#New Legion Mounts

[howtofightwrite]

So happy you're back after all this time! I have a question, do you happen to know how people fought in ancient rome? Particularly gladiators and soldiers? Sorry if this isn't the blog for this question tho!

I think we've covered both of these questions independently over the years.

Gladiators were a performance sport. It was more about glorifying the Roman Empire and its victories, than a conventional fight. As a result, most Gladiators were armed with specific variant, “loadouts,” designed to cosplay as various enemies that The Empire had conquered, and they only fought against specific countering variants. Specifically, the variants would be matched in such a way that it would be difficult for either combatant to have a decisive advantage over the other, with an eye towards creating situations that would result in a lot of visible injuries, without serious harm to either participant.

In case it needs to be said, gladiators were a significant financial investment, and they weren't casually killed in the arena. The point was for visible injuries, and a bloody spectacle, not a slaughter. Sometimes someone would die, but having them die on the field wasn't the intention, and they generated a lot of money, and on the rare cases when they were killed, it was meant to be a climactic moment, not someone taking a blade to the gut and collapsing mid-fight.

Obviously, I'm barely scratching the surface here, because it gets a lot deeper, but the simple answer is that in the vast majority of cases, gladiators were armed with weapons that were designed to make seriously harming their foe difficult to impossible. Also, the gladiators were something that evolved and became more complicated over time. When they first started in the Republic, it was a much more stripped down structure with prisoners of war being given a sword and shield and forced to face off against one another.

As for the Roman Legions. I'm not sure I've ever seen a comprehensive description of their training techniques. The Testudo, (or Tortoise) is one of the more famous examples of their specific combat style. Legionaries would create a shield wall, and the soldiers behind the front line would raise their shields to cover the formation against attacks from above (usually arrow fire, or thrown spears.) While being able to strike with javelins. In practice, the formation had issues, including being vulnerable to siege fire, and mounted archers were able to easily flank the formation. It's a neat story, but the formation had serious limitations.

One thing we haven't talked about before (I think) was the Roman's use of biological warfare. During sieges, they would load (locally sourced, I assume) corpses onto catapults, and then launch them into the besieged city.

Beyond, the major thing about the Legions was the extremely disciplined and orderly combat formations, with a lot of attention paid to managing battlefield movement. It wasn't so much about exceptional individual performance, so much as their ability to operate as a unit. This isn't a particularly mind blowing concept today, but in an era when professional soldiers were the exception, or limited to the elite forces, it had slightly more impact.

Regarding the details of their training, I've never seen any of that come up. Now, granted, I've really tried to research that degree of Roman history. So, if you're asking, “how, exactly, did they swing the gladius?” I don't know, and I don't remember ever seeing anyone credibly claim they had that insight. As far as I know, the only surviving Roman training manual was De Re Militari, (there's around 200 surviving Latin copies) which is far more concerned with overall strategic planning and command. If you're trying to write Roman era military fiction, it's probably worth reading. So, I'm not sure this is exactly what you were looking for, but I do hope it helps.

-Starke

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[moodymisty]

'We float for Macragge.' That is the cutest quote ever omg. Thank you for blessing me with this, I'd never seen the meme before. The blueberries are so charming sometimes 🥺 -anon that likes excerpts

It's one of the less popular iconic WH40k memes, but I see people reference it sometimes. Here's some more funnies because I like forcing people to read this stuff.

There's also the fucking hilarious scene of an astartes with new terminator armor falling through a floor, and his buddy has to call a crew with a crane to get him out, which is fucking hysterical. (master of sanctity)

‘Some kind of sub-level here,’ reported Daellon. ‘Descending.’ ‘Wait!’ yelled Telemenus, but his warning came too late. The audio pick-ups brought the sound of splintering woods and crumbling ferrocrete followed by an almighty crash. Daellon cursed without pause over the vox. ‘Report,’ barked Arbalan. ‘Brother Daellon misjudged the load bearing of some internal stairs, brother-sergeant,’ said Telemenus, trying not to laugh. For once he was glad somebody else was attracting the negative scrutiny. There was a chuckle from Cadmael and a sigh from Arbalan. ‘Daellon, can you climb out?’ asked the sergeant. ‘Negative, a three metre drop at least. The floor will not hold my weight to pull myself up.’ ‘No threats detected,’ Telemenus added, his auspex sensors encompassing the long row of huts. ‘Understood,’ said Arbalan. He sounded impatient. ‘Daellon, remain in place, I will signal for an armoury extraction team. Telemenus, rejoin the squad.'

There's also a book I don't remember where a group of baseline humans are descending from tight steps with an astartes, and are VERY concerned at the creaking of the stairs from his weight. Chunky boi

Also here's Guilliman making a joke in Armour of Fate about him being stuck in this massive bulky armor and Sicarius just, doesn't get it. This moment was another reason why I always recommend Dark Imperium to people, it just kind of gets Guilliman and how different he is from his legion now.

Sheaves of blueprints were scattered across the desk in front of him. He spotted something of interest written on one and reached for it, gritting his teeth against the purring of the suit. He always reached with his right hand. The integration points for the Hand of Dominion on his left made picking anything up nigh on impossible, even with the over gauntlet and its underslung bolter removed. Day-to-day tasks such as this were a struggle. His armoured fingers pushed at slick plastek. Ceramite skidded across the papers, knocking them to the ground in wafting flutters. ‘Oh, for the love of…’ he grumbled as he bent awkwardly to pick them up. The Armour of Fate was bulky. As its waist joint prevented him from flexing his spine and reaching the floor, he had to kneel. He reached for the scattered flimsies. Fingertips failed to grasp the sheets, sending them fleeing in small armadas over the polished floor. He growled in frustration, abandoned his task and stood, drawing a curious look from Sicarius. ‘I have the manual dexterity of a Legio Cybernetica battle automaton!’ Guilliman said. ‘Created by the Lord of All Mankind, master of the greatest armies in the Imperium, and I cannot pick up a plastek flimsy.’ He glared at the offending articles. ‘My greatest enemy.’ There was a thoughtful quiet. ‘You are joking, my lord?’ said Sicarius. Guilliman looked at Sicarius. He had to turn all the way around to do so. The pauldrons, ornamental wings and large halo mounted on his back made it impossible for him to see over his shoulder. At least he had stopped knocking into things. There was that. ‘By the Throne, why am I expected to be serious at all times? Yes, Captain Sicarius, I am making light of my predicament. During the worst of the Great Crusade, I was known to make the occasional jest. Even after Terra fell. I did not spend my entire previous life writing deep thoughts into little notebooks, but sometimes dared to enjoy myself. I suppose that was not recorded in the hagiographies.’ ‘Humour is not something you are renowned for, my lord.’ ‘My time in this new age has revealed that to me amply.’

I have way too many random book moments stuck in my head. And not enough space for actual useful information.

[ancientcharm]

Titus Flavius and his indelible traces.

Titus Flavius was born in Rome on December 30 of the year 39. He was a direct descendant of a loyal soldier of Pompey the Great during the Civil War against Julius Caesar. After Pompey's defeat at the Battle of Pharsalia, his life was spared by Julius Caesar, returned to home and became a Publicanus (tax collector). In an incredible twist of fate, the Flavians, a family of peasants, who came from the defeat of the past, ended up occupying the throne founded by Caesar's heir, and replacing the aristocratic Julio-Claudian dynasty with the Flavian dynasty.

During reing of Caligula (37-41) Vespasian,father of Titus, was Aedile of Rome. According Suetonius, Emperor Caligula passed by a street that was very dirty, ordered Vespasian to be brought and the garbage thrown on him, and then told him "Do your job well, keep the city clean."

During the reign of Claudius (41-54) Vespasian obtained the position of praetor and the command of one of the legions that went to the conquest of Britannia.

After revolt in Judea in the year 66, emperor Nero chose the experienced and brilliant general Vespasian to put an end to the rebellion. Vespasian went with his son, Titus, who was then 26 years old, and was an excellent army's officer.

In June 68, after of the death of Nero, the first civil war of the imperial era broke out, which would last until December of the following year. On December of the chaotic year 69, known as the year of the 4 emperors, in which three aristocrats came to the throne and were murdered, Vespasian was proclaimed emperor by the army. Titus was left in command against the rebellion in Judea.

A historical event of mystical relevance.

After months of bloody fighting, on August of the year 70, the Temple of Jerusalem was looted, burned and demolished by Titus's troops.

Titus made his triumphal parade in the year 71 in Rome. Years later, in the place where Titus passed, his younger brother, the Emperor Domitian, ordered the construction of the Arch of Titus; One of its extraordinary relief depicts the triumphal parade with the treasures of the Temple.

Emperor Vespasian decided to tear down the Domus Aurea, the palace that Nero had ordered to be built for his own enjoyment, and build "a palace for the enjoyment of the people". He saw his work almost completed but died of illness on June 23, 79, at his estate. The next day Titus ascends the throne.

A mess with the gods.

Exactly 4 months after his accession to the throne and while his younger brother was celebrating his birthday, a tragic event occurred. An inexplicable and terrifying news reached Rome: the peaceful mount Vesuvius roared, exploded and became something unknown, and several Roman cities with their inhabitants disappeared under "a sea of fire." Among the victims was the prestigious politician, soldier and writer Pliny the Elder, a close friend of the imperial family, who had dedicated the book 'Naturalis historia' to Titus.

Emperor immediately went to the scene of the disaster. He made immense works and donations to help those affected in the area. Early year 80 he went there for the second time and at that time a fire broke out in Rome for three days. Rumors began to circulate that the emperor had a "problem with the gods", and it was due to his forbidden relationship with princess Berenice, great-great-granddaughter of Herod the Great.

Although he was a very popular emperor, he did not want to risk those tragedies affecting his image and the people becoming angry, so he decided in 80 to accelerate his father's work, which still had to wait to be completed. And so began the inauguration of the most famous "stadium" in history : The Flavian amphitheater, better known as Colosseum.

There were 100 days of games. Those shows were free for the people. They had never seen an amphitheater of such grandeur. Very soon the people of Rome forgot about Vesuvius and Berenice.

Coins were minted showing the work started by his father but completed and inaugurated by him. In the image: a sesterce from the time of Emperor Titus.

The pseudo-Nero

After Nero's death, rumors began to circulate that his suicide was not real. Years later, this rumor had spread throughout the empire and even beyond its borders. Suetonius wrote about an event that he experienced during the reign of Domitian: "Twenty years after his death, when I was young, a man of obscure origin appeared, who claimed he was Nero; And the name Nero was still in such favour with the Parthians that they supported him vigorously and surrendered him with great reluctance."

The Parthians were happy believing that Nero was alive because he had been the only Roman emperor they liked, as during his reign he signed the peace treaty and had a cordial attitude towards Parthia.

Titus had to face the rebellion of a guy called Terentius, another Pseudo-Nero that according to ancient historical sources "he sang with a voice equal to that of Nero, played the lyre and looked like him." The impostor had a lot of followers in the eastern Roman provinces. The Parthian king, Titus's enemy, received this man and made preparations for him to return to Rome as emperor but he was executed when his true identity was revealed.

On September 13, 81, Titus died at the age of 41 on his father's farm, due to fever. His brief reign was very prosperous and popular. Having only a daughter (Julia Flavia), his successor was his brother Domitian who would rule for 15 years.

According to Roman writers, his last words were: "I regret nothing except one thing"; And some believe that he regretted having said "no" to Berenice when she proposed marriage after the death of emperor Vespasian, the major opponent of the relationship between them.

The Colosseum and the Wailing Wall are undoubtedly the two indelible traces of Titus Flavius.

[seat-safety-switch]

"It's the Poop Pope!" shriek a legion of adoring children, who chase after my 1998 Econoline E-250 as if it is the second coming. For years, I had struggled in obscurity. At long last, my efforts had paid off. A sort of fame had been achieved, but at great personal cost.

This idea came to me while I was dredging out a flooded church basement. I've never considered myself a particularly religious person, but something about the light coming in from the cracked catchment pipe struck me then. Call it cliché if you will, but it was the light of goodness. The light of profit. The light of appropriating Catholic imagery and a giant cartoonish pope-hat while I was cleaning highly-compressed human waste and hair out of plumbing systems.

Truth be told, I was surprised by how popular it became. Folks were tickled by the juxtaposition, I guess. The first place I stopped was an old YMCA. People were lined up out the door of that squalid little public toilet, just to watch me swap out a flush valve. I had a bit of a sermon-on-the-mount, as it were, and ranted about how no flushable wipes are truly flushable. Maybe that helped, I don't know. I looked down at my phone at the end of this, and I had hundreds of new calls, requesting urgent help from the newly-arrived Father of Flushing.

Sure, it hasn't all been ups and downs. As you can imagine, the dry-cleaning bill for one of these hats is substantial, made all the worse by the fact that they're white fabric. And I'll be the first to admit that I've been stalked by a series of highly-trained assassins from some sect or another of the Church (it's hard to keep track of which, and not all of them are polite enough to leave business cards behind after I've dispatched them with a pipe wrench or water feature accident.)

Still, though, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Except maybe an audience with the real Pope. That would probably be a really funny photo op, enough to retire on.

[racefortheironthrone]

Warhammer Gaslamp: Introduction

The year is 2725 IC...some two hundred years since the Age of Crisis. The time of Karl Franz I, the "Fourth Deliverer of the Empire," has long past, as has the age of knights and dragons – throughout the Old World, magic itself is a dying art.

The Empire of Man is stronger than ever before, but it is an Empire that runs on coal and iron, held together with roads of steel track, and powered by boiling, thumping hearts that pump steam and gas through the veins of the mightiest industrial power in the world. The forests remain, but they have dwindled in size, cut down to feed the endless hunger of the great metropolises, the mighty smokestacks of Nuln, Talabheim, New Averheim, and greatest of all, the bright gaslights of mighty Altdorf ("The Big Turnip"), and a hundred smaller cities that light the night skies.

The Neüscience of the Imperial Technomancers has increased national prosperity a hundredfold, improved the health and well-being of the common citizens, and helped the Imperial Army, Navy, and Airkorps put the endless hordes of Khaos on the backfoot for generations. In spite of (or because of?) this, Imperial society has become increasingly divided between the elite who profit from the new economy of high finance and heavy industry, and those millions of unskilled and semi-skilled laborers whose endless toil keeps them only ever one step ahead of the breadline and the bailiff. Meanwhile, the mounting toll of industrial pollution, epidemic disease, industrial accidents, and Neüscientific “experiments” running amok raises new questions about the high cost of success.

Politics has become ever more fractious. The Imperial Parliament is divided between the House of the People, where the Farmer-Artisan Party (representing a coalition of the Craft Guilds and their fellow urban workers, and a significant minority of rural laborers and small farmers) holds the plurality, and the House of the Nobles, where the Liberal-Conservative Party (representing both the traditional landed aristocracy and the new monied elite) holds power, and the two clash fiercely over labor rights, taxation, industrial regulation, and social welfare. Holding the uneasy balance of power is Emperor Karl-Franz XIV, his "Iron" Chancellor Ludwig von Ostermark, and their smaller Patriotic Party (largely supported by veterans and members of the civil service), who try to maintain Imperial unity and industrial production in the face of the "Threat from the Black North."

In the streets and on the shop-floors, the captains of industry known as the Great Monopolhauses (allied and often intermarried with the nobility) deploy their legions of spies and private soldiers against the rising strength of the Laborer’s Guild, who are mobilizing in the factories by the hundreds of thousands, and the industrial spies and gunthugs are kept in check only by the still-potent might of the Craft Guilds who fear and resent their industrial upstart rivals but trust the bosses even less.

The religion that once united an Empire today divides it, as Orthodox Volkmarites and Radical Hussites split over matters of class and faith. Although the two factions are still nominally part of the same Sigmarite religion, and the Church of Sigmar is held together by the firm hand of the Emperor, the two factions compete fiercely over theology and dogma, and positions within the Church unto the Grand Theogonacy itself. To the north, the philosophy professor-turned-street preacher Nietzsche von Zarathustein has single-handedly revived the fortunes of the Cult of Ulric with his fiery doctrine of Neo-Ulricism and his best-seller Man unt Wulf-Man. From the great industrial heartland of the south, the radical scholar Mark Karhl preaches the overthrow of the status quo as an inherently exploitative regime, and his pamphlet The Scarlet Platform and his massive three-volume treatise on political economy, Der Gelden (which almost no one has completed), inspire many young radical students and workers to join the revolutionary Scarlet Party and the ranks of the Laborer’s Guild. Are rumors of his secret allegiance to a Tzeenchite secret society true, or mere bourgeois propaganda?

Exacerbating these divisions is the constant threat from Khaos. Up in the "Black North" and their allied territories on the great steppes on the other side of the pole, the forces of evil pervert the laws of science to their mad push for world domination. Khornate breeder-lords select from an unceasing flow of gladiators to produce the perfect warriors; Nurglite bio-priests carefully engineer the next insidious plague to slip past the Imperial Plasmic Survey; Slaaneshi sin-merchants mobilize a world-wide network of Cathayan black tar and warpdust powder (bartered from the Skaven) to corrupt the Empire from within; and Tzeenchite techno-mancers design ever more fiendish mutated F.R.E.A.K.S and the twisted Biomechs.

Inside the Empire, things are scarcely better. Even with the darkness of the forests pushed back to the periphery and the Greenskin hordes banished to the far side of the World's Edge Mountains, the threat of Were-beastmanism and other, more insidious, forces winds its way into every neighborhood in the Empire despite the best efforts of the Imperial Plasmic Survey and the Schwarzmänner. Mutants who cannot conceal their true nature – known as the "Untervolk" - have decamped into the subway tunnels and sewers that form the Undercities of the Empire, waging an unceasing war for survival against “norms” and “ratfolk” alike. From the back alleyways and the salons of the nobility alike, the endless secret societies of Khaos vie to do their masters' bidding, undermining the Empire from within in preparation for the coming war.

It is a time that desperately needs heroes, men and women willing to brave the darkness on the mean streets and the shell-torn battlefields of the Old World alike. Mystery and intrigue, adventure and mad science await!

[gnomeonamelon]

I was trying to design a daughter of Neptune for my au (the currently unnamed one with Ash Tornin) when I came to the realization that she was looking a lot like Ana Dakkar from Daughter of the Deep.

Ana is the demigod daughter of Neptune and a descendant of Salacia (the Roman goddess of the sea). She was raised in San Alejandro, California (a beach town just north of Santa Barbara) with her stepfather (a son of Mars) and older half-brother, Dev. When Dev turned 13, he left to train and join the Legion up north.

While her parents had already served their ten years, they were summoned by the gods on a quest to retrieve the Golden Eagle. They both died on this quest. With nowhere else to go (and heading off soon anyways), a twelve year old Ana made her way northward. Several months later, she would join the 5th cohort on account of a lack of combat skill and her father being generally seen as less important.

When he was 17 (the same year Ana would finally arrive at New Rome), Dev was elected praedor. Little did anyone know; he was a traitor working for Saturn and the Titans. He would die two years later in the final battle on Mount Othrys, where Jason would supersede him.

