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Brother, Hold Me Up

Part 2: Hunted Chapter 17: You Can't Hide

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Mature Word Count: 104,849 Chapter Word Count: 6,423 Summary: On their quest to find Mount Tantiss, the Bad Batch run into an unexpected adversary who is hunting Omega. During an altercation it is revealed to Hunter that he is none other than Tech, their dead brother. Primary mission: bring him home. Chapter Summary: Hunter, Crosshair, Echo, and Omega try to make it off Lau with two gunships in pursuit. Tech arrives back at Tantiss. Hemlock has plans of his own. A/N: Happy Bad Batch day! Or not. You're about to be destroyed. Writing this, I was also destroyed. Look, as some of you know, I love Hemlock (yes, I know I have issues, I like being disturbed by him), but he was so intense and horrifying in this I needed not one, but two showers after writing his scenes. If this had to have end credits music it'd be "Goodbye" by Ramsey for season 1 of Arcane. I highly recommend listening to it afterward. It's just perfect in such a heart rending way. I hope to come out with the next chapter next week, but I may have burnt myself out, so it might be two weeks you have to wait before the next one. WARNINGS: Torture, non-graphic rape mention READ ON AO3

Wrecker lay on the floor, choking, gasping, trying to scream. Every nerve seemed to be on fire, torment all he breathed. The door slid open, footsteps echoing and ringing in his ears. Every muscle was tense, writhing with what bare amounts of energy he had, and quickly using it up.

A tall figure walked around the console, and crouched by him.

Hemlock's pale face and dark hair wavered and doubled, tripled in Wrecker's vision. His blue eyes were plasma blasts, nearly hurting as much as the gas.

Something was wrong with this.

What was it?

It wasn't till Hemlock inhaled deeply that Wrecker realized he should be getting tortured just as he was.

How can he breathe this?

Hemlock's voice echoed, words difficult to make sense of as he said, "I see you decided to acquaint yourself with this toxin in much the same way as Crosshair. He didn't care for it either. I, on the other hand…" Hemlock inhaled deeply again, finishing his point by groaning in a way that made Wrecker even more nauseous. "Now, what were you attempting to do? Not escape. Not that."

No, no.

Wrecker tried to speak, but could only survive, so close to losing himself with each breath.

Hemlock stood, stepping over him. The quick invasion of his space had him clawing at the floor, trying to dig himself more room.

A deep laugh left Hemlock, and the taps of buttons and flicks of switches played like drums in Wrecker's ears. The whole world seemed to pulse and pound and swirl around him.

"No wonder you ensured your capture," he said. "Sending out this base's location? I'd almost call it clever. Almost." Hemlock crouched down by him again. "Hmm, it's too bad you don't have Tech on your side. Now he is clever."

Wrecker's back arched, hand scrabbling uselessly as he tried to surge up and grab Hemlock, anger like a newborn star joining the electric fire in him. His ghost limb, caught in mud, spasmed.

Hemlock's grin surrounded him, seeping into his nerves like the gas. Tears formed, ready to fall.

"Yes, Tech is alive, and oh, you'd be lying here for hours if I told you even a fraction of what I've done to him."

Another laugh left him, echoing all around Wrecker. His torso shuddered as he battled sobs.

"The best part is, he is my property. Every cell in his body, every thought in his mind—all working in service to me. I am more than eager to watch him tear you apart."

The next laugh Hemlock let out seemed to nearly kill Wrecker. He was in too much agony to flinch as he patted his chest, his hand like a brand burning through his tunic and bandages to his bare skin.

He rose, and Wrecker was vaguely aware of him saying to some troopers, "Secure CT-9903 back in his cell. Then take me to Dr. Karr. I wish to be present when she wakes."

Everything became yellow gas, and Wrecker's body began to spasm. Consciousness flew from him.

***

Thick, rolling clouds nearly as dark as the night surrounded them, wind and snow and ice rattling the whole ship with so much force that Hunter felt the vibrations in his feet. They traveled up his legs, nearly turning painful. Soon his legs would become numb.

If they could just get above the storm, then maybe they'd have a chance. Hunter tried not to think about the star destroyer the gunships would have come from, but a small part of him was already considering abandoning the mission for the safety of everyone onboard.

