic to stall for time, to try and control me, or… you’ve lost your mind.”

Crosshair ducked and rolled. Tech fired.

Crosshair knew he had to end this fight quickly. Tech would kill him.

With a cry he launched himself at Tech. He ended up on top of him, pushing hard against his rifle so he couldn’t use it.

“You’re my brother,” Crosshair insisted.

Tech fired, blast going sideways, and the recoil did its job, knocking Crosshair off balance.

“I am no one!” he cried, whacking Crosshair in the temple with his rifle.

Crosshair grunted. His world spun, nearly going black. Before he could gather himself, Tech was crashing into him, getting him onto his back. The butt of Tech’s rifle smashed against his chest, and he coughed, the air driven out of him.

“I have no one!” he insisted. “No family, no brothers, nothing but what Dr. Hemlock has given me.”

Every few words were punctuated with a blow.

Crosshair grabbed Tech’s arm, and he tried to get a knee under him, but Tech’s grip was too strong.

“Not… true,” Crosshair forced out.

Tech punched him.

He once again fought to stay conscious.

Then Tech grabbed his armor, lifting him up to snarl in his face, “Then what do I have?”

“You have me.”

Tech dropped him, and actually got up. Crosshair tried to lift himself up, but his head was spinning and pounding, his face throbbing and swelling from multiple blows. Blood was hot and wet on his face.

Tech stood, rifle leveled at him. Crosshair wondered if this would be the last thing he ever saw, and he hoped it wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to die (of course he didn’t), but because this would mean he had failed. Tech, who had apparently been a captive of the Empire this entire time, would remain so, their brother perhaps lost to them forever.

Crosshair wanted to rest his head back down in defeat, but the least he owed Tech was to stare his own death, his own failure, right in the eye.

“No, I don’t.”

A gunship laser hit a meter from Tech’s left. Maybe it was targeting Tech, maybe Crosshair, maybe it was nothing but an accident. The reason didn’t matter. It had happened.

Crosshair thought maybe he screamed as he watched Tech get thrown off his feet, tumbling through the air in a painful dance of twisted limbs. A human body was not meant to withstand that; even the force of the blast itself was surely too much to withstand. Fire erupted near him, debris rained down in squealing and crashing metal. The blast was deafening, and Crosshair shoved himself up onto his hands and knees. He’d lost sight of Tech and where he’d landed through all the fire.

Struggling to catch his breath, Crosshair tried to stand. The world dropped out beneath him.

He came to on his stomach, not sure what he was looking at, confused as to why he hurt so much. Sound was filtering back into him.

He lifted up his head, exploring his surroundings. Darkness and flames, durasteel, ruin.

Where am I?

It came back to him, and he burst into action, crawling, and scrambling across the platform.

Tech. Have to find Tech.

Crosshair saw his legs sticking out from under debris. He rushed over, and groaned as he moved the ripped up metal off of him, muscles straining.

Blood. Check for any blood, injuries.

A pipe was pinning Tech’s left leg, perhaps crushing it. Crosshair tried in vain to move it. It only budged a few centimeters, if that.

He examined Tech’s torso, his face, feeling him over.

He couldn’t find anything serious, but he knew something could be wrong internally that he couldn’t see.

Tech coughed, blinking his eyes open. Crosshair held his head in one hand, and was surprised to feel something harder than bone at the back of his head. A metal plate? Some kind of implant?

Oh, Tech.

Tech coughed, and Crosshair held him close.

Usually comforting words weren’t his style, but they spilled out of his mouth now like what he imagined a prayer might be, “You’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Tech reached up with a shaking hand and touched Crosshair’s face, following the lines of his tattoo.

“Crosshair?”

Crosshair would have broken out into a grin if not for the dire situation. Had he hit his head, knocking some memory loose?

“Yes, yes, it’s me.”

Kriff, he was crying again. He sniffled, and tried to hold in a sob.

Tech laughed, maybe the first and only laugh Tantiss would ever know. Some of its darkness crept away.

“You’ve gotten so talkative,” Tech observed.

“Well, I had to fill in for you, didn’t I? Now, are you okay? What hurts? Tell me—your leg?”

Tech looked down.

“That one isn’t real anyway. Not anymore.”

“I’m… sorry” was all he could say, no words in any language across the galaxy able to encompass the devastation wrought on their family.

