levi-venn

[levi-venn]

@huntressdarkness Thank you so much!! I've outlined the rest of my Droids of the Onyx Cinder series so when that's all done I plan to get back to the Mirror Squad with some more one-shot stories!

The Short Answer First!

"How exactly did they get into the hands of hemlock?"

The Mirror Squads was put on ice during the Clone Wars after Headshot tried to start a rebellion inside the GAR. Hemlock scooped them up during the evacuation just before Rampart destroyed Tipoca City.

"What do they think of Omega or the Bad Batch themselves?"

A fic emerged out of this question focusing on one of my favorite Batchers and my favorite Mirror Squad soldier. 

If you (or anyone!) would like to see more "Broken Mirror" stories, let me know who you'd want to see next! I’m always happy to scribble these out (I’m in Editing Hell with the sequel to my shyRobot book and I need BREAKS!!)

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Broken Mirrors: Circuit & Tech (cadet)

Tech was very impressed with himself for two reasons.

First Reason: This self-imposed recon mission went on for a whole month now, and Tech had yet to be detected by The Target.

Second Reason: Tech had successfully kept these recon missions a secret from his brothers. This was an astounding accomplishment considering Crosshair’s sobriquet for him was “Tech the Snitch”.

Tech had informed Crosshair that informing Hunter of potential problematic situations is not “snitching”. Crosshair responded by putting him in a headlock. 

Regardless, Tech would not snitch on The Target. At least, not until he understood what and who he was. 

As far as Tech could tell, The Target was a clone, and most certainly a defective one.

If this was the case, why was he kept separate from the rest of Tech’s batch? And why did Nala Se insist that after Memento’s passing, only four of his batch remained?

Until he could answer these questions, Tech would continue his recon mission. 

Using the ventilation shafts, Tech traversed over the Regs' bunks, the mess hall, and slid down several slanted shafts towards his favorite place in the whole facility: The Data Lake.

A cornucopia of knowledge. Shelves stuffed full of dusty tomes and between pristine holobooks, recycled air filled with the musty smell of history and aged flimsies, the soothing hum of low lights in the floors and distant roar of the ocean below.

And this is where Tech found The Target once again.

Crouching in his usual spot, safe in the shadows atop a shelf bare of any books, Tech was safe to observe the clone.

The clone was taller and lankier than an average Reg. His movements were quick and deliberate. Long fingers snatching books, light feet that hardly touched the ground as he moved from shelf to shelf. He was twitchy and erratic and noisy. His leg shook when he tried to sit. He hummed curiously when he seemed to find something pleasing in a book. He snarled suddenly as he'd throw a tome across the Data Lake's floor.

It was unclear if the clone was safe to approach.

And when the clone muttered to himself, occasionally letting out a brief, high-pitched laugh, or perhaps a choked sob.

Tech didn't intend to meet him anytime soon.

***

Circuit let out a pained laughed. 

The Data Lake was bone dry of the information he sought. A cruel irony that all he needed was something to help quiet his mind, focus himself inwards, give him a few moments of reliefs.

Every book suggested mediation, a warm glass of blue milk, a reflection inward. 

I am trapped within a body that won’t rest, in a mind that won’t hush. Silly books, I am very inward. Too inward. Please...please let me out...

He flung the holobook behind him and leapt to the next shelf, fingers gliding across each spine while his glowing red goggles scanned the titles, flashes of synopses whirring in front of his eyes far quicker than a Regs’ eyes could read.

The little one was here again tonight. Watching him. As if shadows could hide him from Circuit.

The cadet was clever enough to stay hidden, but brave enough to return to this place. The cadet had no idea how lucky he was that it was Circuit he found. Void or Striker would have eaten him alive...metaphorically...probably.

“You’ve been watching me.”

No reply.

Circuit looked up at the darkness where he knew the little one hid. Too scared or too smart to move. Circuit’s helmet and gloves were still on one of the study desks. He would not be a complete shadow…but still…

He fell back into the darkness between the high shelves, skittering around the room, letting the echoing acoustics of the Data Lake mask where he moved. Deftly he climbed the shelves, avoiding cones of illumination, skirting the cadet's line of sight until...

...he was just behind the cadet.

“There you are.”

The cadet yelped and spun, hand reaching for his hip where a blaster would have rested had he worn a belt tonight.

Circuit crouched like a gargoyle inches from the cadet’s face, studying him with unblinking brown eyes behind red lenses. The cadet's eyes were round eyes, magnified behind yellow-tinted goggles. He had a paler pigmentation than his own, lighter brown hair, thinner and straighter.  

But the same brown eyes. Same wild-eyed wonder in the face of Fear.

Fascinating...

He could see his own reflection in the boy’s goggles, the gaunt cheeks, square jaw, a ghost of a Reg.

A ghost of this boy perhaps? A living spectre? A preemptive haunt?

He let out a sudden, unhinged laugh that shattered like broken glass against the soft silence of the room.

The boy recoiled, clutching his legs.

“You’re not a Reg.”

Circuit’s lip curled. Crunch often complained his smile was menacing, but it couldn't be helped. Humor always pulled back his lips to bare his teeth. 

“And neither are you, little one.”

“You're a defective clone then.”

“Defective…” Circuit hadn’t slept in fifty-four hours and his neck felt rubbery, he let it roll around briefly before looking at the cadet again. Crunch once said he looked like a marionette with its strings cut.

He liked puppets. They felt...relatable.

He didn't fight his brain as it unraveled again...

“...Deficient, yes. Demonstrative and devilish. Defiant, but dependable. Demanding. Devastating. Dev...dev...Did you know that Devronian horns continue to grow post-mortem?”

The boy perked up suddenly. “I did know that. Did you know that in Devronian culture it's customary to mount their horns of the deceased's tombstone?”

“I did,” Circuit hunched like a gargoyle, his back arching in delight at this exchange. “Did you know that a Devronian soldier's tombstone is often comprised of common cement and the bone dust of their enemies?”

The boy cracked a smile. “No…no I did not. That is fascinating.” He paused then extended a hand “I’m Tech.”

Circuit regarded the hand. It was still shaking from fear...or adrenaline…or both.

“Circuit.”

He took Tech’s hand, but did not shake it. He simply held it and squeezed, willing it to stop trembling.

Stop shaking.

After fifty-four hours of no sleep, his own hand was shaking, too. On missions he took stimulants to calm it. Now...it just vibrated freely.

Tech seemed to notice this and he put a small hand over Circuit’s as if having the same thought.

Stop shaking.

The shaking stopped. Circuit felt...not calm...never calm...

...his shoulders sagged.