Even if it meant abandoning Wrecker, and Tech.

As much as Hunter wished to head up at a steep angle, the winds would knock the ship down in seconds.

Not knowing when the gunships would catch up, he and Omega scissored the ship through the air—well, as best they could with the wind. What it ended up looking like was them wavering around in the sky, making some headway, but not as much as he wanted, or as much as they needed, jets sputtering. The forty-five degree angle they were at was nearly too steep, the storm trying to knock them back down. Everything was storming clouds and black night, Hunter's heart racing, wondering when the Empire would be upon them. He thought he could sense the ships, but the storm had thrown his senses into chaos.

A green particle beam lit up the sky to their starboard side, ramming into their shields. They fishtailed violently from the force of it, Hunter's neck cramping to try and keep his head in position.

Well, that's going to hurt tomorrow.

The Marauder nearly spun into a roll. The yoke vibrated in Hunter's hands, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to pull out of it.

"Crosshair, can you get a lock on them?" Hunter cried.

"No, the cloud layer's too thick."

"Maybe if we fly back down into the ravine, we could have them follow us, and pick them off that way," Omega suggested.

A smile nearly lit Hunter's face. She was thinking just like Tech, though there was one problem:

"Only Tech could pull that off in this storm."

"But—"

"We keep going up." Hunter's tone was firm.

Suddenly, particle beams flashed before them from both sides, and Hunter had to angle the Marauder back down to avoid it. There was a shudder as a beam made contact with their dorsal fin, the ship trying to roll toward their starboard side, yawing into their negatives by a few degrees.

What would Tech do?

Hunter couldn't help smiling as it came to him.

"Omega, hang on!"

He kept them pitching down, and gritted his teeth as he twirled the ship as fast as he could. Hunter used the momentum from the energy converters to shoot back upwards in a swoop, hopefully getting ahead of the gunships.

Crosshair started firing.

And so did the gunships.

Flying became mostly training and guesswork, but Hunter figured the storm was as confusing for the gunships as it was for them. Where they could, the gunships kept trying to keep the Marauder heading back toward the surface, cutting off escape.

Even with poor visibility, having an enemy above them in a fight was incredibly dangerous, and that was where the gunships stayed, firing to cut off any retreat or advance.

Not sure why he did it, but listening to his gut (even as it felt like it was pushed right up against his spine from the speed they were flying at), Hunter rolled them to their port side, and with Omega's help initiated a Tech turn, but on the y axis, essentially having them loop back in the direction they were going in. The Marauder shot past the gunship that had been on their tail, leading both now in a chase, opening them up to fire from the rear guns.

"Got one!" Crosshair cried within seconds.

Even in the storm, Hunter sensed the flames, heard the destruction as metal tore and burned and men died.

"One to go," Echo said.

Omega seemed to move faster than Hunter, swooping the Marauder from side to side, avoiding particle beams that screamed past them like lightning. Not having to worry about friendly fire in this confusing mess, the remaining gunship now fired upon them with unbridled fervor.

Scissoring through the air was the only way they avoided most of the fire, though the shields wouldn't be able to hold for much longer.

"Hunter, pull up!" Omega suddenly cried.

"If we pull up any steeper, the winds will knock us down."

"Just pull up!"

There was no time to argue, and she sounded so insistent that he listened.

The wind knocked them back as their incline grew steeper, and a hot, sickly smell began to suffuse its way through the ship… but the gunship soared right through their previous position. It would have rammed into them if they had stayed on their previous course. The gunship was clearly guessing as much as they were.

The sensors caught on to what Hunter had smelled, flaring in alarm.

"The engines are overheating," Echo informed them.

Omega seemed to know what Hunter was thinking, setting the keel as their source of gravity.

Still, in case the acceleration of the winds was stronger, Hunter called, "Hold on!"

Dear Force, I hope we're high enough for this.

He killed the engines. The Marauder plummeted.

***

Emerie shifted where she lay. Something felt heavy about this drowsiness, and her head throbbed. She tried to open her eyes, to fight it, but so far she was held down.