While Ana isn't the best when it comes to combat, she is an excellent tracker, scout, seaman, and communicator. She is able to speak several languages including (but not limited to) English, Latin, and Bundeli, as well as knowing sign language.

Powers wise, she is an incredible swimmer, can breathe underwater, and understand with sea creatures. Hypothetically, she can also generate earthquakes but is reluctant to do so due to the abundance of fault lines in California. She's only tried it once and is.... unwilling to do so again.

[most-datable-undatable]

Your Match-Ups!

Because I am a complete mess of a person, I forgot to put a few on my original list, so good news for the person who suggested Wizard from Stardew Valley a bit late: Because of my stupidity, he is now on the bracket!

We have a total of 104 contestants! This will be a standard single-elimination tournament. Match-ups were completely randomized, although for the first round I did not allow match-ups between two characters from the same franchise.

Voting will begin tomorrow morning at 9am PST. I will post one poll every ten or so minutes. I will do 26 tomorrow and 26 on Tuesday. Be sure to follow so you don't miss out on a vote for your favorite!

Without further ado: Your Most Datable Undatable Character Round 1 Match-Ups!

Day One

Kai (Harvest Moon: Back to Nature)/Hytham (AC: Valhalla)

Aphrodite (Stray Gods)/Robin (Stardew Valley)

Cole (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Dame Aylin (Baldur’s Gate 3)

Sten (Dragon Age: Origins)/Helena Blake (Mass Effect)

Kent Connolly (Fallout 4)/Asterius (Hades)

Serana (Skyrim)/Bo Calloway (Scarlet Hollow)

Perry (Harvest Moon: Animal Parade)/Cliff Holden (Our Life: Beginning & Always)

EDI (Mass Effect 2 and 3)/Soma Jarlskona (Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla)

Kasumi Goto (Mass Effect 2)/Shandra Jerro (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Mel (Fallout 4)/Neeshka (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Vivienne de Fer (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Pasqal Haneumann (Rogue Trader)

Carlos (Rune Factory 4)/Hypnos (Hades)

Scout Lace Harding (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Bishop (Neverwinter Nights 2)

Deacon (Fallout 4)/Theseus (Hades)

Virgil (Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura)/Avitus Rix (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Nathaniel Howe (Dragon Age: Awakening/Dragon Age 2)/Wynert (Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate)

Quinn (Dream Daddy)/Karliah (Skyrim)

Nick Valentine (Fallout 4)/Nakmor Drack (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Dagna (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Terry (Rune Factory 5)

Rolan (Baldur’s Gate 3)/Talos Drellik (Star Wars: The Old Republic)

Shiala (Mass Effect)/Jodi (Stardew Valley)

Tiran Kandros (Mass Effect: Andromeda)/Trickster (Hooked on You)

Arthur Maxson (Fallout 4)/Brassidas (Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey)

Brynjolf (Skyrim)/Briala (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Mary Christiansen (Dream Daddy)/Chaos (Hades)

Olgierd von Everestu (The Witcher 3)/Wizard (Stardew Valley)

Day Two

Frea (Skyrim)/Rose of Sharon Cassidy (Fallout: New Vegas)

Legion (Mass Effect 2 and 3)/Yuthura Ban (Knights of the Old Republic)

Qyzen Fess (Knights of the Old Republic)/Dammon (Baldur’s Gate 3)

Isobel Thorm (Baldur’s Gate 3)/Athena (Stray Gods)

Sandy (Stardew Valley)/Vincent Valentine (Final Fantasy VII)

Kaelyn the Dove (Neverwinter Nights 2)/Medusa (Stray Gods)

Bao Dur (Knights of the Old Republic)/Evfra (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Arcade Gannon (Fallout: New Vegas)/Jeremus (Mount and Blade: Warband)

Nyreen Kandros (Mass Effect)/Shale (Dragon Age: Origins)

Urdnot Wrex (Mass Effect Series)/Marnie (Stardew Valley)

Talvas Fathryon (Skyrim)/Nihlus Kryik (Mass Effect)

Cremisius “Krem” Aclassi (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Gatekeeper (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Keldorn (Baldur’s Gate 2)/Lin Fa (Rune Factory 4)

Johnny Silverhand (Cyberpunk 2077)/Veronica Santangelo (Fallout: New Vegas)

Tarquin Victus (Mass Effect 3)/Aveline (Dragon Age 2)

Judith (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)/Varric Tethras (Dragon Age 2/Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Evelyn (Rune Factory 3)/Sagacious Zu (Jade Empire)

Jarun Tann (Mass Effect: Andromeda)/J’Zargo (Skyrim)

Joker (Mass Effect Series)/Vault Tec Rep (Fallout 4)

Eder (Pillars of Eternity 2)/Iorveth (The Witcher 2)

Atris (Knights of the Old Republic 2)/Vernon Roche (The Witcher 2)

Kharjo (Skyrim)/Lambert (The Witcher 3)

Mordin Solus (Mass Effect 2 and 3)/Eskiel (The Witcher 3)

Raphael (Baldur’s Gate 3)/Takemura (Cyberpunk 2077)

Craig Boone (Fallout: New Vegas)/Canderous Ordo (Knights of the Old Republic)

Mira (Knights of the Old Republic 2)/Wistful Deviless (Sunless Sea)

[screaming--incoherently]

New Fanfiction Soft Launch

I am currently writing a Heroes of Olympus Fanficiton called Traitorous (Title is a WIP) and will be posting it soon chapter by chapter. But I wanted to soft launch it first to see whether or not people actually would want to read it lol. I'm very new to the fanfiction scene (obviously), but I love storytelling/writing and fanfiction is great practice to practice and develop my writing skills.

Traitorous is about my OC Odessa Volkova, who grew up alongside Jason Grace and Reyna Ramírez-Arellano at Camp Jupiter. Odessa was an outcast in the Legion, and was never claimed by her godly parent. She grew resentful and eventually met (drum roll please...) Luke Castellan, who convinced her to join his side of the upcoming Titan War. Odessa fought in(and lost) the Battle of Mount Othrys, and fled into the mortal world to escape punishment. The fanfic begins out at the start of The Lost Hero, when Odessa (after being forced to attend the Wilderness School) sees Jason again for the first time since the battle. Basically it descends into Odessa being forced to confront the decisions she's made and choose which side of the new war she wants to be on. ya know, fun stuff.

Anyway, leave a comment/note (i dont know how Tumblr works) if you'd be interested in reading it and I'll probably post the prologue/chapter 1 in the next couple of days.

Thanks!

~Mack

[pagetreader]

@honorhearted

They were known as G.risha, the people (if you could call them that) that were endowed with the ability to manipulate the matter of the world around them at its most fundamental level. Grisha referred to this ability as Small Science. Everyone else called it w.itchcraft. 

In Europe, occurrences of Grisha had been common, and all were hunted and put to death by fire. More recently, about a century ago, they’d begun to make appearances in the new world, leading to what had become known as the S.alem W.itch Trials. 

Now, in the thick of the R.evolutionary W.ar, the tyrant K.ing G.eorge had made one of these Grisha a General, leading a special legion in the R.oyal B.ritish A.rmy made up solely of his kind.

This unholy battalion turned the tides in the favor of the r.edcoats and led to the slaughter of countless P.atriots and their allies for the last two years. Humans were simply no match for those who could command the elements on the battlefield.

T.idemakers destroyed countless ships belonging to the French fleet, I.nferni set the land ablaze, and H.eartrenders damaged the internal organs of every r.ebel that dared to step their way.

Then there was the Fold, a massive swath of darkness that plagued the land in a jagged border that separated N.ew Y.ork from the rest of the C.olonies.

All who had been trapped within it had been twisted into heinous and horrifying flying monsters, dubbed volcra, that feasted on human flesh. The Fold made New York impenetrable.

If the C.ontinental Army continued on like this, it was only a matter of time before it was brought to its knees in inevitable surrender. 

On this night, the only thing on A.lina’s mind had been revenge – justice for her uncle S.ackett. With his killer in their grasp, she could think of little else. Adrenaline racing as the ambush commenced, Alina made a beeline for G.amble, but Benjamin was faster, tackling him in the docked boat and demanding to know the locations of the other shovers. 

It was a valiant effort, but to no avail. In self defense, he’d been forced to stab Gamble. As the bloody killer lay choking on his own blood, Caleb and Alina took their places beside their comrade and stared down at the pitiful sight. Caleb aimed his pistol and, in Sackett’s honor, pulled the trigger. 

And just like that, it was over. Gamble was gone. So why didn’t Alina feel any better? 

Sick to her stomach, Alina staggered away from the scene, collapsing to her knees on the bank of M.oodna Creek, dry sobs racking her body as she shivered in grief until finally she slammed her fists into the wet soil and emitted a guttural scream. 

That’s when it happened. Light burst forth from her very being, illuminating the area as brightly as the sun and blinding any who stood nearby.

In breathless shock, Alina was speechless and in fearful awe of the power that rushed through her limbs. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the light vanished and Alina fell unconscious.

Hours must have passed by since then, and as she stirred by the fireside, tucked in a bedroll, she prayed it had all been some kind of nightmare.

With caution and mounting dread, her eyes remained fixed on the flames as she groggily asked, “Gamble…he’s dead?”

And did that really happen? Did I light up like a bloody lantern?

[clawcommanderabsinthe]

I know people love the Fallout Show and I'm probably poking the Hornets nest with this but legit i really can't be assed to watch it

Spoilers below.

SPOILERS. BELOW.

So the Show retcons Fallout New Vegas.

I don't care what some Exec says on Twitter about them not retconning it, they did. Why else would they have destroyed the NCR via a Nuke for some Vault bullshit (one of Todds big fetishes. Yes, Vaults are important to the games but Todd specifically has a weird obsession with them. I cannot explain it well but if you look at FO3, FO4 and FO76 you get the feeling that he wants the Vaults to be of more importance than the world outside in the wastes. That and the weird way of everything that was rebuilt to be destroyed soon after) and the destroyed remains of New Vegas proper in the end credits.

The reasons can be many but the one that is true to me personally is that Todd is, like many other rich white guys, a manbaby who cannot take not being praised as the best.

FNV is and had been a Thorn in his side for years now and I am very sure when I say that the shows "subplot" of everything FNV related in the show being shown as destroyed etc to be nothing more than him finally trying to get rid of this boogeyman that he can't cope with.

At best it's the showrumners being absolute morons about the lore (like fr. If Shady sands was destroyed in 2277 which is the same year as the First Battle of Hoover Dam, would the NCR still expand into the Mojave? Prolly not they'd regroup and mount a defense in California proper against opportunistic enemies like the Legion)

At worst it was, as described above, Todd Howard trying to ruin the last great game in the series (Idc what you think about FO4 it's lame, badly written and the gunplay is just copypaste FPS Slop)

Idk if i wanted to come to a conclusion or anything so

Tl:Dr: don't watch the show, buy new vegas and make Todd mald. Hey I'll even give Mod recommendations to make FNV even more of a blast to enjoy.

[downtofragglerock]

Going on makuta deep dives made me come up with some makuta ocs, I don't got names or designs in mind for these, just some bits

A makuta who specialized in making amphibians and swamp rahi, they made the Makika and Ghekula, as well as the Swamp Stalker. They were "lucky" enough to survive until Teridax took over the gsr, when they, like the rest of the remaining brotherhood, had their antidermis cannibalized to make Rahkshi legions

A makuta who specialized in deep sea creatures, like midnight zone and bottom of the ocean level deep, because of that, most of their creations aren't well documented, although its rumored they created the dweller in the deep. One day they just vanished into the watery abyss, seemingly never to return. They are presumed deceased, but with the gsr being dismantled that may prove to be a false report.

A makuta who specialized in making mountable rahi and war beasts, usually having those two intersect. Primarily wielded a protosteel whip. Fashioned themselves as being able to tame and break in any rahi as a mount, often testing themselves against other brotherhood member's creations. However, they never wielded a mask of Rahi Control as they felt that "robbed them of the challenge". Despite focusing more on war and conquest once the brotherhood went in that direction, they still made new rahi species. At one point they petitioned that the Kanohi Dragon be released so they could "take a crack at it". They were denied. Eventually killed during the brotherhood-dark hunter war, although whether it was due to genuinely falling in combat or orchestrated by the brotherhood due to their recklessness threatening the plan is up to debate.

[tagedeszorns]

Any good non fic recommendations?

That depends on your interests, of course. I'm particularly interested in the Roman Empire at the transition point from Republic to Empire (which could also explain my enjoyment of Warhammer, but there may be other reasons for that). And here especially military and everyday culture. I'm less interested in politics, but of course a lot of private matters were also political at that time.

Although I have to admit that this point in time is very soft and fluid. I'm just as interested in the Bellum Sociale and the whole Sulla/Marius tragedy as I am in the later British campaigns. I'm really not being very scholarly here.

A few good books for starters here are:

SPQR by Mary Beard. A quick and easy read and a tour de force through roman history from the kings to the fall of the emperors. I found it entertaining, but you should start with it, since if you are already deeper into the subject it doesn't offer much new insight.

A few books by my favourite experimental archaeologist, Marcus Junkelmann. I don't know if his books were translated into English, though. This guy builds and uses all the equipment he and his colleagues dig up! He marched across the Alps and along the Limes in legionary equipment, fought as a gladiator (various styles) and trained military horses the way the roman legion did. He's fucking awesome!

Gladiatoren. A very in depth look on the equipment, its ties to the development of military weapon and armour from the same time and on the living conditions of gladiators. Very good! If you can read/understand German, this book's a must have!

Die Reiter Roms, part one to three by the same author. So many details, so much context for archaeological finds! So many practical tests! Loved that. If you want to know why a letter from London to Rome took only a week in the first century? This is your book! Interested in the mounted police of the north-eastern border? This book.

A lighter read: 24 hours in Ancient Rome by Philip Matyszak. Exactly this. A whole day at augustinian Rome. With all the religious, mundane and political stuff that happened. You want to know more about roman firefighters? The system of political influence? Medical treatments for the poor? That's your book!

Some more military history: Roman Britain's Missing Legion - What really happened to IX Hispana by Simon Elliott. So much detective work and a lot of context, especially with the fleets, too. Liked that!

That's just a small slice of the cake - that field is vast and so much fun.

But if you are interested in some very good military fiction (backed by the most recent archaeological finds - so constantly changing, I'm afraid), you should absolutely take a look at the "Under the Eagle" series by Simon Scarrow. Very Warhammer in its own way. Great characters! The hard-ass Centurio Macro and the survivor of roman palace politics, young scribe-turned-Optio Cato become unlikely friends. And have lots of adventures. Blood and stuff.

And here's some roman AU Lucius as a treat.

[dailymichifer]

[Archive] fuckyeahlucifersupernatural's fics

fuckyeahlucifer (or carvedwhalebones) is a writer who disappeared from ao3 with their much beloved +89 SPN fics (a lot of Samifer fics and other Lucifer-ships fics) Many have been lost forever, but not all of them, thanks to the Internet Archive.

Here are all the SPN fics I could find:

[Michifer] The Way We Are 'Michael imagines that if he were to sink his teeth into the forbidden fruit, it’d taste just like his little brother.'

[Michifer] Spitting Blood "Sometimes the calm before the storm is all you can hold onto."

[Michifer] Little Brother Michael discovers his punishment within the Cage and he's ready to make it end.

[Michifer] Yuanfen E. They were the founding fathers of physical intimacy and so much more. (bondage, collars)

[Samifer, Nick/Sam] The Devil Wears White "Have you ever confused a dream with a life?" Sam Winchester's been sent to a mental institute, claiming there are demons and angels. In there he makes an unhealthy alliance with a patient, Nick, who wants to keep Sam all to himself.

[Samifer] Snow Sam would do anything to see Dean again. (Season 7, self mutilation)

[Samifer] One True Vessel The patients near the ward mumble and murmur in fear of the one who prowls through the ward. They whisper of a ‘Lucifer’ looking for his ‘one true vessel'... (Sam, Lucifer, Nick)

[Samifer] A Little Piece of Heaven The incident with Gadreel and Dean leaves him more than just broken. Sam moves out of the bunker in search of his little piece of heaven. (Post Gadree, Hurt/Comfort)

[Samifer] Thicker Than Blood M. Who is he to deny his king? (Sam 'boy king of Hell' Winchester)

[Samifer] The Last Truth M. 'He’s broken and Lucifer is still staring at him as if he’s a gift — something to be mounted on a pedestal.' (Sam, Lucifer, Hallucifer, Gadreel, Angst/Comfort, Major character death)

[Samifer] Blood & Creation E. "Lucifer is the only one treated as Sam’s equal, his release from The Cage signifying the reign of Hell and the Era of The Boy King."

[Samifer & Ducifer] Common Ground Despite the favorable odds, Lucifer doesn’t share his first kiss on Earth with Sam Winchester.

[Anna/Lucifer] Lady Lazarus M. The common ground between them is stained heavily in blood. (Serial Killers au)

[Gabriel/Lucifer] Ugly Kind of Love E. "I'll show you an 'ugly kind of love.'" And he did. (Tags; Hammer of the Gods, Major character death, noncon)

Enjoy!

Edit (2023-03-04) 6 more fics!

[Samifer] Speaking in Tongues Sam tries to speak Enochian to Lucifer.

[Samifer] Guardian Angel Guardian Angel (n): An angel believed to have special affection for a particular individual.

[Samifer] Dog Days (chapter 1) God comes to Lucifer with a deal: If Sam accepts Lucifer for who he is (warts and all), he will win his freedom and be with his one true vessel. The catch is that he won't be able to converse with Sam due to being changed into a runt of a puppy.

[Samifer] Home Lucifer helps Sam find a sense of home in his room.

[Samifer] Little Birds Ch1 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Sam finds out that when angels are at their weakest, they become little birds.

[Anna Milton/Lucifer] What Devils Do Lucifer has been keeping an eye on Anna Milton for a while now, and it's only a matter of time until the tables turn and he's on top. Literally.

edit (2023-08-12) GREAT NEWS

As you may know, some madmad archived the entirety of AO3 a few years ago.

