The Bad Batch: Oneshots

Anything for You P2

Tech hadn't realized he dozed off. He was rudely reminded that he wasn't back on Pabu with his brothers and Phee by the faint sound of marching growing louder by the second. Guards dressed in white armor approached his cell, deactivating the dim red barrier. Tech rose to his feet almost immediately with a stern expression. Standing between the troopers was a slacked Omega, looking far worse for wear. The anger inside him burned hotter than the lakes of lava on Mustafar. Her escorts pushed the young clone inside the small brig, leaving in haste.

"Omega?" Tech rushed forward, catching the girl before her legs gave out.

"I'm...okay," Omega muttered, attempting to scramble out of his grasp.

What she had endured was horrifying—the constant questions, the large floating droid packed with sharp needles, the threats—but she wouldn't let her pain fall upon her brother. After all, she was a bad batcher.

Tech only tightened his grip, helping Omega up on the cold slab of concrete meant to represent a cot. He quickly took note of the multiple punctures on her arms placed over larger and more noticeable veins, the vague purple outline of fingers around her neck, and few minor bruising to the face, more specifically her eye. Tech was careful to where he set his hands, not wanting to accidentally hurt her further. Omega curled into herself once seated, refusing any sort of eye contact. Tech silently sat next to her.

Omega stared at the blank wall, head on her knees as she tried to suppress her tears.

"Why is this happening?" she spoke after a few long minutes. "What do they want from me?"

Tech looked down at his little sister, hearting throbbing in his chest. For once, he couldn't provide her with a sufficient answer because he didn't know. He couldn't tell her why the Empire wanted her—was hurting her for their own benefit—all he knew was he would give up everything to take her place, to take her pain away. Let it fall unto him, just leave her alone.

"I...am uncertain, Omega," he slowly admitted. "However, I promise, I won't let them hurt you again."

Omega didn't bother looking up. "You can't promise that," she whispered.

Deep down, Tech knew she was correct. He didn't want to accept it, but if those troopers were to come back, who's to say it wouldn't end the same way it did before. He should know better than to make empty promises, yet the surge of overwhelming protectivness told him otherwise. He wouldn't let them take her.

"Omega." He scooted off the bench, kneeling down, capturing her absentminded stare. "They won't lay another hand on you again. You have my word."

Omega's glassy eyes met his. She gave him a sad smile, nodding her head in the slightest.

"They talked about Crosshair," she said shortly after, catching Tech off guard. Crosshair had chosen not to share much about his time with the Empire. He assumed the guilt was partially to blame. What he hadn't considered until recently was just how inhumanly the Empire acted outwardly with no shame. He wondered what Crosshair had to live through as a traitor to the Empire living within the Empire.

"They asked me if all defective clones were as stubborn as him," Omega continued, freezing for a brief second. "I didn't tell them anything, by the way."

Tech silently sighed. If only she had. Maybe they wouldn't have harmed her further if she did.

"What did they ask you?" Tech curiously questioned. Perhaps the next time they came for her, he would be able to negotiate.

Omega shuddered as a chill ran down her spine. Thinking about her encounter with Dr.Hemlock made her uncomfortable. The man truly scared her. His face held no emotions of sympathy as he tortured her, yet his voice remained calm and almost charming.