"Curious how your access card was used in not one, but two, incidents involving members of Clone Force Ninety-Nine gaining temporary freedom within this base."

Hemlock's words had Emerie stiffen, heart pounding so loud she swore he would be able to hear it.

Perhaps if she didn't open her eyes…

"I know you're awake."

Trying to force a deep breath in, Emerie opened her eyes. Despite the dim room she'd been laid in, the light still seemed too bright, eyes watering, the throbbing in her head worsening.

She pushed through it, forcing herself to sit up, turning to face Hemlock who sat on a stool by her. Her access card was held in his left hand. He turned it over, not looking at her.

Taking in her surroundings with him present was difficult, like his very existence sucked in everything around it. For years that had been a good thing to her, and now…

She was in a private room in what might be the medbay, a door only a meter from her. Part of her worried if she would be able to open it and walk out.

"They overpowered me," she lied. "What did you expect? That I could fight them?"

Lying to him had her feeling much too hot, heart pounding as she waited to see if he believed her. She'd never lied to him before, and it left her stomach aching.

"The vast majority of our prisoners have military training, and yet you've never had an issue with them."

"You know Clone Force Ninety-Nine has unorthodox methods."

"That they do."

Hemlock rose, Emerie straightening to try and not have him towering over her from where she sat on the cot.

"I am also aware of their frustrating ability to find allies in unlikely places."

He finished the sentence, eyes boring into her.

Emerie's mouth had gone dry, and she found it was open as she struggled to think of something to say.

Hemlock fiddled with her access card, threading it between his fingers. With a sigh, he held it up, his other hand resting on the cot beside her, nearly touching her hip and thigh. This had her just about breathing the same air as him, looking up at him.

"Did I err in making you Chief Scientist, Dr. Karr?"

Usually when he didn't refer to her as Emerie, she felt detached from him, like she'd done something wrong, like she didn't deserve the relationship they'd built over the years with her as his personal assistant. Now it was a threat, being held before her like her access card.

"No, D-Doctor."

His left eyebrow rose. "No? Are you confident of that?" He leaned in, till his breath was on her, a shudder running through her at the sensation. His voice grew softer as he spoke, "I will allow you to walk free, Emerie, but I want you to think about something—very—carefully. Omega will be held in the Vault once she is in my possession, and you know far more than anyone that simply keeping her confined with the other M-count specimens will be a mercy compared to what else I am capable of."

He paused, letting Omega with her strength, and her love, fill her mind; letting all her thoughts focus on her sister, her hope for a life less lonely than the one she'd been forced upon. Emerie clutched the cot like it was the only thing tethering her to the planet.

"Have you ever deeply considered the torment of solitary confinement?" Hemlock asked, tone almost conversational. "Oh, it's dreadful." His voice took on a pleased note that left her trembling, and he'd leaned in to speak into her ear, lips so close her brain imagined she could feel them hot and soft against her. His hands weren't on her, but they might as well have been, holding her in place while fear for Omega ran hot through her like a live wire, breaking her out in a cold sweat. "In the first week prisoners experience panic, like the walls are closing in around them, each sound and stimuli growing more insistent till they're an agony. Even the most intelligent of prisoners can no longer focus, failing to think clearly. There's anger, terror.

"Twenty-five percent of prisoners begin to experience hallucinations and delusions after the first week. They lose sense of time, reality, hearing things that aren't there, perceptual distortions. Many become paranoid, thinking their every moment is watched. That's when the headaches start—the dizziness, the insomnia, even heart palpitations.

"And then it gets so—much—worse. They become apathetic, hopeless, and the hippocampus shrivels. I know you understand what that means: memory and emotional regulation cease to function properly. They eventually lose the ability to interact with other life-forms.

"Were you aware neurons in the brain can shrink in prolonged solitary confinement? They do so until the behavioral changes and social dysfunction become permanent, and damage to the hippocampus, and amygdala, are irreversible… if they even live that long, if they haven't already found a way to take their own life."

He laughed, making Emerie flinch, her eyes squeezing shut.

A tear fell.

"Of course, I need what's in Omega's blood, so she won't be completely confined. But I am curious to know what it does to a person to only be taken from solitary confinement for… torture. Hmm, I wonder if she'll enjoy it. It's quite a fascinating thing to think on, isn't it, Emerie?"

