Rated: G | Words: 435 | Summary: Wrecker and Crosshair talk about their lost brother. | Character Focus: Wrecker, Crosshair
Wrecker groggily wakes to the sound of sure fingers typing. “Go to sleep, Tech,” he grumbles, turning over in the pull down bunk to face the wall.
The typing stops abruptly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Crosshair’s voice. Not Tech’s. Never Tech’s.
Tech is dead.
Wrecker rolls to his back, stares at the bunk above him. “Sorry,” he says.
Crosshair makes a scoffing noise. “What for? I woke you up.”
“I thought you were Tech for a second,” Wrecker says. “It just sounded…like he was here. The way you were typing. Haven’t heard typing like that since before.”
Crosshair is quiet for a few moments, and Wrecker isn’t sure he’s going to answer, and then, “Hunter types like a newborn blurrg’s first steps.”
Wrecker barks out a surprised laugh, turning his head to look at his brother. Crosshair smirks back at him.
“I missed you, Cross,” Wrecker says. “A whole lot.” He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly feeling sentimental, but the words need to be said.
He misses Tech. Every day.
But he also missed Crosshair.
Every day.
Crosshair blinks at him, smile dropping. He glances away. “I missed you too.”
Wrecker sits up, ducking his head so he doesn’t hit it on the upper bunk. He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Did Omega ever tell you about Tech winning a pod race?”
A half shrug and a nod. “A little. No details, but I got the gist of it.”
“You should’ve seen him,” Wrecker says, becoming animated. “He was the craziest racer there.”
Crosshair chuckles. “You sound surprised.”
“Nah,” Wrecker says. “Just proud of him.”
His little brother hums. “I would’ve liked to see that,” Crosshair mumbles, looking down at the data pad gone idle in his lap. He pecks one finger at the screen, igniting it to life, but he doesn’t do anything else with it. “There’s a lot of things I should’ve been here for.”
Wrecker swallows, but only lets his silence agree.
“Maybe,” Crosshair continues once the quiet between them has settled, “you can tell me what happened…with the pod race.”
Wrecker grins so big it hurts. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to share this story with Crosshair. All the details, even the ones he and Tech and Omega had carefully left out when reporting to Hunter and Echo.
“Well,” Wrecker says, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk. “I’ll have to start at the beginning.”
Crosshair rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Well, that’s obvious,” he snarks.
And kriff, if he doesn’t sound just like Tech when he says it.
@the-little-moment @just-here-with-my-thoughts, less than a week left of Angstpril! But that also means less than a week until the end of the Bad Batch 😭 I'm not ready!!
And I'm posting this story before the second to last episode airs just in case it ruins me emotionally....eeeeeep!
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Angstpril 2024 | Day 30 | Prompt 30: The Last Time
Rated: G | Words: 1562 | Summary: “...it was the last time…” | Character Focus: Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker, Echo
“Are you awake?” Tech’s voice asks, right at the edge of Hunter’s bunk.
Hunter doesn’t know how anyone can sleep with the hurricane raging outside the walls. It sounds like the entire city might topple under the weight of its rampant fury. Not that Hunter’s scared. His blanket is only pulled up over his head because the flashes of lightning burn his eyes. But the thin blanket does not protect his frayed senses from the bone rattling thunder and the constant barrage of torrential rain lashing against the walls and windows.
“I’m awake,” Hunter says, voice muffled into his fabric sanctuary.
The edge of his mattress dips as Tech sits down next to him. “Excellent. Would you like to see the weather radar I have accessed?”
No, Hunter thinks, but he hears the slight tremble in his brother’s voice. With a sigh, he leaves the small comfort of his makeshift barrier and sits up. “Sure, Tech.”
It is the middle of their sleep cycle. Their barracks should be dark, but the incessant lightning keeps the room lit with a flickering, white light. Tech does not wait for further invitation before he scrambles the rest of the way into Hunter’s bunk, putting himself between Hunter and the wall. He props his data pad between them, the screen a mass of twisting colors. “We are here,” Tech says, pointing to a tiny blip amongst the chaos.
“What do the different colors mean?” Hunter asks. He already knows. Reading weather maps is a basic part of their training; however, he also knows that Tech finds comfort in over-explaining even the most rudimentary facts.