“For what? You… didn’t lock me in here, you didn’t make me into this.” His voice was dark with hatred and shame.

“But I heard what happened. You tried to rescue me. You fell.”

“It was… my choice. My choice.”

“I got out,” Crosshair informed him, words practically punched right out of him. “Omega—s-she got me out. She finished your mission.”

Tech had a wide grin on his face that Crosshair could half-attribute to a possible concussion (something they both currently shared), but the rest was surely at Omega’s success.

“How about I get you out this time?”

Tech’s lips pulled together, chest heaving on a sharp inhale. “Crosshair.”

Fire raged around them, Crosshair and Tech starting to cough from all the smoke.

Crosshair tried to shove the large pipe aside, but to make matters worse, the other end was angled against what remained of the wall in such a way that it was stuck.

Tech sat up, mouth going a bit green around the edges, yet he tried to help.

“It is of no use. I require a blaster,” Tech said.

Crosshair paused.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Crosshair met Tech’s eyes, and he said, “Following your previous line of thinking, I have to work under the assumption that you’re pretending to know me so I can help you survive. Without me you’d die. I’m sorry, but I have to consider every odd.”

“I understand.”

Crosshair grabbed Tech’s rifle since he had lost his own, feeling odd holding it, feeling odd that Tech could even now use a rifle with such proficiency.

He shook that from his mind.

“What do I do?” he asked.

Tech directed him where to shoot—not at the pipe, but his leg. Crosshair hesitated, part of his brain not up to speed with the fact that this was a mechno-leg he was going to be firing at, and not a flesh one.

Crosshair took aim.

His right hand trembled.

Oh, please, no.

“Crosshair? Crosshair, what’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t do it.”

“You have perfect aim. You can—”

“No, I don’t!” he cried, ducking his head to hide his face. “That’s the problem, I don’t. Not anymore.” Crosshair was crying in fitful sobs punctuated by coughs. His shoulders slumped. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Fine, I do not really care whether you possess perfect aim or not. We need to get out of here.” Tech’s voice lost its composure. “Please, I… I have to get out.”

“You’re asking the wrong soldier.”

To Crosshair’s surprise Tech let out a frustrated growl. “For once you need to not be so severe and unyielding with yourself. The calculated odds are that you will hit my leg more times than not. This is the right plan. I believe in you.”

“Since when do you have belief?” Crosshair scoffed.

“Clearly, you have not been paying attention. I… I believe in my family,” he said, the words slow like he was surprised to find them true, surprised his mind was his own. “I believe in you.”

Crosshair faced him, and the surety in Tech’s gaze gave his body strength.

He lifted the rifle.

“Don’t put it right against my leg,” Tech instructed. “The force of the blasts could injure me, and I’d rather not have part of my spine remade again.”

Crosshair’s breath caught at the admittance of the pain his brother had suffered through.

Breathe. Just breathe. That was getting more and more difficult by the moment, the roaring of hot flames loud in his ears, heat hitting him like a solid object.

“Ready?”

“Go.”

Crosshair fired. The blast barely hit Tech’s leg. A scream wanted to leave him, but he held it in, gritting his teeth, chest heaving. He was shuddering.

“Again.”

Crosshair inhaled.

Exhale.

Squeeze the trigger.

The blast hit, burning through a third of Tech’s leg, sparks firing. He groaned, but otherwise made no protest.

With three more shots, Tech’s mechno-leg was completely separated above the knee.

Crosshair let out a hurried breath of triumph, and he released the rifle, leaning forward to wrap an arm around Tech to help him up.

Debris shifted and landed where Tech had been stuck. Sparks flew up, Crosshair throwing up an arm to shield their eyes. His stung, and even with his lids closed orange flickered in his vision.

They both struggled to properly stand, and then struggled even more to remain standing once that first feat had been accomplished.

Together they hobbled out of the fires. As they half-sat half-fell to the platform, leaning against each other to stay up, Crosshair noticed the back of Tech’s head was bleeding. He put a hand to it. The blood seemed to be coming from above the plate.

Tech winced. “I’m fine.”

Then he reached for Crosshair’s bloodied face, the injuries he’d given him.

Crosshair smiled.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Crosshair and Tech laughed together, tears running down their soot-blackened faces. Their foreheads pressed together, and that’s when Crosshair knew for sure that Tech was himself again, that his brother was able to come home.

