I was inspired by a post pointing out Shaw's expression when Geordi is talking to Shaw and just had to draw it. And rewatching the scene got me to draw the second image~
I was hit with PAINFUL inspiration for another Shaw piece because this man gives me a LOT OF FEELS.
Also, with Wolf 359 happening 30-34ish years prior, if Shaw is his actor's age Liam would have been 19-24ish years old. Like, it was obviously horrible and an unbelievable amount of terror on EVERYONE involved. But surviving the way he did on top of all the rest? That's a LOT to carry.
Happy #RebelsRemembered !! Some of my favourite work from the past years. (I really do want to draw some more). But this was a wonderful series, with a fantastic cast. I miss these characters, I want more of them. Especially in animation~ Here's hoping one day!
Title: Purpose
Summary: Wandering thoughts plague Crosshair as he readies for another mission.
Word Count: 1,112
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Outside is the cold, and inside are the rules.
Outside has the endless waves, and inside has the repeating pain.
There is no beyond where we belong. A place of peace where we can dream.
For here is Home.
Home is where we have each other.
Home is where there’s fragile peace.
Home is where we get to live.
Before we’ll die on a battlefield.
What do you do when you’re the different one?
The different one among the different ones.
Sure they’d make fun of Tech and his brains, but those brains came in handy more often than they liked. That fact was always made worse by being sure Tech was then all high and mighty about himself even if he didn’t always say it. His eyes always gave it away.
Or maybe that was projection.
Best to not dwell on it.
Wrecker, the big lug, was obviously great at moving things. Also great for a laugh. While he wasn’t as brainy as Tech, he was far far smarter than most would expect. But you had to get to know him. See him. Most didn't put in that time. They hardly put in that time sometimes. Thankfully over years, they’d seen those brains enough to know they were there. They knew their brother wasn’t dumb. But sometimes…
Sometimes…
His antics could still be too much.
Then there was Hunter. A tracker. Sure he had other skills too, but being able to follow bunnies in a forest was a teasable way of putting it. In reality he was a good leader. Or at least as good as any of them could be if any of them wanted to apply themselves to it. But Hunter was the go-getter. The “cheerleader” as other people on other worlds in other situations might put it. He’d grown into the role. And they’d let him. They would argue and he would argue with him when the time was right. But nearly every time, no matter the arguing, no matter the groaning, they’d get the job done.
Because he had the good ideas.
And because he would also listen to them.
Hunter preferred group effort over trying to angle himself as being the best.
And that’s why they’d let him be the leader. Because they each knew they’d be bad at that part.
Echo… Echo was a Reg. Which meant he had to be good at everything and could only truly stand out by his own hard work and merits. There wasn’t a thing that made him him. He just was. A whole. Or… well.. Whole-ish. Considering everything that had happened.
Still. Echo was Echo. A Reg, but not. He was more now, by having less of himself. The ordeals he’d gone through. Everything.
In a way that’s what made Echo intimidating. Hearing him talk about his brothers. It was always so different than them. Hearing that they’d had talk of a future beyond the war? That they’d wonder what would happen to them? That they’d had, even senseless, talks of wives and or husbands, or dressing how they wanted.
Hearing they had dreams?
It’s so unfamiliar.
So alien.
But even then. Echo still fit with them. No… he fit with them.
Walking down the silent hall, Crosshair’s footfalls gently echoed. Somewhere ahead, and somewhere behind there were troopers walking. Others were talking. But here, in this moment. It was only him on his own.
This never would have happened before. His brothers would be waiting for him. Even obnoxiously so when he was coming out of the fresher.
“You didn’t have to come here for me.”
“HA! Had to make sure you didn’t need any help.”
Wrecker… the world was too quiet without him.
With a sharp shake of his head he continued down the hall. Passing troopers who he knew eyed him from under their helmets. Yet not one would say a word. The ones who did would only refer to him by rank, and then their voice would make it clear that they were no Clone.
It was easier to think of what his brothers were missing. By not being here with him. He knew the roles they each fit into. Knew what each was good at. Knew what he was good at.
And as he entered his room, and began to change and don his gear, he paused upon seeing his helmet. A sick, and twisted knot that squirmed and hissed inside his chest flared up as if poked by a red hot stick.
Why hadn’t he just left with them?
He was fucking miserable.
No. He was doing good. He had a duty to do. He had a job to do.
He had a job, a task that he was kriffing made for, and he was going to do it until he DIED!
The sound of his tired sigh was barely audible in his silent room. Why weren’t they here with him? They’d be together? They’d always been together… Even when Wrecker was hurt, they all crowded his medical bed and had stayed with him.
They’d always broken the rules and made themselves as uncomfortable as needed to be there for each other.
Until now.
Picking up his helmet he stared at the visor. Looking at his grim expression before donning it.
Why hadn’t he left with them?
Because while Tech had his brains, Wrecker had his empathy and strength, Hunter his leadership, and Echo his ability to do a bit of everything, especially hacking…
What did he have?
What mighty and unique gift did he himself have?
He had his steady hands.
Which let him kill.
He was a killer.
The best shot of them all. He’d argue of any of the Clones made. That was his thing.
So what does the best killer in the greatest army do out there?
Nothing.
You do nothing out there.
Your usefulness ends.
Your purpose for existing. Ends.
With an aggravated breath intended to try to clear his head, Crosshair exited out of his room. His stride carried him swiftly down the halls. His posture and steps making it clear he didn’t want to be messed with or bothered.
Was it worth it? Having a purpose but being alone?
Was it still worth it after hearing of more Clones defecting? Or hearing of ones who began questioning their orders and subsequently disappeared or were arrested?
It had to be.
Because as Tech said this was his nature. What was the point of fighting it?
What was the point of fighting it if they weren’t going to help fight for him?
gamechangershow
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
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