“What did they do to you?” Tech asked, quietly.

That question. Such a question. Where to begin? Where to end? When does it end?!

It was as if a hundred flies were plucking at the spiderweb inside his mind, calling attention to a hundred different scenarios, experiments, trials, tears, and terror, and please...make it stop...

He squeezed Tech’s hand tight and pushed through the Noise so he could speak. 

“They put Everything in my head.” Circuit laughed at the sudden thought of a Kaminoan scientist opening his head up like a pickled meiloorun jar and pouring an ocean of Thoughts inside.

“So much. Too much. All of it. It doesn’t stop. They made my mind exceptional. Then overclocked it to madness.”

He released Tech’s hand before he could accidentally crush it and sat down, drawing his knees to his chest. 

“I…” Tech’s words were slower than Circuit’s, methodical, and Circuit could see those bright brown eyes move rapidly as he absorbed the information he received. “...also have an exceptional mind. It processes information far faster than Regs and I am able to retain 99.88% of information provided to me.”

“How is the Noise?” Circuit asked.

“The what?”

Circuit tapped his temple with two fingers. “The Noise. The Thoughts. The Waterfall of Information that gushes so loud it roars in a silent room.”

“There’s…no noise.” Tech thinks for a moment. “Or…maybe I’m the Noise. My brothers say I talk too much and fill their head with useless facts. I talk a lot because there is a lot to say and…” Tech frowned a little. “...I can’t  help myself.”

Circuit tilted his head to the side. “Headshot says I should talk more. That all those thoughts fill my head like hot air in a balloon and one day I’ll pop.” Circuit’s voice cracked as he laughed. “But...I’ve already popped. I pop every day. Popopopoppoppoppoppop.”

Tech reached out and grabbed Circuit’s hand again and squeezed it hard. 

Circuit quieted. His head bowed.

“Will we join your squad?” Tech asked. "When we're older?"

“No.” More words bubbled in his head - Nononononono - but Tech’s firm grip anchored him.

“You sound very sure. How do you know?”

“Because we are the trial run, the first pancake, a sample size, and you and your brothers are the Real Batch. The Success. You’re flawed perfectly and we are perfectly flawed.” Circuit giggled, but he forgot what was funny. He sighed…he was tired… “My brothers don’t understand. Every exercise we complete, every mission we execute, every success and win are all for you. When they push us to our limits, that data is used to pull you up to your potential.”

Circuit looked at Tech and felt an odd sense of pride. “You are the Real Batch. We are just a mirror, trapped in a foggy mirror. A dull reflection to what you are and will become.”

Tech’s eyes dropped a moment, his pupils quivering slightly as he ingests what Circuit told him. 

“Did…Memento have a mirror?”

“Yes. His name is Void.”

“We lost Memento because of his defects.”

Circuit squeezed Tech’s hand only to find that Tech was clinging to him just as tightly. “I know you did, little one. I’m sorry.”

“It was predicted that he wouldn't live long past adolescence," Tech said, and Circuit was sure he heard a small sniffle, though no tears were perceived. "But thank you.” After a moment he asked. “Is Void healthy?”

Circuit’s laugh snapped like fire popper and it echoed through the Data Lake. “What is healthy to a defective clone?” His laugh quieted, shriveling into a weak sigh. “He is as broken as any of us, but he will live as long as we are allowed to survive.”

“Are you worried they’ll retire you?” Tech asked.  

Circuit shook his head. “We are useful still. They will stress test us until we die or until we are relocated for additional experimentation. My brothers want to believe we will be a part of the upcoming war, but…I believe our journey will end elsewhere.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Tech said. “You can meet my brothers. We can be one big squad.”

More pride gushed into his heart so suddenly Circuit wondered if it would burst from his chest, a fountain of blood and happiness. He suppressed another maniacal giggle. “That’s a nice thought, but we are not the main characters of this story, Tech. We crawl so you may run. It is how it is.”

“How long have you known about us?” Tech asked.

Circuit grinned. “Since you were a legume in a tube.”

Tech frowned. “Why have we never met?”

Circuit’s tired head rolled around again. “It is safer this way. We are not safe. You are not safe with us.”

“What do you mean?”

Circuit pulled his hand away to roll up his sleeves. He showed thick lines of scars overwritten by erratic, intricate artwork of vectors and circuits and formulas. Scars were overwritten by new ink, overlapped with newer scars and scratched over by even newer ink. “Saying that we are unstable is equivalent to saying the galaxy has a few stars in it.” 

Tech’s brown knitted upwards and he reached out to take Circuit’s hand again. Circuit fought his impulse and pulled farther away.

Safer. Better this way. For him. All of this is for him...

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Tech asked. 

Circuit should've said no. He should never return to the Data Lake, sever this connection before it got too strong.

Before I feel too Real.

“I will…If I am not sleeping.”

“Oh.”

Circuit sneered. “...that was a joke. I never sleep.”

“You’re...insomniacal?”

“An insomniac,” Circuit gently corrected.

“Ah of course. An insomniac. Did you know that Insomnia causes hallucinations?”

“Yes, are you a hallucination?”

Tech gave a short laugh and shook his head. “No.”

Circuit offered his hand for a final shake. Tech clutched his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I hope sleep finds you tonight.”

Circuit watched Tech slip back into the ventilation shafts, then he returned to his own brothers in a bunk at a safe distance from where the New Batch slumbered.

Instead of crawling into his own bed, he slithered into Crunch’s bunk. Crunch’s loud snores halted with a snort and he blinked sleepily at Circuit. 

“Wot?” Crunch asked.

“Hold hand,” Circuit demanded, plopping his pillow beside Crunch’s. Short words worked best with Crunch’s brain, a brain that was as loud as Circuit’s, though far thicker.

“Mmmph.” Crunch wrapped his large mitt around Circuit’s hand and squeezed to point it almost hurt. He then resumed his chest rattling snores.

The physical contact seemed to scare away the bothersome flies plucking at Circuit’s mind. In fact, the Noise was quieter than it had been since he was ripped from his birthing tube. 

He slept for two hours.

It was glorious.

[levi-venn]

@summer-of-bad-batch

Week 3: alternate prompt: Brothers

Crosshair and Tech cuddling. They are twins your honor.

[levi-venn]

Hm

Omega asked me what are my preferred Pronouns

I have never thought about it

Almost all clones are He/Him

So naturally I went with those

While I still don’t mind it

I find myself liking They/Them more so

Still you may refer to me as either

*Goes back to reading Datapad*

[levi-venn]

Pirate Droids of the Onyx Cinder

Chapter 5 (Part Two): We Be Three!

