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heyclickadee · 3 months

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Screw it, I need to get this out of my system. A thought about the guy in the Clone X armor on Pabu:

So…okay. I’ve seen people pointing out that there are resemblances between Tech and the mysterious clone x guy we see standing in front of the Archium in the trailer. And, honestly, they’re not really wrong.

There are some very, well, Tech-like shapes to this guy’s outfit (the dotted lines are ones I wasn’t so sure about):

They’re not an exact match, because some of the line proportions of the similarities I pointed out are different, but the similarities are there. There’s even a similar effect—not shape, but effect—to the lighter green outline around the eyes calling attention to the area as Tech’s goggles had—the difference being that we can’t see this guys eyes behind the glass.

And, yes, this mystery man does have a really similar build. And shoulders. And general proportions. And there’s that freaking shin pouch. They gave him a shin pouch!

And then, of course, the basic silhouette of the Clone X helmet is very similar (not exactly the same, but similar) to Tech’s helmet, minus the visor and the ear cuffs:

Now, there are major differences as well. The Clone X armor is much more streamlined and less bulky than Tech’s; the pauldrons have similar proportions but a much more rounded shape; the breastplate fits a bit tighter and is also significantly shorter; the overall shape and muzzle of the helmet is very similar, but the Clone X helmet muzzle is about half the length because the covering for the eye-ridge area juts out that much farther, and it has more of a fluid “backswept” effect overall; he’s only got a few pouches, two, maybe three if the arm-band works as a pouch.

But the overall effect of this particular Ckone X character is that he reads as a somewhat Tech-shaped individual. And I have a few thoughts on this.

First, I do think this might be on purpose. Yes, the base armor, minus the shoulder and arm straps and the pouches, is basically identical to the Clone X armor we see in season two. I think it’s more or less standard issue to clone assassins and, apart from a couple little tweaks (again, the straps and the pouches), is not at all unique in that regard. That said, if the production team knew what the story was doing with Tech in advance—and I think they did, I don’t think this show was written from beginning to end at the start, because that doesn’t happen, but I suspect they had the major story beats outlined before moving forward—it’s possible that the design team used Tech’s armor as the template from which to derive the clone X armor for season two. I’m not saying that happened, but I am saying it’s possible.

Second, I’m not saying this is Tech. I’m not sure if it is. I’m leaning that direction right now, but I might lean otherwise in an hour or two. We’ll see. What I am one-hundred percent sure of, however, is that these shots of this guy are Grade A Tech speculation bait—and intended that way. I think we’re meant to speculate about whether this is Tech or not. The TBB team gave us absolutely no indication that Tech is dead for real, nothing final, just the same shot of Tech’s ambiguous fate with a Sad Filter, and then they offered up this very mysterious and Tech-shaped person standing in front of an emotionally poignant location. Whoever he actually is, even if he’s just some random guy, Mystery Clone X guy is here in the trailer to drive Tech discussion during the lead up to season premiere.

Third, if this is Tech, if that’s him, then I think the trailer is being incredibly misleading about what he’s doing there. It looks like this Clone X is leading a squad of stormtroopers in an invasion of Pabu. I’m not sure that’s what’s happening—the stormtroopers are probably there to wreck Pabu, but I’m not sure this Clone X is leading them or even on their side. I don’t think we’re getting an imperial or brainwashed Tech scenario, especially not with how late in the season this shot is probably happening. I think it’s a lot more likely that this outfit originally belonged to the Clone X guy we see speaking in the trailer, Tech jumped him, used the guy’s armor to disguise himself, added some pouched because of course he did, and then inserted himself into a situation to see what he could do to help out. And I don’t think they found Pabu because of Tech, either—the empire has plenty of other ways of doing that.

Fourth, if—if!—we do get a brainwashed Tech, I think it’s going to be short-lived and, hopefully, very different from Crosshair’s situation. I almost wonder if it’s going to turn out to be a bit of a schlocky b-movie mind control helmet situation (I notice that the Clone X from season two only took the face of his helmet off). Like the clone x helmets interface with the inhibitor chips somehow, and it doesn’t work with Tech, because he doesn’t have one, but he plays along so he can get something else done and have a chance to escape. Or something. I’m thinking out loud. Anyway, whatever happens, even if we get an imperial/brainwashed Tech scenario, I think he’s going to be fine and himself well before the end of the series.

Fifth, brainwashed Tech is probably my least favorite of the Tech-lives options. I don’t like it. But this show has a habit of getting me on board with plot choices I did not want, so. If they go that route, I’ll see how they do it, and evaluate from there. I still don’t want it right now, though.

Sixth, there are lots of reasons for it not to be Tech at all,

#the bad batch #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #clone x speculation #short version #he’s in the trailer to generate discussion on who he could be and whether or not he’s Tech

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dinbeskarbaby · 9 months

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I used to float, now I just fall down

I used to know but I'm not sure now

What I was made for

What was I made for?

Takin' a drive, I was an ideal

Looked so alive, turns out I'm not real

Just something you paid for

What was I made for?

'Cause I, I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday, I might

Someday, I might

When did it end? All the enjoyment

I'm sad again, don't tell my brothers

It's not what they're made for

What was I made for?