He did touch her then, taking her trembling right hand in his left one, and turning it over. She jumped as he placed the access card into her palm, his left hand closing over hers, wrapping her fingers around it.

Finally, he pulled away, and Emerie gasped, feeling like she hadn't breathed in minutes, her head spinning. She had the strong urge to wipe her hand against her trousers, like she'd touched something vile. Being afraid of him was quite a new experience for her, and it left her confused. How could the man she'd worked beside for years, looked up to, terrify her this much? Had she done something wrong? What if she had, what if Omega was wrong, Clone Force 99 was wrong, and Hemlock was right? Yet if he was right, then why did she feel so awful?

Meeting his gaze in that moment was one of the hardest things she'd ever faced in her entire life, which said much seeing as she'd been cast aside by Nala Se as a child.

She almost dropped her gaze, each second she held it like fighting for her very survival.

Those glacial blue eyes she had thought she'd known were a mystery to her, holding depths she'd never imagined.

Yet, what if she was seeing something that wasn't there, seeing a monster where there was only a man?

"I trust you won't disobey me again."

"No, Doctor."

The words were like swallowing poison, and nausea fluttered in her stomach. Her fingers clasped her access card tightly, and she fought to not have her other hand go to her abdomen, not wanting to show further weakness.

His smile left her feeling like she was falling.

A ping sounded at the door, making her jump, eyes closing tightly. More tears fell.

"Enter," Hemlock called.

Emerie quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, turning her head away and down.

The door whooshed open, an Imperial Commando stepping in. She was just thankful it wasn't Commander Scorch, as he was on Lau.

"Yes?" Hemlock asked, not turning from Emerie.

"CX-2's vessel is on approach, sir."

Those words had Emerie shudder, thinking of Wrecker, of Omega. She'd never told her sister Tech was alive.

Maybe I'm just as bad as Hemlock.

"Excellent." To Emerie he said, "Are any further words required?"

She shook her head, lips clamped tightly shut to hold in a sob.

"Continue your work in the Vault," Hemlock ordered. "I'll handle CX-2 on my own."

As soon as Hemlock and the Imperial Commando left, Emerie hunched over around a sob. The walls closed in, and she gasped for breath, pulling at the collar of her tunic, shaking so hard it was a wonder she could move at all.

When she did sob, she covered her mouth, not wanting to be heard. Though, Tantiss was no stranger to hopeless tears. Her tears joined those of the other clones who were Hemlock's property, never to be heard by the galaxy at large.

Even with the keel as their source of gravity, Hunter was still pushed back into his seat, having the sense like he was about to be crushed, as the Marauder fell. They couldn't hold this for too long, but he wanted to give the engines a break, and perhaps use the energy of their fall to shoot back up.

This gave them a tactical advantage as well, making them harder to locate. The gunship was equipped with sensors, as was the Marauder, but in this storm they were barely functional.

Thankfully the smell of the engines overheating dissipated somewhat.

"You could have at least warned us you were going to be as insane as Tech!" Crosshair called.

Hunter's whole body tingled, his stomach feeling like it was going to fly up out of his mouth, black spots flickered in his vision. With a roar, he restarted the engine, and it took both him and Omega to pull them up out of their fall. The boost of energy to the converters had them shooting back up, higher, higher.

They moved faster than sound, altitude nearly at sixty thousand feet. Hopefully at sixty thousand feet they'd be out of the storm.

Hunter's ears popped, the screaming winds now muffled.

They lost their momentum, though thankfully the cloud layer seemed to be thinning. Hunter and Omega decreased the pitch, knowing the ship couldn't keep up this speed in this storm without serious damage to the engine. Even as it was, that sickly sweet burning smell was returning.

The only warning they had of the gunship was a quick blip on their sensors, and then green particle beams lit up the viewport.

***

Tech/CX-2 landed the Dagger on the landing pad on the side of the base opposite the hangar. His breath caught, stomach clenching at the sight of Hemlock on the edge of the platform, waiting for him. Training was the only thing that kept him from clutching at the datadrives in his pouch. He took deep breaths, easing the trembling that had started up in his body.

