#Tech Whump

[kybercrystals94]

Exposure

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 10 - Prompts: Blow to the Head / Slurred Words / "I can't think straight."

Rated: T | Words: 1566

A/N: I am not a medical profession. Do with that as you will 🫠

Fear takes root when Hunter stops shivering. 

The temperature in the shallow cave has not improved, Tech knows that much. He has been monitoring the weather conditions closely, hoping that the storm will pass, that the interference preventing their distress signal will clear. Unfortunately, the concept of hope has little effect on natural events. Hope, however, does prevent panic, so Tech clings to the fragile abstraction, metaphorically, with both hands. His actual hands are numb, even under his gloves, knuckles swollen and sore. His fingers struggle to do what should be the simple function of unclasping his armor. 

“What are you doing?” Hunter asks, syllables slurring together almost incomprehensibly. 

“Removing my armor,” Tech states simply. It is far too cold to elaborate further. 

The Sergeant glares up at him blearily, mismatched pupils blown wide with concussion. “Why?” 

Tech does not explain. It is taking all his focus just to remove pieces of plastoid with clumsy, uncooperative fingers. If Hunter would simply be patient, he would be able to see soon enough. Tech liberates himself from his cuirass and backplate and moves to the challenging bits of armor clinging to his arms, silently cursing their smaller latches. 

“Tech,” Hunter growls. If he is aiming for authoritative, it is undermined by the weak breathlessness of his voice. However, it does renew the fervor with which Tech fights with his armor pieces. 

At last, Tech drops the last segment of armor from his upper portion, leaving him in just his thermal blacks from the waist up. He kneels next to Hunter and begins to repeat the process on his barely conscious brother. 

“What are you doing?” Hunter demands again, trying to pull away. 

“We need to get your body temperature back up,” Tech explains. His voice trembles, teeth clacking together. At least he is still shivering. That is a bright side. 

Hunter makes an indignant sound, as though it is Tech who lost his helmet and received a blow to the head rappelling down the cliff face in ice and snow. “By taking off our armor?” 

“We must lend one another our warmth,” Tech continues patiently, “which cannot be achieved through amor. Please hold still. 

Hunter slumps back against the cave wall obediently. He watches Tech work, blinking slowly. “I’m not cold,” he says. “Not anymore.” 

“I understand you feel that way,” Tech says. “That is a sign of moderate hypothermia. We must work to raise your internal temperature as soon as possible.” 

“Not safe,” Hunter mumbles. 

“It is our only choice at this juncture. Unfortunately, we lost our emergency packs in the fall. They will be buried in the snowfall dozens of meters below us by now.” 

Hunter’s brow furrows. “’s my fault.” 

“It was an unfortunate accident,” Tech corrects him. 

Tech finds some small sense of triumph as Hunter’s upper armor is more easily removed. He stacks their cuirasses and backplates near where Hunter is situated, retrieves his data pad, then sits down next to his brother. He draws the wounded man to his side. Hunter does not produce any warmth to share, merely absorbing Tech’s limited supply. With his free hand, Tech haphazardly arranges the larger armor pieces in what he hopes will be a small barrier from the elements. 

It will not last long. They will die of exposure if help does not arrive soon. 

If the storm does not let up soon. 

If their brothers do not find them soon. 

Soon. 

Soon is not on their side. 

“You’re shaking,” Hunter mutters drowsily. 

Tech wants to explain that shivering is a preferable state to Hunter’s; however, he merely jostles the man a little too roughly. “You have to stay awake,” he orders. 

Hunter utters something that Tech cannot make out. 

Tech answers nonetheless. “No. I need to rest. You’ve got the watch. Do you understand? You need to keep watch for the others to find us.”

Hunter becomes heavier against his side, deadweight. 

Tech shakes him again. “You must stay awake, Hunter.” His voice breaks, only partially from the intense cold plaguing him. “Please. Stay awake. Help is coming.” 

Hunter doesn’t respond. 

Time slips by. 

Tech isn’t shivering anymore. 

**

The landscape is white, clean, and dangerous. Crosshair’s sharp eyes slice across it, searching for imperfections, disturbances. Signs that their missing brothers are out there. Waiting for Echo to pinpoint their location is taking too long. Every lost second carries a heavy cost they can’t afford. 

Wrecker crashes through the fresh snow, pacing. “Where are they?” he demands. 

Crosshair tips his head, expression shielded by his helmet. “If we knew, we wouldn’t be looking, would we?” he snarls. 

“Not helping,” Echo tells him through comms. He’s on the ship, trying to boost the signal. 

Crosshair bites out, “Neither is he. Neither are you. They’re probably already dead.” 

“Don’t say that!” Wrecker stops his pacing and looms over Crosshair. He looks like he might lash out physically. 

Crosshair shifts, squaring up, wordlessly daring Wrecker to try.

“Both of you, knock it off!” Echo orders, ARC voice bladed. 

Wrecker deflates immediately, but Crosshair holds his ground a moment longer, claiming a weak and idle victory. He can’t see Wrecker’s face, but his body language, like his voice, is loud. The drop of his shoulders, the angle of his helmet. Wrecker is scared, like the rest of them. They all know the likelihood of Hunter and Tech surviving the elements without proper gear. Crosshair voicing it doesn’t change the terrible facts. 

He cannot bring himself to apologize in so many words, so Crosshair bumps against Wrecker’s arm, hard, with his shoulder. “If anyone could figure out how to survive, it’d be those two.” 

Wrecker’s posture lifts. “I know they did.” 

“I got something!” Echo calls out, making their in-helmet comms hiss in protest. “Putting in coordinates now.” 

Crosshair and Wrecker clamber on board, and the ship is already off the ground before Crosshair punches the button to close the hatch. 

**

Hunter wakes feeling trapped. 

He can’t move his arms or legs, bound by a strange, encompassing weight. His first, mind-addled reaction is to panic, writhing frantically to free himself from the swaddling confines of whatever is holding him.

“Hey! They’re just blankets, di’kut, kriff,” Crosshair’s voice snaps at him. 

The familiar, waspish tone of his youngest brother makes Hunter stop, and Crosshair helps him disentangle enough fabric to free his arms. “How many blankets are there?” Hunter asks, voice rough from disuse, throat sore and parched. 

“Too many,” Crosshair admits. “I don’t know where Wrecker keeps finding them. Thirsty?” 

Hunter nods, and Crosshair hauls him up into a sitting position and hands him an open canteen. Hunter takes a sip of the tepid liquid, the taste of added electrolytes bitter on his tongue. He makes a face. “How long was I out?” 

“Two standard days,” Crosshair says. “Really did a number on yourself. Concussion and hypothermia. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Hunter frowns. “The last thing I remember clearly was checking my cables before rappelling down the cliff face. We were going to hike to the rendezvous point.” 

Crosshair scoffs. “That’s it?” 

“I remember my head feeling like it got split open,” Hunter grumbles. 

“Not quite, but not for lack of trying,” Crosshair says. “Lost your helmet and your emergency packs. Tech is still annoyed about losing his favorite med scanner.” 

“Is Tech alright?” Hunter asks, turning to look at where the other cot is empty across the aisle. A faint recollection of panicked words filters into his muddled memories. Please. Stay awake. Help is coming.

“Hypothermia and exposure, but he’s recovering,” Crosshair says with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be resting still; however, he claims he heard a rattle in the ship’s console before the mission, and insisted he had to repair it now. Weak excuse, but Echo let him get away with it.”

Hunter chuckles, the remnants of his concussion protesting with a throb of his skull. 

Crosshair’s expression turns solemn. “We almost didn’t make it in time. When Wrecker and I got into that cave...we thought we were recovering corpses.” 

Another painful throb pulses, this time in Hunter’s throat as he imagines what that must have been like. He doesn’t want to imagine, doesn’t want to think of any two of his brothers lying so still that he thought they were dead. So, he pushes the horrifying thought away, reaching out and grabbing hold of Crosshair’s arm. “But you weren’t.” 

Crosshair scowls at the durasteel floor and gives one, tight nod. 

Tech comes into the hold, Wrecker right behind him. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” Tech says, something akin to warm smile touching his lips. 

Hunter smiles. “Thanks to you, sounds like.” 

Tech waves away the comment, taking a seat on the opposite cot. “How are you feeling?” 

“Smothered with all these blankets,” Hunter says, tossing a good-natured glare in Wrecker’s direction. 

The giant gasps. “You should have seen yourself before the blankets! Have you ever seen blue clones before? ‘Cause it’s something I never want to see again.” 

“I agree,” Crosshair mutters. 

“I assure you; such is an event I hope none of us experience a second time. On either side of the equation,” Tech says firmly.

There is a haunted expression in his brothers’ eyes, a lingering look of hope snuffed out. 

That nearly transparent memory returns. Please. Stay awake. Help is coming.

Hunter thanks the maker Tech was right. 

For all their sakes. 

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[jedi-lothwolf]

Whumpril Day 9: Stranded

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Summary: After Tech crashes a ship he gets stranded and has to figure out what to do until he is found.

    Tech hated flying anything that wasn't the Marauder. This time he was grateful he had been given a single seat fighter to fly. When the final bullet hit the metal and the ship started to crash, he knew he needed to get control of the situation quickly. The man doesn't remember when he hit the planet's surface.

    There was a loud alarm going off when Tech woke up. The smell of smoke filled the air. As fast as he could the clone got out of the cockpit and away from the ship. Adrenaline kept him from feeling anything that would be painful.

    One of the first things he did was check him comm. While it was still on his wrist it was shattered, breaking some of the armor beneath it. Pieces of the armor pieced his skin. Scanning the ship, Tech knew there was no use trying to use the ships communicator.

    Sliding against a nearby tree he let out a sigh. For now he as stranded. Tech realized he was shaking, an affect of the crash. Still he needed to asses the damages done. The ship was totaled. Removing his helmet the clone straightned his goggles.

    He knew his legs were weak, he had felt that walking over to the Willow Tree. Unaware of there was anything wrong with them, he started to evaluate them. As adrenaline started to wear off he could tell his right leg was broken. His left arm, while he had not looked into its condition yet, was also broken.

    While he was sure there were other injuries, Tech leaned his head back onto the tree. He had a concussion which wasn't surprising. Even with his armor the crash was hard on him. He tried to stand but his trembaling body made it difficult. Letting himself just sit against the tree he tried to judge how likely someone was to come to find him.

     It wasn't often the batch was separated. They were all on the same mission, just with different assignments. Ones they knew he was shot down they would insist on finding him. The smoke from the ship would likely give them his location.

    All Tech could do was wait. He was capable of patience, however he was in pain. The known injuries from the crash were not life threatening but there could be something he didn't know about.

    Watching his environment, Tech realized the woods around him were beautiful. Ignoring the crashed ship he smiled softly at the way the light went through the leaves of the willow trees he found himself surrounded by. The grass that hadn't been lightly singed was a pretty shade of light green. Small yellow and purple flowers covered the ground and there was a blackberry bush a few feet away from him. It wasn't to warm or to cold.

    Still the pretty view couldn't quiet the anxiety that came from the crash. Tech knew his brothers would find him but the thought that he wouldn't be found nagged at him. There was no guarantee his internal organs were okay until he was medically tested. He didn't like the helpless feeling that followed being alone and starnged on a planet he didn't get to study.

    The wind blew softly. Sounds of battle were off in the distance. Looking at the sky Tech saw it was starting to fill with color. The sun was setting and soon it would get darker and colder. Nocturnal animals would come out from their resting places as time progressed.

Placing his helmet back on the clone scanned the area. There was nothing close to him that he needed to worry about. He took the data pad that was on his belt and looked to see if it was usable. Turning it on he tried to figure out if there was a town or city he could attempt to go to. To his relief there was a small village showing in his scanner a few miles away. He tried to stand again, only slightly more stable than before.

Finding the village would be his best chance at survival. Tech hoped that someone from the village had been sent out to learn more about the ship that had crashed in their woods. Maybe they would be willing to help him get back to his brothers. The man used trees to allow him to walk. With his broken leg walking a few miles would be difficult task.

