Guarded (#2 Post-Order 66 Series)

Guarded - Part 21

While superstition wasn't something common among clones, Wrecker secretly harbored some routines that he considered "lucky," and lately, he felt like they'd been paying off. In his mind, he knew there was nothing mystical about the tiny traditions and habits he performed before and after a battle, that they didn't impact the outcome. At the same time, he didn't see the harm in making sure Lula was tucked into one of his pouches during firefights or clipping the tiny charm Omega had made him from spare parts around the Marauder to his belt every morning. He knew he certainly hadn't been shot since she'd given him the charm, and while Tech would nag him about correlation or causation or something along those lines, Wrecker didn't think even he could argue with the results.

Wrecker had been very careful to go through his routines every morning as the smaller attacks had raged on, and day after day, it seemed as though the militias were gaining more ground. He knew most of that could be attributed to Echo's expertise and careful planning, but clipping the charm to his belt every day made him feel like he was contributing in his own way. He'd been frustrated with the amount that he'd been sidelined with Hunter while everyone else seemed to be getting in on all of the action. Even the upcoming attack on Spinnaker wouldn't be one he'd get to be a part of, and he'd grumbled about that for a few days before Hunter snapped at him to stop sulking about.

To distract himself, he'd taken up playing dust ball with the village children. At first, they'd been wary of him because of his size, but after he'd kicked their ball back over to them when it rolled towards him a few times, one of the younger girls had boldly marched up to him and demanded he be on her team. He hadn't been able to refuse, and now, there had to be a coin toss every game to determine which team Wrecker would play on.

It was a made-up game, and the rules seemed to change every other time they played, but Wrecker had always been a good sport, even when the entire opposing team had leapt onto him in an attempt to take him down. He'd still managed to score with ten children of various ages clinging to him while he roared with laughter. He'd finally collapsed to the ground when his own team decided to get in on the fun, tickling the back of his knees until he fell forward and then all jumping on him at once. He was at the bottom of a dogpile when a pair of boots stopped a few centimeters in front of his face.

"Having fun?" Hunter asked, grinning down at him.

"Never better," Wrecker cackled just as a tiny foot stepped on his face. "Ow! Watch it!" The child didn't even seem to notice as he scrambled onto Wrecker's shoulder. "Need something, Sarge?" he asked.

"As much as I hate to break up the game, Iden and the rest are getting ready to hit the road. We're about to do the final briefing, and I'd like you to listen in if you can peel yourself away."

Wrecker grunted. "Be right there." Giving a playful roar, he pushed himself up to a plank position, and all the children still sitting on his back squealed as their quarry rocked them back and forth, a few tumbling off. Only a couple of the more brash ones held on tightly as he stood up laughing and peeling them off of him. "I'm sorry, kids. I've got to go."

"But you said one more game!"

"Pleeeeeease!"

"Come on!"

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck, casting a nervous glance at Hunter, who just crossed his arms and shrugged.

"Tomorrow. I can come back first thing tomorrow," he offered.

The crowd groaned loudly, but the protests softened.

"Promise?"

"I promise," Wrecker said, crossing his chest in some sort of binding agreement. That appeared to satisfy the children, and they scampered off to their dwellings, tossing farewells over their shoulders as they dispersed.