I downloaded their metadata file (index) and typing the pseudo "fuckyeahsupernatural" gave me 181 results. All 181 of their fics (SPN, Legion, Dishonored) have been saved and the epubs are in zip files that can be found here:

I converted the index into a pdf: you can use it to find the location of each fic in the zip files. LINK -> EDIT better link HERE (spn fics only)

EDIT2: use this file to access the fics directly & download them

[thetypingpup]

Off Script: Part 1

banner by @yujaemna​

Link to Part 2​

Pairing: The Legion!Xiaojun x Yan!Survivor!Female Reader

AU: Dead by Daylight

Genre: smut, aspects of horror

Wordcount: 12.3K

Content: little rundown of the dead by daylight game at the beginning so you don’t need prior knowledge going into this, allusions to violence and death but nothing graphic (xiaojun’s a killer in this so), yandere content (including stalking, obsession, and possessiveness), fingering (female receiving), praise, petnames (sweetheart and baby), oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, he fucks you against a generator, riding on the couch, little bit of nipple play, knife play, some mask kink, hair pulling (male receiving), no established power dynamics but there’s some switching going on

Taglist: @mint-yooxgi, @hall0ween-twn, @jenoslutie, @yujaemna, @mrkis, @ncteez

The frosted kiss of snowflakes upon your face awakens you. You squint against the snowflakes that land on your skin, melting them with a rub of your fingertips before allowing your eyes to open. You’re surrounded by grass so tall that you have to stand to see above it. The looming overcast and fog is so intense it's impossible to tell if the pervasive haze signifies day or night, though the gloom of shadowed teal indicates that sunlight must be a distant memory. A scattered sprawl of boulders and broken trees lies before you, with snow coated evergreens dotted throughout. Open structures of wood, brick, and concrete are strewn about the grounds, as though the buildings that once were have been dismembered at the seams. A range of snowy mountains looms in the distance beyond the fence of brick towers looped together by steel that mark the boundaries of the territory.

A smile forms on your face as you take in your surroundings. You’ve awakened in this realm before. Mount Ormond Resort has become a favorite location of yours. You wonder how this area, which was once a beacon of relaxed escapism, became such a desolate waste. You don’t know how this place became consumed by the ever present Entity, but you know exactly how to navigate this snow coated domain. The only question is if he appeared here as well.

You start to wander through the grass, searching for the others that appeared in the arena with you. The pursuit of escape is a familiar routine to say the least. Each time you awaken in a new terrain, with no memory of how you arrived, three others awaken with you. The goal is for the four of you to open the doors on either side of the expanse and escape. The price of failure is death, for if you fail, the terror within will hunt you down.  

The terror within is different each time. An assortment of killers inhabits this world, killers that vary in skill and ability. The killer that you face changes each time, but the same ruthless drive to murder links them all. You've been through enough of these trials to have encountered each one at least a few times. 

Other than the variance in locale and killer, these trials follow a constant format. You attempt to escape, or you fall victim to the evil that lurks about. The killer will chase and wound you with their weapon of choice, until you’re weak enough to be caught and hauled away. Once caught, said killer will mount you onto one of the ghastly hooks strewn about the terrain like a crude offering of meat. Should you fail in escaping its grasp, an unholy entity emerges from the darkness, spears your body with the sharp points of its limbs, and takes your lifeless body into the void above. Your goal is for your group to flee before that happens and survive these horrors.

Ordinarily, the civilians clamor for escape, craving the warm glow of The Campfire that marks the end of the trial. The other option is to succumb to the sweet release of death once the horror and pain of these twisted trials proves to be too much. 

You choose neither, instead deciding to be an active player in these games. These trials, a source of terror to so many, are nothing short of thrilling to you. The excitement of the chase, the satisfaction of sabotaging and outsmarting an assailant, the sense of wonderment you feel watching these killers utilize their varied abilities, have all melded together in an addictive adrenaline rush. You deride a great deal of gratification from mastering these trials, taking your time to discover every strategy there is to succeed. To you, a defeat upon one of those grisly hooks is not a harbinger of doom, but rather a spark that sets alight the desire to improve and escape the next time. You have no concept of life beyond this endless loop of death and resuscitation. Since you exist as nothing more than a pawn in this cruel game, you might as well have fun playing. 

You locate the others you’re meant to survive with, spotting them hard at work on a generator; a large engine complete with a row of pistons on either side and a floodlight mounted up top. If your group succeeds in activating this one, only four more need to be activated to power the exit doors. You’re already giddy with excitement, all but skipping into the fractured building to join them. The flickering flame perched on a brick beam lights the way as they work. They tinker with the mechanical structure and it begins to whir to life, the cylinders on the side slowly starting to fire off one by one. You aid them, taking your place on the side and fiddling with the machinery. The floodlight begins to come alight as you make progress, glowing brighter the further along you are in repairs. You’ve done this so many times it’s easy to let your hands automatically move over the console, and even easier to let your mind wander. The whirring of the machine, the blaring beam of the lights, the red paint on the accents, all starts to fade from your perception. 

You wonder again if you’ll see him this round; the knife wielding killer with a smiling face scrawled onto his ceramic mask.

You’ve only encountered him a few times, but that was just enough to have you fixated. You admire a great many of the killers, but he’s the one that has you this enraptured. For one thing he’s fast, faster than any of the other killers, with the unique ability to mortally wound an entire group with a single burst of speed. It turns the lethargic sense of looming danger into a rapid rush of dread, which excites you to no end. The excitement of his pursuit always courses through you with the speed of a match being struck, igniting a flame of arousal in its wake. That flame is fanned by his sheer revelry in ruthlessness, and the way he wields his hunting knife with such expert malignance. You find yourself contemplating the thought of his knife against your skin, slowly running along your flesh, scintillating your nerves with its sharpness. He thrills you to no end, so much so that you’d often linger as he executes his kills. The advantage of being able to immediately pluck your teammate off the hook is abandoned when you watch him. For a few stolen moments, completing the trial ceases to matter. All that matters is him. 

While everyone’s heart races loudly out of trepidation when he’s near, this masked killer has your heart pounding out of titillated desire. You feel yourself getting turned on the more you think about him, wondering how the edge of his blade will feel right against your neck if he does catch you. 

Lost in your thoughts, your hand slips on the generator, and you fumble on the console. Sparks fly from the machine and the resulting boom brings you out of your reverie. Everyone hears the telltale sign that the killer is closing in, your tandem heartbeats pounding louder the closer they get. Your companion is shaking, and you can tell that he already feels the sluggish crawl of cortisol through his bloodstream. You on the other hand are invigorated by adrenaline. You all but jump when you see a flash of that mask among the distant trees. It’s him! You don’t know when you’ll encounter him again, and you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity go to waste.

This is your chance. 

“I’ll distract him.” You whisper sharply to the others, “Run!”

They don’t need to be told twice. They’re quick to scatter off into the night, hoping to never be found. You know that he’ll be able to catch them with a single charge through the woods, but not this time. This time you’re determined to keep his focus on you. This time, he’ll be pursuing you and only you. You step away from the generator and right into the center of this broken building.

The killer steps past the threshold and into the light. The firelight flickers over the curve of his white mask, a mask that’s been muted with scratches and blood stains. The half lit floodlight casts a glow over the demented smile scrawled on the surface. Your heart pounds as he steps closer, as he clutches his knife tighter in his hand. Even from this distance, his presence is looming. It makes the hoodie and jeans he dons appear as if they’re darkened not by dye, but by the umbrage of the night itself. It makes his weapon seem like more than just a simple hunting knife, but a more imposing, dangerous blade. The jagged serrations towards the point of the spine glint with the threat of added agony should he manage to wound you. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you feel his piercing gaze through the holes poked onto the ceramic cover, drawn to those piercing centers by the circles drawn around them. You focus on those central openings as if you’re staring into his eyes, and in your mind, that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

Your heart races with glee. Right now it’s just you and him, just as it should be. No one else deserves to be on the receiving end of his intense stare. With a grin, you take off across the realm, and he immediately rounds on your heels.

The realm passes by in a blur of shadowed teal and towering trees as the chase ensues. The grass rustles noisily as you race through, offset by the ruckus of running over different floors. You dash between buildings, vault over boulders, slide past corners, in an effort to outrun him. He matches you move for move, showing no sign of slowing or stopping. You throw down a pallet to block his path, he hops over it. You run through a shed and jump through a window, he leaps after you. You round a corner only to dash in the opposite direction, he catches onto your trick and follows after you. He remains right on your heels just out of reach, so close you can practically feel the sharp end of his blade, and you have to sprint faster just to gain some distance.

This is why you love chases with this killer so much. You have to be faster to outrun him than any of the other killers, which makes your heart pound and your lungs strain from the effort. The sheer exertion of maintaining such intense speed physically stimulates you. You’re made to employ every strategy you’ve acquired in these trials, providing simultaneous stimulation for your mind. Adrenaline merges with alarmed suspense in the most delectable way, forming the arousal that courses through you. He’s making you work for your victory, and you love every moment of it. The intensity of his stare alone is enough to have you pulsing with need, and now that you have his full attention, now that you have him this close, pure desire starts to bloom within you.

You know exactly where to lead him next.

The killer is grinning behind his mask, his grin only widening as he closes in. He pays no heed to the way the grass gives way to wooden floorboards underfoot as he follows you. Chasing you is the most fun he’s had in ages. You managed to make him break a sweat in this freezing terrain. The challenge you posed has been thrilling to say the least, but now he’s closing in. He’s so close to catching you, so close to achieving payoff for such an intense challenge. He raises his knife, ready to bring it down with a brutal stab, ready to execute a satisfying kill.

But you don’t continue to flee. Instead you stop and turn to face him, not moving, not even flinching as he advances. He’s so stunned that by the sudden shift he halts, the point of his knife hovering right at your collarbone. Only the rise and fall of your chest brings you in contact with the knife for brief moments at a time.

The frenzy of the chase begins to fade, his heart still hammering from the rush as he takes in his surroundings. He sees that you led him into the decrepit chalet that was once the center of the resort, but is now the center of this cursed arena. The blight of age and frost has deteriorated every corner of this place, from the office to the side, to the bar tucked away in the back, to the rooms situated up and around the main area. Black spray paint is scrawled all along the chipping walls and only adds to the sense of disrepair. The roof is so dilapidated that snowfall seeps through, and icicles line the splintered roofbeams. Broken windows fogged up with frost let in whistling gusts of wind and blasts of snow, snow that collects in piles on the ground. The only fixtures that haven’t completely decayed are the fireplace at the center of the room that’s connected to the ceiling with a chimney reminiscent of a furnace pipe, and the conversation pit situated in a circle around it.

You must have stopped in here to offer yourself as a sacrifice, the way so many have before. He can’t fathom another reason to stop mid chase. Except, he notices that you haven’t stopped him in some corner on the far side of the room, pausing when you realize there’s nowhere left to go. You’ve stopped right next to the generator by the stairs, right next to the very thing you need to activate in order to escape. But you don’t. You don’t make any move other than to lean against the rustic contraption, holding your ground even with the blade dangerously close to piercing your skin, tilting your head with coquettish intent. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume that you wanted him to catch you.

It’s certainly an interesting thought.

He takes a single step back to get a better look at you. Even in the dim cover of shadow, your visage is completely illuminated, as if capturing the glow of the fire and claiming it for yourself. It makes it easy for his eyes to rove over your form, and that’s when he realizes- 

It’s you! You’re the one that keeps getting away.

He’s only seen you a few times before, when The Entity decides you should be among the next batch of people he hunts and kills. You’ve always stood out amongst the scores of people subjected to these trials. You’ve always been quicker, more clever than the others. You’ve never shied away from the brutality or cowered in terror. You don’t even seem to fear The Entity, which made you stand out even more. He could never corner you before now, could barely ever get you within reach, but the chase with you was always the most exhilarating. You’ve made him work for it, made him be more agile and quick just for the chance to catch you. With you, he simply had to be better. So even though you always manage to elude him and escape, he finds a round far more satisfying if you are among the humans clamoring for survival. You give him a good enough challenge that he feels his blood pumping faster than before.

He’s only ever seen you in fleeting glances as the landscape whizzes by in a blur, never long enough to take in any detail. In this moment of stillness, he gets to truly gaze upon you for the first time, and he’s in absolute awe. Simply put, he can’t believe just how attractive you are. From your pretty face, to the appealing shape of your body, he’s drawn to every part of you. In his eyes you’re downright alluring, perfect in every way. He’s never encountered anyone this tempting before, and the confidence you exude makes you all the more enticing.

“I was wondering when you’d finally catch me.” Your quip breaks the silence, and your boldness has him taken aback.

“Finally?” He questions curiously, “You’ve been waiting for this?”

You reply with a grin, “More than you know. Took you long enough, by the way. I was thinking you’d never pull it off.”

It seems you’re intent on presenting a challenge in more ways than one, which only tantalizes him more. He struck gold with you.

“Well aren’t you bold?” As bold as you are beautiful, though he reigns in that musing to maintain some veneer of control. Slowly, he runs his knife right along your face, lightly enough to barely ghost your skin. He continues to admire you, his line of sight following the path of his blade. He eyes your alluring features as he traces the knife along the curve of your face and down to your neck. The phantom touch has you shivering in excitement before him. He places the blade right at the soft part beneath your jaw, right where it gives way to the flesh of your neck, “Alright, you have my attention. What is it you want from me?”

He’s been in this situation before, though admittedly there’s never been this much tension sparking in the air like static. But regardless, he’s cornered a person before, so he knows how this goes. He’s certain that your next words will be a plea for him to spare the others, telling him whatever you feel you have to so you’ll let them pass through the exit alive. Maybe you’ll make an appeal for your own life, offer the others so that you might have a chance to escape. He’s fully expecting the same dull appeals he’s heard countless times, but your next words have him stunned.

Instead of reciting some recycled plea for mercy with an equally overdone shrill cry, you request in a rather sultry voice, “I want to see what’s under that mask of yours.”

The suggestive undertones echo loudly, lingering in the air amidst the heavy silence that follows. 

Well, this is new. People have wanted to unmask him before, but that was always so they could try to catch him off guard, or otherwise leave him exposed. No one has ever wanted to unmask him out of a want to see what lies beneath. He’s never inspired such infatuation in someone before, though to be fair he didn’t think it was possible in this environment. Hearing your emphatic confession has him considering that possibility, has him drawn that much more to you, has him pressing you right against the generator in the middle of the room. You start panting softly at this, unable to contain your eagerness. 

These trials present only two options, escape or death, but you’ve somehow presented a third. No one has ever been this bold before, nor has anyone expressed such shameless interest in him. It’s refreshing, like an early winter chill, one that’s instantly followed by a wave of heated hedonistic hankering. He hasn’t felt the touch of another since before he had gotten trapped in this godforsaken figment of reality. He had forgotten there was more to existence aside from the endless pursuit of victims. He didn’t know people could feel anything towards him besides fear, not until now.

He didn’t know he was capable of feeling such lust until now, but you have him absolutely enraptured. You’re so fucking gorgeous he can’t help his attraction to you, which is as instant as it is intense. His mind wanders the longer he stares at you. He’s transfixed by the rise and fall of your chest in time with your breathing. He wonders how your breasts would feel in his hands, and how you would sigh in bliss as he fondles them. Your hands clutch the pipe arched over the generator. He wonders what they would feel like running all over his body, or wrapped around his cock. He wants to make you come undone for him, to bring you to the height of pleasure over and over until you’re trembling. He wants to make you moan, make you cry out, make you beg for more. He wants to tell you his name just so you have something to scream when he makes you cum, just so you have something to remember when he makes all your other thoughts vanish. 

The heated glint in your eyes tells him your mind is reeling with equally depraved thoughts about him. The way your frosted breath puffs from your lips and fans out over the smile on his mask is enticing to say the least. He wonders what you would do, what he would do, without the barrier of his mask between you. Which of you would be the first to close the distance between your lips? At present, it’s truly anybody’s game.

Perhaps now is the time for a new sort of game, especially since you’re so willing to play. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you see my face,” He ponders aloud, pressing the knife right against your racing pulse, “But you’ll have to earn it.”

The wispy waver in your voice tells him you’re already brimming with titillation, “How do I do that?”

“Keep my attention. Show me why I should reveal myself to you.” He quips playfully, wondering if you’ll be just as much of a tease.

Though instead of playing coy right back, you all but blurt out what you want, “What if I satisfy you? Show you pleasure beyond what you’ve ever felt before? Would that make me worthy enough to see your face?”

Now it’s his turn to hear his racing heartrate in his ears, but he retains his composed hum as he speaks, “Perhaps it would. There’s only one way to know for sure.”

With his free hand, he reaches down to undo his pants. Your line of sight is instantly drawn down between his legs, your lower lip retreating beneath your teeth. You can see that he’s already half hard from the pent up tension, which only serves to make you crave him more. He lazily strokes his cock, your eyes following the motion of his hand. You swallow, your mouth already starting to water as you watch. He chuckles at this, “I’ll let you please me, and if I’m fully satisfied, I’ll let you have a glimpse beneath my mask. Sound fair?”

“Yes.” You barely get the word out before you’re already lowering to your knees. The moment your knees meet the floor, you’re replacing his hand with your own, stroking his length.

“Guess I won’t be needing this right now.” From the corner of your eye you see his grip loosening on the knife, and you’re quick to comment. 

“No, keep it.” You insist, peering up at him through your lashes, “I wanna feel it against my skin while I suck you off.”

“You’re even kinkier than I thought. I like that.” He obliges you, bringing the blade up to your throat. His voice deepens to a sensual timbre, accented by the cold press of the blade, “Now suck.”

Slyly, you pull his pants down more and press a kiss to both of his hips, sending pleasant shudders through him. Then, slowly, you take the head of his cock into your mouth. From the moment you wrap your lips around him, he’s already moaning out in pleasure. Your lips feel so fucking good wrapped around the tip, and the way your tongue toys with the head already has his toes curling. You start to take him in deeper and fuck the way you engulf him is downright scintillating. His other hand rests on your head, pushing you down further, already wanting to feel more. You keep up easily, bobbing your head up and down at a steady pace, letting your tongue trace patterns along the underside. Your hand wraps around the rest of his length, working in tandem with your mouth. 

Though muffled by his mask, his moans are unmistakable, seeping through the ceramic cover like the snow seeping through the broken roof. The slick wet sounds of your mouth moving up and down overpower the crackling of the fire and the persistent whistle of the wind. He’s already submerged in pleasure, pushing your head down to take him deeper and deeper with every bob. Pleasure flows through him in time with your motions, overtaking his mind with wanton need. He almost forgets about the knife in his hand until he sees the blade glint when he looks down, and that’s when an idea comes to mind.

He taps your chin with the tip of his knife, prompting you to, “Look at me, baby.”

His breath hitches sharply when your eyes meet. Your gaze emits a surge of arousal so intense his cock twitches in your mouth. He manages to keep the knife steady against your neck, and he clutches it tighter to anchor himself, elsewise he would surely unravel right before your eyes. Half of him wants to let his eyes slide shut in bliss, while the other half wants to take in the way the firelight flickers over your gorgeous face.

“Fuck, you look so pretty, baby.” He can’t help but let the musing slip, letting the visage of control slip just a bit. It’s just so easy to lose himself in the pleasure you give him, to let his mind go blank and just enjoy the wet heat of your mouth and the soft warmth of your hand. It’s so easy to endear you with praise and pet names, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s worth it, seeing your eyes come alight and feeling the vibrations of your excited hums.

You pull back with and stroke his cock at a brisk pace, gasping out a plea for him to, “Keep talking to me. You sound so fucking hot.”

“That’s it sweetheart, don’t stop.” He guides your head back down onto his cock, “Keep using that pretty mouth of yours.”