Hunter becomes so engrossed in the rambled explanation of weather patterns, that he doesn’t notice the shadow prowling across the room until it speaks almost directly into his ear. “What are you doing?”
Hunter won’t admit if his nerves also leapt bodily in surprise, but Tech startles, the small jerk of motion jarring against Hunter’s side.
Crosshair stands there, arms crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders hiked just a little towards his ears, waiting for an answer.
“Tech’s showing me his weather map,” Hunter says.
Crosshair shifts his weight, sharp eyes cutting away. “I want to see when this karking storm is gonna end,” he mumbles. Like Tech, he does not wait for an invitation to clamber into the bunk. Crosshair puts himself between Tech and the wall. Hunter shifts a little to make more room, Tech tucked snugly in the middle.
Tech starts his explanation all over again, moving the data pad to rest in his lap so that all three of them can see.
“Hey!” an indignant shout comes from across the room. There’s a loud thump, the thudding of feet running across the room. Wrecker looms over Hunter’s crowded bunk, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. “No one told me we were sharing a bunk tonight. I don’t want to be alone either!”
“We aren’t sharing a bunk,” Tech corrects him, “I am showing Hunter and Crosshair the storm’s progress on my radar.”
Wrecker grins. “Then I want to see too!”
He dives into the bunk amidst shouts of protest, wedging himself into the nonexistent space between Crosshair and the wall. Hunter is nearly shoved out of his own bed, clinging to Tech’s arm to keep himself from toppling to the floor.
“We can’t all fit!” Crosshair squawks.
“Yes, we can!” Wrecker says, sounding all too pleased with himself.
“Wrecker,” Crosshair wheezes, “your elbow is digging into my ribs.”
“Oh, sorry,” Wrecker says.
Another pause.
“Wrecker, your elbow is still digging into my ribs.”
“I know, but I’m really comfortable,” Wrecker sighs.
Tech huffs. “At least one of us is.”
Hunter is halfway off the bunk. “We can make this work,” he says, “but not like this.” He drops to the floor and stands up.
“How?” Crosshair asks.
“Sideways,” Hunter says. “Now move.”
“We’re too tall to fit sideways,” Tech points out.
“Do you want to share my bunk or not?” Hunter asks.
At that, his brothers don’t argue, quickly rearranging themselves. Sitting up as they had been, their feet - with the exception of Wrecker - come just to the edge of the thin mattress. They leave space for Hunter between the head of the bed and Tech. Hunter climbs into his allocated spot, and they situate his and Wrecker’s blankets over all four of them.
“Now,” Tech says, taking out his data pad. “Shall I start again?”
They listen to Tech talk about the storm, hardly noticing the stark flashes of lightning or the grumbling of the thunder or the endless onslaught of rain, until one by one they fall asleep.
But it is the last time the four share a bunk.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
"Stop looking at my cards!” Wrecker cries, holding his splay of cards against his chest.
Crosshair scoffs, sitting back. “I would if you’d stop waving them directly in my face.”
“Maybe if you stayed on your side of the table...”
“Can we play just one game without an argument?” Hunter asks, the patience in his voice becoming transparently thin.
A brief moment of silence. Wrecker puts down a card.
“Wrecker, that is an illegal play,” Tech says.
“Is not,” Wrecker says.
Crosshair picks up the card and flicks it back at Wrecker. “Is so. Take it back.”
Wrecker grumbles, but puts the card back in his hand.
The game continues without further incident until Crosshair wins the round.
“How did you know I was bluffing?” Tech asks as Crosshair sweeps his winnings of spare bolts and screws into his pile.
Crosshair grins. “You’ve got a tell.”
“Really? What is it?” Wrecker asks eagerly, squinting at Tech.
Tech rolls his eyes, gathering the cards to shuffle. “I do not have a tell.”
“He does,” Crosshair says to Wrecker, ignoring Tech, “but I’m not going to give it away. It’s my strategy. He counts cards, and I read his tells.”
Hunter groans. “Tech…”
“That is not cheating!” Tech cries, indignant.
“With your enhancement…”
“Now wait a minute–”
“Yeah! Using enhancements is cheating!” Wrecker declares.