After ten minutes he collapsed against a tree again. He breathed heavily as he relieved there was likely something wrong internally that made it harder for him to travel. Tech tried to stand but found himself unable to. Instead he lay against the tree's trunk and looked at his data pad. He got it to transmit a location before it shut off.

Shifting against the tree, he tried to get comfortable. It would be a while before anyone found him. Tech's head ached as he removed his helmet again. He placed it by his side carefully and closed his eyes.

The man wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep or zoned out but when he heard a noise close to him he relieved it was night. It sounded like walking. Voices soon accompanied the sound. Ones the people came into view Tech knew who was approaching. While his vision was blurry he would know his brothers anywhere.

Wrecker was the first to speak. "Tech!" He yelled. The man ran up to him and helped him up. "Are you okay?" Sighing Tech gave him a short explanation of his injuries and what had happened. "So no?"

"Not really." Tech could feel the worry radiating off of his brothers. The world kept spinning as he tried to take a step forward. He felt forward, Wrecker catching him. His body was exhausted.

"I've got you." Wrecker grabbed him gently and carried him.

"I know."

[lifblogs]

Mine and @miss-mouse99's left femur moodboard except it's just Tech suffering from 2x02 "Ruins of War."

[electrikworm]

Test Subjects: Part 3

previous next

Relationships: Crosshair & Echo & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Blood and injury, Drug Usage, Choking, Emetophobia

Summary:

Echo and Tech catch up to Wrecker, but Wrecker isn't about to go down without a fight.

Word count: 2,296

Read on Ao3

Echo contacts Hunter when they manage to corner Wrecker, only to learn Crosshair's in a similar state. He informs Tech, who sighs.

Tech takes a step towards Wrecker, making Wrecker lurch forwards and take a swing at him, only to press himself against the wall again.

It took them far too long to get him here, trapped in a small storage room. Wrecker cleared out the few droids that had been in there, only to promptly start panicking when he managed to get himself stuck in a corner.

Echo and Tech are in front of him, trapping him between the wall and two shelves. He looks like a scared animal, glancing about frantically and swiping at them blindly. He's still clutching his chest and heaving for air. Echo helped bandage Wrecker's burnt hand, but that's been long bleed through, leaving bloody marks on anything he grasps at. If there's that much blood through layers of bandages and Wreckers blacks, Echo's not sure he wants to know what the skin underneath looks like.

What ever the stims have been contaminated with can't be good. The most likely perpetrator is the separatists, like those reports Echo read about contaminated bacta. So far, the symptoms seem to show that the contamination was made to make soldiers attack their allies, so Echo hopes the stim wasn't designed to kill the user.

Echo can't believe something like this could happen. If this is the kind of quality control the GAR has, Echo's worried for the safety of every soldier. Either that, or they've got separatist spies infiltrating the supply chain.

“Any ideas?” Echo asks. They tried stunning Wrecker and all that did was hurt him by the looks of it, even after four direct hits. Echo isn't willing to try that again unless they run out of ideas. There's no guarantee Wrecker won't be permanently harmed by stunning him in his state.

“He's weakened, our best option may be physically subduing him,” Tech answers.

Echo hates to admit it, but Tech's likely right. With his ARC training, Echo's managed to beat Wrecker countless times when sparing. But Wrecker wasn't trying to kill Echo then and he wasn't desperate either.

“What do we do if we get him down?” Echo asks. It's not like they carry binders on them.

“He may be able to recognize us if he is forced to calm down.” Tech approaches Wrecker slowly, blaster in its holster. Hand to hand combat seems to be the way to go here.

In a sudden burst of speed, Tech launches himself forwards, grabbing hold of Wrecker's arm, trying to twist it behind his back. Wrecker is surprised by the attack, but not long enough for Tech to complete his manoeuvrer.

Echo can see the punch Wrecker's hoping to land on Tech a mile away, moving to block it with his arm.

“Trikayc, vod'ika,“ Echo mutters, knowing his next move is going to be dirty. Using the momentum from blocking Wrecker, Echo connects his foot with the knee of Wrecker's injured leg. It buckles under Wrecker's weight as he grunts in pain.

Just as Echo's about to move out of Wrecker's range, he grabs Echo's chest plate, bringing him down onto the floor as well. The air is knocked out of Echo's lungs and his vision briefly turns black as he hits the ground hard. Echo can't see it, but Tech's pained cry and the crashing that follows tells him that Wrecker got his arm out of Tech's grip.

Wrecker ties to run, but after all the trouble it was to get him trapped here, Echo isn't going to let that happen. He sweeps Wrecker's legs out from under him, standing up in the same move.

Dazed from the impact, Wrecker lays flat on his stomach for a moment. Long enough for Echo to kneel on his back, putting a hand on the back of Wrecker's neck to pin him to the ground. Wrecker's arms flail uselessly, unable to reach Echo as he dodges.

But then Wrecker seems to realize that he has other uses for him arms, bringing them to his side and pushing up off the floor. Far too easily, he shakes Echo off, slamming him into the shelf in the process. Echo thinks he must have hit his head, his surroundings swaying as he lays crumpled on the floor.

Tech did something to draw Wrecker's attention, having cornered himself in the process. To stop Tech from being grabbed, Echo throws the closest item he can reach at Wrecker. The object, previously stored on one of the shelves, appears to be metal by the sound it makes hitting Wrecker's helmet. Wrecker snaps to look at Echo.

Not wasting an opportunity, Tech runs at Wrecker, shouldering him in the chest hard enough to make Wrecker's back hit the shelf. Good thing the shelves have been attached to the floor, Echo thinks to himself as he staggers to his feet.

Wrecker grunts at the impact, is however barely slowed by it. He gets his fingers under Tech's shoulder bells, throwing him by them. Tech slides across the floor, coming to a halt near Echo. There's a bloody handprint on his right shoulder, standing out against the white he's painted it.

“This isn't working,” Echo hisses, making Tech glare up at him from his spot on the floor.

“I am acutely aware of that, Echo,” Tech responds as he uses the shelf to get himself standing.

“What the kriff is in those stims?” Echo asks, keeping a close eye on Wrecker. He's moved back into the corner again. ”He just keeps getting back up again. He's not responding to anything. It's like he can't even see us.”

Despite Wrecker looking weakened and moving sluggishly, there's a seemingly limitless well of energy in him. Echo's certain he and Tech will go down long before Wrecker will.

“I might have an idea,” Tech says, “However, I doubt you will like it.”

“What?” Echo asks, sighing. He quickly learned that the plans the Bad Batch, especially Tech, come up with are an entirely different kind of crazy. What's worse, is that Echo's found that quite suits him. He only wishes Fives were still around to take part in the chaos. He would have loved it.

But when Tech says he thinks Echo won't like a plan, Echo knows better than to doubt the statement.

“You will just have to trust me.” Without elaborating further, Tech charges at Wrecker again.

It takes a moment for Echo's brain to catch up what's happening, simply standing there watching as Tech ends up pressed against the wall by Wrecker. It only then dawns on him that he should intervene.

This time he kicks Wrecker in the back of the knee, making him stagger and drop Tech. He turns to Echo, swinging at him with little to no aim.

“Don't distract him,” Tech spits as he gets up. “I have to try something.”

“And just let you get hurt?” Echo hisses back, dodging a weak kick from Wrecker.

“Trust me,” Tech repeats. He goes for Wrecker's arm again, fumbling with his vambrace. Wrecker gives up trying to hit Echo, instead swiftly closing his hand around Tech's neck. Echo moves to sweep at Wrecker's legs again, but Tech shakes his head, even as Echo can hear him gasping for air.

One of Tech's hands is on Wrecker's, trying to give himself some breathing room, the other is still at the clasp of Wrecker's forearm armor.

Echo doesn't want to ignore Tech's wishes, but he hates having to stand here, just watching the fight Tech's losing. Wrecker wouldn't want this, never. But Echo trusts Tech. He still readies his blaster and stands close. He won't let either of his new brothers die here and he sure as hell isn't going to just watch if it gets to that.

Wrecker's heavy breathing and Tech's struggle for air are suddenly broken by Wrecker's vambrace clattering to the floor. Echo watches in confused silence as Tech starts tapping Wrecker's forearm rhythmical. He taps it twice, pauses shortly, then taps it another two times followed by a longer break. Tech repeats this rhythm over and over.

“What ever you're doing isn't working,” Echo shouts, preparing himself to break the two up.

“It will,” Tech wheezes, barely audible with his neck constricted as it is.

And then Wrecker's shoulders tense and he releases Tech, immediately reaching for him with a shaky hand. When his palm connects with Tech's helmet he gingerly feels about the plastoid. Tech is slumped against the shelf, coughing and clutching his neck.

Echo takes a step forwards, wary of what Wrecker's doing. Evidently Wrecker isn't a fan of the sudden movement. Faster than Echo can react, Wreckers hand covers the front of his helmet, gasping it tightly.

“No,” Tech orders, voice cracking, and for some reason, Wrecker listens. With his visor uncovered again, Echo can see that Tech's tapping Wrecker's arms again.

“What are you doing?” Echo asks. He's never seen any of the Batch do anything similar.

Tech gets to his feet, swaying as he moves, still holding Wrecker's arm, still tapping it. Wrecker stands frozen. “Ah, it's something we did as cadets,” Tech says, “Both to identify one another and reassure each other.”

“You risked your life to bet on Wrecker remembering something you did years ago?” Echo asks.

“It worked, did it not? Besides, we still use it occasionally.” Tech sounds awful, neck likely swelling already. “Could you push his helmet up for me? If this is anything like a regular stim, Wrecker will likely be sick at some point.” Tech doesn't stop tapping Wrecker's arm.

Echo nods, moving slowly as he approaches Wrecker. He still flinches, but doesn't try to hit Echo again.

Wrecker's expression is vacant but fearful, eyes and pupils blown wide. His eye movement as well as breathing is frantic. Blood streams from his nose and mouth in addition to the saliva seeming to coat his chin.

Echo pulls a cloth from his belt pouch. He'd used it to clean the joints of his prosthetics earlier, so he cringes at the oil smeared on it. He uses the cleanest corner to wipe Wrecker's face. It's not exactly sanitary, but it feels wrong to leave his vod covered in his own blood like that.

Wrecker cringes away from his touch, squeezing his eyes closed. Echo apologizes quietly.

“Wrecker's heart rate is alarmingly high and he's running very hot. He also seems to have very limited vision and hearing,” Tech observes.

“Is there something we can do to help him?” Echo asks.

“Getting him to the Marauder is likely the best option,” Tech says, slinging Wrecker's arm over his shoulder. “I will try and keep him focused on me, but we should be ready to deal with him trying to attack again.”

Wrecker leans his head against Tech's helmet. “Tech...” he says, voice slurring.

Echo isn't sure if he should take that as a good sign. Carefully, Echo supports Wrecker from the other side. He grips his blaster tightly. With Tech focused on Wrecker and Wrecker barely conscious, defending them from droids will be Echo's job.

Echo cringes as he sees how heavily Wrecker limps as they start moving, knowing very well that he played a significant role in making his little brother's leg injury worse.

“We got him to calm down,” Echo speaks into his comlink once they're out of the warehouse, “How are things with Crosshair?”

Hunter groans, sounding exhausted. “I got him, but you don't even want to know what a hassle it was.”

“Complain to me about it once we're on the ship.” Echo's comment gets a laugh out of Hunter.

Typically, they can't go long without a break, droids attacking them shortly after Echo's talk with Hunter. Tech manages to shoot and keep Wrecker reasonably calm, but with less accuracy than usual.

The nearby battle clearly affects Wrecker, agitation clear in the way he 's clenching his hands and looking about. It gets worse every time they're faced with enemies.

Echo's head seems to do nothing but worsen either, persistent pain building with their agitated movement. He can feel blood running down the back of his neck, soaking into his blacks.

He can ignore that with ease, he's been through far worse and it's not like headaches are anything new to Echo. But when he's hit with a sudden, intense wave of nausea, Echo has to let go of Wrecker and rush to the side. Years of training make him able to remove his helmet before he's sick.

