#lieutenant mayday

[ladyzirkonia]

My beloved husband Mayday. You'll be missed!

Beautiful art by Uzuri Art on Twitter.

[allanalightwood]

fuck temuera morrison for making jango fett so fucking attractive

[artfulacrostic]

memes for The Bad Batch 2x12, "The Outpost"

*SPOILERS*

+BONUS:

[liontalon1]

I really wasn’t expecting the big bad this episode to be:

10/10 favorite episode

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.1 - Last Chance

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday, Clone Trooper Hexx, Clone Trooper Veetch, Lieutenant Nolan, Assorted Imperial Troopers Word Count: ~3045 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: The Imperial relief ship finally arrives, marking the end of the squad’s long posting on Barton IV. Mayday is surprised to see a CT-99 listed on the crew roster.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place

“COMMANDER!”

Veetch’s yell was enough to summon Mayday at a run. He weaved through the stacks of crates to where his squad member was bent over the computer console, tapping excitedly.

Veetch turned with a wild-eyed grin. “Transport is incoming.”

The young clone stepped aside, letting Mayday see the screen for himself. Disbelieving, Mayday scrolled through the transmission, reading and re-reading until he was sure it wasn't a joke.

“Go get Hexx,” he ordered, voice shaky with something between excitement and dread. “This is it, lad. We’re getting out of here.”

Veetch was off like a shot, the lethargy of their long posting dissipated as ready as snow in the sun. Before long the three clones were clustered round the screen, avidly reviewing the transmission.

It’s concise – what Mayday has come to expect from the Empire.

[Cargo retrieval ship scheduled to arrive 1600 Galactic Standard. Ensure all stored goods are ready for transport.]

What it doesn’t say is the bit that Mayday reads between the lines. That he and his boys are finally leaving Barton IV and all its bad memories behind them.

Hexx was reviewing the ship’s manifest with a frown.

“Says they’re bringing a contingent to secure the depot whilst the cargo is transferred,” he said with a dour tone, “but there’s no clone troopers listed here.”

Veetch leaned in to peer over his shoulder. “There’s one,” he pointed. “CT-9904.”

“The only one,” Hexx muttered.

“A CT-99?” said Mayday mildly, eyebrows raising towards his hairline. “I didn’t realise there were any left in service.”

Veetch glanced at him in confusion. “What’s different about a CT-99?” he asked.

“Defective clones,” supplied Hexx. “But still combat-worthy.”

“He must be one of the last ones,” said Mayday. “Well, a brother’s a brother. I’ll see if I can pin him down when they get here, find out what his view of this new Empire is.”

Hexx snorted. “If he’ll talk to you,” he said. “I’ve heard the 99’s are notoriously difficult to work with. Only interested in others like them.”

“You’ll keep those thoughts to yourself,” said Mayday flatly, his commander’s tone brooking no argument. “If the rumours are true, and the Empire are phasing out clone troopers, those of us that are left need to stick together.”

“What do we need to do to get ready for the ship’s arrival?” asked Veetch, the plaintive note of hope in his voice almost painful to hear.

Mayday straightened with a humourless smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Better get out there and sweep the snow from the landing zone. First impressions count, boys. Let’s make sure this place is looking spick and span before the transport arrives.”

The wry sarcasm in his voice made the other two grin.

“You don’t mean that, Commander,” said Veetch, pulling on his helmet and tightening the fabric coverings.

Mayday huffed a laugh. “Sure I do. If the ship skids on ice when it lands and crashes into the depot, none of us are getting out of here.” He clapped a hand to Hexx’s shoulder, then copied Veetch in gathering his helmet.

“Come on. We’ll do this together.”

*

Mayday’s expectations hadn’t been low enough.

The narrow-faced Lieutenant who disembarked the transport had immediately started making demands which betrayed that he hadn’t bothered to read the briefing about the Barton IV depot.

“Your orders were to protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Dead,” answered Mayday shortly. The man would have known that, if he’d read the brief. He glanced at his two remaining troopers, nodding in their direction. “Hexx, Veetch and I,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and calm, “we’re all that’s left.”

To his mind, it was impossible to miss the sombre line of empty, damaged clone helmets lined up on the crates behind them. The lieutenant’s pale blue eyes slid past them, glazing past the evidence of their loss to settle in a scowl directed at Mayday once more.

“Your failings will be dealt with later,” he said haughtily. “For now, I am in charge until the cargo is transported.”

Mayday bristled at the man’s tone, bit back the reaction. Instead he settled for a sardonic smile, glancing at Hexx and Veetch with a barely-concealed eye roll. “I feel safer already,” he drawled, confident that his two troopers shared his thoughts. He couldn’t wait for this so-called Lieutenant to discover the realities of the outpost.

Sarcasm was the wrong approach. The small man’s pinched face narrowed further, mouth puckering in evident anger. “Look here, clone, you will speak to me with respect.”

The change was immediate. Hexx and Veetch, leaned back against the crates, straightened. Mayday dropped a hand to his side from his crossed arms, a flick of his fingers telling them to stand down.

“In my experience,” he said, drawing himself deliberately to his full height, “respect is something to be earned.”