The praise has your mind reeling, pride swelling in your chest. Even as your mouth works the turgid flesh of his cock, the corners of your lips turn upwards in a proud smile. Every pet name and endearment makes your chest warm with elation, and makes your core pulse with arousal. Reveling in the way his cock fills your mouth, you pick up the pace. You suckle faster, harder, in time with his rough grunts and groans for more. You move down lower and lower, until your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the tip breaching your throat. Every time you swallow, you feel the cold, sharp press of his knife against your throat, your heart racing at the sensation. His hips buck in time with your motions up and down on his cock, and before you know it, your nose meets the zipper of his hoodie with every thrust. 

You look up intently, staring up at the ivory colored cover over his face, and the cruel smile scratched onto the surface. With the barrier of the mask, you’re made to focus on the sounds emitted from within, on his filthy words and guttural moans of pleasure. There’s something melodic to his voice that makes it sound like he’s singing your praises, and it makes pure, aching need radiate from between your legs. Your other hand slips into your pants, pressing against your clit to try and seek some relief. He sounds so fucking good, and you wanna hear more. 

“You’re so good at this baby, so fucking good. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” He pants shamelessly, and it takes everything in you not to cum from his praise alone. You’ve managed to make him come apart already, managed to unthaw his icy resolve with the liquid heat of lust. You can tell he’s getting close from the way his cock throbs in your mouth, from the way his balls tense against your chin. You pick up the pace, sucking faster to bring him to climax. Your other hand fondles his balls, softly enough to tease and titillate, keeping him enveloped in you as you bring him closer to release. He stops you before you right before he cums, tugging you off his cock with a hand in your hair, letting out rasping gasps for air.

Right as you’re about to question him, he answers the query forming on your tongue, “Don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna fuck you first.”

Despite being out of breath, you manage to smirk and breathlessly quip, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You’re quick to stand and lean back against the generator, spreading your legs so he can slot himself between them. Anticipation has your hands working quickly to undo your pants and shove them out of the way, already aching to feel his touch on your bare skin. You barely manage to step out of one pant leg before he pulls you closer with a growl, “C’mere baby. Lemme get you ready for me.”

It’s flattering as well as erotic to see that he’s just as impatient as you. With a strong grasp, he hitches your leg over his hip, bringing you flush against him. That same hand trails down to your inner thigh, before stopping right between your legs. Even through your panties, the contact makes your breath hitch sharply. He strokes your folds through the fabric, the slight stimulation making you shudder already.

“You’re so wet for me baby.” He murmurs, fingers curling into the garment to move it to the side, “Is all this because of me?”

“Don’t be so fucking smug.” You retort, grabbing his shoulders for balance, “I just had you begging for me.” 

“And here you are, soaking wet just from sucking my dick.” He tilts his head, leaning in close enough to mutter right in your ear, “Do you really need me that bad?”

“No more than you need me.” Your fiery retort fizzles out into gasping embers on your tongue the moment his fingers slide between your bare folds.

“Hmm, what was that sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch that.” He hums, chuckling at your wanton moan before he keeps going. Even as he brushes over your clit with meandering strokes, he has you close to losing yourself completely. You arch your hips up into his touch as he rubs circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sound of your needy whimpers delights him, and he picks up the pace so he can hear more. 

Your head tilts back the moment his finger pushes past your entrance. By now your mind is beyond hazy with need, and the relief of finally feeling him inside you has you whining aloud. He thrusts slowly, the slide slickened by the gloss of your arousal. He adds another finger soon after, already feeling you open up for him. The slick friction within you has your mind racing and has a litany of breathy, curse ridden moans pouring from your lips. His thumb keeps rubbing circles over your clit, fueling the flames of pleasure that rage hot enough to burn. You grab onto his shoulders tighter, clutching the fabric of his hoodie for balance as your legs tremble. His fingers move with expert deftness, and you can’t help but whimper, “How the fuck are you so good at this?”

He smirks behind his mask, reaching that tender spot that has you gasping at the sudden surge of elevated pleasure, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

In truth he’s going off of innate conjecture, simply responding to the cues from your body and the wavering pitch of your voice, but it’s fun to tease you this way. He massages your sweet spot with come hither motions, further submerging you in bliss. Just to add to your ecstasy, he wields his knife with his other hand, cutting your shirt open before placing it right between your collarbone and the top of your breast. The blade slowly drags over your skin, the scape of pain sparking static flares of pleasure that have you clenching around his fingers. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out and arch up against the sharp edge of the blade just to feel more. He keeps going easily, wielding his knife with expert deftness, dragging the edge right over your racing heart. He makes you feel the intensity of the blade without breaching the skin, all while ravaging you with his fingers. The only thing that keeps you from writhing in his grasp is the threat of the knife piercing your flesh, the looming danger of which has adrenaline mixing with pleasure in the most delectable way.

If it wasn’t for that damn mask, you’d surely be moaning right against his lips and letting your tongue stroke his own. Your mind reels envisioning what he looks like beneath that mask, and it anchors you to this moment. Would his brows crease the longer he pleases you? Would his lips remain parted as he stares at you? Is his intense stare one of carnal hunger, amorous desire, or some combination of the two? 

As good as he’s making you feel, you want to feel even more. You want something bigger and thicker than just his fingers, something that connects you to him fully. Your back arches, pressing your chest right against his. Your body craves even more contact, even more sensation, even more of him. 

“Fuck me already.” You plead, earnest desire shining in your eyes, “Please, I want you to fuck me, now.”

Neither of you waste another moment. With his aid, you’re perched right against the generator, precariously balanced right on the edge of the jutting console. He grabs your hip and both of you moan aloud as he slides into you with ease. He eases his way all the way inside you, fully enveloping himself in your tight heat, groaning all the while at how good you feel around him. Rocking his hips, he starts to fuck you right against the generator, keeping the blade pressed against you all the while. 

The rustic engine creaks loudly and rocks with every thrust, but neither of you pay this any heed. All he’s focused on is how you’re practically sucking him in with every thrust, and all you can focus on is the feeling of being stretched out on his cock. He fucks you at a steady pace before gradually picking up speed, smoothly rolling and gyrating his hips to make you gasp out in pleasure. The knife provides the perfect press of pain to have you spiraling into a whirlwind of bliss. You both come apart easily, melting into each other, merged right at your thrusting hips as you grind against each other in search of sensation. Despite the pervasive frost, heat builds between you both intensely enough to have sweat beading on your brow. 

“So good.” He groans languidly, drawing out the syllables, the forehead of his mask pressed to yours, “You feel so fucking good baby, fuck.”

You clench around him at this, making him moan louder. You buck your hips to meet his thrusts, trying to get him even deeper, trying to feel him even more. Your mind blanks, your body absolutely alight with bliss, and you pant out moan after wanton moan. He shifts the angle ever so slightly, just enough to have him reaching another soft spot deep inside you. The action makes you keen aloud and tossing your head back, arms wrapping around his neck, “Fuck yes, right there! Right there, yes! Harder!”

Tossing his knife aside, he uses both hands to grasp your ass instead, pounding right against that spot. He pistons his hips, faster and faster as the moments pass, grunting in pleasure all the while. The head of his cock presses right against that tender spot over and over with each thrust, your breathing reduced to rasping puffs of air as you try to keep up. He rails you with reckless abandon, surges of pure euphoria coursing through you at a breakneck pace. You take it all in eagerly, greedily, grabbing him tighter so you don’t completely slip away. 

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s it.” He mutters, his voice lowered to a rough growl, “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of the other people trapped in this trial sneak near the chalet in search of a generator. Their hearts begin racing being in such close proximity to the killer, but they inch closer nonetheless. They peek through one of the busted windows, only to see you getting railed right against the generator they need to power to escape, only to hear him groaning shamelessly about how good you feel while you let out choked cries of bliss. They scurry off in search of another generator, though even their loud footsteps can’t be heard over the cacophony of carnal decadence within.

Caution has been tossed to the winter wind. Right now, the circumstances that led you here; the trial and the looming evil that permeates this world, don’t fucking matter. All that matters is the profound pleasure you feel, the intensity of your close proximity, and the satisfaction that you finally have each other within your grasp. The coil of ecstacy curls tighter in your core with each passing moment, signifying your impending release. His pace starts to falter, hips stuttering, signifying that he’s right there with you chasing his high.

“Gonna cum baby.” He manages to breathe out between rough groans, grabbing onto you tighter to anchor himself, “Wanna feel you cum right on my cock.”

“Cum in me. Please I wanna feel you cum in me so fucking bad” Your plea sounds like a half delirious babble, but he hears you loud and clear.

A few more thrusts and he’s stilling against you with a drawn out groan, spurts of liquid release shooting deep inside you. Feeling his cock pulse with every spurt of cum has you careening over the edge of ecstasy. The infernos of euphoria sweep through your body in blazing waves that consume you whole, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you scream. You shudder and tighten around him in fluttering pulses through your orgasm as he works you through it, suspended right in the throes of pure, primal passion.

You pant heavily as you cum down, letting your hands slip from his shoulders down to either side of the generator. He likewise loosens his grip on your ass, though his hands still rest on the curve of your cheeks. You lean back and away from him, just to get a reprieve from the intense heat. The pervasive winter chill settles over you both, cooling you in just the right way.

Your query breaks the silence, “So, have I earned it?” 

“Earned what?” He questions, still somewhat out of breath.

“Getting to take your mask off.” You quirk a brow and chuckle, “Have you forgotten already?”

“In my defense, my mind has been occupied for the last little while.” He slyly replies, running his hand along your bare thigh, “Can’t imagine why.”

You huff out a laugh that brings with it a puff of cold air, “Yea that’s a real mystery.”

“But I’d say yes, you’ve earned it sweetheart.” Pushing back his hood, he reaches behind his head, undoing the fastening that keeps the mask in place. You straighten up attentively, eager to see him fully. Finally you’re getting what you’ve been waiting for. You can’t keep the smile off your face when you see him lower the mask and move it aside. The ceramic no longer conceals his face and oh…wow…

You assumed he would be hot. You hoped he would be hot, but the face staring back at you is nothing short of stunning perfection. You’re drawn right to his sharp eyes, so intense you can easily get lost in them. His smooth skin glows in the radiance of the firelight, the highpoints of his face reflecting the flickering gleam. Your line of sight roves over his thick black eyebrows, his raised cheekbones, his sharp jawline, and you’re left wondering how the hell someone can be this beautiful. He’s a living contradiction, with long hair gray as ashen snow framing a face that exudes youthful elegance. The personification of regal beauty stands just across from you, the kind of beauty that must be shielded from hellish landscapes like this one. Perhaps that’s why he wore the mask. You don’t know. All you know is that the bow shaped pout of his lips looks so soft, you want to pull him in for a kiss and never let up. 

Smug pride doesn’t begin to encapsulate what you feel when you realize that you’re the only one that gets to witness such beauty.

Your expression must be one of stunned bewilderment, because he comments on it with a bemused chuckle, “You can pick your jaw up off the floor, sweetheart. I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

You adamantly refute this with a shake of your head, “No, on the contrary. You look even better than I ever envisioned.”

“Am I really that hot?” He jests, huffing out a laugh.

“Better.” You tell him earnestly, “You look like royalty.”

You reach out to him, fitting your hand to the curve of his face. He lets you, and even leans into your touch ever so subtly, which has a giddy sense of glee blooming in your chest. The longer you stare, the more heat rises to the surface of your cheeks. You’ve seen his face, claimed your ultimate prize, and it’s even better than you could’ve imagined. All of this begs the question; what do you do now?

As far as you’re concerned, there’s only one thing to do.

A moment later, both of you close the distance with a series of searing kisses. Already you’re moaning into each other’s mouths as you savor the softness of each other’s lips. Already you’re grasping at each other as you try to get impossibly closer. You’ve been wanting to kiss each other the whole night, so now is your time to ravenously indulge.

Without breaking contact, he helps you off the generator, leading you over to the couches that line the conversation pit. He falls back onto one of the curved cushions of the couch, pulling you down with him by the hips. Your tongue slips past his lips and meets his, and he eagerly parts his lips to let you lick into his mouth. Your tongues come together with each kiss, sensually stroking each other, and you moan right into each other’s mouths. His hand comes up to the back of your neck to pull you closer, just as your own hand runs through his hair. You straddle his lap, letting yourself settle right on top of him as you continue to make out.

Now that he’s finally kissing you, he only wants you more. Your lips feel so fucking good against his, so soft and perfect, and he never wants to stop feeling you. Hearing your satisfied hums against his lips only adds to his delight. He wants to keep being your source of enjoyment, the reason for your sighs of content and your cries of ecstasy. He wants to keep exploring your beautiful body, to discover all the ways to make you feel good, to shield you from the harsh winter chill by kindling the fires of fervent desire. Most importantly, he wants to be the only one to do so. Fatigue from such intense sex is the only thing keeping him from acting on his desire to give you more. Besides, he quite enjoys languidly kissing you like this. It’s pleasant to say the least.

The apples of your cheeks simmer with the heat of infatuation, searing hotter as his thumb starts running over the curve of your face with every kiss. Your heart soars at the fond interest you feel emanating off of him, which is just as potent enough to match your own. You never want to leave his side, never want him to stop dousing you in such intimate affection. Pleasure was fun, but this is just as rewarding. Sharing kisses is just as satisfying as sharing orgasms, and now that you’ve done both with him, you’re over the moon with elation. Having the exact source of your obsession in your arms like this fills you with covetous joy, and you don’t plan on letting him go any time soon. 

The kisses you exchange get gentler and gentler until they come to a stop, that sensual softness building between you taken over by the pull of slumber. Before you know it, the only sounds in the room are the crackle of the flame, the ever present trill of the winter wind, and the soft sound of your breathing. The last thing you remember is resting on the rise and fall of his strong chest, and the soft warmth of his lips upon your cheek.

Beyond the bounds of your perception, the dark entity that reigns over this cursed domain feeds off your emotions, and thus lets you remain to indulge in each other for the time being.

*****

You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep. The endless night makes it so you can never tell how much time passes. It could’ve been a few hours, it could’ve been a matter of days. You have no way to know. The sky is just as dark and the snowfall is just as heavy as before, so it’s truly anyone’s guess as to how long you’ve been here.

You hear the telltale cry of agony and anguish as someone gets mounted on a distant hook. The bellowing, otherworldly snarl that follows tells you The Entity has come to claim yet another unlucky soul. Mild disappointment settles in your chest when you realize you missed a chance to watch him kill again. You suppose your time with him is over. 

You tug your clothes back in place, planning to depart through one of the gaping holes in the wall. Surely at least one of the exits is open now. Surely the others couldn't have been that incompetent. Time to survive yet another trial. That disappointment festers and permeates as you scan the walls in search of an opening in the worn wood. You don’t want to leave to face another killer that’s not him, especially now after you’ve just been so intimately entwined. You glumly ponder how long it might be before you get to see him again. 

Before you can make it away from the couch, he advances on you with a burst of speed. In the blink of an eye his body is pressed against yours, his arms are wrapped around you, and the edge of his knife is laid against your throat. He murmurs, low and rough in your ear, “Where do you think you’re going sweetheart?”

He’s still here! Fuck, this is the first time he managed to catch you off guard, and it’s even more thrilling than you ever imagined. That familiar match of arousal is stricken up your spine, prompting you to let out a soft moan. The cover of white in the corner of your eye tells you his mask is back on, that the latest unlucky victim didn’t have the privilege of seeing the beauty that’s concealed within. He’s fired up from a fresh kill, and your pulse pounds between the serrations on the back of his blade.

You shrug, though you settle into his arms, “Going back to The Campfire. Shouldn’t you be off to another realm by now?”

“That only happens if everyone here either dies or runs off, and as far as I can see, you still remain.” The frosted wisps of his breath tickle the side of your neck and drive a warm shiver through your body.

“Then hook me, or let me pass through the exit, so we can complete this trial.” You tell him, though your reluctance to continue that endless loop seeps through in your voice. After waiting for so long you finally got the chance to have him, and you’ll be damned if you let this go to waste. But the warmth of The Campfire calls, and the image of its flaming light flickers at the forefront of your mind.

Thankfully, he seems to have the same mindset, for he admits that, “As far as I’m concerned, the game’s not over yet. I’m having way too much fun playing with you baby, and I have a feeling you wanna keep playing with me too.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You waited so long for this, and there’s no way you want to stop now. The piercing frigidness of the blade against your neck contrasts the warmth of his body, and you want nothing more than to melt in his embrace. You want to keep feeling his touch all over you, for him to fully acquaint himself with your body, to give yourself to him completely. Now that you’ve seen his face, you want to feel his lips join the fray and grant you pleasure. Just thinking about it makes you ache for the possibilities.

Seeking to add to your desire, his other hand slowly trails down your side as he hums right in your ear, “Why go back out there in the cold, when I can keep you warm in here?”

His words sound rather intimate, warmed by the smooth, endearing lilt with which he spoke them. His query rolled off the tongue so naturally neither obscure the moment by questioning it. Heat brims right at the surface of your cheeks and your heart flutters rapidly. Both sensations are only intensified as he grasps right where your hip meets your leg, wordlessly requesting to keep going. You arch up against him and grant him access, letting your thighs part just enough for him to slip his hand in your pants between your legs. His fingers find your clit instantly and you whine at the sudden surge of pleasure, whimpering as he slowly strokes your sensitive bundle of nerves. He strokes you at a meandering pace, keeping his focus right in your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning in his arms. Already his touch sets your body ablaze. Already you crave more of what he has to offer. Already you’re sinking into his touch. The press of the knife keeps your body tense enough to remain upright, because without it, you would’ve surely melted into the floor by now. 

“Besides, I can’t possibly let you go now.” He murmurs right in your ear, his voice sending pleasant shudders down your spine, “You’ve seen me without my mask. How do I know you won’t just reveal my identity to the next batch of victims?”

You halt his motions by grabbing his wrist for emphasis, turning your head just enough to smirk at him, “Because I want you all to myself.”

His eyes widen in shock, stunned again by your words alone. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. You’re just full of surprises. 

You surprise him yet again by turning around in his grasp, taking off his mask so quickly he barely has a chance to react. You fit your hand to the curve of his face as the blade rests against the curve of your neck, though there’s not a hint of fear in your voice when you speak, only avid affinity, “I’m the only one that got to see this stunning face. I don’t wanna share this with anyone else.”

You lean in closer, your face so close he can almost feel your mouth against his when you say, “I want to be the only one to ever see you like this, the only one to please you. I want my lips to be the only ones you’ll ever feel against yours. I want my embrace to be the only one you fall into. I want to be the only one you give yourself too. I want you to be mine, all mine.”

He stands there in shock, lips parted to speak but he’s stunned to silence. It’s like you reached into the deepest recesses of his mind to draw out his innermost desires, desires he didn’t even know were present until you brought them to the forefront. He’s never had someone so enamored he inspires such possessive infatuation, though to be fair he’s never afforded himself the chance. But he wants what you’re offering. He wants you to overtake him completely. He wants it so bad, and he didn’t even realize how much until you brought it out of him. He wants to be yours, just as he now wants you to be his. No one else should have you, and he doesn’t want to give himself to anyone else. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” He leans in, almost close enough for your lips to touch, “Make me yours, sweetheart.”

