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sinisterexaggerator · 2 months

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Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 14

Explicit: Semi-slow burn, gratuitous smut /pwp, canon-typical violence, mildly dubious consent, angst, Tatooine Slave Culture.

This chapter: Flashbacks / nightmares, whump, mild-medical procedure involving a needle/dispenser and sedatives.

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: It only took me TWO YEARS TO UPDATE. SORRY ABOUT THAT. I promise that I will try to update more regularly from now on.

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

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“Supposin’ us bein’ partners don’ mean nothin’,” Bane flippantly offered. Though feeling despondent, he masked it well. The two men were a lot alike in that respect; Bane hardly knew what went on inside the Mando’s over-complicated mind.

“You’ve learned everything there is to know, Cad. And what you don’t know, you don’t want to learn, even if given the opportunity.”

“What’s dhat even mean,” the Duros asked bitingly, throwing down the butt of his cigarra on the cold, hard ground. The two began to make their way, Jango sighing under the beskar helmet that hid his face, Bane trudging along behind, albeit slowly; he was freezing.

Vandor was an icy planet, located in the Sloo Sector of the Mid Rim, currently home to a target that had made his home in Fort Ypso, a snowy village that lay sequestered in the foothills of the Iridium mountains, only crossable by bridge. The wooden planks groaned under their feet as the pair of hunters ventured onward, Slave I left beyond its borders so as not to attract attention and give the game away.

“It means you are stubborn,” Fett returned, his voice carrying over the blistering wind. “Perhaps it is time for you to branch out on your own; be your own man. I am beginning to think I cramp your style.”

The Duros sneered, offended in more ways than one, fangs chattering even though he wore specialized gear meant to curtail the cold from leeching through to his very bones. “Says de man who don’ know when te turn down a job; if Ah had nips, dhey’d already be frozen off.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Jango informed him, his joke lost on the dour man. He wasn’t in the mood for Bane’s attitude, much less his complaints.

“As fer style, Ah got plenty, naht countin’ dhis ridiculous ‘fit ye’ made me wear.”

Bane frowned despite himself, feeling each minor movement of his facial muscles; they were stiff from the frigid temperature, the younger man desiring to find a place of warmth. At least his body glove was able to retain some heat, otherwise he was sure to succumb to this positively ridiculous weather within mere minutes, seconds.

“Fine; maybe Ah should leave ye te it dhen; wait in de ship, if yer so keen on gettin’ rid of me.”

Then, his sour expression deepened, Bane’s footfalls ceasing as he came to a full stop. “It’s ‘cause Ah don’ agree with ye, ain’t it.”

“It’s not your life, nor your decision,” the Mandalorian shot back without delay, unable to hide his bitterness. “I know what I want, even if you don’t.”

Bane braced himself, realizing this was about to become more personal than he had bargained for, Fett having never bothered to explain his motives. All Bane knew was he had won some contest, proving he was the best bounty hunter in all the galaxy—a title he assumed might one day rightfully be his.

Fett had trained him, after all. More than that; he had become his friend, his confidant. Bane might go so far as to think he even loved the man, though never voicing those sentiments out loud; he buried them, like everything else he felt.

Perhaps it was fear that kept him quiet. Fear, or maybe anxiety. They both lived in the same place—inside his chest. The chest that currently housed a heart beating furiously behind a wall of ribs, even as Bane reached out to touched Fett’s shoulder.

What he couldn’t understand was why he needed a million of himself; Jango would be tasked to train an army for an unknown benefactor, an army of clones.

The idea sent shivers down Bane’s scales. He understood there were credits to be made, and lots of them. But even so, this was a line Bane himself would never cross—playing God by ignoring ethics, by ignoring quandaries he thought might only come about in science labs. Not in the field; not in the relatively short life of a bounty hunter.

“Ah know what Ah want,” he muttered softly, “de one of ye.”

The Mando whisked around, batting his companion’s hand away. He could not see his face, but Fett’s annoyance easily radiated out beyond his suit of armor. He thought Bane would never understand his hatred for the Jedi; the duty he had assigned himself that consumed half his personality. “Come off it.”

Bane hesitated. The sky began to darken; he thought he had been to this place before.

“You’re a fool,”Fett’s voice, a low baritone, seeped into Bane’s ears, in turn causing the Duros to tremble. It was not out of the coldness of the weather, but the coldness of his words, that Bane’s body involuntarily shuddered, wide, red eyes blinking away flecks of snowflakes as they floated toward the ground; they were gossamer, each one intricate by its own design.

“But Fett-”

“Shut up,” the Mando cut him off. Something wasn’t right. Bane gazed around himself, even as Fett continued. “You really think I care about what you think?”

Bane stared at him, a wounded look taking over his already glum face. Even so, he thought to follow-up, wondering if he had said these words before. “Just dhat-”

Flames were birthed from blankets of white snow, shooting up as pillars of an all-consuming heat, Bane taking a step back as he watched the fire cast a shadow on Jango’s beskar helmet. Those little flecks, those tiny snowflakes, were now tendrils of hot ash, the icy ground nearby the bridge they stood on a carpet of dirt and soot.

“Ja-Jango?” Bane stuttered out; the man approached, deliberate, even as his voice rose in his anger.

“You are nothing to me, Cad. You are nothing.”

The fire blazed more luminous than a main-sequence star; the heavens were black as pitch and no sun shone; Bane heard another sound, this one the creak of weakening ropes as the Duros realized the bridge they stood upon was near to collapse. It was old, rickety, and the only way into town.

“You are not my friend, and you will never be my family,” Fett assured, his vehemence laced with mockery. The Mando laughed, dry, and borderline sadistic; it was out of character for him. Bane grimaced.

“Fett, we gotta go back!” Bane ignored his hurtful remarks, noticing the bridge was starting to sink and give beneath their weight and the onslaught of the flames. The youth would peer over the side, eyes set to broaden as he realized the mountain valley was now nothing but a pit of hellfire.

“You are weak; pathetic; worthless-”

“-stop it!”

“-just a frightened little boy.”

“Enough!” the Duros shouted; he could hear the panic in his voice. He cursed himself, wanting to be brave; wanting to prove to Fett that everything he said was erroneous, inaccurate – but he was right; Bane was frightened.

Suddenly, Bane had nothing below his feet, just a gaping hole and a river of bright flames. Fett was hovering; he had activated the thrusters of his jetpack; Bane aimed to do the same, pressing a button on his wrist gauntlet, except his boots wouldn’t fire; they sputtered and died out.

He kept on falling.

“Jango!” He heard his voice crack, Bane reaching out and up toward the Mando. The man only laughed that wry, cruel laugh, even as Bane fell to what he knew would be his death.

With hands grasping, arms flailing, and legs kicking erratically, Bane yelled one last time as his body was engulfed, swallowed by the void.

“Ah’m sorry!”

---

“Oh, no!” Todo 360 articulated. “I was afraid this might happen!” the droid verbalized in a mild state of panic. He began zooming around the room, peeking into cabinets and pulling out various tools, utensils, and medical implements. It appeared to Zulara that he might be looking for something in particular, so hurried were his movements in his haste.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly, though eager, not sure what was even wrong or what it was she would be looking for. The girl had been seated on the floor, tinkering with one of Bane’s fancy vambraces; it was sparking.

The girl glanced to the bacta pod where Cad Bane slumbered, but something was amiss; his eyelids twitched. She stood, then approached with caution, peering down into the coffin-like contrivance – that’s when she noticed.

The Duros trembled, the muscles of his face distorting into what looked like fear, then pain. His head shifted back and forth from side to side, though not awake. Zulara’s heart ached for the man.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, turning to stare at the frantic Todo. He was too busy in his search to hear her, muttering his many grievances and even a few expletives.

“Todo?” she asked again, the concern apparent in her voice. She stepped forward toward the little droid, tapping him gently on his tiny shoulder.

Todo whirled on her, having forgotten momentarily that she was even aboard the ship, Zulara noting she had startled him by the widening of his citrine eyes.

“Do not do that!” he proclaimed, immediately taking back up the search. Zulara’s lower lip quivered as she turned on her heel, refacing the injured man; he at least seemed calmer now, which Zulara pointed out.

“He’s stopped moving,” she whispered.

Todo zipped on by, a cool rush of air tickling her arm. He observed his master through the glass, a pane of two-inch thick transparisteel.

The droid sighed a human sigh, then rounded on his thrusters. He stared up at the girl, finally managing to find the time to give her a halfhearted story of some kind.

“When in the bacta pod, Bane’s subconscious is left totally unguarded! He is vulnerable to whatever it is his mind can conjure up, and I will have you know these things are not pleasant.”

“He had a nightmare,” Zulara stated, though the end of her phrase had a questioning lilt to it.

Todo nodded in assent, then added: “He has a lot of those, I am afraid.” He wondered if he should be telling all Bane’s secrets. Was this a secret? Nightmares were common among organics. He was unsure.

Zulara frowned at him, then looked down at her boots. She often had nightmares herself, a reoccurring one; the one where she was stripped from her mother’s arms by her drunken father; the one where she was ushered off like chattel into a life of slavery.

Her gaze returned to Todo once she had repressed that bit of sordid memory. “Will he be all right?” she questioned anxiously.

“You are humorous, human. Mister Bane has endured much worse. But I must find this pneumatic dispenser! It holds a sedative we may need; it is only a precaution.”

“You are going to sedate him?” Zulara asked, perplexed.

“Well, it is better than what Bane would do!” Todo scolded, continuing his rummaging. “I, for one, do not wish to suppress my memories, but in all likelihood Bane will hurt himself in this state, and he is already wounded.”

Zulara seemed confused. “What do you mean?”

Todo was becoming irritated. If this woman was not present, he could work in peace! Just who did Boba think he was, leaving her with him! Granted, she seemed to care about his master, but she was still a nuisance! Perhaps the droid was now beginning to understand why Bane called him that on limitless occasions - and when he meant well.

He started to have a change of heart, though his metal shell was empty besides his circuitry; his own thought process set him straight. Todo simply sighed again, though trying to be patient. “Mister Bane seems to think that libations will solve his problems. Why, ever since Boba Fett shot him in the head, he has never been the same!”

Zulara’s frown remained fixated, though deepening. She had heard this mentioned once before as they had dragged Bane inside his ship. Why would the man that had helped to rescue him want him dead instead? It made no sense. She thought to ask, but wondered if the droid would answer her.

Todo seemed two things: high-strung and untrusting, though Zulara’s interest was not self-serving, she was only curious. It was hard not to want to learn all she could about the Duros, his history, and those things that made him tick.

“What happened?” she finally managed, fingers trailing a path down the outside of the convex, transparent glass. “Boba would not tell me how he knew Bane,” she added, studying the curves and angles of the hunter’s face despite the mask he wore that fed him oxygen.

“Because then Boba would be admitting to attempted murder!” the incensed droid piped up, rounding on her. He was flustered by the question, and even more so aggravated by the answer he was about to give. Young Fett was a traitor and a deserter in his opinion; a fly-by-night, disreputable scoundrel to say the very least!