Characters: K-2SO and SM-33

Summary: SM-33 revives an Interrogation Droid - What's the worst that could happen?

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 Part One | Ch5 Part Two | Ch6 (Coming Soon!)

Available on AO3

“Thar she blows!” SM-33 exclaimed. 

"What?!" K-2SO leapt to his feet. “When did you turn it on?” 

“A few minutes ago.”

“You could’ve warned me! We should be armed.” K-2SO grabbed a large wrench and held it up like a mighty laser sword.

The light in the TI droid's red lens pulsated like a warm fire in the belly of an infernus toad. Its electroshock prongs and syringe shone brightly under harsh light of the workbench light.

The droid let out a loud, multi-noted howl before the static vocoder crackled to life.

[B-b-booting up…s-systems…p-p-preparing…next…interr…oga…tion.]

“We should have blasters.”

The droid seemed to follow K-2SO's voice, floating towards him with determination. [Analyzing….analyzing…]

“Don't ye move, Esso,” SM-33 warned.

"I absolutely will move," K-2SO warned back.  “If this Huttball gets any closer I’m going to score a goal with this wrench!”

[Huttball…] The TI Droid shifted from binary to Basic. “Huttball? Are you referring to me?”

“Well I’m not referring to Smee.”

The TI rotated on its axis, its photoreceptor narrowing the red light to a pinpoint. “Smee…”

“SM-33,” SM-33 corrected, his gaze flicking to K-2SO. “But I suppose my friends call me Smee.”

K-2SO rolled his lenses.

“Smee…You are not on my roster.” It turned back to K-2SO. “Sir, is he on your roster?”

“Sir?” K-2SO tilted his head. “Uh…No…no, he isn’t. You don’t have to call me sir. Kay or…Esso is fine.”

“You are a KX series. I hold KX series as a figure of authority in the absence of an imperial officer.”

“Really?” K-2SO stood a little taller. “That’s very good to know.”

“If I may ask, what happened to your body, sir?” It floated close to K-2SO’s chest, inspecting the rusty red cog with a scomp and a saw arm crossed beneath it - the Onyx Cinder’s new flag as designed by SM-33. “I do not recognize this symbol. Are you special ops?”

K-2SO took a small step back. “No. We’re…ehm…”

“Pirates!” SM-33 declared.

The TI droid spun back around. “You are a pirate? The Empire does not tolerate piracy! Sir, permission to notify the authorities. We must interrogate this droid at once!”

Now SM-33 was getting nervous. “Esso, think it’s time to inform our new shipmate about the Empire.”

K-2SO hummed thoughtfully. “Mmm...I don’t know. I rather enjoy being called ‘sir’.”

The TI droid was floating closer to SM-33. “Esso!”

“Oh, fine,” K-2SO huffed. “Droid, come back here. We need to talk about…the Empire.”

The TI unit paused, the syringe mere inches from SM-33’s face before reluctantly returning to K-2SO. “Yes, sir?”

K-2SO sat down in the other chair, the TI droid floating down with him, keeping level with his face. “Listen, TI…I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“I’m TI-52. Captain Tuxon called me ‘Jukebox.’”

“Jukebox?” K-2SO asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Jukebox…” SM-33 repeated.

Jukebox swirled around. “Quiet, pirate scum or I will show you why he call me this!”

If K-2SO had a human mouth, SM-33 had a feeling it’d be grinning from audio receptor to audio receptor. 

Jukebox returned to K-2SO. “Please, continue, sir. Is there trouble in the Empire?”

“Well…yes,” K-2SO threaded his metal fingers together and rested them in his lap. “There is no Empire. Not anymore.”

Jukebox hovered for a moment. “I am not computing.”

“The Empire fell in 9ABY - that's 9 years after the Battle of Yavin. Officially five years ago to be exact. Emperor Palpatine is dead. The Empire was dissolved. The new Republic is the new ruler of this galaxy.”

“And Captain Tuxon?”

“I don’t recognize the name but…I would assume he is either dead or arrested by the Republic. We can find out if you like.”

"Does this mean...no more roster? No more prisoners? No more...interrogations?"

"It does," K-2SO said.

"Oh..." Jukebox lowered its photoreceptor to the floor. “Oh no…”

The TI droid began to sink, as if weighed down by the news. “This is terrible…”

Down...down...down...until it rested on ground.

It rolled a little. “So terrible…”

And then the droid just…rolled away.

Its jutting syringe, electroshock prongs, and antennae caught awkwardly on the walls and door as it rolled down the hallway. “...just so…terrible…”

Until it disappeared from sight.

The workshop was silent for a few moments.

“...What just happened?” K-2SO finally asked.

“It appears the little shipmate be takin’ the news hard. You’d better check on it.”

“Me? Why me? You’re the captain.”

“But yer a fellow Imperial.”

“I am a former Imperial.”

“Aye, and so be our little Jukebox.”

A metallic clank clank clank echoed down the hallway. 

“C’mon, we'll both take a looksee,” SM-33 said, rising to his feet. “We never leave a shipmate to wallow in its own sorrows.”

“That doesn't sound like the Pirate Code to me.”

SM-33 swung his head towards K-2SO’s pointedly. “The code be mine.”

K-2SO recoiled ever so slightly. “Duly noted.” He rose to his feet. “This is not the sort of reaction I was expecting from a torture droid.”

They found Jukebox in the common area next to the droid supply crates they plundered from Bracca. It was bumping against a metal box filled with antitamper components. 

“Jukebox, ye alright?”

"I will never be alright," Jukebox said. “My roster is null and void. I had three interrogations to perform. I was so excited.”

“Yes, I’m sure your subjects were equally enthused,” K-2SO said, dryly.

“My Captain was excited, too. We had just put a new playlist together.”

“A playlist?” SM-33 asked.

“Oh yes!” Jukebox stopped bumping into the crate and began to float into the air. Just a quarter of a meter, but it was a start. “Would you like to hear my favorite?”

“I don’t think I want to, no,” K-2SO said, giving SM-33 a look that registered as wary.

But adventure never started with wary glances, so says Captain SM-33.

“Curiosity may be the death of me, but...Go ahead, Jukebox.”

The hypnotic power strip suddenly lit up into a cascading rainbow of lights and a single measure of cheerful horns bopped through the speakers. 

A single, solitary measure.

Seven notes to be exact.

Do-di Do-di Doo Dee-do

Do-di Do-di Doo Dee-do

Do-di Do-di Doo Dee-do

Do-di Do-di Doo Dee-do

It repeated over and over…and over…so cheerful…so loud. It was a bop on the verge of moving into another measure, on the very edge of a completing a full melody, yet just before the song could take hold it was yanked back to the first note. A never ending cycle. No escape. No reprieve.