Everything was so confusing, his head aching, but maybe Hemlock could help with that.

No, that doesn't make sense.

Nothing did.

He exited the ship, stepping out into the warm, muggy air of Wayland. Clouds obscured the sky, threatening rain. His boots clanged with each step on the platform, the sounds somehow digging into his brain, like they were too loud, too much. Not raising his shoulders with each step was a battle.

To Hemlock's credit, he barely reacted to the blood Tech/CX-2 was covered in, just kept his hands clasped behind his back. In Hemlock's presence, Tech seemed to shrink, CX-2 holding him down. He was glad his face was covered, hiding the quick spasm of distress.

"The pirate's blood, I presume?"Hemlock asked.

"Yes, sir."

"No wonder she gave up the information we require." Turning toward the base, Hemlock said, "Follow me."

Tech wailed. CX-2 followed Hemlock into Tantiss in silence.

***

"The shields took a massive hit," Echo informed Hunter as they fought to keep their pitch at forty-five.

Hunter's hands were nearly numb at this point, though there was still that sense of shuddering, only dulled. If they survived, his hands would surely be aching later, the pain shooting up his arms.

"Are they holding?" Omega asked.

"For now."

Hunter initiated a turn to avoid the gunship, and to change the angle of attack. If he could get them behind them again…

The gunship did as predicted, swooping in an arc, chasing them.

They flew in a sinuous line, the gunship doing the same, Crosshair cursing at misses, and cheering at hits.

"I took out one of their guns!" Crosshair announced.

Green bolts shot past the Marauder, the flashes so consistent, and so bright that Hunter's eyes watered, a dull ache starting up behind them.

"We're nearly at sixty thousand feet," Omega informed him.

"Let's hope that's as high as this storm gets."

Crosshair yelled, "Hunter, the gunship's rolling."

Which meant they were going to try and get in tight, changing the angle of attack to thirty degrees, essentially making it difficult for the Marauder to fire upon them, or find an escape.

"We could initiate a high G turn," Echo suggested.

"On it!" Hunter called.

Hunter and Omega changed their pitch to ninety, soaring up, up, before turning in fast circles. In seconds, Hunter's vision tunneled, and he struggled to breathe, trying to focus as it felt like his entire body was getting crushed.

Come on, come on…

They shot out of the storm, and into open night. After the murk of the storm, the stars were too bright, but they might have been the only thing keeping Hunter conscious. That, and the horrible sight of what was up there.

The gunship fired from beneath them.

Particle beams hit home, the Marauder shuddering violently. They lost power to the shields. Alarms screamed that the engine was overheating again.

And above them, covering a vast expanse of the night, was a star destroyer.

Hunter leveled them out.

The star destroyer fired. It was sheer training and luck that had Hunter avoiding heavy laser fire.

"We have to jump to hyperspace," he gasped.

"But Wrecker!" Omega cried.

"We can't help Wrecker if we're dead. Echo, have the computer calculate the jump."

"And just give up the mission?" Omega asked.

"We need to leave the atmosphere first," Echo said.

"Whatever you're going to do, do it quick!" Crosshair shouted.

"Echo, one hit from one of those lasers and we're done for. We make the jump now."

"Tech would advise against this," he warned.

"Yeah, well, Tech's not here. Do it!"

Hyperspace surrounded them in streaking white lights just as a laser was about to tear through them.

Reality seemed to bend and twist around Hunter in rainbow bursts, stretching him to the brink of destruction. He might have attempted to reach out for Omega, but even his mind seemed distorted, random memories of Tech, and Wrecker playing through his head, till they seemed to be pulled from him, playing on the edges of hyperspace, voices echoing, tearing at his heart.

Reality snapped back together, the blue-white of hyperspace too calm after what they had just been through. They were all left gasping, and panting. Smoke wreathed up through the deck.

Omega rose on shaky legs, and stumbled into Hunter. He grabbed her arms to keep her steady, and she nearly tried to pull away. She took her helmet off, and it fell from her fingers. Tears wet her cheeks. Hunter removed his own helmet, wanting her to see his face.