'Cause I, 'cause I

I don't know how to feel

But I wanna try

I don't know how to feel

But someday I might

Someday I might

Think I forgot how to be happy

Something I'm not, but something I can be

Something I wait for

Something I'm made for

#sorry #billie wrote this song for him #i don't discuss about it its a fact #star wars #the bad batch #crosshair #ct-9904 #clone force 99 #clone wars #tbb crosshair #clone #bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #star wars the bad batch #crosshair tbb

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sweaters-and-vertigo · 21 days

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so i’ve seen a lot of people talk about the symbolism of omega leaving lula behind but i haven’t seen anyone talk about what tech’s goggles mean.

in the case that tech is CX-2 (which i think we’re all pretty sold on now), i think that leaving his goggles behind means the same thing as leaving lula behind. i think that both omega and tech are past their own “point of no return” and they’re in it together. because the goggles and lula are left behind in the same place while tech brings omega back to tantiss.

i know lot of fans want tech to “bounce back” but considering the likely brain damage from his fall along with the programming in his head, i don’t think we’re going to get him back. speaking from a realistic psychological standpoint, people don’t go through that much psychological trauma and come out the other end the same way. every person has a “point of no return” and i think tech might be past his.

i guess it just depends on how you want the human mind to be represented. personally, i would prefer a realistic representation. i’ve been through a lot of bad stuff and i changed a lot because of it. i nearly went past my own “point of no return” but i didn’t. my father did go past his. my father’s “point of no return” was when he unapologetically put my life in danger repeatedly for two days. do you see any similarities? and for a long time, we all held out hope he would get better but he never did.

if the writers are going to put a character through unimaginable horrors like what tech probably experienced, the true psychological effects should be there. anything else is just fan service at best but unfair at worst. whatever happens with tech/CX-2, i just hope they do it right.

an example of this being done correctly: powder/jinx from arcane. she had a mental illness, went through extreme trauma, then some more trauma, and then went past her “point of no return” at the end of season one. i love her and i relate to her character so so much. because she’s been through a lot of horrible things just like i have except when she reached her “point of no return” she welcomed it with open arms. it was heartbreaking and beautiful. i wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

EDIT: to be fair to the tbb writers, they did an incredible job representing crosshair’s trauma. i have shaky hands too, which people never get tired of telling me or asking about it. so i do have faith in the writers. ALSO SIDENOTE, i think that crosshair met his own “point of no return” that he didn’t go past. i think that it was when his commanding officer allowed mayday to die and crosshair killed the man. if he had simply continued following orders, we would have lost him for good but he came back to us. everyone has a different event or action that they can’t come back from. sometimes it’s a choice they make or sometimes it’s a trauma they experience but it is a real thing and it should be represented accurately.

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verndusk · 1 year

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re-drawing a Bad Batch scene a day until season 3 comes out (or i forget): day 19

#echo again cause i love him #my art #the bad batch #tbb #tbb everyday #star wars #tbb echo #bad batch #his helmet is the sexiest and i will not take criticism nor discussion about my opinion #i want to bite him #also this one WAS admittedly a little late cause i was watching rebels;; oops

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azertyrobaz · 1 year

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It’s 2012 all over again!

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adh-d2 · 13 days

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JFC They gave Echo a swelling musical score and a dramatic entrance then sent him off on his own I am TERRIFIED for him

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nerfpuncher · 21 days

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We are at work, digging out dirt ditches. We of course started to talk about what Inappropriate Trucker Hats we were gunna get for this year's farming season. We always get a new one each season.

So naturally we decided to play a game of:

What hat would the bad batchers wear?

Cast your votes! Here are submissions from myself, my husband, and our goodbuddy/co worker tyty. All three of us watch the show (Though none as obsessively as me)

So let's start out with

#the bad batch #star wars #sorry not sorry #philosophical farm discussions #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #some of these are absolute gold #im proud of my boys yall

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theworstcreature · 27 days

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MY DAD JUST REFERED TO TECH BAD BATCH AS BROWN EYES???????? FATHER WHAT???????????????????

#we haven’t watched todays episode but we discussed why I think techs still alive #my theories are TRUE I JUST KNOW IT #Star Wars #the bad batch #tbb #Star Wars the bad batch #bad batch #Star Wars bad batch #tech bad batch #tech tbb #tech Star Wars #tech #Star Wars tech

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staycalmandhugaclone · 11 months

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Breaking Point

We've reached the point where I would definitively recommend reading the entirety of Doc's Misadventures before continuing beginning, of course with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Vague, cryptic warnings, moral dilemma over assassination, mild tension

WC: 4,385

“Squeeze it.”

“I am.”

“As hard as you can.”

“I am.” I didn’t try to hide the impatience from my voice nor the glare from my eyes as I stared down the medic before me, annoyance flaring at the way his lips twitched with disappointment. My arm trembled beneath my efforts, fingers clenched around the sensor measuring my grip strength, but I still barely managed half what my other hand could do.

“Let’s increase reps for your mobility exercises. The more you use that arm, the faster the”

“I know.” I stated flatly. The cybernetic implant reconnecting the severed nerves needed to be trained, which involved the limb floundering weakly for those first few days to relearn how to move, all the while struggling with the odd near-numbness robbing sensation from the back of my hand and stretching up toward my elbow.