Fourteen months of hardship had only weathered confidence into Mayday’s tone.

But he wasn’t prepared for what the Lieutenant threw at him next.

“Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, where you let the majority of your squad get killed.”

Mayday stiffened, a dark glower spreading to his face. He knew his own failings; knew the decisions he had made during the Clone Wars and since that had sent good soldiers to their deaths. The guilt of ordering patrols during the blizzard six months into the Barton IV posting haunted him.

Everything had gone wrong after that; but the rest of it could have been avoided. The rest of his squad died because the Empire ignored his requests for support time and again.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” he said when he had control of his voice once more, “how many missions have you commanded?”

The smaller man’s shoulders rose towards his ears with a defensive, embarrassed glower.

“That’s what I thought,” said Mayday softly.

Inside his chest his heart raced, adrenaline demanding his aching body take action. Instead he dragged his gaze away from the lieutenant, trying to make it seem like the man was beneath his attention.

“Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” he said, an order rather than a suggestion.

Wordlessly, Hexx and Veetch slipped past him. Hexx turned briefly, a questioning hand sign thrown his commander, but Mayday signalled for him to leave. He cast a pointed glance towards the dark armoured figure who had shadowed the lieutenant silently throughout the confrontation, rifle stowed at his back but seemingly tense and ready to fight.

Hexx merely nodded and turned to follow Veetch, less than gently escorting the Imperial lieutenant away from the sheltered space behind the stacked storage crates.

Once they had the space to themselves Mayday turned his attention to the silent sniper, assessing. The man was taller than Mayday or any of the brothers he had ever served with, yet he wore clone armour, albeit a dark-painted variant. It was enough to confirm this must be the defective clone from the ship’s crew manifest.

Mayday straightened, wondering how best to begin his overtures towards the newcomer. He’d never met a CT-99 before, which would have given him pause enough, and that was without knowing how deeply the man’s loyalty to the new Empire ran.

He decided that was the first thing he wanted to know. Forcing himself to relax back against the crates again, he stared into the impassive green visor and asked, “You, uh, know the lieutenant well?”

For a heartbeat he wondered if it was the right question. Then the sniper spoke, voice laden with acid.

“For about two hours,” he said, the derision in his tone clear.

Mayday huffed a relieved laugh. “Two hours too long, I bet,” he said, having decided he’d had enough of the man after only two minutes.

The only reply was a noncommittal ‘hmm’. Deciding this was better than meeting a severe response that berated him for disparaging the Imperial officer, he pressed on.

“So, what did you do to get stuck with this mission?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

The bite of sarcasm drew a genuine if bitter laugh from Mayday.

Lifting the portable heater, Mayday shuffled it forwards a few steps and dropped it in front of the other clone. The glow of the device did nothing to dispel the shadows that seemed to cling to the black-painted armour and shroud the sniper in darkness.

The 99 barely looked at him. Or perhaps sharp eyes were following him from inside the helmet – there was no way to tell. The man didn’t move; hadn’t moved, even to relax a little when the lieutenant departed.

“The name’s Mayday,” he offered after a pause.

The silence that followed was so long that Mayday was sure the other must be ignoring him, wishing for the conversation to end.

Then, so softly it was almost lost; “Crosshair.”

The commander raised his eyebrows, then let them fall back into a frown. The clone had been so slow to give his name, said it so uncertainly, that Mayday found himself wondering if it was the first time he had spoken it aloud since The Order reduced them to mere numbers in the eyes of the Empire.

“Crosshair,” Mayday repeated, and he gave weight to the name, added conviction. Desperately hoped that this small act of connection would bind the CT-99 to him in something approaching brotherhood.

He summoned a dry smile, and gestured around him with a flourish. “Well, Crosshair… welcome to The Outpost.”

*

“Why aren’t they loading the kriffing cargo already?” snarled Veetch in disappointment.

Hexx shared his younger companion’s frustration. The three remaining squad members from Barton IV were more than ready to leave, but the newly-arrived Lieutenant Nolan had other ideas. The Imperial Troopers who were with him with were filing from the ship and making their way into the depot. It seemed clear that a quick turnaround was less important than meticulously checking each crate for signs of tampering – as if the clones had any motive or desire to do such a thing.

They were stood in the shadow of the damaged storage building, fairly certain that it would keep them out of the way of the industry now overtaking the base, but they were hailed anyway.

“Hie, clones,” called a voice, neither friendly nor welcoming. Hexx glanced at Veetch and gave a weary shrug before stepping out from the sheltering wall, setting his body against the driving wind as they crossed to the Imperial Trooper.

“Yes?” he asked, scraping the thin reserves of his patience for some measure of politeness.

“Show my men where they’re bunking whilst we’re here.”

Hexx barely contained his derisive snort. “What?”

“The barracks area. Show my men the way through that maze of damned crates you created in the main building.”

“They’re not your barracks,” said Veetch uncertainly, hovering beside Hexx’s shoulder.

The Imperial Trooper stepped closer, looming into Veetch’s personal space. “Seeing as most of your squad is dead, I’m guessing there’s plenty of spare bunks. Go and show the others where to stow their kit.”

Veetch surged forwards in anger, but Hexx caught his arm before he could do anything.