Searching her brown eyes, he tried to think of something, anything, to say to her.

"I'm sorry, Omega," was all he could manage.

She hugged him, burying her face against his chest. Hunter pulled her tight against him, resting his chin on her head, reality slowly sinking in, pulling him down, a great pain surging up within his chest. Crosshair, and Echo managed to get themselves to the cockpit. Echo had his head in his hand, and Crosshair held his side, face pale, expression grave, free hand on Omega's shoulder.

Hunter looked them all in the eye, and saw the same pain there.

They'd failed.

He held Omega closer, squeezing his eyes shut. No one said anything about his tears.

"We'll get them back," he assured her, assured all of them. "We have to."

We have to.

***

Tech huddled in a corner in CX-2's mind while a medical scanner looked him over. Hemlock had a datapad in one hand, probably also using the chip in the back of his head to assess him. Thankfully he was allowed to sit on a lab table for this part, as blood loss was making him dizzy.

"Why do you have significant blood loss?" Hemlock asked.

"The pirate,"—Phee! Tech cried—"attempted to kill herself during interrogation. I"—we—"rendered medical attention, and gave her a blood transfusion to keep her alive long enough to give up the information."

"That was quite the risk," Hemlock observed, glancing up from the datapad.

Tech backed up into a corner, arms protecting his head, making it difficult for CX-2 to sit still. As it was, his eyes kept darting around, and following Hemlock's every movement rather than maintaining a neutral position.

Hemlock's brows furrowed, blue gaze calculating. CX-2 nearly closed his eyes as the machines picked up the rise in heart rate. He was sure his blood pressure had risen, as well.

Usually he had better control of himself. But that was when he wasn't filled with questions, and trying to hold back Tech. Even now Tech wanted to speak, to act, and he was Tech, even as he wasn't.

His mind returned to the datadrives, returned to those broken moments with Phee.

A droid hovering nearby began to ready CX-2 for a blood transfusion.

Hemlock placed the datapad down, and approached. Somehow CX-2 kept his muscles slack, though each one screamed to tense.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, even as he imagined the quick rush of pleasure his pain medications granted him, the way his stomach seemed to soar as he followed Hemlock's orders.

Hemlock stripped him of all weapons and devices, hands touching him like he expected compliance, like all of him was his property. CX-2 looked straight ahead as Hemlock found the datadrives.

"What are these?"

"Datadrives, sir."

"I can see that," Hemlock snapped. "Thank you, CX-2, for using your vast intellect to provide me with a well thought out and detailed answer. Now what do these contain?"

"Unknown, sir."

His voice might have quavered a tad, his heart rate rising.

Tech was now doing more than cowering. He was scrabbling at the walls in his mind, begging to be heard. He wanted Hemlock dead, wanted to leave this mountain and planet behind, wanted… his family.

CX-2 didn't even know who his family was, if he even had one.

Do I have one?

Where did I come from?

I don't understand.

See, you don't understand because I'm you, Tech said. You're me.

I am CX-2.

No, we're Tech.

My name is Tech.

I don't have a name!

"Really, Tech?" Hemlock breathed, sounding disappointed. "That's the story you're going with?"

CX-2 froze, fear shooting through him so intensely he swore he could hardly feel his body, even as it weighed him down, tethering him to a world so terrifying it froze the blood in his veins.

"I… I don't know…" Who's Tech?

Really, he wasn't entirely sure.

The droid shoved the catheter in his arm, making him grimace. Blood began to pump into him.

Restraints CX-2 hadn't known were there closed over his wrists and ankles. His eyes widened, breaths coming hard and fast through his nose. Only the knowledge that it was completely futile kept him from struggling, though his body trembled with the urge to do so.

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows, Tech ranted.

Hemlock inserted the datadrives into the console beside him. Tech struggled in his restraints as a hologram of Tech, and Phee appeared. He couldn't fully see Hemlock's face, but he was trying, needing to know his mood, what he'd do to him.

Memories of surgeries he'd somehow forgotten about were coming back to him, agonizing procedures that Hemlock had taken great pleasure in. Tech could barely breathe.

A long sigh left Hemlock.