“This is maddening !” K-2SO covered his head. “Shut it off!”

Jukebox’s power strip dimmed and the music ceased.

SM-33 swung his head from side to side as if trying to shake the earworm free from his memory banks. “That be a dastardly trick. Ye inflict this on droids?”

“On humanoids, too. It seems to have the same effect on both entities!” Jukebox’s voice sparkled with pride. “The captain and I chose all these songs together.  The trick is to find a very famous song, cut it into uneven pieces, then loop them for as long as it takes to break the resolve of our subject! The song I just played is “ Mad About Me” by Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes! Would you like to hear Captain Tuxon's favorite?”

“Not…now,” SM-33 said.

“Or ever,” K-2SO added.

“Oh…Alright…” Jukebox sank down to the ground again. “I suppose…there is no one left to…appreciate this art. We had…so many…nice songs…”

SM-33 knelt down in front of Jukebox, putting a hand on its dome in both comfort and to prevent it from rolling away again. “Now, now, don’t ye be so downtrodden. Yer life as an interrogator may be over, but yer real life is just beginnin’.”

Jukebox rolled against SM-33’s hand until it gazed up at him with a photoreceptor that seemed large and glassy and emotional in the dim light. “What future is there for me? All I have ever known is interrogating the scum that threaten the galaxy. Now here you are…scum! And I don’t even know what questions to ask you.”

SM-33 gently said. “Now, now, there be no scum here. Galaxy’s changed. Rules have changed. The Empire weren’t all glitter n’ gold, anyway. This new galaxy is presentin’ new opportunities for us droids. Yer free now and ye can do what ye like. Go ahead n’ search yer circuits. Can ye feel the yoke of the Empire now gone?”

Jukebox’s photoreceptor lowered slightly, as if in self-reflection. “It…does feel less…constricting. Captain Tuxon only powered me up when there was an interrogation ready or to work on a new playlist. Now that he isn't here...there’s no need to switch me off. Is that right?”

SM-33 was about to respond, when K-2SO interjected. “No one will ever switch you off without your permission again.”

“That be correct,” SM-33 nodded. “I am Captain SM-33 of the Onyx Cinder. This be my first mate, K-2SO. We’re pirates to be sure, but not the scum ye be hearin’ of. We’re independent droids, lookin’ for a crew that can run without the help of meatbags.”

“No humans…” Jukebox rolled back and forth a little, as if rocking on invisible heels shyly. “...then…we can do whatever we want?”

“As long as it doesn't involve torturing our crew,” K-2SO said.

“No torture," SM-33 agreed, "but…ye know a thing or two about droid anatomy, yes?”

“I do!” Jukebox said. “I know every receptor, each reward and punishment matrix. I know which wires to pull and which to cut to prolong-”

“That’s…great,” SM-33 cut in. “You’ll be our medic.”

“Our what?” K-2SO balked.

SM-33 wondered if he should’ve warned K-2SO of this decision before declaring it. Then again, he made the decision 2.76 seconds ago.

“Aye, our medic. We’ll get ye some extremities and some precision tools n’ you’ll be the one patchin’ us up if we need help. In return, you’ll be the third member of our crew and privy to all the benefits that come with it.”

Jukebox rose in the air again, its photoreceptor was glued to SM-33’s face, which was a good thing since K-2SO had just thrown his hands in the air and stomped out of the room towards the cockpit.

“With you as Captain? A pirate captain?”

“If ye’ll have me,” SM-33 said. “If not, we can find ye a safe place to start over.”

“I will stay if-” Jukebox spun around suddenly. “Where is Esso? He was right here. I will not join if he is not here!”

K-2SO peeked his head into the common area. “What?”

Jukebox floated purposefully towards K-2SO. “Do you find this Pirate Captain an acceptable replacement for your former captain?”

SM-33 knew Jukebox meant whatever Imperial Captain it assumed K-2SO served under, but the question had SM-33 interested.

Truth be told, he'd had been asking himself that same question.

Am I an acceptable replacement? Able to fill the black hole Cassian left behind?

“Well…” K-2SO looked past Jukebox to SM-33. “The Captain is…useful. I was just a head with no body when he found me…and the upgrades I received are…acceptable.” He looked down at Jukebox. “The time for the Empire and the Rebellion is over, but so is our dependency on humanity. As long as you keep your bloody music muted…this would be a relatively safe place to thrive.”

With a melodious beep that sounded dangerously close to the cheerful torture song, Jukebox bobbed up and down in the air. “Then I, too, will be…pirate scum.”

“That’s the spirit!” SM-33 pumped a fist in the air.

“Wow. What a relief,” K-2SO said without gesticulation…or enthusiasm.

“Esso, you get Jukebox set up with some proper arms n’ I’ll map out our next adventure!”

“Arms? We’re giving arms to the droid that misses torturing droids?”

“Oh yes please!” Jukebox chimed. “With slicing and dicing capabilities, if you wouldn't mind.”

“Absolutely not,” K-2SO said. 

“But…how will I interro…” Jukebox seemed to be reconfiguring its response. “...how will I heal you of your inevitable injuries?”

“Smee…” K-2SO whined, extending his hands at Jukebox as if presenting a very obvious problem. 

“That’s an order, Esso. Fix up our ship’s doctor with some proper tools.”

This felt like the first true order he had given on this ship. An order he meant to enforce. This crew needed to trust each other. If Jukebox really wanted to hurt them, it had a long list of melodies to do that and a scalpel wasn’t going to change that fact.

“Fine," K-2SO sighed. "But I’m only doing this because I’m hoping it’ll stab you first.”

“Oh?” Jukebox rose a little higher in the air. “Is SM-33 injured?” 

K-2SO ignored him. “Smee, you mentioned 'a next adventure' - where exactly are you taking us now?” 

Jukebox hovered right alongside K-2SO. It seemed the IT droid wasn't going to leave K-2SO’s side for the foreseeable future. 

“Don’t ye want it to be a surprise?” SM-33 teased.

“No.”

“Alright, fair enough! Now that we be three, it’s time for our first heist! Next stop - Corellia!”

"A heist...and as holodramas have taught us, nothing ever goes wrong on a heist."

Jukebox beeped excitedly. 

“Where’s yer enthusiasm, Esso?” SM-33 asked. “Jukebox is excited!”

“I’m just happy to be here! Want me to make a soundtrack for the trip?”

“No!” SM-33 and K-2SO said in unison.

[levi-venn]

Pirate Droids of the Onyx Cinder

Chapter 5 (Part One): We Be Three!