When his stomach calms its self, Echo feels rather bad for leaving Tech to support Wrecker's weight alone. Tech's barely keeping both of them upright.

“Well I certainly didn't expect you to be the one out of the three of us to throw up first,” Tech says. Echo can't tell is it's supposed to be an observation or a joke.

“I hit my head,” Echo states, wiping his mouth with his hand.

Tech doesn't ask any further questions, letting Echo silently take his place next to Wrecker again. Echo grits his teeth as they continue, urging himself to fight against his body screaming for rest. He sighs in relief when he starts recognizing the corridors again, placing them near the way they entered.

Smaller groups of droids are milling about the area, but significantly less than when they first arrived. Their luck has been abysmal, but Echo is prepared to see this as a win.

Once they're finally out of the base, Echo pats Wrecker's arm. “Just a little further, Wreck'ika, then you can rest,” Echo says, reassuring himself just as much as he's trying to do so for his brother.

Wrecker just groans in response.

Mando'a Translation:

Trikayc – sorry Vod'ika – little sibling 'ika - diminutive suffix, can be added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form

[morphofan]

Short Scene, no Promises that it will ever be more.

Short little scene from a fic I had hoped to post for Christmas, but my Writers' Block held firm, and this was all I got. Might be added to one day, might not. In grave danger and near death, Tech begins to hallucinate visits from people from his past. I really liked Romar and was sorry we didn't see him again. Spoilers for ""Ruins Of War," episode 2x2 of The Bad Batch, I guess?

“Ace…?”

Tech’s brow furrowed, crackling the stripe of dried blood trailing from his hairline.

“Ace! Ace, wake up!”

He rolled onto his back and tried to open his eyes. Only one person ever called him Ace.

Through heavily lidded and cold eyes, he detected the presence of another figure, there at the bottom of the pit with him. As his vision cleared, somewhat, he was befuddled to see an older man with white hair and a matching moustache.

“R-Romar?” Tech choked, incredulously.

“At your service!” said Romar brightly with a little bow, chuckling in relief. “You scared me, son… I thought you’d left us for a minute, there.”

The last time Tech had seen Romar was on Serenno, when the squad attempted to acquire a portion of the separatist Count Dooku’s extravagant War Chest. On that mission, Tech had to contend with a fractured femur in addition to fleeing the Empire.  He, Echo, and Omega took shelter at Romar’s domicile, with dubious permission from their grouchy host. However, any hostility or resentment toward the clones was soon smoothed over by Tech’s technical mastery. He had helped Romar to restore a corrupted data archive of pre-war Serennian culture. The self-named ‘survivor’ had been overjoyed and agog.  

Tech shook his head slightly, trying to clear it of the swirly, smokey memories and the ghost of remembered pain in his femur. The cold bit into him, drawing him back to the present, and he tried valiantly to stop his teeth chattering. “Wh-wh-why are you here?

“Same as last time,” Romar said jovially. He knelt beside Tech and reached out to tousle his wet and icy hair. “Thought you might need some help… and I was right!”

“But… but how… are you here?” None of this made sense, even to Tech’s cold-addled yet exceptional brain. “How did you get here? How did you find me?”

“Blah blah blah, too many questions,” Romar said dismissively. “I’m not actually here at all, I’m just a figment of your imagination.” He folded his arms sternly. “Now… what’s all this dank I hear about you giving up? I won’t have it, Ace; you’re stronger than that!”

THE END FOR NOW

[whump-in-the-closet]

hmm sorry generative AI isn't another trademark use of progress it's qualitatively different the tradeoff isn't efficiency it's your independence

[blackseafoam]

Marked Part III

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption crossover AU (with illustrations)

PART 1 - PART 2

Word count: 2002

CW: Stuff you'd normally find in a western story. Swearing, smoking, gun touting, bullet wounds, horse jokes.

“Why do you keep looking over there? The job is as good as done, Arthur.” Javier gestured with his whiskey glass, elbows planted on the bar top.

“Yeah, have a drink. We earned it.” Lenny nodded with his beer.

“Slow down, Summers, remember the last time you came here to ‘wind down’” Javier jabbed, snickering.

“Shut up, Esquella.” Lenny muttered into his glass as he raised it.

Arthur barely noticed the two bickering. His mind elsewhere. There was a nagging feeling those three soldiers weren’t done fighting yet. The energy between those men was almost as if they could talk without speaking. Their expressions clearly showed they were not ready to give up yet. Like an animal in a snare, biting and scratching to its last breath, chewing off its leg to get away if it has to.

He sipped his whiskey but kept one eye dutifully on the front of the Sheriff's office, just in case, even as the sun went down and the warm light of lanterns and candles became the only way to see.

BOOM. Every glass on every table shuddered at once. Lenny choked on his drink.

Dutch’s boys knew the sound of dynamite all too well. Arthur got to his feet and ran outside, closely followed by his inebriated posse.

The side of the sheriff's station was blown wide open, a gaping hole in the wall revealed the inside of the holding cell, and prisoners nowhere to be seen. Arthur cursed, making eye contact with the deputy inside, on the other side of the bars, standing frozen in shock.

“Damn, these guys might be even crazier than us.” Lenny huffed. Javier sighed with frusdration.

“Goddamn. I can’t believe it.” Arthur couldn’t help but sound a little impressed.

Arthur’s attention went to the muddy ground, to the scrambling footprints, four, no, five sets of boots led toward the main road, then disappeared.

“They got on a wagon, come on.” Arthur growled, then turned to get his horse. This bounty was now officially giving them a run for their money.

“Do you think they heard that?” Wrecker laughed as soon as his brothers climbed aboard the wagon. With a flick of the reins they were off as quickly as Murray could pull the full load. Tech, being the designated driver, climbed to the front and took the reins. They headed south out of the town,the opposite direction of their old camp. It almost felt good to get into some action again, almost.

“Where’s Meggy?” Hunter huffed as he took a seat.

“In here!” His seat spoke. Echo huffed a laugh as Hunter stood in shock and opened the crate. The three siblings in the cargo area shared a reunion hug.

“How touching.” Crosshair caught up to the wagon on Havoc, rifle trained to the sky in one hand, reins in the other. The jet black steed’s nostrils flaring with excitement. “Celebrate later, we’re being followed.” He cast a glance over his shoulder.

Three horsemen coming up from behind caught the light of the train station on the edge of town. Barely visible at this distance, but closing fast.

“Did you bring our guns?” Echo began moving the supply crates to barricade the rear of the open wagon.

“In here!” Meggy handed him a saddlebag from the floor.

Echo moved one crate toward the front of the wagon. Hunter motioned Meggy to take cover behind it. “Do not move from this spot until we say so.” He said sternly. Meggy looked at him with eyes wide open, nodding and sitting frozen still. The intensity in his expression taking her aback.

Wrecker loaded his sawn-off shotgun, Echo spun his pistol, and Hunter turned the safety off of his revolver. Tech urged the horse to continue as fast as he dared into the night. He wasn’t familiar with this road but from his vague recollection of maps it was relatively straight.

The first shot rang out, splintering through the back of the driver’s seat. Missing Tech’s hip by inches. Being on the wagon meant their aim would be marginally better than their pursuers at full gallop. Hopefully.

Sure enough, it was their three escorts from earlier that came into view in the moonlight. One of them took another shot, but it went wide. Hunter and Echo returned fire, forcing the bounty hunters to spread out evasively. Meggy watched in horror over the crate, covering her ears and not daring to move a muscle as she crouched in the corner. Her limbs shook with adrenaline.

“We are not going to outrun them, we need a plan!” Tech called over his shoulder.

“No way we’re surrendering!” Wrecker bit out as he rolled into the back to take cover.

“I have an idea.” Tech gritted his teeth and veered the wagon onto the train tracks.

“TE-ECH, what are you do-oing!?” Echo yelled, the seriousness in his tone cut by his jostling voice. The wagon wheels bumped violently as they rolled over the railroad ties.

“Blackwater!” Is all he said in response.

Echo didn’t have time to ask more questions, as more shots rang out. A shot went straight through Hunter’s side, and into the crate protecting Meggy.

Hunter staggered, Echo noticed. “Hunter’s hit!” He announced. Hunter was still firing after he stumbled to his knees, Wrecker stowed his shotgun went to his brother’s aid. His close-range weapon wasn’t much help in the firefight anyway.

“We still need more distance!” Crosshair spat, his expression steeling as he thought. He knew that as soon as their enemies caught up with the wagon, it was all over. And they were getting uncomfortably close by the second.

The massive railroad bridge that was Bard’s Crossing stretched high over the yawning mouth of the Dakota River before it spanned out into Flat Iron Lake. Tech was leading them straight for it, an absolute madman, but probably one of the only people who could pull it off. Crosshair couldn’t help but smirk at his brother, the lunacy of the situation.

In that moment, Crosshair realized what he needed to do. He slowed Havoc to a canter. The stallion grunted, wanting to stay with his herd.

“Crosshair, what are you doing?!” Wrecker called out, crouched over Hunter, trying to staunch the hole in his side.

“Buying time.” Crosshair said, releasing the reins to cock his rifle. Using his seat to further slow his horse.

“This isn’t part of the plan!” Tech started to slow Murray.

“Too bad, it is now. GO! I’ll meet you in Blackwater.”

Tech nodded reluctantly, and urged Marauder back up to speed.

“This is not good, we shouldn’t split up!” Echo lowered his pistol, watching Crosshair and Havoc disappear into the darkness. “Running off to be the hero never works Crosshair!” He futilely called after his brother.

After the bridge, Tech steered the wagon back onto the road uncomfortably close to an oncoming train, thankfully still going slow as it left the nearby station. He cast an apologetic wave at the conductor who was visibly angry. They pulled the wagon over as soon as possible, Tech held up the driver’s lantern to check on Hunter. “How bad?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“A little worse than a graze, but I don’t think it hit anything important.” Wrecker reported.

“I’d… beg to differ, Wrecker. Feels pretty important.” Hunter huffed a small laugh which became a groan.

Echo rummaged through the kitchen crate for a whiskey bottle. Handing it to Hunter, who took a long swig before returning it. His face scrunching in anticipation before Echo splashed the stinging liquid onto the wound.

Tech finished by cleaning and staunching the wound with fabric from their triage kit, leftover from the war. They hadn’t had much use of it since then. After the train went by they were left in hanging silence. The tension began to abate, though worry about Crosshair still hung in the air. Wrecker looked out toward the bridge as if he could see his brother through the darkness if he tried hard enough.

Echo turned toward Meggy, still cowering in the corner of the wagon. Still doing exactly as Hunter instructed, staying put. Her face was lined with horror and her eyes were wet, as she hugged her still shaking legs.

“Hey, hey Meggy. We’re okay.” Echo went to her side. She glanced at him, then looked back toward Hunter and Tech. “Here, uh, come sit up here.” He took her elbow. The poor girl looked shell-shocked as if she were the one who’d been through a war. She took his offer to get up off the floor and sit on a crate with him, still shivering.

Crosshair halted Havoc, still on the bridge. He could already hear the hoofbeats of his pursuers pounding on the wooden struts. He deftly uncaulked his rifle and stowed it in the saddle as he slid off. Walking several paces toward the enemy, he raised his hands toward the stars above.

The gang got on their way again. “The closer we are to Blackwater, the safer we’ll be.” Tech assured, steering Murray to ford a shallow creek, letting the loyal beast take a long drink of water before continuing on.

“Why’s that?” Hunter croaked, taking another swig of whisky while trying to get comfortable against a sideways barrel close to Meggy’s seat.

“A few weeks ago the Van der Linde gang were here, and… left quite the mess.” Tech snapped the reins and Murray continued at a walk. “The gang robbed the Blackwater ferry. $150,000, according to the paper.” He added.

Wrecker whistled in amazement. “That’s a lot of cash…”

“It was a bloody affair, the Pinkertons got involved.”

“We should probably stay far enough away from the town if there are feds about, not to mention in case Meg–, I mean our wanted posters have made it out here.” Echo pointed out, casting a glance at Meggy beside him, still as a statue with Echo’s jacket draped over her shoulders. Hunter looking at her with concern, despite being the only one bleeding.