I didn’t need them to tell me that, while it may get better, it was unlikely at this stage for numbness to fully recover. I didn’t need them to tell me that it was normal to feel frustration during the healing process, to try to celebrate each bit of progress made. I didn’t need them teaching me motions I’d taught countless others before fleeing my home world with Wolffe and General Plo. Despite my reminding them that I happened to not only share their profession, but that I specialized in rehabilitation, still they felt the need to walk me through every tedious step.

“Any change with your knee?” He asked after visibly preventing himself from rolling his eyes.

“Still stiff. Still aches. No signs of infection.” I answered dryly. I’d been through this every day for nearly two weeks, almost never seeing the same medic twice and growing more restless and impatient with each one. A short sigh escaped him before managing to restrain himself.

“Alright, you can get out of here.” He yielded, setting his datapad down, and I didn’t wait for him to change his mind before pushing myself to my feet, weight still primarily supported by my uninjured leg, and started quickly toward the door, barely pausing even as he called after me. “Same time tomorrow – no skipping out!” I brought my left hand up to give a mockery of a salute without bothering to look at him as I left.

“I hear you’ve been causing trouble with your medics.” The door had barely closed when General Plo appeared around the far corner of the hall, and my face instantly brightened.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten about me.” I teased, quickening my step.

“Never, little one.” The innate fondness in his soothing voice was a balm to even the bitter aftertaste of disappointment from my daily check-in, and I eagerly greeted him with a firm embrace, smile growing at the way his torso shook with that nearly silent laughter.

“You’ve been through quite the ordeal since leaving us.” He murmured, holding me for just a moment longer before, with a deep breath, stepping back, arms automatically returning to rest against his stomach, hands tucking in the long sleeves of his robes.

“It’s… been an adventure,” I admitted with a weary chuckle, “but worth every second.” The grin that pulled at my lips was tired and worn but free of even a whisper of hesitation. “Did you come here to visit or was this just a happy accident?”

“I thought I might accompany you for a time.” He turned to begin a leisurely pace through the too-sterile corridor. “I’ve received word that your squad is being sent to Devaron.” My stride faltered a moment as I moved to follow him, heart sinking at the very thought of them going on a mission without me…

“So quick to worry.” He hummed, and I could hear the smirk in his words. “My understanding is that this isn’t to be a typical mission.” He explained before I could respond. “It has been approved as a medical leave. While I am not directly involved, so know little more about it, I believe it would be a safe assumption that you are to be included.” My relief was palpable, and I didn’t need to see his eyes to feel the knowing look he shot me as I fell in step beside him.

“You’ve grown quite close to them.” He remarked.

“Being thrown from one near-death to another will do that do a person.” I retorted, earning a quiet chuckle. “We don’t have a fancy space wizard to save us if things go wrong, but… those men are amazing, Plo… Reckless… and cocky, but amazing.”

“That explains how you’ve fit in so well with them.” He teased, and I couldn’t still my laughter despite the heatless glare I sent him.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, General.”

“Of course, med’ika.” He relented with mock chagrin. Just as we neared the barracks door, he paused. The way he called my name sent a chill down my spine, and I found myself holding my breath as he spoke.

“You must take care on Devaron.” The way he said it, the deep worry tinting every word sent my heart racing. “I sense a great heartbreak… and I fear for you, little one.” For a short eternity, I couldn’t respond, frozen in the sudden terror of his cryptic warning. He let out a deep breath, sympathy and sorrow and affection coiling into that simple gesture.

The door opened before us. Hunter took a mere handful of steps into the hall before snapping into a salute.

“General.” He greeted, and Plo’s entire stature seemed to change without moving at all, instantly losing the overture of dread in favor of the gentleness I treasured him for.

“At ease, Sergeant. I was simply escorting a dear friend back to you.” When he turned to face me once more, I tried to offer him a smile in farewell, but I couldn’t shake the weight of his warning from my shoulders.

“May the force be with you.” I’d heard him speak those words countless times, but at that moment it felt like he was willing them into me, almost pleading for the ancient prayer to grant me some bit of luck or protection, and I couldn’t bring myself to even offer him the same in kind as he turned to walk away.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asked softly, attention shifting from me to the robed form retreating into the maze of halls.

“Um,” The sound caught in my throat as I finally turned to face him. “Just… wants us to be careful.” A tense quiet lingered for a few long seconds before he drew a sharp breath, arms crossing his chest as he looked at me with a disapproval that would have been concerning were it not for the humor lighting those eyes.

“You weren’t supposed to finish for another ten minutes.” He chided. “I was just coming to meet you. Something I should know?” Forcing my gaze to the man beside me, I let myself be infected by the simple glee in seeing the hint of a smirk on those plush lips.

“Yeah: I’m a medic.” I stated bluntly. “I can manage my own physical therapy.” He let out a sigh, vying for a reproachful glare but unable to rid that fond warmth from his eyes. Grinning, I walked the few steps past him into our room.

“You’re back early!” Wrecker greeted happily from where he lounged in a chair.