Crosshair searched around for his helmet, which he could not find, and when he explained he needed his comm, Tech started fidgeting with a band on his armor.

Through Tech’s brilliance they were soon hearing their family’s voices, and they were okay, they were alive. Omega was free. Oh, Omega. They could almost, all of them, finally go home. They could go home.

Tech handed over the band. “Here.”

Crosshair couldn’t stop grinning.

“Hunter,” he said, watching the battle die down, gunships flying through the air across a brilliant dawn Tantiss had surely never seen the likes of before, a dawn they could all see, “you’re never going to believe this.”

[twinsunstars]

I'll Be Here For You, Brother

Summary: Crosshair thinks back to everything he endured on Tantiss, and Wrecker witnesses what he suffered.

Week 3 Prompts: "It's just a scratch" / "Forget I asked"

Notes: I thought about the scenes from Captain America: Civil War where the other people who had been given the winter soldier serum had been watching the Winter Soldier fight one of the others, so I took that and thought about the training/reconditioning the clones undergo with the CX operatives. Hence, this fic. Also felt like writing some Crosshair and Wrecker brother time. Thanks to @magicandmundane for brainstorming about one part of this fic with me and some dialogue inspiration! divider by @summer-of-bad-batch

Some content/warnings: Blood, scars, bleeding nose, description of open cut, shaking hand

“Again.”

The operative stood to attention, waiting for his opponent to get up. A clone prisoner groaned as he lay on the floor. He used his arms to push himself up to stand. A small headache sprung out of exhaustion, but no one around him would care. The clone stood and felt a bit dizzy. The operative in front of him stood still and patiently waited for the clone to be ready. However, he could have attacked out of his free will. 

“Begin,” Commander Scorch instructed. Other clones standing around watched as the operative used their strength to fight the clone placed against them in hard combat. The place they stood in wasn’t called a “training room” for nothing. The clones observed as the operative struck their opponent, swallowing anxiously until their turn to face the operative eventually came. They were all being tested for their strength under the orders of that merciless doctor to recondition each of them to become operatives just like the one they were watching. 

The clone put up a fight against the operative to the best of their ability. Days spent in the cells and the labs for routine testing made him feel slightly weak. He dodged each attempted hit performed by the operative. He was strong, just as he was reconditioned and reborn to be. 

The operative managed to strike the clone’s face, hitting his nose hard. The clone groaned and got up. Blood dripped from his nose. 

The operative pulled out a vibroblade and used it against the clone to further test their strength. The clone tried to avoid each rapid swipe of the blade made towards his body. He began growing tired, and the operative took this to his advantage. The operative found an opening and ran the blade through the clone’s prison uniform on the area of his left arm. The blade dug through the uniform and kissed his flesh, slicing his skin open. The clone grunted and placed a hand on the cut. He glared at the operative, who prepared to strike again. 

“That’s enough,” Scorch ordered. The operative put their vibroblade away and stood straight, obeying orders. The clone hissed as his cut began to sting. Blood began to stain the uniform. 

“Take CT-9904 to the medbay to patch up his wound.” Two troopers followed Scorch’s order. They signaled the clone to move forward. The clone walked alongside them out of the training room to head to the labs where one of the doctors could start treating his injury. 

Many clones were placed in one sector of the training room to fight against the CX operative to have their strength tested, and a few others were laid in machines designed to mess with their brains and work to recondition them to become soldiers loyal to the Empire. Their screams and painful groans could be heard as the clone and the trooper walked past that sector. Chills ran through the clone’s body while the injury stung. 

Crosshair exhaled and exited the refresher. The noon hours of the day had just begun, and Crosshair had slept in until the late morning. He had trouble sleeping while the nightmares of Tantiss replayed in his mind every day. Omega was there in the Marauder when he finally woke up, and with tough debates, she made him go get a proper bath. Shep, with a kind heart, allowed Crosshair to use the refresher in his home. Crosshair had mumbled a “Thanks”, and the kind local just chuckled with approval. Crosshair had to admit, the shower was a bit relaxing. 

He began to put on some clothes and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Many scar lines and bruises were visible around Crosshair’s full upper body. Each of them had been given to him by the operatives he would be put up against during all those reconditioning attempts in the training room. Tantiss had made it harder and harder for Crosshair to keep up with the continuous pain he was being put through. 