Tech huffs. “Then Crosshair shouldn’t be able to read my tells,” he says, then adds, glancing at Wrecker, “not that I have any.”
“How the kark am I supposed to play then? Blindfolded?” Crosshair cries.
Tech shrugs indifferently. “If necessary.”
The table erupts in a tangle of arguments, rational and irrational alike.
It is the last time they play cards before Echo joins the Batch.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
“Here we are,” Hunter says cheerfully, stepping into the clearing and removing his helmet. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the inhalation of pure air, rich with the scents of primitive wilderness. The only electromagnetic signals his senses can pick up are from the Marauder an hour’s march away, and the faint output of Tech’s data pad and their gear.
“If by here you mean the middle of nowhere, then you are correct,” Tech grumbles, shrugging out of his pack and putting it against a tree.
“It was Hunter’s turn to pick our shore leave,” Echo says diplomatically. “So middle of nowhere it is.”
“I like it!” Wrecker booms, scaring away a bird that had been watching them from a nearby branch. “We haven’t been camping in ages!”
Crosshair sighs. “What do you call what we just did on our last mission?”
“Just ‘cause we had to sleep outside doesn’t mean it was camping,” Wrecker says. “Camping means we have a campfire and don’t have to worry about getting our heads shot off by clankers.”
“Now we just have to worry about our heads being bitten off by wild animals,” Crosshair retorts.
Tech immediately cuts in. “There are no predators on this planet capable of such a feat. I made sure of it.”
“See? I feel safer already.” Echo chuckles, pulling off his helmet and grinning at Hunter. “I think I’m gonna like this shore leave. We’ll have some peace and quiet if we can get these two to quit their whining,” he says, nodding at Crosshair and Tech.
Echo receives twin expressions of indignation in response.
However, that night, around the crackling warmth of the campfire, the complaints of the early afternoon are forgotten. The soft sounds of nighttime embrace them, soothing chaotic nature for something tranquil. They watch the stars overhead as things unreachable, winking pinpricks of light against a velvety, black canopy of sky.
Hunter takes first watch, eager to enjoy the serenity they’ve found. Crosshair comes to sit next to him once their brothers have fallen asleep. He bumps his shoulder against the Sargeant’s, and Hunter nudges him back. They don’t speak for long, peaceful minutes, appreciating one another’s quiet company.
“Do you think we could live like this? After the war?” Hunter asks at last, voice hushed.
Crosshair doesn’t answer right away, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knees, watching the flames of the fire dance and spark. “We’re soldiers,” he says, “we don’t know anything but war.”
“We could learn,” Hunter says. “Adapt.”
Crosshair chuckles. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
It is the last time they have shore leave before their mission to Kaller.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
Hunter tries to remember the last words he said to Omega.
The last meaningful words.
The last words she might remember him by.
In case this mission goes wrong.
In case it was the last time he ever saw her.
But he can’t remember.
END
That's a wrap! [[On the eve of the Bad Batch series finale too!! 🥲]] 30 angsty prompts fulfilled in 30 days! I am honored to have gotten to collaborate alongside the endlessly talented @the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts this month!
A master list post is coming soon with links to all 30 stories/chapters completed this month! So keep an eye out for that ☺️
Happy last Bad Batch eve, my lovelies! **sob**
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Rated: G | Words: 446 | Summary: Crosshair struggles as they approach the facility on Tantiss. | Character Focus: Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker
“...with me, Cross, breathe with me,” Hunter’s voice is saying.
“I can’t, I can’t,” Crosshair chokes out, “I can’t go back, Hunter, please…”
Hunter pulls back a moment and takes off his helmet, allowing Crosshair to see his face. “Listen to me,” he says, reaching out and catching Crosshair’s trembling hand. He holds it tight, and it hurts, the way Crosshair’s knuckles grind together in Hunter’s grip. “I’m not going to let them take you. You will not be their prisoner again.”
“I know,” Hunter breathes. He leans forward, presses his forehead against Crosshair’s. “I know. But I will give my life before I let them take any of you again. That I can promise you.”
Crosshair doesn’t like that promise. He doesn’t want that promise. “Don’t say that,” he growls, though the quaking panic rattling his lungs makes it come out like a broken sob. Maybe it is.