“Meggy, are you okay?” Hunter put the bottle to the side and reached out to her, wincing as the motion tugged painfully.

“She’s not hurt...” Echo pondered. “I think she’s scared, but she hasn’t said anything.”

“I’m okay.” Meggy nodded, and a tear ran down her face. She wiped it quickly, hoping no one saw.

Her brothers continued to console her as the wagon continued into the dark.

Arthur, Javier and Lenny rode up on the lone dark-clad outlaw with guns drawn.

“You’re coming with us.” Lenny spat, leveling his pistol.

“I would like to come to an arrangement.” Crosshair called out. “I have… a proposition.”

Lenny and Javier looked at Arthur, who raised his chin in interest. “Let’s talk somewhere we aren’t about to get crushed by a train.” He responded after a beat of consideration. Crosshair spun around and saw the light of an engine appearing on the other end of the bridge, when he turned back around Dutch’s boys were trotting back to solid ground. Crosshair mounted up and followed.

“You sure this is a good idea, Morgan?” Javier chided.

“Let’s hear him out. It’s our only option now.” Arthur cast a glance over his shoulder in the direction of Blackwater.

Between two prairie hills just outside Blackwater, the Bad Batch gang had settled in for the night, huddled against the wagon with a small campfire. Coyotes yapped nearby, and the crickets added to the chorus with their own nighttime song. Meggy laid on her bedroll between Hunter and Wrecker. Tech took the first watch after he untacked Marauder and brushed him. All five of them were silent with worry since the wagon wheels stopped. Every little sound had Tech looking up from what he was doing, hoping it was Crosshair catching up with them. Wrecker took the next watch, then Echo. Meggy and Hunter were allowed to sleep off the ordeal. The night slid by with no sign of their absent brother.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @omegafett99 @griffedeloup @happydragon @fionas-frenzy @dizzy-9906 @coruscanti-travelguide

Author's note:

"It didn't hit nothin' important!!" That scene from the Ballad of Buster Scruggs kept playing in my head while I wrote this. I might add some more illustrations to this later, cuz I still have some ideas, but for now I just wanted to get this OUT THERE. I've completed a rough outline of the whole story at this point, and I'm so excited for the stuff at the climax. I have no idea how many chapters this will be but I'm trying to keep each one around 1.5 - 3k words.

I am so grateful for the positive feedback on the first two chapters thank y’all so much! I am certainly not the most experienced writer, and have been kind of hard on myself with this chapter, but had to keep remembering that this is all just for fun and doesn’t have to be perfect.

[the-bi-space-ace]

Refusal

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Word Count: 1,695

Summary: Echo refused to scream. He's been here for hours, days maybe, but time didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that the batch was coming. They would always come.

--

Sooooo I had this idea about the batch swooping in when Echo has been held captive and I couldn't get it out of my head so here ya go, a section of a fic I may very well one day write about how far the batch will go to protect one of their own.

Warnings: blood, restraints, injury, violence.

Echo refused to scream. 

That’s how he ended up here.

The man who had him chained to the floor, knees forced under him, neck aching heavy with the weight of the restraint. His wrist had long since bled and scabbed and bled again, scomp held down at a bent angel, broken and spinning without his control. He reeled back, metal over his knuckles that he planned to strike at Echo once again, trying to force him into submission. 

Echo refused to scream. 

What drowned out his ears instead was alarms blazing overhead. Red lights blinked furiously. With a sneer his captor spit down at him. 

“Are those your pets?”

Echo spit the blood off of his lips. It splattered on the floor. “They aren’t pets.” He spit it out with as much vitriol as his raw throat would allow. The man above him swiveled, listening to the unmistakable sound of droids taking blaster fire, hitting the ground in a heap of wire and metal. Echo forced his head up, bloodshot eyes burning. “We’re a package deal, you see. A team. A squad. I save them. They save me. It’s kind of our thing.” Indistinct yelling rose from the nearby hallways. They were close, they were coming. Echo smiled through teeth he swore were chipped and lips so cracked it stung. “So, no, they aren’t pets, as you so kindly keep referring to them. But they are mine.” The door to the room he was being held in shook as something heavy was thrown against it. His captor flinched away from it while Echo’s body relaxed. Another slam against it and it bent. 

Wrecker. 

Something wedged its way between the doors, metal groaned as it slid apart, enough to get a hand inside. That hand was joined by another and the door was pried, inch by agonizing inch, apart. Eventually someone got impatient, cursing loudly, and big brawler hands gripped each edge. Metal bent backwards, rattling in complaint. 

“And they hate you for what you’ve done.” It bit from between Echo’s lips just as the door was pried open, metal screaming while Wrecker yelled. Even with the helmet on Echo sensed the fire, the way he plunged forward. His captor threw a punch but Wrecker caught it, bending his wrist back so thoroughly Echo swore something snapped. 

All the energy in his body drained, plummeting to the floor. He would’ve hit it if it hadn’t been for Tech’s - he knew it was Tech - hands gripping his chin and pulling him up, scanning to assess his injuries. Crosshair had moved to crouch directly next to him, handing off a med kit to Tech that was flung open quicker than his mind could keep up with.

Around him things blurred. They were there. Everything was fine now. He let his head fall forward again, caught this time on the warm toughness of armor plating. Someone’s shoulder was pressed against his forehead. Hands searched around his bound wrist for a release, gently but appraising, directness in the pressure. 

Tech. 

There was a deliberate squeeze to his arm then the hand moved to grab the chain holding him to the ground, lifting it to alleviate some pressure on his neck. Echo couldn’t help it, he sighed in relief, sinking further into the feeling of armor. Armor. Clone. Protection. Safe safe safe safe. He could feel Tech shuffle around to the back of him now, giving up on the wrist restraint to try and free his legs. Something clanked against metal behind him but he couldn’t turn to watch what was happening. Tech was muttering something under his breath, something acute, exact, but meant to comfort. 

Well, it comforted Echo at least. 

He focused instead on the hand now sweeping over his naked back. The firepuncher laid on the ground in front of him, abandoned on the floor in a way Echo had never witnessed before. Instead both hands were occupied, trying to both hold him up and together at the same time. Echo didn’t need that. He was fine. It took more than this to break him after everything he went through. 

“I’m fine.” Echo swore he said it outloud, the hand at his back even stuttered in its path, but he was ignored. Instead the body - Crosshair’s - shuffled closer to him, covering him in a protective bubble while they worked to free him. Something behind him lit, a laser-torch flame, and the sound of cutting metal pierced his ears. Echo squeezed his eyes shut, remembering that noise, hating that noise, but he didn’t struggle. No, it was Tech, and this was Crosshair and they’d never hurt him. Never never never never. 

A sickening crack broke through the flame and Echo, exhausted, tried to lift his head. He couldn’t get far, instead turning so his sweaty forehead pressed into the space between helmet and shoulder, getting eyes on what was happening in the rest of the room. 

“What makes you think you can take one of my own from me?” Hunter bit out. He was in the face of that man while Wrecker held his arms. His nose was bleeding now. Had Hunter hit him? Echo couldn’t remember now. Was that the sound? Hunter’s hand gripped his face, pulling him up to look into the visor of the helmet.  

“Hunter-” Echo began but he was cut off when Hunter’s fist hit him again. No, stop! Echo’s mind reeled, screamed, spiraled. He couldn’t move, not until Tech got the binds off, but Hunter had to stop. This would ruin everything. He tried to squirm but Crosshair’s grip held him tight, tight while lasers cut into the binds at his ankles. Hunter gripped the front of his shirt between shaking fingers, angry and ready to pull apart the floorboards if he had to. Rip through walls, burn the facility-

“You picked the wrong clones to fuck with-” 

“Stop!” Echo’s voice croaked between them and Hunter’s pulled back fist waited, paused in its path. This was his chance. He felt the binds on his ankles snap, Tech freeing him with a flick of a wrist. “Enough.” His voice was like a bomb, piercing in its finality.

From there he could hear Hunter’s unhappy sigh. “I am the sergeant here-”

“And I’m your second.” Echo coughed, blood splattering down the front of Crosshair’s chest plate. “Listen to me.” For what it was worth Hunter did let him go. Even Wrecker loosened his grip, allowing him to kneel on the ground instead of hanging suspended in the air. 

Hunter turned, flinging his arm out. “Echo, look what he did to you!” What a sight he must be. How long had it been? Hours? Days? He wasn’t sure anymore. Wasn’t sure he knew how to get up and walk out of here. 

“He knows where they are.” It was like the world stopped, each of them pausing. Even Tech stopped cutting away at the bind on his neck, pausing briefly before continuing. “That’s why I let him feel like he won for so long. We need what’s in his head.” Disgruntled was as nice a way as Echo could put how Hunter behaved after that, waving his hand so Wrecker stepped back from the man now panting on the ground. 

Instead Hunter approached the three of them on the ground. His hand searched around Echo’s headpiece, partially in comfort but mainly to find if it had been tampered with, swiping to check for bloodied fingers. Nothing had been inserted, couldn’t have been, but Hunter checked regardless. Knew it made Echo’s heart beat calmer to know. 

“Why’re you calling them off now? Feeling remorse already?” The voice he’d grown to know was smaller now, more fearful. When he had Echo tied down he had a boisterous roar of a voice, taunting and cruel. Now he was nothing but fear.

“I’m not doing it for you.” Echo said as the restraint around his neck popped off. A groan cut through his throat as Tech removed it, laying it on the ground next to the firepuncher. “You have more to answer for than this.” Now that they’d gotten into a good rhythm Tech was able to remove the wrist and scomp restraint without much difficulty. Maneuvering him around so Tech could get to it without lasering skin was difficult but he managed to do it without burns. 

Hunter watched carefully as Echo was able to straighten, back aching with the new motion. “Wrecker, help Echo.” Hunter instructed before practically stomping off to grip his captor by the back of his hair, ripping his head upwards to look Hunter in the helmet. “We’re taking you to the Republic. Maybe the Jedi will know what to do now.” He let his head fall back down again but Tech was already snapping stun cuffs on him and lifting him from the ground, keeping a close eye on his movements while Hunter pulled him along by the cuffs. 

“They will. They’ll know.” Echo assured, although he wasn’t sure what he was assuring them of. Wrecker had already gotten his arms under Echo’s body, lifting him so he could curl against Wrecker’s chest. Warmth. Safety. Wrecker. “General Kenobi, General Windu. They’ll know what to do.” The beep alerted him to another scan. 

This time Tech tsked. “We have to get him to a medical facility.” 

Echo’s bleary eyes watched them move around him, Wrecker holding him close, body shaking. Was he okay? Had something happened? They had to be okay. 

Crosshair had collected his firepuncher already, now standing facing that man. That horrible, terrible man. His shoulder shook, seething anger pulsing through him, heat radiating from his body wound so tight he could snap. He stepped close enough that barely a centimeter was between them.

“If Echo dies there will be nothing standing between you and me. Understood?” Crosshair’s threat lay low in his chest. A promise. A vow that if he saw Echo’s blood on that man’s hands then it was over. Nothing would save him. Not even the long arm of the Republic. Echo vowed to stay alive just to keep it from happening. 

Crosshair’s word was as good as an oath. 

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (part 4)

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: T | Words: 2436

<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>

KANDRIA

“I will answer your questions to the best of my capabilities,” Tech says, a strength in his voice that wasn’t there before. 

You don’t have to worry about me, kid, us clones are more resilient than we look, Jaunt had told her while he lay on the cobblestone street, a smile on his lips even as blood trickled from one side and Kandria frantically tried to wipe it away with her sleeve. 

Tech continues, “However, I am more valuable than you realize. Information can be misconstrued and outdated; therefore, I can offer you something greater in exchange for your assistance making contact with my brothers.” 

Kandria’s heart thuds violently in her chest, and blood throbs in her ears. She tries to keep her breathing steady, her feet firmly planted, but she is trembling.

Uncle Garo walks forward and shoves Kandria roughly aside; however, she is ready for the impact, moving with the force of the push to sidestep and keep her balance. She turns and just catches Tech’s eyes shift to her briefly, before focusing on her uncle. 