When your lips meet, an inferno of decadent desire blazes within you both. Your kisses are messy presses of lips, the slick slide only enticing you more. You grasp the hair on the back of his head, and his knife falls to the floor with a clatter, his hands finding purchase on your ass once again. You fall back onto the couch and pull him on top of you, just as he had done with you not long before. His thighs rest on either side of your hips, his tongue running over the swell of your bottom lip, requesting access to your mouth. You’re quick to pull him closer, grabbing his shoulders while you let your tongue mingle with his. Already, his hips are rolling against yours, grinding against you as he moans into your mouth.

He’s yours. No one else’s, just yours. An avaricious growl deepens your moans as you move your hands down, grabbing hold of the zipper of his hoodie. He nods, silently telling you to take it off. You make short work of the zipper before sliding the garment off his shoulders. He ardently reveals himself to you, and you move to do the same, sitting up to grab the hem of your shirt and tug it off. You discover he was only wearing a simple tank top beneath the hooded sweatshirt that leaves little to the imagination, and the sight of his muscular arms and toned chest has your breath hitching. 

“Oh wow…” He emits a low sound of awe at the sight of you without your shirt, his eyes instantly drawn to your breasts. 

“Like what you see?” You quip, tilting your head slyly.

“Love what I see.” Is his growled response. You feel his hums against your skin as he leans in and peppers kisses all over your chest, exploring the slope of your breasts with his eager mouth. You sigh in content and arch up against him, loving the soft warmth of his lips against your skin. It’s so easy to lose yourself to him, to let yourself go and let lust take over, to sit back and take in the sensations he gives you. He kisses his way down your body, his lips lingering at your belly as he unfastens your pants. He takes his time tracing the contour of your waist with his mouth, slowly making his way down to your hips, making pleasant rushes flutter through you. He eases your pants down your legs, and you lift your hips to aid the slide. He pauses once your panties are exposed, rubbing your clit with his thumb right through the fabric.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” He stares right at the wet spot in the center of your panties in awe, watching it get even wetter right before his eyes.

Instead of a snarky quip, you confess with a soft sigh and run your fingers through his hair, “You make me feel good.”

He peers up at you with an impish grin that has no right being as attractive as it is, “I bet I can make you feel even better.”

“And how would you do that?” You tilt your head curiously, though you already know the answer to your own question.

He curls his fingers in your panties, not taking them off just yet, wanting to tell you exactly what he means first, “Well, you did make me feel really good when you went down on me earlier. It’s only fair that I return the favor, right sweetheart?”

“Sounds fair to me. Go for it.” You nod emphatically, already clenching around nothing at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

Your approval spurs him on. He shucks your panties down in one smooth motion, kneeling on the floor before you. You turn and spread your thighs, and he’s quick to move between them, his tongue already making its way between your folds. The first drag of his tongue against your folds has you moaning aloud, head tipping back against the couch. He licks at you slowly, taking in the way you taste, letting the tip of his tongue flick your clit before he’s diving back in. His hands grip your thighs as he presses in deeper, his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue laps up the slick arousal seeping from your entrance.

“Fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” He rasps out in bewilderment, and before you can answer, his lips latch right onto your sensitive bundle of your nerves. He suckles slowly, drawing out the pleasurable sensations and drawing languid moans from between your lips. You grab onto his hair, pulling it up and away from his face.

How he manages to look so pretty from this angle is beyond you. His full lashes fan out over his cheekbones in the most charmingly coquettish way. The high points on his face glow with a flickering golden amber hue from the fire. His eyes have deepened to a beautifully deep hue of hedonistic want, and when his eyes meet yours, your breath is drawn right from your lungs in a sharp hitch. He hums as he pleases you with his mouth, moving his head back and forth every so slightly, just to make you moan. His tongue runs right over the very tip of your clit, and sinuous sparks of sensual bliss shoot up your spine in surges.

He pauses once more to catch his breath, mouth agape as he stares up at you and earnestly says, “I can’t believe I waited so long to taste you. Fuck, you’re delicious.”

As much as his shameless raving about how good you taste makes you swoon, you feel that aching need for more radiating from your core. You grasp his hair, pressing his face right against your quivering folds, “Then why don’t you stop talking and make up for lost time?”

His eyes roll back before fluttering shut at your commanding tone, instantly obliging with an eager moan. He pulls you closer, tugging your hips to the edge of the couch so you can drape your legs over his shoulders. He increases the intensity, sucking and licking your clit with a fervor you haven’t yet seen. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you whine for more, your hips arching up against his face. Your nails dig into the couch and scrape along the cushion before you decide to grab onto his hair, tugging the strands of ashen silver for purchase. He grasps your hips with both hands, but makes no moves to stop you from fucking his face. The more incessantly you buck your hips, the faster he goes, determined to bring you to the edge. He moves down for a moment to trace your entrance with his tongue, making you squirm right against his tongue.

“Please, more. Fuck, give me more.” You pant, your thoughts too scrambled to form a coherent sentence, “Wanna keep feeling your tongue.”

He smirks up at you, seeming to understand exactly what you mean. Your eyes roll back before fluttering shut as you feel his tongue push inside you. The wet muscle fits to the contour of your inner walls, stimulating you from the inside. You whine louder, chest rising and falling rapidly as your mind begins to whirl. He licks up your arousal right from the source, hungrily feasting on your essence. He groans at the taste, sending vibrating thrums of titillation right through your core. You buck your hips up faster, all but fucking yourself with his tongue, and he lets you fuck his face with fervent enthusiasm. Pleasure courses through you in intense waves, your thighs trembling on either side of his head the longer you remain immersed in the sensations. Your pleasure quickly begins to mount, that coil in your core tightening with the tension and pleading for release.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimper, rocking your hips against his face as you chase your high, “Make me cum baby, please.”

He keeps fucking you with his tongue with a rough groan, the vibrations of which only intensify your pleasure. Bringing his hand towards the apex of your thighs, his thumb traces circles over your clit, driving closer to the edge. All it takes is a few circling strokes of his thumb and another few laps of his tongue before you’re coming completely undone. You cum right against his face, the wet heat of your release flowing right onto his tongue. He laps up your essence eagerly, greedily, taking everything your orgasm gives him. Your eyes squeeze shut as you ride out your high, rolling your hips against his face in time with each bout of ecstasy that rolls over you.

Your eyes meet as soon as you come down, and you’re instantly overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. He grins up at you, pressing kisses to your thigh that have your heart fluttering in your chest. His lips are completely slick with your release, glistening in the firelight, and his face is tinged with the prettiest pink hue from the exertion. His hair in complete disarray, the silver locks haphazardly strewn about and falling over his face. Even though he looks totally fucked out, he still manages to be so damn pretty, his visage elevating his fucked out appearance to paint the portrait of absolutely wrecked debauchery. You’re ready to move to your knees to return the favor, only to be stopped by a shake of his head, “I want you to fuck me.”

He takes his place on the couch right beside where you’re sitting, making quick work of his pants and underwear. He chucks them aside, revealing his fully hard cock. Your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip at the sight of precum beading at the tip, flowing down the length of his turgid flesh and glinting in the light.

“Did you get that turned on just from eating me out?” You return the jest from before, leaning closer to him. Instead of quipping back, he leans in too, capturing your lips with a searing kiss. Your lips meet in a messy lip lock that’s little more than a tangle of tongues, fully portraying your need for more. You shudder in arousal at the taste of yourself on his tongue and the slick softness of his lips.

Pulling away, he beckons you closer with a sultry stare and a hand stroking his cock, “C’mere and ride me, sweetheart.”

You don’t need to be told twice, especially not in the face of such a delectable display of desire. Straddling his lap, you’re quick to sink down onto his length, hands resting on his shoulders as you ease yourself down. You take him inch by inch, stretching around his girth, moaning all the while. 

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.” He groans, grasping your hips to bring you all the way down onto his dick.

“Only for you baby.” You hum, grinding your hips once he’s bottomed out, “Only for you.”

A pink hue stains his cheeks at the pet name and you grin at the sight. Slowly, you start up a pace of moving up and down on his cock, making you both moan at the feeling. From this angle, his cock gives you exquisite pleasure in a new, impeccable way, brushing against a tender spot you didn’t even know was there. The head of his cock meets that spot every time you bring your hips down, making you shudder and squirm on his lap. His hands roam your body while you set the pace, rolling his hips up to meet yours in search of more friction. Tugging your bra out of the way, he fondles your breasts, his eyes transfixed on the way they move in his hands.

You gasp out a whine when his lips wrap around your nipple, relishing in the radiating warmth of his wet mouth, “Fuck, keep doing that baby. Keep fucking doing that.”

Nodding he keeps sucking on your nipple, letting his eyes slide shut as you pick up the pace. Your pleasure intensifies, making you bring your hips down harder as you chase another rapidly approaching orgasm. He matches your fervent desperation, his hips bucking up to meet yours at the same rapid pace. Your fingers run through the hair on the back of his head before grasping the strands right at the root, pressing his face in deeper. He whimpers out a deep moan at this, pulling back just to rasp before sucking on your other nipple, “Harder baby, fuck me harder.”

You bring your hips down harder in response to his plea, feeling him moan around your nipple. His hands roam your thighs before grasping your ass once more, holding onto you as he feels himself slipping away into bliss once more. You’re quick to follow him into that chase for ecstasy. It mirrors your chases with him across the arena of the trials, with him hot on your heels as you speed ahead. Only this time, the arousal from before is replaced with palpable pleasure that has your head spinning, that has your body rolling with every flare of bliss that’s ignited within you. This time you have each other in your grasp, with no plans to let each other go. This time, you sprint to your final goal of ecstasy as one, working in tandem to bring each other to the edge.

You breathe out that you’re about to cum, your hips stuttering every so slightly as the need for release overrides the attempt at coordinated movement. His thrusts are just as sloppy, simply focused on driving his cock deep inside you over and over again. He mumbles right between your breasts, pressing himself as close to you as he possibly can, “Cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum on my cock so fucking bad, please.”

You bring your hips down one final time, crying out in bliss and arching against him. Feeling you clench around him in fluttering pulses has him falling into the abyss of euphoria with you, his release spilling into you in spurts of hot cum. He tosses his head back and you see the ecstasy that overtakes his gorgeous face, his lips falling open to let out cries of bliss. The flickering flames of ecstasy burn much hotter than the fire behind you, bombarding you with a hot white deluge of passion that rolls beneath the surface of your skin in cresting waves. You grind against him, driving the head of his cock against your tender spot, riding out your orgasm for as long as you possibly can.

As you both come down from the precipice of pleasure, your lips meet once more. Your kisses are softer this time, your mouths slotting together in barely there presses of lips as you try to catch your breath. You let your hands curl around the column of his neck and caress him, just as his arms wind around your waist and keep you close. For a while you bask in the warmth of the fire, and the warmth of the sentiment brewing between you. 

To say he’s ecstatic is an understatement. In a dull existence of endless trials to appease a dark entity, you’ve given him the perfect respite. You provided more than just stimulation, but true passion and excitement, something to actually get his blood pumping. He can’t believe that he was being pursued by someone as gorgeous as you all this time, and the realization has his face warming. Holding you in his arms like this, sharing in that post orgasm afterglow while you’re still connected in the most intimate way, is something of a dream come true. A smile lifts the corner of his lips, widening the longer he kisses you, and he’s sure you can feel his grin against your lips. He can see himself falling for you already, and he can feel an obsessive affinity beginning to brew. He already can’t envision being with anyone else like this, ever. Already, he feels like you’re the only one that he needs. Already, he wants to be the only one that you ever need. 

Little does he know that he already is.

As for you, you’re elated that you’ve managed to snag your own slice of heaven in this hellish world. Even though you’ve already fucked twice, you still can’t believe you finally got him all to yourself after what felt like endless pining. Basking in his undivided attention, his surprisingly gentle embrace, his curiously tender kisses where he smiles against your lips, is better than you could’ve ever hoped. What makes you even happier is that he seems to yearn for you as you yearn for him, that in all of this, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You can’t believe you’re intimately entangled with him, savoring the warmth of his body as you lean against the rise and fall of his chest. When you shift closer, and press your chest to his just right, you can feel that his heartbeat is in sync with yours. Just as it should be. Just as it should always be. 

There is just one glaring detail that’s missing.

“What are you thinking about?” He gently breaks the silence, his hand meandering over the small of your back in soft strokes.

“Honestly?” You huff out a laugh, “I realized something. I don’t know what to call you besides baby. You seemed to like that quite a bit.” 

“It’s Xiaojun.” He says, quietly enough to be hidden by the whistling howl of the wind.

You weren’t expecting him to open up so quickly, “What?” 

“My name. It’s Xiaojun.” He repeats without hesitation, quickly adding, “I’ve never told anyone that before, but if I’m yours, I figure you ought to know that.”

“And as much as I like calling you sweetheart, I wanna know your name as well. I want you to be mine just as much.” The very real feeling of his hands caressing your thighs is the only thing that tells you that you’re not presently dreaming. His request, as well as the grin that lifts his lips when he makes it, makes you dizzy with joy. He wants to know you too? He wants you to be his? You can hardly believe it, your mind reeling so much you have to steady yourself on his shoulders. You barely feel your own lips moving as you tell him your name, but the way his eyes brighten tells you that he must’ve heard you. He repeats it to himself, slowly, savoring the way the syllables melt sweetly over his tongue like candy. You smile knowing that he’ll be the only one to know something so personal about you, and you’re the only one who will ever know this detail about him. He really is yours. Xiaojun is really yours.

Up until now, The Entity has been feeding off of the lust and the affection brewing between you both. The Entity has let you be for what it has deemed to be long enough, and now it compels you to reset. That entity implants an image of The Campfire in your mind so intense it’s all you can focus on, making the familiar flame call to you with a shrill, piercing command to return. He sees you grimace, and instantly knows what’s going through your mind. 

“The Campfire calls?” He attempts to smile, though a touch of dismay crosses his features.

You sigh once the shrill sound quiets down, mirroring his expression, “The Campfire calls.”

You pull away from each other, gathering your clothes from where they’re strewn about on the couch and sliding them back on. The fabric of your shirt is split over right around your collarbone from where he cut into it earlier, and you smile at the reminder of your time together. Maybe next time, he’ll leave marks of lovebites and hickeys upon your skin. Now you have something to yearn for the next time you see him. You watch as he puts his clothes back on, your gaze lingering on his hands as he zips up his sweatshirt and puts the hood back on. 

He grabs his trademark mask from off the floor, but he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead he makes his way over to you, pressing a final kiss to your lips with a vow of, “I will see you again.”

You grab his hood and kiss him as well, whispering your own vow against his lips, “You better, or I’ll fight through The Fog myself to find you.” 

[girlactionfigure]

SUMMARY Tuesday Israel Realtime

🔻no overnight rockets / drones

▪️HOSTAGE CEASEFIRE LEAKS.. “the head of the Mossad continued the meetings in Qatar during the night and plans to return to Israel today. The negotiations have officially started and “there is a solid basis for starting talks”.  High level of Mossad, Shin Bet and IDF work teams are deployed in Qatar.”

All reported demands are OUTRAGEOUS, EXTREME, war loss type of demands.

▪️BIDEN SAYS.. on his Twitter account: "Today I spoke again with Prime Minister Netanyahu regarding the latest developments in Israel and Gaza. I continued to confirm that Israel has the right to persecute Hamas, the terrorist group responsible for the worst massacre of the Jewish people since the Holocaust. 

I reiterated the need for an immediate ceasefire as part of a deal to release the hostages, which will last several weeks, so that we can return them home and help the citizens in Gaza. I asked the Prime Minister to send a team to Washington to discuss ways to fight Hamas without a major ground operation in Rafah"

🔸GAZA.. the new battle for al-Shifa hospital, which was re-taken by Hamas as a command and control site, shows the IDF has a humanitarian problem - Hamas is consistently hiding in maximum civilian casualty sites, and a control problem, it appears they are taking and smashing but not occupying. 

While the Prime Minister announced Israel WILL go into Rafah, we also hear “a few weeks of preparation” while at the same time the U.S. is demanding approval rights on the approach, to make sure Hamas’s human shields are kept safe while Israeli hostages continue to rot.

The US, via various unspoken and now spoken threats, is effectively stopping Israel in Gaza.

🔸LEBANON.. tit-for-tat attacks continue. The Lebanese now report 90,000 evacuated civilians, and around 400 dead, with about 4 of 5 being Hezbollah fighters - an incredible targeting success although perhaps too discriminate? 

Hezbollah continues a gradual use of bigger weapons, and the IDF continues large bomb attacks.  But in both cases staying on mostly military targets and within short range of the border.

 🔸YEMEN..  Houthis continue daily shipping attacks, most miss, some interceptions by US/UK ships. The Indian navy has helped several hit ships. The Houthis admitted the Iranian navy ship is feeding them targeting data, the Iranians deny. 

US / UK bombings are basically ineffective, with them reporting “11 attacks, we took out 3 missiles”.

Saudi bombed the Houthis, not related to shipping, and the UAE announced the formation of a foreign legion / mercenary force to fight the Houthis in Yemen.

🔸JERUSALEM.. with tens of thousands of nightly worshippers, the Temple Mount compound has been kept controlled so far through Ramadan. There were a few attempts at riling up the Arab public via propaganda, such as “they’re installing blocking gates!” which were actually replacing of rotted out police control fences.

🔸JUDEA-SAMARA (West Bank).. the IDF continues a high volume of nightly counter-terrorism raids and arrests. However, there are also several daily attacks on the roads, shootings into towns, stabbings at checkpoints.

🔸SYRIA.. Israel bombs regularly sites where Iran is stocking weapons headed towards Hezbollah. But Iran continues to ship in weapons AND fighters. 

US bases in Syria have NOT come under attack since the US asked Iran nicely to stop it (and released to them $10 billion).

Turkey is now attacking northern Syria, where they have a Kurdish rebel cross border problem, and has committed to eliminating the problem and taking control of a security zone.

[notgonnaedit]

Healer's Heart

Aftermath

Summary: When Order 66 ushers in a new era, Althea and the Batch must find their place

Pairing: Bad Batch x Teen!OFC (clones being good brothers/dads)

Chapter summary: Order 66? Why are the regs acting so strange, and Crosshair too? Who is the young girl on Kamino, and why does she claim to know the Batch?

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Order 66, death, inhibitor chips, long chapter, Crosshair being the worst, Althea being angry at him, Omega, yay! (If I miss a tag LMK)

Master list

Separatists pushed to the brink. Republic forces continue to mount victories on battlefronts across the galaxy. After the Jedi Knights thwarted an attempt to kill Chancellor Palpatine, the evil droid, General Grievous, retreated to the Outer Rim. With his legions of battle droids severely depleted, Grievous mounts a brutal counter attack across several star systems. We find Republic clone troopers locked in deadly combat on the besieged world of Kaller. Lead by Jedi Master Depa Billaba, they struggle to hold their position as they wait for reinforcements to arrive.