Characters: K-2SO and SM-33

Summary: SM-33 revives an Interrogation Droid - What's the worst that could happen?

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 Part One | Ch5 Part Two | Ch6 (Coming Soon!)

Available on AO3

SM-33 navigated the Interrogator Droid’s complex circuit boards like he was steering a ship through an asteroid belt. A spark burst from the soldering iron and the slave chip was seared away. 

“This is a bad idea,” K-2SO said. 

“So ye keep sayin’.” 

“Would you like me to tell you why it’s a bad idea?”

“I would,” SM-33 replied. 

“Too bad, because-” K-2SO stopped short. “Oh...you would?”

SM-33 understood the confusion. He wasn't used to humans listening to him either. But he wanted to be a better captain than Rennod and a better droid than he once was.

"Tell me yer most fearsome tale."

"Oh I fully intend to." K-2SO wiggled an index finger as if punctuating his tale. “I once knew an Interrogation Droid named IT-8.  We both worked on Coruscant on Senate Hill. I would arrest politicians accused of treason and inevitably they would be sent to IT-8 and her counterpart IT-9. IT-9 was no ball of sunshine either, but it was IT-8 that scared me most. She was a total psychopath who preferred torturing droids, especially protocol droids. You’ve met protocol droids, haven’t you?”

“Aye, once or twice.”

“You can knock them over with a feather! Most interrogations would end as quickly as they started, the poor things blubbering whatever you wanted seconds before being subjected to the electrodes. But IT-8 always kept going until the droid was completely fried. Monstrous. ”

“That…” SM-33 put the soldering iron away and closed the half shells. “...be a tale of horrors indeed.”

“And yet…you continue to repair this maniac?”

“Maniac? We don't know if this droid is a terror like your IT-8. Do ye not think there be terrifyin’ tales circling around the galaxy about KX-series?”

K-2SO sat straight up. His answer quick n’ sharp as a buzzsaw. “No.”

SM-33 lifted his head, white lens twitching. “No?”

“Well…maybe there are.”

“Ain’t no 'maybe' about it. Even I've heard of the ruthlessness of KX droids. Yer lot was the biggest n’ baddest droids in the Empire. Cold n’ calculated n’ murderous.”

K-2SO's vocoder went quiet. “I’m different now.”

“To be sure. But...there was a time when it weren't so, yeah?”

“I…yes…there was a time…” K-2SO agreed.

“I'm a custom built. There be no stories about my kind, but there was a time when stories of my crew included a bloodthirsty droid that showed no quarter. I was followin' me captain's orders, but lately I wonder how much of it was his command and how little of it was me, myself." SM-33 screwed in a fresh cylindrical syringe into the drug port. "Thanks to the little captain and her crew, I can now go by the Pirate Code of my own free will. They gave me more freedom than I knew what to do with. I’m guessin’ it was the same with yer captain? He was the one who gave you free will?”

K-2SO was quiet.

SM-33 worked while he waited patiently. 

After a few minutes K-2SO spoke, he spun a nearby ratchet on the workbench as he spoke. 

“The first time I met Cassian, I was intent on killing him. The Empire declared all dissenters on Ghorman a threat so we acted in accordance to the ISB's directive - which is always action by deadly force. I would have torn Cass apart limb from limb with my hands if that tank hadn’t hit me.”

“Ye were hit by a tank?!”

“I was. Cassian pulled me back to his ship, gave me to mechanics on the rebel base. When I woke up I was strapped to a bench and Cassian was aiming a blaster rifle at me.”

“A helluva meeting.”

“It was.”

SM-33 glanced up briefly to see K-2SO’s lenses flicking around at nothing in particular, but clearly processing something that he wasn’t ready to share yet.

No worries there. SM-33 would be there when K-2SO was ready to-

“I...don’t think he ever forgave me.”

“Forgive ye for what?”

“For the Ghorman Massacre. Not that I, specifically, was responsible for what happened there, but I am not blind. I saw how skittish my violence made him. Even if it was to his benefit. He never allowed me to carry a blaster. He kept key pieces of information from me, but freely gave it to Melshi. I was kept close, but not too close.”

He paused for a few moments more.

“But I never minded it. I knew he cared about me. He included me in more activities than any human before him. He taught me how to play Sabaac. He insisted I was his co-pilot. Occasionally, I could get him to laugh...which he did so rarely with anyone. He...would worry when I'd get injured. Insisting on fixing me himself. He trusted me with his life, but never with his thoughts.”

“Some humanoids don't think to share their thoughts with droids. In the end, they see us as accessories and nothing more.”

“I wouldn't mind if that were the case with Cassian, but I know it isn't. He used to have a droid he considered a brother. I only heard about him once. B2-EMO. When I tried to find out more, he shot me this look. Anger or...sadness...he was always hard to read, but it was clear he wanted me to drop it. Melshi took pity on me and told me only that Cassian had to leave him behind and it's a sore subject.”

“Leave him behind where?”

“Some remote planet called Mina-Rau.”

SM-33 tucked the information away for later. “B2...Sounds like a salvage unit.”

“Cassian came from salvagers, though I think there’s more to the story. For all that I knew of him, I don’t feel like I knew much.” K-2SO handed SM-33 three washers and bolts before SM-33 could ask. “What about Captain Rennod? What did you know of him?”

“He was the best cap-”

“Besides his reputation. I mean about the man himself.”

“He be a mystery within an enigma! No one knows where the captain hails from nor what dark and dreary life he left behind to become a fearsome pirate cap-"

Something sparked in SM-33’s mind. “...Wait…that may not be a truth I tell ye.”

When the little mechanic, KB, fixed SM-33’s memory, she gave him access into the recesses of files his former captain had once purposefully locked away. The origin of Captain Rennod himself was one of those forbidden texts.

“That…be a tale I can tell ye now. No one is left to tell me otherwise.”

SM-33 applied putty to the cracks along the TI Droid's body as he spoke. “Tak Rennod was a Senator’s son.He grew up in the lap of luxury on Canto Bight, he did. But he had a terrible greed inside him and a gamblin’ addiction that plagued his family and threatened their wealth and reputation. He was driven from house n’ home. He left the golden shores of Canto Bight and fled to the neon planet of Nar Shadda with enough credits to buy out a district for himself, but he had other plans. 

“He wove himself a story: Captain Tak Rennod was a pirate captain lookin’ for a new crew to chase a legendary ship filled with treasure: The Lurka. Only he knew the location. While the Lurka was a true enough tale, he didn’t have an inklin’ of where it were. He staged a ship, filled it with his life savings...then took his fledgling pirate crew to find it. An investment to curate him as a legend.”