“Yes sir,” he bit, making his voice as much like Mayday’s derisive drawl as he could manage. His commander had set the tone for this encounter in the words exchanged with Nolan; Hexx would follow suit.

He hauled the younger clone away with him, tightening his grip when he felt Veetch fight against him.

“What are you doing?” hissed Veetch, a shaky, outraged whisper. “You’re not doing what he said? After that?”

Hexx shook him hard, fingers pressing bruises between the seams of his upper arm armour.

“Listen here,” he spat, leaning in close to the younger trooper even though his voice would be perfectly clear on the com. “This might be our last chance off this forsaken rock. I’m not going to spoil it by losing my temper with these prissy Imperials. So suck it up, Veetch, and we can finally get out this kriffing hell-hole.”

“But the others… Dene and Recon and Helix and Axis-”

“-Are gone.” Hexx’s voice was flat. “But we’re still here.” He sighed, loosening his grip on Veetch’s arm, transferring his hand to his shoulder instead to grip with supportive pressure. “If you were older you’d have learned this during the war. There’s always another mission. Another posting. Some of your brothers get left behind. But they’d want you to go on, so you fight another day, you keep living for them. You hear me?”

Veetch wasn’t listening. His focus was over Hexx’s shoulder, gaze fixed on something distant. Then his hand flew to his com.

“Commander! Raiders spotted inside the perimeter.”

Instantly Hexx’s hands went to his blaster, spinning to follow Veetch’s gaze, dropping into a battle-ready stance.

“Over there,” Veetch told him, gesturing, and Hexx nodded.

“I see. Come on, kid. Let’s not let the Commander down now we’ve got an audience.”

The two clones sprinted for the perimeter breach, weaving between Imperial Troopers who stood around, slower to react. Veetch’s blaster fire lit up the hard-standing, arcing towards the raiders who broke from cover as they realised they had been made.

“I’ve got the west,” came Mayday’s voice over the com. “The sniper’s taking the east tower.”

They closed on the raiders, the cluster of enemy combatants quickly splitting up to try and escape. One of them crouched to the ground, steadying their rifle before taking a shot.

Veetch stumbled, veering out the way to take cover behind one of the base’s low barricades. The shelter was a brief respite, chance to catch his breath and look to Hexx for their next move.

Only Hexx was no longer at his side.

He was sprawled on the ground, throat torn out by blaster-fire.

The world narrowed. Inside his helmet, Veetch struggled to draw breath. By rote he raised his hand, activating his com.

“Hexx is down.” He was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded. His throat constricted around a thick lump of sorrow, but somehow it hadn’t stayed his words.

His fingers trembled beside the com button, feeling like he should say something else, not knowing what.

Confused shouts and blaster fire sounded as the Imperial Troops joined the combat. Veetch poked his head up from behind cover, quickly surveying the battlefield. The Imperials weren’t used to fighting in the dark and low visibility of Barton IV snowstorms. He was.

“Thee raiders heading towards the shuttle at zero-one-five,” he reported, and then he was on the move again. Two of the raiders peeled off in one direction but he was closer to the third – he stuck on them as they skirted round the lowered ramp to the far side of the shuttle.

He slowed to a jog as he neared the shuttle. The raider hadn’t noticed him; Veetch found himself softening his footfalls in the hope of ambushing his target.

An explosion. The light craft was consumed in intense nexus of fire which blossomed outwards with the strength of an inferno.

Veetch felt the wave of heat hit him first. Then lethal shrapnel pinwheeled from the wreckage to pierce his body, and he didn’t feel anything at all.

*

Crosshair left the chaos of the base and its burning debris field behind him and followed the spattered path of blood behind the buildings, the dark red stains stark against the snow even in the early twilight of the bad weather.

He blinked and squinted inside his helmet, trying to banish the bright dots dancing in front of his sensitive eyes. Even through the heat sensor, the after-image of the exploding shuttle had been seared into his retinas.

Normally, if there was an explosion on the battlefield, he knew the cause. Wrecker would give him a heads-up.

The attack on the outpost had been an ambush, and he'd had no time to avert his gaze from the sun-bright nova which engulfed the destroyed craft.

Now he slithered down a snow-slope, traitorous memory supplying unwanted thoughts of the last time he had fought on terrain like this. His head had hurt then, too, an intense pinpoint pressure at his temple. He had wondered if it was a migraine, the kind Hunter was prone to.

There was nothing there now but pitted scar tissue, shiny and stretched from the ion burn. At least this time the headache was due to the bright light, nothing more.

His descent brought him to a lip of ice and he dropped lithely into the channel below, landing on his feet. Blessed, cool darkness enveloped him, soothing to his overstrained eyes, but still the blinking afterglows remained and prevented his low-light vision from kicking in.

Crosshair drew the torch from his belt and flashed the beam ahead. The crevasse opened into a tunnel which bored into the mountain-side, winding round a corner and out of sight.

"A snow skiff took off down the western ridge," called a voice from behind him. He turned and looked up to see the reg commander following his route down the snow-slope, crouching at the top of the drop. “The rest must’ve fled on foot into the mountain pass.”