The clones fought tooth and nail as the droids closed in, three tanks with them. Depa Billaba ducked down into the crater she and the Captain awaited reinforcements from. "Not to be a pessimist," The Captain started. "But if the commander isn't back soon with those reinforcements..."

"My Padawan will be here." Depa insisted. 

"Master!" On cue, Caleb Dume slid down the tall hill lined with trees. Snow kicked up from his boots as he jumped into the crater. "Here. I'm here."

"Caleb, where are the reinforcements?" Depa asked.

"Don't worry." The boy said confidently. "They're right behind me."

Both Depa and the Captain glanced over. Nothing but the snow and trees. "Uh, where are they?" The Captain asked.

"Caleb." Depa's voice grew stern.

"Trust me." The Padawan said.

The Captain shifted. "Well, how many are there?"

"Six of them."

"Six?" The clone repeated. He shook his head in defeat. "We're done."

Caleb chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I thought but you gotta see these clones. They're different."

As he spoke the trees rumbled. The droids halted their advance to observe. They fired upon some attacker unseen by the Republic troops, but it was soon revealed to be a boulder that crushed a large chunk of the battalion. Out from the trees came five figures, their only goal being to destroy every droid in sight. "Make a hole!" The big one yelled as he smashed several droids. Another used a knife and blaster combo with a young girl. 

The Captain looked through his binocs in disbelief. "I don't believe it. That's Clone Force 99." Another clone used droid poppers on a large group, and the fifth used his scomp arm as a weapon.

Althea grinned under her cloth as she stabbed several droids and blasted them. Hunter had been teaching her some new moves. Speaking of the Sergeant, he contacted Crosshair who was sniping from the tree line. "Crosshair, let's get these tanks moving."

"Sir, yes, sir." In an instant the tanks were connected by a rope, attached by the one in the middle. Wrecker pushed the one nearest to the cliff, sending them over. The demo man managed to climb over the falling tanks, scrambling to safety. Tech tossed a droid popper to one. "Hey, clanker. Catch." 

It no time, all the droids were destroyed by a particularly large explosion caused by Tech. "Drop your weapons and surrender." One demanded before Wrecker ripped it's head off. Crosshair slid down from the hill, catching up to them as they approached the Jedi and took of their helmets.

"If you're done hiding down there, I suggest you laugh a counter attack." Hunter said. "Another droid battalion's approaching."

"The General is the one who gives the orders around here." The Captain said.

Depa held out her hand. "He's right, Captain. This is our chance. Launch the counter attack."

"Yes, General." The Captain turned to his troops. "All right, men. Let's go!"

As the regs moved to attack, the Jedi and Captain climbed out of their crater. Wrecker grinned at the sight of Caleb. "There you are, little Jedi. You missed all the fun."

"Watching your team in action was the fun." The Padawan said as he flipped back his hood.

Depa did the same. "Care to introduce your new friends, Caleb."

Caleb nodded. "Yes, Master. This is Wrecker, Hunter, Althea, Echo, Tech, and Crosshair."

Depa nodded. "While I'm not sure 'fun' is the sentiment I would express, I agree with my Padawan. Your exploits were quite impressive."

Wrecker furrowed his brow. "Exploits?"

"Don't overthink it, Wrecker." Crosshair said as he chewed his toothpick.

Echo, ever the reg, nodded to Depa. "Thank you, General."

"Now would one of you please explain where my actual reinforcements are?" She asked.

"Rerouted to the capital." Althea offered. "We're all your getting."

Wrecker laughed. "Ha! We're all you need."

"Actually," Tech said as he stared at his datapad. "If my intel is correct, the general will not need any of us. The Clone War may soon be over."

"Better tell that to the clankers headed our way." The Captain told him.

"I am referring to the encrypted comm chatter." Tech countered. "Clone intelligence is reporting Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau."

Echo hummed in thought. "If captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure will collapses."

Althea nodded. "And the droid armies along with them." She had been fighting in the war for almost a year. The war that killed her family, and led her to a new one. It would be strange, no longer fighting droids.

"A fascinating theory, yet unfortunately not something we can control from here." Depa said sternly. "I suggest we focus on the task at hand."

"Any orders?" Hunter asked, a small smirk on his face. "Or shall we do what we do?"

"Let's blow something up. Yeah!" Wrecker added with a fist pump.

Depa looked down at her Padawan. "Well, Caleb, shall we let them do what they do?"

Caleb grinned. "Only if I can go with them."

Depa smiled. "Very well."

Althea smirked at the Padawan. "Hey, kid. You ready for this? We move fast." Caleb was probably the same age as her, but the young medic had picked up the habit of calling you get troops "kid" from the other Batchers.

Caleb smirked. "Good. That's the only way I know."

Wrecker laughed as he put on his helmet. "I like him." Hunter nodded to the General, giving her a quick salute before running off to the next battle. The snow crunched under their boots as they ran, but soon Hunter realized that only six pairs, not seven, were running. The sound of blaster fire reached his ears, along with the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber. He turned to see that Caleb was no longer with them, but rather running towards his Master, blade at the ready. 

The clones were firing upon General Billaba, gunning her down as she screamed for Caleb to run. The Bad Batch turned around and ran to the Padawan, confused as to what just happened.

Caleb had unshed tears in his eyes as he stood defensively. "Stay away from me!" He turned and ran into the forset.

"Kid, wait!" Hunter called after him, but he was gone.

"What... What just happened?" Althea asked.

"The comm channel is repeating one directive," Said Tech. "Execute Order 66."

"Yeah, I heard that too." Wrecker said. "What's Order 66?"

Tech furrowed his brow. "I am not certain."

Althea bit her lip under her mask. Did the regs seriously just kill General Billaba? 

"Echo, Tech. Talk to the reg Captain." Hunter ordered. "Find out what you can. Crosshair, Thea. We'll track down the kid and make sure nothing happens to him. Wrecker, stall anyone who tried to follow us."

With their objectives known, the squad split up. Hunter, Crosshair, and Althea made their way through the trees, placing their steps carefully as to not fall down the hill. Hunter scanned the ground for footprints and felt the brush for movement. "He's close."

Crosshair scanned the trees from atop his rock perch. "There." He nodded to a brown cloak in the trees, hiding the scared Padawan.

"Come on down, kid." Hunter said kindly. "We're here to help." Crosshair loaded a round and shot. "No!"

Caleb deflected the laser easily with his lightsaber. "Liar!" He jumped to another tree and out of their sight.

Althea turned to Crosshair. "What are going doing?"

"Following orders." The sniper responded.

Hunter shoved him lightly. "We don't even know what the order is. Stand down until we know what's going on." He turned to find the kid with Althea, but Crosshair stayed put for a moment.

"Good soldiers follow orders."

As the trio searched the woods, Wrecker's voice clicked on over the comms. "Hunter, you you've got regs inbound." He drawled out "regs" like it was an insult.

"Copy that." The Sergeant told him.

Tech's voice followed. "We have a situation."

"Tell me something I don't know, Tech." Hunter scoffed.

"It appears the regs have been ordered to execute the Jedi."

All three of them stopped in their tracks. "What?" Hunter asked. "Which Jedi?"

"All of them. They're saying the Jedi have committed treason."

"That would explain things." Crosshair said softly.

Althea turned to him, a mix of confusion and disgust clear on her face. "It's doesn't even begin to explain things!"

"I suggest you get back here." Tech advised.

Hunter shook his head. "Can't. Haven't found the kid yet."

Crosshair turned around and aimed his rifle to the trees. "Wrong." He fired, breaking the branch the Jedi was on.

Caleb let out a startled yelp as he fell to the ground. He stood, making no move as the snow settled around him. Then in an instant, he activated his lightsaber and attacked, blocking as Crosshair shot at him.

"Crosshair, stand down."

"Stop it, Crosshair!"

But Hunter and Althea's pleads fell on deaf ears, resulting in Caleb disarming the sniper and raising his own weapon. "Don't!" Hunter cried. But the Jedi didn't plan on killing Crosshair and instead kicked him into a tree. 

Crosshair's head lolled to the side, signaling he was unconscious. Althea ran to check on him as Hunter confronted Caleb. The Sergeant threw his blaster to the ground and held his arms out like he was calming a wild animal. "Take it easy, kid. Easy. I'm on your side."

Caleb ran away, and Hunter chased after him. The Sergeant followed until he found the Padawan standing at the edge of a cliff. Waterfalls narrated the scene as Hunter pulled off his helmet to talk to the kid.

"Stay back!" Caleb snarled.

Hunter kept his arms raised. "Just hear me out."

"No! You killed her!" Caleb's eyes were brimmed with tears.

Hunter felt the kid's pain and let out a sigh. "The others did. I'm just as confused as you are."

Doubt flickered across the Padawan's eyes as he inched away, sending pebbles tumbling into the chasm. "Stay back. Stay back!"

Hunter held out one hand. "I can help you. Come with me." Behind him, he could hear the regs footsteps nearing. Just a little longer. Caleb stared at the Sergeant, seemingly considering his words. But the regs sounded from the forest and a look of betrayal changed the Jedi's face before he jumped.

"No!" Hunter stepped forward, but the kid landed safely on the other side, stopping for only a moment before disappearing into the trees.

Crosshair and Althea reached Hunter. "Where's the Jedi?" The sniper asked.

Hunter set his jaw. "I stunned him when he jumped. He didn't make it." He walked away into the woods while Crosshair stayed behind for a minute. Althea followed Hunter, jogging slightly to catch up. He was lying, and she knew it.

"Hunter..." She said softly, knowing only he could hear over the crunch of the snow.

"I know, Thea." Was all he said. It was clear he was deep in thought and Althea was too. Both of them had questions that neither could answer.

                     •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The Marauder dropped out of hyperspace, flying into the atmosphere of a familiar stormy planet. Tech and Wrecker sat in the front, with Crosshair and Hunter sitting behind them, the latter trying to sleep. Echo stood behind Tech's chair and Althea behind Wrecker, since their ship only had four main seats. "We're coming up on Kamino." Tech said.

Wrecker smiled and folded his arms. "It's good to be home. How long has it been?"

"180 rotations in a standard cycle," Tech said. "But galactic zone changes put the adjusted figure around 205."

Both Wrecker and Althea stared at him with blank expressions. "What?" The medic asked.

Echo sighed. "A long time."

Wrecker's smile returned. "You got that right."

Behind them, Hunter had his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping, but he wanted to. It was hard to sleep, however, when he could feel Crosshair's helmeted gaze. "What?"

"You sure that Padawan died when he fell?" The sniper asked.

"Sure I'm sure. Why?" Hunter opened his eyes slightly, daring Crosshair to challenge him.

The sniper took that challenge. "Well, usually when someone falls you look down, not across."

"Well, some of us don't like to watch." Hunter stood, ending the exchange. He stood behind Althea, giving the medic a soft smile before looking to the storm that surrounded them. Two V-wings came up on either side of the Marauder. "Unidentified transport, transmit your clearance code."

"Clearance code?" Echo asked. "Don't they know who we are?"

Althea shrugged. "Must be a protocol drill."

Tech pressed a button as thunder shook the sky. "Transmitting clearance code."

"Authorization confirmed. Proceed to landing bay one-tac-one." 

Tech flew the Marauder into the hangar. As the team stepped out, the first thing Althea noticed was the amount of troopers present. Even some with red painted armor walked past. "Shock troopers?" Hunter asked. "What's the Coruscant Guard doing here?"

"Level five lockdown remains in effect." The P.A. sounded. "Security teams, report to the command center."

Tech tapped his datapad. "This isn't a drill."

"Oh, man." Wrecker groaned. "What'd we miss now?"

"The end of the war." A passing shock trooper said.

"Say again, Trooper." Hunter said.

"General Grievous was defeated on Utapau." He said. "The Separatist leadership has collapsed. The war is over."

"Just like I said." Tech added.

Wrecker gasped. "It is just like you said."

Althea frowned when she saw troopers carrying a stretcher with a body. The cloth covering it made it hard to tell, but the medic was sure it belonged to General Shaak Ti. She had only met the Jedi once, but Althea didn't think she deserved whatever death she was faced with. Hunter eyed it as well, staring as a lightsaber hilt fell from beneath the cloth.

A trooper picked it up. "Is there a problem?" He asked.

"No problem." Said Hunter slowly. "We'll just head to our barracks then."

"Best hurry." The trooper said. "There's a mandatory general assembly at 1500."

Hunter had the feeling they needed to blend in, and that was going to be difficult.

Althea frowned as they walked through the stark white halls of Kamino. Clones marched in uniform in all directions, all different colors and custom armor. "It's not just the clones on Kaller. All the regs are acting strange." Hunter remarked.

"Let's test that theory." Tech broke away from their group to speak to a group of regs. "Excuse me, Trooper. What division are you from?"

The reg shoved Tech with his shoulder and continued on. "Step aside."

"Oh." Tech shrugged. "Well, they seem the same to me."

When they reached their barracks, Wrecker let out a breath of relief. "Ah! Good to be back."

"The smell's getting worse." Echo said.

Althea flashed him a smile. "You're still new. You'll get used to it."

"Speak for yourself." Crosshair said as he shoved himself between them. Althea rolled her yellow eyes as she sat down on her bunk, placing her bag and blaster on the mattress. Hunter, Echo, and Tech sat at the table in the center of the room while Crosshair set his pack down by his bunk.

"Well, I'll get the board." Wrecker said. He drew his knife and began carving more tally marks I the wall by the door. "Eleven more successful missions." He chuckled as moved to his bunk. "Like there was any doubt."

"Kaller wasn't a win." Echo said, his voice dark with seriousness.

"Says who?" Wrecker asked as he tossed his Lula from hand to hand. "We completed our objective."

"Not every objective." Crosshair sneered. "Hunter let that Jedi kid escape." He turned to their leader. "Or do you want to keep lying to us?"

Hunter stood and moved to the window. His brown eyes seemed grey in the dim light. "I don't like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective."

"An order is an order." Crosshair argued.

Hunter turned, his eyes flashing with controlled anger. "Since when?"

"None of this makes sense." Althea said, earning the attention of the fighting brothers. "Those clones served alongside General Billaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?"

Tech tinkered with one of his gadgets. "Because of the regs programming."

Hunter looked to him, his glare remaining present. "What programming?"

"It's been well documented that the Kaminoans inhibited the cognitive functions of clones to engineer them to follow orders without question." Tech explained.

Wrecker threw his arm around Crosshair's shoulders. "Ha! We sure don't." He hit the sniper in the face with Lula, causing him to shove the demo man away.

"Obviously, we are different." Tech continued. "They manipulated preexisting aberrations in our DNA, resulting in your brute strength, Crosshair's sharpshooting skills, Hunter's enhanded senses, and my exceptional mind." He said he last part with a small smirk. "My guess is we are immune to the effects of the programming." His gaze flickered to Crosshair. "Though I can't be 100% certain of it."

"What about Echo?" Hunter asked. "He was a red before he joined us."

The former ARC nodded. "Yeah, if all regs were programmed, why didn't I react like the others?"

"The damage you sustained on Skako Minor most likely wiped out all of your preset behavioral modifications. You are more machine than man..." Tech gave him a sympathetic look. "Percentagewise, at least."

Echo sighed. "Lucky me."

Althea caught Lula as Wrecker tossed it to her. She hung upside down off her bunk, her long hair touching the floor. "I could do some crazy doctor stuff and attach human fingers to your scomp if you want." She tossed the Lula to him.

Echo rolled his eyes and caught the toy with his good hand. "I think I'm good."

"It's probably for the best." Althea agreed. "I doubt Wrecker will donate his fingers."

The demo man stammered. "Wh-why my fingers?"

Althea did her best to shrug upside down. " 'Cause Crosshair will bite me if I take his."

Before their conversation could get any stranger, the P.A. system clicked on again. "All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic." 

"This is one meeting I don't want to miss." Hunter said as he moved toward the door. Althea folded herself forward, doing a reverse somersault onto her feet.

"First time for everything." Tech remarked as they walked out.

                      •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

All clones stood in the staging area in perfect uniform. Althea stood between Wrecker and Echo, her shoulders back and her head held high. It was hard, being a teenager who spent most of her time with clones. The Bad Batch was nice, but it's wasn't often that regs were. Rex and Cody were firsts. She often had the need to prove herself, despite the other Batcher's affirmation of her worth.

"And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled." The Chancellor said on the hologram. "The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed."

"You can say that again." Wrecker mumered to Althea, earning a smirk from the girl.

"But I assure you. My resolve has never been stronger! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability..."

Hunter lost focus of the Chancellor's words. He looked up to were Nala Se and the Prime Minister stood and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But something there caught his attention. A young girl, it looked like, with short blonde hair pulled back with a head dress and stone like Nala Se's. She squinted down at them, then smiled with excitement.

"What is it?" Tech asked.

"...the Republic will be organized into the first...

Hunter opened his mouth to tell him, but when he looked back the girl was gone. "Nothing."

"Galactic Empire!"

Echo frowned. "Galactic Empire?"

"For a safe and secure society." All around, regs cheered, shouting their praise.

"Still don't think the regs are programmed?" Tech asked. Althea didn't like this at all. She glanced over to Echo, and he reflected her uneasy expression.

                         •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Galactic Empire?" Echo asked as they walked through the halls. "We're soldiers of the Republic."

"Republic, Empire... What's the difference?" Crosshair asked nonchalantly.

"The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me." Tech answered.

Suddenly, Hunter held up his arm to halt them. "Lads, we've got company." They turned around to find a young girl with blonde hair and soft brown eyes.

"Hello." She said with a small wave.

Wrecker crouched down to get a better look at her. "What's that?"

Althea rolled her eyes. "It's a kid, obviously."

The girl smiled. "My name's Omega. I was wondering when you guys would come back."

Hunter stepped forward. "You know who we are?"

"Hunter, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, Althea, and Crosshair. You're Clone Force 99." She said with a grin.

Hunter bent down, resting his hands on his knees. "What are going doing on Kamino, kid?"

Omega opened her mouth to answer, but a voice that was not her own did instead. "Her job, of course."

Hunter stood as Nala Se approached. "She is my medical assistant, one with a curious mind that causes her to wander. Come, Omega. There is work to do." She led the girl away down another hall. Hunter folded his arms as Omega waved goodbye. "This day keeps getting weirder and weirder."

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Hunter listened to the regs in front of him as he stood in line in the mess hall. "His shuttle arrived earlier today." Said one.

"I heard he's evaluating all the clones." Said the other.

"Good. It's about time some of the fat got trimmed around here." They walked off, leaving Hunter to wonder who the Imperial was.

Althea ate her food quietly, sitting next to Wrecker who stood. "Clones being programmed." He scoffed. "Nothing controls me."