“When one commits to a job, or when one is given a home and specialized training - for free might I add – with only the expectancy of loyalty, and then for that person to defect, to try Mister Bane’s patience after all he did for him!”

Todo scoffed, turning back around. He opened up a lower cabinet, somehow sticking his large head inside, so his words were muffled. “To question his authority is one thing, but to shoot him?!” Todo’s voice was elevated, despite being dampened within the cupboard he was scouring. “Simply because you do not agree with his methods!?”

Zulara watched Todo’s metal chassis shift back and forth as his upper half continued with its plundering, tossing things haphazardly behind him. The girl would lift one leg, dodging something sharp that vibrated—a sonic scalpel? What did Cad Bane need that for?

Zulara bent down to pick it up; she switched it off. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about the head plate Bane always sported. “So, then Boba betrayed him? He shot him at point-blank range?”

Her thoughts drifted to the man whose comlink was in her pocket. The youthful face, the curly hair, the deep brown eyes – so soft and rich – she could not imagine him to be a killer, yet he was another bounty hunter. A bounty hunter like the Duros she had feelings for, the one who left her, the one who desired her dead for the sand she had thrown into his stark garnet eyes.

“Well, no,” Todo admitted. He had been there, after all, observing it all unfold. “There was a duel. It was a tie-” the little droid emerged to swivel toward her once again, “-but Boba cheated! A Mandalorian’s helmet is made of beskar! And while Boba is no Mandalorian, his -er- father was.”

Todo 360 made an irritated harumph. “A solitary clone should have been grateful to have Mister Bane mentor him! I know I would be. Of course, he did owe Jango many favors, or so Mister Bane has said…”

His voice trailed off; Zulara realized something. It was no matter that this droid was comprised of ones and zeros, or its many servos. Something clicked inside her brain—Todo had no bolt, no way in which he was restrained. He loved his master, and to some extent, Cad Bane must love him.

She could only imagine this Fett harbored some kind of guilt, as well he should. If she ever saw him, if he ever commed her…yet it was not her business.

Zulara refocused her attention, “a pneumatic dispenser, no?” Her inquiry was soft, calming. Todo perceptibly unwound, as the organic’s voice was somehow soothing.

He was not used to women hanging around; he had only known those that Bane kept on retainer for one reason or another, namely Aurra Sing; she had not one gentle bone in her whole body. In fact, he might blame her for the way young Boba had turned out. While Mister Bane had a hand in it, it was not until he had been abandoned and thrown in prison thanks to the Palliduvan that his master had offered Fett his guidance.

“Yes,” the exhausted droid replied, returning to his work. He kept one eye on her, but he was thankful for the girl’s assistance, however wary. One could never be too careful.

---

“Boba?” Bane had heard the name, floating out in empty space, inside his mind, or spoken by a God. It lingered, the two syllables leeching their way into his cerebral cortex, even as pure darkness surrounded him, enveloping his cold flesh like a thickset, heavy blanket of unease.

His stomach lurched; he felt like throwing up. Instead, he sat upright and was faced with a nearly obscene brightness. Someone had unveiled the stars, but one shown more luminous than all the others; the one that warmed the desert planet he was now stationed on.

“Bane!”

The Duros’ eyes rolled to his left, spying within his hand a bottle of dark liquor, Bane ascertaining this might be the reason for his sickness; the empty feeling that tarried in his guts. But still, nothing was making sense.

Bane dropped the bottle, glancing up. Some distance away was a teenaged Boba Fett.

How many times would the kid shout his name in anger? How many times would he have to remember his father’s face when looking into his? That armor, that helmet – all a cruel reminder.

“You should have been there.” That’s what the boy had said that fateful day.

Bane stood, gazing out. He was supposed to say something, words that had been repeated time and time again. The outcome would never be any different, he suspected, but the hunter was caught in a web of his own delusions. Maybe this time he could make it right; maybe this time Bane would not lose his self-respect or his dignity to a fourteen-year-old brat.

“Ah wouldn’ be so-” Bane’s voice dropped; he said the rest quietly and to himself, “-hasty now, boy…”

No. This wasn’t at all accurate. This had happened once before. Bane studied his surroundings, noting the placement of the buildings, a fire that burned in the distance, wisps of dark-colored smoke emanating in tight curls.

Fire.

There was a fire.

He had fallen.

Boba turned his head; Bane followed his lead, spying C-21 Highsinger and his faithful droid companion. Held prisoner in their grasp was a white-haired old man. The child - Fett’s offspring - demanded that he be released along with all the other hostages.

What hostages.

“Let them go, Bane.”

What had he done? He could not remember, the Duros craning his hat and head to stare down at both of his blue hands.

“This isn’t their fight anymore.”

Bane knit his brow in thought, his gaze returning to the boy. He took a new approach, or at least he thought. He was unsure, second-guessing, caught in a place that resembled reality, yet Bane was positive none of this was real.

“Yer daddy ain’t here, boy. Ah knowit. But ye gonna go ‘head an’ bite de hand dhat feeds?”

Bane took two steps forward, somehow knowing what came next. He had always wondered if there was some other way than this, something he could have done to change Fett’s mind. But in the end, he had it out for him; it was a part of history that could never be rewritten. Boba had got it in his head that Cad Bane was his enemy, and the sole executioner of the people here, as if he was the only one who was unscrupulous among those present.

“Yer gonna wind up poor, or dead, out on yer own – dhis galaxy is harsh. Ye think Jango was perfect? Ye think he wouldn’ do whateva’ it takes te get de job done?”

“Shut up! I am not my father!” Boba scolded beneath his helmet; Bane ground his teeth as he glared at him, his expression full of venom. Always such an impudent, brazen child. He hated Jango then – all of them – and his clone army; his poor decision.

“No more innocent people are going to die, or be locked up, or live in fear,” Fett reiterated, brandishing a finger. It was ironic, all this talk, when Boba Fett was supposed to be a bounty hunter.

“Did ye ferget what profession ye’s in? We’re hunters, Boba. Unless ye ain’t one. Maybe yer just soft.”

A poor choice of words, considering the circumstances. Bane was sure he had only made things worse. He did not have the time to contemplate anything beyond that, for Bossk and Embo had arrived.

At least they were fairly trustworthy, the Kyuzo only second to Bane himself. Bossk knew how to take directions, even though he had connections, strong ones, to the Guild. Bane had thought, incorrectly, that they might back him up and take his side, but the blood that ran through Boba’s veins was a testament to his skill and to his mounting leadership, despite his age and stature.

Bane smiled a crooked smile. “Looks like yer lil’ insurrection has failed.”

Boba looked behind himself and to the others; Bane’s smile faltered. He glanced around as the thin shroud separating this world from the next shimmered and disjoined. He saw stars; realspace; a depthless abyss of nothing, like a curtain had been pulled back to reveal the stage, and he was the main character.

“I say we give the kid his shot,” he heard the Trandoshan rasp.

Bane dug his boots into the sandy earth. There was a suction pulling him, like a vacuum, toward a gaping hole that now stretched so wide the entire town was gone. The only thing that remained were the other hunters; Bossk and Embo had stood down, and Boba was rounding on him.

Bane realized they did not seem to be affected; it was like none of this was happening. He knew what he was supposed to say, as if only reciting his own name.

“So, dhat’s it – just ye and me dhen, Boba Fett.”

“I guess it is,”the boy would reply.

Their eyes met, or at least he thought they did. That damned bucket was in the way, Bane mentally cursing its utility – it’s why he hated them – it was a place to hide.

And kark the others; their loyalty was forfeit, Bane reminded of a most important lesson: he was alone, and he always had been. Always would be, save his droid for company.

A sharp wind picked up, yet Bane’s hat did not fly off—not yet. He fought with all his might against an invisible adversary, even as his fingers danced above one LL-30 BlasTech pistol. If he could only be a fraction faster, if he could only put this disgruntled adolescent in his rightful place, his anger, his heartache, his headaches—they all might vanish.

His quick draw was the cause of his notoriety. To be outdone - to lose to a snot-nosed kid - it would be an embarrassment, though highly understated. The only thing he had left to him was his reputation, and Fett was out to steal it from him, albeit fair and square. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let that happen.

Bane pulled his weapon; he squeezed the trigger. Simultaneously, another shot was fired. Superheated plasma - imbued with an explosive quality - transferred kinetic and thermal force to the armor plating that lined his signature bolero.

It was not enough to stay the bolt; he felt a searing pain on the left side of his head, radiating across his brow and the upper part of his domed skull. He fell back flat, staring up at a now starless, barren sky. He was out of breath, and he thought this is where he ought to die.

Bane would close his eyes, legs stretched out and arms taut at his sides. He had no idea the outcome; that it had been a tie; that Boba Fett had saved himself from his demise by wearing that accursed beskar, yet the young hunter’s aim had not betrayed him.

“Mister Bane!” he would hear his droid call aloud in a worried tone. He had repeated it three times now, though the Duros found he could not move. The only thing he could perceive in this state was a scathing ache; an excruciating, endless throbbing, right where the bolt made contact with his hat and ricocheted.

The plasma had been so hot, so volatile, it had dissolved his scales clean off and scorched him to the bone—the durasteel panel had dented inward before his hat rebounded off his head and fluttered to the ground, molten metal boring easily through flesh and osseous tissue, slowed only partially.

Tears welled behind shut eyelids, as in that moment, he wished the boy had killed him.

---

Zulara, hours later, had traversed Mos Eisley’s streets. She had been looking for something, something good to eat. While she was not hungry, she imagined Bane would be the moment he awoke. The girl had not strayed far in her search for the right ingredients.

She aimed to concoct a Twi’lek dish, though she would modify it. Her palette did not enjoy the fungi that accompanied the rycrit meat. She would add carrots and potatoes, along with various other root vegetables, to cook a hearty stew, a thing to keep Bane’s strength up and paid for with her own meager credits.

Todo had confirmed there was nothing much edible aboard Bane’s ship; she had found out shortly that its name was the Justifier; curious, though she would not mention it. Once they had found the lost dispenser, Zulara made it her new objective to prepare a home-cooked meal for the healing Duros. Perhaps he would be appreciative and would not mind that she was here, doing her best to look out for him.

To think, she could still be napping in Ohnaka’s arms if Fett had not sounded the alarm. It was something more complicated than a mere regret; she did not feel that way. In fact, it pleased her. It had scratched an itch Cad Bane had left behind. Still, she had been hurt, a stupid thing, as the youth had asked how long she had known this man; her answer proved unsatisfactory, even to herself.

Why? Why care? As if his attempt to free her was not enough, though Bane had made her feel things she had never felt before. Maybe Zulara has naïve, a woman with no sense, but what sense could she have considering her circumstances? Some might call it a learning curve, though that did not mean she was not harboring intelligence. In this case, she was thinking with her heart and not her head, but she could not help it; all she cared for was Bane’s good health.

Zulara absentmindedly stirred a pot; it was something she had located in a cabinet by the conservator. It barely appeared used; she wondered if Bane ever liked to cook, or if his starship had come equipped with those things he needed, whether utilized or not.