“Think they got tired of me correcting them.” I replied with a grin.

“That is unfortunate; their specialization in particular deeply relies on continuously furthering their knowledge.” Tech commented, not bothering to glance up from the datapad in his hand as he sat hunched over on his bunk.

“Were you correcting them or berating them?” I purposefully turned away from Echo’s skeptical gaze but couldn’t refrain from smiling at his chuckle.

Our barracks was already packed: wrappers from a half-dozen ration bars lay scattered amongst wrinkled sheets atop Wrecker’s bed, a collection of wires and circuits covered nearly every inch of the center table, and several of the storage crates seemed knocked askew from some recent bout of roughhousing, but each of their footlockers lay stacked beside the door. Stepping over a thick braid of cords crossing the center of the room, I tread to the thinly padded couch and sat heavily against the corner, instinctively stretching my leg out over the cushion beside me to straighten the stiff joint.

Crosshair’s absence was nothing new. It took only a glance to confirm the heavy case he kept his rifle in was missing, and I safely assumed he’d gone to the range for the meticulous pre-mission ritual of fine-tuning the deadly weapon.

“When do we leave?” I asked instead, though even that was relatively easy to guess, and I wasn’t surprised at Hunter’s answer.

“First thing tomorrow.”

There was a tenseness in the recycled air of the Marauder. Everyone seemed to speak just a breath softer, footsteps falling almost silently about the metalloid floors, and Crosshair seemed nowhere to be found. By the end of the second day, I found Hunter alone in the cockpit and slipped quietly into the chair beside him.

“You going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked, a subtle plea in the almost murmured words. He didn’t look at me for a long moment, those gold-streaked eyes staring blindly at the dance of blue and black beyond the viewport. His jaw tensed, teeth grinding slightly before letting out a slow breath.

“Officially, we’re en route to Devaron for your med leave… Unofficially, we’re being tasked to protect a visiting senator.” His lips parted, but he paused, stalling for even a few seconds more before turning to me. “We’re really going there… because intel discovered a Separatist agent – some new face trying to start a coup… They want Cross to take him out.”

I didn’t know how to react. Crosshair was a sniper, so such a task seemed obviously suited for him… but… this wasn’t a battle. There would be no driving threat of ‘us or them’ as both sides fought for their lives… This was an assassination. And, from the unease that had plagued the others since the moment we left, it was painfully clear that Crosshair was just as conflicted about the distinction.

“That’s why I haven’t seen him lately?” It was nearly rhetorical, but Hunter nodded regardless.

“He… gets quiet… withdrawn before… and after.” He barely breathed the words, and I could hear the guilt in them, the regret; the frustrating knowledge that this wasn’t the first time and wasn’t likely to be the last.

“Where is he?” I asked in that same fleeting whisper. His brows pulled together, just forming the beginning of a crease as he glared at some distant point past my hip. “Hunter… where is he?” I pressed, leaning toward him enough to rest my hand atop his forearm.

“Kitchen.” He finally answered, resigned. My fingers squeezed the taut muscles gently in gratitude before I pushed myself to my feet. It didn’t matter how I felt about it… Crosshair was given no choice in this, and my heart twisted at the turmoil it clearly brought him.

As Hunter had said, the lithe man was seated at the small table, rag in hand as he finished wiping the remnants of cleaner from the sleek barrel of his rifle. He didn’t look at me as I slid onto the seat nearest him, letting my own gaze wander aimlessly over the immaculate weapon. Without a word, I set my hand lightly upon the worn surface, palm raised, fingers slightly flared in quiet invitation. Still, he feigned ignorance for just a moment longer before reluctantly setting the rag down.

“Hunter told you?” His voice was carefully even, robbed of even the impatience normally reserved for interrupting such a ritual. Still, I kept my gaze trained away from him as I nodded. He hesitated just a moment longer before slowly letting himself reach for me, fingers threading through mine.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” I didn’t look at him as I said it, almost expecting his coming silence. Hand tightening slightly around his, I couldn’t keep the subtle note of fear from my voice, Plo’s warning ringing with frightening clarity through my mind. “I don’t want you to do this alone... How am I supposed to keep you safe if I’m not with you?”

Still, he didn’t answer. I didn’t press again, savoring at least this brief moment of comfort while it lasted. Too soon, however, he pulled away from that touch, hand lingering near me for just a breath longer before pushing himself to his feet to return his rifle back into its case, and, in that same silence, made his way out of the room.

The undertone of that dreadful waiting, the unspoken worry and held breath seemed only to worsen in the final day before arriving at the stunning jade orb. Great peridot clouds swirled about its atmosphere above stretches of emerald seas. Unlike so many of the more populated worlds, the continents appeared remarkably unblemished by the hands of sentient creation; no sweeping metropolises tarnished the dance of greens and yellows of the unending rainforests below; no constellations of city lights or swarm of ships orbited the planet like gnats granting it an air of untouched wilds that sent a slight thrill through me as we began our descent.

Tech mentioned the proximity of where we’d be landing to the capitol city, but I could see nothing through the faint hues of gold resting about the web of massive roots just visible through a dense canopy of fluttering leaves. I was surprised to watch the lake gradually lighten to a gorgeous blue the nearer we got and found myself eager to explore what other secrets lay hidden within the delicate haze of eternal mist blanketing the planet’s surface.