"Wrong," was all Crosshair said, casting his torch back towards the tunnel.

The commander dropped next to him and followed his gaze to a slick of red on the rocky floor.

"So that's how snuck past our defences," he breathed, his voice grim.

"We should go after them," said Crosshair, starting down the tunnel.

"Hang on," said Mayday quickly. He caught Crosshair’s arm, stalling his advance. "You'll freeze to death if you head out there. You think it's cold now? You've got no idea how it gets after true nightfall.” He didn’t fight Crosshair as the sniper shook himself free, instead folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, I've got brothers to bury."

The hitch in his voice was worse than sorrow. It was resignation.

Crosshair hesitated. He’d watched the clone trooper run alongside the shuttle, and barely given a thought to whether he had survived.

“Fine,” he said, his voice a thin, displeased whisper. He shifted his stance, resting the rifle on his shoulder. “But Nolan isn’t going to like this.”

Read Part 2.2 - Broken

Officially on Part 2 - now canon-compliant instead of pre-canon!

RIP Hexx and Veetch :(

Here's a reminder of the Angstpril prompts that @kybercrystals94, @the-little-moment and I are sharing; mine are the ones in red! :)

Here's @the-little-moment's stories:- Day 1 - Homesick Day 4 - Longing Day 7 - Bad Dreams Day 10 - Phantom Pain Day 13 - Learning The Truth Day 16 - Emotionally Distant

And @kybercrystals94's stories:- Day 3 - Broken Hearted Day 6 - This Isn't Going To Work Day 9 - Trust Issues Day 12 - A Little Too Late Day 15 - Confrontation

[thecoffeelorian]

The Mayday Game (Part 1 of 2)

◾"How come it's always cold on this floor...?"

◾Ensign Kallus asks this question of Ensign Gorn one summer afternoon, the outside temperature measuring almost into the 90-degree range.

◾Inside this dormitory, however...the thermostat appears to be "frozen" around the mid-thirties range, and almost always dropping.

◾Add to that the other strange occurrence of the lights occasionally flickering blue, and a second question is almost posed out loud--why is it just our room? Why do none of the other cadets have the same problem?

◾To his credit, Ensign Gorn doesn't dwell too long on the unfairness of this situation, as it won't exactly fix whatever's wrong with the temperature controls. That is, perhaps, a situation best brought up with their instructors in between classes.

◾In the meantime, though...it's here that he suggests a pause in their studies, because he would like to try playing a little game instead.

◾"What sort of game...?" Kallus asks, not knowing whether to feel interested or nervous.

◾"The Mayday Game," Gorn replies, tugging the regulation blanket a bit tighter around his shoulders.

◾"How do you play it?"

◾"Simple--all you have to do is light a candle, stand in front of a mirror with all the lights off, and say the name 'Mayday' three times. After that, Mayday himself will come and whisper your future to you."

◾"And...who exactly is this...'Mayday'?"

◾Well...I guess you'll just have to play the game to find out, won't you?

◾It's probably just a prank, Kallus tells himself, not wanting to look like a coward in front of his roommate. Just some test to see if I'm brave or not. I can handle pranks--

◾"--I'll do it."

◾"I'll get the candle."

◾And so, about a minute or so later...the two cadets are standing together before their dorm's small mirror, with Gorn holding the candle while Kallus has temporary custody of the blankets.

◾On the count of three, they chant the name of the lost Commander three times exactly as the game requires.

◾"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday."

◾Kallus is staring hard at his own reflection at this point, and naturally assumes that Gorn is doing the same thing...until he happens to turn to his left side, and sees nothing but empty space, endless drifts of snow, and cold.

◾There is very little else here besides this, although he thinks he sees something still and pale lying just out of the corner of his eye. No sounds come to him, other than the slow, shaky sound of his own breathing.

◾And strangest of all, the feeling of the cold is sinking into his clothing within seconds, even before he can do so much as take a step in any direction.

◾Right as he thinks to call out for Ensign Gorn, or the nearest teacher, or anyone else at all, however...that pale something suddenly jolts to life, and now the only thought Ensign Kallus has in his head is this.

◾Hide.

writer's notes: I wrote this as a bit of horror story practice, as well as to turn the most random of SW timeline connections into a somewhat living tale of the past. Also, Kallus' appearance fits his voice actor rather than the tall ginger guy we got in the animation. Finally, the divider was made by @djarrex.

no pressure tags: @nimata-beroya @intrepidmare @ilovecatsandbaking @mayawakening @heart-of-a-rebel16 @mystical-salamander @lost-in-derry @sapphic-loser16 @astralalmighty @archaicsymbols @imabeautifulbutterfly @jamine-boi-124 and anybody else who might like a story today.

[heyclickadee]

Things about "The Outpost" that are still killing me:

1. That airstrip was huge. And by the time we see Mayday and Crosshair on it they've been walking across it for a while, at the rate they’re going. The TK troopers don't see them at first, but once they do, they gather, see this:

These two men, barely on their feet, clearly in pain, one of them unable to keep holding on to his crutch anymore, staggering towards them inch by inch, looking towards them for help--not a single one of the TK troopers offers any kind of assistance whatsoever. No one calls for a medic, no one rushes forward to carry Mayday. They all just stand there and watch. And when Nolan tells them to go, they do, because they probably don't see the clones that differently than Nolan does.  