Clones would be sent into the training room every morning to begin the attempted reconditioning processes. Laying down in those cylinder-like machines, the electrical shocks used to mess with the clones’ brains to turn them into obedient soldiers burned their heads. Crosshair always developed headaches from those shocks. He could sometimes hear the voices of other soldiers who used to be loyal to the Empire just like he was in the not-so-distant past, telling him to follow in their footsteps. 

Good soldiers follow orders. 

The Empire is worth fighting for. 

Apart from the attempts of brainwashing and control, the clones were tasked with proving their strength and usefulness by combatting the operatives. Each would have a turn fighting against the operative until the operative pinned them down to the ground. The operative would use their strength and their blade to test the clones, no blasters. 

One day, they had finally stopped trying all the tactics on Crosshair, listing him as a clone considered impossible to become an operative. The reconditioning couldn’t work on him, but they still continued testing his blood and sending him to the training room with the other clones. 

The screams. The many injuries that were given to the clones by the operatives. The freezing cells. He felt like crying from all the pain. Everything was unbearable, but the clones who had not yet fallen to the reconditioning survived through it all. 

Crosshair sat on the bed in the room. He was alone in the house with only his thoughts. The operative they had run into on Teth was the same one Crosshair had fought against during all those training sessions with the other clones. All those combat sessions replayed in Crosshair’s nightmares he would have of his time at Tantiss. He couldn’t stop remembering everything he went through, and he didn’t want to remember them at all. His hand trembled every time he thought about the training room, and all those scars and bruises would continue to remind him of everything. Hemlock’s voice continued to taunt him in his mind and whisper in his ear. 

“If you had just followed orders, you wouldn’t be enduring so much suffering, would you?”

“Hey Crosshair, you good?” Wrecker’s voice surprised Crosshair. He stood up and grabbed the shirt Shep gave him just as Wrecker found him in the room. “Omega’s wondering-”

Wrecker stopped, catching a view of Crosshair’s scars and bruises. He couldn’t help but stand and stare in shock at his wounds. Wrecker was looking at his baby brother who was covered in so many injuries, and it hurt him to look at them. The only question that slipped out was, “Crosshair, what happened?”

Crosshair looked away and quickly put his shirt on, hiding his wounds. He sat down on the bed and kept his gaze away from Wrecker. “Nothing!” he snapped at him, sighing. “It’s just a scratch.”

Wrecker noticed Crosshair’s hand trembling again. He understood and instantly regretted asking the question that slipped off his tongue. “Uh, never mind,” Wrecker scratched the back of his head. “Forget I asked.”

Wrecker felt a bit hurt from the way Crosshair snapped at him and by thinking about what Crosshair was going through after enduring only the Force knows what back at Tantiss. He turned around to leave.

“Wrecker.”

Wrecker turned back right after hearing Crosshair’s voice call him. Crosshair still avoided looking at Wrecker, keeping his eyes focused on his hands. “What did Omega want?”

Wrecker thinned his lips. “Omega was wondering if you want to come out for a boat ride later. It’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

Crosshair could hear the worry in Wrecker’s voice. Deep down inside, he felt bad for snapping at him like that. Wrecker didn’t know anything. He was just worried for him. Crosshair hummed, which told Wrecker he would think about it and decide. He fixed his shirt and stood up, remaining silent. He didn’t expect large arms to wrap around him in an instant. 

Wrecker took Crosshair into a gentle hug. Crosshair had almost forgotten what Wrecker’s hugs felt like after being away from him for so long. Wrecker always used to wrap Crosshair into his arms playfully whenever they were together, mostly when Wrecker would tease Crosshair.

Crosshair stood still and didn’t say anything. He wanted to push Wrecker off him like he would always do, but he just felt like staying in this one. He felt like crying into Wrecker’s arms. He just didn’t want his older brother to see him like that. Wrecker seeing his wounds had already struck his heart. 

“Sorry, Crosshair.” Wrecker let go of Crosshair. “You just seemed like you needed it. I’m here for you.”

“Wrecker-”

“I know, I know. I won’t tell anyone about…”

Crosshair placed a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. He gave him a comforting nod. Wrecker sniffed and gave his little brother a small smile. He really missed him all this time, and Wrecker was happier than ever to have him back. 

“Let’s go find Omega,” said Crosshair. Wrecker blinked and nodded, trying not to cry. The two began to hear Omega’s laughter nearby, followed by small laughs from the young reg boys. Crosshair followed Wrecker outside to find the kids engaged in a ball match. 