“Alright, let’s set up a perimeter first, then we can relax.” Hunter reminded, gaze pointedly turning to Wrecker, but he couldn’t fully hide the smirk at his brother’s visible excitement as those mismatched eyes studied the crystalline surface of water before us. Even through the skintight blacks and heavy armor I could feel the thick humidity in the air as the ramp lowered, the gentle warmth in that first step toward the stunning forests.

The trees weren’t as tall as I expected, trunks barely the width of my shoulders even as they branched out into a massive umbrella of leaves overhead that sang as they danced in the soft breeze. Pristine ferns coveted the rich soil below, frons curling out in subtle pleas for what fleeting fingers of sunshine adorned them in a dappled light that painted the very air it passed through. Even the boulders stretching between seas of lush foliage nearly blended into the greenery beneath interplays of moss and lichen that garnished their surface.

Without needing to be told, Crosshair and Tech tracked north from the lake while Hunter and Echo headed south, leaving Wrecker with me to guard the ship. Despite his clear eagerness to indulge, Wrecker was surprisingly fastidious in his duty, maintaining a careful quiet as we waited, weapons held loosely in our grasp, for the others to return. At least, he was for a time.

“I hate it when they do this.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke, the almost grumbled words stark against the gentle hum of insects flitting about us as he seamlessly continued scanning the surrounding trees.

“Do what?” I asked, confused by the sudden statement.

“This. Sendin’ us places pretendin’ it’s for one thing, then sendin’ Cross off on his own like we don’ know what’s really happening…” His shoulders fell, head dropping slightly toward his chest. “Makin’ him…” He didn’t finish the thought, but I watched the tension coil through his powerful form, and my chest tightened from the mere sight of it. “I don’ like us not stayin’ together.”

I wished so desperately for some idea on what I might say to ease his worry, but there was no comfort to be found for this. Holstering one of my pistols, I crossed the few meters between us and let my hand reach out to settle gently atop his forearm.

“I don’t like it either.” I murmured softly.

Hunter and Echo were the first to return, their dark armor granting them the illusion of shadows until a speck of sunlight hit a strip of red or gleamed against the thin transparasteel of their visors.

“Clear.” Hunter called as they approached, mimicked barely a beat later by Tech as he and Crosshair appeared along the opposite bank, and some façade of calm settled over the small clearing.

The golden sun burned brightly overhead as we finished the unspoken routine of setting camp: the beginnings of a fire crackled at the center of a ring of storage crates placed about it in some semblance of chairs, proximity sensors had been placed strategically within several nearby trees, and already Wrecker was beginning to free himself of the heavy plastoid armor, eyes turned happily toward a towering boulder creating an small overhang along the northern bank.

“Wrecker, be sure to check for” Before Tech could finish the warning, his brother wrenched the top half of his blacks off mid-run as he raced up to the ledge, nearly tripping in his attempt to slip out of the bottoms as well before throwing himself into the water. Echo’s slow sigh was rich with silent laughter at the loud whoop that preceded a massive splash. “Rocks.” Tech finished dryly, and I shot him a wide grin, already walking forward to retrieve the abandoned garments.

As I bent down to grab his shirt, a flash of crimson caught my attention amongst the shadows shifting over the wealth of brush stretching between distant tree trunks. Hunter stood with his back toward me maybe a dozen meters away with Crosshair. The sniper was looking pointedly into the woods, brows lightly furrowed, arms locked over his chest. I couldn’t hear even the hum of voices, but noted how Crosshair’s expression grew harsh, could feel the way he ground his teeth even as he gave a subtle nod. Hunter’s shoulder’s suddenly relaxed, hand reaching out to settle over his brother’s arm for only a moment before shifting to clasp the back of his neck as he pulled the taller man toward him in a firm embrace.

In my distraction, I didn’t hear the plinks of water droplets nor the telltale crunch of gritty soil churning underfoot. When those powerful arms suddenly hoisted me into the air, I couldn’t begin to silence the loud gasp from catching in my throat, body flailing as I turned to see the devious grin stretching across Wrecker’s scarred face.

“Last I heard, we were here for you to get better,” he began, already taking tantalizingly slow stops toward that overhand.

“No-no-no-no, Wrecker!” I stammered, already squirming violently in a futile attempt to escape him.

“That means yuh gotta do your physical therapy.”

“Wrecker! Let me down!” I squealed, thrashing even as laughter tore from lips I couldn’t begin to force free of that beaming smile.

“Jus’ so happens, swimmin’s a great way to work out,” He continued as though I’d said nothing at all, “nice an’ gentle an’ such.” Abandoning the vain effort to loosen his hold, I instead locked my arms around his neck, intent on preventing him from throwing me as useless pleas continued to shriek amidst giggles that betrayed my feigned reluctance. In those final few feet, however, he shot forward in a sprint, and I could only scream in mixed delight and fear as he launched us both over the ledge.