"The fault is mine," he said. "I hadn't considered just how close you were to the pirate." He turned to him, the movement like a blow, having Tech jump—as much as his restraints allowed. "She's still alive, isn't she?"

"No."

A small smile graced Hemlock's face, Tech whimpering as he stepped closer.

And his head, oh his head! Tears ran, unbidden, from his right eye at the pain.

"Don't worry," Hemlock breathed, grabbing his jaw, touch nearly gentle. Even just this simple touch was like being defiled. "I'll soon take away your pain."

Something else flashed in his mind, making his whole body go cold, and his eyes widen, Hemlock's touch now burning.

"Y-y-you touched me," Tech said, not meaning to voice the words, though the memory wished to be released like water from a burst dam.

Hemlock raised his eyebrows, appearing amused.

"You'll have to be more specific than that, Tech. After all, how else was I supposed to save your life, create CX-2?"

"Not… that."

Hemlock's smile had Tech wishing he could curl in on himself, his mouth suddenly making too much saliva.

"Ah, yes. So you remember that now, don't you? How fascinating."

Tech was too overwhelmed with the past and present, and himself and CX-2, bleeding together, tearing at each other, his head feeling close to bursting, that he couldn't move as Hemlock caressed his lips. His touch left him shaking.

"What else do you remember?" Hemlock asked, voice taking on a low, hungry quality. "Do you remember enjoying yourself? I know I did, especially when you—"

Oh, blast, what will Phee think? What will anyone think?

What do I think?

Who am I?

"Stop!" Tech roared.

Hemlock laughed, hand stroking down his throat, nearly wrapping around it. Tech might have whimpered as he attempted—and failed—to pull away.

With a growl, Hemlock grabbed his jaw once more.

"You're lucky I don't have time to play."

The promise of what could almost have been left Tech trying to force himself to take deep breaths so he wouldn't be sick. Even with that particular memory there was plenty to be sick over.

Even as part of him needed eyes on Hemlock, his gaze drifted to the hologram, chest tight. Hemlock noticed; of course he did.

He tightened his grip. A gasp left Tech, and he struggled, trying to cope with just how much Hemlock's fingers could hurt. Hemlock then angled his head so that he could see himself in the hologram.

White clouds, and screaming air like blood rushing in his ears flashed through his mind, Omega screaming his name loud in his ears.

"You aren't that man anymore. You never will be again. After all, you came to me broken, just barely clinging to life. You are only breathing because of me, and you are only doing so now because I allow it. You're useful to me, Tech—your brain, your skills."

"Why?" Tech asked, not sure where the question had come from.

Why any of this? Why am I here? Why am I alive? Why am I not dead?

I'm supposed to be dead!

Please, I want—

Hemlock laughed, making him face him again. Tech in the hologram was in the corner of his vision.

"Why not? After all, you're quite special compared to the other clones." His other hand reached up, stroking his head, making Tech tug against his bruising grip. "The Kaminoans gave you the perfect brain, one far superior to the average life-form's. To have it in my service, well… it's quite exhilarating. That, and your skills and ways of thinking are beyond exceptional, even when leashed to my will.

"However, I can't abide weakness. You are that weakness, Tech: your emotions, your memories. Even now I can see them ripping you apart."

"Please, just let me go," he got out, nearly choking on held back sobs.

"Aw, you haven't begged for that in months."

He inhaled deeply, like he could smell his fear, his desperation, the splitting agony in his head. His face was far too close to Tech's for comfort, just centimeters apart, breath hot on him. A small moan came from him that had Tech grimacing.

"I will admit I have greatly missed that. But no matter. Just knowing I get to watch you become mine all over again is all the pleasure I need. That, and sending you to destroy your home."

"No, no, not Pabu. No, no, please."

A wild idea came to Tech in that moment, one born of fear, of pain, of distress so acute he wasn't even sure if the reality before him was real anymore (what if he was still falling on Eriadu?): he could bite down on the capsule in his mouth.

He didn't know what his tell was. Perhaps it was how he moved his jaw, the look in his right eye, but suddenly, Hemlock let go of him, and used his blaster to hit him with a stun blast. While a single shot no longer left him unconscious, it didn't feel good, especially when compiled with blood loss. The dark lab began to spin, tingles pounding through his body, everything becoming too hot, vision in his right eye tunneling, disjointed from the cybernetic one, leaving him nauseous.