Omega was the one who had gotten him out. She saved him. Wrecker wanted to help Crosshair feel safe, as Tantiss is long far away from them for now. His brothers and sister would be there for him. After such a long time, Crosshair let out one sigh of relief.

taglist: @summer-of-bad-batch @orion-tyche @bossboudicca @magicandmundane @kurlyfrii @ahsokashawarma1138 @locitapurplepink

Nini's Writing Masterlist

[infernalelf-writings]

Week 3: "Give me your hand."

Clone Force 99 has been sent on a mission by Commander Cody. On their way back to their ship, they encounter an obstacle that tests their resourcefulness and willingness to compromise. Lessons are learned and sacrifices are made as they have to prove once more that the Bad Batch lives up to their reputation.

Read here or on AO3 ->

The moment they saw the obstacle, they all knew it had been a severe mistake not to request proper intel before accepting the mission. Not that they would have had much of a choice, but they could at least have argued a little bit more before deployment.

“Tech,” Hunter said with a forced calm, his gaze stuck on the colossal cliff before them, “any ideas?”

“I don’t see any ledges or clefts, Hunter. Nothing.”

In the distance, a high wail interrupted by low growls could be heard, drawing nearer. 

“And we have approximately five minutes left,” Tech added matter-of-factly. 

“I suggest we try anyway,” Echo said with furrowed brows, “since there is no other way than forward.”

He was right. High cliff formations to their left and right made it virtually impossible to escape. They had walked right into a dead end. 

“What are we waiting for?” Wrecker yelled as the trampling of large paws came nearer and nearer. 

Without further delay, the clones tried scrambling up the almost sleek wall. Hunter managed it for two meters until he lost his hold and fell to the ground.

“No use,” Echo commented dryly as he helped his sergeant up. 

Suddenly, they heard a whir and saw Tech awkwardly pulling out a quite beaten-looking grappling launcher. “I estimate we have a 29 per cent chance of this holding all our weights, provided the grapple is strong enough to dig a hole into the wall.”

No one looked pleased about that revelation. Like a sad confirmation, a small trail of smoke evaporated from the launcher’s muzzle.

“Is that the rigged junk launcher you’ve been tinkering with the last couple of days?” Wrecker asked with a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“I’d rather take my chances with the hounds,” Crosshair remarked dryly, “if that rope snaps, we’re all dead.”

“Speaking of hounds,” Echo remarked, “I can hear them quite clearly now.”

“Alright,” Hunter said, his hand on his forehead, “Tech, we take our chances with the launcher.”

Tech adjusted the launcher, aimed at the sleek wall and shot. 

With a metallic clang, the grapple launched into the top of the wall. And stuck.

Hunter glanced at it with slight hesitation. “29 per cent, you said?” 

“Increased to 45 if we ditch our equipment,” Tech confirmed. 

Crosshair’s eyes widened with indignation. 

“All our equipment.”

Crosshair opened his mouth as if to argue, but he was interrupted.

“Not now!” Hunter’s eyes were blazing. Crosshair, face white with rage, complied, and they all rid themselves as fast as they could of their weapons and armour. 

“Wrecker, you and I stay back and buy some time!”

With their blasters still in their hands, they took formation at the foot of the wall, the howls becoming gradually louder. 

“Echo you first!” Tech yelled. With a leap, Echo reached for the rope and began climbing upwards swiftly. The rope wobbled dangerously, but as quick as a lizard, the pale clone managed to get two-thirds of the wall without further problems.

The others stood in formation, keeping a lookout for the beasts. At least they were nowhere to be seen yet. 

“Right, I’m up!” Echo yelled from above. 

“Tech, you next!” Hunter ordered.

Without hesitation, Tech complied and climbed up the rope with methodical precision. 

It was then that the Correllian hounds were breaking through the foliage of the jungle. 

“We don’t have any more time!” Crosshair yelled as he started shooting at the beasts.

“Next!” Tech informed them from above.

“Crosshair, go!” Hunter ordered as he saw the sniper’s hesitation.

Grumbling, he complied and made to climb the rope, not without shooting a vicious look at his sergeant. 

Crosshair made to climb the rope, trying to ignore the dangerous swinging and chafed material. He managed to reach the ledge where Echo was waiting with his hand outstretched when he heard the signature snap. He had about three milliseconds where his heart leapt into his stomach before he realised he was falling. Scrambling for a halt, he managed to grab the grapple that was miraculously still stuck into the wall. 