In that brief moment of stillness, hidden beneath water shimmering with dancing flickers of light catching atop peaks of what tiny waves formed in our wake, breath held only in that last second, I found myself marveling at the quiet. For just those precious, fleeting seconds, I felt only the gentle touch of tepid water enveloping me, hiding me away – hiding us away as Wrecker’s arms tightened, locking me against the blistering heat of his bare chest.

In a rush, the world crashed back around us as we breached the surface, overwhelmed with the buzz of fleeing insects and lap of water striking stone, and I felt my chest jerk in a violent inhale before turning what mockery of a glare I could manage toward the man holding me.

“Wrecker!” I scolded, but any façade of anger was lost in the glee shining through my voice, and the brilliant smile stretching across his face freed me of even the memory of fear.

“Ah, I’m jus’ tryin’ to help.” He retorted, pretending to pout as he easily carried me back to shore.

“‘Help.’ Right…” His expression broke beneath a stifled chuckle, and I instantly retaliated by launching a small splash at him, which only fueled his mirth.

“Wrecker is correct; swimming is a particularly effective means of physical therapy.” Tech chimed as his brother carefully lowered me to stand before them on the damp soil. Hunter and Crosshair stood just past the folded wing of the Marauder and I felt that rush of warmth flood my chest at the easy smile on the Sergeant’s face. Even Cross’s expression was softened by the threat of a smirk.

“How about you let him throw you in next?” I glowered, looking up at Tech with an impassive glare.

“I am not the one in need of reestablishing a neural connection with my arm.” He shot back, and I had to fight to ignore the wordless signal Echo sent the towering man behind me.

“No, but you are in need to reestablishing a connection with nature.” I replied resolutely. Frowning, he glanced away from his datapad just in time for the arc trooper to snatch it from his grasp. Before the sharp retort could escape him, Wrecker charged forward to grab him. I was shaking in a fit of giggles well before the splash rang through the clearing, each shouted threat and demand only rekindling my glee until I was folded over, arms locked around my stomach. The quiet huffs of broken breath as Echo tried to force some silence over himself was a delight in itself, and when I heard the rich sound of Hunter’s laughter, my heart soared.

Wrecker hadn’t jumped in with him like he’d done with me; he’d simply stood over the ledge and flung his brother into the water. Face flushed, Tech quickly dragged himself to shore, lips twisted into a scowl, but, when I reached a hand out to help haul him to his feet, beaming at him with a joy that we were so rarely allotted in the nightmare of this war, some of his ire faded, hesitantly slipping his fingers around mine.

“I fear I fail to see much benefit in your idea of ‘reestablishing a connection with nature.’” He muttered, pulling at his goggles to let the water that managed to pool within drip down his cheeks.

“Really? No benefits at all?” I pressed, nudging my shoulder against his. I vaguely noted Hunter leaning over to whisper something to Crosshair, but the way the sniper’s shoulders shook left me smiling even wider. Tech’s cheeks flushed anew, gaze quickly fleeing mine.

“Maybe… a few.” He relented. “However, standing in wet armor is not among them.” His fingers tightened subtly around mine before releasing me as he tread toward the fire, already pulling at his gloves and vambraces.

“I see you two giggling over there! Are you coming willingly, or is this about to become a high stakes game of chase?” I called to the two still standing several meters back. Crosshair merely cocked his brow, arms looping over his chest, and the beginnings of some dismissive excuse settled on Hunter’s lips for just a moment before he paused, turning back to his brother with a final comment that briefly left the sniper stunned before walking towards us.

“Alright! Now it’s a vacation!” Wrecker boomed, trotting backwards into the lake for a few strides before merely letting himself tip over onto the water’s gleaming surface, and I couldn’t help but marvel at him; at the display of raw power no longer ruined by starvation. The stunning bronze of skin dappled with scars stretched easily over thick muscles now softened by a protective layer of fat. He looked happy; healthy… and, Maker, it was a task to tear my gaze from the way his briefs hugged his every curve.

When I turned back toward the others, however, Tech was already pulling his top over his head, seemingly oblivious to the heat revealing his deceptively toned form sent through me, and I found myself grateful that Hunter was distracted with stacking his own armor atop one of the crates. When I glanced back to find Echo walking up to join Crosshair, however, the knowing look the sniper sent me left my cheeks aflame, and I found myself biting my lips.

Forcing the thoughts from my mind, I finally began shedding my own armor, laying the pieces out to dry before reaching for the hem of my shirt.

“Oh.” The small sound of surprise threatened to draw another chuckle from me as I looked up to find Tech failing to keep himself from staring.

“What? You guys get to go flouncing about in your skivvies to swim, but I don’t?” I teased, spreading the soaked garment out over a crate before reaching for my pants.

“N… uh, of course.” He quickly stammered, pointedly turning his attention back to his own attire. The GAR issued undergarments matched their briefs, and my breastband offered little chance of mishaps, but, while they’d each found their way to my care in various stages of undress, this was the first time, save Echo, they’d seem me in such a state, and I couldn’t deny the thrill of feeling their eyes on me, of catching them watching me as I made my way back into the lake.

“I take back what I said,” Wrecker murmured when he finally noticed my approach, “Now it’s a vacation.” And I shot him a wide grin before diving underwater.