Once the rycrit stew was at a simmer, she lowered its heat setting and placed a lid on top of it. With this accomplished, she thought to find Todo and pose another question: where was there a workroom, a space with tools? She had it in her mind to fix Bane’s gauntlet, wanting to feel useful.

Now, just where had that droid gone off to?

---

Glowing embers of crimson red bothered to open up again as Cad’s body began to move of its own volition.

No – it was the wind, that suction. It had gained momentum; it was stronger, rolling him like a tumbleweed toward the open maw of nothing!

The hat went first, vanishing beyond the veil. Bane grimaced as he dug his fingers into the pliant earth. There was no stopping it, head pounding as his legs thrashed violently. He was like a fish out of water, surrounded by only grit and sand. Death, once more, seemed imminent.

The Duros panicked.

---

Zulara heard a crash, like something falling. She rushed back to where Bane rested, Todo’s mental state in a disarray as he had dropped something. Her eyes traveled toward the pod; Bane was seizing. The girl would gasp as she ran for the tank at lightspeed.

It wasn’t that the droid was clumsy, he had simply moved too quickly. Seeing his master at the mercy of his nightmares had drawn out all his worry; it must have been preprogrammed, but by who was an unsolved mystery—unless it was Vertseth Automata. Surely, Bane would have preferred a model with more strengths than weaknesses, but he had his purpose. Currently, it was to act as nurse, though he was not one; he had been built for techo-service.

By the time Todo arrived, Zulara had already pried open the bacta pod. Bane was coughing, sputtering, even while unconscious. The girl tried lifting him, cupping his upper back as he broached the surface; the sticky gel still held him, her face strained with the effort, though Zulara kept him aloft, fighting the weakness of her arms—Bane was too heavy for her alone.

“Todo, do something!” she pleaded, though she needn’t ask. The droid had readied the dispenser that housed the sedative mid-dash.

“I am sorry, Bane, but this will only hurt a moment!” he said in warning, still somehow afraid of incurring his master’s wrath, no matter that he was incapacitated. He aligned the needle and pressed with all his might; the medicine was injected directly into the site; it would disperse and travel throughout his bloodstream, suppressing his dark memories to the best of its ability.

Todo sighed, dropping his hand and arm. He let the empty dispenser fall onto the floor. Bane had noticeably relaxed; his breathing evened out. Zulara finally felt convinced enough to lie him back down within the healing gel.

“Is-is that it? Will he settle now?” the girl asked fretfully, adjusting Bane’s breathing mask for him; it had become somewhat crooked.

“I do believe so, yes,” Todo stated, though his confidence was shaken. He backed up a foot to let her work, watching how Zulara tended to his master carefully.

It was then Todo wobbled on his axis, believing himself to be tuckered out. For a droid to feel this way was like when organics suffered from lack of sleep. He could not remember the last time he had plugged in, knowing that his power supply was finally dwindling. “I do not feel so good,” he reluctantly admitted.

“What?” Zulara appeared alarmed, turning now upon the droid. He placed his feet down on the ground - too much time spent hovering was another drain on his internal generator – knowing he had only a few minutes left.

“It is not..hi..ng…to worry a..bo..ut,” Todo’s speech came out garbled and slowed down, “I am in need of a re..ch..ar..ge…There is a sta..tion…do..wn the ha.ll.”

Bane’s companion’s eyes flickered, like two glowing yellow fireflies, flashing her at intervals. What would she do without him? What if Bane woke up again? She ran to his aid as he began a make his way, albeit awkwardly.

“You can’t leave me! What if the tank malfunctions, or what if Bane has another nightmare!” Zulara begged of him.

“Bane will most likely be remain un..con..scious for se..veral hours n..ow,” he tried to reassure, his tiny, robotic hands trailing the wall to his right side; his eyesight was no longer reliable, and he had to feel for it: the door that would lead him to his charging bay where he would gladly sit and wait to be replenished. “Do not wor..ry, he is safe. You can always ca..ll… Bo…ba.” He could not believe he was saying this.

“Are you sure? But I don’t want to call him!” Zulara argued, watching as Todo ambulated toward another room. It was the place with all their tools, the one she had been searching for. Todo had nearly made it to his recharge station when he stopped dead.

“Todo?” Zulara whimpered.

There was no response; he had lost all power.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x OC #Cad Bane x Original Characters #Star Wars #Bad Batch #Clone Wars #TCW #BOBF #Book of Boba Fett #Star Wars OC #Twi'lek species #Todo 360 #Boba Fett #Jango Fett #Flashbacks #Nightmares #Lost Bounty Hunter Arc #My writing

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echo-lover · 11 months

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Hello there!

A few of my favorite Star Wars headcanons about clones

• Parental instinct

I've noticed that some clones have a highly developed paternal instinct.

I think Cut with his little family is not only one.

Hunter showed concern for childrens safety from the very beginning, like Kaleb and Gungi (surviving Wookie Jedi). He looks after Omega like his own daughter, as do the rest of the Bad Batch. Hunter definitely plays the role od father in his team as a responsible and a little overprotective leader.

Echo is the most mature in my opinion and in my eyes he will always be a mommy.

Waxer immediately felt the need to care for the newly met child and had no problem with hugging or comforting little Numa when she started crying. I just know that he loved children and secretly dreamed of starting a family, but he put himself entirely at being a soldier and protecting those who can not protect themselves.

Even Boil had grown strong bond owith Numa after some time and wanted to protect her at all costs.

I think Rex would also make a great father figure. He felt a strong need to take care of others. He acted as a mentor or an older brother for Ahsoka, and when he met Omega, he immediately got in touch with her. It's worth mentioning how he immediately stood between her and Bad Batch when he found out that the boys hadn't removed their chips yet. He remembered perfectly well what happened during Order 66. I'm sure he felt guilty that he had almost executed his longtime friend who trusted him with all her heart. He also felt responsible for his brothers who died in this tragic event.

I think this paternal instinct comes straight from Jango Fett's genes, who cared for Boba and loved him, and adopt him as his son. Jango asked specifily for him and knew from the very beggining that he want to adopt this kid. The Mandalorian culture is known for being easily attached to children, and they often decided to adopt kids, as fathers and mothers, and raise them like their own.

• Overprotective Hunter

Hunter is, in my opinion, the most sensitive and emotionally mature of the Bad Batch. He can read the feelings of others, especially those closest to him, so he always knew when something was wrong. Perhaps his enhanced senses have something to do with this.

He also has a tendency to be overprotective.

As a leader, he put the good of the squad before his own. I'm sure that running and hiding from the Empire, the constant pressure on his shoulders, was very tiring for him.

Hunter tried to protect Omega and his brothers the best way he could. That's why, the loss of any member of his family was a hard shoot in the heart for him. He sees it as a personal failure, as he failed his loved ones. He may start to think that Crosshair's words as true, that maybe he shouldn't be the leader, but he hasn't told anyone about his feelings and his own doubts.

But I think Echo knew... Echo knew that Hunter was worried and tired of the constant responsibility.

• Hunter and his senses

Hunter is a synesthete. This means that what he feels with one of his senses also affects the others. For example: he sees sounds, he can taste colors or numbers have colors for him. His synesthesia is a side effect of his enhanced senses.

Due to his heightened senses, Hunter also felt pain more intense than the other clones.

I still remember the moment Omega snuggled up to him after rescuing her when she was kidnapped by Cad Bane. Hunter winced in pain for a moment as his chest wound still was fresh. He had been shot with a blaster and almost get himself k!lled, and yet the most important thing to him was Omega. He ignored his own discomfort and focused fully on Omega, making sure nothing happened to his little girl. The expression of pain quickly turned into relief.

• Family

Some time after Omega joined the Bad Batch, they agreed on the role of family members:

Omega is their little sister, of course Hunter play the role of a father, while Echo is hailed as a mother. Our grumpy little bean muttered something about this being stupid idea at first, but in the end he liked being called mommy Echo.

Echo is a great addition to this crazy squad. He is the most experienced and can keep his family in line. It will never stop to amaze me how much good and love is hidden in the heart of a man who has never known a moment of comfort in his life and to whom no one has ever shown love. His physical and mental health were very bad after the events at Skako Minor. There was almost nothing left of the inexperienced Reg from the 501st Legion. Despite this, he will always remain my favorite character in all of Star Wars universe.

Wrecker is basically a second baby and needs to be looked after more than Omega, because if you let him out of your sight for a moment, he'll probably make a big mess.

Wrecker had the mind of a child trapped in the body of a large man. He is strong and could cause fear, but he have a soft heart. He cared for those closest to him, especially Omega. When his little sister was having a bad day and was sad, Wrecker was the first to make her laugh and even shared Lula, his beloved doll, with her.

I like to think that Tech and Crosshair are sort of twins (like Echo and Fives) they're a great duo and I miss their interaction so much. Tech, as the wise one, did not get in the way of the others, offering his advice when needed. Crosshair, on the other hand, although he seems cold and very distant, I think he would quickly like Omega and become a supportive, slightly sarcastic brother to her.

• Crosshair is not as cold as he looks

Crosshair hated being different, and called a freak from the very beggining. All his life he tried to blend in, to do his job well as a soldier, and as a member of the team. He didn't show it, but he was touched by other people's words about their group, different look, and specific abilities. That's why he hated Regs so much, he wanted to prove his worth to them. And also to himself.

When I saw Crosshair for the first time, I thought that he must have quite low self-esteem and become nervous in stressful situations. Whenever he took off his helmet, we saw him immediately reach for a toothpick. He felt the need to have something in his mouth to relieve the stress and tension in his body. He always seemed to me to be the type of perfectionist who pays great attention to detail and will practice until he achieves perfection in a specific field.

Despite his specific style, Crosshair wasn't as cold as he seemed. He really cared about Omega, and I'm sure that if they had the chance to spend more time together, Crosshair would like the girl and treat her like his little sister. He will destroy anyone who tries to harm Omega.

I also think that Crosshair secretly loves animals, especially cats. I imagined that it started with Wrecker once bring a white, homeless kitten to the Marauder. The animal started fawning at Crosshair's legs and refused to leave him even for a second. In the end, Cross liked it, petted him and cuddled with him, and even let him sleep in bed with him. Having a pet was a stress reliever for him. He named his kitten Alpine.

• The past still hurts, just as much as before

Echo often had terrible nightmares. We can see in the Bad Batch, that his PTSD was still very strong. Every contact with medical equipment could trigger a severe panic attack and anxiety. Fortunately, Omega was there to support him at the time. I'm always touched that even though Echo didn't know Omega back then, he trusted her enough that her presence really helped him come back to reality and understand that he was safe.

I'm sure that he had nightmares about being tortured and locked at Skako Minor, and also dreamed of Fives. I think because of this he may have even been afraid to fall asleep, and as a result he slept very little.

He missed his brother so much and blamed himself for not being there when he died. Echo was afraid of being locked up and deprived of help, so he tried to get involved as much as possible in the fight against the Empire. I think that was one of the main reasons he went back to Rex.

I also think that Echo and Tech had long conversations and spent a lot of time together while repairing or piloting the ship. They got along the best of the whole team and only with Tech, Echo felt relaxed enough to be able to talk about his feelings and problems he was struggling with. Tech never asked, like the overprotective Hunter, he just listened, and that was enough for Echo to discover a soul mate similar to his fallen brother, Fives.