“You are in no position to bargain with me, clone,” Uncle Garo sneers. He pulls his blaster from his holster. “I could shoot you right now and be done with you.” 

Kandria bites the inside of her cheek to keep from protesting. Something in Tech’s voice tells her that she needs to trust that he knows what he’s doing, that he understood her whispered warning. She prays to Maker he does. 

“You are correct,” Tech tells Uncle Garo. “You could shoot me; however, that would not be in your best interest. I can build you equipment.” 

Uncle Garo lowers the blaster. “What kind of equipment?” 

“With the proper materials, I could construct almost anything you might be in need of,” Tech tells him. “I am an engineer by design, and my mental capacities have been enhanced. I have memorized hundreds of schematics in my lifetime.” 

The fist around Kandria’s lungs loosens when Uncle Garo reholsters his blaster. “Is that so?” 

“But I will need your word that I can make contact with my brothers.”  

“We do not have a transmitter,” Uncle Garo tells Tech. 

Tech nods. “I thought as much. I will build that as well. I will be sure that it has the capability of secure encryption.” 

Uncle Garo is silent, and Kandria knows he is trying to decide if he should take Tech at his word or not. Finally, he nods before turning sharply and leaving the storeroom. 

It is as close to an agreement as Tech will get, although Uncle Garo will never keep his word on such a thing. But Tech has bought himself time, plenty of time, to heal. Kandria can help him escape later. She will not think about the consequences. The consequences don’t matter. She can save him. She will save him.

Kandria releases a shaky breath of frail relief. 

TECH

After proving his usefulness, Garo allowed the girl to use the correct dosages of medications. It has made him sleep for long hours, surfacing consciousness only long enough to drink water and the nearly flavorless but warm broth he is offered before sinking again into dark, dreamless depths. 

This time, when he comes to, he finds his mind more alert than it has been since he made the decision to sever the connection between the railcars. Although he thinks he might be able to manage on his own, the girl insists on helping him sit up, and offers him the mug of broth to hold in his own hands. She then sits on the edge of the cot. 

“Can you really do all the things you told Uncle Garo?” she asks him.

“I can,” Tech tells her. 

Kandria tips her head. “And you’re an enhanced clone?”

“That is also true.” 

“Are there other enhanced clones?” 

The girl seems genuinely curious, pale eyes watching him intently. He is not accustomed to natborns being particularly interested in clones or their development outside of vague fascination. Then again, Clone Force 99 rarely worked directly with civilians for any substantial length of time to allow such questions to appear organically. Perhaps this is a common line of conversation.

“Few survived,” Tech tells her. “My brothers and sister are enhanced in different ways.” 

“What kind of ways?” 

He did not anticipate the subject of his siblings creating a sharp twist of emotional discomfort under his broken ribs. While he has every intention of finding them again and relocating Kandria to Pabu, there are variables outside of his control. Clone Force 99’s perfect record has ended spectacularly, starting with the loss of Crosshair to the Empire. Failure is as likely as success. 

He may find his family again. 

He may not. 

He may save Kandria from the man she calls uncle. 

He may not. 

He may die, either from an unforeseen complication of his injuries, or a blaster bolt between his eyes if Garo should have a change of heart. 

Do you ever cry, Tech? Omega asked him in another lifetime. 

“Hunter has heightened senses and is able to detect electromagnetic fields. This makes his sense of direction far more accurate than any map you might have,” Tech says, answering Kandria rather than Omega. “Crosshair…” he hesitates a moment before pressing on, “Crosshair’s mutation is that his vision and marksmanship capabilities have been enhanced. I have yet to witness a shot he does not have the ability to make. Wrecker possesses superhuman strength and is larger than the average clone. We once watched him wrestle a young rancor until he wore the creature out, as an example.” 

The girl laughs. It in no way sounds like Omega, but it is painfully reminiscent. The emotion in his chest twists again, and were it made of flesh, it would surely be bleeding. 

“He fought a rancor?” Kandria asks incredulously, still smiling, oblivious to Tech’s invisible wounds. 

Tech blinks. “A young one,” he reiterates. 

“Why?” 

“That,” Tech says, “is a long and complicated story.”

“We have time,” Kandria tells him with a grin. 

And Tech cannot argue with that logic. 

KANDRIA

Her father used to tell her stories about when he was a ship medic, traveling the galaxy. Granted, most of his stories centered around an injury or illness of some kind, but Kandria didn’t mind. You’d be surprised how much trouble a crew can get into, he’d tell her. Some of the stories were secondhand from his patients, excuses and explanations for the ailments they’d bring to the med bay. Lies, most of them. I felt like a detective trying to root out the truth in all the malarkey. And it was funny that he said that, because Kandria was almost positive that he embellished his own stories liberally, even if it was just to make her smile or laugh. 

Tech does not tell stories like her father did, and she does not have to worry about any sort of malarkey. 

“...we were criminally underpaid for the job,” Tech tells her as he finishes his account of the rancor incident. 

Kandria shrugs one shoulder. “But at least you got a good story out of it. My dad always said that as long as you have a story to tell or a lesson you learned, no experience is wasted.” 

“Hmmm.” Tech regards her thoughtfully for a moment. “Your father…where is he?” 

If Kandria has learned one thing about Tech in the little time she’s known him, he is well spoken but blunt. Painfully honest; however, it is a fair question. And she brought her father up in the first place. “He died,” she says, keeping her voice as even as she can. The admission still feels as fresh as the day she told Jaunt the news. “During one of the Separatist attacks on my home planet.” 

There had been chatter about Separatists in the area; but there was always chatter. After all, they were close to a major trade route and were under Republic protection. And yet, her father had told her to stay home that day, to keep the door locked. It had made her so angry, and like a small child, she’d pouted and didn’t tell him goodbye. She can still feel the warmth of his palm on top of her head as he told her he loved her, that he’d come straight home after his shift. I love you, sweetheart. I won’t get caught up in conversation with Mister Roolek today, I promise. She hadn’t wanted his promise. She’d wanted her way. And it had cost her any final happy memory with him. 

“Is that when you came to be with your uncle?” Tech asks. 

Kandria shakes her head. That is a part of her history she is not willing to tell. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Are you finished with your broth?” she asks, shifting the subject away from raw, stinging memories.

“Yes, thank you,” he says, and lets her take it from his hands. 

Kandria turns to leave. 

“I apologize if my questions were insensitive,” Tech says behind her, briefly stopping her retreat. “I did not mean to cause you any sort of emotional discomfort.” 

And she knows he means it, which somehow makes her emotional discomfort worse and better in the same aching heartbeat. No one has cared about her for a long time. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to have the real thing and not just threadbare memories of those now out of reach. 

“I’m fine,” she tells him, and leaves the room before she starts to cry. 

<<>><<>>

“You look a little young to work here, kid.” 

Kandria startles and looks up from her data pad to find a clone staring down at her from the other side of the counter. Flustered, she begins rambling, “Oh. I don’t. I’m just sitting here reading while I wait for my dad. He’s finishing his rounds.” 

“Ah, I see,” the clone says. He takes off his helmet. “So, your dad’s a doctor? Would his name happen to be Doctor Terrand?” 

Kandria nods. 

“Fantastic, just the man I wanted to see. I have a delivery of medications for him.” 

“Oh.” Kandria didn’t know that soldiers made deliveries. 

The clone looks past her at the door leading to the main ward. “You said he’s just finishing his rounds?” 

“Yes, sir. But I can go get him if you’d like.” 

“I’d appreciate it, kid,” the trooper says with a grin. “And you can just call me Jaunt. ‘Sir’ makes me sound more important than I am.”

Kandria smiles politely as she slips down from her chair. “I’ll go find my dad,” she tells him, hugging her data pad to her chest, before she whirls around and flees the front office for the sanctuary of the clinic.

One of the night nurses catches her the moment she gets through the door. “You know better than to run,” she scolds. 

“There’s a clone trooper here with a delivery for my dad,” Kandria tells her. 

The nurse frowns. “No excuses. Walk.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kandria sighs. 

Her father’s clinic is small, specializing in long-term elder and end of life care. As Kandria walks past open doors, some of the patients call out greetings, and she makes sure to smile and wave back. As she suspects, her father is in Mister Roolek’s room. She stands in the doorway, patiently waiting for a lull in the animated conversation between her father and the Rodian. 

Mister Roolek’s dark eyes fall on her almost immediately. “Little Star! Apologies, I have kept your father longer than I should.” 

“It’s okay,” Kandria says, stepping into the room. 

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” her father asks. 

“There is a trooper here that says he has a delivery for you,” Kandria says. 

“Oh,” her father says, turning back to Mister Roolek, “You’ll have to excuse me, Siero.”

“Of course, of course,” Mister Roolek says, waving one long fingered hand. “Go do your work, Doctor. Our conversation will keep until tomorrow.” 

As her father passes by, he pats Kandria’s head. “Thanks, kiddo.” 

Kandria moves to follow after him, but is stopped short by Mister Roolek’s voice. “How’s your new book, Little Star?” 

Kandria turns back and goes to Mister Roolek’s bed, holding up her data pad. “Very good. I’ve almost finished it,” she tells him. “Then I can read it out loud to you if you’d like.”

“I would like that very much,” he says. “You are an excellent narrator.” 

Kandria beams. “Thank you.” 

“You know that your mother was one of my students when I was a teacher?” 

Kandria does know this, has heard it a hundred times; however, as she always does, she shakes her head, letting Mister Roolek tell the story again for what he thinks is the first time. 

“Such a bright student, your mother. Kind and diligent. You are just like her when she was your age.”

“Thank you,” Kandria says. 

Mister Roolek sighs, sinking back into his pillows. “Taken too soon, your mother.”

Kandria nods. While she does not have any of her own memories of her mother, she feels the loss deeply through the voices of those who knew her. It feels strange to miss something she doesn’t remember, but it is there nonetheless, a tender, hollow emptiness. 

“Go catch up with your father, Little Star,” Mister Roolek tells her. 

“I’ll come read to you tomorrow,” Kandria says. “I think I’ll finish the book tonight.” 

He smiles at her. “I look forward to it then.” 

Kandria returns to the lobby just as the trooper is putting his helmet back on. “See ya around, kid,” he says with a nod. 

Her father turns to her. “I’ll go lock this up, then we’ll be ready to go.” 

“Okay, Dad,” Kandria says, watching the clone trooper leave. 

She wonders if she’ll ever see Jaunt again…or how she’d even know since he looks the same as all the others. 

TECH

Kandria takes the distraction of her presence with her, leaving Tech’s hyperactive mind entirely to its own devices. He should be thinking about how to escape, how to bring Kandria with him. He should be thinking of his own survival; however, melancholy claims his thoughts instead. 

Tech misses his data pad. He misses his goggles. He misses the structure of the war, the certainty of success, and the defying of failure. He misses his squad. He misses Hunter’s quiet leadership and Wrecker’s unconventional brilliance. He misses Echo’s hard won wisdom and Omega’s determined optimism. He misses Crosshair and hopes that they still search for him. 

Do you ever cry, Tech? 

And he thinks he might. 

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[jedi-lothwolf]

Familiar chapter one

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Summary: Pabu was eerily familiar to CX-2. Clone Force 99 felt like someone to him. Why they mattered, he couldn't remember.

Notes: Spoilers for the episode Point of No Return

Chapter two: Research of the Past (coming soon)

  Why was Pabu so, familiar? That was the only question going through CX-2's head. It felt like he should care about it and its people; like somewhere deep down, he didn't want to be there to hurt someone.

    Still, he was there to find the target. A girl named Omega was an m-count target, so he had to take her to Tantus. It shouldn't feel so wrong. Just like fighting Ct-9904 shouldn't have felt like a betrayal to himself.

    Seeing the pirate was already so eerily familiar. Being in her presence made him smile and he felt warm. Her sweet but sassy voice, her beautiful hair, they seemed like they meant something to him. Maybe they had.

    CX-2' stood on the wall that separated lower and upper Pabu. There, near the water, was the Havoc Marauder. It was the ship that the group of rogue clones flew and from the information that the man had, lived out of. It was a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle. Ct-9902 had made the changes to the ship.