“Crosshair!” Without hesitation, Echo dove forward and reached for his brother. 

It took Crosshair all his strength to hold himself to the piece of metal stuck into the wall, his legs struggling for a hold. 

“Give me your hand!”

“I can’t, I'll fall!”

A fall this high and without armour would likely end with the sniper as a heap of broken bones. 

“Crosshair, hold on!” Hunter yelled from below.

“I’m trying!” He snapped back, clearly irritated. 

Tech chimed in, “Crosshair, take Echo’s hand!”

With enormous effort, Crosshair flung out his left hand and missed Echo’s fingertips by mere inches. 

Beneath them, things were turning for the worse. 

“The hounds are coming!” Wrecker yelled as Hunter and he were swiftly retreating towards the foot of the wall. 

Crosshair cursed and flung up his hand once more. This time, he managed to catch Echo’s hand and was hauled up with effort. 

“Hunter, throw me the rope, quick!” Hunter did as Echo asked, who caught it by its torn end.

Behind Echo, Tech was hastily tying the torn end around a thick tree trunk that stood near enough to the ledge. Still, the end that was dangling downwards from the wall was painfully short. 

“There are too many!” Wrecker informed them from below, as Crosshair counted no less than twenty hounds gaining up on them. They weren't too far away.

Without hesitation and some quick thinking, Wrecker grabbed his sergeant and squatted. 

“Are you mad—”

“Seargant incoming!” Wrecker yelled and unceremoniously catapulted Hunter towards the dangling end of the rope. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Crosshair had a hard time not laughing out loud. Nevertheless, he quickly stretched out his hand to help his sergeant up. 

“Quit smirking or I wipe it off your face, you di’kut,” Hunter muttered through gritted teeth as he got hauled up over the ledge. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Crosshair retorted happily. 

Below, Wrecker sounded like he had the time of his life. He was stunning the beasts left and right with gusto, but it was clear that he would soon be overrun by the beasts still charging at him at full speed. 

“Jump, Wrecker!” 

“Right on it!”

What they saw next defied all levels of sanity.

Wrecker again squatted and faced one of the charging hounds with outstretched hands.

“What is that di’kut doing?” Crosshair muttered.

With a cry, Wrecker caught the beast’s midriff mid-jump right as it was lunging at him and used the momentum to fling himself and the beast towards the rope. 

“That madman…” Echo commented in disbelief.

The madman in question had managed to grab the rope just in time to escape the first hounds biting at his ankles. 

Still, he almost forgot about the beast that kept trying to clamp its jaws around his arm, howling in misery with dangling legs. 

“Thank you and good riddance!” The yelp that the beast emitted was almost empathy-inducing as it was thrown downwards right into the snapping maws of its companions. 

Upon the ledge, the other clones were stuck between being stunned and scrambling to help Wrecker up. Echo and Tech were the first ones to move, quickly throwing themselves towards Wrecker’s outstretched hands as he was slowly making his way upwards. It took Hunter and Crosshair a little more time to catch on.

With combined effort, they managed to eventually pull their brother upwards, collapsing in panting heaps around the ledge. 

“What… what is wrong with you?!” Crosshair spat out between gulps for air. 

Wrecker laughed. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“It had a successful outcome ratio of 1:62.000”, Tech chimed in helpfully, already back up on his feet. 

“Oh well, that makes it better,” Crosshair snapped, still trying to regain his breath. 

“Stop arguing, guys, and be grateful it worked.” Hunter slowly got up on his elbows, his blacks chafed and torn in several places. To be fair, none of them looked any better.

“You absolute madman,” Echo only commented, shaking his head, as he was patting Wrecker’s shoulder, still in disbelief. 

With the obstacle now overcome, they trudged back quietly to their ship without encountering any more troubles, save Crosshair, who was overcome with grief when he realised that some hound probably swallowed his beloved rifle. The deathly looks he was continuously shooting at Hunter weren't bringing up the mood, either.

Never, not once again, would they trust Commander Cody without first checking the mission intel. Ever.

[imperialsprig]

“Give me your hand.”

07/39

@summer-of-bad-batch || reference image || @boggsart 's CX-2 3d model ref for the puppeteer ~ ♡