I imagine one night Tech found out that Echo couldn't sleep and asked him what happened. Echo was so surprised that someone actually asked him how he felt that he didn't know what to say at first. He finally decided to open up and confess what was on his mind. Tech understood him and they became very close from then on. That's why Echo suffered so much after losing Tech. He felt as if he had lost half of his soul again.

I imagine that, Echo was the only one from the Bad Batch to still use Mando'a. He and Fives used to speak this language among themselves. Fives nicknamed him Ech'ika (little Echo). Now, Echo used to call Omega ad'ika. After Fives death, Echo sang an old anthem - Vode an (Brothers all) to honor the memory of his fallen brother. They had learned it when they were still cadets and used to sing it together before going into battle and all 501st knew the lyrics. This is one of my favorite headcanons.

I'm sure that Echo got a tattoo of a five in honor of Fives' death. In this way he always carried his brother with him and wanted to honor his memory.

• Nightmares

Omega took a while to get used to her new home after leaving Kamino. I imagine she often had nightmares that made her afraid to go to sleep alone. Hunter saw that and let the little girl sleep with him. He told her some stories about the planets they had visited on missions, and the bond between them grew stronger. He didn't admit it, but he had fond memories of those times together.

• Fives and his twin

If Fives survived, he would be the first to side with Rex to save Echo. Seeing his beloved brother alive, but connected to computer and badly hurt, he would be both happy and devastated at the same time. Fives would do absolutely anything to be reunited with his beloved twin, even if the whole Galaxy was against him and thought he's crazy.

After being rescued, Fives would make sure Echo was fewling comfortable and help him overcome his PTSD episodes. Then he would join the Bad Batch with Echo, because he didn't wanted him to feel different. Despite some problems, the Bad Batch accepted them as their own and they became very close, like family. I pictured them sitting around fire and how they shared stories from various missions together.

Then Fives saw that Echo was trully happy. He hugged him close, and when Echo asked what happened, Fives simply replied, "I'm just happy you're here, vod'ika. That's all."

• Astronomy lesson

Tech taught Omega astronomy. How to read sky maps and name constellations. They often sat together at night, watching the sky. Hunter would get a little angry when they stay up too late, fearing that both his brother and little sister would be sick, but his anger faded quickly when he saw the smile on Omega's face. Papa Hunter would do anything to make his little girl happy.

• Two captains

Howzer is Rex's twin, like Fives and Echo. They are giving the same vibe. They trained together from an early age, still as cadets, and then the war separated them. They are also very similar in character. Courageous and great leaders, they do not abandon their people until the very end. I feel they would get along pretty well.

• Brothers for life

Cody was like an older brother to Rex. His ore'vod. He trusted him the most of all the clones.They were inseparable from the beginning of the war and became very close after the Umbara ARC. I imagine Cody was comforting a devastated Rex. He knew perfectly well that under the mask of captain's determination there was a lot of pain and suffering after loss of many brothers. They were both good people who saw a lot of evil and death in their lives. They carried mourning in their hearts and finaly were able tolet go all their emotions. It was the first time Rex had let tears flow in his brother's arms. He felt loved and safe, and Cody didn't let him go for a long time. From this moment, they looked at each other a bit differently, carefully analyzing the other's emotions and making sure that everything was okay. Besides being strong and serious leaders, they were caring and loving brothers on the inside.

Also, I just know that they were having small competition. The 501st and 212th were competing against each other as to which legion/batalion was more effective in combat. General Kenobi and Anakin secretly supported this fun game.

• Suffering medic

Kix put a lot of pressure on himself as a medic. He wanted to save as many lives as possible and not let a single soldier die. He always fought to the very end, refusing to rest until the last man was healed. Each death of his brother was equally painful for him and he treated it as a personal failure.

Umbara left a huge mark on him. He failed. So many of his brothers had fallen, and he worked until he was breathless. Only when he was so exhausted, that he could no longer stand on his own, he agreed to take a break.

Kix sat alone against the wall, looking at his hands, and cried quietly. His hands and armor were covered with the blood of his brothers. Some of them were badly hurt, others didn't make it. Kix wished he were in their place right now and felt guilty. It was hard for him to be the one that survived.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, but at one moment he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a calm voice that he recognized immediately. It was Jesse. His best friend, his brother... Jesse told him that he did everything he could, that it wasn't his fault, but Kix wasn't convinced.

Then Jesse, seeing how bad his brother's condition was, that he started shaking, without thinking much, he wrapped his arms around Kix, pulling him into a tight hug. The medic did not protest and gave vent to his emotions and helplessness. It was the first time anyone was interested in his health. He had always been responsible for others and now someone was taking care of him. It felt nice, warm... Kix hugged back his brother and they both know that they feel the same way.

#clone wars #bad batch #headcanon #clones #captain rex #commander cody #hunter bad batch #tbb echo #tech bad batch #tbb crosshair #captain howzer #star wars #headcanons #family #brothers in arms

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levi-venn · 5 months

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The First Toothpick

Chapter 1: The Kid

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Characters: Cad Bane, Jango Fett, Crosshair (the kid).

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Available on AO3 here

Cad Bane will do any job...for a price.

But, there was a time when he’d do anything for Jango Fett for free.

Those days are long gone.

The last time Cad saw Jango was on Nar Shaddaa; some seedy dive cantina where blaster bolts and blood flowed as freely as the cheap liquor.

It was over their second pitcher of shitty beer that Jango told Cad he was leaving bounty hunting, the greater galaxy, leaving everything behind.

He said something about a classified government assignment with a big payout.

All Cad heard was that Jango was leaving him behind.

“Kraytspit, boss,” Cad snarled, shoving an index into that armored chest. “You taught me ‘Fuck the Establishment’ and now what, you’re joinin' some government program? Just like that? Fuck you." And then Cad said words that Jango taught him, "And fuck The Man."

The argument got heated. Glass shattered. Fists brandished. Blasters were never drawn, but a spattering of Cad and Jango’s blood was added to the cantina’s décor.

That was years ago, but it wasn’t ancient history.

Not to Cad.

Now Jango’s got the balls to send me a message after all this time? Using words like “personal favor” and “old friend"?

Cad should’ve told him to swallow a cactus.

Instead he set a course for Kamino.

You’re gettin’ soft, nerfpoke, he chided himself. Then again, never did have a clear head where Jango was concerned, did ya?

The Justifier’s ramp clanged against the disc platform outside the Kaminoan Facility and the knot in Cad’s stomach tightened. He wasn't ready to see Jango again, no matter how quickly he punched those coordinates in. Yet, there he was, a dark silhouette at the end of the bridge.

Waiting for him.

The storm roared its unwelcoming song as he approached his former mentor. With every step, raging winds threatened to toss him into the inky, frothing ocean below like an angry gambler swiping a losing hand off a sabacc table. He clicked his heels, activating the magnetic sensors on his boots and he pale-knuckled the wide brim of his hat and walked across the bridge.

His swagger never wavered.

It never does.

Cad gritted his fangs as the barrage of rain needled his skin anywhere his duster and hat couldn’t protect. Jango, meanwhile, was bone dry, leaning against the wall under the lip of the facility's domed roof, arms folded across his armored chest. His helmet obscured his face, but Cad could feel the sly smile behind that reflective T-visor. He always did give Cad shit for not handling the cold too well.

In fact, Cad didn’t know what a “season” was when he left - escaped - the temperate climate of Duro. Didn’t take him long to figure out he kriffin’ hated “monsoon season” and “winter” the most.

“Long time,” Cad said, refusing to stammer as the icy wind clung to his bones.

“Didn’t have to be. You know that,” Jango said, the soft, stern tone apparent through the vocoder. “I told you then I wanted you to join me here.”

“And I told you where to stick it. Whole point of being a freelancer is the ‘free’ part, Fett. What kind of life are you living here?”

“I didn’t ask you here to lecture me on what freedom is, Cad. You’re here for a job.”

“What’s the catch?” Cad asked.

“No catch. You’re the best and that’s what I need.”

Cad smirked. “Flattery don’t work so well on me.”

“No? That’s funny, used to be the only way I could get you to do anything.” Jango removed his helmet, and that disarming grin unraveled the knot in Cad’s gut far too quickly. “Times have changed, I guess.”

“A lot’s changed,” Cad said, stubbornly.

That kriffin’ charismatic smile hasn't changed, has it? It could still ask Cad to do anything. If Jango jumped into a Sarlaac Pit, Cad would do a swan dive right after him.

But those days are over…weren’t they?

Jango punched the control panel beside him and the door opened to a brightly lit corridor. Cad refused to hurry as he walked into the facility, shaking off the rain from his hat and duster with an annoyed scoff.

“Nice digs,” he said, popping a toothpick in his mouth. “Blinding white is really your color.”

“Hey, thanks,” Jango said, not taking the bait. “I keep telling the Kaminoans to add a few potted plants, maybe a Max Reebo poster or two, but they never listen.”

Despite Cad’s desire to keep his head down as the intense lights assaulted his retinas, he still stole glances at his former mentor as they walked.

Mentor…

...Former starsdamn hero…

...Jango got old.

Cad hated the way humans aged, always wearing their mortality on their sleeves. Wrinkled skin, graying hair, even their voices waned and cracked like a mud puddle drying in the summer sun. Jango only had a few laugh lines, crow's feet, a little silver in his hair, but to Cad it was broadcasted that Jango was getting old.

...and so was he.

Still, none of these aged additions bothered him nearly as much as the change in Jango’s eyes.

They glittered with warmth. With happiness. Comfort.

“You look tired,” Cad mumbled the lie.

Fuck him for being happy without Cad.

“You worried about me, Bane?” Jango teased.

“Just saying, if you’re here to beg me to rescue you, we’re going the wrong way.” He jerked his long thumb behind him. “Ship’s that way.”

“Believe it or not, I’m good here.”

“Sure,” Cad sneered. “You always did talk about retiring in a sterile medical facility surrounded by violent storms.”

“I have a son, Cad,” Jango said, in an infuriatingly light tone.

Cad froze. The toothpick broke in two between his fanged teeth. He spat it out onto the pristine floor. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“The Kaminoans here contracted me for a classified assignment. I told them I wouldn’t do it for less than a krayt-sized hoard of credits and a son created with my DNA.”

Cad shook his head in disbelief. “So you’re raising a little you, then?”

Jango shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. Boba does seem to have the best parts of me, but it’s not by design. He’s just a genuinely good kid. I don’t know how that’s possible. I was a little hellion.”

So was Cad. He wasn't that much younger than Jango when the Mando took him under his wing, but Cad felt like a bumbling kid and twice as stubborn as a reek.

“Cad, you gotta relax or you’ll miss your target every time,” Jango says. It was the fifth time he said this. It was the tenth bottle Cad had missed.

Jango’s tone never changes, though. Always a little gruff. Always a little gentle. Unwaveringly insistent.

"I’m calm, boss!” The duros snarled, his hat sinking slightly over bulbous red eyes.