    Maybe there was a reason CX-2 hesitated to shoot the ship. By the ramp, Ct-9903 stood. The man had been named Wrecker, which fit him well. There was something unsettling about the thought of him blowing up, like he had personal feelings about. Maybe that was why he shot the ship's wing where he did.

    It was easy to see and it wasn't in his blind spot. Seeing him notice the explosive and grab the power droid and jump away from his home, made blowing the ship up slightly easier. It shouldn't have.

    Why was he so reluctant to hurt them? Clone Force 99 were traitors. The Bad Batch had killed imperial soldiers and officers, they had destroyed the empires properly. Killing them, would be good for the galaxy, yet CX-2 hesitated to do so.

    So he walked away. Finding Omega was his mission. Destroying the Marauder was to ensure they stayed on the planet. Making the call to be ready to burn the island and its people to the ground, was not one he had wanted to make.

    There was a place near the top of the mountain. Maybe, CX-2 thought, I should go up there. Maybe the girl would be there.

    The leaves of the tree that stood on the platform swayed. It was a beautiful and proud Weeping Maya Tree. Near the top of the mountain was a communal space. Walking inside, the man looked around for the target. The room was filled with artifacts.

    A jade tree sat on a shelf that almost made him smile. Shaking it off, his eyes scanned the shelves and landed on a stuffed Tooka doll and a pair of shattered goggles.

    CX-2 took a step back. Then he walked towards the shelf. With much kinder hands than he had been treated with, he picked up the goggles and stared at them. The weight of the glasses in his hands was uncomfortably familiar.

    Startled, he laid them back down. Looking at the doll, CX-2's breath started to catch and tears welled in his eyes. The name of the Tooka was on the top of his tongue and he knew it shouldn't be.

    When he woke up, Hemlock had told him who he was didn't matter. He had said that he had been an imperial soldier who had amnesia from his last mission. When he asked what his name was, he was told it was CX-2. Something always felt wrong about that.

    Removing his helmet, CX-2 placed it beside the googles. Picking up the stuffed toy, he pulled it closer to him. "L-" her name was the only thing he could think about. With his mission long forgotten, he tried to piece the rest of the tooka's name together.

    "Lula?"

    The room was silent. The lighting was warmer than he had remembered and all the noise of the outside had disappeared. Without the helmet, everything was blurry. However it felt like CX-2 could see clearer than he had remembered.

    The reason he hated the thought of hurting Clone Force 99, the reason he knew Lula's name, the reason the pira- liberator of ancient wonders was important to him; he had known them. The people had been something to him at some point in his life. But who were they?

    CX-2 needed to know. Still holding Lula, he stood there overwhelmed by his discovery. As his breathing continued to speed up, he sat on the floor. Clutching the doll he tried to think. Where did he go from here?

    The man could go back to the empire and complete him mission or he could lie and say that he had made a mistake, leave, and escape come his next assignment. Staying and fighting for the empire meant he would likely never get his answers. However, staying with them also meant he would survive.

    Standing, the man set Lula down next to the googles. Clearing the tears from his face, he placed him helmet back on his head and reached from his comm. Then he let his hand fall back to his side. If someone had already found her and he told them she wasn't on the island, he'd be killed for treason.

    Finding Omega became his next objective. While that may have already been his mission, now he only intended to keep her safe. Leaving the building, CX-2 sighed. In truth he was scared. He knew what Hemlock could and would do to him if he was caught.

    But he needed to know who he was. Learning who these people were to him meant betraying what he knew. Committing an act of treason didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

    Walking though the streets of Pabu, he ordered the flame throwers to be put down. There was no need just yet to burn down the island.

    Almost twenty minutes later, CX-2 found the girl. She stood in the middle of the street, ready to give herself up for the safety of the people. Before she got a chance to give herself away, the clone grabbed her and pulled her away from the street. "Shhhh."

    Confused Omega was silent.

    "You are an adolescent. I am going to inform the others that I was mistaken in identifying you. Stay hidden."

    "What?" Was all Omega could think of saying.

    "You are a child, I will not subject you to the experiments of Tantiss. You will be safe here once I'm through with my tasks."

    Taking the alley, Omega asked "where is it?"

    "What?"

    "Tantiss. I need to know."

    "Where Tantiss is, is of no concern to you. I need you to stay hidden."

    Ignoring him, Omega asked again. "I'll walk into the street and give myself up right now. If you really want to keep me safe, you'll tell me."

    "One day you will know. Currently, it is safer this way. Accept the opportunity that it being given to you. It is not the time."

    "Then when is?"

    "When you have a plan."

    "I have a plan! I-"

    "Is it a good one?"

    Omega was silent. "Fine."

    "Find a place to hide."

    The girl nodded. While she was sceptical of the sleeper agent's intentions, at least Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair wouldn't be so worried.

    Walking away, CX-2 reached for his comm. "I had mistaken a similar looking civilian for the girl. The target is not here." He sighed. "Gather your men and be ready to leave."

    "Yes sir."

    Hoping this risk would pay off, the man pondered what answers The Bad Batch could have for him. Soon, he would have his answer. Maybe while he waited for his next mission, he should do most digging into who these people really are.

[electrikworm]

Hold on Tight

Relationships: Hunter & Wrecker, Crosshair & Wrecker, Omega & Wrecker, Echo & Wrecker, Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Crying, Mention of what happened on Eriadu, Chronic Pain

Summary:

Wrecker's very physical affectionate, which he loves to show by hugging his siblings. Here are five instances where he does just that.

Written for the @wrecker-week Bingo prompt "Hugs"

Word count: 2,431

Read on Ao3

Work Text:

Hunter stares at Wrecker as his vod'ika stands towards the back of the ship, arms awkwardly wrapped around himself. He's fighting a losing battle against the rising tears, Hunter can smell that from across the Marauder, can hear Wrecker's attempts to silence it.

It's far from the first time Wrecker's cried since Eriadu. Hunter's senses make sure he's aware of every time his brother does so. He's left Wrecker to it every time, not wanting to intrude.

But something feels different this time. Hunter heard Wrecker start to fight back tears about ten minutes ago. After the day they've had, turning up with nothing but dead ends, Hunter had expected it. But about two minutes ago, Hunter started watching his brother. Wrecker keeps adjusting the way his arm's are crossed over his chest. Almost like he's trying to hug himself.

That's when Hunter makes a realisation, something suddenly clicking in his brain. The Sargent had been so caught up in how he doesn't deserve being comforted by his brother for failing the squad on Eriadu, that he'd completely forgotten to consider that Wrecker may have been offering to hug Hunter because he needed one too.

Wrecker stopped offering after Hunter rejected him the third time and it had been weeks since then. Hunter should have noticed.

“Wrecker?” Hunter calls across the ship.

Wrecker responds by hastily trying to wipe his face. “Need something sarge?” he responds, voice tight. Hunter doesn't know what to say, so he just nods as he closes the distance between him and his vod. “Hunter?” Wrecker asks, voice distorted by the remainder of tears as well as concern.

Hunter just wraps his arms around Wrecker, squeezing him tightly. It takes a second for Wrecker to respond, to return the embrace. Wrecker's body trembles as he holds Hunter, tears flowing freely.

“I'm sorry,” Hunter mutters, his own resolve crumbling not long after Wrecker's. He muffles his own sobs against his brother's shoulder. Hunter doesn't know if he's apologizing for Tech's death, Omega's abduction or the fact his own guilt made him leave Wrecker to suffer on his own. But Hunter just keeps apologising over and over, not really sure what else he even could do.

-

According to Tech, it'll take them another twenty minutes at least to arrive at the battlefield they're joining. Wrecker's feeling more than a little jittery. They've been cooped up in the Marauder for hours and Wrecker's bored. It's been far too silent for far too long and it's driving the demolitions expert a bit crazy.

But, a solution for that soon arises when Crosshair steps out of the cockpit, propping his Firepuncher up against the wall as he adjusts the strap on his breastplate. A grin spreads on Wrecker's face as he stands up, crossing the ship as quickly and quietly as he can. As soon as Crosshair's in range, Wrecker grabs him, pulling him into a tight hug. Even in armor, Wrecker easily lifts his brother off the ground as he squishes him against his chest.

Crosshair lets out a startled yelp, quickly reverting to his usual grumpy tone. “Put me down Wrecker,” he huffs, failing to push Wrecker away as he squirms in his arms.

“No,” Wrecker counters, grinning to himself.

“I'll break your nose with my forehead if that's what it needs for you to let go, di'kut,” Crosshair hisses. Wrecker can tell he's bluffing, because if he wasn't, Crosshair would have acted on the threat already.

“I don't think you will,” Wrecker quips, shaking Crosshair from side to side lightly. The sniper grumbles, muttering swears and insults under his breath. Then, with a loud sigh, Crosshair stops struggling, leaning into Wrecker's hold.

“If I forget any mission prep because you distracted me, I'm hiding Lula somewhere where you won't find her for weeks,” Crosshair threatens. Wrecker laughs, knowing Crosshair won't act on that either.

“Admit it, you like being hugged. That's the only reason I haven't been stabbed with a toothpick yet.” Wrecker laughs as Crosshair responds with another irritated huff.

“It would be a lot easier to stab you if you weren't crushing my ribcage.” Crosshair tries to glare at Wrecker.

Wrecker isn't holding his brother that tightly, but still loosens his grip on him, just to be sure. Despite that, Crosshair still doesn't try to fight Wrecker off again, leaning into him slightly instead. That's all the confirmation Wrecker needs.

As much as Crosshair denies it, he's almost as bad as Wrecker when it comes to how much physical affection he needs. Wrecker doesn't mind, he's happy to pretend he just does this to annoy Crosshair if that's what it takes.

-

It's not like Omega's never been hugged before. After finding out about the concept, she'd asked Nala Se. Over the years, Nala Se gave in a few times, giving Omega what she wanted. But, Kaminoan's don't hug much, so Omega always felt like Nala Se didn't really know what to do.

Things are different now that Omega's with her brothers, especially with Wrecker.

Hunter doesn't really hug back, though he accepts Omega hugging him. She'd seen him when Wrecker hugs him, and Hunter doesn't always hug back either. Tech isn't a massive fan of touch, so Omega tries not to bother him too much. Echo's hesitant about hugging Omega, almost like he's worried about something, but he does hug her.

Wrecker's by far the easiest. Omega doesn't even have to ask him, he just seems to know when Omega needs to be held. She'd never had anything like this before.

Omega spots Wrecker talking to Echo, so she walks up to him and just stands there. It doesn't take long for Wrecker to glance down at her with a smile. He doesn't interrupt what he's saying as he reaches down and scoops Omega up, supporting her on his hip. Omega leans into her brothers side.

“Everything alright, 'mega?” Wrecker asks. Omega nods. It's hard to return the hug to Wrecker because his shoulders are so wide, but Omega still tries.

Echo and Wrecker are having a quiet conversation about a past mission that Omega halfway listens to. They joke, laughing ever so often. Omega doesn't get everything they say. They try to include her, explaining things as they go on, but Omega doesn't mind. She's content just understanding parts of it as she's held in her brothers arms.

This is so much better than being on Kamino, so much less lonely. There were more people in the labs, Omega was almost constantly around someone. But none of them were like her brothers, like Wrecker. None of them ever thought to hug her.

-

“Echo?” Wrecker asks, putting a hand on his new brother's shoulder. The demolitions expert had woken to Echo mumbling in his sleep, chest heaving. He must be having a nightmare. After everything that happened to him, Wrecker wouldn't be surprised. He has nightmares about a lot less.

When Echo doesn't respond, Wrecker shakes him as hard as he dares. That does the trick. With a gasp, Echo bolts upright, immediately swinging his hand at Wrecker. The ARC hits hard, making Wrecker stumble backwards a little. Echo stares in Wrecker's direction, shaking as he struggles to breath.

“You need something Echo?” Wrecker asks, taking a step towards his ori'vod. Realisation filters slowly into Echo's eyes.

“Wrecker?”