By the time he knew what was happening, and the room had stopped spinning, Hemlock was holding his mouth open, pliers reaching inward.

"Why I ever installed the electro-capsule is beyond me."

Tech groaned as the pliers grabbed hold of said capsule, but he couldn't fight, still recovering from the stun blast.

No, no, no, no.

"Hubris of my own, I suppose," Hemlock went on, tone casual, which clashed with the way he tore the capsule from his mouth.

Ripping, hot pain stabbed through Tech's gums, blood gushing into his mouth, making him gag. He tried to spit it from his mouth, but he was in too much pain. Still, blood made its way past his lips, trickling down his chin.

When Hemlock released him, a droid hovered in to suck away the blood, and cauterize the wound, as invasive as Hemlock had been. Tech nearly choked, just struggling to breathe, to see Hemlock through the tears from his right eye. All he tasted was blood and burnt flesh, thin wisps of smoke curling up out of his mouth to his nose.

For a moment, Hemlock's face wreathed in smoke flashed in his mind, his tongue on fire as he branded it. Tech had grown quite used to the brand as CX-2, and hadn't even questioned its existence. Yet now…

Memory and reality bled together, leaving him dazed, not even sure of his own body.

Hemlock's comm beeped, and he answered it, as if he weren't busy torturing Tech.

The walls seemed to be closing in on him, every sensation too much, and he just wanted to scream, wanted a way out. Memories assaulted him, of things Hemlock had done to him, of things he himself had done at Hemlock's command. Through it all there was so much blood, and there were so—many—screams. There were enough screams to practically deafen him. And all the while he could have sworn his skull was splitting open.

Please, make it stop, make it stop.

"Do you have Clone Force Ninety-Nine, Commander Scorch?" Hemlock asked through his comm.

"No, sir. They jumped into hyperspace," a reg's voice answered.

Where the term reg had come from in his mind, Tech didn't even know.

"Can you track them?"

"No. There was a storm, the conditions—"

"No matter. Return to base."

"Sir?"

"I have learned exactly where Clone Force Ninety-Nine will be. I have the matter well in hand."

Please, not my family.

Hemlock looked back to Tech as he ended the call, a triumphant smile on his face.

The lab table began to recline, lying Tech down. He was being moved into a machine, similar to something he'd seen on Kamino.

A scream left him as he fought, thinking he almost remembered this, remembered the pain, his mind being altered.

"When you wake as CX-2, you will remember none of this," Hemlock told him. "And then you're being sent to Pabu to burn everything you love. You think you can fight me? You couldn't be more wrong. I have contingencies upon contingencies planned for. I will get what I want, what the Empire wants, no matter the cost, no matter who is in my way, or who I have to hurt. And right now, Tech, you are the one in my way."

I'm going to die. He's going to kill me.

After all, wasn't forgetting himself a kind of death?

"I don't want to die again," he cried out with a mouth that screeched in agony.

Hemlock stroked his face, Tech unable to pull away as something was injected into the line connected to his arm, his whole body going slack. He struggled with heaving gasps, moaning as memories of torment ripped him in two.

"Shh, it'll be over soon," Hemlock murmured.

There was a cruel smile on his face that reached his eyes, blazing with fervor.

The hologram of Tech laughed.

Hemlock removed his hand, reaching for the datadrives, other hand pressing buttons and settings like what he was doing to Tech was of no consequence. Electricity shot from the machine around Tech's head, seeming to pierce his very brain. His body contorted, a choked scream leaving him.

Hemlock removed the datadrives, Tech's laugh dying.

The clatter as he dropped the datadrives to the floor was somehow worse than the current shooting through him like a million needles stabbed deep into his splitting head. Rather, that clatter seemed to strip him bare, leaving him vulnerable to looming destruction, Hemlock hovering like a cruel, sadistic god of death.

"Goodbye, Tech."

Hemlock's heel slammed down on the datadrives.

Tech faded under a scorching haze of electricity the same blue as Hemlock's eyes.

END PART TWO