“Oh yeah.” Jango snorted. “You sound real calm.” He placed a warm hand on Cad’s bony shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous. And I’m not just talking about here and now, shooting bottles off a fence. I’m talking about life in general. It’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let your brain dictate what those hands are going to do.” Jango tapped his temple, then held up a calm hand. “Screaming mind. Cool hand. You master that and you’ll be unstoppable. Now take a deep breath, aim, exhale, and squeeze that trigger.”

“Maybe you just needed a patient mentor,” Cad mumbled.

“I heard your old boss was really patient,” Jango said.

Cad’s heart sank and he gave a little shrug, something he hadn’t done since before he added the “Bane” to his name.

“I missed you, too, Cad.”

“Fuck you,” Cad grumbled, but there was no bite to the words.

Jango led Cad through a complex labyrinth that was damn impossible to navigate.

“Is there anything you can tell me about what you’re doing here?” Cad asked, feeling like he’s walking through the gullet of some angelic serpent. “Kaminoans are cloners, I know that much. So…they’re cloning you? A lot?”

“Yes,” Jango said.

“And they grew you a son.”

“Yes.”

Cad rankled. “How many of ‘you’ are they making?”

“That’s classified.”

“Are they making mercenaries?”

Jango thought for a moment. “More organized than that.”

“Soldiers, then. For who?”

“That’s classified.”

“You’re really okay with them using your face, and your everything, to make soldiers?”

“Like I said, the pay is insane and I have a son.” Jango flashed him a smirk. “If you join me here, I’ll tell you everything in excruciating detail, including why I wanted to stay.”

“Never,” Cad growled, gut twisting again.

Jango’s easy smile slid off his face, his eyes lingering as if only now he realized Cad would never change his mind.

Cad couldn’t bear looking at Jango like this. “Just tell me about the job.”

“Alright.”

Jango pressed a control panel in an alcove Cad hadn’t noticed moments before. The wall slid open to an observation deck overlooking an artificial combat zone made to look like a war-torn village. Plenty of places to hide, plenty more blind spots. Dangerous and advantageous for a sniper that knew what they were doing.

“The facility has designed a squad of experimental clones, trained to be elite combatants. One of them is designed to be a sniper. I want you to train him.”

In the center of the village was a lone tower. Combat droids were starting to swarm around it.

“You can’t train him yourself? You’re the one who taught me how to shoot.” Cad noticed a silhouette move around atop the tower, a sniper blaster rifle peeking its muzzle out like the snout of a curious creature, then withdrawing again. No shot was fired.

Hesitation.

Not good.

“I did, but we both know you can shoot rings around me when it comes to a sniper blaster rifle. I wouldn’t trust this assignment to anyone but you.”

“I ain’t a teacher,” Cad pressed.

“He doesn’t need one. He needs…” Jango thought for a moment. “A role-model.”

Cad laughed and popped another toothpick in his mouth. “Oh yeah, I’m a real upstanding citizen.”

“See? I knew I could count on you.”

Cad rolled his eyes. “So who is this grunt?”

“CT-9904.”

Cad frowned. "That ain’t a name.”

“It’s his designation. It’s what they use here.”

Cad lifted the brim of his hat, watching the blaster rifle peek out again and fire a blast.

A droid went down.

The muzzle poked out another hole.

Two blaster bolts fired, two droids fall.

Every shot fired found it's mark, but it wasn't enough to thin out the herd of droids.

“He’s got a good eye, but he’s taking too long to take those shots,” Cad observed.

“Remind you of anyone?” Jango asked.

“Take the shot, Cad.”

“I will! I just need to-”

An air horn blared beside Cad’s ear. The blaster bolt hit the tree, several feet above the target.

“What the fuck, boss?!”

Jango tossed the air horn cheekily in the air. “Stop hesitating. Take the shot or don’t, but this lollygagging isn't going to save your skin on a hunt.”

“Fine…just stop firing that damn airhorn.”

“Alright, alright. Here," Jango tucked the air horn in his belt and held up his empty hands. "I’m done with it. Take the shot whenever you’re ready.”

Cad lined his shot up again. But…

…What if he misses?

What if he’ll never be good at this? Not like Jango.

Jango was perf-

The airhorn bellows overhead. Cad nearly drops the rifle.

“Jango!!”

“C’mon, do you think your bounty will stop firing at you if you ask nicely? Work through the distractions. Ignore the voice filling your head with thoughts of failure. We’re out here until you land ten hits on that target. This is non-negotiable. And you better hurry, that storm’s getting closer by the minute.”

Cad’s rifle shook, already feeling the bitter wind attacking his senses.

“You got this, Cad…” Jango said, nudging Jango’s elbows, gently reminding him to keep them close to his body. “...I wouldn’t be teaching you if I didn’t believe in your greatness.”

CT-9904 managed to take down a dozen droid, but two dozen more were climbing the tower. The blaster rifle’s muzzle poked in and out of the slits in the tower too quickly to be effective. He was panicking.

Jango pressed a button on the control panel.

“Simulation Over .” The droids powered down, falling off the tower into heaps on the tile floor.

“CT-9904,” Jango called through the comm. “Report to Control.”

Cad braced himself to see a copy of Jango emerge from the tower. Would he act like Jango? Would he have Jango’s memories? Jango knew Cad better than any humanoid alive...would this clone, too?

The answer came in a resounding "No" in the shape of a skinny kid with a shock of white hair dressed in a blue and red jumpsuit. He slid down the ladder, hopping lightly over the droid bodies, and bounding towards the lift.

“Dank farrik, Jango. You’re making kid soldiers here?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Jango replied.

“Complicated how?”

“I bet you can get what I'm going to say”

“Classified. Right.”

The door slid open and the kid peeked in before entering the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the Duros.

Despite being Duros, Cad had spent most of his adult life around a variety of humanoids, most of them human. Cad could’ve picked this kid out of a lineup as Jango’s spawn, but…he didn’t look like a copy.

Experimental clones…right.

“CT-9904 is part of a special operation of elite warriors. He’s our finest sniper.”

“The best sniper in the facility,” the kid said, with a voice surprisingly raspy, like he smoked a pack of deathsticks before coming up here. The kid's sarcasm came through loud and clear though, like he had heard others call him the best sniper in the facility.

Doesn't mean he believes it himself.

The kid kept his eyes lowered, one fist clenched, the other white knuckling the strap of his sniper rifle, a version of the 773 Firepuncher augmented to accommodate for this scrawny child.

None of this felt right.

But this was a job, and…it was at Jango’s request.

“You’re welcome to any training room here. Any weapons you need are at your disposal. Droids too.”

Cad shook his head. “No.”

The kid and Jango both looked up at Cad with the same confusion.

“No?” Jango asked.

“Not going to train him here. You want me to show him the ropes, he’s gotta have a taste of what the galaxy is like out there.”

“He can’t leave the facility.”

The kid looked up at Jango, his eyes wide and round, maybe out of fear...

Or maybe he's hoping to get out and see the galaxy for a change.

“Says who?” Cad challenged.

“Says…uh...fuck…I don’t know, Cad. He’s property of the facility.”

Cad rankled.

Property? Who the fuck is Jango anymore?

Cad took his toothpick out to point at Jango emphatically. “Those are my terms, take ‘em or find yourself another sniper with skills as good as mine.” He flicked the toothpick against Jango's armor. It plinked musically before hitting the ground. “Good luck with that," he sneered.

The kid was now looking up at Cad with those large, owl-like eyes, but they were joined by a sneer of his own.

Jango sighed. “Fine. You’ll be compensated for any credits you spend, just…don’t take him to the Canto Bight race tracks, okay? I want daily reports. You return him when I say it's time to come back.”

"You have my word," Cad said. And he meant it.

The kid looked up at Jango. “Can I say bye to Tech first?”

Jango ignored the request. “Thanks for doing this, Cad.”

“I’m doing it for the credits.”

Jango sighed. “Don’t hold back on him. He can handle whatever you throw at him.”

“You never pulled punches,” Cad said, dryly. “Don’t reckon I would either.”

“I can handle it,” the raspy kid echoed, throwing Cad a dangerous look unlike worn by Jango's face.

But Cad knew that look all too well: The look of a frightened predator.

#the bad batch #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #cad bane #jango fett #bad batch crosshair #The First Toothpick

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echoedcrosshairs · 11 months

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Just Cad / Cad Bane x F Reader

After reading @sinisterexaggerator post about Cad being depressed it gave me a angst/fluff idea if you haven’t read it you should & @dreamswithghosts for gif

Summary: After pairing with you Bane kept you around, one day he drops you off realizing he made a grave mistake seeing you take a bounty with the last people he ever wants to see again.

/ Bad Batch Era Bane / ~> might rewrite and develop more but idk

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Rough Cowboy & Cuddly Cowboy, mild adult subject. PG-13

Word count: 3.1k

After completing the score, Bane had grown more quiet than normal. He was already a man of a few words but the silence was heavy in the air, even Todo had been quietly sitting in his copilot chair. It hadn't been a high stakes bounty or a high profile case, it was open and closed the closes one would get to easy money in this line of work. You spun your chair in a circle groaning before getting up and wrapping your arms around the silent Duros keeping yourself under his hat not to knock it off. Smelling the familiar blaster traces and leather on him, he didn't even try to pry you off.

"Okay, Cowboy, what is it?" you asked letting the concern lace your voice.

"Nuff'in."

"Cad Bane, don't you lie to me," you said pulling yours arms off him staring down at the brim of his hat, "What is it? Bounty too boring? Let's find any another to do."

"Dat ain't it."

"So tell me!" you said impatiently.

"Droppin you off."

Your blood ran cold, time stood still looking down at him and it was if reality was breaking, "For how long?" his silence was answer enough. You went back to your seat but you couldn't sit still, your leg bounced wildly. You got up headed to the bunk room, you looked down at his bunk shaking your head grabbing your stuff off the top bunk and mini closet. Both of you weren't a couple but why did it hurt like a break up? You thudded your ahead against the shelf of the bunk trying to pull yourself together. Sure there had been moments where glances lasted longer than they should have or nights where a little to much was drank that opened him up to talk or maybe the occasional hug to the man you considered a friend. Thought was, you mentally corrected, but was never more than that so why was he kicking you out? You wanted to demand answers but you knew once he made up his mind that was it.

You unholstered his LL-30 copy you had on for the bounty just incase nothing had gone to plan, you laid it on his bunk not having enough strength to face him. Bane was a cold blooded killer, most would consider this a blessing but you knew him deeper down than most there was still a person underneath those sharp teeth and crimson eyes. For a man who had it all, the title of the best, the first pick of any bounty he the fear and respect that came along with that there was always something under the surface the loomed over him that you couldn't describe other than lonesome.

You took yourself down to the ramp bay with the two duffels in tow. Minutes went by, you heard the metal of his respirator and the click of his boots against the floor, "I still don't understand why..." you paused to take a deep breath, "I guess I'll see you when I see you, Cowboy," you uttered at his shadow waiting by the ramp.

"Ya betta off."

"I'm better off? I'm better off with the one person I trust."