The large clone nods. “Looked like you were having a bad dream. Felt wrong to leave you like that.” Wrecker takes another step forwards. When Echo doesn't react negatively, he eventually settles next to Echo on the sleeping rack.

“Thanks,” Echo sighs, rubbing his hand across what's left of his other upper arm. Wrecker decides to take a risk and wrap his arms around Echo. He can back off if Echo tells him to.

Echo doesn't. Whilst he seems a little surprised at first, he quickly returns the gesture one handed. He holds on to Wrecker tightly, which the demolitions expert is more than happy to let happen.

“Want to talk?” Wrecker offers. Echo hadn't shared much about his time as a prisoner of war.

Echo shakes his head. “Nothing to talk about,” he says. Wrecker would argue that that's not strictly true, but he isn't going to push Echo. It's not like talking about problems is something any of them are particularly good at. “It's just, since Skako Minor, I can't really bare to be alone.”

“I can stay here,” Wrecker offers, adjusting how his arms are wrapped around the ARC trooper. Echo nods.

Moving back on the rack, Wrecker leans against the wall. Like this, he can stay there all night if he has to and it won't even be that bad for his back. Echo leans against his side, moving the blanket he'd been sleeping with so it covers both him and most of Wrecker's legs.

“Thank you,” Echo says, sighing as he relaxes a little.

“Any time,” Wrecker responds. He'd do so for any of his brothers, and Echo as the newest member of their squad isn't excluded from that.

-

Tech drops his project, an attempted modification of his datapad, in his lap a little too harshly as he glares over at Wrecker. The largest of Tech's brothers has been sleeping in the co-pilot seat, though “sleeping” is a stretch. He keeps shifting about, distracting Tech with the movement he keeps seeing in the corner of his eye and the noises Wrecker is giving off. Tech's tried to be patient with his kih'vod, but it's really beginning to annoy him.

“Wrecker, if you are having trouble sleeping here, I suggest you relocate to the sleeping rack. Ask Crosshair to share, I know there's enough place to fit both of you,” Tech sighs. He doesn't get a lot of peace and quiet on the Marauder, so he'd prefer the little time he does have to be undisturbed.

“Hunter's got a migraine, remember?” Wrecker groans, trying to draw his knees up onto the chair. His size makes it awkward for him to do so, forcing him to put his legs back down on the floor. “I don't wanna wake him.” Turning his head to face Tech, the light of hyperspace illuminates his expression. Wrecker's eyebrows are drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line. Tech recognizes the face as one of discomfort instantly.

“Is your back giving you trouble?” Tech asks. That would explain the constant squirming and restlessness. Whilst Wrecker's often got an excess of energy, the whole squad is exhausted. Going off of data Tech's collected over the years, everything points to Wrecker falling asleep in minutes. Tech should have connected the dots faster, should have noticed that Wrecker's chronic pain is keeping his from resting.

Wrecker chuckles dryly. “Bit of everything really.” He lets his head drop backwards against the chair, looking up towards the ceiling.

“Why didn't you say anything?” The whole squad is difficult with medical care, but Tech had thought they finally convinced Wrecker to bring up when his muscles are hurting.

“No point in doing so. We ran out of heat patches and I don't want to be poked with needles,” Wrecker grumbles, shifting the way he's sitting again. They ran out of heat patches a while ago, but hadn't had the time to restock them. The GAR doesn't supply them, so getting any is always a pain. Tech's been looking into an alternative, but they hadn't had time to organise one. Perhaps a heated blanket, if they could get their hands on one.

“You still should have said something. We have med patches which could at least serve to take the edge of,” Tech says as he places his datapad aside.

“Didn't want to bother you,” Wrecker replies with a shrug.

Tech sighs as he gets up. “Don't keep sitting in the co-pilot's seat. You know sleeping in the chairs makes your back worse,” he reminds his brother, striding towards where they keep the smaller first aid kit tucked away in the cockpit. When Tech turns back around, two med patches in hand, Wrecker's seated on the floor with the blanket he'd had across his knees before draped over his shoulders. He looks miserable.

All it takes is a tap on his shoulder for Wrecker to move so Tech can sit down behind him.

“Roll up your blacks,” Tech says, peeling the med patches out of their packaging. Wrecker groans under his breath as he moves the fabric of his shirt upwards and out of the way.

The first patch is applied to Wrecker's lower back, the other to the upper half, right near his neck. Tech takes care to smooth them down fully and helps Wrecker fix his blacks without dislodging the patches. Placing a hand on Wrecker's shoulder, Tech's about to stand up, but Wrecker turns to him with his eyes wide, almost pleading.

“Do you want me to stay?” Tech asks.

“Only if you don't mind,” Wrecker mumbles.

Tech sighs again. He won't be getting any work done that night, but his vode are more important than any of his projects. Tech isn't always comfortable with physical touch, neither is Hunter some days. Wrecker's become very good at reading those situations and giving them space when they need it. Right now, even as Tech settles next to Wrecker, the demolitions expert makes no move to get closer to Tech. Taking matters into his own hands, Tech wraps his arms around his brothers broad shoulders and starts manoeuvring him to a more open section of floor. It would do Wrecker good to lay down. Wrecker immediately leans into Tech's touch, holding on to him firmly. It's obvious from how Wrecker clings to him that the discomfort is worse than he'd let on to and had being going on longer than Tech thought. With how Wrecker's holding him, it takes a few attempts to get the two of them laying on the floor. Tech readjusts the blanket, making sure it covers Wrecker. It's hardly cold in the Marauder and with his brother glued to his side, there's no chance of Tech experiencing the downsides of sleeping without a blanket. Tech runs his hand across his brothers back, hoping to distract from the pain his body is causing him with the gesture. Being forced to lay down combined by the warmth of the close proximity is making Tech start to feel the effect of how long he'd gone without sleep.

Without wanting to, Tech falls pray to the clutches of sleep as well. The last thing he's aware of is Wrecker mumbling a quiet thank you into his shoulder.

[ilianaoftroy]

May I propose an underrated whump injury? Dislocated patella aka kneecap. The dislocated shoulder is a staple and always good, but imagine the dislocated kneecap. It pops back in on its own, but the pain is still there, the ligaments damaged. You almost always get a bone bruise, a deep, aching pain. You CAN walk, mostly, but it hurts, running even more so. Stairs, going from sitting to standing, any heavy lifting, all a no go and very painful. Beyond pain, there's the instability that makes every movement anxiety inducing, because it could happen again, and something could tear worse, or the bruise could become a break. If you don't have hyper flexible ligaments the joint will swell terribly. If you do, it can be a recurring issue. Recovery is slow, including weeks to months of PT and possibly surgery. It has great potential.

Totally unrelated, I brought the big dance number in my show to a screeching halt during final tech by dislocating my patella. I now need a buddy to half haul me down the stairs to the dressing rooms and through half the dances. It is my second time dislocating this same patella (many years apart) and it is extremely annoying. If anybody wants to write this injury into a story, ask away, just know I don't have experience with the knee swelling symptom because I possess freakish hyper flexible ligaments.

[smolbean-17]

Fellow Whump Enthusiasts!

I am making a list of all the shown (shown, not implied!) on screen physical whump moments throughout the show for the boys (no Omega cuz she’s just a baby) and I need your help! For fic inspo, and maybe even a future video compilation if you guys would like.

If you can think of any moment that I’ve overlooked, even if it’s just a wince or a smack or even exhaustion or anything like that, let me know! This is what I have so far for each character in order of who gets injured in the most episodes (Wrecker is whumped in more eps than Crosshair, but Hunter and Crosshair seem to be almost tied for most actual whump moments total)

Hunter (whumped in 18 eps)

S1E1: Winded and knocked to his knees by blaster

S1E3: Attacked by creature

Suffocating and passing out

Waking up panicked and disoriented

S1E4: Head-butted and knocked out by Fennec Shand

Stumbling/wincing as he comes to

S1E5: Electrocuted by net gun and passing out

Electrocuted by whip

Flinching due to electric sensitivity

S1E7: Beat up by Wrecker (full extent of injuries unknown)

Choked and knocked out by Wrecker

S1E8: Shot in the chest by Cad Bane and passing out

Bacta shot administered

Waking up disoriented and in pain

S1E9: Moments of wincing/hurt throughout ep

Omega head-butting his blaster wound

S1E14: Falling down a mountain hitting trees and rocks along the way

Passing out from fall (full extent of injuries unknown)

S1E15: Punched in the stomach by Crosshair

S1E16: Knocked out by explosion on Kamino

Clutching head as he wakes up

S2E1: Exhaustion from running

S2E5: Overall exhaustion throughout ep

S2E16: Broken ribs and arm from rail car collision

Exhaustion running after Omega

S3E5: Falling through the ice and getting knocked out

Clutching his hurt shoulder

S3E8: Dragged and thrashed under water by space gator

Choked by mantis

S3E9: Beat up by Ventress

S3E11: Exhaustion and coughing from swimming

S3E15: Injured and knocked out by explosion (full extent of injuries unknown)

Tortured with electricity by Hemlock (full extent of damage unknown)

Passing out from torture

Staggering/disoriented and groaning in pain the rest of the ep

Wrecker (whumped in 12 eps)

S1E1: Shot in shoulder by droid

Shot in shoulder again by Crosshair

Hypo shot administered

Groaning in pain throughout ep

S1E3: Knocked head against restraints

S1E4: Thrown and knocked out by Fennec Shand

S1E5: Knocked out by creature

Electrocuted by shock collar

Hit by electric whip

S1E6: Hit head in battle

Painful headaches

S1E7: More painful headaches

Stunned by Rex

Inhibitor Chip surgery

S1E16: Knocked out by explosion on Kamino

S2E16: Hurt neck and chest from rail car collision

Stunned by troopers

S3E9: Beat up by Ventress

Force choked by Ventress

S3E11: Injured and knocked out from explosion (full extent of injuries unknown)

S3E14: Clawed by creature

S3E15: Electrocuted in wound by electrostaff

Passing out from injuries

Disoriented and groaning in pain throughout the rest of ep

Crosshair (whumped in 10 eps)

S1E1: Knocked out by Caleb

Painful headaches throughout ep

Unpleasant chip enhancement

S1E3: More chip enhancement

S1E8: Severely burned face and head by ion engine (full extent of injuries unknown)

Disoriented and in pain the rest of ep

S1E15: More headaches

Thrown by Hunter

Stunned by Hunter

S1E16: Nearly drowning

More headaches

S2E12: Temporarily blinded by explosion

Suffering potential hypothermia

Passing out from cold and exhaustion

S2E14: Tortured by IT-O droid

Suffocated and knocked out by Hemlock’s poison gas

S3E7: Beat up by CX-2

Nearly drowned by CX-2

S3E9: Beat up by Ventress

S3E15: Hand cut off by CX-2

Passing out from amputation

Stump medical treatment

Staggering/disoriented and in pain the rest of the ep

Tech (whumped in 6 eps)

S1E1: Punched by clone in food fight

Knocked down and injured by droids and unable to get up (extent of injuries unknown)

S1E5: Electrocuted by net gun and passing out

S1E7: Choked out and thrown into wall by Wrecker (full extent of injuries unknown)

S1E16: Knocked out by explosion on Kamino

S1E2: Femur broken by crate

Groaning and limping in pain throughout the rest of the ep

Falling to the ground in pain

S2E16: Fell to his death saving his family

Echo (whumped in 5 eps)

S1E1: Knocked out by lunch tray

Waking up panicked and disoriented

S1E5: Hit off of building and knocked out

Electrocuted by shock collar

S1E7: Thrown and knocked out by Wrecker

S1E16: Knocked out by explosion on Kamino

S3E15: Stabbed in the back of the shoulder by CX Trooper

—————————————————————————

Wow I didn’t realize just how much these boys went through in the course of just a few seasons!

I still feel like I’m missing a lot, so let me know if you think of anything I’ve missed and I’ll update the list!

[fanfoolishness]

Visitation

Hunter has a conversation with a visitor. Set shortly after Plan 99. Grief, emotional whump, sleep deprivation, Hunter + Wrecker feels, Hunter + Tech feels. ~1400 words. (also omg I'm writing again yaaaay)

---

“You gotta sleep,” Wrecker mumbled for the eighth time.