But Hunter doesn’t retract the promise as he pulls away, still gripping Crosshair’s hand.
“Sarge,” Wrecker says, standing over them, watching for patrols while Crosshair falls apart. “We gotta…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t need to.
We gotta go. We gotta go into the facility. We gotta find our sister. We gotta…we gotta…gotta…gotta…
Crosshair hates the whining sound he makes as another wave of panic crashes over him. I can’t. I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me do this. Hunter…please…
Crosshair realizes he’s been verbalizing the thoughts of his tortured mind, letting them escape his lips like blood from a seeping wound, when Hunter replies to the spiral of anxiety.
“Our chances are better together, Crosshair,” Hunter says, gentle firmness and calm. “We need you. Omega needs you.” And Hunter continues to exaggerate steady breaths, wordlessly inviting Crosshair to follow the pattern. He tries, pulling quavering breaths and shuddering exhales. Weak, weak, weak, weak…
“Cross,” Wrecker says, “You know we got your back, right?”
Crosshair manages to lift his head, look up into the familiar, expressionless visor of his biggest brother. He can’t trust his voice, so he simply nods, short and tight.
Wrecker tips his head. “You can trust us,” he offers, and then adds, carefully, “and we trust you. You got our backs too, yeah?”
Crosshair’s throat constricts, but this time it isn’t the panic or anxiety that makes it hard to breathe. He forces another steady breath. And another. And another.
They trust him. They’re counting on him. His brothers. His sister.
“Yeah,” he finally answers when he can trust his voice not to fracture on the syllable.
He has to do this.
END
@the-little-moment, @just-here-with-my-thoughts...*squints* I can see the finish line! We're so close!!
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Angstpril 2024 | Day 21 | Prompt 21: Faking a Smile
Rated: G | Words: 238 | Summary: Omega tries. | Character Focus: Omega
She is supposed to be happy.
To be free, to be with her brothers again, to be home. She has Lula and Trooper. Her gunner’s mount room just as she left it before…all of it. Before they lost Tech, before they lost her. The Marauder hasn’t changed in her months away, not that she expected it to. It feels different. Empty and sad and lost.
But she should be happy.
Hunter and Wrecker want her to be happy. Desperately. They want their Omega back. So Omega tries to resurrect her, to stretch the mindset of her old self over the growth and pain and loss and grief and guilt…but it only tears and rips apart, jagged edges, a throbbing reminder that nothing will ever be the same again. She thinks that her brothers know that. That she can’t be the same. That they aren’t the same. That time and experiences have worn them all down to shadows of who they were before.
But she wants to be happy.
So she pulls on a new version of herself. It fits loosely, but she’ll grow into it. Happiness will come again when she has grieved. Guilt will ebb when she makes reparations. Grief will melt into the memories of happier times as they are remembered. Loss will become gains, and pain will be soothed. Because that is one thing Omega hasn’t lost, hasn’t given up, hasn’t forgotten.
Hope.
@the-little-moment @just-here-with-my-thoughts, only 9 days left?? I can't believe April is almost over! I'm excited to finish strong with my writing buddies!!
Rated: G | Words: 816 | Summary: A training exercise doesn't end the way the siblings expected. | Character Focus: Omega, Hunter, Echo
Slight content warning...someone gets a bloody nose.
“Focus up, Omega!” Echo calls from the sidelines when Omega’s gaze drifts again to the sparkling white beach and frothing surf.
Omega turns her head to look at Echo and misses Hunter’s quick sweeping motion that knocks her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling forward across the soft, silty ground. Pushing herself up, Omega spits out a mouthful of grit. “That isn’t fair,” she growls, “Echo distracted me.”
“You distracted yourself,” Hunter chides gently. “Do you think your enemies will wait for you to be focused before they strike?”
“No,” Omega huffs, rolling over into a sitting position. “But why do we have to train today? I’ve never been on a beach before, and Wrecker promised he’d show me how to build sandcastles.”
Hunter smiles at her and holds out a hand. “There’ll be time for fun after training. C’mon, let’s go again.”
Omega takes his hand and Hunter hauls her up to her feet.
“Get in position,” Hunter says.