Yeah, Lieutenant Nolan is an asshole. He went from, "I'm probably going to dislike this guy," to, "LOATHE," in my book with a single line. He's a pathetic officer-wannabe who genuinely thinks of the clones as machinery he can push around and direct how he likes. He doesn't see the problem with kicking around someone like Mayday--someone who technically outranks him, I think--or the danger inherent in goading someone like Crosshair, because he doesn't see either of them as reasoning, emotion-having people who may just retaliate if pushed far enough. He's a snake and he deserved what he got. But his malice is more than matched by the TK troopers' apathy.

2. The way that there's ice and snow frozen to Crosshair's armor on the landing strip, and the fact that Mayday can't quite make it to the end of the tarmac, nor is Crosshair able to continue carrying him. They're both so cold and tired. They've both hit their physical limit and it would have been enough if anyone had cared to help.

3. Crosshair is--literally--stripped of everything that marks him as an imperial soldier or a soldier at all by the end of the episode, and most of it is stuff he casts aside himself. His CT number (in a way, when he gives Mayday his name), his helmet that he doesn't even look for (there as SO MANY good helmet metas out there, so I'm not going to get into it), his rifle (which he gives to Mayday to use as a crutch and doesn't retrieve when Mayday drops it), his backpack (I'm guessing it got too heavy so he threw it away to keep carrying Mayday), and even his armor, reflection mirror...sticker...things, and sidepiece (all of which are taken from him after he blacks out. I'm not real happy about the fact that the scientists at Mount Tantiss changed his clothes while he was unconscious). Of course, the last few function a little bit differently than they first ones do. The CT number, the helmet, the rifle, and I guess (?) even the backpack (though to a much lesser extent) are all Crosshair intentionally putting his imperial identity aside in order to help someone he sees as a brother and re-humanizing himself in the process. The last couple--the armor, the sidepiece--that's the writers telling us how vulnerable Crosshair is in his current situation.

4. The SNOW and the way it interacted with the CHARACTERS was just *chef's kiss* Credit to Joel Aron and the effects department, you guys knocked it out of the park.

5. Likewise, while I'm really glad The Bad Batch does list the names of the animators at CGCG who worked on each episode in the credits (because guess what--not every animated show does this. Sometimes they just list the name of the studio), I really want to know which animators were responsible for animating Crosshair this time around. Or at least Crosshair's shots, since the way I think it often works is that an animator will be assigned a series of shots and be responsible for animating everyone in those shots, because oh boy, was that a performance. Crosshair's animation has always been standout, I think partly (partly) because he's a character that doesn't actually talk that much, and says stuff he doesn't mean at least half the time, so there has to be a certain level of clarity and nuance in his performance for the character comes across the way the writers intend (and partly because being an ultra-expressive but taciturn bundle of emotions is a big part of Crosshair as a person). But the team working on this episode took something that was already great and kicked it up another level.

6. I want to know if Jennifer Corbett, the board artists, layout artists, the other writers, the directors, and others high-fived each other when they came up with the ice vulture symbolism and the rock-wings shot. I want to know if they knew we'd go crazy over it.

7. Mayday. Literally everything about Mayday. Mayday my beloved. *cries*

8. The look on Crosshair's face when he's about to pass out and sees the TK troopers coming still messes me up, because it's the closest thing we've gotten to a real smile (one that actually reaches his eyes) pretty much since he was teasing Echo in the med bay in "Aftermath." Crosshair's someone who's come across as to me passively suicidal since the moment he turned around after the droid fight in "Return to Kamino" and saw Hunter and the rest pointing their guns at him. Passively--meaning that he's not going to actually do anything, that he doesn't actually want to die, he’ll survive however he can, but that he's not exactly planning for the future, either. He'll just keep doing what he's doing until it (almost definitely) kills him. And. I mean. Crosshair's not stupid. He knows what killing Lieutenant Nolan means for him. I'm not saying that Crosshair didn't expect to wake up afterwards, or that he wanted to not wake up, but I am saying that he did decide that avenging Mayday and defying the Empire in whatever small way he could was worth dying for. And that he was very, very tired.

9. I'm so! Glad! That Crosshair's growth wasn't centered around Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, or Echo. We already know that he cares about them. Showing us the lengths he'll go to help a relative stranger instead and making that his breaking point does so much more to tell us that he's grown.

10. The thing that sticks with me most, though, is the fact that this episode wasn't just sad. It wasn't just unrelenting tragedy, or even like "The Solitary Clone," where overriding emotion of the whole episode is despair. I mean, yes, this episode is sad. It's tragic. You have Lieutenant Nolan's cruelty, you have the malice of the Empire, you have the apathy of the TK troopers, the dehumanization of the clones, the soul-crushing way in which Mayday and Crosshair find out that the clones were always going to be replaced, that inevitability, the futility (on one level) struggle that ends in Mayday's death. 