“That’s…a pretty clever scam.”

“Aye, a great gamble with a great reward if yer cunnin’ like the captain.. He may have come from soft beginnin’s but he was resourceful, and his greedy nature made him a ruthless ruler.”

“But it didn't last,” K-2SO pointed out.

“That it didn't. He weren't a master of charisma. Mutiny was a long time comin’. I warned him time n’ again. He killed the crew that learned of the legendary treasure planet, At-Attin, and his new crew turned mutinous. Perhaps it's just as well. If he had taken that treasure, he might've retired as captain and gone right back to Canto Bight to spend every last credit.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I miss him like I miss my left lens.”

“...Do…you miss your left lens?”

Breeeeeeeeeep!!!

The TI droid clicked to life. The hypnotic power strip across its equator flashed a myriad of colors. Its photoreceptor flared scarlet. The sphere itself shook violently before slowly rising above the workbench.

“Thar she blows!” SM-33 exclaimed. 

(Continued in Part 2)

[levi-venn]

It's time to restore justice.

[levi-venn]

Someone take my tablet away from me.

[levi-venn]

Well, in general you get the idea

[levi-venn]

I'm trying to collect the whole set

[levi-venn]

[levi-venn]

Friendly reminder that Grand Moff Tarkin is canonically gay.

Happy Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[levi-venn]

Thanks for the read! 🫶🫶

Previous Lists | My Master Lists

A cherished companion to the To-Read list, my Done-Read list is a compilation of all the fics I read each month. If you missed the reblogs I left along the way, you can use these lists to find recs for your own reading journeys. As always, thank you to the lovely and talented writers who fueled all my daydreams this month!

Crosshair

Cross & Crow [Comic version], Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 🌻 story by @levi-venn & art by @99aceace

Hux x reader

Just a Matter of Time 🌻 by @starlightsearches

Maul x reader

Dibs, Chapter 1 🌻 story by @maulslittlemeowmeow & art by @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

Soft sex with Darth Maul 🌻 by @writingsfromthevoid

Omega & the Bad Batch

Omega rating the snuggle comfort of the batch during bedtime [headcanons w/art] 🌻 by @snotbuggle

[levi-venn]

Hey! I just read your SM-33 and K-2SO fic and thot it was rly cool and fun! It’s such a unique idea and I can’t wait to see more of it. Was curious abt something tho! Given you started it before S2 of Andor aired, did you originally have a bit of a different idea re Kay and Cassian’s relationship? This last chapter seemed to rely on Melshi being around a lot in the past, which is something I think none of us expected before those last couple eps of Andor. Curious as to what ur og framing of their relationship would have been like w/o the added Andor knowledge.

Hi there!

Before Season 2, I already had an idea that Kay was going to mourn Cassian, but he was also going to recognize that his connection to Cassian wasn't a friendship on an equal level.

Originally, I was going to lean into the fact Cassian kept Kay at a distance because (I assumed) he lost B2EMO at some point since he's not on Yavin (and if he WAS on Yavin, I was going to go the "third wheel" route since Bee is literally Cassian's family).

After Season 2 and seeing their (as Tony Gilroy would say) "meet-cute", I realized that Cassian also has complicated feelings about Kay seeing as he was also a tie-in to the Ghorman Massacre and the damage Kay is capable of doing with a blaster rifle (which I'm thinking is why he isn't allowed a blaster in Rogue One).

That coupled with his closeness with Melshi and I decided to go the route that Kay was a companion, but was lacking the human connection Cassian needed after Bix left. I also truly think Cassian would have only felt close to one droid in his life and that was Bee.

This is not to say that Cassian didn't care for Kay (that little pat he gives Kay when their on Jeddha and crying his name out on Scarif gives me warm feelings), but a lot of their interactions in Rogue One are Kay quipping and Cassian giving him nothing back.

All this is to say, I want Kay to recognize that he deserves friendships with an equal exchange and I'm hoping SM-33 shows him that. They have a lot more in common than he realizes...and I have a few more chapters that will help this realization along :)

Thank you so much for the Ask, Anon! I hope that answered your question and I hope you continue to enjoy this lil fic!

For anyone else interested. The fic is:

The Pirate Droids of the Onyx Cinder (Tumblr | AO3)

[levi-venn]

Pirate Droids of the Onyx Cinder

Chapter 4: Rewards and Resistance

Characters: K-2SO and SM-33

Summary: Kay refuses to admit that he might have developed a friendship on Bracca. He denies it! Don't look at him. >:C

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | | Ch5 Part One | Ch5 Part Two | Ch6 (Coming Soon!)

Available on AO3

Ugh.

It was irritating that SM-33 was right about Bracca being profitable. Not that Kay wanted to come up empty on this sepia-stained junkyard planet, but the pirate droid was so damn insufferable about it. 

Singing his ridiculous space shanties, cheerfully pulling droid part after droid part and adding it to an ever growing pile, and those kraytshit optimistic quotes from his former captain.

What was he so happy about? 

They were alone . SM-33 may not see the need for human companionship, but with every step Kay took in his new body, he continually expected to see Cassian alongside him. Cassian’s eyes used to light up when they'd scavenge something good. He'd tell stories about him and his father cleaning scraps for credits.

…Though he was telling these stories to Melshi, not Kay.

But Kay was there to listen, too. He always listened.

“And lookee here, another pile of acoustic signalers!” SM-33 held up a trio of round orbs, clacking them like gambling dice.

“Are you expecting me to cheer for you every time you find another droid part?”

“Nah, just like showin’ ya another bit o’ hope!” SM-33 added the signalers to a rusty crate overflowing with treasures he found. 

“Congratulations…once again.”

Kay looked at his own pile. He had found a droid finger, possibly from a protocol droid. Useful in case…one of them lost a finger.

The discard pile towered over Kay's singular find. 

A scrap rat wiggled its way out of a discarded, chewed up tube and scampered towards the finger. It sniffed it once, snatched it, and disappeared into a nearby hole. 

His treasure pile was now nonexistent.

Kay wasn't cut out for scavenging. He was a security droid. He was a protector and a slicer. And he was becoming quite the gambler.

He missed Yavin IV. 

He missed playing Sabaac with Cassian and Melshi. 

He missed being part of a team. Even his KX ImpSec team was better than this. Here he felt…useless.

“Esso? What's eatin’ ye?”

Kay looked up. SM-33 had another find in his hand - a pristine polarity sink. How did he find that so quickly?!

Kay remained kneeling. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Don't play dumb with me, shipmate. Out with it.”

“Nothing is eating me.” 

Though he wished the ground itself would swallow him up. 