Next Chapter

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theangstyboiblog · 1 year

Text

The Spy and Her Hunter | Part 2

Hunter x Fem!Reader

Description: After six months apart from a certain bad batcher, he comes to your rescue when your mission to steal data from the Empire goes wrong. Unfortunately you’re not exactly happy to see him.

#Lovers to Enemies

Warnings: 18+, Future smut, Language, Angst!

Table of Contents: Part One

You’re crawling across the floor like an infant before he can stop you, your dazed gaze scanning for the black ball of metal. You ignore Hunter as he calls your name.

“Y/N...”

“I’m trying to focus here,” you growl out as you place one hand in front of the other. It’s harder than it sounds.

Finally, your fingers meet metal and you shove a fallen slab of plaster out of the way. The droid unit is busted, but you don’t need it. Biting your tongue, you blink and shake the blurriness from your vision before prying off the dented door to the drug compartment. You fish through the rotation cuff and pull out a dust covered injector.

You notice that Hunter is next to you for the first time when his hand comes into your view, reaching out for the syringe. “That’s not sterile anymore,” he tells you, but like a child you push at his hands, turn away, pull down the collar of your shirt and lift the syringe up, needle pointed at your throat. “For kriffs sake, Y/N, don’t—”

Hunter’s hand grabs your wrist, but he’s too late as you stab yourself with the needle. You wince, listen for the hiss of the injection and immediately drop your hand with a sigh. Your body slumps to the side as your energy seems to seep into the floor beneath you. The syringe clatters on the floor as you close your eyes and literally feel the weight of sobriety hit you upside the head.

Footsteps sound behind you, each one a loud drumbeat reverberating through your skull. “What is taking so long?” a voice calls.

“She just injected herself with something from the droid, Tech. I know as much as you do,” Hunter’s voice answers.

Gritting your teeth, you breathe in through your nose, push your hands against the floor and rise up on legs that don’t entirely listen to you. “It was an ileothol suppressant,” you say over your shoulder as you step towards one of the fallen troopers. You stumble and ignore the way Hunter’s hands seem to follow after you, ready to play catch at a moment’s notice.

“Ileothol was used by separatist black site interrogation units in the war,” Tech rambles in that way of his and you sigh. “It was banned halfway through the war due to fatalities, however.”

Bending down, you pick up a blaster and a loose silver orb. You look both weapons over, before stashing the detonator on your belt. Then you glance back at the clones watching you. “Good to see you too, Tech,” you say before turning on your heel and heading for the hole in the wall. “Is it just the two of you?” you question as you round the corner.

You glance both directions, and find that no one is in the corridor. Which way was it? You narrow your eyes as you try to remember the building layout. Right? Left?

“The others are waiting along the exfiltration route,” Tech says. “More troopers are being pulled in from the city. We have to leave.”

You turn left. You take two steps before Hunter is calling after you. “Y/N, the way out is that way,”

You pivot, finding them both holding a hand out to the hall behind them, but you keep walking backwards, “And my data is this way,” you call back. You don’t have to see either of their faces to know what they’re thinking. You can see the annoyance in the way Hunter’s helmet tilts. “I can get myself out from here,” you say, turning your back on them. “Tell the others I said thanks for the jailbreak.” Hefting the rifle in your hands, you make your way around another corner at the end of the hall and leave them both behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In your defense, you did make it to the databanks on your own. The roving patrols weren’t something you’d really planned on though. But you can deal with that.

“TK-1238, report your position, over…” static cuts over the comm as the last trooper in front of you crashes to the ground, a red-hot hole burning through the back of his armor. Lowering your weapon you step around him, gaze settling on the console at the center of the room. Rubbing the back of your neck, you set your blaster on the console and begin typing, eyes flitting across the screens as you work double time. You don’t have long. Someone is going to come looking for those guards.

Bending down, you slip your finger along the cuff of your boot, fingernails digging into the ripped fabric before you pull out the data disc. You insert it into the console and get to work. It’s silent, save for the hum of the server fans and the clack of your nails against the keyboard.

You’re just putting in the commands to begin the data transfer, when a rush of footsteps echoes through the room. Eyes still locked on the screen, your hand grabs your blaster. You lift your arm and point it towards the door, just as it slides open. You don’t look. You don’t check your target. Your finger pulls the trigger. A flash of red light and a pang of sound leaves the gun in your hand, and hits the side of the door as a shadow leaps out of the corner of your eye.

“Y/N, it’s me!”

Your free hand stops keying in the final sequence for a second as you turn your head. Hunter stands barely out of sight behind the doorframe. You shake your head and turn back to the computer.

“I told you I can handle this,” you tell him as he enters the room. The door shuts behind him. “You should have left already.” He moves across the room until he’s standing opposite you.

“And I told Rex I’d get you out of here. I’m not leaving you.” He reaches up and pulls off his helmet. You keep your eyes focused on the screen in front of you.

You let out a snort as his words hit. “You could just say you wanted to see me.” A long time ago, that would have been a sweet, flirty joke. Now the silence that follows it nearly drowns you. No one is laughing. No one is speaking.

Looking down, you hit one last button, before holding out your hand as the data disc ejects. For the first time in half a year, you pay him a glance, stomach twisting at the sight of his face, your gaze naturally falling on the slope of his lips. Stop it, you tell yourself as you look away.