But it's not just that. There's warmth, too. There's camraderie and a little bit of humor. Mayday, a survivor starting to see how pointless it all was, and Crosshair, who's so desperate for companionship at this point that he'd pack bond with a rock, snark back and forth at each other a little bit like old friends. Heck, this is the episode where we get the most profound act of compassion we've seen in the show so far. Mayday didn't have to disarm that mine and save Crosshair, but he did, and it matters. No, Mayday didn't make it, but Crosshair carried him through a blizzard for two days and made sure he didn't get left behind or die alone, even if he couldn't save him, and that matters. Yes, Crosshair's a prisoner now, but he chose to avenge Mayday, grab hold of his own humanity again, and told the Empire where to stuff it, and that matters. Kindness and defiance have their own meaning, even if they don't change the outcome. But the fact that this episode is more than just sad is, I think, why it's so harrowing in the first place.

[mooonjin]

we got crosshair back. but at what cost...

spoilers for tbb 02x12!!

commander mayday, i love you

WHAT NO IM SOBBING

he got blinded and still took the shot *swoon*

its "deadweight" but he carries mayday ALL the way back...

also this just made me so sad like this is a huddle cuddle :*(

biggest frown on my face

shot the lieutenant dead not for himself, but for his brother mayday. the clone he cared about whether meeting him for just a day but still treated him like one of his. this brought a new side of crosshair. a side that gives us crosshairs breaking point for the empire.

[madam-o]

The first second I saw him, I hated this Gorillaz art style-lookin muthafucker.

Honestly, I think Rampart got Crosshair at least 70% of the way to being Done, and this little shitstain totally clinched it.

[mrsfeiix]

Haha…..comedy

[feniksiara]

SPOILERS FOR THE NEW BAD BATCH EPISODE(The Outpost)

So we're all collectively agreeing that Mayday is too gorgeous and iconic to die right?

He lived and when Crosshair joins his brothers back he brings Mayday with him thus continuing their accidental adoptions of regs.

They're all confused and meanwhile Crosshair's like "this is my emotional support reg and if anything happens to him I'll kill everyone on this ship and then myself"

[igige]

tbb s2e12 spoiler oops

i made them urple

wraps them in quilts gives them hot chocolate puts them next to fireplace puts on movie maybe even sews them both lulas

ty tbb the latest episode was very happy /s

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Look at that handsome face 🥰

We miss you, buddy. 😭 Gone too soon but never forgotten. 😔

[the-dathomirian-jedi]

THE FUCKING OUTPOST HOLY SHIT

[cienie-isengardu]

TBB: The Outpost

As a foreword, I want make it clear I watched overall only a few episodes (from the season two alone just the two-part premiere, the one with “Scorch” and Crosshair-centric “The Solitary Clone” and “The Outpost” solely to see how far Crosshair can be pushed before he kill any imperial [non-cloned] officer) so I may missing some serious context. Like why the Empire would demobilize it's one fully trained army (clones) so early in Palpatine’s regime since clones are still healthy and capable soldiers that obey orders (in contrast to the new recruit(s) from season one?) and serve without being paid. Unless this is again about the chip-in-brain nonsense that the show doesn’t seem to remember anymore?

Anyway, the two things that made me satisfied - and really this is the first TBB episode in S02 (and one of few in general) I would call great and interesting - are the visible change in Crosshair’s behavior and the shift in imperial army (and how the new cadre of officers differs from Vader).

The Mayday was the first clone that showed Crosshair any basic kindness - the scene of sharing the heater when they barely knew each other  contrasts drastically with how clones did not want to share the same table with him in the previous episode. And sure, Cody was nice to him too but Cody was already a comrade from the previous war while Meyday was a total stranger who did not blink at all at the mention of Crosshair being one of the Clone Forces 99. And Crosshair latched on this kindness? He said “no point in carrying deadweight” but then carried dying Mayday through the snow and even begged Nolan to save his companion. There are some really interesting changes happening in Crosshair in the face of casual and intentional abuse.

The other thing that nagged me through the whole episode is that Vader would do much better than Nolan. Although the situation was not 100% the same, he did better in Marvel comics when three heavily injured troopers were denied medical help by an officer who did not care to check tapes from the mission and acted solely on the fact that those men killed a sergeant (they did it to fulfill mission). And Vader killed the officer instead of the soldiers, because he acknowledged their loyalty and willingness to sacrifice everything for the mission.

Crosshair and Mayday did not retrieve stolen cargo but they eliminated the whole camp of the enemy and that in the grand scheme of things could prevent losing more equipment in the future so it wasn’t a total failure on their part. But Nolan did not even bother to ask what the clones achieved, doesn’t even care to hear rapport but judged them on the spot.

And when the Sith Lord is capable of showing care for common troopers but your average imperial officer can’t - doesn’t want - then you get a clear and horrible picture of the imperial army. What is also a great point about this show - those new officers have zero battle experiences, no real achievements to support their own authority and openly abuse their power over those serving under them. Abuse those without the right social and political position or origin and soon, with passing time, this corruption will be the norm. Because of it,  many capable soldiers will be shunned. Now it is clones, in future people born and raised in Outer Rim. And Vader is one of few high ranked Imperials who won’t care for people’s personal origin, family connection or even species, only for the skills.