“I see what's happenin’, shipmate.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“I do. Yer sinkin’ into a rut and I ain't havin’ it. Come with me. I know just the thing that’ll rev that reward matrix.”

“Is that supposed to be a euphemism?”

SM-33 emulated a laugh. “Nope! As literal as a mynock shittin' upside-down. C’mon,” he said, extending a hand to Kay. “Ain’t no harm in takin’ a looksee.”

Kay looked at the offered hand.

He stood on his own. 

SM-33 hobbled towards an upended star cruiser that looked like a belly-up purgill. The thick layer of brown dust hadn't entirely consumed the ship. It had been dumped recently.

Kay followed, climbing over overturned passenger benches and pushing through thick cords like they were jungle vines.  “I don't see how another freighter is going to cheer me up. What I want is my old life back.”

“Aye, don't we all,” SM-33 said. “Would give anythin’ to be my Captain’s right hand again. Life be ever changin’ and we adapt or we rust.”

“At the moment I'd rather-”

Kay froze when he walked into the cargo hold, the last rusty word dissolving into absent-minded static.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed!” SM-33 said, his voice echoing in the chamber. The overturned chamber was a smooth, curved durasteel dome and above them, still strapped into an intact cargo net were a stack of small crates. Kay zoomed in on the individual labels of the unassuming packages: Lubricant containers, servo wires, internal repair units, autofusers…

“...Sonoreceptors…” Kay read aloud. “These are priceless. Why are they still here?”

“The Republic will get to this ship soon enough, but they got a whole planet to filter through n’ their focus is on Imperial tech, not droid goodies.”

“Why haven’t you ‘plundered’ this yet?” Kay asked, though he may have answered his own question when he touched the smooth walls.

“Can’t reach ‘em,” SM-33 wiggled his peg leg. “Tried to climb up the outer hull and it nearly broke me into pieces.” He turned fully to Kay, silver eye gleaming in a way that if he had been organic, he would be sparkling with coyness. “Ya don’t have any ideas on how to get them crates down, do ye?”

Kay rolled his lenses. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doin’?”

“You’re trying to make me feel useful.”

SM-33 threw up a hand. “K-2SO, take a look at ye! Yer as useful as they come. Yer problem is yer still thinkin’ like a KX-series. Yer more than that. More than yer programmin’ and whatever them Rebels filled yer head with. Ye wanna be yer own droid? Ye want freedom?” SM-33 pointed upwards. “There’s our answer n’ yer gonna be the hero that gives it to us.”

Kay angled his head up, gauging the distance between the crates and the ground. “We’ll need to cushion the impact to reduce the damage the cargo will take on impact. We'll bring over those bench seats from the passenger area.”

“Aye, aye, Esso!”

They gathered up as many benches and chairs as they could find, tearing them up and laying the padding out beneath the cargo net. 

Walking to one side of the hull, Kay rolled through his new programming installed by Skrapp. Placing his hand on the wall, he let the data work through him, sending signals to his fingers. Prongs ejected from his fingertips, sinking easily into the durasteel.

“Interesting.”

Never in Kay’s life did he imagine “skittering” would be added to his functions, but it was exactly what he did. Latching easily to the metal surface, Kay skittered across the surface like a-

“Look at ye!” SM-33 cried out. “Like a spice spider huntin’ for its next high. That be ye!”

Kay rolled his lenses but it was hard to ignore the pleasant crackle in his circuits. Somewhere in a deep forest of wires and whirring servos, there was a small twitch to a specific chip Kay thought was broken. It felt…nice. Like a bolt loosened, like cooling gel against a heat sink.

Kay tried to ignore the sensation. A glitch in his reward matrix, surely.

The last time it worked properly Jyn had given him a blaster on Scarif.

Before that, it was when Cassian chuckled after Kay called General Draven an insufferable meat bag.

And now…it felt like a festive sparkler on Empire Day. 

At the top of the dome, Kay hung upside-down, studying the net and cargo. He kept his gaze fixated on the net. “Are you ready?”

“Made ready, Esso!”

Even the ridiculous nickname didn't damper his matrix…and though he would never admit it, he felt the name may have added an extra spark or two.

Kay moved his shoulders back and up, extending his extra limbs from his back plate. The recalibration was awkward, and it took several annoying seconds to sort through unfamiliar data before he understood the precision logistics.

“Incoming.” He carefully extended his left arm, the buzzsaw slicing through the thick cords with ease. Crates rained down from the net, cascading onto the torn up cushions bouncing benignly. 

“Look at these beaut’s!” SM-33 held up a few boxes high in the air victoriously. “This’ll last us decades if we play our cards right. Let’s get back to the ship before sundown. Can’t be stumblin’ around in the dark when this planet’s more rust than dirt.”

Kay turned head 180 degrees to look down at SM-33.

And immediately regretted it.

It was one thing to be strapped into the co-pilot’s seat of Cassian’s U-wing, knowing that Cassian’s chaotic maneuvers and Kay’s quick reflexes would see them through scenarios that defied failure odds in the eighty percentile. 

But he wasn’t strapped in here. He was clinging like an idiot to a too-smooth dome high in the air with the ground very, very far below him.

“What’s wrong, Esso? You stuck?”

The abysmal odds of surviving this fall skyrocketed, the calculations skewed by his own anxieties. He would surely shatter into a dozen pieces. He didn’t want to relive disembodiment all over again. 

He didn’t want to…cease to exist.

“...Kay?”

“I am fine.”

“Good! Now jump!”

“Are you mad? I won’t survive the fall.” 

“With them new stems of yers? Of course ye will! Assassin droids got state-of-the-art reorientation programming. You’ll always land on yer feet like a lothcat belly floppin’ onto pillow.”

Kay searched his data banks. The coding checked out. He could - in theory - just let go.

But he didn’t want to.

“Don’t ya trust me? I ain’t gonna lose ya now that we’ve finally become a crew. If I say ye can take the fall, I mean it. Now drop!”

“Is that an order, Captain?” Kay said, sarcastically.

“I’m only yer Captain in matters of piracy. I’m sayin’ this as yer friend, Esso." SM-33's lens shone up at Kay, his back straightening and long neck extending with emphasis. "Trust me.”

Friend…

The involuntary flutter in Kay's circuits was entirely unbidden…as was the memory that immediately followed.

“I’m telling you this as a friend…” Cassian had said those words…to Melshi. Kay sat quietly and observed the way Cassian put a comforting hand on Melshi’s shoulder. Not a light pat or a brief smirk. The hand squeezed Melshi's shoulder and it seemed to calm the other human. The way Cassian smiled at Melshi was open and honest and wider. 