"Dat's a weakness a cute lil lady likya can' afford."

You turned to him gawking, "Bane did you just call me cute?"

"Ya know whatta mean'" he grumbled looking at you, "ain't this no place for ya." His skin crawled at the hurt in your features and the surprise at the comment, she don' know... he realized. He exhaled, "Missy, ya gotten too close to ma, I don' wancha gettin hurt over meh ya can' ghet close to people in dis profession."

"That should be my decision, Bane..." you looked down to see the ramp lowering you stood at the top of it not wanting to crumble, "You hear me, Cad, I love you," your stomach fell at the confession and it took every ounce of strength to hold it together as you walked down, "Just so you know someone in this universe does."

Bane quickly hit the ramp button the moment you were off, he leaned against the wall supporting himself. He allowed himself a few tears instantly regretting it when Todo showed up.

"Mr. Bane you are crying," Todo said worried.

"No kiddin" Bane grumbled pulling himself up by the boot scraps.

"You should go-" Todo started before Bane cut in, "Quit ya yappin, da woman is a risk."

"A risk to your heart maybe," Todo said sourly.

"What was dat?" Bane growled.

"You don't let anyone close anymore, it was obvious how you felt about each other."

Banes fingers found the metal plate on his head, "Lets go, Todo," no one knew him not really or what was going on in his head, left for dead on one of his bad days by so called colleagues. He wanted to spat at the memory of falling and Boba. If they didn't understand him to see what was wrong no one would. Being abandoned by Jango, he didn't want to go through that again but ain't dat what I just did to 'er...? Bane frustratedly kicking the wall, "Dang nabbit," he gridded out at how hard he had kicked it.

"Mr. Bane, I do insist you go fix this," Todo said putting his hands on his hips floating himself to Bane's eye level, "before she gets to far."

"Shut it, droid. 'I know wat I'm do'in."

"I don't think you do if your kicking your precious ship."

Bane growled stalking back off to the cockpit and slumped into the set staring out the window finding you walking away. His eyes trailed you until you were no longer visible as you disappeared deep into the streets. A familiar ache formed in his chest causing his finger to drum against the armrest of the chair, he wanted to take off and continue but he couldn't bring himself to start the ship. Bane had forgotten to shut off the alert for when you got to far from him, it dinged almost causing him to jump. He looked down seeing a bounty rooster with your name on it, drat woman you haven' been gone fora hour, his frozen blood boiled seeing who you were signed up with.

"She don' know 'em," he seethed seeing both Boba's and Bossk's names along with a couple other less noticeable hunters names.

"You did terminate your partnership with her, Mr. Bane," Todo pointed out, "It's only natural she continues with others. However if we retrieve her..."

"Can' care 'bout er," Bane affirmed but didn't make it any easier then he saw Embo's name on the list, "Ya getting ya way this once," he growled getting up heading into the bunk room eyes narrowing on the blaster, "She ain't even armed," he hissed holstering it.

"We will find the annoying mammal," Todo hated having her around causing Bane to split his attention but he seemed more like his old self having her around.

"Betta find her fast before dey leave."

Info fob took you to a run down busted cantina that definitely shouldn't have had their license to operate but it was the perfect out of sight place for Hunters to met up, which you suspected is the only reason the establishment was still open. You didn't know anyone from the list but you easily picked them out in the small crowd clustered in the back and the anxious looking people around them. You slide into booth introducing yourself, all of them glared at you.

"Is there something on my face?" You asked nervously.

"Nothing," the one called Boba's say, "Didn't realize your ball would give you enough chain to be by yourself without him."

"Bane...?" You asked stupidly which got a stupid reply of yes, "We're not a team anymore, he dropped me here and is probably long gone."

Boba hitched an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"What does he need with a geek like me anyway, he has that droid anyway."

"We should get going, Bossk is going to meet up with us on the ship." All of you got up after Boba following him to the ship dock. You didn't even think twice about it even with Boba's connotation about Bane made it seem like they were less that associates it would be off whatever world this was.

Shuffling into the seat you heard the Trandoshan's breathing and turned around watching him stroll in sniffing, "I recognizess your ssmell but I don't recognizess you."

You rolled your eyes greeting him with your name and your former partner, "Is it really that big of a deal?" you muttered to yourself.

"Only to a select few."

Before you took off you saw it, the Justifier still docked and a blue figure staring straight at you. No one else seemed to noticed him in the distance and the ship took off towards everywhere the assignment was. You hadn't even bothered checking other then it was off planet. You fidgeted in your seat trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Whatss iss it?" Bossk hissed.

"I feel... like we're being followed... I can't explain it."

"Bane," Boba growled, "Anyone want to say hi?" he said sarcastically before the ship got one single blast.

Your pad started beeping, "Are you farking kidding me?" you grumbled pulling it out staring at it, Ghet back on da ship, now, 'You made me leave,' you replied, "Let's go."

Boba punched it, hitting light speed to get out of there, "What did he want?"

"Me," you mumbled. You pulled your legs up to your chest wrapping your arms around them letting your head slump against the seat. You eyed the room discreetly, feeling dejected but wondering why he didn't want you around them if that was what this was about. Your pad went off again, I'm comin, don' trust'em.

"I take it you don't know?" Boba said.

"Don't know what?"

"Bane was one of my mentors. Absolutely cruel to me; irony because my father was his mentor. One day while we were out on a bounty, Bane didn't care about how we went about it or if we even completed it. Him and I dueled for leadership, he lost and somehow lived."

"Oh..." you had wondered about the metal plate, remembering how every time you asked how belligerent he got especially after a couple drinks. You were very aware of Bane's temper and ruthless but unlike them you understood there had to be a deeper reason, at least there had to be... right? "Well he's coming," you didn't know what else to say. You saw the silent conversation between Bossk and Boba wondering if you were about to catch in the crossfire, "What's the plan?"

"We'll see what he does when we land."

The moment you land hell erupts you and boba barely getting off the ramp finding Bane there guns drawn glaring, "Wan'da little lady, hand'er over," he was staring directly at Boba. If his eyes weren't already crimson they would have been with the rage rolling off of him. His pinky tapped against the butt of the gun waiting, he wanted to look at you but didn't want a distraction in cause this went south.

"We're busy," Boba glared Bossk and Embo following standing behind us, "You're the one who's going to hurt her Bane, not us," Boba added.

"Bessst be leaving," Bossk hissed.

"Gimme the girl an' I'll be gone," he watched fangs bared as Bossk pointed his blaster at your head and it was not on stun, "Don' dink 'bout it."

"Bane..." fear laced your voice as much as you tried to hide it your eyes looking at the blaster then at him, "I don't know what's going on in your head but please, go."

"What ya said gave meh to much to dink'bout, so yer comin with meh," he exhaled calculating how fast he could shoot and drop them before they dropped you realizing his odds were good but not great.

"Cowboy, it's been a great ride... but for me, you have to go," we're you putting his safety over yours? The things people do in the name of love, by the look in his face you no one had ever done that for him.

He snarled looking at them but he backed into the shadows furious at himself for stepping away. He listened for what seemed forever when he heard one blaster shot ring out. Bane seethed fist curling around his pistols even more enraged that he let his emotions get the better of him m. He'd uncharacteristically shown his weakness the one thing he had tried to strengthen Boba against so he wouldn't make the same mistake his father did and they killed you for being his. Bane wanted to turn around, stand his ground and make them pay but the pleading in your voice for him to go kept him walking, He'd face worse odds before but there was a time and place for revenge.

"Mr. Bane?" Todo asked.

"Dey killed her," he said, his voice laced with defeat as he climbed back into the Justifer, alone.

"That sshould buy uss time," Bossk hissed.

"That farking hurt!" You snapped grabbing the wound, Embo already returning with the med kit.

"Had to make it convincing," Boba shrugged, "Complete this bounty, you won't need to worry about needing Bane to make a name for yourself."

"No but I'll have to worry about you sticking your neck out for me, we both know he'll be back with a vengeance," you had a choice, you could earn yourself the respect to work alone or you could keep them from waring each other.

Bane put a leg up on the dash letting the other bounce realizing how much of his life had fallen apart, mentor dead, person he considered a friend turned out to a Jedi in disguise, getting injured, losing a major bounty and now this. He stuck a toothpick between his teeth and set his hat in his lap wondering about the exactly moment everything went wrong.

"Mr. Bane! Look!" Todo said pointing the limping figure towards the ship.

Bane didn't look he put his hat back on and ran to the ramp, "Yer alive," he said dumb founded grabbing your limping form from the bottom of it.

"Don't make me regret un-faking my death," you gridded out the steps up the ramp causing the pain in your leg to make you grunt, "Already regret it," you groaned forcing yourself to sit down the moment you were up the ramp.

"Why'd ya do it?"

"Come back? I didn't want you blaming yourself, the bounty was tempting however," you admitted, "could have made a name for myself," you mumbled.

" 'gain why didn' ya?" Bane poked.

"Don't make me say it again," you groaned standing up finally feeling the patch start to work, "First time was bad enough," because it had, it had hurt to admit the truth. You never had the intention of telling him, happy to just let things be but there was rarely a moment you couldn't read him and standing there dropping you off there was nothing you understood then again trying to get you back the look on his face said he going to go down a war path he couldn't come back from and it would have been your fault if he got killed. You blinked as you felt his arm reach out and curl around you vice gripping you to his lean frame, "Bane?"

"Cad," he grumbled breathing in your scent no longer able to smell the iron over powering it, "just Cad."

You put your arms around him, not once had he ever voluntarily hugged you or hugged back, you felt his chest rumble almost like a pur. Your face nervously smiled not wanting to say anything, he tried to pull away but you pulled him closer listening to it, "I like it, although would be better without these," you said tapping the breathing tubes. He didn't even hesitate removing them dropping them to the floor before returning his arm around you. You seemed to melt closer to him, it sounded more authentic without the metal rattle.

His pulled his arm away, “Leave it,” he said looking down at the breathing piece tugging you by the hand to the cockpit, “Gotta gehet da ship outta here,” he said dropping your hand as he slide into the pilots seat.

Much to Todo’s hovering annoyance you took the copilot seat, “I hope you prematurely take off your patch.”

You rolled your eyes snatching the droid mid air and hugging him, “Careful lil fella, I might give ya an accent like Bane’s and make you sing,” you teased releasing the companion, you chuckling as that instilled the fear of the maker in him because he knew how good and fast you could reprogram him.

“Mr. Bane you’re not going to let her… right?!”

The Duros chuckled, “Maybeh.”

“I’m going to go lay down,” you yawned forgetting how draining the patches were. It didn’t take long before you heard foot steps behind you, stalking your movement to the bunk room.

“Don’ dink bout hopin up there,” he voiced watching you look up, “ ‘mer,” he said taking off his hat resting it on a post and climbed into the bunk. He watched you stare at him, “ ‘Mer, ain’t gonna bite ya,” he watched you climb in and he wrapped himself around you practically half laying on you. Life had broken him down, but thinking you were dead had destroyed him albeit temporarily. He felt your arm wrap around him feeling nails lightly in his back not lustful but in need of his solidarity. Bane’s lip twitched as that infernal purring started again.