Which is why I think the scene would play differently with Vader there (as in, he most likely would go himself to hunt down the enemy or maybe even break Nolan’s neck for wasting the good potential of loyal troopers. Shame Crosshair didn’t have a chance to join Vader’s 501st Legion, his life wouldn’t be so depressed lke it is now. 

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.5 - Betrayal

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday, Lieutenant Nolan Word Count: ~1640 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: As Mayday’s life leaches out into the snow, Crosshair takes a stand.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place Read Part 2.1 - Last Chance Read Part 2.2 - Broken Read Part 2.3 - Swept Away Read Part 2.4 - Grief

The hum of a shuttle soaring overhead was the first sign they were nearing the depot. Then the cargo transports came into view, flying in formation, scattering a nearby spiral of ice vultures which screeched in protest at having their serene airspace disturbed.

Crosshair kept his face upturned to the sky long after the shuttles had passed beyond the mountain ridge, tracking the sound of their engines. He heard the pitch of their engines change to a high whine, knew they must be landing.

Which meant they were almost back at the outpost.

Mayday had slumped so bonelessly against his side when he stopped, that he had a hard time jostling the man to movement again.

“Mayday… come on. We’re almost there.”

Mayday groaned as he staggered forwards two steps before stopping again, shaking his head.

“I can’t.” With a tremor that shook his whole body he crashed to his knees, sliding through Crosshair’s grasping arms before the sniper could catch him. For a moment he teetered, knelt up high, before slumping forwards into the snow.

Crosshair was at his side instantly, rolling him over, lifting his shoulders to cradle him against his chest. The commander’s body was leaden, barely able to take his own weight.

“Sorry to let you down, lad.” Mayday’s voice bubbled wetly through the vocoder, choked with remorse.

“You’re not letting me down.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a reassurance, or an instruction. From the way Mayday huffed a pained laugh, he guessed the commander had taken it as the latter.

Crosshair stroked his shaking fingers across Mayday’s helmet, dusting away snow until he could see clean plastoid. “Come on. Just a little bit further.”

This time he gave his rifle to Mayday, letting the man use it as a crutch. It wasn’t like it was needed for its real purpose right now.

A terrifying, yawning pit inside him wondered if he’d ever raise a rifle for the Empire again.

*

A cacophony of cries greeted their appearance as the two clones gained the edge of the hard-standing.

“Over there-”

“Look! It’s them!”

Crosshair’s gaze slid across the clean, white armour and blank black visors that stared back at him. Almost half the Imperial troopers had abandoned their tasks, gravitating towards the returning clones.

Mayday’s heartache at being forced to strip his armour paint echoed in Crosshair’s mind. The clones had fought so hard for their individuality. And here were the Imperial soldiers, disparate men from disparate worlds, all lining up to be subsumed; to dress as one, act as one, to turn their free thought over to the will of the Empire.

Crosshair couldn’t remember now which part of him had wanted that so badly. Could barely remember why he had fought – pleaded – demanded that Hunter join him.

He’d had such high hopes when it all began. The Empire promised a bright future for those who proved their loyalty. He was one of the elite, and he was going to take advantage of everything the Empire had to offer.

Him and Wrecker, standing in the newly furnished armoury. Tears glazing his eyes at the promise of the greatness they would attain.

“Step aside, step aside!”

The piercing voice shattered his rumination. Raising his head wearily, Crosshair locked eyes with the blue-eyed glare of Lieutenant Nolan.

The man didn’t cross to meet them. He ordered the Imperial troopers away, then stood and watched every laboured step that Crosshair took – that Mayday took – to draw closer to him.

The rifle barrel skidded on the hard floor, sending the gun sliding out from its position as Mayday’s crutch. The commander sagged and Crosshair barely caught him, managing to hold him upright as he walked determinedly to face Nolan.

He felt lightheaded, his consciousness floating somewhere outside his body. It was like someone had hollowed out his bones and poured a sweet cushion of sedative in there instead. Vaguely, he was aware that it was fatigue and lack of food; but that small, logical voice was lost amongst the suffocating rise of anxiety that swelled in his gut at the Imperial’s cold stare.

Mayday’s feet dragged, then caught on a seam in the ground. He dropped to his knees, plastoid clacking and cracking against the hard surface. Crosshair eased him down until Mayday was on the floor, unable to do more than lay there and pant.

He stayed at his side, tilting his haggared face up to Nolan with eyes squinting against the sun-bright sky.

Nolan merely sniffed, pale nose pink with the cold.

“About time you two returned.”

Crosshair’s breath came unevenly, staccato gasps as his sides burned with acid buildup. He’d been walking so long that now he had stopped, he could no longer silence his muscles’ screaming protest.

Still, he managed to gasp out his plea.

“He needs a medic.”

As if to punctuate his remark, Mayday’s chest spasmed in a weak, sodden cough. For the first time since the avalanche Crosshair brought his hands to Mayday’s helmet, gently releasing the seals and lifting the protective gear from the commander’s head.

Mayday’s skin was ashen, eyes rolling to whites in his head. Blood rimmed the white of his teeth and flecked his lips as another spasm shuddered through him.

Nolan didn’t move. He kept his hands behind his back, toes neatly turned out as he surveyed the fallen clones.