Hunter shrugged him off with a glower and a scowl, his brows furrowing deeply. Just because Wrecker was right didn’t make his words any less aggravating. “I’ll sleep when there’s time,” Hunter snapped. “Leave it alone, Wreck.”

They had to keep going. The trace they were running was the first one that hadn’t come up as a total dead end. There were clues here that could point the way to Omega if they were just smart enough to figure them out and piece together Hemlock’s trail. He didn’t dare sleep on that.

Wrecker rubbed his eyes, then yawned so powerfully Hunter could hear the cracking in the joints of his jaw. “You’re no good wiped out. Neither ‘m I.”

”We’ll be fine. We’re close to something. I can tell.”

”I wanna find her too. But —“ Wrecker hesitated, worry clear in the set of his face. The muscles in his throat worked in a gulp. “Nah. Forget it.”

”What?” Hunter said, a warning note creeping into his voice. 

Wrecker waved a hand. “It’s nothing.” He got to his feet, groaning as he stood for the first time in hours. “More caf?”

”Yeah.”

“I’ll get it.”

---

The last of the caf had long since cooled, its bitter odor turning more acrid as it chilled. Hunter slugged down the dregs anyway, grimacing at the foul taste. 

Wrecker had tried to stay awake, Hunter had to give him that. But now he was hunched over the console on his folded arms, snoring quietly.

Hunter let him do it. It made sense that Wrecker would need the extra rest, since he needed to heal up after their last scrap. But Hunter couldn’t afford the same luxury, not for himself. He had to keep working.

Hunter focused as hard as he could, his head aching with the effort. He kept running over the coordinates on Tech’s datapad, vision blurring, fingertips flinching with an imperceptible frisson every time he tapped or typed or swiped.

This was Tech’s.

He shouldn’t be touching it. They’d all learned that lesson years ago. 

Hunter knew he might mess it up. Tech always had the specs set just how he liked them --

“Put that down,” Tech said from behind him. By the timbre of his voice, his annoyance level was mild, verging on moderate; there was a hint of fondness overlaid with a familiar steely tone. Tech wasn’t too irritated, but he’d get there if Hunter didn’t listen to him soon. 

Hunter stifled a chuckle, then blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He turned around slowly, his heart racing.

“You’re not -- you shouldn’t be here,” Hunter said stupidly.

Tech raised his eyebrows enough for them to arc above his goggles. “I find that rude,” he said.

“Don’t,” Hunter whispered. “You’re dead. We saw you fall.”

“Details,” Tech said, shrugging. “There’s still work to do, isn’t there? Therefore I am here.” He leaned back in the pilot’s chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You do not look well, Hunter. Tell me, are you sleeping?”

“There isn’t time.” He shook his head, willing the apparition to leave. “We have to find Omega before Hemlock hurts her.” His mind spun with awful specters, imagining the worst tests of the Kaminoans and multiplying their pain into agony of the highest order. Omega crying in a cell, strapped to a table like an animal, her voice a wailing scream --

“What makes you think he wishes to hurt her?” Tech said. “Look at the facts. His men took care to stun her. Hemlock mentioned Nala Se. Nala Se has certainly decommissioned her share of clones, but there is no evidence she would wish to harm Omega, and if Hemlock requires her cooperation… I believe Omega will be safe enough, for a time. It is simply logical.”

“You’re awfully optimistic for a dead man,” Hunter said, then dropped Tech’s datapad with a clatter, suddenly feeling sick. Did I just say that -- He stared up at Tech, holding out an unsteady hand. “I -- I’m sorry, Tech. I’m not -- I didn’t mean --”

Tech leaned forward, picking up the datapad and setting it down beside Hunter. “There is no need to apologize. I am indeed dead.”

Hunter swore loudly. “Don’t say that!”

“You just said it,” Tech pointed out. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Tech, I swear to --” Tech could be so infuriating sometimes. 

He suddenly laughed, feeling dangerously close to tears. None of this made any sense. What was going on?

Tech looked at him steadily. “You are aware of what this is, aren’t you?”

“No.” He buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath.

“You need to sleep.” Tech held up his finger, underscoring his point. “The effects of sleep deprivation in humans are well-known and may include decreased reflexes, incoordination, irritability, immunosuppression, visual and auditory hallucinations --”

Hunter laughed again despite himself. “Great. Now you’re on my case too. Wrecker was bad enough.”

“You should go easy on him. He is only attempting to look out for you.” For a moment something painful flashed across Tech’s face, a twist of his mouth, shadows beneath his eyes. “It is important to him, Hunter. Do you understand?”

How could he understand?

The chasm gaped between them, the railcar dangling, the cold wind howling in his ears.

“Get up here! Now!” Hunter called. This wasn’t happening. Not again. There had to be time, they were going to make it -- they were all going to make it -- “That’s an order!” he screamed.

When have we ever followed orders --

A hand closed around his arm, shaking him gently. “Hunter. Hunter.”

Hunter blinked, the world snapping back to the Marauder and the stars beyond. “Saw him,” he choked. 

“Saw who?” Wrecker asked, settling into the chair beside him, looking anxious.

Hunter froze. He swallowed, looking around the empty cockpit, eyes landing on the shattered goggles. His gut twisted, and he managed a ragged breath.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“You were yellin’,” said Wrecker, looking away. “Woke me up. I thought maybe you were having a nightmare, but your eyes were open --”

Hunter groaned. “I don’t know. Maybe I was.” He glanced at Tech’s datapad, which was on the floor where he’d dropped it. He’d thought Tech had picked it up -- 

But of course there’d been no one there.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, then bent down and picked up Tech’s datapad, handing it carefully to Wrecker. “You, uh… you keep an eye on things for a bit.”

Wrecker took it, though he hesitated. It looked so small in his hands. “Feels wrong, using this. It’s -- it’s his.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Hunter let out a sigh. “Gonna get some shut-eye. You were right. Keeping on like this isn’t going to find Omega any faster.” He brushed back the hair falling into his eyes, and got to his feet. He was about to turn and head to his bunk when he paused, reaching out and resting a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. “Thanks. For looking out for me.”

Wrecker ducked his head, unable to speak for a moment. Finally he said, “s’what I’m here for.”

“Damn right it is.” Hunter gripped harder, then let go, making his way to his bunk. He rolled into it unceremoniously, more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life. He closed his eyes, and saw Omega.

They’d find her. They had to. And until then… He thought of what Tech had said, cool calm logic explaining why Omega would be safe. Maybe he was right. Maybe she’d get through this unharmed.

His mouth tightened. What Tech had said -- What a damn hallucination had said. He was losing it.

Yet Tech’s words were comforting, and he kept them close.  I believe she will be safe enough, for a time.

He’d make that time as short as possible. His fist curled in determination, then uncurled, fingers going slack as sleep took him. He dreamed of Pabu warm and sunny, the sound of waves on a rocky shore, Omega’s arms flung wide around him. He held her close, closer than he’d ever dared, an embrace that said you’ll always be our kid. 

But through Omega’s laughter and the setting sun there was an emptiness, and Hunter wandered long into the dark, looking for someone who wasn’t there.

[itzshrike]

What is wrecker is the one who doesn’t make it?? Most people thinks it’s hunter and while it would be tragic if we lost him, if we lose wrecker it’s going to be gut wrenching for hunter. Hunters lost everyone in his squad except wrecker. Strong, steadfast, loyal wrecker. But what if wrecker sacrifices himself to save another batcher? Whether hunter was going to sacrifice himself but wrecker stopped him and did it instead. He takes a shot for crosshair, echo, or omega. Or worse, tech. Tech, his older brother he couldn’t pull to safety (no fault of his own) tech who could be cx 2 and is helping the rebellion and gets blown off a cliff or ledge. Tech who already fell once and wrecker will be damned before that happens again on his watch. (You cant tell me doesn’t feel guilty or pain over that). Just wrecker who has a childlike sense of wonder but is still mentally mature and knows the probability of all of them making them out is slim. Just wrecker…

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (ch. 2)

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 13 - Prompts: Team as a Family // Familial Curse

Rated: T | Words: 773

<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

A/N: Told myself I was not going to write anymore multi-chapter stories for prompt challenges...but here we are...not sure which prompt will be the next chapter, but keep a look out! (Special thanks to @fionas-frenzy & @omegafett99 for their suggestions with this prompt fill!)

“How’s it looking?” 

“We’re in luck. Whoever scuttled this ship didn’t wipe the hard drive’s data imprint. I’m transferring the files.” Tech doesn’t have to ask if Omega wants to help. He already knows she does. She would not have sought him out otherwise. He holds out the data stick, and she readily takes it. “But I still need to copy the master drive. It’s under that panel.” He goes back to his own work. 

“Tech?” Omega asks a moment later, and he waits for the expected questions to come next. Instead, she asks nothing related to copying the master drive. “What was the war like?” 

Omega may have been bound to Kamino her whole life; however, she has been surrounded by the essence of war. The Kaminoans were not discreet in their purpose for cloning soldiers. The question, therefore, seems unnecessary, since she surely knows the definition. “It was a primary mission objective comprised of battles on various fronts.” 

 “But what was it like?” Omega asks again, emphasizing her words in such a way as to indicate he had not just answered her question. 

“Hm?” There is no other answer to give. “I just told you.” 

**

“What was the war like?” Tech echoes the distant question, voice a breathless whisper. “I didn’t understand your question at the time, did I?” 

Omega is not present to answer. He wonders if she and their brothers got off Eriadu safely. This can’t all be for nothing. His brokenness, of body and spirit. He does not want to think his mind might be broken too. Not yet. 

Time is moving strangely. He doesn’t know if it’s been mere minutes or hours or days. But he can’t stay in this cave forever. He needs to find water at the very least. And then a way off this planet. A way back to his siblings. But maybe he can rest just a few moments more. 

“The war was everything,” Tech says to the darkness where the warmth of Omega’s presence lingers like a ghost. Maybe his mind is broken after all. “It was our whole lives, our whole meaning, our whole purpose. There wasn’t anything else. Until the Order. Until you.”

He has to find his way back. He has to tell her about the war. About their history. About her brothers. He has so much left to teach her. He was willing to go through with Plan 99, and had meant the words with his last breath. 

Only the plan had failed, and he had drawn breath again against all odds. 

“I’m picking up a heat signature over here,” a voice says. It isn’t modulated through the comm of a helmet, but that doesn’t make Tech fear any less. He can crawl further into his cave, hope that he isn’t worth coming after. 

Before he can force his fragmented body to move, a set of hands claws into the narrow opening, fingers trying to find holds on the remains of his armor. He wants to struggle, to pull away, but perhaps he is more injured than he initially realized. Perhaps it was adrenaline that pushed him this far. 

Perhaps he is dying after all. 

Perhaps…this is the end. 

He is dragged out roughly and dropped. He cries out in pain. 

“What are you doing here, Empire scum?” the voice demands. 

Tech coughs, a rattle deep in his lungs. That is not good, he thinks faintly. “I am…” he gasps out, “...not with the Empire.” 

“You’re a clone.” 

“I have freewill,” Tech bites out, fingers clawing into damp earth. Dew has settled. “My brothers and I chose against the Empire.” 

“Your brothers,” the voice scoffs, voice saturated with disdain. “You mean other clones.” 

Something inside Tech breaks. These individuals, whoever they are, hate the Empire. Hate him. Hate his brothers. But they are his only chance now. He won’t survive much longer on his own power. “Please. I want to go home.” 

“Why would we help you? Why shouldn’t I just end you now, put you out of your misery?” 

“Because I have information that might be valuable to you,” Tech says, and maybe some unchecked emotion leaks through, but he is too exhausted and shattered to care.

A boot rolls him to his back, and Tech is staring up into a twilight sky. The misty clouds he fell through have cleared, and stars blink down at him, brilliant pinpricks of light. Even without his goggles he sees them. Omega loves the stars. 

“Prove that you have information we want,” the voice says. 

But Tech can’t think of anything to say before his thoughts and vision go dark. 

TBC

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