"Wrecker, it is a logical conclusion that your affinity for destruction would stem from your conditioning." Tech told him.

The demo man pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You take that back!"

"I am merely stating a scientific hypothesis based on factual data." Tech countered.

"Well, I got a fact for you. I like to blow things up because I LIKE TO BLOW THINGS UP!!" Wrecker slammed his fist on the table, making everyone's food shake. "Got it?"

"Well, I'm convinced." Said Crosshair as he ate his soup.

Hunter walked over and sat down across from Althea. "An Imperial's been sent to evaluate the clones. Everybody's talking about it." Deep down, he worried that Althea would be forced to leave since she was still a kid. He would be damned before someone took her away.

"Hopefully not metal." Tech stated. "Clearly we'd never pass that." His words earned him looks of confusion from his squad, but those were nothing in comparison to the ones Omega earned when she sat down.

"Hello again." She said. Upon seeing their confused faces, she added. "Omega. From earlier? In the corridor?"

"Yeah, kid." Hunter said. "We remember. Don't you have someplace to be?"

"No. I'll stay."

Althea looked at the girl. "You want to sit with us? That's never happened before."

"Wow." Wrecker said softly.

Omega smiled and stirred her soup. "I like you. You don't fit in around here either."

Hunter furrowed his brow. Something was bothering him about her. "What are you really doing on Kamino, kid? Don't you have a family somewhere? Parents?"

Omega scrunched her nose. "Parents?"

Before anyone could say anything else, two shinies walked by. "Check it out. The defect squad's got themselves a new recruit." They chuckled. "Another member added to the Sad Batch." They walked away neither of them expecting (or the Bad Batch) to be hit with food. "What the–! Who threw that?"

Omega was standing on the table, another burrito ready in her hand. "I did. Now apologize to my friends."

Althea grinned at her, as did Wrecker. "I like this kid!" He said punching Echo.

The not-so-shiny reg's face twisted into a snarl. "What did you say to me?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back off." Hunter stood in front of Omega, his instincts taking over. "I suggest you keep moving." 

Wrecker stood behind Omega, ready to defend her.

The reg scoffed before turning away. "Know your place, lab scrabber." If only he knew how fatal his mistake was. Wrecker flung two full trag at him, sending the shiny to to the floor. "Oops." Wrecker said with more trays at the ready.

The reg there down his food. "That's it!"

Wrecker threw the trays. "Oh, yeah!"

Althea grinned as swung her fists in the fight. Echo facepalmed. "Oh, not again." But sure enough, he joined them in their party. Omega jumped on the regs, hitting them with all her tiny might. Hunter ducked and punched as Wrecker dog piled several regs at once. Tech tried to stay out of it, but he fought a little. Crosshair ignored the fight completely, that was until Wrecker threw a reg across the table and spilled the sniper's soup. Crosshair slammed his first on the table in anger before throwing his tray at a reg and finally joining the fight.

Echo fell onto the floor at one point, and his gaze was lifted to a familiar face. He scowled at it, becoming so focused he didn't hear Tech's warning.

"Echo, watch out!" Then the world went dark.

                     •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Althea leaned against the wall of the Kaminoan clinic, arms folding and lips in a scowl. Echo was in there unconscious, but they wouldn't let her in to help. Apparently on Kamino, it didn't matter if someone had healed countless wounds and injuries in the middle of heated battles. If one wasn't a "practiced doctor" then one couldn't help a friend.

"He'll be fine." Hunter must have noticed her displeased nature. "Some of the best doctors in the galaxy are here."

"But they don't know Echo." The young medic countered. "He hates being hooked up to machines. He'll probably have a panic attack when he sees them."

Hunter placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing it kindly. "Echo will be fine. He's one of the toughest regs I know." He smiled down at her warmly. Althea heaved a sigh. She knew Hunter was right, but it never sat well with her when one of her squad needed help and she couldn't do anything. It reminded her too much of Thao.

Hunter, noticing her mood shift, decided who cares? They never follow orders, why start now? He let go of Althea and walked into the med center. Echo was sitting upright with Omega and a droid by his side.

"Ha!" Wrecker laughed as they approached his bedside. "Told you he's alive! You owe me two credits." Crosshair rolled his eyes.

"CT-1409's condition is stable." The droid said. "As is Volunteer Trooper Aaun's. But I have some distressing news for the rest of you. According to your test results, you all appear to be genetically defective clones. I will leave you to process the shock of this revelation." He left, leaving the Bad Batch and Omega to themselves.

"We've got a problem." Said Echo.

"Not really." Tech said. "We're more deviant then we are defective."

Echo shook his head. "Not that. Admiral Tarkin's here. He's the one evaluating the clones."

Tech adjusted his goggles. "The same Tarkin from the Citadel rescue when you, uh... How shall I put this?"

"Blew up." Wrecker suggested.

"And turned into that." Crosshair added.

Echo sighed. "Yes. And he's not a big supporter of clones."

"We're about to find out." Althea said. "We've been summoned by the prime minister."

"Guess he didn't find that mess hall fight amusing." Wrecker said. "But I sure did."

"Come on." Hunter said gesturing to leave. "Let's get this over with."

Echo swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, walking out with the rest of them. But Omega stopped them. "Wait. The fight was my fault. I'm going too."

Hunter shook his head as everyone else moved on. "Not happening. We'll handle this."

"But I..."

Hunter turned to her, his expression stern. "Listen kid. Our squad's nothing but trouble. For your sake, keep your distance. Got it?" When she nodded, he walked away. He really wanted what was best for her, and their squad was anything but that. The Sergeant would never regret bringing along Althea, but sometimes he wished she hadn't seen the things she saw. War was hard enough, but medics saw the worst of the worst. The bloody, the wounded, the grief stricken. Hunter supposed it wasn't that long since Althea had been like that herself. Sometimes when he was still awake at night her could hear her, softly crying to herself. She wasn't loud, if anything she was almost silent. But the Sergeant's ears could catch the sound of a feather landing, so he knew her pain no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

They walked down the hall to see the prime minister, that was until a shock trooper captain stopped them. "Where do you think you're going? The training facility is that way."

"Training facility?" Hunter asked.

"For a battle simulation. Admiral Tarkin has requested to see more of your squad in action."

"So we're not being reprimanded?" Tech asked with curiosity.

The captain shook his head. "No, you're being tested. Now go gear up." He walked away, leaving the Batch.

"So, we're not in trouble, and they want us to fight more?" Althea asked with a smile.

Wrecker grinned. "Ha! Maybe this Empire thing's not so bad after all."

                      •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The Bad Batch stood on the lift carrying them to the training facility. The room was just the same as Althea remembered. 

"The value of all clone troopers is being challenged by the Empire." Said Tarkin from the observation room. "To demonstrate your effectiveness, a combat-proficieny test is in order. Take your positions."

"We've done these a thousand times, boys. You know what to do." Hunter said as he slipped he helmet on. He glanced at Althea, who gave a small nod. She knew she could do this.

"A battle simulation?" Wrecker asked. "Give us a real challenge."

"You may begin."

The standard training droids arrived from a lift in the center of the room. The towers whirred to life as the squad ran to the barriers. Tech, Wrecker, and Althea on the right, and Echo, Hunter, and Crosshair on the left. It was pretty standard, blasting the droids. "Crosshair, take the towers."

At Hunter's words the sniper ran across the room, climbing up the towers by pushing off against the wall. He shot at the cannons, disabling them with his training rifle. Hunter motioned his hand forward. "Move in."

"Finally!" Wrecker shouted. He, Tech, and Althea advanced to the next barrier, shooting the droids and dodging their fire. But it seemed it wasn't exciting enough for the demo man. "This is taking way too long!" He ran into the fray, kicking at a droid before disabling the rest. When he was finished, he tuned to the observation room and laughed. "What else ya got? Gimme more!"

Only moments later, new droids rose from the lift. These ones looked more armored, but that didn't stop Wrecker from charging them. "New toys. Now we're talking. Yeah!" He rammed himself into the droid, but it didn't budge. He looked up in confusion. "Huh?"

Then without warning, the droid raised it arm arm and shot Wrecker, sending him to the ground. Althea ducked her head. "They're using live rounds!"

Hunter scanned the area, checking for an opening. He looked to Tech. "Get Wrecker. We'll cover you."

Tech nodded, moving to help his brother as the others shot cover fire. "Wrecker, are you all right?" He asked dragging the demo man to cover.

"I felt that one." Wrecker groaned as he sat up.

Althea gripped her blaster tightly. It would do nothing against those droids. Even Crosshair was forced to get out of his gunner's nest and was now hiding with Hunter and Echo. Althea bit her lip under her mask. Why did the Kaminoans even have live rounds for training?

A sharp whistle brought her attention to Hunter. He moved his arms, tapping them to each other in a sign. Wrecker flopped back against the barricade. "Oh! I hate hand signals."

"Perhaps if you memorized them." Tech suggested.

"Why don't you memorize them?"

"I have!" Tech rolled his eyes. "What we did on Felucia."

"Well, why didn't you just say that?" Wrecker gave Hunter a thumbs up before running out into he fray. He jumped on several droids, pinning them to the ground as Tech worked the wires. Echo used his scomp as a melee weapon, drilling into the droids' weak spots. Althea, Hunter, and Crosshair provided cover fire, the former of the three using their knives. Hunter flipped over a droid, slicing it's arm before landing and stabbing it's middle.

"Wrecker!" Althea shouted, holding out her hand. The demo man nodded and threw her his large blade. The medic caught it skillfully, using two knives as the perfect way to take down droids.

Meanwhile, Tech had managed to hack into a droid and was now sitting on it's shoulders, firing at the other droids. It wasn't long before the droids began to jerk around. "I can't sustain the connection!" Tech shouted. Just then, another droid shot Tech's to pieces, sending the Batchers to the ground.

"Tech!" Wrecker shouted.

Hunter turned to the sniper. "Crosshair, we need more cover fire."

Crosshair did as he said as the last droid overwhelmed them. "Tech! Hold tight, buddy." Wrecker shouted.

Tech layed on the ground unmoving. "I'm not going anywhere."

Althea ducked, clutching the two knives tightly. That's when she heard it. "Thea! Knife!" Crosshair's voice signaled her to throw Wrecker's knife to him. She did so, and the sniper shot the blade, sending it straight into the droids head. It would never cease to amaze the Batch, mainly Wrecker and Althea, how good Crosshair was with a blaster.

"Wow." Wrecker breathed. He moved to help Tech with Echo.

Hunter came over to Althea. "Nice work."

Althea beamed up at him, but a much darker thought halted her smile. Why had the Kaminoans used live rounds?

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Live rounds?!" Wrecker said as he threw his helmet onto the table of their barracks. "They used live rounds! On us!" He slammed his fists on to the table.

"We were there, Wrecker. We know." Tech replied calmly.

"I tried to warn you about Tarkin." Echo added.

"Who's that Imperial snake think he is?" The demo man growled.

"Stow it, already." Crosshair said. "You got shot. It happens all the time."

Hunter stood quietly by the door, observing the interaction. He tapped his fingers against his knife blade, soft enough not to cut himself. Althea stood nearby, brows furrowed as she worked through the days events in get mind.

"There is a fundamental difference between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice." Tech said.

"Exactly!" Wrecker said, nearing Crosshair. "We're not dummy droids."

"That much we agree on."

A new voice turned the heads of the squad. They immediately stood at attention when they saw Tarkin at their door, Hunter sheathing his knife. "That was quite an impressive display." He walked into their barracks, seemingly not noticing the unwelcome feeling Althea felt.

"Didn't have much choice." Hunter replied. It was all he dare risk in talking back, but he liked risks.

Tarkin turned to him. "Our new Empire may have methods which seem a bit unorthodox, but so does this squadron." He glanced to Althea, a hint of distaste in his eyes. "Both certainly have their merits. Nala Se speaks quite highly of her five advanced clones and their volunteer medic. She claims you're more capable than an army."

"You have a mission for us, sir?" Hunter asked.

Tarkin nodded. "Indeed. We have a group of insurgents to the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with."

"What sort of insurgents?" Echo asked.

"Separatist forces intent of keeping the galaxy at war. If you neutralize this grave threat, you will be looked upon most favorably as I asses the needs of the Imperial Army." Tarkin left without another word, leaving the Batch little time to prepare for their next mission.

                   •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Tech walked down from the Marauder as they prepared to leave. "Find any more intel on the insurgents?" He asked Echo.

The Corporal shook his head as he looked up from his datapad. "Negative. Imperial filed are locked down tight."

Tech took the datapad from him. "Give me time. I'll crack them."

Althea walked over to them, her medical bag packed full with everything she needed. "I had to steal a few things from the clinic. The Empire needs to stock up on field treatments."

As she spoke Wrecker and Crosshair walked over, the former of the two pushing a cart with a large crate. "I'll say this for the Empire, they know firepower. You should see the new armory."

Crosshair folded his arms over his chest. "He actually cried."

Wrecker turned to him. "Hey, we both did."

Althea rolled her yellow eyes. "Well at least you found what you need. But I don't think there's room on board for that."

"Yeah? Well, I'll make room." Wrecker sighed as he lifted the crate over his shoulder. "A new mission and unlimited explosives. Things are back to normal."

Tech followed him as he boarded the Marauder. "That's not going anywhere near my rack. I refuse to sleep by a projectile again."

Hunter entered the hangar, eyes scanning like always. 

"Hunter."

The Sergeant resisted the urge to groan as he heard a familiar voice behind him. He turned around to see Omega, her eyes filled with worry. "I thought I told you to keep your distance."

She swallowed. "I know, but I need to talk to you."

Hunter got down to her level. "All right. What is it?"

Omega glanced around before speaking in a quiet voice. "That Imperial officer, I think he has it out for you. I overheard him talking to Lama Su. He doesn't like clones."

Hunter couldn't help but chuckle. It was almost cute how much she cared. "Ah, that's nothing new for us. But we get the job done."

Omega didn't look convinced. "I don't trust him."

"A mission's a mission. It's nothing to worry about."

"Then let me come with you."

Hunter didn't understand this girl at all. Why did she care so much? "Kid, you're not a soldier. It's dangerous."

"It's dangerous here too." Omega countered. "Things aren't like before. We need to leave Kamino."

"Hunter, let's go!" Wrecker shouted from behind them. 

Hunter needed to go. "Change takes getting used to." He stood up. "You'll see. Just give it time."

He was about to walk away when she spoke again. "Hunter." He turned to listen, but she stopped. "Um, n-never mind."

Hunter walked to the ship where Crosshair was waiting. He looked back at the girl. She was twisting her hands nervously. "Problem?" The sniper asked.

"Um, something about her I can't figure out." Hunter told him.

Crosshair's mouth turned up in a cooked smile. He placed a hand on the Sergeant's shoulder. "Well, I guess kids aren't your area of expertise." He walked into the ship, Hunter following soon after.

With everyone on board, they took off, jumping to hyperspace for Onderon.

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Tech landed the Marauder in a dense jungle. The ground was solid under Althea's feet, but the air reeked of moisture. A creature roared in the distance, sending chills down everyone's spin. "What was that?" Echo asked.

"You don't want to know." Tech told him.

"At least it's not a swamp." Wrecker remarked.

"Close enough." Said Crosshair.

Hunter wasn't far ahead of them, feeling the ground. He touched his hands to the earth, feeling the vibrations even through his gloves. "The Separatist encampment's two klicks south. We'll continue on foot and do a full perimeter scan." Wrecker rushed forward, but the Sergeant held out his arm. "Covertly."

Wrecker groaned. "Oh, come on. It's been days since I've blown something up."

"Easy, Wrecker." Althea said as she walked past him. "Your programming's kicking in."

"Hey! Don't start with that!" He gave her a hard shove, which would've hurt most people. But Althea just sniggered, seeing that her armor protected her from the demo man's force.

As they walked through the jungle, the sound of animals filled their ears, along with the constant beeping of Tech's datapad. "How many droids are we talking about, Tech?" Hunter asked.

The beeping stopped, and Tech hit his scanner against his hand to try and get it to work. "I can't tell from this distance. Something's blocking my scan."

"Clankers always travel in packs." The Sergeant said to himself. "Let's get a closer look at what we're walking into." 

They continued on, stealthily (kind of) making their way through the dark jungle. They came to a ridge, where not far away was light from a campsite. "Tell me what you see, Tech." Said Hunter.

Tech looked through the binocs. "I'm clocking 25 heat signatures ahead but zero droids."

"Tarkin said insurgents, not droids." Crosshair reminded them as he looked through his scope.

"I'm not sure they're either." Said Echo. "There are children down there."

Hunter grabbed the binocs from him. "Children? O-out here? Something's not right."

"What are you waiting for?" Crosshair asked. "Give the order."

Hunter felt something inside twist. But he also felt something approaching. "Negative. Stand down."

"What?" Crosshair's voice held surprise and anger.

"You mean, we're not blasting any droids?" Wrecker asked.

"There aren't any droids, Wrecker." Tech told him.

Althea shifted her weight to her other leg. "Well, so what do we do?"

"We finish the mission." Crosshair insisted. "Make the call, Hunter."

The Sergeant looked around. "We're not alone. Stand down."

As soon as the words left his mouth, several people dressed in blue appeared out of the trees. They out numbered the Bad Batch, and they had their blasters raised. "You heard him. Stand down." One ordered.

Hunter holstered his blaster and raised his hands in surrender. "Let's hear them out. Trust me."

The rest of the Batch did as he said, even Crosshair. But the sniper let out a groan as he set his rifle down.

The "insurgents" led them to the camp. Something felt off about the whole thing. "These aren't Separatists." Said Echo. "They're Republic fighters."

"Why would Tarkin send us to attack our own forced." Althea asked.

A man stepped forward. He had dark skin with a scar raked across his face, dark wild hair, and green eyes, daring anybody to fight him. "Because we refuse to fight for an Empire."

"You're Saw Gerrera." Tech said. "Trained by Captain Rex and General Skywalker to fight for the Republic."

Saw looked them over. One of the fighters took Hunter's blaster and handed it to their leader. Saw took it in his hands. "So, the newly declared empire sent you to wipe us out?"

Hunter looked around in confusion. "Well, we're here to neutralize a group of insurgents."

Saw chuckled bitterly. "Well...here we are." He gestured to the people behind him. Children hiding behind their mothers. "What are you gonna do? Strike us down like you did the Jedi?"

"Is that a request?" Asked Crosshair.

"Enough." Hunter ordered. "We expected to find battle droids, not..."

"Civilians?" Saw asked. "Times change, targets change. Why don't you take a look at the insurgents you were sent to destroy. Makes you wonder what else they're lying about." He turned to his group. "Let's mobilize. Pack up the camp." He walked over to the kids, probably telling them what was going to happen.

Hunter walked forward, questions begging to be answered. "Who are these people?"

Saw stood. "Villagers, croppers, former Republic fighters, all now displaced refugees since Palpatine unjustly appointed himself as Emperor."