Pointing your gun at the computer console, you give a quick command. “Move.”

He steps to the side and you let off three shots, sparks flying as you cover your face with your free hand. The screen flickers before going completely dark and you reach up, slipping the data disc inside a secret pocket in your jacket.

“And done,” you murmur as you look up at him. He’s studying you in that way of his. Little micromovements in his facial muscles give it all away. It’s like he can see every single thing you’ve done and thought since that last time you saw one another. “What?” you say with a frown, flinching as his hand rises up, thumb brushing the side of your face.

“That’s new,” he says, jutting his chin to the thin scar that cuts along your jaw. Shrugging your shoulders, you push his hand off and turn away.

“Had a run in with a rodian. You should’ve been there,” you say, wincing at just how bitter your words sound, at how you know you��re looking for a fight, for an argument. Because you’ve spent the last half of a year arguing with yourself.

Hunter lets out a sigh behind you as you walk down the steps from the center of the room. You twist around and find him following after you.

“You know why I wasn’t,” he says, helmet resting under his arm.

You force out a laugh and shake your head. You purse your lips and look up at the ceiling, stepping up to meet him before he can reach the bottom floor. You crane your head back and peer up at him.

“According to what I’ve heard, it doesn’t sound like you managed to stay out of fighting the Empire after all.” You reach up with your free hand and slip your arm over his neck. He stiffens against you and you can see him gritting his teeth. As for yourself, it’s like there’s not enough oxygen in the room the closer you get to him. “So here we are now, Hunter. What was the point of any of it?”

You start to pull back, fingers tracing the line of his collar. Just when your skin leaves his, a hand catches you by the wrist. You jerk back, but his hold is too tight. Your stomach twists into knots upon knots.

His upper lip twitches and he lets out a huff of air as he stares down at you. And you’re frozen, waiting to hear what he has to say for himself, for you… You’ve wondered how this would go, seeing him after so long apart. But reality is disappointing. His next words aren’t the ones you want to hear.

“You don’t get to act like I’m the one that walked away, Y/N.” He bites the inside of his cheek and you would swear his grip grew even tighter. “You always knew where to find me. For all I knew, you could’ve been dead.”

“Hmm,” your gaze falls and you swallow, before finally pulling your hand out of his hold. You nod quickly. “You’re right, I did walk away.” You turn so your body is perpendicular to his, watching as he moves off that last step and puts that damn helmet back on, hiding his face, his thoughts, his eyes. And the second he’s out of sight, you nearly beg him to take it off again, to let you see him, feel him – you’d kiss him, tell him that you’ve missed him – if only he would give you another chance. You gulp down a quick breath. “Hunter, I have so much—”

PZING!

Your words are cut short by the sound of blaster fire and the heat of an energy bolt shooting just past the left side of your head. The two of you jump apart. You duck low and make for a wall of servers on the right as he slides to the left. He shoots back before falling behind cover. You make sure you’re not going to get hit, before you even think about seeing who is shooting at you. Leaning to the side, you peer around the corner. The doorway is a fog of smoke and blaster fire.

And there’s the reinforcements, you think bitterly, cursing yourself for wasting so much time talking when you should have been running.

“Got a plan to get out of here?” you ask as you reach for your belt, thumbing the round orb hanging on the side. You can’t see Hunter’s face behind the newly painted helmet, but you can see the exasperation in his shoulders. You pull the popper out, and flip back the activation cover.

One chance. Better hope this works.

On the other side of the walkway, Hunter tilts his head, peeks around the corner and looses a stun shot at the lone trooper trying to cross the threshold. The man hits the floor and Hunter turns back to you as a series of shots-to-kill fire down on his position. “I thought you could ‘get yourself out of here’,” he yells across the walkway.

You bite back a remark that being a smartass isn’t cute on him. “If you’re here, you might as well be a little useful,” you shout back as you roll the charge detonator to the door.

You duck back behind cover, before the tell-tale sound of electricity, men shouting out in surprise, and the smell of burnt hair fills the room. Then everything is quiet again. You look across the walkway as you and Hunter move for the door. A pile of TK-troopers is laid just over the threshold. You step over them as best you can, before turning to wait for Hunter to join you in the hallway.

“We can argue over my ability to estimate odds and whatever else we need to hash out later,” you tell him, your arms crossing over your chest as he comes to a stop next to you, “preferably when people aren’t trying to kill us. For now, let’s lock it down and focus on getting out of here.” You start down the hall without him.

Footsteps echo behind you and you don’t turn to see if he’s following. He lets you know he’s there with something akin to a growl, that almost stops you in your tracks. It’s that tone, the one where all his focus is on you and you’re not sure if this is going to end badly or not.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Read Part 3 here

A/N:

I've decided this is gonna be a, "Hunter wanted a normal life, Y/N wants to fight the Empire," story. Any questions?

Will have flashbacks of happier days, and of course the big break up, soon!

#the bad batch hunter #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #the clone wars fanfiction #the bad batch discussion #the bad batch headcanons #the bad batch fic #hunter x reader #tbb!hunter x reader

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