Halfheartedly, Omega changes her stance. Hunter adjusts her left elbow and right shoulder, and lightly kicks the heel of her boot to make her bring her foot up. “Good. Now bend your knees a little more, keep your center of gravity low.”
“Will my enemies wait for me to get into position?” Omega snarks irritably.
Omega is slightly annoyed when Hunter chooses endless patience instead of reacting. “With enough practice, getting into position will be second nature.”
Once her brother is satisfied with her posture, he stands in front of her, slipping into his own familiar placement. “Start!”
Omega is a flurry of frustrated movement, going through the maneuvers she’s been taught while Hunter easily blocks each strike. With a surge of adrenaline, Omega decides to try something different, wanting to catch Hunter off guard. She goes for an uppercut, which Hunter starts to block; however, she aborts the movement just before making contact and dives for his knees. Hunter isn’t ready for the sudden attack, and is nearly toppled; however, he moves to recover his balance. As he disentangles himself from Omega’s grip, his knee comes up and catches her hard in the nose.
Omega lets out an involuntary yelp of pain, her vision going black for a moment as her body registers the blow. Falling back, she cups her hands over her nose, already leaking blood. She isn’t crying, but tears run down her face and blur the image of Hunter kneeling in front of her.
“Move your hands, let me see,” his voice is saying over the roaring in her ears. She gives a tiny shake of her head, but Hunter gets more insistent. “I need to check if it’s broken, Omega.”
Gingerly, Omega lowers her hands, being careful not to touch them against her clothes. Not that it matters with blood dribbling down her chin and neck.
Hunter inspects the damage, gently prodding the cartilage. “Doesn’t seem to be broken. That’s good. Here, lean forward a bit and pinch here.” He guides one of her hands up to do as he says. “Echo’s getting a cold pack.”
Omega groans, closing her eyes as tears continue to escape without her permission. “I’m not crying,” she tells him, her voice sounding funny with her nose plugged.
“I know you’re not,” Hunter soothes, patting her shoulder.
“That’s one way to get out of training for the day,” Echo’s voice says beside her.
Something soft and chilled presses lightly against the bridge of her nose. Omega hisses in surprise. “I didn’t do this on purpose!” she protests weakly.
“We know, kid,” Hunter says. “And good job. You almost got me there.”
Echo chuckles. “Getting an injury during training is like a right of passage.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, Omega,” Hunter mumbles.
Omega grins behind her hands, peeking one eye open to look at Hunter. “But I almost knocked you down? Really?”
“You should’ve seen his face,” Echo says. “If I had taken a holo, we would’ve gotten a good laugh out of that for years to come. I guess we’ll just have to settle for describing it in great detail to Wrecker and Tech later.”
Hunter frowns over Omega’s shoulder where Echo is situated. Omega giggles, the pain and tears of her injury nearly forgotten.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
Omega adjusts Eva’s left elbow and right shoulder. She nudges Eva’s heel to prompt her to shift forward. “There,” Omega whispers. “Keep your knees bent. Good.”
“This will help us to fight?” Eva whispers.
Omega can’t train these children as her brothers trained her. She can’t teach them to throw a punch, or hold a blaster, or how to avoid detection. However, she can give them a foundation, as small as it might be. She can teach them to slip into position until it’s second nature, until her brothers find them and rescue them.
Smiling grimly, Omega puts a reassuring hand on little Eva’s shoulder. “It’s a start.”
END
@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 😱 This is the halfway mark??? YAY! Go team!! 15 more angsty prompts to go 😇
(Make sure to check out all of our stories this month for ultimate heartbreak!)
A third of the month of angst is already done! Special thanks to those who have been reading along with @kybercrystals94, @just-here-with-my-thoughts, and me for the past ten days. You all get a gold star ⭐. (And a little 😘, hehe.)
Without further ado, here are all ten stories we've written so far, for your angsty pleasure. We hope you'll stick around for the next twenty!
Day 1: Homesick by the-little-moment
Day 2: Frozen by just-here-with-my-thoughts
Day 3: Broken-Hearted by kybercrystals94
Day 4: Longing by the-little-moment
Day 5: Rise from the Ashes by just-here-with-my-thoughts
Day 6: This Isn't Going to Work by kybercrystals94