"According to reports," Said Tech. "The Jedi made an attempt on the Supreme Chancellor's life. His actions were a defensive measure."

Saw scoffed. "And I figured you for the smart one. With the Jedi decimated and the clone army under his command, Palpatine will have control over the entire galaxy. Unless we stop him."

"The war is over." Althea said, desperately hoping she was right. But Saw's words made her feel that more was coming.

"If we give up now, everything we fought for..." Saw hesitated. "Everyone we lost, will have been for nothing. I won't let that happen. The Clone War may have ended, but a civil war is about to begin."

"With a handful of fighters and limited firepower?" Hunter asked. "You don't stand a chance."

"Not alone we don't."

A fighter approached Saw. "We should leave if we're gonna make the rendevouz. What do we do with them?"

Saw looked at the squad. "The clones once helped us free Onderon, so we'll give them a choice. The old ways are done." He aimed Hunter's blaster at it's owner. "You can either adapt and survive," He flipped the blaster, now offering it to Hunter. "Or die with the past. The decision is yours."

Hunter took the blaster, watching as Saw turned off the light and left them in the dark. They stayed until Saw's form disappeared into the dark of the jungle, but Hunter stopped just as they turned to leave. He thought he heard something, but it was probably just a jungle creature.

As they neared the Marauder, Tech spoke up. "At least with the Republic we knew where we stood. Tarkin and this Empire are a whole different story."

"Why are we debating this? We need to complete the mission." Said Crosshair.

"Wake up, Crosshair." Echo said. "They sent us to eliminate innocent civilians."

"Who said they're innocent?"

That was the last straw. Althea turned to him, leaning up to try and reach his eye level. "Are you kidding me? They're civilians, Crosshair. That's me if you guys didn't take me in. I would be one of those people you're so eager to kill. Doesn't that matter to you?"

Crosshair just narrowed his eyes, giving her all the answer she needed. "It doesn't." She scoffed. "It really doesn't matter to you at all."

"Good soldiers follow orders." Was all the sniper said.

Hunter turned around. "What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Crosshair asked. "I'm following orders."

Hunter narrowed his eyes. "Exactly."

"Those insurgents are plotting against the Emperor. If you don't have the stomach to do what needs to be done, then you're not fit to lead this squad." Crosshair chewed his toothpick, daring Hunter to argue.

Instead, the Sergeant drew his blaster at the sound of a twig snapping, shooting behind Crosshair at an unseen target. "We're being followed."

They approached the target and found a black droid. "That is a probe droid." Tech confirmed.

"Tarkin's spying on us now?" Wrecker asked.

"The Jedi never did that." Said Echo.

"Not that you know of." Crosshair remarked.

Hunter looked down at the probe, a sudden memory surfacing. "Omega."

"What about her?" Althea asked as they walked back to the ship.

"She warned me about the mission. And Tarkin." Hunter told them. "She said not to to return to Kamino, that it's not safe for us anymore."

"Maybe she's right." Wrecker grunted.

"We're taking the word of a child now?" Crosshair asked with a sneer.

Tech stood in the doorway of the Marauder, tapping his datapad. "I would not discount Omega's insight. A state of heightened awareness is no unusual for an enhanced clone such as herself."

Wrecker let out a laugh as he sat on the steps. "Good one, Tech. You almost had me."

"When Nala Se spoke of five clones, Tarkin assumed that meant us, but Echo's a reg." Tech explained. "The fifth is Omega. I confirmed my suspicions after analyzing her DNA while we were in the infirmary."

"And you waited until now to mention it?" Echo asked.

"Well, I thought it was obvious."

"How is it obvious?" Althea asked.

"We're going back for her." Hunter decided.

"Disobeying orders over a kid again? Bad play, Hunter." Crosshair glanced at Althea as he spoke, making the young medic unsure if he really meant it, or if he was just trying to push her buttons. Either way it was angering.

Hunter moved to the ship, near Althea. "She's one of us." Whether he was talking about Althea or Omega was up for debate, but he meant it either way. "We're not leaving her there." He boarded the ship with the rest of them, Crosshair following shortly after.

                   •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Omega stood in doorway of the Bad Batch's barracks with AZI. She walked inside, fascinated by the stuff on the table. "Wow. What is all this stuff, AZI?"

"My scanners are indicating an assortment of armament, curios, and detritus of little to no value." The droid responded.

Omega grinned. "I like it." She continued to roam around the barracks taking note of the personality in it.

"We should not be here, Omega." AZI worried. "Nala Se instructed us to stay in the medical wing."

"Don't worry." Omega said. "We're on... a research assignment."

"A research assignment?" The droid asked excitedly. "Those are my favorite! What is it we are searching for?"

Omega ignored him as he droned on about what they were looking for. The girl really just wanted to see her brothers' barracks. A tooka doll caught her eye, but something beyond that was more interesting. A bunk with a skull drawn on the wall and had a few medals. Hunter's bunk. Omega found an open container under it and pulled out a picture. She closed the container and used it as a seat to look at the image.

It flickered a bit, but it wasn't from too long ago. Wrecker stood with a wide grin on his face, Crosshair next to him with a scowl. He probably didn't want to take the picture. Echo stood on the other side, smiling a bit shyly. It must've been right after he joined the squad. Tech was kneeling on the ground, probably so they could all fit in the picture, and had a slight smile on his face. Hunter seemed to be laughing, his teeth bared in a joyful smile. Next to him was Althea, her own face contorted with laughter. She must have said something funny, since it seems both her and the Sergeant were smiling that way.

Omega smiled at the picture. She wished that Hunter would have let her come. Maybe she could've been in one of these pictures.

A sudden yell from AZI brought the girl out of her thoughts. "Shh! People will hear us." She scolded.

"I have concluded this space unfit for habitation." AZI declared.

Muffled chatter was heard on the other side of the door. Omega grabbed AZI's hand and rushed towards it. "Someone is coming. Time to go." She opened the door, but ran into a shock trooper.

"You're not authorized to be in here." He said.

"I...got lost." Omega lied. "Sorry. It won't happen again."

The trooper turned to his men. "Pack up their gear and ake it to the hangar. You," He turned to Omega. "You're coming with me."

"We will not." AZI said. "We are official Kaminoan medical pesonnel–" He grabbed the trooper.

"Don't touch me, droid." Thanks trooper shot him with stun, disabling the droid.

"AZI!" Omega cried as the trooper grabbed her and took her away.

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"I'm getting no response from com-scan." Tech said as he brought their ship in for a landing. "This is unusual."

"Bring us in." Hunter said. "We'll find out what's going on."

Tech landed the Marauder by the hangar. The bay doors were closed. "Stick to the plan." Hunter said as they stood outside. "Split up, find Omega, meet back here at the ship." He pressed the button to open the doors and the squad entered.

The hangar was eerily quiet. It was empty, a sharp contrast to how busy it was earlier. Hunter raised his arm to signal a halt, and only a few seconds later several clones appeared from behind crates. "Freeze!"

Everyone dropped their helmets and reached for their weapons. "As expected." Crosshair remarked. Hunter's hand gripping his knife, ready to pull it out in an instant. Tarkin  walked forward, flanked by two guards.

"The Empire does not tolerate failure, Sergeant"

"There were complications." Hunter said.

"Yes," Said Tarkin. "The probe droid's report was quite detailed. Conspiring with Saw Gerrera. I assume you know the punishment for treason?"

"Treason?" Hunter scoffed.

"Throw them in the brig." Tarkin ordered. The regs pushed their blasters into the squad's backs, roughly taking them to the brig.

                   •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Stripped down to their blacks, the Bad Batch were shoved into the brig. The guards raised the blue ray shield, preventing any ideas of escape. Wrecker sniffed the air. "Smells weird."

"Because it's clean." Echo told him.

Tech looked around. "Well, the plan wasn't a total failure." 

Everyone looked to where he was gesturing. There sat Omega in the floor, giving a nervous smile and a shy wave.

"Goody." Crosshair sneered.

Hunter moved toward her, squatting to reach her level. "I told you not to come back." Omega said.

"Had to. We were looking for you." Hunter gave her a soft smile.

The girl pointed to herself. "Me?"

"What do you say, kid? You wanna come with us or did we get captured for nothing?"

"You came back for me?" Omega asked again.

"That's right." Hunter told her. "Or you can stay on Kamino if–"

"No!" Omega stood. "It's like I said before. I want to go with you."

Hunter smiled at the girl. Or that was until Crosshair spoke up. "How touching."

Hunter stood, glaring at the sniper. Althea, feeling the fight about to start, coughed. "Uh, Hunter, how are we breaking outta here?"

"I'm working on it." The Sergeant replied, keeping his eyes on Crosshair.

"You know what you should work on?" The sniper asked. "Explaining when you went soft."

"Stow it, Crosshair." Echo said.

"Don't you see we're locked up in here because of him? He had us disobey orders."

"I never thought you disobeying orders was a problem." Tech remarked.

"Yeah. We do it all the time." Wrecker added.

"Good soldiers follow orders." Crosshair insisted. He turned back to Hunter. "Every choice you made since Kaller has been wrong. First the Padawan, the Gerrera. Your becoming a liability."

Hunter stared him down. Every fiber in his being begged to punch Crosshair in the throat, but he pushed those feelings aside. "We can debate my choices later. For now, let's focus on getting outta here."

Althea breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't uncommon for Crosshair and Hunter to butt heads, but this was a whole new level of arguing. 

Suddenly, the ray shield lowered and a shock trooper stepped forward. "CT-9904, you're coming with us."

Hunter moved towards him. "Oh, no, no, no. We stay together."

"Stand down!" The trooper jabbed him in the stomach with the butt end of his blaster. Hunter clutched his middle, dropping to his knees. Crosshair stood and went with the guards, leaving the squad to figure out how to escape. 

Hunter sat at the end of the bench, one arm behind him as he leaned against the wall. Omega did the same sitting next to him. Tired of that position, the Sergeant leaned forward, arm rested on his knee. Omega did the same.

Althea, sitting next to Omega, quickly realized what she was doing and joined in. With both girl copying Hunter, the Sergeant couldn't help but fidget to see what they would copy. Althea sniggered quietly to herself, earning a raised eyebrow from Hunter, but she just mimicked his expression.

Tech sat with his chin in his hand, bouncing his knee. "I've got it." He said out of nowhere. "Why didn't I think of I before?" He moved to sit between Echo and Althea. "This is not a prison."

"Yeah, well, I beg to differ." Echo said.

"This is a Kaminoan facility." Tech explained. "It was built prior to the Clone Wars. There were no barracks or prisons when it was constructed."

"Well, how does that help us?" Althea asked.

"Because while these cells were retrofited to hold normal individuals, they could not possibly account for someone like Wrecker."

Wrecker stood from his seat on the floor. "Oh! You mean I could punch our way out?"

"Shh!" Hunter was quick to quiet him, followed by Omega and Althea.

Wrecker looked behind him at the guards, quieting his voice. "Oh. Right. You mean I could punch our way out?"

"If you punch the correct spot." Tech said.

Wrecker nodded. "Right show me where."

"If this is gonna work," Hunter said. "We'll need some cover. Form a wall." Everyone stood except Tech and Wrecker, forming a walk to block them from the guards view.

Tech slid his fingers down the wall, stopped when he found the weak point. "Hit this here."

Wrecker nodded, ready to swing. "Right. Tell me when."

The guards were turned away. "Now." Hunter said.

Wrecker punched the wall, but not even a dent was made. "Nothing happened." He grumbled. "Are you sure this is gonna work?"

"Try it again." Tech insisted. "A little harder."

"You're all clear. Make it count." Hunter said.

Wrecker punched the wall again, this time denting it. "Oh, it still didn't work."

Tech moved down by him. "Oh, yes, it did." He gripped the bent metal, pulling it back to reveal a small passage into the vents. "Look."

"I'll never fit through that." Wrecker said.

"Astute as always, Wrecker." Tech said. "But I was actually going to suggest–"

"I'll do it." Omega said.

Hunter glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. "You sure, kid?"

She nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay. Get to the console and hit the lever to lower the ray shield."

Omega climbed into the tunnel, Wrecker sitting against the peeled metal to hide it. Althea saw the troopers walking over. "Incoming."

They looked at the squad. "Wait, where's the girl?"

Althea waved. "Right here."

"You know what I mean."

The medic raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

"Where is the girl?"

"You tell us." Hunter replied smoothly.

"Harm her and you're a dead man." Echo said harshly.

The trooper pressed his fingers to his helmet. "Operations, we need a status report on prisoner 0219." There was a sudden clank noise, probably Omega, that caused the troopers to look up. "What was that?"

"Sorry." Wrecker said. "These floors don't hold me so well on account of them not being designed for abnormal individuals such as myself."

Hunter rolled his eyes and Tech facepalmed. The trooper moved forward. "What's behind you?"

"Nothing." Wrecker said as he leaned his hands behind his head.

The trooper gripped his blaster. "Move away from the wall. Now."

"Why don't you come here and make me?!"

The trooper's comm beeped. "Copy that. The girl's still registered in lockdown. Tell us where she is." As soon as he spoke, the ceiling came crashing down. Omega scrambled to turn off the ray shield, barely grabbing the lever before a trooper grabbed her.

"Hey, Red." Wrecker punched the trooper in the head as the rest of the squad grabbed the blasters and stunned the regs. Wrecker placed his hand on Omega's shoulder. "Ha! Not bad."

The girl beamed up at him, like he just said the world to get. Hunter walked to the door. "We need to find out where they took Crosshair. Let's move."

The Bad Batch moved stealthily through the halls of Kamino, Omega and Althea still copying Hunter when they got the chance. Tech let out a sigh. "We're not going to get very far without our gear."

"They stated moving all your things to the hangar." Omega said. "Your gear might be there too."

Hunter nodded. "This way."

                         •°•°•°•°•°•°•

The hanagr was empty, just as before. The squad began to rifle through their things, getting their armor and weapons ready. "Alright, boys, suit up." Hunter said. "Let's make this quick."

Wrecker rummaged through his stuff. "Right. No. No! Where is it? Where is it? It's gotta be here somewhere."

"Tech, power up the ship." Hunter ordered. "The rest of us will go after Crosshair."

Omega picked up the took doll, but her attention was brought to the door. "I don't think we'll have to go far." As soon as the words left her mouth, the door opened. The squad ducked behind the crates as the shock troopers walked in. But leading them was a slender man in black armor holding a sniper rifle.

Althea mouth went dry. "Is that Crosshair?"

Hunter stood, facing his brother. The sniper chewed his toothpick. "Best stand down, Sergeant. Make it easy on yourself."

"Have you lost your mind?" Hunter asked.

"We should've killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders."

"I did what I thought was right." Hunter wasn't about to back down, but neither was Crosshair.

"You never could see the bigger picture." Crosshair said. "Now surrender."

Hunter risked a glance behind him. Echo and Wrecker readied their blasters as Tech prepped the ship. Althea sat by Omega, readying her DC-17 by the girl. He needed to protect his squad. "Is that an order?"

Crosshair smirked. "Heh. I guess it is."

"Well, I guess I'm disobeying that one too." 

Crosshair spit out have toothpick. Hunter's trigger finger iched. Thunder clapped outside, and the Bad Batch was ready to fight.

Crosshair shot first, causing Hunter to duck. "Tech, we gotta move. Now!" He said once he put his helmet on.

On of the regs through a smoke grenade, blinding everyone. "Wrecker, clear the smoke on three." Hunter ordered.

The demo man grabbed two crate lids. "You got it boss."

Althea turned to the blonde girl in front of her. "Omega, stay low." She nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

"One...two.." Hunter counted. "Three!" Wrecker used the lids as fans, hitting them together to make a blast of wind. He threw them once the smoke cleared, but was shot in the chest by Crosshair.

Omega ran to help him, but Althea pulled her back. "Omega, don't! He's using Wrecker as bait."

"But he needs help." The girl pleaded. 

Tech was almost done with the ship. Crosshair tried to close the bay doors, but they jammed. Hunter turned to the girls. "When I say 'go', you head for that ramp and don't stop. Got it? Althea, make sure she gets there. Echo, we go for Wrecker."

The medic nodded, taking Omega's hand. Crosshair sneered from the other side. "Only one way out, Hunter. Your move."

"Go!" The Sergeant said.

Althea ran with Omega, providing cover fire as she made her break. But the girl stopped, and suddenly, a sixth blaster shot out. All eyes turned to Omega as the girl shot Crosshair's rifle out of his hands. The sniper recovered quickly, drawing his pistol and firing. But Omega shot wildly, sending the sniper to look for cover.

With Wrecker recovered, Echo and Hunter boaded the ship, and the team made their escape.

                        •°•°•°•°•°•

"Ouch!" Wrecker groaned as Althea gave him a shot, jabbing the needle in his shoulder. "Hey! Hey, hey, hey. What's that gonna do?"

Althea reached into her bag for another shot. "You'll be okay. Just hold still."

Omega walked up to him. "Is this what you were looking for?" She held out the tooka doll.

Wrecker gasped. "You found my Lula!" While he was distracted, Althea jabbed another shot into his arm. "Ow!"

Omega giggled as Tech walked in from the cockpit. "Let me see here. Hold still." He scanned Wrecker with his datapad, earning a scowl from the demo man.

"Don't examine me." He said clutching Lula. "I'm not a computer."

Omega saw the door to the cockpit was open and wandered in. Hunter noticed, and followed her. "Your first time in space?" He asked.

"First time anywhere." The girl said.

"Impressive shot back there." The Sergeant remarked. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Omega shrugged. "I don't know. I've never fired a blaster before. I guess I got lucky."

"She's not the only one." Tech said as the rest of them walked in.

"I'm fine." Wrecker said as he leaned on Echo. "It'll take more than a blaster shot to take me down."

"You were down." Echo deadpanned.

"Yeah, well, not for long." Wrecker laughed then immediately groaned.

Althea turned to the Sergeant. "What's the plan, Hunter?"

"I thought we could go off in our own. Lay low." The leader said. "But with Crosshair gunning for us, I'm not so sure."

"What about your friends?" Omega asked. "Could any of them help us?"

Tech sat in the pilot's seat. "That would be a shirt list."

Althea's yellow eyes lit up. "I can think of one." She smiled up at Hunter, who looked at her knowingly.

"Plot a course for J-19."

"J-19?" Echo asked.s

"We know a guy." Althea said with a smirk.

Wrecker grinned. "Yeah!"

Texh prepped the ship for hyperspace, and Hunter turned to Omega. "Strap in, kid. You're not gonna wanna miss this view."

She sat down in the co-pilot's seat, watching with interest as Tech readied the ship. Hunter rested his hand on the back of the seat. He was brought back to old memories at the sight of Omega seeing hyperspace. Her eyes sparkling of at the idea of a new adventure. It reminded him of himself at her age, always ready for what's next. But now, the Sergeant didn't know what was best for them, and that idea scared him.

Hope y'all enjoyed this 11,390 word chapter! It took me a few days.

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