“I see you didn’t retrieve the crates… which means you’ve failed your mission.”

Crosshair braced both hands against the floor, dropping his head briefly between his shoulders. Then he looked up again, pain etched into his features.

“Did you hear what I said? Help him!”

The lieutenant gave an irate sniff. “Certainly not. That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

Now Crosshair dropped his gaze from the lieutenant, unable to stare into those cold, impatient eyes as he spoke. He took two breaths, trying to steady his voice.

It almost worked.

“He’ll… He’ll die.”

He hadn’t meant for the plaintive note to creep into his words, but now as Mayday choked on a bubble of blood in his throat Crosshair didn’t care what the lieutenant thought of them. He leaned down, placing one hand carefully on Mayday’s shoulder and tipping him onto his side until the trickle of blood drained from the corner of his mouth, dripping into his beard, onto the frozen floor.

Mayday’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest of smiles curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad I got… t’meet you… Crosshair.”

The Imperial was forgotten as Crosshair pressed his hands to Mayday’s cheeks, bending to rest their foreheads together. He scrunched his eyes shut, mouth crumpling with threatened tears.

“You can’t go.”

“Sorry, lad. These things happen.”

Crosshair bared his teeth in a grimace to bite back his howl, rage at the unfairness of it all burning through him.

The commander’s voice was so faint, Crosshair had to strain to hear the scratchy words.

“Don’t give up.”

Then his breath shuddered out, an exhale without end, and he was gone.

Crosshair clawed his fingertips against Mayday’s beard, choking on a sob. With infinite tenderness he laid the commander’s head against the hard floor of the depot, then turned his desolate gaze back to the lieutenant.

Nolan merely watched him with narrowed eyes.

“He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire,” he intoned callously.

Wracked with grief, Crosshair shook his head. Words growled up from his chest in a voice he barely recognised.

“You… you could have saved him.”

Now Nolan stepped towards him, looming over the sniper where he sagged on his knees.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me.” His voice was thin and threaded with disdain. “He is expendable… as are you.” His ice-blue eyes narrowed with such vehement hatred that Crosshair shrank back, positioning himself protectively in front of Mayday’s body. “And if you speak to me again with such disrespect…” His gaze flicked briefly to the dead commander, disgust curling his lip. “I’ll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.”

Crosshair heaved in a breath, brown eyes wide with agony as his gaze riveted on the Imperial’s.

“Now leave him, and get back to work… whilst you’re still useful.”

And that was it. Nolan was turning away, grinding his heel into the ground, to walk straight-backed towards the cargo pallets once more. Leaving Crosshair alone with Mayday.

Mayday. After all his promises, Mayday still betrayed him. Still abandoned him for the embrace of death.

No. Mayday didn’t betray him. The Empire did.

The lieutenant could have acted. Could have ordered the medics to save Mayday’s life.

Despairing, Crosshair tilted his head back as far as his neck would crane, gazing up into the blank expanse of the sky.

How had he been so blind? With all his enhanced sight, he hadn’t seen what the Empire was about until it was too late. Too late to undo the damage.

Mayday didn’t choose to leave him. The Empire tore him away with their callous disregard of the clones’ lives.

A lone ice vulture wheeled across the sky, it’s harsh call echoing off the mountains.

Galvanising Crosshair to action.

If things couldn’t be mended, they could be avenged.

Briefly Crosshair dropped his chest to curl in on himself, glancing to the side from the cave of his arms to scan Mayday’s face, contorted with pain. No peace in death.

He grit his teeth together at the surge of fury that summoned, and with the last vestiges of his strength pulled to his feet.

“Lieutenant.”

The word was an insult. A demand. Look at me.

The man turned, face already twisting in a scowl.

Crosshair’s left arm raised. A pistol was in his hand, the rarely-used sidearm levelled at the lieutenant’s chest.

Nolan’s eyes widened. Realisation flickered in the panicked dilation of his pupils.

It only lasted a moment before Crosshair shot.

Read Part 3.0 - Epilogue (Return To The Outpost)

Aaaaand we're done! (Well not quite... we all know Crosshair eventually returns to the Outpost, so stick around for the epilogue which will be posted in the coming days)

But we're done with my contribution to the #littlekyberthoughts Angstpril writing challenge! 10 prompts across the month of April, 1 angsty multi-chapter fic... I hope you have enjoyed reading!

As ever big shout out to writing buddies @the-little-moment and @kybercrystals94, Kyber will be providing the final fic of Angstpril tomorrow and then Little-Moment will follow up with a roundup of all our posts.

But the hugest thank you for this fic goes to my awesome teenager! When I was invited to do this challenge I didn't have a clue what to write, and had no idea how I was going to fill even one prompt, let alone all ten. Then my kiddo said, "Can you write a story about Mayday and his squad for the Frozen prompt?" and the rest fell into place! (Sorry kiddo for making you cry with Part 2.4, please forgive me...)

Have you enjoyed reading? Had a favourite chapter? Have you been with Mayday since the beginning, or did you join the story with Crosshair in Part 2? Drop me a comment to let me know your favourite part, I've had so much fun writing this fic and I'd love to know what you thought :)