“What do have you have to think about?”

“Ya really didn’ know how I feel?” He whispered.

It was weird seeing the bounty hunter who astutes confidence and authority in every moment seem so.. just human, “No. I never expected to see you again either.” The purring stopped replaced with a momentary growl, “Bane?” You said tilting your head to him, “What is it?” He was silent. “Cad?”

“Da feelin’ mutual,” he felt compelled to say after hearing his name on your lips. The purring started and he heard you make a small happy hmm noise. He didn’t need to say it, you both knew what he meant. “When it’s meh and you, it’s Cad.”

“Cad,” the name rolled off your tongue like expensive spotchka, “Only I get to call you?” he nodded. Your hand roamed his head gently and the other light stroked his back, “I don’t regret it anymore,” you teased, “so cowboy, what’s next?”

“For ya missy? Go ta’bed, wanna enjoy dis,” he said exhaling enjoying the scent of you and feel of you finally touching him, “Maybeh we go ta’beh,” he mumbled feeling heavier and suddenly tired.

“Let’s go to bed… Cad,” you smiled turning a little more into the blue space cowboy’s embrace hearing the pur slowly stop as both of you fell asleep.

#cad bane fic #cad bane x you #cad bane fanfic #cad bane x female reader #cad bane x f reader #cad bane x reader #space cowboy #cad bane thots #duros #duros x you #bad batch cad bane

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commanderfoxdeservesbetter · 2 years

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Hi, this might be kinda vague but like, what are your favorite Fox headcanons?

I’m so sorry for the late message 😭 but yesss I love this ask. Favorite Fox headcanons of mine are:

Fox goes to therapy

After the war, Fox needed to wear glsses because of how messed up his eyes were from the constant shifts and lack of sleep

Fox and Cody are best friends on Kamino

Thorn and Fox are best friends on Coruscant

Thorn and Cody have beef with each other because they think the other is stealing the best friend position when in reality, Fox considers them both as his best friends

Fox is originally left-handed but with the Kaminoans’ training, he never knew

Him and Cody once tried to run off Kamino but Alpha-17 caught them before they succeeded

He thinks all of Cody’s complaints about Obi-Wan and Anakin are just an exaggeration till he met Anakin

He truly thinks Anakin and Rex are a thing which he complains to Cody about because why does Rex have such bad taste??

He also thinks Anakin is Palps’ sugar baby so that doesn’t help their case

Fox and Thorn have created elaborate schemes to sabotage Anakin’s meetings with Palps so that their “relationship” will fail

Fox once dyed Thorn’s hair green as a prank

Fox can beat Cody in any fight as long as it’s fair but the minute shots are called to use dirty tactics, he loses within 5 minutes because Cody does not hold back on hair pulling, biting or crotch-kicks

Fox is scared of Bacara and Neyo

Not because they’re mean but because Fox once caught them fighting their Alpha and they were both bloody and bruised and laughing during the round

They still lost the round but Fox saw how at ease they were with the Alpha than with any of the other CCs

Fox is Cody’s twin - they share the title of oldest Vod but actually don’t know who is the oldest between them

Fox likes to annoy Cody and even employs the help of Rex, Anakin, Boil, Waxer, Thorn and several other Commanders to do so

He once did a prank (with the help of the Jedi) that the clones weren’t made from Jango Fett’s DNA but rather Cad Bane’s

He had Cody freaking out to why the clones looked like Cad Bane for two weeks before the jig was up

When fighting Wolffe, he will bite

He steals food from all the Commanders when they meet up

He has a favorite gun

Conveniently, it was originally Ponds’ but he stole it when Ponds was looking since it was one of the newer updates at the time

He’s good friends with Bail and has an underground black market for the GAR

Well, technically it’s Cody who’s in charge of it but he’ll pretend to be Cody to get stuff from the market

He goes undercover quite a lot

He did once as a civilian helping on a campaign with the 212th and made sure to annoy Cody as much as he could without giving away his position

He got shot in the shoulder once on a mission which is how he met Vos who found him

Fox and Quinlan have drinking competitions

Quinlan once stole all of Fox’s pillows and Fox put out an arrest for him due to that

Fox had blackout missions due to Palps constantly turning on his chip

He loses the person he used to be as the war goes on, to the point where Cody has a hard time hanging around him because he’s not the same

He is very pragmatic to the point where he is unlikable by the end of the war

His therapy sessions is mainly him trying to regain and focus back on emotions versus shutting them out and not feeling anything

He turns to Cody to be his conscience since he barely trusts himself to make the right decisions

Fox is afraid to be left alone for too long in fear that he will be abandoned again

Fox doesn’t talk much after the war nor does he play any pranks

My all time favorite Headcanon is Fox never dying but he has to learn how to live not only with himself, but in the world again

These are some of my favorite headcanons about Fox. I might add to this later

#star wars #tcw #commander fox #the clone wars #clone wars #commander thorn #commander cody #captain rex #the clone wars headcanons #tcw headcanons #commander fox headcanons

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silverwings22 · 2 months

Text

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 69: Need a Favor- Jelly Roll

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness Chapter warning: panic attack, profanity

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Next chapter:

“What is taking so long?” Rampart was a demanding, whiney thing when he wanted to be. They were waiting for a pickup, Phee having been kind enough to bring them to a rendezvous point, and the former admiral was making his opinion of it known. Loudly.

Miria was sitting on her helmet, leaning back on Crosshair’s shins. They were on Bora Vio, and she idly couldn’t help but think this was where they’d found Omega when they’d lost her the first time. When Cad Bane took her and Miria reached into the half-empty Force searching for her little light. She’d found Crosshair’s still there, her shining star despite the damage the Empire had done. “Was he this unpleasant when you worked for him?” She asked mildly.

Her husband had a section of her hair curled around his fingertips, eyes upturned searching for their ride. “You have no idea. He had an awful habit of interrupting every meal I tried to eat.”

She glanced up. “So you could immediately use your meals on Pabu for target practice.”

“You’re well aware you married a deeply flawed man.” He looked down at her, examining the stress on her face. She had a hand pressed against her chest. “You okay?”

“I will be.” She nodded. Her tactical mind was buzzing with ideas, each more ridiculous than the last. She had to come up with something brilliant, something that would save the girls and keep them all alive- “...I miss Tech.” She finally said. He’d have been able to help her plan. He’d have spotted a flaw in her idea before she finished saying it outloud.

“Me too.” He nodded, giving her a hand up as a shuttle appeared on the horizon. “There’s Echo.”

She kept her hand in his as the ship landed and opened, relief easing her tight breathing at the sight of her cyborg friend on the ramp. Wrecker kept a hand on Rampart as Hunter shook Echo’s hand, then Miria and Crosshair approached. “Good to see you guys.” He said shaking Crosshair’s hand too before pulling Miria into a one armed hug. “Your aunt has your parents. They’re all safe.”

“I wish it were better circumstances.” She said softly. “And good. I hated leaving them, but there was no time.”

“How are you guys holding up?” Echo looked over his shoulder, as Hunter went back to glaring holes in Rampart. “I can see he’s not.”

Crosshair put a hand on Miria’s shoulder. “About as well as you can expect with a missing four month old.”

Miria just nodded, stone-faced. If she said something, she’d crumple and she knew it. Omega had training with the Batch and an indomitable spirit that rivaled anyone, Jedi or Mandalorian, Miria had ever known. But Mayrin… Miria didn’t know what scared her more; not getting to see their daughter grow up or the idea that if they failed, Mayrin would never remember them and how much they loved her.

“C’mon. This stolen shuttle was the best I could do in a time crunch, and we’ll need to hurry before it’s reported.” Echo waved them to follow. “Supplies are inside. But are you sure we can trust this hydrosnake? ”

“I can hear you!” Rampart yelled from behind her.

“Absolutely not. But what choice do we have?” Miria murmured, and they headed up the ramp.

Wrecker shoved Rampart into a seat as Echo got them off the ground. Miria leaned on the wall beside him, glancing at Hunter’s clenched fists and Crosshair’s tight jaw. “Go over the information again.” She murmured, dragging her sharp violet gaze to Rampart.

“How many times do I have to tell you this?” He grumbled.

“Once more. Please.” She said quietly. “You’re the only one with the information, and we need to be thorough.”

“At least you have some semblance of manners. Tantiss was designed to be secure and untraceable. The only way to get there is a stopover at Imperial Station 003 over Coruscant. From there, the coordinates are transmitted to the navicomputer of the ship directly, so there’s no chance of interference.” He grumbled, as if it was pointless.

Miria looked at Echo, who glanced at a console. “Well, his intel is good about the station, anyway. I can’t confirm the rest of his story.”

“You think I would lie?” Rampart huffed, offended.

“Yes.” All four clones snapped at once.

Miria took a deep breath, turning to the console to look at the station schematics. Hunter moved to her side, looking as she did. “We’ll need to get access to the station, find a ship approved to go to Tantiss, and then copy the coordinate transmission.” He muttered darkly.

“A tall order if there ever was one.” She nodded, zooming in on the station. “It will be too heavily fortified to storm, and we can’t risk making any noise that will warn Hemlock we’re coming.”

“We’ll need Imperial clearance codes.” Crosshair drawled, watching his wife’s eyes dart from him to Rampart. She was thinking, and he had a feeling his old Admiral was not going to enjoy the very specific brand of Halcyon madness she brought to the Bad Batch.

“Got them.” Echo offered.

“Those codes change every rotation.” Rampart sneered.

“Then we’d better get moving.” The look on Echo’s face said he’d like to jam his scomp into the former Imperial’s ribcage. “What do you have for me, Miri?”

Rampart rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. Jedi, you have to realize this is insane. You’ll never be able to just walk into the main control bay of that station and copy the data.”

She smiled thinly, a spark in her eyes the guys recognized. “But you can. And so can a security detail with you.”

“What?” He gasped.

Echo smirked. “So that’s why you wanted an officer’s uniform.” He tossed one into Rampart’s lap.

“You still remember how to act like an officer, I’m sure.” Miria turned and looked him over calmly.

“Of course. I didn’t make it to vice admiral on looks alone.”

The clones looked unimpressed. Miria just shook her head. “Well of course. You’d still be a grunt if you had. Let’s just get this over with and as soon as we have our coordinates, we’ll set you free.”

“How can I be sure you’ll follow through?” He demanded.

Crosshair took the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Rampart. “You’ll just have to trust us, like we have to trust you.”

“Not much of a reassurance.” He huffed.

“Then take my word as a Mandalorian. Or a Jedi. Whichever you trust better.” Miria shrugged. “Just put that uniform on and fix your hair. I’m not interested in revenge, no matter what you’ve done.”

He looked at the gray, starched fabric in his hands. “I can’t wear this. It’s a captain’s uniform. I was a vice-admiral.”

Echo huffed. “So you got demoted.”

Rampart sucked his teeth, quietly furious. “I hate clones.”

“You’re not their favorite either.” Miria said quietly as she sat down, the brothers all moving to start flying, checking coordinates, or keeping guard while he changed. She averted her eyes politely when he stripped to his skivvies and redressed.