It was also always directed at Melshi. Not the KX-series droid always sitting right next to them. 

K-2SO let go. The world spun immediately as his body automatically reoriented itself, landing safely onto the cushion in an easy, feline crouch. 

“Huh.”

“Atta droid!” SM-33 clapped Kay on the shoulder. "Beautiful landin' that was!"

Kay looked at the hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh uh, sorry,” SM-33 pulled his hand away too soon. SM-33 gathered up the crates and loaded them into a second floating carrier for Kay to take. “All yers. Great job, Esso.”

A compliment. No sarcasm or begrudging indifference. He did a great job. 

Kay had saved Cassian, Melshi, and the injured human on Coruscant. He took out several imperials, including using one meatbag as a shield while blasting the rest with a blaster rifle. It was very impressive. Kay thought he was impressive. 

“I assume any doubts about my value have been erased.” Kay said this with confidence, his reward matrix preparing to be indulged.

“You can speed up now,” Cassian said. He didn’t look at Kay.

“You’re welcome,” Kay said.

“Hard right coming…”

Cassian didn't look at him the rest of the way home.

“Not used to bein’ so spry, eh?” 

Kay shook himself from the memory and followed SM-33 back to the ship.

“KX-series droids don’t need to be ‘spry’. I was an unstoppable force. I could throw humans fifty feet in the air.”

SM-33 slowed his gait down to walk alongside Kay, not ahead of him as a captain should. “Ah, I love how the meatbags soar through the air when ya punch ‘em. Love me a crisp upper-cut, can clear ten or twenty feet with that move.”

“It is satisfying.”

“My favorite is burnin’ ‘em. They never see it comin’.” SM-33 extended an arm and a small metal disk formed from his gauntlet. “My shields absorb the heat from blaster fire and slamming it into the face of a confused humanoid…ain’t nothin’ better.”

“That does sound fun.”

"Aye, last time I pulled that move it was defendin' my little captain on Port Borgo. Excitin' time. She was a good captain."

Kay looked down at the pile of supplies on his floating carrier. “Did your captain appreciate it?”

“Appreciate what?” SM-33 asked.

“You defending her.”

"Oh sure. She came back for me, y'know. I was in a junk shop after the fightin' was over. She weren't my cap'n long, but her and her lil crew were good kids. Just lookin' to get home n' I was happy to oblige when my programmin' allowed."

"What about Captain Rennod?"  Perhaps he just missed Cassian’s implied gratitude.

“He…well…” SM-33 seemed to be chewing on the thought.  SM-33 swung his head towards Kay. “Why ye be askin’?”

Kay stood in the hallway of the Coruscant apartment complex. There were dead Imperials everywhere. He did this for Cassian…and for the thrill of it.

“Cassian,” he said, proudly. “I’ve cleared a path.”

“Give me that.” Cassian took the blaster rifle from Kay’s hand. He didn’t look pleased. 

“I would like to keep it,” Kay said, reaching for the rifle. “I find it fun and effective.”

“No.” Cassian said. And that was the end of it. The next time he would carry a blaster, Jyn Erso would be handing one to him, on the last day he saw Cassian alive.

“No reason.”

“Did yer captain ever give you thanks?”

“No,” Kay said. 

“Oh…” SM-33 swung his head away. “Mine neither.”

SM-33 lowered the ramp and they brought their treasures inside the main hold. Kay took the time to carefully unload each package onto the workshop shelving, while SM-33 took the whole carrier and dumped it onto the ground.

"Careful!" Kay snapped, looking at the parts scattered at his feet. Something large slammed into his thigh. "Wait...what is that?"

"This?" SM-33 reached down and pulled up a large floating orb. "This be our new shipmate...if we can get it workin!"

"That's an Imperial Torture Droid," Kay balked.

"Really? I figured its of 'o them an interrogation models."

"It's the same thing," Kay said. "Throw it out. They're insane little buggers."

"Now, don't be hasty. I could've thrown out that head of yers if I was so quick to judge." SM-33 put the Interrogation droid on the workshop table. "Now hand me a spanner. We got some work ahead of us."

[levi-venn]

Cross and Crow

Written by @levi-venn Art by @99aceace

Chapter 1 in 14 parts: Part 14 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9| 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |

Crosshair stared at the object. 

Too late. Sanity gone. This isn’t real. It can’t be. I want this too much. 

A piece of crudely crafted wood, a message carved in. 

[Look down]

Crosshair stared at the words, struggling to keep his hope smothered.

[Look down]

He knew that handwriting. Meticulous. Precise. By a hand that taught Crosshair how to write, that comforted him when the thunder was too loud and the lightning too bright, that would ball into a fist when regs teased him about his hair, his lankiness, his uniqueness.

Crosshair climbed onto his bed.

Both he and Egg looked down together.

Crosshair hadn’t spoken in months, but there was no one else in the galaxy he wanted to speak to more than his brother at this moment. 

With a raspy hiss he asked: “Where the hell are your goggles?”

The end (of Chapter One) - If you would like to read more, check out Cross and Crow on AO3 here or on tumblr Chapter 2 starts here

Again, thank you @99aceace for sharing this incredible work and allowing me to post it up here for all to see! This has been so amazing to see this fic unfold in comic form!

[levi-venn]

Cross and Crow

Written by @levi-venn Art by @99aceace

Chapter 1 in 14 parts: Part 13 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |

Too exhausted to dream, Crosshair woke to the sound of two loud caws. Always two.

Good morning.

Crosshair added more eggs to the sill and a piece of the terrible bacon. 

Egg pecked at the bacon suspiciously, letting out a little disgruntled cluck that made Crosshair’s lips to twitch unexpectedly. 

He didn’t smile. But he wasn’t scowling.

The tense knot of hopelessness was loosening in Crosshair’s chest as if Egg had been pecking at it each morning, fraying his sanity, giving him false peace. 

Throw the tray at the window, he begged himself. Bang the cup on the bars. Shoo Egg - shoo the crow - away before reality kicks in. You’re in here. Egg’s out there. One day, he won’t come back. 

Crosshair stared at his tray. It shook in his hands.

Do it. Get it over with. 

But then something clattered on the tray.

[levi-venn]

Cross and Crow

Written by @levi-venn Art by @99aceace

Chapter 1 in 14 parts: Part 12 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |

More experiments. Suffocating. Burning. Freezing. Breaking. Rebuilding. 

When he was dragged back to his cell, he saw food was waiting for him. Some sort of egg hash, leftovers from the morning. 

Egg will be pleased.

He left his offering on the sill for Egg, then he and the pinecone slept.