“I don’t know how you ended up married to one, Jedi.”

“When the Force sends you a blessing, you don’t ask why it was sent.” She looked back once he had pants on, her tired eyes burning holes in him. He was sure she could stare a hole through the hull if she tried. “I asked it plenty of times why you took him away from me, though. It took me over a year to get him back. I spent six months of that in a cell on Tantiss myself. He spent even longer.”

He winced slightly. “Then why the hell do you want to go back? Hemlock’s legendary for being insane.”

“A well deserved reputation.” She nodded. “Do you really want to know why we’re doing this?”

He looked at her for a long time. “No one will tell me anything.” He said quietly, taking the comb she picked up from a box next to her and held out him. The edge in his voice told her he was scared, and he knew every clone on the ship hated him.

Miria thought about putting on her Mandalorian face, threatening him into submission. It might have gotten quick results, but it wouldn’t last… she’d said it herself when facing down the Pykes on Ord Mantell so many months ago. Obedience through fear would never breed loyalty, and when the power was gone nothing would remain. She stood a better chance of convincing him not to betray them if she appealed to his humanity.

If he even had any. He had been an Imperial, and ordered the genocide that destroyed most of Kamino, after all.

“They have a sister. She’s about twelve.” Miria said softly. “And Crosshair and I have a four month old daughter. Both of them were taken to Tantiss. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do to get them back, even if it means going back to hell ourselves to save them.”

Rampart looked at her, considering the woman as he fixed his hair. She met his eyes unabashedly, small and furious but patient and kind all at once. “And you mean to set me free after this?”

“I do. I don’t think I believe in revenge, satisfying as it might be.” Her mind flew to Cid. She’d thought so many times about getting on a ship and going back to Ord Mantell, just to stick her lightsaber through the treacherous trandoshan who’d sold them out. She’d made not-quite-jokes about it, ice in her eyes and black rage in her heart.

She’d never done it.

“But you’ll tear Hemlock apart when you find him.” Rampart observed, sitting down next to her.

“He is an active threat, and he’ll never give up.” She nodded. “He’s an obsessive madman. Yes, I’ll kill him. But to protect what I love, not kill what I hate.” She hoped Master Plo would be proud of her for finally letting the lesson sink into her thick skull. Somewhere between a too-soft padawan and a too-hard warrior was what she’d been searching for all her life.

Balance.

Rampart sighed. “Maybe the Empire was wrong to exterminate your people.”

Miria smiled thinly. “Those of us who survived will be their reckoning.”

Rampart took a good look at her as Echo brought a droid to start scrubbing paint off their armor. “I can see that.”

“That’s all the armor scrubbed, but we’re still going to stick out pretty badly.” Hunter sighed, picking up his helmet. Crosshair sighed and nodded, rubbing his thumb across his rifle rest on his paldron.

“The girls can help us repaint it.” Miria said coolly, stepping out in full blackout herself. “Wrecker, stay here and monitor the ship. If we get in trouble, we’ll need a quick getaway.”

Rampart rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is never going to work.”

“You were an Imperial. It shouldn’t be hard to act like one again.” Hunter huffed. “And keep in mind that the Empire double crossed you and imprisoned you. We busted you out. Whenever you think about betraying us, think about that.”

Miria put her helmet on. “Focus boys. Everyone plays their part, and we part ways peacefully. Right, Rampart?”

“I can hardly wait.” He adjusted the collar of his uniform as Echo transmitted the clearance codes and got them a docking bay. Everyone moved to flank the “captain” and they stepped out in formation. A lieutenant stepped out with clipboard, eying the clones and Miria.

“This vessel is not on my manifest for today. Who is in charge of this ship?” He got in Hunter’s face, the clone keeping impassive. “And what division are you with? These uniforms are not regulation!”

Miria’s helmet dipped towards Rampart expectantly, unable to say a word without drawing attention to herself. Her armor was definitely never military standard, and if they noticed it was beskar on a woman instead of plastoid on a man, the jig was up. Fortunately, Rampart was delighted to make an ass of himself.

“Step aside.” He pushed Hunter out of the way, eying the lieutenant with a signature look of irritating superiority. “My division and orders are classified. If you have an issue with that, you can contact Admiral Tarkin.”

The lower ranking imperial wilted. “Yes sir. My apologies.”

“Now, you are dismissed.” Rampart waved him away like he was an annoying gnat. He slunk out with his tail between his legs, and Rampart looked at Miria. “I did miss this.”

“Of course you did. Just get us into the command center.” She rolled her eyes. No wonder Crosshair hated him so much. This man was a menace with even the idea of pretend power.

“That’s ‘get us to the command center, sir’.” Rampart smirked.

“Not happening.” Echo growled.

They moved in formation, falling into step natural for the clones and an acquired habit for Miria after so many years beside them. Between steps, she counted her heartbeat and tried to pretend it was steadier than it was.

Beside his wife, Crosshair had his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were under threat of eroding from pressure. He’d never put a lot of stock in spirituality before. The Force existed, but he only understood it in the context of what Miria could explain through the bond between them. Maybe Manda did too, but he couldn’t see or touch it. He’d never really bothered praying before… but with every step towards the control room he whispered a tiny one to himself.

If you’re there, please. Help us find the girls. If not for me, then for Miria. If not for her, then for Mayrin and Omega. Just don’t let Hemlock hurt them. Don’t let Tantiss destroy them. Don’t let it do what it did to me. Not to them.

When he came to a stop in front of the door guards, Rampart was ordering them to the barracks, and quoting Imperial protocol to convince them to do it despite having just started their shift. Once they walked into the door they’d abandoned, Miria shut it behind them. A single helmeted controller looked up, startled, and Hunter just stunned them to avoid the argument.

Crosshair caught the guy to stop a loud thump onto the floor and set him down slowly.

Miria nodded to Echo. “You know what to do.”

“Have I ever let you down, General?” He plugged in his scomp and started working, only his tense shoulders giving away he was anything but confident.

“Never.” She patted his shoulder.

Hunter and Crosshair posted up at the door, just in case someone walked in, while Miria managed Rampart’s anxiety about being in here too long.Her foot was bouncing on the floor lightly, memorizing everything in this room for any kind of clues.

Rampart kept looking around, stressed out. “Can you go any faster?”

“Easy.” Miria said softly. “Give him a moment.”

“I’m in.” Echo waved his flesh hand to assure her. “Hold on… there’s only one ship scheduled for Tantiss on the station right now.”

“Get the coordinates and we can move.” Miria nodded.

Echo fiddled a a little longer and made a displeased sound in the back of his throat. “The coordinates aren’t transmitted until the ship has launched.”

Crosshair swore softly. “They can’t be copied.”

Miria hissed out a breath from between her ship. “We’d have to be onboard to get them.”

“Science vessels have additional security.” Rampart shook his head. “You’ll never make it.”

“I can.” Echo murmured.

Crosshair’s stomach dropped. “You can’t go alone.”

Miria leaned over the console to look at the vessel scheduled for Tantiss. Hunter was doing the same, and pointed at something on the screen. “That’s risky, Hunter.” She murmured. “Echo, are you sure you want to do this?”

Echo nodded. “If it’s the only way to find Omega and Mayrin, then yes. Tell me the plan.”

Hunter showed him the screen. “The droid tube. If you get onboard and disable the proximity sensors, there’s space on the bottom of the vessel for us to attach. They’ll take us to Tantiss directly.”

“They’ll be monitoring comms, we’ll have to go radio silent.” Miria gritted her teeth. “Which means you can’t tell us when the sensor are down, or if you’re in any trouble.” Her chest lanced sharply and she pushed her hand against it again. Not now, not now.

Echo put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

“This is not what I agreed to.” Rampart panicked when he realized there was nowhere for him to escape. He’d have to go with them to Tantiss, or he’d have to stay here and get caught.

“Plans change.” Crosshair huffed, catching Miria’s hand and rubbing her palm with his thumb. It was distracting enough to fight down the rising attack, and she bit the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood. The combination of love and pain kick started her emotional stability into functioning.

“Okay. Echo, be careful.” She nodded. “Everyone else back to our ship. Echo, we’re counting on you.”

The corporal gave her a salute and dipped out of the control room ahead of them. Rampart groaned. “We’re all going to die.”

“Shut up.” Crosshair hissed, squeezing Miria’s hand. He didn’t need the pessimistic prisoner to trigger his wife into a meltdown.

Miria took three slow, meditative breaths before giving a quick hand signal and taking point. “Stay low. We need to be in position when Echo gets those sensors down.”

Everyone’s comm went off at the same time, Wrecker’s apologetically gruff voice coming through. “Hunter, Miri, I had to sideline an Imperial. I think he’s gonna be missed pretty soon.”

“We’re on our way back to you. Have the shuttle ready.” Hunter said back, and they moved out for the docking bay.

When they got to the ship, Wrecker was setting the nosy lieutenant from earlier on a crate and delicately setting his hat over the massive lump on the guy’s head. Hunter shoved Rampart up the ramp quickly, Miria and Crosshair making sure Wrecker got in safely. “Ramp secure.” Crosshair called, before he and Miria headed for the cockpit.

Wrecker kept his eye on Rampart as the three of them were glued to the Imperial science ship already moving out of the hangar just ahead of them. “C’mon Echo. Get those sensors down.” Hunter muttered to himself.

“It’s impossible. He’s probably already been captured.” Rampart huffed.

“No. Echo’s on it.” Crosshair said firmly, and a warm flush raced through Miria’s heart. It wasn’t that long ago that Echo was “the weird reg” on the squad, and Crosshair was distrustful of him as he was every new person in his life. Now he trusted his brother implicitly, with the fate of Omega and Mayrin who Crosshair loved like nothing else in the galaxy. Even her.

The ship ahead of them started going through it’s pre-jump checks, lights on the hull changing colors. Miria sucked in a breath. “It’s getting ready to jump.”

“The sensors aren’t down yet.” Hunter muttered, grip so tight on the controls that they were both sure he was going to snap them.

“Get in position. He’ll pull it off.” Miria ordered, swallowing hard.

Hunter nodded, but Rampart started up towards them in the cockpit. “They’ll detect us and shoot us down. You have to abort the mission!”

Miria’s hand flicked up, the Force shoving Rampart back into Wrecker’s chest. Hunter’s voice went desperately low as he pushed them forward. “Negative.”

They headed for the bottom of the ship, flipping belly to belly. The proximity alert turned itself off just before it could go off, and Hunter grinned, docking them on as the hyperdrive on the Imperial ship came online.

When the docking clamps secured, the stars lengthened and they were dragged into hyperspace along with the Imperials. Hunter let out a held breath. Wrecker whooped. Miria turned and threw her arms around Crosshair’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. He folded around her, ignoring Rampart’s stare. “We got it, babygirl.” He muttered. “Echo came through.”

“Of course he did.” She breathed. It was a relief… but the persistent pulse in her chest hadn’t let up yet. They still had to brave their own personal hell.

Mount Tantiss Base.

#explict #original character #clone force 99 #the bad batch #crosshair #star wars #fanfic #caught in the crosshairs

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